The Lost Manuscript: A Novel

"I thank you for your good-will. Highness, but nothing can help me. I will have to fight it out alone."

He turned away again.

"Bah! comrade, have you forgotten the soldiers' saying: 'Like all, love one, grieve for none?' If your heart is heavy, you should not rove about as you do. In lack of another companion put up for the time with me."

"That is too much honor," said Gabriel, taking off his cap.

The Prince had during this conversation gradually led him into a thicket; he seated himself on the root of an old tree, and motioned Gabriel to the next trunk.

"We are in concealment here; you look out that way, I will watch this road, that no one can surprise us. How do your lodgings please you? Have you found pleasant acquaintances?"

"I think it prudent to trust no one here," answered Gabriel, cautiously.

"But I do not belong here; there is no reason why you should not make me an exception. You may assume that we belong to the same company, that we are sitting by the same fire, and drinking from the same flask. You are right: all is not so safe here as it looks. I do not like these nocturnal disturbances in the castle. Have you heard of them?"

Gabriel assented.

"In such an old castle," continued the Prince, "there are many doors that few know-perhaps also passages in the wall. Whether it is spirits or something else, who knows? It glides about and sometimes comes out when one least expects it; and just when one has put on one's night-shirt a secret door is opened, or a plank in the floor rises, and a cursed apparition floats up, removes what is on the table, and before one can bethink oneself, disappears again."

"Who can allow such a thing, your Highness?" replied Gabriel, valiantly.

"Who can be on his guard?" said the Prince, laughing; "it stretches out its hand, and one becomes immovable; it holds a sponge before the nose of the sleeper and he does not awake."

Gabriel listened attentively.

"People say that in the Pavilion all is not secure," continued the Prince. "It would be as well for a trusty man to make an examination in secret; and if an entrance should be found that is not regular it should be fastened with a screw or a bolt. It is indeed uncertain whether or not one may find such a thing, for such devil's work is slyly managed."

He nodded significantly to Gabriel, who stared at him in great astonishment.

"That is only a thought of mine," said the Prince; "but when a soldier is in foreign quarters he looks after every security during the time that his people sleep."

"I understand all," replied Gabriel, in a low voice.

"One must not cause others unnecessary alarm," continued the Prince; "but in secret one may do one's duty like a brave man. I see you are that." The Prince rose from his seat. "If you should at any time need my help, or have anything to tell me which no one else should know, I have a fellow with a great moustache, a good, quiet man; make his acquaintance. For the rest, take care of yourselves here. There is a lackey who idles about near you; if there are any errands to do he can attend to them. It is a good thing for a family to have a trustworthy man at hand in a strange house. Good day, comrade, I hope I have changed the current of your thoughts."

He went away; Gabriel remained in deep thought. The bantering of the Prince had roused the honest man from his sorrow; he busied himself now about the house in the day-time, but in the evening, when his master and mistress were at the theatre, he was to be seen sometimes with the Prince's servant in confidential conversation on a garden bench.

The spirit of sad foreboding spread its grey veil over the walls of the Pavilion, but in the Sovereign's castle meanwhile an invisible hobgoblin of another kind was at work, disturbing great and small. The stable was in consternation. The Prince's favorite saddle-horse was a white Ivenacker. When in the morning the groom went to the horse, he found it with a large black heart painted on its chest. He could not wash out the scandalous mark, probably the evil spirit had in this prank employed a dye intended for the hair of man. Connoisseurs declared that only time could heal the injury. They could not help making it known to the Sovereign who was violently angry, and set the strictest investigations on foot. The night-watchers of the stable had seen no one, no stranger's foot had entered the place; only the groom of Prince Victor, a moustached foreigner, had, at the same time with the other stable servants, cleaned the horse that he had lately received as a present from a relative. The man was examined, he spoke little German, was said by the other servants to be harmless and simple, and nothing could be learnt from him. Finally, the stable-boy who had kept watch was dismissed from service. He disappeared from the capital, and would have been reduced to great misery if Prince Victor had not provided for the poor wretch in his garrison.

