Villa Eden Part 83

"The human race affords the most abundant material for conversation, and of that race the most inexhaustible matter is furnished by the variety woman. I am not meaning now to speak of Bella, but of myself. I have discovered in this woman an entirely new variety."

"With your permission, honored Herr Doctor, the Countess seems to be in perfect health."

"Did you never know Frau Bella before?"

"But slightly," said Eric reluctantly.

"I, however, knew her well. She made a marriage of convenience, as many others have done, and I think none the worse of her for it. My opinion on such matters differs from that of most men. The Countess is modest as far as her talents are concerned, but is proud of her morality. I happen to know that she told the Count before the betrothal, that she was too insignificant for him, was, in fact, not worthy of him. In regard to intellect, her modesty was sincere, though somewhat exaggeratedly expressed. She has talent, but no soul; she is all seasoning, no solid food. But morally this confession was perfectly true; morality with her is only propriety."

"I must beg you--" interposed Eric.

"And I must beg you," broke in the Doctor, "to let me finish my sentence. Her morality I mean is that of the world, which considers only the outward marriage essential, and knows no relation of marriage save a relation of the outward tie. To Count Clodwig, purity and beauty are a law; every sin against them offends his nature; he could not be guilty of the smallest violation of them, even if no mortal eye should detect it."

In the pause which ensued, Eric's heart beat hard. Was the man describing Clodwig's purity, in order to show him how base would be the slightest approach to injuring or betraying such a friend?

The Doctor continued:--

"A man can receive no higher honor than that of being Clodwig's friend.

I do not love the aristocracy; nay, I may even say I hate them; but in this Count Clodwig there is a n.o.bleness which perhaps can only come to perfection through the fostering care of generations, and cannot be fully developed among us commoners, where everything is a fresh conquest smelling of the new varnish, which is always likely to crack away. There is a steady, even temperature about Clodwig, never amounting to a hot blaze, but always a beneficent warmth. You see I have learned from you to make ill.u.s.trations," he said playfully, then continued, more seriously:--

"His one pa.s.sion is for rest, which makes it the more remarkable that he should have sacrificed so much of it for your sake. I do not agree with the wicked world in p.r.o.nouncing Countess Bella to be a very dragon of virtue. On the contrary, she must have every week, or every month at farthest, some fair name to destroy, or, better, some guilty person to use her cat's claws upon; like a well-trained hound, she likes best to attack a poor hare in the eyes; then she is satisfied, perfectly polite and obliging, harming n.o.body, for she is not really cruel and pitiless.

She speaks very kindly of any one so long as he is unfortunate; when people are humbled she readily pardons them; as soon as a man is sick she is most kindly disposed towards him, but as long as he keeps well he need expect nothing but severity from her. She has beautiful and abundant hair, but that does not please her so much as the being able to tell of this woman or that, how many pounds of false hair she wears.

If she can say that any woman is scrofulous, she is quite happy; for she would have only the Prankens perfectly sound. Once let her make an a.s.sertion, and she never retreats from it; better that her husband, Pranken, the whole world, should be illogical, than that she should be mistaken. Bella von Wolfsgarten never allows herself to be mistaken.

She has never worn an unbecoming dress, has never said a word which might not be engraved upon stone. That she calls character; that she calls strength,--never to confess to a mistake. Let the logic of the whole world go to the devil first! She can make the eggs dance nicely in conversation. Did you ever receive one of her dainty little notes?

She can dance even upon paper with the most supple grace."

Eric pa.s.sed his hand across his brow; he no longer knew where he was.

The Doctor threw away a half-smoked cigar, and continued:--

"The wicked world hopes, and, alas! its hopes cannot be fulfilled without stabbing our n.o.ble Clodwig to the heart,--it hopes that this dragon of virtue will one day find its unsaintly George. But that would have to be a man whose ambition is, as we say, to be successful with the women; not one to whom the words love, magnanimity, aspiration, are realities, and who could not use them as a cloak for other ends."

Eric knew not what to answer. He clenched his fist to keep himself still, for he felt himself trembling.

The Doctor pulled a string which brought the drag against the wheel; the wagon went creaking and sc.r.a.ping down the hill; they looked over the precipice, at the bottom of which a little brook was babbling over rocks. Such an abyss had opened before Eric. When they were driving again comfortably through the valley, the Doctor resumed:--

"When I say the wicked world, I am not using merely a figure of speech.

