Unfortunately, the next day was to give him ample occasion for practising that wicked art.
For that very morning, as he returned from his meeting with Baumann, who had been waiting for him in the forest at the appointed place to take his letter, he could not deny himself the pleasure of walking about a little in the garden. He intended only to stay a few minutes, to walk just once around on the great wall, but he had now made the turn twice from the great portal back again to the great portal, and was beginning to make it for the third time, for the morning was really delightful, and, if his eyes did not deceive him, a light dress was shining through the trees and shrubs on the other side. Probably one of the village girls at work in the garden. How he was surprised, therefore, when he found soon after that it was Miss Helen! He could not think of avoiding her. There were only a few flights of steps leading down into the garden. There was nothing left, therefore, but to cross his hands behind his back and to saunter slowly on, watching the birds as they fluttered about in the branches, and the ducks below in the moat, and to be a little surprised when he met Miss Helen precisely at the same time and the same place as yesterday.
Miss Helen returned his bow with that calm reserve which harmonized so well with the somewhat sombre character of her beauty, although it seemed almost too cold and too haughty for a girl of her youthful age. Perhaps her greeting would not have been quite so formal if Oswald had not on purpose suppressed every trace of pleasant excitement. Then followed a short conversation, by no means overflowing with cleverness, on the weather, and a few indifferent questions on Oswald's part about the promenade of last night, with short answers by Helen. Then once more a polite and cool exchange of formal phrases. Miss Helen continued her walk; Oswald had finished his promenade, which he "always enjoyed between six and seven on the wall,"--a statement by no means founded on truth,--and went back to his room. "What a pity," he said to himself, "that such splendid beauty should hold, after all, but an ordinary soul! What would Professor Berger say, if he saw his lovely bud unfolded now into a dark-red rose? Would he weave another wreath of sonnets and press it on her rich hair? Good, dear Berger, was it a suggestion of your good or your evil angel, both of whom continually struggle for the mastery in your great soul, to send me here into the camp of our enemies? I was to return laden with trophies, scalps of slain Iroquois which we were to hang up in our wigwams to feast our eyes--what would you say if you heard of the narrow escapes your Uncas has had from being scalped himself? But I will keep one promise: I will not fall in love with this early praised beauty--no, and if she were as clever as she is beautiful."
When Oswald came down to dinner he was most pleasantly surprised to find Doctor Braun, who had come a few minutes before, and had accepted the baroness' invitation to stay to dinner.
The doctor appeared in a larger circle to as much advantage as in private; an easy, sociable, and refined man, who evidently had very unusual powers of conversation and perfect self-possession. And what was still more attractive, and really won Doctor Braun the hearts of all, at least of all men of sense, was his real or apparent unconsciousness of all these advantages. Nothing was evidently farther from him than to make an exhibition of himself; on the contrary, he took pleasure in leading others to a clearer understanding of their views, and thus he was not less a good and patient listener than a skilful speaker--two virtues rarely found united.
Oswald saw with surprise that if the doctor distinguished any one in the company, it could only be Miss Helen, and with still greater surprise, that the young lady, when speaking to him, laid aside a part of her haughty reserve. They had made music together before dinner, playing a sonata for four hands; then Helen had sung a few songs, while the doctor accompanied her. At table they sat by each other, and conversed with animation about the different styles of music; the doctor displaying a thorough knowledge of composition, and Miss Helen at least a lively appreciation of matters of music; and when he took leave, directly after dinner, she regretted his eagerness to go so warmly, and begged him so earnestly to be sure and send the promised music very soon,--no, rather to bring it himself, so that they might play it together,--that the doctor might have boasted of a great success if it had been his intention to make a favorable impression on the young lady.
"You are not fond of music?" he asked Oswald, whom he had accompanied to his room for the few minutes till the horses should be ready.
"No, and the harmony of sweet notes has so few attractions for me that I closed my window last night when Miss Helen sang that barcarolle which seemed to give you such delight."
"That is indeed remarkable. I do not remember ever having heard such a--what shall I say--such a mystic alto voice."
"Might not the beauty of the performer affect the impartiality of the judgment?"