There was a great uproar among the ballet-girls. In the new tragic ballet, "The Water Sprite," the first dancer, Guiseppa Scarletti, had a brilliant rôle, in which she was to wear green-silk trunks, with rich silver trimmings. When she was to put on this part of the costume, which was very important for the rôle, for the first representation, her assistant was so awkward as to hand it to her wrong side foremost. The lady expressed her displeasure strongly, the tire-woman turned it round, and it was still wrong. Upon nearer inspection of this piece of art, it was discovered, with dismay, that it presented two convex surfaces like the shell of a bivalve. Mademoiselle Scarletti broke out into a fury, and then into tears and finally hysterics; the manager and the intendant were called; the artiste declared that after this disgrace and disturbance she could not dance. It was not until Prince Victor, whom she highly esteemed, came into the dressing-room to express his deep indignation, and the Sovereign desired her to be told that the insult should be punished in the severest manner, that she recovered sufficient courage to play the difficult rôle. Meanwhile the fairylike rapidity of the theatrical tailor had remedied the injury to her dress. She danced superbly, but with a sad expression that became her well. The intendant was already rejoicing that the misfortune had thus passed off, when suddenly, in the midst of the last scene, when the whole depth of the stage was disclosed, the exchanged trunks appeared under Bengal lights in the water nymph's grotto, hanging peacefully upon two projecting points of a silver rock, as if a water sprite had hung them up to dry. Upon this there was a disturbance, and loud laughter among the audience, and the curtain had to fall before the Bengal lights were extinguished. It all looked like revenge, but again the culprit could not be discovered.

The hair of all the servants stood on end. They knew that in the bad times of the princely house a black lady walked through the corridors and rooms, which portended misfortune to it. The belief in this was general; even the High Marshal shared in it; the black lady had appeared to his grandfather, when, on a lonely night, he was awaiting the return of his gracious master. One evening, after the Court had withdrawn, the Marshal was walking, with the lackey carrying a light before him, through the empty rooms to the wing in which Prince Victor lodged, in order to smoke a cigar with him. Suddenly the lackey started back and pointed, trembling, to a corner. There stood the black figure, the head covered with a veil; she raised her hand threateningly, and disappeared through a door in the tapestry. The light fell out of the hand of the lackey, the Marshal groped in the dark to the anteroom of the Prince, and sank down on the sofa there. When the Prince entered from his dressing-room he found him in a state of the highest consternation: even a glass of punch, which he himself poured out, could not arouse him from his depression. The news that the black lady had appeared flew throughout the castle; an uneasy foreboding of evil occupied the Court. In the evening the lackeys ran hurriedly through the corridor, and were frightened at the echo of their own steps, and the Court ladies would not leave their rooms without escort. The Sovereign also heard of it; his brow contracted gloomily, and at dinner he looked contemptuously at the Marshal.

Even the Court ladies were not spared. Miss von Lossau, who lodged in a wing of the palace over the rooms of the Princess, returned to her apartment one night in the happiest frame of mind. Prince Victor had paid her marked attentions. He had been very amusing, and had shown a degree of feeling which he had never before evinced. Her maid undressed her, and she laid herself to rest with sweet and pleasant thoughts. All was quiet: she fell into her first sleep. The image of the Prince danced before her; then she heard a slight noise; there was a crackling; something moved slowly under her bed. She started; the mysterious noise ceased. She was on the point of deluding herself into the belief that it was a dream, when the noise was repeated under the bed, and something came clattering out. She heard an alarming sound, and saw by the faint light of the night-lamp that a ball was slowly pushing itself behind the chair, and stopping in front of the bed. Half unconscious from terror, she jumped out of bed, touched a strange object with her naked foot, at once felt a sharp pain, and sank back with a scream. She now raised a loud cry for help, till her maid rushed in, and tremblingly lit the candle. The lady was still shrieking in a corner, where the prickly spectre-ball still lingered in quiet timidity, and gradually showed itself to be a great hedgehog, which was sitting there, still dreamy from its winter sleep, with tears on its nose. Miss Lossau became ill from fright. When the physician hastened to her the next morning, he found the lackeys and maidservants collected in close conclave before her door. On the door was pasted a white placard, on which was to be read, in large characters, "Bettina von Lossau, Princely Court Spy." Again there was the strictest investigation, and again the culprit was not discovered.

