CHAPTER V.
Annette wrote:
"What happiness it is to write to you! This is the first time that I address you as your real and true daughter. Do you remember how ill you took it when I once called you Patriarch? You were right, because bandying sharp speeches was a great fault of mine. Too much of the intellectual was my misfortune and that of all of us. Now I am nothing but a quiet ant, crawling up a tree and bearing my tiny mite; to be one ant amongst a thousand is now my only ambition. I do not wish to be anything for myself. I must give you an extract from Richard's letter. What is dearest and most beautiful in it, I cannot, of course, repeat to you. He writes:
"'Hitherto, our happiness consisted in the general belief that every one was a nobody, unless he was something quite apart, because the people as a whole were held in but little esteem. Germany was like the educated Jew, who is always intent on hearing from others, "How do they regard me?" "What do they think of me?" You yourself,'--but here he begins praising me--enough of that.
"'It gave me great pleasure to have Johanna with us in the hospital for a few days, which enabled us, by working together, to gain a better appreciation of each other. She has gathered experience and insight from other sources than myself, and she insists that nature is better than what we call principle. We can afford to let the latter pass, here and there. She acknowledges that unbelievers, as she calls us, are capable of virtuous actions. This war has taught all of us not to ask for dogmas, but for deeds.
"'I am scarcely able to-day, to write a letter in my own name. It was general mail-day, and I sat for hours at the bedside of the sick, writing word for word as they dictated. I am glad to have learnt enough French to be able to write for the officer whom you may remember. How manifold are the relations of life with which I have become familiarized! There is much wonderful beauty hidden in the world, and every people and every station in life has its share.
"'I had to add postscripts to two letters announcing the death of those in whose name they were written. One was the son of honored parents, and the other was himself the head of a family, and leaves four children.
"'Midnight.--I could not write further. Now all is hushed; and I do not wish to sleep before fulfilling my duty towards you. I find it hateful, when in full health, to say, "I cannot," and, therefore, continue writing. I feel as if mother were sitting beside me and saying, "Tell my husband everything. The best remedy against fear is to know the whole truth." But I must inform you about Martella.
"'The next day.--Last night, while I was writing the last sentence, Wolfgang came. He informed me that he had told you all. I may then speak of ourselves again.'
"Richard has written me: 'Remember that you once told me you would go through the wide world with me. That may now come to pass. Through varied labors which have given entire satisfaction, I have received an offer of employment in the foreign service, and it may happen that we shall have to begin our married life in the new world. I leave my quiet study, or rather I shall not return to it. I may be able to influence the living present, and you, my good and lovely wife, shall win admiration and respect in the highest circles. I am proud to place you in life's highest stations, and for this reason I joyfully surrender my solitary, peaceful studies and long-cherished plans of scientific investigation.'
"How I replied to Richard you will see by these lines, which I copy for you without conventional modesty; they are from a second letter, in answer to mine:
"'A thousand times, I kiss your hands and press you to my heart. You are my good genius. Pardon every unpleasant thought which, in the erring past, I may have harbored against you. Even then, despite myself, my mother knew you better than I did; her blessing rests upon your head. You have liberated me and brought me back to myself; I receive all willingly from your hands.
"'How clever and how pointed are your accounts of the nothings of diplomatic life which you noticed in Paris at the house of your sister-in-law, the wife of our ambassador.
"'Pardon me that I was just a little jealous of the title of nobility, and that I thought you might regret having to change it for a plain civilian name. I thank you for scolding me so merrily about it; but I reproach myself very seriously that I could entertain such a thought for a single instant.
"'How much you are in the right! I dare not abandon my innermost convictions. Your Christian admonition has gone right to my heart: yes, I would have been doing violence to my soul.
"'Now all is bright and free within and around me. It is settled. I shall keep on the straight line marked out for me; I am born and bred a man of letters. You see clearly what I could not confess to you or myself. For your sake the glitter of life allured, and attracted me. I fondly imagined your queenly form moving among those the world call noblest; but you, my lovely wife, are greater, purer, and freer than I am. You do not wish to shine; you will live for me, and I am to live for my ideal. It is decided; I am fortified against all temptation. I shall remain true to my calling, to you, and to myself.'
"I have told you all. I hope the time is not far off when this horrible war, this killing and dying, will be but as a shadowy dream in our memories. There must be peace at last, and peace will bring home to you
"Your happy daughter,
"Annette."