41. CYCLE.
I sat up all last night till towards morning,—for I cannot suffer any strange déchiffreur in the case,—in order to cipher out the Jubilee to the very last word, so enchained was I by its charms; I hope, however, as the mere thin leaf-skeleton from Hafenreffer's hand has already done so much, that now, when I run through its veins with sap-colors and glossy green, the leaf will do absolute miracles.
With the Count it had been troubled weather since last evening. For the patient, modest form which he had seen shone, like the purpose of a great deed, before all the images of his soul; and in his dreams, and before he sank to slumber, her gentle voice became the Philomela of a spring-night. Withal, he heard them continually talking about her, especially the Doctor, who every morning announced further progress of the ocular cure, and at last placed Liana's setting out for Lilar nearer and nearer. To hear of a loved one, however, even the most indifferent thing, is far mightier than to think of her. He heard further, that her brother, since the murder of her eyes, had withdrawn entirely from the city, in which he would not again appear except on a so-called festive-steed at the Prince's funeral;—and around this Eden, or rather around its creatress, so high a garden-wall had been run, and he went round the wall and found no gate.
I know nothing more odious than this; but in what residence-city is it otherwise? If I ever wrote a Romance (of which there is no probability), one thing I affirm openly, there is nothing which I would so sedulously shun as a residence-city, and a heroine in it saintly enough for a canoness. For the conjunction of the upper planets is more easily brought about than that of the upper class of lovers. Does he wish to speak alone with her at Court or at tea or in her family, there stands the Court, the tea-party, the family close by;—will he meet her in the park, she rides, like the Chinese couriers, double, because we give a consciousness to maidens, as nature gives all important organs, duplicate, just as we give good wine double bottom;—will he meet her at least accidentally in the street, then there stalks along behind her (if the street lies in Dresden), a sour servant as her plague-vinegar, soul-keeper, curator sexus, chevalier d'honneur, genius of Socrates, contradictor, and Pestilentiary. In the country, on the other hand, the parson's daughter takes a run (that is all), because the evening is so heavenly, about the fields of the parsonage, and the candidate needs do nothing more than put on his boots. Really, among people of rank, the mantle of (erotic) love seems in the beginning to be a Dr. Faust's mantle, which swears to soar over everything, whereas it merely covers over everything; only, at last, there stands a Schreckhorn, a Mount Pilate, and a Jungfrau, before one's nose.
Blessed hero! On Friday came the Lector, and reported, that on Monday the illustrious deceased—namely, his empty coffin—is to be buried, and Roquairol rides the festive-steed,—and Liana is almost well, for she goes with the Minister's lady to-morrow to Lilar, in all probability to escape some sad black-bordered notes of condolence,—and, on the following ascension-day comes the consecration and masquerade....
Blessed hero! I repeat. For hitherto what hast thou possessed of the blooming vale of Tempe, except the barren heights whereon thou stood'st looking down into the enchantment?