Withered Leaves: A Novel. Vol. 1 (of 3)

by Rudolf von Gottschall

CHAPTER VII.

[THE ORDENSBURG.]

It was late at night when Blanden's carriage, with its steaming horses, stopped before the castle door of Kulmitten.

The picture of the Holy Virgin, with the Child Christ in her arms, gleamed high above the portal in the moonlight. The remains of an old Ordensburg had been built into the castle, giving it an historically venerable appearance. The emblem of the Knights of the German Order, the cross with an eagle, was to be seen on all parts, and even greeted the new comers from the portal. The old belfry, well-preserved with its underground dungeons, rose upon a hill close to the shores of a large lake, which, with the wide belt of woods that surrounded it, extended far away in the moon's silvery light.

It would be easy to have imagined oneself in the solitude of primeval forests, had not the old stronghold reminded one that this place was no virgin soil, but that here the iron course of history had already held its sway, and claimed the victims of bloody conflicts.

Doctor Kuhl, who would not be deprived of guiding the foaming team, sprang down from the box, as he exclaimed--

"This seems to be quite an interesting old nest; why, surely the conversion of heathenish Prussia is relinquished here! Else you must begin with me."

Servants and steward had assembled in the castle's portal. Blanden had hardly descended, before grey-headed Olkewicz, a Masure, whose cradle had stood by the Lake Marggrabowa, assumed an important mien, so as to deliver his report of the most recent events. But Blanden at once perceived his faithful steward's intention, and arrested it--

"Not now, Olkewicz! it will be time enough to-morrow! The castle still stands upon the same spot--and that is the principal thing. For the rest, go to sleep children! It is late at night; only Friederich shall stay up, and look after my guest and me."

Friederich lighted them through the vaulted hall; the pillars cast shadows upon the stone flags of the floor, and upon the old castle's strong walls. They ascended a stone staircase; the table was laid in the dining-hall of the Order. It was a magnificent room; a granite column in the middle supported the radiated arch. Faded glass paintings were still visible in the windows. Blanden opened them; his gaze wandered out over the wide lake.

"You must excuse me for a short time," said Kuhl. "I am a species of Aquarius, and must greet my native element; I am impelled like the late unhappy Melusine. I must away into the water!"

"Now, at midnight?" asked Blanden.

"Until I have had a dip in the lake, I cannot feel myself at home here. See how it lures me with those glistening lights which play upon its surface. There are probably no syrens in the lake; if there had been any, they would most likely have died long ere this of ennui. Can one not dive into it anywhere from a balcony or gallery?"

"That even at midnight would create great sensation."

"Well, then, I will go to the bushes on the banks."

Blanden sat at the windows of the dining-hall, lost in dreams; he pondered how the old castle would gain new life. He asked himself what impression the magnificent view over the wide lake and the tall woods, most of which formed part of his possessions, would make upon Eva, when she first sat here by his side?

Far away his friend splashed in the waves, and swam ever farther out into the lake; a considerable time elapsed before he appeared at the midnight repast. Then he was lighted to his room by the old servant, who was himself dismissed to rest by Blanden.

The master of the castle was in a condition of strange excitement; he could not sleep. He took the candle, and walked through all the apartments to plan their future distribution, and to find out where Eva would be most comfortable.

He first entered his library; it was a magnificent apartment, the shelves, containing books, reached up to the ceiling. The newest poets and authors of Germany, bearing well-known names, were not missing. Blanden esteemed it to be his duty to buy their works--a duty towards literature, which but few of his equals recognised.

In addition to these he also possessed all the newest foreign classics, numberless political, historical and philosophical works. A division that occupied one entire wall, was filled with works of travel of all descriptions; on one spot he perceived a conspicuous gap; several volumes were missing--who could have borrowed them?

A stuffed royal tiger, which he himself had killed on the coast of Coromandel, stood before the shelves; beside it several stuffed Asiatic birds, amongst them one of Paradise, whose splendid tail sparkled in the light of the lamp which Blanden held in his hand.

Then he imagined that a small piece of paper was placed in the rare bird's bill; it was no delusion, he seized the paper and read the following words, traced upon it in unfamiliar handwriting--

"The bird of Paradise, according to the legends of Eastern nations, has no feet; such a bird of Paradise is the happiness of love. It may not take a firm foothold upon earth, else its sparkling brilliancy, its Argus-eyed splendour, its Paradise will be lost to it."

