After the walk the Prince, following the example of Louis XIV, fed and caressed his numerous dogs. If her father was in an unusually good humor, Isabella received permission to pat the dogs, a thing she hated to do. Afterward Fräulein von Martigny never failed to remind her that as Cousin Frederick owned even a larger number of dogs, as Countess Vierstein she would never be able to get away from dog-atmosphere.
The best comfort of the unfortunate, provided they can sleep, is night. The Princess had a magnificent canopy-bed, with the softest of pillows and the finest silken covers. When a child lies comfortably in its little bed, it is often said to be lying there “like a princess.” The saying did not originate with Princess Isabella, for she felt no comfort even in bed. She wished to sleep in the dark, but it was considered proper for her to have a Dutch night-lamp burning in her own bedroom, and a German lamp in the one adjoining, where her maid slept. And from the 15th of October to the 15th of April open fires were kept burning throughout the night in both rooms; such were the palace regulations. So the poor Princess often lay awake, counting the strokes of the big castle clock and of all the other numerous clocks in the rooms, following one another “like clockwork.” Her whole young life seemed to her like one long sleepless night.
It was in the month of May. The nights were now growing shorter, fortunately; but Isabella was still awake at one o’clock, staring about her with wide-open eyes. She noticed a small red book on the window-sill, an unusual sight in these rooms, where nothing was ever left lying about. What kind of a book could it be? All the books in the castle were bound in blue. She slipped out of bed to look at it.
The red cover was in bad taste and overdecorated; the leaves were gilt-edged, but the paper was bad, like blotting paper, and the print was poor and blurred. The title was: “Notable description and history of the princely Castle of Neideck, brought to light by Philip Balzer, schoolmaster and student of the history of his fatherland.”
The Princess went to bed again, and, by the light of her very good Dutch night-lamp, began to read this little book. Scarcely had she finished the few pages which treated of the origin and twenty-five meanings of the name “Neideck,” when she began to feel drowsy, and when she reached page ten she fell asleep, and slept soundly until late in the morning.
After this she decided to read a little of the book every evening; she also inquired as to whom it belonged and how it came to be in her room.
VI
In due time Burg Balzer finished his “history,” and even got it printed, a harder task than the writing. There was only one printing office in the principality, and this belonged to the court bookbinder Zöllner in Westerau. Zöllner, owner also of a toy store and circulating library, printed every year the “Court, State, and House Almanac of Westerau,” and this was the extent of his printing venture; he could never be induced to risk any other literary undertaking. Philip had foreseen that, and offered to cover all necessary expenses with the contents of his savings-box. The castle fund, which had been collecting for twelve years, amounted now to exactly two florins and eighteen kreutzers.[1] But Herr Zöllner was not satisfied. Philip, though surprised that books could cost so much, did not lose courage. He, knowing that peasants pay their rent partly in money and produce the rest in manual labor and labor of their teams, proposed to the bookbinder to pay him by the same method, to write out bills and dunning letters, line school copybooks, and perform other tasks, until all expenses had been paid. The bookbinder agreed, and Balzer, with a heavy sigh, became his publisher’s drudge, as also more famous authors have been. Piles of the bookbinder’s work were carried to Neideck every Saturday, but the pile of Philip’s own book in Westerau remained untouched. Philip bore his burden heroically; he was slaving for his castle, that was enough for Philip. He had not neglected, however, to present some elegantly bound copies to the ruling princes of his own and adjoining lands. At first he expected a few gold snuff-boxes in return, then, at least, some kind acknowledgment by letter; but nothing came.
The Prince of Westerau had given the book to his valet, because it had come uncalled for and not in proper form; all gifts from his subjects, as long as they were of no special value, went the same way.
The valet found the book so uninteresting that he passed it on to Isabella’s maid. The girl, feeling life at court even more tedious than this book, first read a little in it, then forgot it, leaving it in the Princess’s room, where, during a sleepless night, as we have seen, it fell at last into the right hands.