Since this was impossible, I resolved to try to obtain some explanation of this disaster which, as the principal person shut herself up from me, I could only hope to do through Uncle Joachim. Unhappily I found his cell closed--he had ridden across the country on some business connected with the sale of a peat-digging. I wandered in the deepest ill-humor through the park. At last it occurred to me that Mother Lieschen, with whom the Canoness was in the habit of talking about so many things, might be familiar with this accursed Berlin story, and I turned into the path leading to her lonely hut.
But just as I caught a glimpse of the straw roof I perceived that I was too late. The old dame was just coming out of the door, and by her side walked Fräulein Luise herself, whom I had supposed imprisoned in her tower-room. They were talking eagerly together, Mother Lieschen had tied her kerchief over her head and seemed about to set out for a walk, for she took from the bench the staff with which she supported her steps, and held out her hand to the young lady. Then they parted, and, while the old dame hobbled along the edge of the wood, which was the shortest way to the village, Fräulein Luise came directly toward me to return to the castle.
She did not see me until within the distance of twenty paces, then she stopped a moment, but without the slightest change of expression. No one, who did not know what had happened an hour before, could have suspected it from her face.
"Good-evening, Herr Johannes," she said in her calmest voice (she had called me so for some time because the "Candidate" seemed too formal, and she thought the name of Weissbrod ugly), "I am glad to see you. I have a favor to ask."
I bowed silently. My heart was too full not to pour forth all its feelings if a single word overflowed, which I did not think seemly.
"Our old pastor will preach again to-morrow," she continued, walking quietly on by my side. "You might do me a real favor if, after the close of the service, you would give a beautiful long organ concert in your very best style, like the first one we heard from you. I have a reason for making the request, which I can not tell you to-day. Will you do me this service, dear Herr Johannes?"
Dear Herr Johannes! It was the first time she ever gave me that title. No matter how many unutterable things I had cherished in my heart against her, such an address would have won me to render the hardest service.
"How can you doubt it!" I answered quickly. "I understand only too well that you need the consoling power of music. Oh, Fräulein Luise, when I think how it affected me, a mere silent spectator, and how you must feel--"
"No," she interrupted, "it is not as you suppose, but no matter; it is important to me for you to play both very well and very long. I will thank you for it in advance--" she gave me her hand, but without pausing in her walk--"and also for every other kindness you have showed me in your earnest, faithful way. Promise that you will always remain the same, and never, even in thought, agree with other people's silly gossip about me."
I silently pressed her hand. A hundred questions were on my tongue, but I could not summon courage to ask even one. She, too, sank into a silence as unbroken as though she had forgotten that she had a companion.