CHAPTER III.
[THE MISTRESS OF THE BOARDING SCHOOL.]
Da. Reising's credit had done its duty, as was shown by the shining brass plate, upon which the skilful town engraver had etched the words, "Lori Baute's Boarding School," in large, legible characters.
There she sat, a small sovereign of a small state. The first object of her ambition was attained. Indignant as she was at the noise which the classes sometimes made, to her there was even a melodious echo in the tumult. All these noisy beings are your pupils, entrusted to you, given up to your authority, and this turbulence only proves how your school flourishes.
She had adopted a short, decided, dictatorial manner, and practised it before the mirror; she had also pondered over a necessary alteration in her dress, and arrived at the conclusion that her present position required a certain sacrifice, the sacrifice of youth. Fräulein Sohle, her predecessor, had none to make in that respect, she was totally different from her pupils, with the advantage of her maturer years, and with unartificial dignity, such as is united without effort to creases, wrinkles, and a figure which only appears as the physical residuum of an intellectually extinguished spirit.
But Lori was still young; her looking glass told her that she might compete in charms with the youngest teachers, yes, she even looked younger than she was.
School, and that life to which she might still lay claim, were opposed to one another, but she must make some concession. She made up her mind to it, and decided upon the loss of those curls, which the profane world designated "love-locks."
It was not easy for her to relinquish the glossy, youthful head-gear, but the gloomy framework of snake-like curls imparted an otherwise unattainable dignity to her features. To be sure her eyes flashed out all the more boldly, and her tiny person could not possibly transform itself into a Juno. Nevertheless she knew how to inspire respect; wherever she appeared, all noise was stilled, her omniscience was feared, because she knew how to find out by inquisition and torture everything that happened in any portion of her dominions. The governesses were afraid of her and her spies; they felt that every step was watched, without knowing in what tangible form those dark powers dogged their heels.
The older tutors also obeyed the young ruler's will with a certain gallantry; only the young master with the moustache opposed an unbending mind, and appeared to be determined to go his own way.
She was thought to be omniscient, poor Lori! How gladly would she have been so! because unnatural obscurity hovered over one of the most important questions which occupied her. Far away beyond the attained goal her ambition was again striving after new objects--how very different to be a proud châtelaine, and the wife of a nobleman of position--and was this impossible for her?
She sat silently, and counted up all the tokens of attention which Blanden had vouchsafed to her. The sum was a considerable one, if only all the separate posts had been secure--!
Blanden had availed himself of her last invitation in the confectioner's shop to visit Reising, just before his departure to the province, and, indeed, on the same day. Was it merely his eagerness to fulfil a social duty while he had time, or was it liking for, and interest in her poor self?
Dr. Reising had received him very pleasantly. Euphrasia had been agreeable, yes, coquettish--Lori had no other name for it; even Emma had shed the light of her kitchen lantern upon the high politics of the reception-room; and actually Albertine made up her mind to speak.
But he had distinguished her above all the others, talked with her in preference, and she herself had been intellectual, particularly intellectual; she must say that for herself, there are days upon which the silver melts unaided from the mental ore, and becomes liquid, days of an intellectual silvery appearance. Could Blanden be unsusceptible to such silvery looks? For he had been in the province a long time. Dr. Reising had departed with her sisters; she had undertaken the school, it was a time of anxiety. He was far away, she could only preserve his image in her heart, and at rare moments take it out for devout contemplation.
But now he had returned again, she had seen him. Twice he had ridden past her house. Was it chance, or intentional? He had looked up at her windows; did he seek her, or did he only notice the wild noise issuing from one of the classes, the windows of which, in spite of the cold, had to be opened on account of a worn-out stove!
Much more weighty was the fact that for several days she had each morning found a bouquet of hot-house flowers in her vase.
A man-servant had delivered them to the housemaid without giving the name of the donor. In each bouquet was concealed an envelope, in which was a card containing a verse. Such forbidden goods in a girls' school, and to be sent to her, the mistress! But she resigned herself to the inevitable, did not burn the cards, nor did she forbid the reception of the bouquets.