Blanden was astonished. Who could have written these lines? How came they hither? Was it a warning which met him just when he was about to found a lasting happiness upon earth? Yet it was impossible--no one even knew of it as yet.

He examined the other birds, and even at last the royal tiger, whether they, perhaps, could belong to the race of speaking animals and were supplied with significant notes; but all these creatures preserved unoffending silence.

A lion's skin was extended as a rug before the library table, towards which Blanden stepped, and whereon he perceived three open volumes were lying; they were plainly those works of travel which were missing from the shelf, writings upon Italy. The opened chapters treated of Lago Maggiore; red roses lay between the pages.

Blanden almost started affrightedly at the spirit which, during his absence, had bewitched his castle. Who could know of that secret meeting on the Lago Maggiore?

The amber merchant, who pretended to have met him on the shores of that lake once, rose to his mind. Yet, the red roses and the very pregnant sentence could have no connection with that disagreeable companion.

Thoughtfully, Blanden examined the handwriting--it seemed to be that of some woman.

His study adjoined the library. A number of letters had been accumulated into a heap upon the writing-table. Blanden glanced hastily at the caligraphy of the addresses, most of which indicated letters containing business matters.

Beside them lay his album, its clasp stood open; he looked inside, and on the last page read the following verse in the same handwriting--

"Oh, bliss is but a fleeting dream,
While lasting longing ling'ring stays;
Oh, wise betimes 'tis to resign,
And yet our souls with sadness teem,
For by the side of bounteous days
Long years of want are left behind."

Here, too, all signature was missing; yet, must he not now complete it? Who but that mysterious beauty on the Lago Maggiore could have written these lines? But how in the world could she come to this most remote neighbourhood--and how inside this castle?

He should have liked best to have awoke the steward at once to obtain information; painful impatience, which he could not subdue, had taken possession of him. He went through the suite of freshly-furnished rooms. The masons and upholsterers had just completed their task; the newly-built wing of the castle was simply and comfortably arranged; while not a sign of that haunting spectre allowed itself to be seen.

He visited the guest chambers; they were all in the most perfect order. Only once Blanden started, as close by, in the night's silence, he heard a peculiar noise. In his excitement he had quite forgotten his guest; it was Doctor Kuhl, who, snoring loudly, slept the sleep of the righteous.

From the dining-hall, Blanden went to the chapel, which adjoined it. The former belonged to the Ordensburg, and was still well preserved. A portion of the glass paintings in the windows were dedicated to the Holy Virgin, a portion to the deeds of the Knights of the Order. One picture portrayed the latter's battle with the Poles; the Virgin hovered above it amid light clouds.

Up several steps arose a small altar; behind it a picture, which represented the elevation of Christ upon the cross. Upon the altar lay another paper, with the words: "Remember the little fisherman's church on Isola Bella!"

Now there was no longer any doubt; that Italian woman had appeared here in the Baltic country, by the remotest lakes of Masuren. She had been to his castle: was it ardent, longing, unconquerable passion, that had urged her to follow him hither? She alone could know of that meeting in the little fisherman's church.

The ghost had long since ceased to make an eerie impression upon Blanden; but the enchanting days and nights that he had passed on the Lago Maggiore, seemed to glow again in his soul; that intoxicating perfume of the South, that beautiful woman's picture that had appeared and vanished again so mysteriously, had bound his recollections as if with some sweet spell.

He gazed out upon the lake. How cold and lifeless it seemed to him; the moon sank behind the western woods; a chilly north wind had arisen in the middle of the summer's night, and swept over the freezing waves! How cold these scentless trees, in their immeasurable monotony!

Before his mind lay the glorious southern lake, in the magical light of the moon, with its islands, that seemed to float upon its waves; one island sent forth its orange perfumes to another; a delicious breeze was wafted through the night.

The cold glaciers of the distant Alpine passes might gleam in the moonlight on the horizon like steel-clad giants; they were only the sentinels who guarded the gates of this Paradise; here all was warm, enchanting life; shores and islands resounded with songs. It was Armida's magic-garden; and how seductive was she herself--that Armida, sparkling with soul and passion!