I must explain to you what this new variety is that I have discovered in Frau Bella. It is this. There have been, and there exist still, many women who are, or who imagine themselves to be, no matter which, very unhappy, or consider themselves very unfortunate because they have such inferior husbands,--men who love horses, dogs, and such like, while they themselves are lofty, unappreciated, ethereal souls. This new variety, however, which Frau Bella represents, is different. She is unhappy because of the greatness of her husband. Had she one of those well-trained puppets which are in the world for the purpose of wearing a court-dress, she might be unhappy, but loftily so; she could look upon herself as a fair flower-crowned victim, suffer with patience, bewail her fate, be on a pinnacle in fact, a being ever debarred from the n.o.blest emotions of the heart. But by the side of the husband she has, she grows constantly more odious, more insignificant. He humiliates her by casting her into the shade; nay, more: by condemning her immature ideas only by a raising of his eyebrows. In fact,--she does not, I think, acknowledge it to herself,--she hates her husband for making solemn earnest of her light trifling with intellectual and moral things; he compels her to acknowledge mistakes and follies, and severely enough is he punished for doing so. I understand now the fable of the Harpies. The modern harpies besmear every n.o.ble thought till it becomes unpalatable and nauseous; and thus must Clodwig wrestle and fight for the common daily bread of the spirit. With all this, she is not without n.o.bleness; she likes to help the sick, only is somewhat despotic in recommending her remedies. But do you know what the most dangerous thing about Frau Bella is?"

"Indeed I do not; I cannot imagine what climax you have yet to reach."

"A very simple one. We hear the devil talked about in the churches, but in these days he appears as a very complaisant, very n.o.ble and self-sacrificing demon, who comes to us and says,--Here, you are the friend of this woman; avail yourself of her esteem for you, her confidence in you, to put her in the right frame of mind; you must teach her to appreciate her husband, to honor him as he desires to be honored. This sophistical demon seems to be very subtle, but is really the clumsiest of all; for never did one human being learn to value another, least of all, a wife her husband, through a third person's influence. There is a final impulse of life, and a final impulse of love, which must come from the person himself; and where that does not exist, the tongues of angels would be employed in vain. Have you seen the head of Medusa? The ancients esteemed the victory over Medusa to be the greatest achievement of Theseus; she is poisonous beauty. In ancient times she hardened men to stone, in modern, she softens them into effeminacy. I have a special hatred against this Frau Bella; do you know why? Because she makes a hypocrite of me every time I go to Wolfsgarten. I have no business to be so polite as I am to her; and the fact that I am so, out of regard to Clodwig, is no excuse. No one has such a bad effect upon me as this Frau Bella; she makes a hypocrite of me, and she kindles in me such a pa.s.sion for destruction as I had not thought myself capable of. She is a quack doctress. If I prescribe a medicine, she always knows beforehand what I am going to prescribe.

Medicinally I have pretty much broken down her pretensions, but intellectually she has more than ever. She has family medicines and figures of speech at her tongue's end, as if she had been a deep student, whereas the root of her whole nature is want of reverence, an impertinent meddling with every subject; for everything is a vain show to her mind; she has no respect even for herself, knowing that she is herself nothing but a vain show. One deep-rooted trait in her is ingrat.i.tude. Come what may to her, she will still be ungrateful. If you want to see the exact opposite to Bella, look at the Major, who is grateful for everything, even for the very air he breathes. That old child of a Major is seventy years old, and has not yet lost faith in human goodness. If the devil incarnate were to appear, he would find something good in him; but this Bella is without principle. A man may be evil-minded, and yet have strength and active powers left for the world's service; but an evil-minded woman is wholly evil and only evil.

Do you know who would be a fit mate for Frau Bella?"

"I know nothing about it," cried Eric in despair; he felt as if he must jump out of the wagon.

"The only man who would do for her, the only man capable of subduing and governing this whole menagerie which bears the name of Bella, is Herr Sonnenkamp; in fact, there is a secret sympathy between them."

Eric was glad he could laugh; but the Doctor continued:--

"I am a heretic, my young friend; I believe that woman is an inferior variety in the human race. A man can never be so bad as a woman, can never be so hypocritical. For the latter quality, to be sure, women are not responsible, having been taught from childhood that the world cares only for appearances. But the main defect is, that they have no broad humanity; they, do not go down to the first principles from which all things start; they regard everything as being sewed and colored, in the same way that their hats and mantillas are by the mantuamakers. On the other hand, they stand under the curse of the beasts: they cannot heartily rejoice with another; slander is a peculiar symptom of blood-thirstiness. Throughout all nature, the female is the crudest."

Eric sat still and heard all this talked at him. When they arrived at the place where the Doctor was to get out, the good man puffed out another long breath, and said, his face glowing with his earnestness,--

"Now I, feel better. I have been choking with this for a long while.

