Eric placed his hand on Knopf's shoulder, unable to answer a word; admiration and a desire to laugh contended within him, but admiration conquered. A man of such an appearance must have overcome much in himself to be able to express himself in this way. He went with Knopf to the village, telling him that he ought to have come to see him at the villa, and that he would have found him quite alone, if he wished to avoid the family, for they had gone with Herr von Pranken to the convent, to bring Manna home.
"Ah, poor girl!" said Knopf, pityingly. "I can venture to say, that I have already had more than fifty lovely noble maidens as pupils, and not one-half, no, not one-quarter of them have married as I should have wished. Ah, Herr Colleague, you see I have never in my life repeated in one house what happened in another, and you can understand that it has been a difficult duty. Mothers always want to find out what goes on here and there, but I have refrained, on principle, from telling anything. Whoever gossips to me will gossip about me, my mother always said. I have taken heed of that, and so have got on very well."
Eric was delighted with the true-hearted man, and he quickly drove away the thought that Pranken was going to bring the rich bride for himself from the convent. What was the maiden to him?
He left his horse at the village inn, and Knopf conducted him to a spot under the lindens on the hill-top, and there explained his views about Roland.
"I must, like a child," he began, "tell you of my last observation, and my last trouble. You are not in a hurry? I must honestly confess to you, that nothing in our time vexes me so much, as to find people always in a hurry."
Eric set his mind at rest, by telling him that he had the whole day at his disposal, concluding,—
"Now, go on."
"Then for my last trouble. As I walked hither over the mountain, past the forest-chapel yonder, all was fresh with dew, the birds were singing undisturbed, heedless of the ringing of the matin bell in the chapel above, and of the railroad bell below. What did self-sufficing nature, in this season of early spring love, care for these sounds? But that isn't exactly what I meant to say to you," he interrupted himself, placing his hand upon his tablets, which undoubtedly contained a poem in this strain. "Only this—as I was walking along the wood-path, I heard children's voices, clear and merry, and a mild and gentle one seemed to have control over them. There came up the mountain a beautiful maiden—no, I beg your pardon, I did not see that she was beautiful till afterwards—I was just taking it comfortably, and had removed my spectacles in the green forest; now I put them on again, and saw first some beautiful, plump, white hands. The girl saw me, and I don't know what she may have thought, but she seemed frightened, and took the hand of her oldest brother, a boy of thirteen; two younger boys were following her. I passed them with a greeting; the maiden made only a slight acknowledgment, but the boys said 'good-morning,' aloud. We went our different ways, and I looked long after them.
"I turned back to the chapel. The quiet and order reigning there, where no human beings dwell, everything ready for their devotion, those holy vessels, the pictures, the candles, and the good priest. I don't believe a man who so bows down, kneels, and raises his hands in prayer, can be wholly a hypocrite; the lowest criminal in the jail would be an angel compared with him. The sermon itself was only a milk-and-water affair. But would you believe it? my real reason for going back had been a wish to see the maiden again, but I felt ashamed of having entered the church from such a motive, and I slipped out on tip-toe. And then all personal feeling dropped from me, and the great trouble came over me."
"What do you mean?"