So, when we reached the elm avenue, we parted with a brief good-evening. The Canoness turned toward the farm-buildings, and I went to my room.
Fräulein Luise did not appear in the dining-room at tea-time. Cousin Kasimir had ridden off long before, and a strange, oppressive atmosphere of irritation brooded over the rest of the party. I had already heard that the baron had had a long, violent conversation with the Canoness in her own room, but, contrary to the custom of the house, whose walls had a thousand ears, nothing was known of its purport. The baron's eyes were blood-shot and the lid of the left one twitched nervously. He had invited the steward to tea and talked to him with forced gayety about agricultural affairs. The old baroness gazed into her plate with an even more sorrowful and timid expression than usual, the children frolicked with each other, Fräulein Leopoldine endeavored to put on an arrogant air, while Achatz chattered to her with boyish impetuosity. Mademoiselle Suzon alone seemed to be in good humor, and ate a large quantity of bread and butter, while making tireless efforts to maintain a conversation with me, which I with equal persistency continually dropped.
When I at last went up to my tower-chamber and saw Fräulein Luise's well-shaped, though not unusually small, shoes standing outside of her room, I was obliged to put the strongest constraint upon myself to avoid knocking at the door and begging the alms of a few soothing words. It would have been very indecorous and worse--utterly useless. So, with a sigh, I renounced the wish, and resolved to speak to her so touchingly through my church-music on the morrow that the closed door must at last open of its own accord.
I had never passed so sleepless a night, and on the next morning felt so wearied that I feared the keys of the organ would refuse to obey me. But the old pastor's sermon strengthened me wonderfully, and his words fell like, soothing oil upon the burning wounds in my heart. Now, I thought, she is sitting beneath you with her old friend, the comfort of God's word is coming to her also, and the balm of music must do what more is needed to make her soul bright and joyous again.
I began to play the best melodies I knew, and I believe that never in my life have I had a higher and more sacred musical inspiration. So completely did I forget myself in it, that I started in alarm when the schoolmaster at last touched me lightly on the shoulder, and whispered that I had been playing a full hour, and, exquisite as was the performance, the dignitaries below were showing signs of impatience, and the congregation wanted to go home.
As if roused from some dream of Paradise, I broke off with a brief passage and hurried down the stairs. My eyes searched the ranks of church-goers thronging out of the edifice. I saw Mother Lieschen, but she was standing quite alone in her dark corner, and I could nowhere find the face I sought.
Perhaps she had shunned the gloomy church and preferred to remain outside in the graveyard, now fragrant with monthly roses and mignonette, hearing my music through the half-open door. At any rate I should see her at dinner.
When we assembled in the dining-room and she was even later than usual, I heard the baron say, turning to his wife: "She grows worse and worse every day; this irregularity must be stopped--" and my heart beat so violently that it seemed as though it would leap into my mouth. I asked Uncle Joachim, under my breath, how the young lady was, and whether she would not come to dinner. He shrugged his shoulders without moving a muscle, yet I saw that even his appetite had deserted him.
Just as the roast was served, and the baron was preparing to carve it, one of the footmen handed him a note on a silver salver. It had just been left by old Mother Lieschen.