The Lost Manuscript: A Novel

The old man took leave. Ilse looked gloomily after him; but she said with more composure to Mrs. Rollmaus:

"This accounts for the language of the stroller, which sounded different to that of begging people in general, and it accounts for her wish to receive the pardon of the Prince."

But now Mrs. Rollmaus in her turn became depressed and sad.

"Ah, dear Ilse! if the witch has really lived here among these distinguished people, she may know many things that have happened in this house; for people do not speak well of it, and they say that in former times princely mistresses lived here. The house is not to blame, nor are we; it is only because the Hereditary Prince has gone to your father, and you knew him at the University, that people shake their heads at it; it is idle gossip."

"What gossip?" exclaimed Ilse, in a hoarse voice, seizing the hand of Mrs. Rollmaus.

"They say that you are the cause of the Hereditary Prince coming into our country. We should all rejoice if you were to visit your father before you journey, as was intended; but I really believe, as long as the Prince is there, it would be better for you to remain here, or anywhere else. It is only for the sake of prudence," she continued, soothingly, "and you must not take it to heart."

Ilse stood silent and motionless; Mrs. Rollmaus continuing her comforting words, but Ilse scarcely seemed conscious of them.

It is not safe, Ilse, to teach young princes to use agricultural machines, and to fight duels; the tuition fee will be paid you doubly, and in new coin, as is the custom of the courts.

There was a long and uneasy silence in the room. Ilse looked wildly about; then she took a cane chair, and placed herself opposite to Mrs. Rollmaus, and her fingers flew over her work. "Do not let us talk any more of such calumnies," she said. "What is your son Karl doing? are you satisfied with his progress? and how does he get on with the pianoforte? It would be a good thing for him to understand something about music."

Mrs. Rollmaus recovered her spirits talking over the dances that her son Karl played; she chattered on, and Ilse listened silently, counting over the stitches in her colored wool-work.

The Professor returned, and shortly after the carriage drove up. Mrs. Rollmaus disappeared into the next room to pack up her cap in the band-box, and then took an eloquent leave of her dear friend, the Professor. Her last words to Ilse were:

"It may be long before we meet again; preserve your friendship for me even though I am far from you."

"What is the meaning of these solemn words of parting our neighbor has spoken?" asked the Professor, astonished.

"They mean that we are in a house, to be within the walls of which fills an honest woman with horror and dread," answered Ilse, with flashing eyes; "and they mean that I wish to go away from here, and that it is time for you to take away your wife from unwholesome surroundings."

She told him breathlessly what Mrs. Rollmaus had related, and what the beggar-woman had suggested.

"I am ensnared, Felix," she exclaimed, "by my own fault, I am sorry to say. God knows that in my conduct towards the young Prince I had no thought of bringing your wife into disrepute, but I have been imprudent, and I am suffering for it horribly, horribly! Now I understand the forebodings which have tormented me for weeks past. If you love me take me away quickly from here, the ground burns beneath my feet."

A sharp pang seized the Professor as he saw his wife struggling with agony, bitter enough to stun the strongest soul of woman, and to crush the noblest powers for years.

"It is as repugnant and humiliating to me as to you to look openly upon wickedness. I am ready to do all that I can to deliver you from this trouble. Let us calmly consider how this can be done. You cannot, in such a state of passionate feeling, decide what would be good for you, for your judgment is not unbiased enough to choose your own course. To what old house that a tenant rents or a landlord opens, do not painful recollections attach? Even he who lives a simple life in a strange neighborhood, cannot escape the attacks of idle gossip. Turn away your thoughts from that common woman. It would not become either you or me to depart like fugitives on her account. What have we done, Ilse, to lose our self-respect? There is only one wise method of dealing with the evil work of foolish and perverse accidents, to go forward firmly and to care little for it. Then the dissonance will pass away and perish of itself in the noise of daily life. Those who allow themselves to be disturbed by it, increase it by their own sorrow. Suppose that we were suddenly to leave this house, you would carry away with you the feeling of having left like one who had been conquered, and you would be incessantly pursued by the consciousness of a discordant murmur behind us which would not be silenced."

"You speak coldly and wisely," exclaimed Ilse, deeply incensed; "in spite of what you say, though, you little feel the injury your wife suffers."

"If you now had the self-possession for which I always admired you, you would not allow such unjust complaints to pass your lips," replied her husband, gloomily. "You must know that if I saw you in danger, I would this very hour take you away. Must I now waste words with you to tell you that. But even against the gossip of the weak, this residence is the best defense, for the Prince is away and you remain behind with your husband."

"I know the cause of this indifference," murmured Ilse.

"You know what binds me here," exclaimed the Professor, "and if you were to me what you ought to be, the sharer of my hopes, and if you had the same feeling for the value of the treasure which I seek, you would, like me, feel that I should not needlessly turn away. Bear with this residence, dear Ilse, however irksome it may appear to you," he continued encouragingly, "the longest period is past. I am invited to pursue my quest in the country-chateau of the Princess; there I anticipate that I shall find what will set us free."

"Do not go," exclaimed Ilse, approaching him; "do not leave me in this dreadful insecurity, in a terror that makes me shudder at myself and every strange sound that I hear in these rooms."

"Terror," exclaimed the Professor, displeased, "terror of spirits. Rarely is life among strangers so easy and comfortable as this residence is to us; there may be discord everywhere, and it is our own fault if we allow it to master us."