Did they come from Blanden? A blissful suspicion told her so, she believed to find reminiscences of their conversations in some of the verses. Had he not spoken of the solitude of his woods, and did not the first verse begin with an allusion to it?--
"Without thee darling I am lonely,
All the light of life doth die,
All my heaven is in thee only,
No star is in th' eternal sky
Save thou smile and bid me see,
Save thou come and bide with me."
She imagined she heard Blanden's soft mellifluous voice in the melody of these lines; but why did he not come? She would gladly have let her eyes shine upon him.
Bolder was the last poem! It spoke of the lotus-flower. Blanden had been in India, the exotic colouring of the lines possessed a warmth such as only personal experience can impart:
"A god of Hindoo dreams,
Cradled in the lotus-flower,
Then enchanted it would seem
By a goddess' magic power;
And wert thou my goddess true
I should be enchanted too."
In spite of the oriental figurative language, the meaning of these lines was not incomprehensible; they were from Blanden. They must have originated from him, and mentally Lori composed the anti-strophe--
"Let the lotus shed its perfume,
Tarry not in lover's pain,
In the castle of Kulmitten
I will as your goddess reign."
And if Blanden were the author, the sender of these exotic nosegays, nothing but delicate consideration could restrain him from seeking her! He indeed knew where the lotus-flower bloomed, but could he know how he should be received? He must show some regard for the mistress' character, upon which her existence depends. He had no pretext for such a visit; he had no little daughter to introduce. Oh, she understood him thoroughly, and she respected him the more, the more she understood him.
She considered long what pretext she could find for a meeting; she made plans, and rejected them again. At last she decided upon her favourite weapon, a pink note--an anonymous pink note! He was discreet, she might trust him, there was nothing remarkable about a chance meeting in the confectioner's shop; but the reason? This was of less importance; once she was seated before him, all doubts must vanish.
These lines, these flowers, and the look in his eyes, a single pregnant word--and the enigma would be solved with magic speed.
The pink note merely contained the words, "a lady begs for your advice and help," also the place and the hour of the assignation.
Blanden was on friendly terms with Reising; she, without male support since her brother-in-law's departure, had she not every right to turn to him, and her doing so would enlighten him.
There was the tutor with the moustache, handsome Dr. Sperner, he became bolder and more defiant each day, yes even at times he seemed to treat her like a little girl, and not as the principal of the school. Blanden should advise her how she was to behave to the doctor, a little interference in her favour would lower the young man's presumptuous tone; he must learn that she was sure of manly protection.
When in the act of taking her straw hat out of the drawer so as to make her toilette in keeping with her correspondence, Dr. Sperner was announced again. He entered so boldly, that one might have expected to see spurs on his boots.
"You wish to speak to me, dear Fräulein?"
"Later, a few hours later, I begged you to come to me."
"I know, but I shall not have time! This white slavery only extends over lectures and consultations, not the entire day, even if it be the most amiable lady planter's slavery."
"What do these insinuations mean, Herr Doctor?"
"I gladly look upon myself as your slave, my Fräulein! If capital be allowed to plunder our mental labour, it may be endured from an owner of capital, such as you, dear Fräulein, with whom a man could live. But what do you wish?"
"I can now only explain my views very briefly upon two points which I wish to see altered; yes, I expect, I command that they be altered!"
The Doctor bowed with a mocking smile.
"Even on my first visit to the establishment, I made these observations," continued Lori, while she assumed a stern tone, and shook back one spiral curl that fell over her face, "the themes which you give to the pupils are totally unsuitable, just so the theme for the last composition, 'Why did Egmont not marry Klärchen?' That does not appear to be the proper manner of introducing our classics."
"There our views differ, dear Fräulein! Upon reflection, you will find how improving such tasks are. They accustom the girls to grasp the most important questions in life in an independent manner, and, above all, to treat them with tact. Besides, I avoid themes which lead to commonplaces, and which have already been written upon hundreds of times. New questions which cause independent thought--that is my object. I should like to wager that hitherto even you have not thought over my questions."