But the spirit of torment that had quartered itself under the roof of the castle did not confine its tricks to the Court and its household: it ventured to disturb the Professor also in his learned work.

Ilse was sitting alone, looking absent-mindedly at the pictures of Reynard the Fox, when the lackey threw open the door, announcing:

"His Highness, the Sovereign!"

The Sovereign glanced at the picture in the open book.

"So that is the view you take of our position. The satire of those pages is bitter, but they contain imperishable truth."

Ilse closed the book, coloring.

"The ill-behaved beasts are rude egotists; it is otherwise among men."

"Do you think so?" asked the Sovereign. "Those who have had experience with them will not judge so leniently. The two-legged animals that pursue their aims at the courts of princes are, for the most part, as reckless in their egotism, and as much inclined to profess their attachment. It is not easy to restrain their pretensions."

"Amongst the bad there are surely some better, in whom good preponderates?" rejoined Ilse.

The Sovereign inclined his head civilly.

"He who has to watch all keenly feels the narrow-mindedness of every individual, for he must know where and how far he can place confidence. Such an observation of various natures, which is always seeking to separate the reality from the glitter, to sound the worth of different characters, and to retain for the observer superior judgment, sharpens the perception of the deficiencies of others. It is possible that we may sometimes judge too severely, while you, with your warm feeling, fall into the amiable weakness of viewing men in too favorable a light."

"My lot, then, is happier," exclaimed Ilse, looking at the Sovereign, with honest commiseration.

"It is sweeter and happier," said the latter with feeling, "to give one's self up without restraint to one's feelings, to associate innocently with a few whom one chooses freely, to avoid by slight effort the ill-disposed, and to open one's heart gladly, and without restraint, to those one loves. But he who is condemned to live in the cold atmosphere of business, struggling against countless interests which clash together, can only carry on this existence by surrounding his daily life with regulations which will at least preserve him from overwhelming burdens and annoyances, and compel the foxes and wolves to bend their stubborn heads. Such rules of Court and government are no perfect work; there will often be complaints against them. You, perhaps, may have had occasion to remark that the customs and etiquette of a Court are not without harshness; yet they are necessary, for it makes it easy to us to withdraw and keep within ourselves, and maintain a certain isolation, which helps us to preserve our inward freedom."

Ilse looked conscious.

"But believe me," continued the Sovereign, "we still are human beings; we would gladly give ourselves up to the impulse of the moment, and live without restraint with those whom we esteem. We must often sacrifice ourselves, and we experience moments when such sacrifices are very severe."

"But within the princely family itself these considerations do not apply," exclaimed Ilse. "The mutual intercourse of father and children, brothers and sisters, – these holy relations can never be disturbed."

A cloud came over the countenance of the Sovereign.

"Even they suffer in their exposed position. We do not live together; we see each other less alone, generally under the observation of others. Each has his special circle of interest, is influenced by those about him, who perhaps diminish his confidence in his nearest relations. You know my son; he has all the qualifications of a good, open-hearted man, but you will have observed how suspicious and reserved he has become."

Ilse forgot all caution, and again felt a little proud of being a confidante.

"Forgive me," she explained; "I have never found that. He is only bashful, and sometimes a little awkward."

The Sovereign smiled.

"You lately expressed an opinion with reference to what would be advantageous for his future. That he should for a time become acquainted with the management of a large family estate; it would undoubtedly be good for him to learn the work of a country gentleman by experience. Besides this, he is not happy at Court."

Ilse nodded.

"Have you also remarked that?" asked the Sovereign.

"I will give good advice for my Prince," thought Ilse, "even if it is not quite agreeable to him. May I venture to say," she said aloud, "that this is the best time of all. For he must learn, your Highness, the spring tilling, which is in full operation, so there must be no delay."

