Villa Eden Part 220

The next day, Eric went back to Villa Eden, and announced to Manna and his mother his own intention of removing to Mattenheim.

A strange conflict ensued in Manna's breast; but, as she made no allusion to it, Eric thought it right to respect her reserve.

The Major, to whom Eric confided his plan, complained that he, too, had got to build himself a new nest in his old age; for his brother, the Grand-master, whose wife had died, had become engaged, and was to be married again in the spring. Now, Fraulein Milch had no mind to be tolerated, and patronized by a young wife; and when his Masonic brother, the Grand-master, had informed them that he should wish to reserve one of the rooms which the Major had formerly occupied, for a guest-chamber, Fraulein Milch had behaved in a most independent manner.

She thanked him, but declared her fixed determination to leave the house.

They had never had a quarrel before.

But when the Major perceived how sorrowfully Fraulein Milch repented her obstinate determination, he scolded himself for being too meek and yielding, and thanked the Fraulein for preserving her dignity as he ought to have done himself, but which he was so apt to lose sight of.

He proposed to Fraulein Milch the plan of removing to the castle, where there were fine rooms all in readiness, and where it must be very pleasant to live; but Fraulein Milch would hear nothing about living in a knightly castle. She set forth to the Major the bother it would entail: with the butcher, the baker, the grocer, the milkmaid, with all the various trades and callings, did she persecute the Major, until he was sore dismayed.

"We will say no more about it," he cried, "but pray don't let me forget to ask Captain Dournay how the old knights used to live."

Upon Eric's arrival, this had been the Major's opening question, and then, for the first time, he made known his own difficulty.

Eric did not regret it; for he hoped, that, in the spring, the Major would remove to the green cottage, while his mother would live with Manna at the Villa.

The Major laughed. "Did you ever hear," said he, "the story of the man who was a suitor forty years? Courting-time is very fine, I tell you; but even ten years is too long. And now away with you! There is something for you to learn yet. But don't tell a soul about that stale old suitor, will you? On your honor? He, too, was once young."

On the eve of his departure, when he and Manna were alone, Eric said,--

"Manna, we have no betrothal time. Our hearts are torn by sorrow and separation, we must comfort one another."

"And might I know why you, too, forsake me?"

"I shall be much with you and my mother; but I must be alone also. Just think, I have to become a new man, to change my scholarly vocation for some other, I know not what; but whether I am near you, or not, whether I hold your hand, and look into your eyes, or am far away, be sure that you are the inmost life of my heart: I bear you about with me like a blessed faith."

As Eric continued in this strain, a new and delightful understanding was established between the two, and Manna embraced him, saying,--

"I will not shed a tear to-morrow when you leave; and I will follow you in all your wanderings with trustful eyes. I know that I am with you and in you, as you are with me and in me. It seems inconceivable to me that I never knew you before that spring day. I cannot think what the world was like before I knew you; for I cannot imagine the world without you."

When Eric left for Mattenheim, the next day, he kissed his betrothed for the first time before his mother; and, after he had mounted his horse. Manna said to him,--

"I am glad you are going; and I will stay quietly with your mother, and be perfectly content. Thank you for letting me be a child once more before I become your wife. Ah! I had no childhood; but forgive me. I will never cease to be grateful for what has come to me, and I will not mingle sorrow with it all. And I promise that you shall have in me a strong and trustworthy wife."

So Eric departed.

Adams went with him. He, too, was to learn husbandry at Mattenheim.

The ladies were now alone with Professor Einsiedel and the Major, who was more at the Villa than ever.

The Villa itself, however, was silent and deserted; for they all lived at the green cottage. Many of the servants were dismissed, and the gardeners only were kept at the Villa.

CHAPTER IX.

UPON NEW SOIL.

A cheerful life they led at Mattenheim. The day began and ended early.

There was no trespa.s.sing upon the night. All were incessantly occupied, and even Adams could not hold aloof.

Weidmann had arranged matters very methodically.

Adams received no orders; but they allowed him to see that every one about him was busy, and, in the end, he could not choose but follow their example. He became ashamed of his idleness; and the servant who had once been a criminal must now teach him to plough and sow. He was even eager to thresh; but this was exceedingly difficult for him, because he could not keep time. He liked best to work in the mill; and it was a droll sight to see the stalwart negro pa.s.s and repa.s.s, powdered with meal. He also applied himself zealously to his books, in the evening, with Knopf for a teacher.

Of all the dwellers at Mattenheim, Knopf was the happiest. What more could he desire? He had Weidmann whom he revered, Eric whom he held in high esteem, Roland whom he loved enthusiastically, and a prince and a slave to instruct; for Prince Valerian had to submit to being taught at Adams's side; and, while Adams toiled at his writing-book, the Prince pursued his studies in history and mathematics; and it was often amusing to hear Knopf say, when giving a lesson in the history of literature, "Observe, my dear young lady," for hitherto his pupils in this department had been mostly girls.

During the day-time, they were employed, whatever the weather, in the open air. Surveys were undertaken, especially of the recently purchased domain; and many a good hunt came off, in which Roland distinguished himself by his great expertness.

Roland was pa.s.sed, so to speak, from hand to hand; for each of Weidmann's sons took possession of him for hours or days at a time, and found a peculiar pleasure in affording the youth all possible a.s.sistance. Roland gained an insight into many different processes of manufacture; but his curiosity was also awakened in quite another direction.

In the cement-manufactory all was so still, that Roland asked the Inspector, Fa.s.sbender's eldest son, whether the workmen were not allowed to speak.

"They prefer not to," was the answer; "for talking distracts their attention, and, as they work by the job, it would hinder them very much."

Roland looked confounded. These men imposed silence upon themselves for the sake of earning their bread!

The noon-bell rang. He saw young men and girls of his own age come out of the manufactory: some of the girls were knitting as they walked; and the question arose within him, In what respect do you and your sister differ from these, and why?

On Sat.u.r.day evening, Roland stood by while the workmen were paid off.

They were gathered in groups before the house. Some had washed themselves, and others were still covered with dust. The little sliding window in the counting-room was opened, and Roland stood near the Inspector, as the latter opened a drawer in which lay various packages of money, and read aloud the list of the workmen's names. He watched their hard hands as they took up the money from the shelf, or swept it with the right hand into the left.

When they were all paid off, he went out and mingled with the people.

There were soldierly fellows among them: some were young, and some old; and all carried sticks with sharp ferrules, and were chaffering with a baker-woman for loaves of bread, which they wrapped in cloths, and carried away under their arms. One called to another to bear him company in his walk; and they dispersed up and down the mountain.

Is it really the lot of human beings to live so? How old are these men?

Where are their homes?

Roland gazed thoughtfully after them.

Is there any help for such things? or is there none?

"What are you thinking about?" asked the Inspector.

"I am wondering why these tired men should have so far to go."

"It is good for them. It is what keeps them well. The worst feature of their lot is being pent up in a confined s.p.a.ce."

Roland was silent; but countless questionings arose within him. He could not cope with them; and no one else, however well disposed, could solve them for him. He did not regain perfect composure except after an interview with Weidmann.

Weidmann possessed a firm and unvarying equipoise of character, before which the stormy agitation of other souls subsided. He had dignity without severity. He was not so vivacious and stimulating as Eric; but he preserved a steady and quiet moderation in all things. He took note of a blunder, a disaster, whether in public or private affairs, with manly calmness; never allowing himself to be bewildered or disheartened thereby.

Eric had caused his pupil to see things through a polished and many-sided prism, which seemed to remove objects from their true position, and make them appear higher or lower than they really were.