CHAPTER II.
AN INALIENABLE POSSESSION.
The next morning came the tidings that the groom whom Sonnenkamp had dismissed shortly before his journey, suspecting him of being a spy of Pranken's, had been arrested in the capital in the very act of offering for sale a large silver goblet. Roland brought the news to Eric, and this was only one of the many interruptions liable at any moment to break in upon the hours of study and thought, in consequence of this robbery. Of what use were lessons when the mind was thus excited? What lasting impression could be made? At one time Eric thought of going hunting more frequently with Roland, in order to amuse him and let him gain fresh elasticity and powers of observation by the pursuit of new objects. But he finally decided on the opposite course, that of helping his pupil not by amusement, but by closer application to his studies. Great was his satisfaction, therefore, at having Roland say to him,—
"Let us forget all else and quietly go on with our work."
The boy's love of study had received an impulse which made every interruption distasteful to him, and led him to look for his best pleasures in his books.
Roland soon became conscious of a fresh energy in Eric, without being able to conjecture its cause; it was the exaltation that follows a danger escaped, escaped by one's own effort. Whenever Eric thought of the days at Wolfsgarten, and his trifling with those feelings which should be the finest of the human heart, he seemed to himself a thief. He had recklessly staked the entire capital which he had so laboriously won; he had allowed himself, under a pretended interchange of noble thoughts, to toy with Bella: to flirt, as he called it in plain language, with Clodwig's wife. To his mind, he had violated a sanctuary; how small, how infinitely small in comparison, seemed the offence of these poor people! He felt deeply humbled in his own eyes. How gladly would he have made a pilgrimage with Roland to some temple where he could purify himself, and where Roland could gain new strength! Whither should he turn?
It is easier for one wearied in the exciting race of life, and burdened in conscience, to enter into the invisible temple built with hands than into the visible temple of science; yet Eric succeeded in doing this. What he would with difficulty have accomplished for himself, perhaps would have failed to accomplish, he did from duty to another. He lost himself in the love of knowledge, and everything became clearer and more intelligible. As an experienced swimmer delights in the onward rush of the waves, dives below the surface to rise again to the light, and with vigorous arms divides the waters; so Eric plunged into science, and felt his heart swell with joy when the mighty waves roared towards him. Gone were all petty fears and anxieties, all self-contest.
In Roland, too, deep currents were stirred. He often went about as in a dream. The ground beneath him, which he now knew to be in constant motion, swam before his eyes: the heavens were no longer there; the old world was dissolved and a new one revealed; while mingling with all this new life within him was the thought that all private property would be abolished, and poverty and riches divided equally among men. Eric observed this excitement in the mind of his pupil. Roland said to him one day timidly,—
"Tell me, Eric, if there will ever come to be no more private property in the world, and consequently no more thieves."
Eric was startled to see how this strange idea had taken hold of the boy. He explained that he had only brought that up as an illustration; the thing itself was an impossibility; he had only meant to show what a radical change might be worked in the minds and lives of men.
Fresh evidences of this unaccountable tendency of the boy's thoughts were constantly appearing. One day he asked Eric to go with him to the huntsman's, to see how his wife and children were faring. He said he had met the man's son, a cooper in the service of the Wine-count, a little while ago, and had offered to shake hands with him, telling him the son was not to blame for what the father had done, even if he had done anything wrong, which he certainly had not; but that the cooper had stared at him, and instead of taking his offered hand, had drawn his hammer from his leather apron, swung it back and forth for a while, and finally walked off.
When Eric and Roland approached the huntsman's house, the birds in the cages were singing, busiest among them the blackbird, with his incessant chirp of thanksgiving, and the dogs were bounding merrily. The wife looked ill and slatternly, and was full of complaints. She told how she had wanted to let all the birds out after her husband was taken to prison, but her son, the cooper, insisted on everything being left as it was till his father came back, which was sure to be very soon; Sevenpiper had in the mean while undertaken to do part of her husband's work, and the cooper attended to the night duties, though he had to work so hard through the day. Everything should be done properly, that the place might be kept open for her husband.
Eric offered her a sum of money, which she refused, saying that her son, the cooper, had forbidden her to accept anything from Sonnenkamp's family.
"If this man is innocent, as I believe he is," said Roland, when they were in the villa again, "what can make up to him for all the anxiety and distress he has had to suffer?"
Eric had no satisfactory answer to give; he could only say that this was another proof of the fact that the best things in life could not be supplied by money.