Only a Girl: or, A Physician for the Soul.

by Wilhelmine von Hillern

"That is his monkey-faced sister," thought the countess, and nodded in very wantonness. The face vanished in alarm. Herbert did not appear. And she galloped on through the silent streets. It was wearisome riding thus upon stony pavements, with a sleeping public all around, her only spectators the servants and peasants carrying milk and bread, and staring open-mouthed at the haughty horsewoman. Now and then a student in his shirt-sleeves, brush or sponge in hand, would appear at a window, and one poured out the contents of his washbasin upon her dogs, who had fallen fiercely upon an innocent little cur that was just taking his morning stroll. It was the only incident that varied the monotony of her ride, and she passed swiftly on towards the Bergstrasse, as the servant had prophesied.

At last she reached it, and the glorious view of the distant mountains lay before her. The rough pavement came to an end, for here the pleasure-grounds of the town were laid out, and the roads were strewn with fine gravel. She now gave her steed the rein, and the fiery beast flew along, ventre à terre, with the pack after him in full cry. The houses were all surrounded by charming gardens. There was one which for a long time riveted the attention of the countess. Look! there was an open window, and at it stood Möllner, gazing out upon the far-off mountains.

Just as the countess passed, he observed her, and answered her gesture of recognition by a respectful bow.

He looked after her, well pleased as he marked the finely-knit figure, with a seat in the saddle so light and graceful that she seemed part of her horse. She turned her head and saw him looking after her, and in her pleasure at the sight she reined in Ali until he reared erect in the air and curveted proudly. Then on she galloped, and was soon lost to sight. She had reached the foot of the mountains, and, allowing her panting steed to ascend a little hill more slowly, she paused to rest him on the summit.

Before her lay a golden, sunny world. It was an enchanting morning. Thin, vapoury smoke was beginning to rise from the chimneys, and the heavens were so cloudless that it ascended straight into the blue arch without being pressed down to the earth again.

Over the tops of the pine-trees that crowned the brows of the mountains, little white feathery clouds were still hovering. It seemed as if those mighty heads would fain shake them off, for they soared aloft and then settled again, then shifted from place to place, hiding sometimes in the forest, until at last they vanished before the increasing power of the sun's rays, and the dark, jagged outline of the mountains stood out clear and free against the blue sky. Who, with a heart in his breast, beholding and enjoying all this beauty and glory, does not involuntarily look above in gratitude to the unseen Giver and mourn over his own unworthiness of such bounty? And how many eyes look on it all without understanding it or rejoicing in it! Does it not seem that on such a morning the most degraded soul would gladly purify itself, as the bird dresses his feathers at sunrise before he lifts his wings to soar aloft into the glorious ether?

And yet the gloomy fire of the previous night still smouldered on in the countess's breast, and no cool breeze, no pearly dew, availed to quench its unhallowed glow. Her heart was desecrated,--the abode of the demons of low desire and hate. It could no longer soar to higher spheres. The beautiful woman gazed upon the landscape without one feeling of its beauty. She was far more interested in compelling the obedience of her impatient steed than in the grand prospect before her. In the gilded saloons of St. Petersburg she had lost all comprehension and love of nature, and she was so accustomed to consider herself a divinity that she was no longer conscious of the humility of the creature before its Creator. Although she might not deny Him, she was indifferent to Him, and if she sometimes visited His temple, she did it only as one pays a formal visit to an equal.

Thus she stood there upon the hill, inhaling the fresh, fragrant air with a certain satisfaction, but with no more interest in the lovely scene than was felt by her dogs, who judged of the beauty of the landscape chiefly by their sense of smell, as, lying on the ground around their mistress, they too snuffed the morning breeze. Now and then one was led astray by the scent of game in the thicket; but a call from the silver whistle of his mistress reminded him of his duty, and he returned to his companions,--only casting longing looks in the direction in which his prey had escaped him. Had his haughty mistress ever in her life practised such self-denial? Could she have seriously answered this question, she might have blushed before the unreasoning brute.

* * * * *

It was ten o'clock when Ernestine stepped out upon her balcony. Gaily-dressed peasants were passing, pipe in mouth, along the road outside her garden-wall, for to-day was the Ascension of the Blessed Virgin,--a glorious opportunity for drinking to her honour and glory. The people were in their gayest humour, their morning libations had already had some effect. The peasant seems to know no better way of giving God glory than by enjoying His gifts; he believes that he thus affords Him the same pleasure that a good host feels in seeing the guests at his table enjoy what is placed before them.