"At last I can bring you a good report. In a small bundle of deeds in the Marshal's office, which had hitherto unaccountably escaped me, I have found a lost entry on a single sheet. The chests which the official at Bielstein sent in the beginning of the last century to the vanished castle are briefly designated as numbers one and two, with a remark that they contained besides old cross-bows, arrows, &c., manuscripts of the monastery of Rossau. Thus, there were two chests with manuscripts of the monastery in them."
The Princess looked with curiosity at the sheet which he laid before her.
"It was high time that this account should come to light," continued the Professor, gaily; "for I confess to your Highness that the phantom pursued me day and night. This is a valuable confirmation that I am on the right path."
"Yes," cried the Princess, "I am convinced we shall find the treasure. If I could but help you a little. If it could be obtained by magic, I would gladly put on my magic girdle and call upon Lady Hecate. Unfortunately this mode of calling spirits to one's aid is out of date, and it is difficult to learn the secret art by which learned gentlemen unearth their treasures."
"I also am now little better than a wretched exorcist," answered the Professor. "It would be a bad recommendation for me if your Highness were to judge of my work by what I have achieved here in stirring up the old dust. One is delighted and disappointed, like a child. It is fortunate that fate does not often tease us book-writers with such tricks; what we do for the benefit of others does not depend upon accidental discoveries."
"I can form an idea of the seriousness of the work which I do not see," exclaimed the Princess. "Your kindness has opened at least an aperture through which I can look into the workshop of creative minds. I can understand that the labor of learned men must have an irresistible attraction for those who belong to that silent community. I envy the women whose happiness it is to live their whole lives within the sphere of such occupations."
"We are bold conquerors at the writing-table," answered the Professor; "but the incongruity between our inward freedom and outward helplessness is often felt by the conqueror and those about him. They who really pass their lives with us may easily fathom us, and can with difficulty bear our one-sidedness. For, your Highness, learned men themselves are like the books they write. In general we are badly prepared for the whirl of business, and sometimes helpless in the manifold activity of our time. We are true friends to men in those hours in which they seek new strength for the struggle of life, but in the struggle itself we are generally unskilful assistants."
"Are you thinking of yourself in speaking thus?" asked the Princess, quickly.
"I had in my mind a picture of the combined traits of many of my fellow-workers, but if your Highness inquires, about myself, I also am in this respect a regular man of learning. For I have often had opportunity of remarking how imperfect is my judgment on all questions in which my learning or my moral feeling do not give me assurance."
"I do not like that, Mr. Werner," cried the Princess, leaning gravely back in her arm-chair. "My fancy took its highest flight; I sat as sovereign of the world, prepared to make my people happy, and I made you my minister of state."