CHAPTER VII.
A NEW DOOR IN THE WALL.
The Professor's widow accompanied the Doctor for several days in his professional rounds. She obtained in this way, by direct observation, an insight into the country life.
She laid before Sonnenkamp a plan matured by herself and Fräulein Milch, which he very readily assented to, especially that part relating to the furnishing of sewing machines. Besides being an American "institution," this would create a good deal of talk. He made a trip to the capital himself, and bought the machines.
He took great pleasure in hearing the widow speak of the satisfaction she derived from having the ability to do so much good, formerly through the Princess, and now through Herr Sonnenkamp.
"How does it happen," he inquired of her, "that the poor, or the comparatively poor, are united together so much more closely than the rich?"
"I have never reflected upon the matter," she replied with an embarrassed smile, "but if I should now express an opinion upon it, I should say, that the rich man clings to his property, and is obliged to think of himself; he can't do otherwise. He is not permitted to survey the lot of others; his soul, his eye, if I may use the expression, does not have, the beseeching glance of him who sits forlorn by the wayside. But the poor man is hoping, waiting; he has nothing but a bundle in his hands, or probably nothing but his empty hands; he is independent of others, and dependent on them too."
Sonnenkamp was very eloquent in praise of this considerate, indulgent view, as he termed it; and the Professorin was delighted with the polite manner and the delicacy of this man, apparently so bad and selfish.
"Perhaps," she continued, blushing deeply, "perhaps we might take an illustration from the animal world."
"In what way?"
She was silent, and only replied after Sonnenkamp had repeated the question:—
"I will give you my thought, crude as it is. I was thinking of the beasts of prey who live singly; and wolves only herd together when there is some common booty to be got, the rest of the time, each living by himself. The herbivorous animals, on the contrary, live together in herds, and afford a common protection."
She interrupted herself smiling, and then continued:—
"My wisdom is of yesterday, and it is not worth very much. The field-guard, Claus, told me that, in autumn, the birds which feed upon grain assemble in flocks, but those which live upon insects do not."
Sonnenkamp was very amiable. The Professorin added in continuation:—
"But yet the granivorous birds are no more virtuous than the insectivorous; each kind lives in accordance with its own law."
Sonnenkamp became more and more charmed with the Professorin; she spread his table with viands which could not be imported from abroad, and which the garden did not supply.
The journals, day after day, now published Herr Sonnenkamp's praiseworthy endeavors to ameliorate the condition of the people. The Cabinetsräthin came, and congratulated him upon the excellent result, adding that, according to a report from her husband, this noble deed of Herr Sonnenkamp had been noticed in the highest quarter.
Sonnenkamp was now exceedingly zealous. He was anxious that there should be no intermission in the public notices, and that something should be said about him every day. Pranken, however, who had returned from his farming escapade, showed that it would be better to hold up a little, and then to come down upon the public with a fresh sensation. He had evidently heard of the good impression which the Professorin had made at the convent, and of the earnest exhortation to Manna; and when Sonnenkamp unfolded to him his plan of having the Professorin reside there permanently, he immediately assented to it.
A path was laid out from the villa to the vine-covered house, through the beautiful meadows and along the river-bank. Sonnenkamp invited the Professorin, on a certain day, to accompany him into the garden, and all the family must go with them.
A new gateway had been made in the wall which surrounded the park. Sonnenkamp said that the Professorin should be the first one to pass through it. He gave her the key, and she opened the gate. She went through it and along the pathway, followed by the whole family, and Pranken among them.
They proceeded to the vine-covered cottage, and the Professorin was amazed to find here all her household furniture, and the library of her husband arranged in good order.
Aunt Claudine was here too; for Sonnenkamp had contrived that she should be released from Clodwig.
Sonnenkamp introduced, with a sort of pride, his valet Joseph, who had made all these arrangements, as a native son of the university.
The Professorin expressed her thanks to Joseph, and shook hands with him.
Pretty soon the Major came; and when the Professorin inquired after Fräulein Milch, he stammeringly made an apology in her behalf. It was plainly wrong in his view, that Fräulein Milch should so persistently refuse to go into society.
The Professorin had not recovered from her amazement and satisfaction when Clodwig and Bella arrived. Provision had been made for a cheerful repast in the garden, and Roland gave expression to the general feeling, when he said:—
"Now I have a grandmother and an aunt, safe in their nest."
In the evening, Eric received a large package of books and a letter from Professor Einsiedel, and also a large sheet of memoranda. He commended Eric's intention of writing a treatise upon the idea and nature of slavery, as it would prove a very fertile theme.
Eric put away the books, for he regarded it as a fortunate thing that Roland's thoughts were occupied neither upon slavery nor free labor, nor any kindred topic, but with something entirely different.
The son of the Cabinetsräthin, the cadet, was now at the newly acquired country-seat, on furlough, and he exhorted Roland to be diligent, so as to be able before long to enter the military school.
Roland was now wholly bent upon entering the highest class, at the earliest possible moment. He spoke of it daily to his father and Pranken. The father one day took him aside and said:—
"My child, it is well, and I am glad that you are so diligent in getting fitted, but you will not enter—take notice, I show my respect for you by this communication; I look upon you as a grown-up and mature man."
He stopped, and Roland asked,—
"When is it that I am to enter?"
"Come nearer, and I will whisper it to you; you are to enter when you are a noble."
"I a noble? and you too?"
"Yes, all of us; and for your sake I must become ennobled, as you will see by and by. Do you feel glad at being made a noble?"
"Do you know, father, when I first began to respect nobility?"
Sonnenkamp looked at him inquiringly, and Roland continued:—
"At the railroad station, where I saw a crazy, drunken man. Everybody showed respect for him, because he was a nobleman, a baron. It is a great thing to be a nobleman."
Roland now gave an account of the meeting on the morning after his flight, and Sonnenkamp was surprised at the astonishing effect produced upon him, and at the lasting impression everything made. He now said:—
"Give me your hand, as a pledge that you will say nothing about this to your master, Eric, until I shall tell him myself. On the word of an officer."
After some delay and deliberation, Roland gave his hand.
His father now proceeded to explain to him how disagreeable it would be to enter the military school under a citizen's name, and while there to be ennobled.
Roland inquired why he was not to say anything about it to Eric.
His father refused to tell him why, demanding unconditional obedience.
And so Roland had now a two-fold secret to keep, one from his father, and the other from Eric. The youth's soul was distressed, and it found an odd expression in the question he once put to Eric:—
"Do the negroes in their native land have nobles too?"
"There are no nobles in their own right," replied Eric; "individual men belong to the nobility only when, and only so long, as others regard them as such."
Eric had thought that Roland's zeal for the military school had excluded all his former notions and speculations; but he now saw that they were still active, and had become connected with odd associations, which he could not explain to himself satisfactorily. But he took heed to make no further inquiry.
During his furlough, the son of the Cabinetsräthin was very constant in attendance upon the lessons given to Roland, and Sonnenkamp, having her sanction, proposed that the young cadet should leave the school for a time, and be instructed in company with Roland.
Roland was highly pleased with this plan, but Eric objected; and when Sonnenkamp stated to him that he had formerly desired that Roland should have a comrade who should receive instruction with him, Eric found great difficulty in explaining to him that it was now inexpedient; that the course of instruction he had undertaken with Roland was adapted exclusively to him, and that now any comradeship, and any reference to another's condition and progress, would be only a disturbing element.
Eric, by this means, alienated not only Herr Sonnenkamp and the Cabinetsräthin, but also for a time his pupil himself, who was out of humor and refractory, after the cadet had returned to the capital.