Oswald made no reply; he recollected what he had heard about the relations between Melitta and her husband, and how the latter had now been for seven years the victim of incurable insanity. A faint suspicion of the painful scenes that must have preceded the actual crisis, the fearful catastrophe, overcame him; he regretted having touched unconsciously the curtain that hid so dark a family drama. But at the same time he was filled with deep, unspeakable sympathy for the charming woman who was condemned to lead a lonely, mournful life in this green wilderness, in spite of all her youth and beauty. What were to her youth and beauty and wealth without love! and did she obtain that love which she deserved so well, and for which she yearned so ardently, she whose gentle, longing eyes betrayed an unfathomable depth of tenderness and passion?
Sympathy is the first-born brother of the sweet sister Love. While Oswald was pitying the fate of the fair lady, he felt how a spring of painfully sweet feelings gushed forth warm from his heart and filled it to overflowing. And if old classic love was born in the foam of the waves, romantic modern love not unfrequently prefers the soft, perfumed air of a luxuriant garden full of sweet flowers and fragrant foliage. Voluptuous shadows dwelt in the cozy bowers; the afternoon sun lay dreamily upon the green lawns; the birds were singing joyously in the dense crowns of mighty trees, butterflies were dancing merrily above the sun-drunk forests of bright flowers.
Slowly the two tall companions sauntered through the green gardens, now stopping to admire a rose-bush, which outshone all its neighbors in its exuberant splendor, and now following with the eye a squirrel, as it merrily flew from branch to branch and from tree to tree. More and more Oswald began to feel as if he were walking in a glorious dream, as if he were only dreaming of all this sunshine, this fragrance of flowers, this singing of birds--as if he were only dreaming of Melitta's sweet voice and Melitta's love-speaking eyes--and Melitta also felt as if she were seeing to-day very differently with her eyes, and hearing very differently with her ears. The strange man, to whom she was showing her possessions, looked so familiar to her; she felt as if she had known him many many years, as if she had known him all her life. On the other hand, the things she had seen every day for long years, looked to her almost strange now. So true is it that, after all, man takes most interest in his fellow-man, and understands nothing else as well in the whole range of his surroundings. For the sake of a single human soul, which chimes in harmoniously with our own, we cheerfully throw overboard all the plunder which in idle hours, and when higher enjoyments are wanting, has to fill up our life. And if this is true for men, it is doubly so for women. They know but one kind of bliss upon earth: to love; and only one happiness: to be loved. Melitta's heart, which for years had been forced to content itself with superficial affections and empty flirtations, was yearning after a true, deep passion. When the young man now raised his half-reverent, half-defiant glances with sincere admiration and an almost caressing devotion to her face, and wove around her a magic net, whose meshes were constantly drawing more closely, she felt far too happy not to be heartily grateful towards him who afforded her such sweet enjoyment.
Thus she felt ineffably happy, and yet also more seriously inclined than she was accustomed. The storm of wild passion, which was gradually rising on the horizon of her soul, cast its dark shadows in advance on her sun-lit mind, and the first cold breath tore the veil which time had slowly woven over so many a bright picture of past days. While Oswald was sketching a plan of education for Julius, such as seemed to him best, he accidentally came to speak of his own life; allowing the beautiful woman to catch many a glimpse of the innermost recesses of his heart. She felt this as a sign of his love and his veneration for her, and was deeply moved by it. Many thoughts which the young man presented to her in his lively manner with pleasing eloquence, had been suggested to her once before, and in almost the same words, by a man who had been very dear to her, and whose uncommon character had attracted and enchained her active mind while his roughness had repelled and offended her gentle disposition. Here, now, she found once more the roses whose voluptuous fragrance had then intoxicated her, but without their thorns; here she found what she had so painfully missed in those days: beauty of form, grace of motion, and harmony of speech.
CHAPTER XIII.
Sauntering up and down in the walks between the flower-beds, they only recalled their first intention to go into the house when they came near it a second time. They entered through the open door into a room whose admirable proportions, and simple, tasteful decoration made at once a most pleasing impression on Oswald. The tall chestnut-trees before the windows kept the room shady and cool. The subdued light was grateful to the eyes after the overwhelming sunshine of the garden. Comfortable chairs in various shapes and sizes, American rocking-chairs, French causeuses, a large grand-action piano, tables covered with books and portfolios, scattered here and there over the large room, gave it, amidst all the abundance of objects, something cozy, which contrasted most delightfully with the stiff regularity at the château of Grenwitz.
"I am quite curious to see if anybody will come when I ring," said Melitta, throwing her hat on a table and going towards the bell-rope; "it is by no means impossible that we may have to go ourselves to the pantry, provided always we can find the key."
She rang the bell and turned again to Oswald, who was looking at one of the marble busts with which the walls of the room were adorned.
"How do you like that mask?"
"Very much indeed--it is the Rondanini Medusa."