Withered Leaves: A Novel. Vol. 3 (of 3)

by Rudolf von Gottschall

Owing to the fire and its mysterious cause, Kulmitten had fallen into still worse repute amongst the proprietors and their wives in the neighbourhood.

"There, we have it," said Frau Baronin Fuchs, to her husband, "gorgeous fireworks for their wedding! It is lucky that the dead cannot speak; that poor burned child who was drawn out of the flames, and probably set the place on fire, doubtlessly omitted to protest, in time, against the banns, and thus, in her fashion, made up for it on the wedding day. Of course she was a forsaken lover! The one loses her life in water the other in fire! Who knows which elements, those who remain may select, for naturally they have not come to an end yet. There was so much love-making in that community that it would be a school for a whole life-time!"

But not only to her husband, everywhere on the neighbouring estates, wherever her dapple-greys carried the clear-sighted Frau Baronin of firm morals, she uttered, with triumphant eloquence, her unpleasing belief in the just punishment that had befallen this knight of the rueful countenance. Outlaw and excommunication rested once again upon the master of those estates, and many crossed themselves when they spoke of the fire at Kulmitten Castle, of the ruins of the old nest of the Order, as the happy possessors of brand-new knightly castles contemptuously termed it, and of the Signora, who, out of the depths of the theatre, had risen to such a height, and whose family in the Apennines probably drove mules, or were even related to Fra Diavolo and other bandits of noble descent.

One day a young married couple were announced, Dr. Sperner and his wife. The principals of the school from the provincial capital, were making a tour of visits to the parents of their pupils, and hoping thus to obtain new ones. Dr. Sperner's moustache was a sign-board that did its duty. He still possessed the key to the mothers' hearts although it was now discreetly hidden by him in the key-basket of conjugal bliss. Lori had married soon after Blanden, whose conquest she had certainly only contemplated in daring dreams, was irretrievably lost. On that evening, in the theatre, on which the Doctor had distinguished himself by the active part he had taken in punishing the immoral prima donna, he had quite won Lori's heart; the schoolmistress' pride melted like snow in March, nothing remained but the little girl, who gladly gave herself into the strong man's keeping. There was an end of the commanding and dictating Fräulein. Lori stepped down from the lofty pedestal, upon which she had placed herself with such dignity, and acknowledged her master in him, who, shortly before, had declared himself to be her white slave. Now the plantation belonged to them both, and the world maintained that it was Lori who had become the white slave. Sperner possessed all the qualifications for a despot, and it was in vain that she prepared to defend herself against his vigorous energy with the pin-pricks of her wit. Yet she could still occasionally celebrate tiny triumphs with it when the Doctor, in one or the other of the classes, distinguished a few favourites according to his old bad custom. She was implacable towards these successors of Iduna. She took possession of their copy-books after her husband had already corrected them, and let her red pen run riot through their pages until they resembled a corn field overgrown with poppies. Then their domestic peace was seriously imperilled, and the first-class listening at the door, had the satisfaction of witnessing noisy scenes between the conductors of the establishment. How differently Fräulein Sohle had maintained discipline! Yes, even some lovely eyes peeping through the keyhole pretended to have seen how Dr. Sperner's moustache, the terror and glory of the school, played a suffering part in these disputes. At last, however, the Doctor gained his point, Lori was merely, by courtesy, the principal of the school.

Although this couple's last kindly relation to Giulia had consisted in the homage which they paid to her talent in the theatre by hissing and whistling, it did not, in the least, prevent them paying a friendly visit to Herr and Frau von Blanden. Times change, and besides, in those days, they were a portion of the public, the most irresponsible creature that the world contains, because the individual disappears within it like a wave in the ocean, which none can make permanently stationary?

Lori was most agreeable; she could not sufficiently regret that Frau von Blanden had said farewell to the stage. Since her retirement there had been a total lack of all real interest, and nothing was heard but commonplace ballad-singing for salaries and wages, without any of the divine spark.

Sperner, too, kissed the lady's hand with the very lips which had given the signal whistle in the pit, and looked up at her with such true-hearted eyes that she could not but believe in his genuineness. He was one of those honest men whose frank manner, whose warm impulsive speeches inspire confidence at once, one of those men, with open hearts and open shirt collars, whose genuineness, as Kuhl said, is nothing but studied hypocrisy, while behind the mask of their honesty lurks the vilest deception.

Blanden led his guests round the Castle and into the apartments of the old stronghold, which Lori surveyed with peculiar ill-nature. They ascended the tower, which had been temporarily restored. Yet the view over the wide woods to the limits of the estate, fading into the sky on the horizon, awoke a disagreeable emotion in Frau Sperner. She thought of her home, of the gravel walk, of the narrow cells in which she housed those entrusted to her care--how small, how miserable compared with such a magnificent possession; she thought of Dr. Sperner, who brought nothing to the union but his moustache, a box of clothes, another of books, and an undeniable talent as a dictatorial teacher in the school and conjugal lord, and a heavy shadow overclouded her life. Blanden stood transfigured before her like a being of a higher order. Giulia had remained behind in the chapel with the Doctor. Lori looked at Blanden with an expression, in which lay the pain of deceived affection, combined with one of sad resignation. But Blanden said, smilingly--

"You will surely call me to your assistance against the bold tutor, who took so much upon himself! Verily he has set a crown upon his boldness now, robbed you of heart and name, trodden Fräulein Baute's door plate in the dust, and upon the long suffering metal written the name of the wild man who was so dreadful. Can I help you, my Fräulein? Shall I call him out? I am ready as ever for knightly duty!"

"Laugh away, a knight may be needed at all times, and a man who is a savage does not at once become tame in marriage. Herr von Blanden, we may call ourselves teachers, but nevertheless we always remain pupils in life."