"I must decline, Herr Doctor, to be placed on a par with my pupils."
"I am far from doing so, excepting on one point, namely, youth and loveliness."
"You forget to whom you are speaking. Such susceptibility, however, is a superfluous quality in the masters at my school."
"What would a teacher of youth be, who possessed no susceptibility for the beautiful?"
"Many pupils and their parents complain of your partiality. I find that they are right. I have examined the corrected copy-books very closely. You show such partiality to that fat Iduna; orthographical mistakes, which, for the others, you mark with thick red lines, in her case you treat as clerical errors, which you do not count, which you do not put down in the margin or add up. Thus Iduna always receives a good notice. And yet that girl brought forward the unutterable nonsense that Egmont did not marry Klärchen because it would have been inconvenient, and marriage, especially owing to ladies' dress, costs too much money; although lace was made in Brussels and Flanders, and was cheaper than with us. And this sentence you did not even cross out, while you accompany the poetical ideas of other girls with red notes of interrogation."
"Iduna possesses sound common sense, although she is of a prosaic nature. We must encourage it. On the other hand, it is a master's duty to eradicate betimes all that is too fantastic; life does not fulfil such foolish dreams."
"As well as Iduna, you favour Clara, who is not her inferior as to voluptuous form; it seems that you like full-blown roses."
"You are mistaken, Fräulein; besides, my private taste has nothing to do with my profession and your establishment. It is thoroughly feminine to recognise no principles, and to impute everything to the affections."
"Because," interposed Lori, "in a boarding school they are ill-weeds, which must be eradicated first of all."
"As you like to decide upon matters which do not belong to your duties as principal, although, as a girl, they may be interesting to you--"
"The distinctions which you make are unsuitable--"
"Then I must defend my taste against your accusations. I do not love such phlegmatic contented natures. I love what is fine and piquant--vivacious, intellectual eyes, dainty figures--"
"I thank you for your confessions, but I am not in a position to listen to them any longer; I must leave you. But yet, I must request better themes for German tasks, and greater impartiality--and you will obey my orders."
"Certainly; 'Thoughts on the awaking of Spring' shall be the next theme for our first-class, and Iduna shall receive the worst report. You had better take your fur instead of your cloak, Fräulein! It is bittterly cold, as the sentries say in 'Hamlet,' before they see the ghost. Can I assist you? That pink bonnet becomes you charmingly, dear Fräulein! You can wear the most youthful colours, but smooth bands of hair would suit you better than these corkscrews. Good-by!"
With a mocking smile, but a fiery glance at the young mistress, the audacious Doctor took leave. Lori was indignant at his daring, and at the superior tone which he assumed, but she was still more angry with herself that she had not been able to keep him within bounds; that she felt subdued before him, as was Mark Antony before Cæsar's genius. She must procure advice, it was high time.
Soon Lori was seated in the confectioner's shop, and waited eagerly for the result of her pink note.
Blanden entered: he went excitedly and hastily through the apartments; he had received the note, and connected its contents with Giulia, who occupied all his thoughts. For this reason he had acceded to its invitation, although the preparation for his meeting with the Lieutenant claimed all his time. He recognised Lori, and went towards her; she thought it advisable at once to acknowledge her authorship of the note. Blanden seated himself beside her, and listened absently to her communications. The less Lori really had to say, the longer she spun it out: she began with their meeting at the sea-side, with the friendship which Professor Reising had always entertained for Blanden; she painted pictures of the short time they had been together, in the most vivid colours. Blanden sat there so dreamily; was he revelling in the same recollections; did he smile in silent delight, or only out of politeness?
Now Lori began to talk about herself; she drew a touching sketch of her childhood and youth. Blanden's eyes became more and more concealed beneath their lids, imparting a dreamy appearance to him; was it fervour or abstraction?
In the midst of her recital Lori watched the play of her listener's countenance with nervous attention, and was miserable that she could not fathom the impression which her words made upon him, because this was the principal object of the meeting. She hardly dared confess to herself that she had perceived how forced was his attention, and that his pulses did not seem to beat any higher.