Blanden called himself to order; how unseemly these recollections appeared to him just now; but despite violent efforts to ward them off, they rose ever again and again.

Impatiently he awaited the morning; but just as the red dawn cast the first pale gleam into the lake he had fallen asleep from over-fatigue, and in the morning's tardy dreams he saw mysterious figures which touched all the contents of his castle, so that a wondrous radiancy streamed forth from them, and through all the rooms he followed a closely-veiled figure, with a magnolia wreath in its hair.

It was late in the morning when he was awoke by Doctor Kuhl, who had just come out of the lake.

Blanden believed he must have dreamed the evening before. In order to convince himself that it was a real occurrence, he once more undertook a tour through the apartments which on the previous evening had offered him such enigmas.

The notes, the album-verses remained unchanged in the light of the morning's sun, just as they had been in the lamp-light. Blanden summoned his steward.

"Who has been here during my absence?"

"I wanted yesterday, gnädiger Herr, to tell you," said old Olkewicz, while assuming a reproachful manner, "but you would not allow me to speak!"

"Then tell me now!"

"It was a few evenings since that two ladies on horseback, with flowing veils, stopped before the castle gate. Their visit was to you, they said, and the one declared herself to be an old acquaintance of the gnädiger Herr; but it appeared to me that they knew quite well you were not here; they begged for permission to see the castle. And as even princes' castles are thrown open to visitors, and ours being a very grand, renowned one, and does not disgrace us, I conducted them round all the apartments; they expressed their admiration of the dining-hall and the chapel, and the beautiful arrangement of the new rooms, thanked me pleasantly, and mounted their horses once more, in order to ride through the wood to the nearest little town. It had been a sultry day; a heavy storm rose above the lake, a violent tempest lashed the waves, before a quarter of an hour had elapsed since the riders left the castle-yard. The trees in the woods crashed; the birches and pines, blown down by the wind, can still give you a token of the hurricane's violence. I became anxious about the ladies, but it was not long before they dashed into the court again, and prayed for hospitable shelter until the storm should be appeased. Your honour will deem it right that I did not refuse them this shelter."

"Certainly, old Olkewicz, we are, indeed, no barbarians."

"The storm discharged itself with fearful fury, and it remained hanging above the trees, and stood firmly in the sky for a long time. And by the time it passed away, night had set in. What remained to me, but to extend the hospitality still farther? The gnädiger Herr was not at home; I could then, without hesitation, grant the ladies a night's quarters without the gnädiger Herr's character--"

"Do not be troubled about that, it is weather-proof!"

"But it is incredible what disturbance a couple of female beings cause in the best regulated establishment. I believe if a woman came into this house, all would be topsy-turvy."

"We will wait and see, old man! But what more happened?"

"I could not sleep! A couple of strange people thus in the house--just as if one's eyes are full of dust; one has no peace! For a long time I sat under the old oak in the park and watched how the lights went from one room to another, like will-o'-the-wisps, and when they actually shone out of the old chapel's glass windows an eerie sensation overcame me, and I thought of the ghosts that dwell in such old churches. Why in the world should they pry about? Did they seek something? I should have liked to ask them; but it would hardly have been proper, they had already bid me 'good-night,' and probably hung their riding dresses upon the chairs. At last it became dark; only the moonlight, which came forth from the dispersing stormy clouds, was reflected upon all the windows.

"I decided to retire to rest also," old Olkewicz continued his relation, "and made only one more round of the castle. There--God punish me!--stood a white form with unbound hair, above upon the gallery of the tower, and gleamed as brightly as if she had intercepted the whole moonlight. I did not stir! She stood a long--long time--and stared out at the lake, her arms crossed, and then, again, as if musing, she rested her head upon her arm, and it upon the balustrade. She must have been visible a long, long way off, and if all had not been still as death upon the lake the sailors must have been frightened at the ghost high up upon the tower."

"Then this lake, too, has found its Lorelei," said Blanden, softly to himself.

"Early on the following morning both disappeared, after cordial thanks and considerable gifts; I felt quite comfortable again, as though we had been released from some haunting spirit."

"And how did these ladies look?"