Thank you for having listened so patiently. Young friend," he continued, laying his hand kindly on Eric's shoulder, "I am angry with the poets, who, from fear of giving offence to women, have dressed up this clever show-woman. If I have said too much of Frau Bella, as is possible, I yet pray you to keep in mind the truths I have told of her, which I have not exaggerated, and which I am ready any moment to maintain."

Eric took his horse by the bridle, but did not mount; he travelled on, lost in thought. That he should have heard such things against Bella, and should have so poorly defended her, pained him. With a look almost of devotion he gazed upward to the cloudless heaven above him; he would keep himself free from the guilt of palliating his own faults. His heart turned to Roland, and something within him said, I hope from this time to be worthy to educate a human being; for never again shall any criminal trifling with thoughts and feelings have place in me. I was vain; I was pleased at appearing brilliant, at being praised by a handsome woman, at feeling the light touch of her warm glove upon my hand. No such man should dare to say, I will in all purity educate a human being. I hope now I am a man who can.

With a feeling of inward happiness he pursued his way and reached the villa.

A telegram was awaiting him, saying that the family would spend the night in the capital.

Eric was alone.

CHAPTER VI.

A RECEIPT FOR THE FIRST INSTALMENT OF SALARY.

Frau Ceres expressed herself in the morning strongly disinclined to return to the villa. The fete on Rudolph's hill still floated before her fancy, and she wanted to have another just like it to-day. She urged the Cabinetsrathin at least to go back with her to the villa and make her a visit. The invitation was declined, but a visit promised at an early date.

Frau Ceres was so much out of spirits, that to cheer her up Sonnenkamp made Pranken sit in the carriage with her, while he drove with Roland.

When he was alone with his son, he questioned him on all kinds of subjects; he even went so far as to ask him how often Eric visited the Countess Bella, and whether they often took walks alone together.

Roland was perplexed.

On the road they overtook the saddle-horses, which had been sent homewards in advance of the party. The horses were wholly enveloped in coverings, so that only their eyes and feet were visible. Sonnenkamp ordered a halt to be made; the creatures' great eyes were fixed with a singular expression on their master from under their close coverings.

He severely reprimanded one of the grooms, whom he had seen at a distance sitting on one of the horses instead of walking by the animal's side. The next act of disobedience should lose the man his place. As they drove on, Roland made the remark that these horses were better clothed than many men.

Sonnenkamp threw a sidelong glance of surprise at his son, but made no answer.

All at once Roland beckoned to the driver to stop. He had noticed by the road-side the teamster, employed in carting the stone bottles to the mineral-spring, whom he had walked with on that eventful night.

Alighting, Roland held out his hand to the man and requested him to tell the hostler, when he met him, that he was innocent; whereupon he resumed his seat in the carriage, the teamster all the while staring after him, while his father desired him to tell him more about the strange rencontre.

Roland related all he knew, not omitting the legend of the laughing sprite; but the story about this sprite seemed to have no effect upon Sonnenkamp's risibles; and when Roland remarked, that he liked to familiarize himself with the life of poor people battling with abject misery, Sonnenkamp whistled the inaudible tune to himself. At the same time, the more Roland talked, the more surprised did his father appear at the mental activity of the lad; and the conversation in the old castle, after Claus had questioned him, was brought back to his mind with strange a.s.sociations and connections.

Sonnenkamp was inwardly debating what to do. To dismiss Eric on the spot would not answer, on Roland's account; such peremptory dismissal might only make him cling all the more obstinately to his erroneous views and tendencies. Besides, it would be ill-advised to bring about a rupture with Eric, on account of the Cabinetsrathin, especially since she had expressed herself strongly on the point of procuring the a.s.sistance of Eric's mother; above all else, however, Clodwig had to be considered, for the connection with Clodwig was not Pranken's, but Eric's work, and Clodwig was the most powerful ally in the execution of the plan.

Sonnenkamp was actuated by a twofold jealousy: the clergy had taken one child from him; this time, a man of the world was on the point of taking away the other. He did not disapprove in direct terms of Eric's ideas, he merely cautioned his son as to there being no need of such utter submission to a paid person, adding that he saw no necessity of his fretting too much about his studies, which might do well enough for people who had to fight their way in life, but certainly not for a young man who required just about knowledge enough to be able to express an opinion of his own. He admonished his son not to allow his life to be disturbed by fantasies; and found it an easy task once more to make the glitter of a soldier's life in the capital appear very attractive to him.

Soon after the first salutations were exchanged, Sonnenkamp enquired of Eric where he had been the day before; putting this question very much like a master, whose servant's time is by right his own, and who is therefore justified in demanding a proper account thereof.

Eric told him of his visit to Wolfsgarten, dwelling more particularly on a description of the Russian prince.