Maezli Part 5

"Philip, that does not console me," the sister answered. "That has never been Bruno's way at all. He never fights that way. But it is hard to tell what he might do in a fit of anger at some injustice or meanness, and that is what frightens me so."

"His G.o.dfather of the same name has probably pa.s.sed that on to him.

n.o.body more than you, Maxa, has always tried to wash him clean and excuse him for all his deeds of anger. In your indestructible admiration ..."

Uncle Philip got no further, as all the children now came running toward them. The two little ones both tried hard to put the biggest strawberries they had found into the mouths of their mother and uncle.

Mea could not hold her magnificent bunch of forget-me-nots near enough to their eyes to be admired. The two older boys had approached, too, as they had an announcement to make. The sun had gone down behind the mountain, so they had remembered that it was time to go home.

Mother and uncle rose from their seats and the whole group started down the mountainside. The two little ones were gaily trotting beside the uncle, bursting into wild shouting now and then, for he made such leaps that they flew high into the air sometimes. He held them so firmly, however, that they always reached the ground safely.

At the entrance to the house Kurt had a brilliant idea. "Oh, mother," he called out excitedly over the prospect, "tonight we must have the story of the Wallerstatten family. It will fit so well because we were able to see the castle today, with all its gables, embrasures and battlements."

But the mother answered: "I am sorry to say we can't. Uncle is here today, and as he has to leave early tomorrow morning, I have to talk to him tonight. You have to go to bed early, otherwise you will be too tired to get up tomorrow after your long walk."

"Oh, what a shame, what a shame!" Kurt lamented. He was still hoping that he would find out something in the story about the ghost of Wildenstein, despite the fact that one could not really believe in him.

Sitting on the tree that afternoon, he had been lost in speculations as to where the ghost might have appeared.

When the mother went to Mazli's bed that night to say prayers with her she found her still very much excited, as usual, by the happenings of the day. She always found it difficult to quiet the little girl, but to-day she seemed filled by very vivid impressions. Now that everything was still, they seemed to come back to her.

Mazli sat straight up in her bed with s.h.i.+ning eyes as soon as her mother appeared. "Why was the Knippel-soup allowed to spoil Apollonie's Sunday peace?" she cried out.

"Where have you heard that, Mazli?" the mother said, quite frightened.

She already saw the moment before her when Mazli would tell the district attorney's wife that new appellation. "You must never use that expression any more, Mazli. You see, n.o.body would be able to know what you mean. Kurt invented it apparently when Apollonie spoke about having so much to swallow. He should not have said it. Do you understand, Mazli, that you must not say it any more?"

"Yes, but why is anyone allowed to spoil Apollonie's Sunday peace?" Mazli persevered. Apollonie was her special friend, whom she wanted to keep from harm.

"No one should do it, Mazli," the mother replied. It is wrong to spoil anybody's Sunday peace and no one should do it."

"But our good G.o.d should quickly call down, 'Don't do it, don't do it!'

Then they would know that they were not allowed," was Mazli's opinion.

"He does it, Mazli! He does it every time anybody does wrong," said the mother, "for the evil-doer always hears such a voice that calls out to him: 'Don't do it, don't do it!' But sometimes he does it in spite of the voice. Even young children like you, Mazli, hear the voice when they feel like doing wrong, and they do wrong just the same."

"I only wonder why G.o.d does not punish them right away; He ought to do that," Mazli eagerly replied.

"But He does," said the mother. As soon as anybody has done wrong, he feels a great weight on his heart so that he keeps on thinking, 'I wish I hadn't done it!' Then our good G.o.d is good and merciful to him and does not punish him further. He gives him plenty of time to come to Him and tell Him how sorry he is to have done wrong. G.o.d gives him the chance to beg His pardon. But if he does not do that, he is sure to be punished so that he will do more and more evil and become more terribly unhappy all the time."

"I'll look out, too, now if I can hear the voice," was Mazli's resolution.

"The chief thing is to follow the voice, Mazli," said the mother. "But we must be quiet now. Say your prayers, darling, then you will soon go to sleep."

Mazli said her little prayer very devoutly. As there was nothing more to trouble her, she lay down and was half asleep as soon as her mother closed the door behind her.

She was still expected at four other little beds. Every one of the children had a problem to bring to her, but there was so little time left to-day that they had to be put off till to-morrow. In fact, they were all glad to make a little sacrifice for their beloved uncle. When she came back into the room, she found him hurrying impatiently up and down.