"Well, the ghostly apparition upon the tower was worth seeing; she looked like a queen; her carriage was commanding, her voice had a beautiful ring. Whether brown or blonde, I did not study her so accurately; all colours seemed to me to play about her, she confused me so, after I had seen her up there as a spirit. The other was little, and had nothing at all ghost-like about her. She seemed to be an attendant; she resembled our housemaid, Bertha; she had a pair of small blinking eyes, and something sly about her whole person."

"It is possible that it was some spirit that sought me out," said Blanden to himself.

"If your gnädiger is convinced of it," replied Olkewicz, "I shall not contradict it at all! at least in our neighbourhood there is no sort of woman-kind that could ever so remotely resemble that lady."

"Say nothing concerning this visit," said Blanden, "and desire my people also to maintain silence about it. Enough thereof. To-day, wines, provisions and delicacies will arrive from Königsberg, whence I have ordered them. Make all, preparations for a large dinner that I intend to give. Keep the Castle clean, get the guest's stables into order!"

"About the harvest, gnädiger Herr--"

"Agricultural matters another time! Whether the harvest be good or bad we cannot alter it. Rain and sunshine do their best--even although we have visited ever so many agricultural colleges."

Old Olkewicz held quite opposite views, and was least of all satisfied that the young master had done away with the rule of the rod which formerly was in vogue here; his theory was based upon the great principle that, in order to garner good corn, the people must first be more threshed than the corn afterwards; yet he ventured upon no objection.

Kuhl had listened silently to the discussion. "Then here we sit in an enchanted castle," cried he, "and adventures seek you!"

"I must confess to you," said Blanden, "that I know no solution of this enigma. Certainly I entertain no doubt that it is yonder mysterious beauty who made me look upon Lago Maggiore in a doubly entrancing light; but how she found her way to the most remote of Masuren's lakes is inexplicable to me; and if no other feeling, curiosity at least urges me most pressingly to interest myself in her again."

"And may a poor mortal, then, whose path such charming adventures do not cross, not learn what the circumstances of the case are?"

"That you shall--and on this evening. I feel a need myself to bring those days once more before my mind. Yet to do so I need leisure and quiet, which the day's bustle will not permit. Look, there comes Wegen in his one-horse trap, he brings us news how matters look amongst the Phœacians."

His lively friend came in briskly and eagerly, a cigar in his mouth.

"These wind-falls in your forest--colossal! Trees lie about like toothpicks which have fallen out of an overturned case. The storm has even played havoc with an old oak yonder upon the dam, and hurled its head to the ground, as my Friederich does the plume of feathers on his hat, when I decline some entertainment; but how are you going on?"

"Blanden has had wonderful dreams," said Kuhl.

"Nothing new, nothing new," replied Wegen, stroking his moustache, "that occurs nightly with me. Friederich says it arises from the grey peas which I am passionately fond of eating in an evening; a man feels like an East Prussian when he sees such a dish before him. Lately I dreamed I was manœuvring with the Landwehr; I had to lead a company of sharpshooters. The signal sounds; my company stands like a wall; I rush furiously upon it; the fellows stick together and I cannot tear them asunder, give myself what trouble I may. The colonel rides up--'Thunder and lightning! Wegen, what are you doing?' and I awake bathed in perspiration! Horrible dreams! But even waking one does not meet with anything pleasant."

"What has happened, then?" asked Blanden.

"Well, Schön has fallen into disgrace; he relinquishes his post; the enemies of the constitution in Berlin bear away the victory."

"They do not want a constitutional State," interrupted Kuhl, "and even if you did carry it through, it would only be the semblance. The State's machinery would become rather more complicated and expensive, and that is not desired; beyond that, they know quite well, that little else in the matter will be altered. What could otherwise be set in motion with one shove, would then require several handles and winches, in order to let a noisy parliamentary machinery play; majorities are needed, and when things are needed, there they are too; more intelligent ministers are required--that is all! At present their signatures impose upon people, then their personal qualities must do so; but if you think that anything else will ever be carried out than what the Government chooses, it is a great mistake. Much dust will be raised, then those who would fain be great in Parliament would come and cry, 'I have raised all that dust,' like the fly in the fable. The car of the State, however, would roll on its way amidst the dust, and in that direction too, in which it is guided. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes! A constitution would be a Danaîdes gift to Prussia!"

