On the Heights: A Novel. Auerbach Berthold
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for many years. Of course you know that he has broken with me, because I am at court; but, in the olden times, in our youthful, enthusiastic days-"
"Then you, too, were once enthusiastic!"
"I was; but not to so great a degree as your father. When I see you, it seems as if his ideal had become realized. In those days, when I was a young army surgeon, and he a still younger officer, we would indulge in fantasy pictures of the future, and what it might have in store for us. He never thought of a beloved one, or a wife, but would at one bound, as it were, clear all that lay between, and indulge himself with brain pictures of a child; a daughter, fresh, tender and lovely beyond comparison. And now, when I behold you, I look upon his ideal."
"And so my father's only ideal was a child?" asked Irma with pensive air, and looking earnestly into the doctor's eyes, "and yet for all that, he left his children to grow up among strangers, and all that I know of him I am obliged to learn from the lips of others. But I don't care to speak of myself at present, dear doctor. I have a presentiment of the queen's secret. I think I know what makes her so quiet and reserved."
"My dear child," said the doctor, "if you really have a presentiment, – and that, moreover, in regard to a secret of their majesties-take my advice: Don't impart it to any one, not even to the pillow on which you lay your head at night."
"But if your knowing would be of service to the queen? You ought to be her guide."
"We can only lead those who desire to be led."
"All I ask of you is to have an eye on certain signs. Did the queen say nothing when she was before the church a little while ago and heard the mass? Wasn't she startled by a certain tone? Didn't you observe a certain inclination-"
By a motion of his hand, the doctor signified that Irma had better stop, and added:
"My child, if you desire to live comfortably at court, you had better not try to solve riddles which those to whom they belong don't care to solve for you. But, above all, let no one know-"
"Discretion, discretion; the same old text," said Irma, roguishly, her beautifully curved lips quivering with emotion.
"You are of a creative temperament, and are therefore out of place at court," said the doctor. "You desire to assert your individuality, instead of giving way to prescribed forms; but it can't be done. Just observe Councilor Schnabelsdorf, who will be used up much sooner than he imagines. He is constantly offering or preparing something new-cooking, roasting, or stewing all sorts of interesting information for his masters-and his memory is an everlasting 'table, table, cover thyself.' Take my word for it, before a year goes round, they'll all be tired of him. He who wishes to remain a favorite must not thrust himself forward."
Irma assented to this opinion, but saw through his attempt to change the direction of the conversation, and at once returned to what she had intended to say.
"Pray tell me," said she roguishly, "when one takes a false step, and, at the same time, injures himself, is it not called a misstep?"
"Certainly."
"Well, then, let me tell you that the queen is in danger of making a misstep, which may be fraught with irreparable injury to her-"
"I'd prefer-" interrupted the doctor.
"Ah! you'd prefer. Whenever you say that, you've something to find fault with."
"You've guessed it. I'd prefer your leaving the queen to divulge her secrets at her own pleasure. I thought you were a friend of hers-"
"And so I am."
"Well, and since I am your morning preacher to-day, let me give you another warning. You are in danger of becoming one of those ladies who have no friends of their own sex."
"Is that really so dreadful?"
"Most assuredly. You must have a female friend, or there is some fault in your disposition. Isolation, such as yours, warps one's character, and, consciously or otherwise, results in vanity. If, from among all the ladies here, you can't make even one your friend, the fault must lie in yourself."
"But there's no harm in my having a male friend, a friend like yourself."
"I couldn't wish you a truer one."
Irma walked beside the doctor in silence.
When they again reached the lawn in front of the palace, Irma said:
"Do you know that this lawn is dressed up every Saturday with false hay?"
"Less wit and more clearness, if you please."
"Pshaw, how officinal!" said Irma, laughing. "Then allow me to tell you that the queen once said that she was very fond of the odor of new-mown hay; and, ever since then, the intendant of the gardens has had the lawn mowed at least once a week. But as stubborn nature won't furnish hay quickly enough, they bring some from one of the outlying meadows and spread it about during the night. And yet they persist in saying that, in our age, princes are not deceived."
"I can find nothing wrong or laughable in the matter. The intendant is one of those who regard themselves as the pleasure-purveying providence of their masters and-"
"'Pleasure-purveying providence!'-that's excellent. What a happy thought! I shall hold fast to that. How can you say you've no wit? Why, you're brimful of delicious sarcasm. Oh dear, 'pleasure-purveying providence'!" said Irma, laughing heartily; and while laughing, more lovely than ever.
The doctor found it no easy matter to lead the conversation back to the point at which it had been interrupted. Whenever he attempted a serious remark, she would look at him with a roguish expression and give way to laughter so hearty that he could not help joining in it. But when he at last said that he had heretofore given her credit for something more than mere occasional flashes of wit, and that he had, until now, supposed her capable of carrying on an argument, she quickly became the docile scholar, willing to be led by her master. And so skillfully did the doctor use his arguments that she soon reflected his thoughts as if they were her own.
A tall and handsome page, with an aquiline nose and raven hair, approached the countess.
"My lady," said he, "her majesty the queen awaits you in the music-room."
Irma excused herself to the doctor, whose eyes followed her with a thoughtful gaze. In a little while the rich and metallic notes of Countess Irma's voice were heard.
"Eberhard used to sing delightfully," said the doctor, directing his steps toward the palace. When he approached the music-room, and saw that the canon, who had read the mass that morning, was about to enter, he hesitated.
The morning was soft and balmy; nature seemed wrapped in bliss. Every plant, every flower, thrives best in its native soil. Man alone is constantly creating new torments for himself. Could it be possible that the mischievous countess was right, after all? But why should the queen wish to forsake the faith of her ancestors?
The doctor retired to an arbor and read his Horace.
Doctor Sixtus presented himself before the dinner hour, and, while the company were seating themselves at table, rode off in the direction of the mountains.
That evening-it was mild and starlight-the court drove to the capital; for the corner-stone of the new arsenal was to be laid on the following day, with great pomp and military display.
CHAPTER III
The bells were ringing merrily. Their sounds were re-echoed by the rugged mountains, and then floated out over the lake, the smooth, green, glassy surface of which mirrored the forest-clad shores, the rocky crags, and the skies above.
Crowds were issuing from the church, the only building at the upper end of the lake. The men, donning their green hats with the black cock plumes, took their pipes from their pockets and struck a light; the women busied themselves with their dress, adjusted the pointed, green hats, smoothed their aprons, and tied the broad streaming ends of their silk kerchiefs anew. Following after the old women, who are always the last to leave the church, there was a handsome young couple. The wife was tall and stout, the husband slender and hardy as a pine. His appearance showed the effects of the week's hard work. His pointed, green hat, on which there was no hunter's badge, was