In Paradise: A Novel. Vol. I.

by Paul Heyse

CHAPTER X.

On the morning following the soirée, the lieutenant sat in the second story of the same hotel, in the little salon which lay between Irene's bedroom and her uncle's. Although he was continually complaining about his wretched vassalage to friendship, he had, nevertheless, presented himself again in good season in order to receive the watchword for the day. Inasmuch as he had not the faintest regular occupation, this pretext for passing away the hours was, in reality, heartily welcome to him. More than this, Irene's strangely resigned and yet self-reliant character, her repellent manner and almost bluntness, joined as they were with all the charm of youth, attracted him more than he knew or cared to admit.

The Fräulein was still invisible when Schnetz arrived. He found the uncle seated at breakfast, and was forced to listen to his account of his experiences of the excursion, and of his evening at the club. The baron may possibly have been a good dozen years older than the lieutenant, whom he still continued to treat in his frank and jovial manner, just as he had formerly treated the young fellow who, in Africa, had felt flattered to be kindly taken under the wing of his more experienced countryman and initiated into the mysteries of lion-hunting and other noble pastimes. Sixteen years had passed since then. The baron's hair had grown thin, the little rakish mustache on his upper lip had turned gray, his nervous, thick-set figure had rounded out, and, seen from behind, looked almost venerable; while the long, lank figure of his younger comrade had grown even more spindle-shanked, his face more like parchment, and his movements clumsier than before. For all that the baron let his eyes rest with fatherly satisfaction upon the officer, whom he still called "Schnetz, my dear boy," and patted him encouragingly on the shoulder; all of which Schnetz, who would have grimly resented any such familiarity from any one else, received with great patience from him.

"Bonjour, mon vieux!" cried the baron, with both cheeks full, when Schnetz entered. "My little highness is still resting from the fatigues of a musical entertainment given by a Russian lady here in the hotel. Come, light a cigar. No?--don't be afraid! On neutral ground smoking is allowed. That is the only thing which I, the best guarded of guardians, ever succeeded in carrying through against my ward's wishes. Positively I have regretted a hundred times that I didn't marry, and bring a few lively boys into the world. If they had tyrannized over me, I should know well enough for what sins I had to suffer. Now don't wink for me to speak lower. She is accustomed to hear these sighs of agony from me. She knows that her slave lets his hands and feet be put in chains, but not his tongue. To be sure," he continued, concluding this lamentation--which he had pronounced with far too jolly an air for it to excite serious sympathy--"to be sure, my dear Schnetz, my yoke was never so bearable as it is here in your blessed Munich: before all else, because you have lent your shoulder to the wheel, and I have a substitute in you such as I have wished for in vain at my own house, when my severe little niece has led the old lion-hunter about by her apron-string like a meek lamb."

Then he related how he had made the most charming acquaintances at the club yesterday, and what a cordial tone he had found there.

"You South Germans are really a fine race of men!" he cried, excitedly. "Everybody is so open, so true-hearted, in his négligé, just as God made him. You don't have to feel about a long time until you get through all the padding, and reach something like a human core; but whatever there is in you appears on the surface, and, if it doesn't please, it can't be helped. For that reason, of course, one sometimes comes across a slight roughness, which, however, only does you honor."

Schnetz puckered his mouth to an ironical grimace.

"Allow me, chère papa, to remark that you over-estimate us," he said, dryly. "That which you take to be our honest, natural skin is only a flesh-colored material under which the real epidermis lies concealed as securely and as secretly as the nut under its shell. We do well to throw aside our cloaks, because, with us, we do not show ourselves as we are when we do so. Of course, between ourselves we know perfectly well how matters stand, and that we can't make an X into a Y. Believe me, were it not for the drop of Frankish blood that I got from my mother, I should not be so naïf as to blurt out our national secret to you. I would leave you to quietly find out for yourself whether, at the end of a year--yes, or even at the end of ten or twenty years--you would have advanced any further in the friendships made yesterday than you did in the first hour; whether you would have succeeded even in penetrating the padding and putting your hand upon a real human heart of flesh and blood. I--much pains as I have taken--never succeeded in doing this. It is true, I myself was so exceedingly ill-humored as to consider it my duty to speak the truth to those whom I consider my friends. But that is something one must guard against doing here as carefully as against stealing silver spoons. Why has a man a back, unless it is that his friends may abuse him behind it?"

"I know you, mon vieux," cried the baron. "When you haven't a pair of shears and some black paper at hand, you cut your caricatures out of the air with your sharp tongue. But I won't allow this jaundiced art of yours to put me out of humor with this beautiful city and its good people. I grumbled sadly when my little highness insisted upon traveling, and taking up her residence further south. Now, nothing could afford me greater pleasure than her whim to settle down here in Munich, of all places, and if she only would decide not to go away from here again at all--"

The entrance of Irene interrupted him. She looked paler than on the day before, and greeted the gentlemen with heavy eyes and a languid movement of her little head, which generally sat so spiritedly and so erect upon her shoulders.