She sought to awaken a deep interest by representing how difficult it was for a girl to fight her way through the world; she had bought the school, but now stood there quite isolated, helpless in many respects. She complained of several governesses, especially of the rebellious master.
"Then I should dismiss him," said Blanden, with great composure.
"It is not so easy as you think. He has his faults, but it is difficult to find a substitute. Besides, he is thought something of in society. In such an establishment one has not only to think of the daughters, but also of the mothers. And, as far as the mothers are concerned, he is a veritable Faust; he possesses the keys to their hearts."
"But he would listen to serious remonstrance."
"He treats me, I hardly like to say it, as a loveable little person, who, by mere chance, has been wafted to the head of the school; as a cypher, to which some small capital has put a figure before it. If he knew that I am not quite unprotected, that my brother-in-law, that my brother-in-law's friends support me--"
"It is a knight's duty to protect ladies who implore protection," said Blanden. "I shall always fulfil that duty. If the young Doctor should be guilty of anything in the least degree unbecoming towards you, reckon upon me; I shall call him to account."
This sounded so delightful, so hopeful! Lori's heart exulted, her eyes rested with such confiding trust upon the knight, who vowed his services to her; words of gratitude flowed warmly and fervently from her lips.
Now she had gained courage to prosecute her research as to whether the knight had already borne any lady's colours.
"You surely lead a very solitary life in Kulmitten?" asked she, assuming a most significant air, and emphasising the word "solitary" very markedly.
"I shall spend the winter mostly in the town," replied Blanden.
The man with the iron mask, thought she, he denies his flowers, but has he, like many, only warm feelings in his verses?
The suspicion that those lines did not originate from him still appeared incredible to her.
"One who has lived so long in Hindustan, amongst the lotus-flowers, may, indeed, find it very desolate here with us."
She cast a sympathetic glance at Blanden, who was so impolite as to look at his watch at that very moment.
"Lotus-flowers, the cradle of the gods," continued Lori, raising her eyes like her sister Ophelia, for which, however, she had not the long silken lashes; she had no talent for moonlight of the soul.
"Nothing looks so poetical when seen quite closely," said Blanden, "as in the poet's verses, neither lotus flowers, nor gods, nor bayaderes. The lotus flowers are of as beautiful a pink as your bonnet, Fräulein, Nevertheless, the holy plant possesses a very prosaic side, too; bread can be made from its fruit."
Was this meant for a significant or, perhaps, even a malicious allusion? Lori had plenty of time for reflection, because immediately after Blanden politely took leave, while he repeated that he should always be ready to protect her.
A feeling of great uncertainty took possession of her. All that Blanden said was so cool, so distant. Had she been mistaken? Did the castles of Kulmitten and Rositten belong to those in the air? or was he only teasing her? Did the merry cupids take refuge in his flowers and lines of poetry, while he acted the part of grave invincibility?
As Lori left the confectioner's shop, she had to pass readers, who were deeply absorbed in their newspapers. One gigantic sheet was suddenly lowered, and behind it appeared the moustache of Dr. Sperner, who greeted the principal of the boarding school with a slight bow, and smiled familiarly, as she strolled past him.
After a sleepless night, in which the ardent desires of her heart were driven to flight by the implacable calculation of her understanding, and after mature consideration, she was obliged to acknowledge a defeat, which, happily, she had suffered in total secrecy. In the morning she again found a bouquet of flowers and a note:
"Ah, these runes, dear, pray decypher,
Put an end to my love's pain;
For 'tis not Iduna I love,
No, I love but you alone!"
This was the height of impudence. The moustachioed teacher cast his mask aside. In her own establishment had sprung up the ill-weeds of poetry and bouquets.
Should she give him notice?
Under existing circumstances she resolved not at once to speak about these love poems, so opposed to all rule, but to hold farther mental debates with herself.
Iduna's next exercise teemed with red corrections. Lori rewarded Dr. Sperner for them with a grateful smile.