"Happiness," said the old man, "what is it men call thus? and of what avail would their dreams be then, if it were to be met with in reality. I soon saw in the beginning, with bitter sorrow, that I was too enthusiastic, that my companions in the same calling, my superiors, did not partake of my burning zeal; disapproved of it indeed, or declared it heresy and false enthusiasm. They were too much occupied about their community, the ensuring of their condition, their influence in the world, and the binding of souls, to have kindled ardour within them, or to have sought that faith in emotions, which was so necessary to my life. Well, somewhat late, I undertook to examine the teachers of my now abandoned church, and discovered that they were not altogether so inimical to Christianity as I had fancied. I thought that I perceived more and more distinctly that many roads lead to the Lord, and that he, as he himself has promised, has prepared many dwellings in his house. What the innovators, who have split asunder the church, desire, many of the apostles and earlier teachers have already wished. I hope, this disunion will just preserve the eternity of the Word. I also perceived, that to form a spiritual state, to represent a great community, a great deal by far of that enthusiasm of solitude must be checked, if it were only to preserve the constitution pure, the strength which alone renders possible that innate spirit of love for the present as well as for the future, and prepares for it an asylum. It was granted to my desire to live here in a small commune, retired from the whole world, almost like a hermit and thus to suffice for myself. I honour the body of our church, and am not angry with it, because it has no spirit; I forgive it the letter, if sometimes it appears to annihilate the spirit, because I trust in the wisdom and love of the Almighty, who thus accomplishes all to his ends."
Thus they separated, Edmond could not sleep. How agitatingly did all this old man's words work upon him, whom he had so unexpectedly met of whom his father had so often spoken to him in his childhood. He felt troubled, and prayed fervently, that at length this rebellion, which he had been sent forth to excite, might not rage in this valley over the venerable head of this peaceful hermit. But he indeed knew best how impossible this was, how inevitable must be the dreadful event. In short slumbers, fearful dreams tormented him, and with the dawn of morning, he hastened over the mountain to Lacoste to send him off to Roland and Cavalier.
CHAPTER IX.
In the mean while Martin's wound, through the watchful care of his doctor, had astonishingly improved. Eveline had soon become familiarised with him, and the young man seemed even more than the father to doat on her. He exerted himself with humble devotedness to perform every little service, and was only happy when he was able to win a smile from the Lord of Beauvais. When the father now returned from the fields with his daughter, the latter said to him: "Is it not true, papa, that when I am grown up, I too shall be obliged to marry."
"Probably," answered the Lord of Beauvais, "Well then," continued she, "give me the young handsome Martin for a husband." "Does he then please thee so very much?" asked the father.
"Not merely on that account," said Eveline, "but because I should like to make a good marriage, and such, as I have heard, one does not frequently meet with. But with our Martin I should be perfectly happy, and he behaves himself already quite as if he were your son. And I, when I say to him, Martin! sit thee down here by me! Get up again! Fetch that flower there for me! Now tell me something! or, Go away, I should now like to be alone awhile! thus he does everything so exactly at a signal, as I have never before seen. Neither Martha nor Joseph, and least of all the old obstinate Frantz, that was eternally scolding, would thus have obeyed me at a word; with such a smart, well-dressed, sensible husband, the thing might turn out worse, and therefore I will choose Martin, if you will allow me." "But he is only a servant," said the Counsellor. "You have said yourself," prattled the child, "that there was something in his appearance more than ordinary. He is certainly the son of respectable people; through the rebellion we too have fallen into misery, and it may be worse with us yet, one must therefore look about by times for help."
"And if he will not have you?"
"I have already asked him this morning, then he laughed out quite loud, what I had never seen him do before, but afterwards he became quite grave again, sighed, and kissed me on the forehead. That I think is quite answer enough."
In the little garden under the trellaced bower, they found Godfred and the tall Dubois sitting at the oaken table; the wife was busy in the kitchen. They sat down by them both; the musician was at that moment in the midst of a lively performance. "Do you hear, gossip," cried he, "the sound when I press and keep it down, do you know what that means?"
"Yes," said Godfrey, "it is pretty enough." "Well, attend," said Dubois, "how I now pass over and strike the quaver, which afterwards quivers in the deep tones, and how in the mean while my hand works here in the bass. You now understand this many-voiced composition? Listen! see, that is what I call fundamental composition."