"Dear uncle," she said, "you would do me a great favor if you would consent to take me away from here--into the country, no matter where, if only away from this house. I have passed a night such as I hope I may never pass again, and didn't get a wink of sleep until this morning. You came home too late, and sleep too soundly, to have been disturbed long by the concert and the noise below us. But I--though I got away from the countess's just as early as possible--the music and the noise of the conversation reached my ears through the open windows. It will be just the same every night, for this lady is eternal unrest personified; and her circle expands into the infinite, since she not only patronizes music but all the other arts as well. So, if you love me, uncle, and don't want me to have a brain fever, see that we leave this house! Don't you too think, Herr von Schnetz, that nothing is left for me but rapid flight?"

Schnetz looked at his friend, from whose jovial face all the sunshine had departed. But he took good care not to come to his aid.

"My dearest child," the baron now ventured to remonstrate in a conciliatory voice, "the idea of rushing off in this wild fashion, after telling our friends only yesterday that it would be much nicer to take up our headquarters here in the town, and to make excursions from here to all points of the compass--"

She did not let him finish his speech.

"Feel how hot my hand is!" she said, pressing two little fingers against his forehead; "that is fever; and you know how people have warned us against the Munich climate. Didn't aunt tell us yesterday that even she intended to fly to the nearest mountains very soon? And besides, I should never think of asking you to shut yourself up with me in a mountain hut. I know very well, uncle, that you can't get on without the city for any length of time. I don't wish to go any further than the lake where we were yesterday; from there you can be back in Munich again in an hour, if you find you cannot stand it any longer. Don't you think this will be the most sensible thing for all parties, Herr von Schnetz?"

"Ce que femme veut, Dieu le veut!" replied the lieutenant, bowing, with the most serious face in the world. It did not escape his keen eye that this young highness had been battling with some trouble of the heart during the night, and had not yet recovered her usual self-possession. While she was speaking, her eyes wandered about in an odd way, now toward the window, now toward the door, as if she trembled in fear of some surprise. She pleased him better, however, in this state of excitement than in her usual cool self-possession; he felt a curious sympathy for her beautiful youth, that had no friend and adviser to consult, except an old bachelor whose susceptibilities were none of the most delicate.

"In Heaven's name, then!" sighed the latter, casting a droll look upward, "I submit to higher guidance, and acknowledge with gratitude the consideration you have shown toward my poor person in your project. Schnetz will find his way out to us, I suppose--after all a horse can always be found or sent for; there will most likely be a pistol-gallery at hand; and, if all other sports should leave me in the lurch, I can still become an angler on the lake--that most insipid of all pastimes, which I have heretofore regarded with quiet horror from a distance. When shall we be off? Not before this evening, of course?"

"With the next train, uncle. We have only half an hour to spare. Fritz is already at work packing your things, for he had heard from Betty that my trunk was ready. All you will have to do will be to make your own toilet."

The baron broke into a shout of laughter.

"What do you say to that, Schnetz? Abd-el-Kader himself might learn a lesson from this rapidity in breaking camp. Child, child! And my new acquaintances of last night--the stag-party that was arranged for to-morrow--Count Werdenfels, whose collection of weapons I was to go and see--"

"You can send them your excuses by letter from Starnberg, dear uncle. And truly I would not hurry so if there were any other way of avoiding taking leave in person of our fellow-guest down stairs. But, if we go off at once, these two lines, which the waiter will give her as soon as we are gone, will be sufficient."

She produced a visiting-card, on which she had already written a word of farewell.

"The note already written, too! La letterina eccola qua!" cried the baron. "Child, your genius for command is so sublime that subordination under your flag becomes a pleasure, and blind submission a matter of honor. In five minutes I will be ready for the journey."

With comical gallantry he kissed the girl's hand, who had listened to all his jests in a preoccupied and serious way, gave his friend a look that seemed to say: "I yield to force!" and rushed out of the room.

Schnetz was left alone with the Fräulein. A feeling that was almost fatherly in its tenderness passed over him as he looked at the serious young face.

"Perhaps," he thought, "it needs but a first word, a light touch, and this young heart that is full to the brim will overflow and be relieved."

But, before he could even open his lips, she said suddenly:

"I do hope Starnberg is not such a great resort for artists as the other places in the Bavarian mountains, of which my cousins have told me."

He looked at her in amazement.

"You hope so, Fräulein? And what possible reason can you have for not wishing it to be such a place? Artists are, as a rule, among the most harmless of God's creatures, and can hardly be said to disfigure a fine region with their umbrellas and camp-stools."

"And yet, last evening, I made the acquaintance of one of these artists at the countess's below. The tone which he adopted--"

"Do you recollect his name?"

"No; but perhaps you know him--a young man in a violet velvet jacket."

Schnetz gave a loud laugh.

"Why do you laugh?"

"I beg a thousand pardons, Fräulein--it really is not a matter to be laughed at. This honest fellow--our secret poet--I know him down to the very folds in his historical velvet jacket. What, in the name of wonder, were the thorns that this Rosebud presented for you to scratch your delicate skin upon?"