The Sovereign was much pleased with this zeal.

"It will not be easy to find a place," he said.

"Perhaps your Highness has an estate in the neighborhood where there is a small manor-house."

"Then he could come often to the city," replied the Sovereign sharply.

"That would not do," continued Ilse, eagerly. "He must first thoroughly know the work of the people, and for that be constantly in the fields."

"I could not find a better adviser," said the Sovereign, in excellent humor. "There is nothing in the vicinity that will answer; I have thought, however, of your father's estate."

Ilse started with surprise.

"But our mode of life is not adapted for the accommodation of a prince," she replied with reserve. "No, gracious Sovereign, the domestic arrangements of our family would not be suitable to the pretensions of the young man. I say nothing of other considerations which formerly never occurred to me, and which have first come home to me here. Therefore, if I may speak what I feel, I am of opinion that this, for many reasons, will not answer."

"It was only a thought," replied the Sovereign, good-humoredly. "The object may perhaps be attained without encroaching upon your father. It has been my wish," he continued, with chivalrous politeness, "to give you and your father a public proof of my esteem. I have special reasons for it." He looked significantly at Ilse, and she thought of the birthday of the Princess.

"I know the reason," she said softly.

The Sovereign drew his chair near.

"Your father has a large family?" he asked. "I have a vague recollection of having seen several rosy-cheeked boys about."

"They were my brothers," said Ilse, laughing; "they are handsome little fellows, gracious Sovereign, if I, as a sister, may praise them; they are at present somewhat uncouth, but good and clever. My Franz wrote to me only yesterday to beg me to greet your Highness for him. The little urchin thinks it is the right thing. Now, as I have the opportunity, I will show you the letter as he has written it; it is a stupid, childish message, but it comes from a good heart."

She felt in her pocket and brought forth a letter written in fair characters.

"See, your Highness, how well the child writes. But I must not show you the letter, for your Highness would find in it a confirmation of your opinion, that men have always selfish wishes in the background when they think of their princes. The poor boy also has his wish."

"Then let us have it," said the Sovereign.

Ilse showed him the letter; the Sovereign graciously took hold of the letter, and in doing so, his hand rested on hers.

"He is so barefaced as to ask your highness for an india-rubber ball. The ball is already bought."

She jumped up and brought a gigantic colored ball.

"This I shall send to him to-day, and I shall write to him that it is not seemly to beg of so great a personage. He is nine years old, but still very childish-your highness must forgive him."

Enchanted by this frank open-heartedness, the Sovereign said:

"Write to him, at the same time, that I wish to tell him he must endeavor to preserve through the dangerous paths of life the pure feeling and loyal spirit of his eldest sister. I also feel how great is the blessing of your character to all who have the happiness of breathing your atmosphere. In a course of life which is filled with harrowing impressions, in which hatred and suspicion take more from the peace of the soul than hours of repose can restore to it, I have still retained my susceptibility for the innocent freshness of a mind like yours. You give me genuine pleasure."

Again he laid his hand gently on hers; Ilse looked down confused at the praise of her dear Sovereign.

A hasty step approached; the Sovereign rose, and the Professor entered. He bowed to the Sovereign, and looked surprised at his wife.

"You are not ill?" he exclaimed. "Pardon, gracious Sir, I came in great anxiety about my wife. A strange boy rang the bell at the Museum, and brought a message that I must go immediately to see my wife, as she was ill; fortunately it was a mistake."

"I am thankful for the error," replied the Sovereign, "as it gives me the opportunity of saying to you what I was intending to mention to Madame Werner; orders have been given at the stable that a carriage shall be ready for you at any hour that you wish to take a journey in the neighborhood to pursue your mysterious investigations."

He took leave graciously.