He could hardly wait to make his sister the announcement to which he had already referred several times.

"Are you coming at last?" he called to her. "Are you not a bit curious what present I have brought you?"

"Oh, Philip, I am sure it can only be a joke," Mrs. Maxa replied. "I should love to know what you meant when you spoke of the children of Wallerstatten."

"It happens to be one and the same thing," the brother replied. "Come here now and sit down beside me and get your mending-basket right away so that you won't have to jump up again. I know you. You will probably run off two or three times to the children."

"No, Philip, to-day is Sunday and I won't mend. The children are all sleeping peacefully, so please tell me about it."

Uncle Philip sat down quietly beside his sister and began: "As surely as I am now sitting here beside you, Maxa, so surely young Leonore of Wallerstatten was sitting beside me three days ago. I am really as sure as anything that it was Leonore's child. She is only an hour's distance away from you and is probably going to stay in this neighborhood for a few weeks. I wanted to bring you this news as a present."

Mrs. Maxa first could not say a word from astonishment.

"Are you quite sure, Philip?" she asked, wis.h.i.+ng for an affirmation.

"How could you become so sure that the child you saw was Leonore's little daughter?"

"First of all, because n.o.body who has known Leonore can ever forget what she looked like. The child is exactly like her and looks at one just the way Leonore used to do. Secondly, the child's name was Leonore, too.

Thirdly, she had the same brown curls rippling down her shoulders that her mother had, and she spoke with a voice as soft and charming. For the fifth and sixth reasons, because only Leonore could have such a child, for there could not be two people like her in the whole world." Uncle Philip had grown very warm during these ardent proofs.

"Please tell me exactly where and how you saw the child," the sister urged.

So the brother related how he had come back three days ago from a trip and, arriving in town, had given orders in the hotel for a carriage to be brought round to take him back to Sils that same evening. The host had then informed him that two ladies had just ordered a carriage to take them to the same destination. He thought that as long as they had seemed to be strangers and were anxious to know more about the road, they would be very glad to have a companion who was going the same way. So the host had made all necessary arrangements, as there were no objections to the plan on either side. When the carriage had driven up, he had seen that the ladies had with them a little daughter who was to occupy the back-seat of the carriage.

"This daughter, as I thought, was Leonore's child. I am as certain of that as of my relation with you," the brother concluded.

Mrs. Maxa was filled with great excitement.

Could one of the children for whom she had vainly longed and inquired for such long years be really so near her? Would she be able to see her? Who were the ladies to whom she belonged?

To all her various questions the brother could only answer that the ladies with whom Leonore was living came from the neighborhood of Hannover. They had taken a little villa in Sils on the mountain, which they had seen advertised for the summer months. He had shown the ladies his estate in Sils and had offered to serve them in whatever way they wished. Then they had taken leave.

Leonore's name had wakened so many happy memories of her beautiful childhood and youth in Mrs. Maxa that she began to revive those times with her brother and tirelessly talked of the days they had spent there together with her unforgettable friend Leonore and her two cousins. The brother seemed just as ready to indulge in those delightful memories as she was, and whenever she ceased, he began again to talk of all the unusual happenings and exploits that had taken place with their dear friends.

"Do you know, Maxa, I think we had much better playmates than your children have," he said finally. "If Bruno beats his comrades, I like it better than if he acted as they do."

Brother and sister had not talked so far into the night for a long time.

Nevertheless, Mrs. Maxa could not get to sleep for hours afterwards.

Leonore's image with the long, brown curls and the winning expression in her eyes woke her lively desire to see the child that resembled her so much.

CHAPTER III

CASTLE WILDENSTEIN

When Mazli and Lippo were neatly washed and dressed the next morning, they came downstairs to the living-room chattering in the most lively manner. Mazli was just telling Lippo her plans for the afternoon when he should be back from school. The mother, after attending to some task, followed the children, who were standing around the piano.

As soon as she entered, Kurt broke out into a frightened cry. "Oh, mother, we have forgotten all about the poor people whose houses burnt down and we were supposed to take the things with us this morning."

"Yes, the teacher told us twice that we must not forget it," Lippo complained, "but I didn't forget it."

"Don't worry, children, I have attended to it," said the mother. "Kathy has just gone to the school with a basket full of things. It was too heavy for you to carry."

"Oh, how nice and convenient it is to have a mother," Kurt said quite relieved.