"Here the instruction is only the guide to the elucidation of our whole life," replied the Professor. "Under these circumstances, you will be able to contemplate only from a distance the future Sovereign of Bielstein as belonging to you; and I shall also lose certain faint hopes which I had built upon the passing acquaintance with his father. For it is undoubtedly probable that my refusal will be considered as an act of capricious pride."
The Professor might have been at ease upon this point. Care would be taken that his views should not reach the destination for which they were intended. The sharpness would be blunted, the point broken, for indeed in the higher regions such an idea would be considered so monstrous that it could only be put down to the account of a reprobate man; and this was by no means the case with the Professor.
The Rector was cautious enough to give plausible reasons for Werner's refusal, and at the Prince's palace it was determined that the Hereditary Prince should attend the Professor's lectures. From a syllabus of Werner's lectures a course was selected; it was on the inspection and explanation of casts of antique sculpture, during which the Hereditary Prince and his attendant had at least not to sit among a crowd of colored caps, but could wander about in princely isolation.
Again did the ripened ears of corn wave gently under the autumn breeze, when Ilse went with her husband to the home of her childhood to visit her father. A year abounding in happiness, but not free from pain, had passed. Her own life also had been a little history in which she had experienced peace and strife, progress and weakness. Her pale cheeks showed that she had encountered suffering, and her thoughtful countenance portrayed the serious thoughts that had passed through her mind; but when she glanced at the weather-beaten church, and fixed her eyes on the dark roof of her father's house, everything was forgotten, and she felt again as a child in the peaceful home which now appeared so refreshing and comforting. The farm-people thronged round the gate; and her sisters rushed to meet her, and her father, towering above all, helped her and her husband out of the carriage. She clasped every one of them in a silent embrace; but when little Franz sprang up to her, she pressed him to her heart, and, losing all her composure, burst into tears, and the father was obliged to take the child from her arms.
They could only pay a short visit, for his professional duties compelled the Professor to return home soon; and though he had proposed to Ilse to remain longer with her father, she declined doing so.
The father looked searchingly at the manner and countenance of his daughter, and made the Professor tell him repeatedly how rapidly and easily she had made herself at home in the city. Meanwhile Ilse flew through the farm-yard and garden out into the fields, again gambolling with her little sisters, who would not let go her hand.
"You are all grown," she exclaimed, "but my curly head most of all--he will be like his father. You will be a country gentleman, Franz."
"No, a Professor," answered the boy.
"Ah, you poor child!" said Ilse.