"I must submit to let you think me a prudish fool, who takes offense at every light word, Herr von Schnetz," said she, with some asperity. "I do not care to repeat the conversation of your friend. If he is one of the most inoffensive of men, I would rather avoid a place where one is forced to meet people of his stamp at every step."

She turned away and stepped to the window.

"My dearest Fräulein," she now heard Schnetz's voice say behind her, "you are ill, seriously ill; I don't know whether in body; but certainly there is a wounded spot somewhere in your mental organization."

She turned round upon him quickly.

"I must confess, Herr von Schnetz," she said, with her proudest look, "I really do not understand--"

"A sick person is very often unconscious that anything is wrong with him," continued Schnetz, unmoved, pulling at his imperial. "But it is impossible that you could have seen this picture of the most innocent of all mortals in such distortion, unless your eye had been clouded by illness. My dear Fräulein--no, don't look at me so ungraciously; you cannot deceive me by so doing; and at the risk of incurring your direful wrath, I don't see why you shouldn't listen to an honest word from a fatherly friend. I do not know whether you have many other friends; but, as far as I know, there is no one here who takes a more cordial interest in you than my not particularly attractive self--no one in whom you could more safely confide. Dearest Fräulein, if you would only consent to open that proud little mouth and tell me whether I can help you; whether what you experienced last night--for it is impossible that it is friend Rosenbusch who has suddenly given you such a distaste for your stay in this city--"

"Thank you," she said, interrupting him suddenly; "I believe you mean kindly toward me. Here is my hand on it; and, if I ever need counsel or help, you shall be the first and only man to whom I will turn. But you are mistaken if you think I--I--"

She suddenly checked herself, her eyes filled with heavy drops, and her voice failed her; but she controlled herself, and smiled upon him so kindly that he could not help admiring the brave young heart.

"All the better," he said. "I am too well bred to doubt the word of a lady. And the assurance you give me is so precious--"

"Here is my hand on it! Here's to our true friendship, Herr von Schnetz, and-- Of course I don't need to ask you not to say anything to uncle; he undoubtedly means well with me, but he knows so little--less than you who saw me for the first time only a week ago."

She put her finger to her lips and looked listeningly toward the door, behind which the baron's footsteps could now be heard. Schnetz had only time, while cordially pressing the hand she offered him, to nod to her that the pact just concluded should remain her secret, when her uncle stepped in again in complete traveling costume, and began to urge on the preparations for departure as zealously as he had before protested against the flight.

Schnetz got into the carriage with them, in order to accompany the uncle and niece to the station. The curtains were drawn down on the first floor of the hotel. The countess was still sleeping. As far as she was concerned, Irene would have had no need to pull down her veil over her face before she got into the carriage. But from behind it her eyes wandered restlessly hither and thither, across the square and through the streets; for she feared that he from whom she was fleeing might have taken up his post somewhere in the vicinity, in order to keep watch upon her movements.

He was nowhere to be seen. She noticed, on the other hand, a beautiful blonde lady who happened to be crossing the square just at that moment, accompanied by a rather insignificant-looking female companion and a male escort, and who had to stand still in order to let the carriage pass. Schnetz did not recognize them until they had gone by, but then he waved his hat excitedly by way of greeting, and gazed after them for some time longer.

"Who was that you were bowing to?" asked Irene.

"Take a good look at that man, my dear Fräulein. He is only a sculptor, not yet as celebrated as he deserves to be, and by birth the son of a peasant. But I have never known a man of more genuine nobility, and he alone would make the bad society in which I delight to move the very best in the world. Of the two ladies one is a painter, a very good person and not a bad artist by any means, while the beautiful one on Jansen's left--"

"Jansen?"

"Do you know the name? Perhaps you have already seen some of his works?"

She stammered out a confused answer, and leaned far out of the carriage as if she wanted to take another look at the party. All her blood had mounted to her cheeks.

So that was he with whom Felix now passed his days, that friend of his youth whose presence and society made up for all lost happiness!

A secret jealousy, which she was ashamed to admit even to herself, arose within her. Luckily for her the carriage drew up a few minutes after before the entrance of the station; and in the confusion of getting out and taking leave of their faithful companion, she was able to recover herself so far as to throw back her veil once more and to exact from Schnetz, with the merriest mien in the world, a promise that he would come out to the lake and visit them very, very soon.

The whistle of the locomotive had long died away, and our friend stood in the middle of the square, like a post, with his eyes fixed on the ground.

"Tonnerre de Dieu!" he growled at length, as a clumsy peasant ran against him and roused him from his reverie. "It is curious how our feelings toward people change. Only yesterday these two were in my way, and I would have given a good deal to have been released from my woman-service. And now I feel wretchedly bored without the little highness, and as if I were of no use to anybody. If I were not an old fellow and past all child's-play, and had not such a good wife, I almost believe--Tonnerre de Dieu!"

And slowly, humming a French soldiers' song between his teeth, he wended his way home, which to-day, for the first time, appeared to him as sad and solitary as it really was.