Hoffmann.--Not at all. Freisleben is about to tell the story of an unfortunate student. I fancy you would take an interest in it too.
Mr. Traveller.--I am all ear.
STORY OF KRUSENSTERN AND AVENSLEBEN.
Freisleben.--Krusenstern, whose pale and wasted figure you now see passing silently about, was not always so. Once he was one of the handsomest students that the walls of Ruperto-Carolo ever enclosed. Every endowment that honours man, adorned him; that, even his envier must admit Nature had richly crowned him with her gifts; and the education he, sprung from one of the richest mercantile families of the city of N----, enjoyed, had brought those gifts to their highest perfection; but he had one shadow-side, and this was his choleric temperament; a failing sufficient to plunge him into ruin. Similar studies, similar sentiments united him in a strong bond of friendship with Von Avensleben, the only son of a house of ancient nobility. It was now in the year before his examination that he first saw and became acquainted with the sister of his friend; a most amiable lady, who then resided some time with her parents in the city of Heidelberg. His manly nature, free from all rudeness; his attractive demeanour, which a fine feeling of propriety pervaded; and his finished education, won him the heart of the damsel, and he testified to me that he had found in her that ideal which he had before continually sought in vain. I had the happiness to know the amiable family of the young lady, and recall with a melancholy joy the time which I spent amongst these good, and then so happy, people.
The widow Von Avensleben was as much distinguished for her high accomplishment as for her most unassuming disposition. She was well acquainted with the master works of German and foreign literature; and her knowledge of the world, and her nice tact, gave to her conversation a peculiar charm. She embraced her children in her innermost heart, her constant care was to smooth out every slightest trace of discord between them; and if she had a failing, it was her too great indulgence of them.
Amalia was the eldest daughter. She might be compared to one of those noble metals, which, because not vainly glittering on the surface, escape the eyes of ordinary men: but the noble ore conceals not its peculiar qualities from the knowing eye, which the more he observes, the more beautifully they discover themselves, and satisfy him that the pure metal requires no further refinement. In personal beauty inferior to her sister, the maiden had earlier advanced to a reflection upon herself and others, and her clear understanding enabled her to arrive at noble and free views of the true worth of outward things, and of her own mind. Thus she had early demonstrated that she was capable of the greatest sacrifices for her friends--for her friends, who were chosen after mature consideration, and in which choice womanly sagacity and fine feeling were her guides. Her youthful timidity gave place, as she first became conscious of her worth, to a noble assurance. She judged others with indulgence, but hesitated not to speak out what was an acknowledged truth, even when that truth was not flattering to another. Thus showed she herself constantly as a noble and true soul, which one must continue to love more and more.
The little Maria was not so circumspect as her sister. As a lovely butterfly, she fluttered from flower to flower, extracting from each the best honey. Her vivacity led her to embrace whatever was good and beautiful with heartiness; but exactly because every thing is not good and beautiful, was indispensable to her a change of the flowers from which she drew nourishment. She knew how to show herself friendly and full of kindness to all who felt themselves compelled to pay to her the tribute of her love-worthiness, without tyrannically abusing her magic wand. But, when she sometimes saw that the lovely and brilliant side of a thing had too much biassed her frequently too predominant feeling; when she found herself deceived in and discontented with what she had, in her too enthusiastic fancy, taken up, would she painfully lament over the dark side of life. Certainly, every one who had once seen the little elegant being, as she charmingly and sweetly moved in society; every one who had glanced on her fine and noble features, and into her speaking eyes, must have loved her; and when she, moreover, sung with the clear metal of her voice, one of the beautiful songs which my friend accompanied on the piano, every one was enchanted.
Thus were they happy people; and the rapidly approaching completion of his university life, his rare acquirements, and the protection of men high in the government, gave my friend the promise of a near and a yet happier future. Ah! who could have thought that the peace of this happy family should be so horribly destroyed; that this lovely bond should have been so cruelly rent asunder! An inconsiderate action of the young Von Avensleben converted this paradise into a hell.
He had accidentally received intelligence of a serenade which Krusenstern proposed to give to his loved one. This excited him to an ill-considered joke. As his friend glided near to the house with the nocturnal music, and standing near in the shade of another house, delighted himself with the imagination of the joy that his attention would give to Maria, Avensleben showed himself at the window, clad in a woman's night-dress, and threw a hand-kiss to Krusenstern. The wrath of Krusenstern at this foolish exposure of his lady to the ridicule of the musicians was furious, and a challenge to a duel with pistols was the consequence. No representations were able to bring him from this terrible resolve; and a journey which the family of Von Avensleben made, in order to spend a few days on a neighbouring estate of theirs, afforded the sundered friends an opportunity to compass their unhappy intention.
They drew in the early morning to the appointed place. Krusenstern with his seconds was first there--a spot well known to travellers by the name of the Engelswiese, or Angel's Meadow, lying up in the woods above the Neckar, on the opposite side to the city, and showing its pleasant green area belted in by the forest, to wanderers about the castle, though invisible to the valley below. He walked in silence to and fro, and gazed down upon the city, which lay gloriously illuminated by the morning sun. He could even distinguish the house where he had enjoyed the purest and deepest pleasures; he thought over the happy past; and anxious forebodings of a dark and perdition-blasted future rose up before him. The curtain was only too soon to be drawn aside, which his eyes were not yet permitted to penetrate. His antagonist appeared on the ground; the old resentment drove out every softer emotion; the seconds measured out the distance, the pistols were loaded, the word given--Von Krusenstern shot--but it became night before his eyes, as in the same moment he saw his antagonist spring on high, and then fall to the ground. He had received his death-wound.