The Sovereign opened the window of his study; the air was sultry, the sun had been shining long upon the earth; now it had vanished, heavy clouds rolled themselves, like great shapeless porpoises, over the city and castle. The Sovereign fetched a deep breath, but the heavy, sultry air forced the smoke from the chimneys of the castle down to his window, enveloping his head like a great mist. He hastily opened the door of the gallery which led to the reception-rooms, and walked out. Against the walls hung a row of oil pictures, the portraits of beautiful ladies whom he had once favored with his attentions. His look strayed from one to the other; at the end of the row was an empty place; he stopped before it, and his fancy painted a picture with blonde hair, and a true-hearted, frank light in the eyes, more touching than any of the other faces.

"So late," he said, to himself. "It is the last place and the strongest feeling. They are fools who tell us that years make us indifferent. If I had come across her at the other end," he glanced back along the gallery, "at the beginning of my life, when I yet looked longingly at the roses on the cheeks of maidens and was touched by the song of hedge-sparrows, would such a woman then have preserved in me what I have lost forever? Useless thoughts of the past! I must in the present keep firm hold of what has come within the reach of my hand. She is indifferent about the weak youth; but she feels herself uneasy here, and if she tries to escape me I have no power to keep her back. I remain alone; daily the same wearisome faces, whose thoughts one knows before they are spoken, whose wishes one knows before they open their mouths, and whom one sees to be prepared with feigned feelings. Whatever wit or will they have works secretly against me; what I receive from them is only the artificial glitter of life. It is sad to be a master before whom living souls turn into machines, and year after year to open the lid and examine the works. I myself have made them," he said, jeeringly, "but I am weary of my work."

"I know that the doubt arises often in my mind," the Sovereign murmured, "whether my unhappy skill has made them lies of human nature, or whether I myself am an automaton, which when wound up nods and repeats the same gracious words without thought. I know there are hours when I am ashamed of myself, when I strut about the stage as a clown or a bully; I see the wires that move my joints; I feel a desire to place my own head in the vice in order to improve what is faulty in it, and I see a large chest open into which I am thrown when my rôle is played out."

"Oh," he groaned, from the depths of his heart. "I know that I am a reality, if not by day, yet at night. None of those about me are tormented in lonely hours as I am; their temples do not beat with fever heat when they lie down after their day's work.

"What pleasure have I amidst these dull tapestry-rooms, or among the old pictures of Mother Nature? Laughing without amusement, angry about trifles, – everything cold, indifferent, and soulless!

"It is only in rare moments, when I have been with her, that I feel like another man; then the warm blood courses through my veins. When in her honest simplicity she talks of all that she loves and takes pleasure in, a woman with a child's heart, then I become young again like her. She talked to me of her brother 'curly-head.' I see the boy before me, a lively lad, with his sister's eyes. I see the little simpleton eating his bread and butter, and it moves me as if I were reading a touching story. I long to catch up the boy in my arms as if he belonged to me.

"She herself is true and upright; it is a pure mind, and beneath her calm gentleness strong passion lies concealed. What a passion she fell into when my messenger offered her the patent of nobility! She is a woman to live with whom is worth some trouble, and to gain whom a man would do much.

"But what can I do? What I can give her will be of little value to her; what I take from her-how will she make up her mind to that?" He looked timidly at the empty place on the wall. "Another picture was to have hung there," he exclaimed; "why is it not there? Why does the remembrance of one long gone lie on my brain like a stone, the pressure of which I feel every day when mingling among men, and every night when I rest my weary head upon my hands? That woman slept many years ago in the same room where now the stranger reposes; she did not awake, as it would have been right for her to have done; when she did awake and came to consciousness, a spring broke in her weak mind, and she remained a soulless body."

A feverish shudder passed through him; he shook himself and rushed out of the gallery, looked shyly behind him, and closed the door.

"The violence of passion is extinguished," he continued, after a time; "with years one becomes more cautious. I will hold her fast, whatever may be the result; it is no longer the burning glow of youth, it is the heart of a ripened man that I offer to her. With firm patience will I await what time prepares for me; slowly will this fruit ripen in the warm sun. I shall persevere, but I will hold her fast. Her husband is becoming suspicious about her; it was an awkward excuse that he invented; he also is struggling out of my hand. I must keep her, and only childish means can be used for these childlike hearts."