"No," replied Blanden, "that which Schön and others of the same mind have been preparing for a long time, will only prove beneficial for this country when it gains life. That is my firm conviction; free constitutional forms would bring another spirit into the people. While we who demand a constitution are now deemed to be rebels, a time will come, when the most zealous bureaucrats will look upon such an organisation as the most natural, and will not comprehend how any one could ever doubt it, or rather have quite forgotten that the courage and zeal of the East Prussian communities first unfurled this banner. But the obstinate refusal of the Government in Berlin fills me with joyful courage for the fight. How does it stand with my guests, Wegen? Have you seen about my invitations?"

"Well," said Wegen, as he stroked his moustache, much satisfied, "I have managed my affair well; they are all coming, all. Some out of politeness, others from motives of political zeal and a sense of duty, as they would know, of course, what a candidate for election has to say to them; many from curiosity, to become acquainted with the Ordensburg. They did not find you at home on their return visits; in short, you will have a perfect rainbow of political colours at your table; naturally all the others very pale, the liberal red outshining them. But, my dear friend, I have still to go to the district town. The Landrath is from home for a few days; he returns to-morrow, and will not be missing from your dinner; the Chief Deputy of the district has gout, so I must represent him. Look at me; to-day you see in me the Father of the district; do you not perceive the dignity of my demeanour? Even a couple of legal document wrinkles have put in their appearance! But I find nothing prepared for my reception. I do not mean wooden, triumphal arches, nor unattractive maidens clad in white, but something palatable--an enjoyable breakfast."

Blanden took care that a breakfast should be served, by which Wegen did his duty bravely, and then conducted his friend, at the latter's desire, to the stables. They were splendid places; Blanden had been as careful that horses of the finest race should fill his stalls, as he had been in devoting the most anxious attention to the neglected breed of sheep in East Prussia. He showed this living inventory, not without contented pride, and Wegen, in his good nature, went so far as to indulge this little weakness of his friend, and to let himself be led again and again into the agricultural sanctum, although he already knew every horse's head so accurately that he could have sketched it, and had sorted the wool of each single sheep on its body.

Then together they looked at the new buildings which Wegen had especially superintended, because Blanden, from horror of the masons' noise, had taken flight.

"The guest-chambers have been carried out according to your plans," said Wegen, "but I permitted myself to have them ornamented with a few elegant additions. It is too cruel the way guests are treated in most houses; one is shoved into a bare room, a sort of guard room, in any corner of the house, like an old travelling trunk or carpet-bag. These elegant canopied beds and carpets, the toilet-table furnished with everything that Parisian genius has invented; even upon the chest of drawers, work materials with needles, upon the little tables beside the beds, the newest German and French novels for reading before going to sleep, are my idea. Certainly it costs a fearful sum, and in addition of your money; but you will be satisfied with it, as Kulmitten will be a radiant example for all East Prussia, and what is done for civilisation is never lost."

Blanden nodded pleasantly and approvingly to his friend, who was chatting in the brightest wine-inspired mood, and then accompanied him to his carriage, in which he drove away to occupy the proud place upon the sella curulis of a Prussian Landrath.

As the evening's twilight had crept in, Blanden with Doctor Kuhl sat upon the balcony of the castle, looking over the lake. It was a cool summer evening; heavy leaden clouds lay above the lake, and the tall oak trees which shut in its broad mirror--there must have been thunder in the distance; the remains of stormy clouds were thrown up one above another, like charred logs of wood, and a freezing blast swept over the lonely lake. The lamps beside which Blanden and his friend sat, trembled in the soft sway of the evening breeze; the whole effect of the landscape had something mournfully wearisome, disconsolately monotonous; behind it again lay woods and lakes, lakes and woods; the course of cultivation had hardly touched these districts; the life of the people, the life of individuals pointed to but few memories in these forsaken places. Before Blanden's mind arose, with double charm, the picture of that Italian landscape, where in one paradise of nature, taste and cultivation create themselves enchanting asylums, where every foot's breadth of land stirs up fascinating recollections, and has been overcome by civilisation, where the great pilgrim train of strangers brings the culture of Europe in ever changing forms.

Under the influence of this mood, he began to relate his adventure on Lago Maggiore to his friend.