CHAPTER II.
A PEBBLE ANSWERS FOR A JEWEL.
Knopf, meanwhile, talked much with Roland, and congratulated him in having a man like Eric for a teacher. Roland was as inattentive as ever, asking at last only this question,—
"What is the maiden's name?"
"Lilian. And this is the miraculous part of it! You gave her in the wood a Mayflower, and the Mayflower is also called Lily of the Valley."
"What's her father?"
"A famous lawyer, a leading opponent of slavery."
Knopf would rather have given himself a slap on the mouth, than to have uttered what he did. But it couldn't be unsaid. He turned suddenly and looked sharply at Roland, and, to his satisfaction, he became convinced that no effect had been produced upon the youth.
During the whole distance they seemed to be hearing the music of the waltz, and now, as they approached the farm, that ceased, for there struck upon their ears the rushing and roaring of a mill-stream and the clattering of a mill. The stream flowed underneath a large part of the house, and turned the mill constructed there.
"You will not sleep well to-night," said Knopf to Roland.
"Why not?"
"Because you must first get used to the noise of the mill; if one is accustomed to it, he sleeps the more soundly for it. It was so with my little pupil."
Not far from the farm buildings, the different individuals, meeting again, were standing near the palings of an inclosure, where Roland was delighted with the handsome colts that were frisking about within, and which all came up to the fence when they sniffed Herr Weidmann's proximity.
He informed them that this was his "little children's school;" he had established a "coltgarten" for colts, to which all the breeders of horses in the district sent the foals. There was good pasture-land, where they could perform their gymnastic exercises, be well-sheltered and safely cared for. This helped the whole surrounding country in the rearing of horses.
Roland was highly pleased with this information, and Eric took fresh satisfaction in the thought of having brought him here. A man like Weidmann would exert an influence over Roland such as no other person could.
"Have you studied chemistry?" Weidmann asked, turning to Roland.
He said no.
Weidmann looked down, then up, and asked,—
"Have you determined yet what you mean to do?"
For the first time, Roland hesitated to give a direct answer.
Weidmann urged the matter no further. Eric could not conceive what made Roland so timid; but he saw clearly what a great influence this man had acquired over his pupil. Perhaps also what Roland had heard caused him to waver, and he was reluctant to speak, before a man of such active usefulness, of a vocation in which outward show and glory were the ends in view.
But there was another reason. The child with golden hair let go her father's hand, went up to Knopf and whispered to him, that now he must be convinced all was true she had told him; that he had never believed she had met any one in the wood, but now the witness was before his eyes.
Roland whispered to Knopf, that Eric had never been disposed to believe that such a thing had really happened to him.
Knopf, who saw himself placed in the midst of wonder-land, moved his hand repeatedly over his breast, while his eyes gleamed behind his spectacles. Yes, in the very midst of chemistry, scientific feeding, locomotive whistles, and dividend calculations—in the midst of all this there was still romance left in the world. True, this happens only to children born on Sunday, and Lilian was a Sunday-child.
He only wished that he could do something towards deepening and making lasting this gleaming romance of their wonderful meeting.
But that's just it! One can't do anything in this sphere of the romantic, it always comes of its own accord, unexpected and surprising; it won't be regulated and reasonably built up. All one can do is, to keep still and hold his breath, and make no sound; otherwise the charm is broken. He had to do something to further it, and he did the very best thing; he went off and left the children by themselves.
They looked at each other, but neither spoke. A handsome red heifer, with a bell on her neck and a garland over her horns, was led into the farm-yard. The maiden went up to her, and stroking her, said,—
"Ah, good evening, Brindy! Do you feel proud because you've taken the prize? Shall you tell your neighbors of it? Will you enjoy yourself now at home, or don't you know anything about your honors?"
The heifer was led to the barn, and the child, turning to Roland, cried,—
"Wouldn't you like to know whether the heifer has any notion of what has happened to her?"
As Roland was still silent, the child continued, very seriously,—
"Don't you want to be a husbandman, and have my uncle teach you? Then you can have my room. It's beautiful there!"
The maiden found words sooner than Roland, who still did not open his lips.
She continued,—
"Why haven't you been to see us before?"
"I did not know where you lived, nor who you were."
"Ah! That was why!"
And now they talked of their first meeting, how Lilian was carried away by her uncle, and how Roland wandered on to find Eric. Then it was spring, and now it is autumn.
"Just think! In your lilies there were some pretty little flies, which went along with us in the carriage, and didn't stir."
"Have you kept the flowers?"
"No. I don't like withered flowers, Give me something—give me something, that doesn't wither."
"I have nothing," replied Roland. "But I will send you my photograph, taken as a page—no. That's not fit for you. Oh, if I only had my rings now! I should like to give a ring, but Herr Eric has taken them all off my fingers."
"I don't want any ring. Well, give me that—give me the pebble that's now under your foot."
Roland stooped down, and giving her the pebble, begged she would also give him one.
She did so, saying,—
"Yes, this is dearer to me. I'd rather have that than anything else. Now I shall take a part of Germany with me over the ocean. Oh, Herr Knopf is right; it is all one whether you have a pebble or a diamond, if you only hold it dear; and it's very stupid for people to wear pearls and think that it's something very fine, because they must be got away down deep in the sea. Herr Knopf is right; it doesn't make a thing beautiful or good to cost a great deal."
Roland was silent; his heart beat fast.
"You are the Roland then, of whom the good Herr Knopf is always talking? You can't think how much he loves you."
"Probably he loves you as much?"
"Yes, he loves me too, and he has promised to come to America to see us."
"I am from America, too."
"Ah, yes! Welcome, my dear countryman; come with me into the garden, and help me get a nosegay to take away with me to-morrow."
"But where are you going to-morrow?"
"Very early we start for home."
The children were confronted, as it were, by a riddle. These children of the New World met each other to welcome the arrival in the Old World, and now to bid each other farewell.
"We see one another only to say a welcome and a good-bye," said Roland.
"Come into the garden with me," replied Lilian.