"Do not go," cried Ilse again. "Yes, there are spirits that pursue me, they hang day and night above my head. Do not go, Felix," she exclaimed, raising her hand; "it is not the manuscript alone that allures you, but the woman who awaits you there. This I have known ever since the first day we came to this town. I see how the magic of her superficial soul ensnares you. I have until to-day struggled against this fear, from the confidence I had in my loved husband. If you go now, Felix, when I would like to cling to you, when I seek every moment for comfort from your voice, I shall begin to doubt you and to have the fearful thought that my trouble is indifferent to you, because you have become cold to me."

"What are you thinking of, Ilse?" cried the scholar, horrified; "is it my wife that speaks thus? when have I ever concealed my feelings from you? and can you not read in my soul as in an open book? Then, was it this that lay so heavy on your mind? Just what I should not have considered possible," he said, frankly and sorrowfully.

"No, no," cried Ilse, beside herself; "I am unjust, I know it; do not attend to my words. I trust you; I cling to you. Oh! Felix, I should be driven to despair if this support breaks under me."

She threw her arms around his neck, and sobbed. Her husband embraced her, and tears came into his eyes at the grief of his wife.

"Remain with me, my Felix," continued Ilse, weeping. "Do not leave me alone just now. I have still a childish, simple heart. Have patience with me. I have been ill at ease here; I do not know why. I cling to you, and I tremble lest you should be alienated from me. I know that you are mine, and I struggle with the fearful foreboding that I shall lose you here. When you go out of the house, it seems to me as if I must take an eternal farewell, and when you return, I look doubtfully at you, as if you had changed towards me in a few hours. I am unhappy, Felix, and unhappiness makes one distrustful. I have become weak and faint-hearted, and I am afraid of telling you, because I fear that you will on that account have less respect for me. Remain here, my beloved; do not go to the Princess-at least, not to-morrow."

"If not to-morrow," he said, cheerfully, "then the next day, or some other day. I cannot forego this short journey. To give it up would be a wrong that we must not take upon ourselves. The longer I delay. Ilse, the longer you will be kept within these walls. Even from your point of view, is it not prudent to do quickly what would make us free?"

Ilse released herself from his embrace.

"You speak sensibly at a moment when I had hoped for a far different tone from your heart," she said quietly. "I know, Felix, that you do not wish to give me pain, and I hope that you are true in what you now say, and conceal nothing from me. But I feel in the depths of my heart a long-accustomed pang that has often come over me in sorrowful days since I have known you. You think differently from what I do, and you feel differently in many things. The individual and his sufferings signify little to you in comparison to the great thoughts that you carry about with you. You stand on a height, in a clear atmosphere, and have no sympathy with the anguish and trouble in the valley at your feet. Clear is the air, but cold, and a chill seizes me, when I see it."

"It is the nature of a man," said the Professor, more deeply moved by the restrained grief of his wife than by her loud complaints.

"No," answered Ilse, gazing fixedly before her, "it is only the nature of a scholar."

In the night, when the scholar had been long sleeping, his wife rose by his side and gazed, in the subdued light, on the countenance of her loved husband. She got up, and held the night-lamp so that the yellow light fell on his peaceful countenance, and large tears dropped from her eyes on his head. Then she placed herself before him, wringing her hands, and striving to restrain the weeping and convulsions which shook her body.

CHAPTER XXXV.

IN THE PRINCESS'S TOWER

When the Princess, at the urgent desire of her father, had returned to her home, the illustrious family whose name she now bore made it a condition, not only that she should pass some months of the year at the residence of her deceased husband, but that she should have a special establishment arranged for her in her father's capital. A compact to this effect was concluded, the object of which was undoubtedly to secure to the young Princess a certain degree of independence. In order to fulfil the agreement in appearance, a princely castle in the country was assigned to the Princess for a dwelling, as there was no suitable building in the capital. The castle was half a day's journey from the city, at the foot of a woody hill, surrounded by fields and villages-a pleasant summer residence. The Princess had already spent some of the months of her mourning there.

It was a warm day on which the Professor set off to go to the castle. The air had not yet become cool after the storm of the night. There were fleeting shadows and bright sunshine on the sky and earth; the thick clouds sometimes cast a grey covering over the straight road along which the learned man passed; but then again it lay before him like a golden path, leading to the longed-for goal.

Thus did dazzling light and dark shadows flit through the soul of our scholar. "The manuscript will be found; it is concealed from us," he said to himself, and his brow became clouded. "If it should not be found, many will read with astonishment how deceptive appearances were, how near the possibility. Many will with regret resign the hope which the words of the monk had inspired, yet none will feel this regret so much as I shall. A thought which has for years occupied my fancy, and directed my eyes to one object, has gained the mastery over me. The free mind of man plays with the thousand impressions of ancient and modern times: he restrains their power by the balance of his reason and strength of his will. But with me a small image of the faded characters of an old book has penetrated so deeply into my soul that the hope of obtaining it makes the blood course through my veins, and the fear of losing it paralyzes my energies. I know that my eagerness is too great; it has hardened me against the childish anguish of my wife, and I myself have not become stronger since I have trodden the uncertain path of the poacher. Every one should be on his guard lest his dreams should diminish the sovereignty of his mind. Even the dreams of the best hours, when a soul innocently devotes itself to a great feeling, may turn a man away from the straight path of duty, that lies nearest to him."

A golden light broke over his countenance. "But if it is found! It is only a small portion of our knowledge of ancient times that lies concealed in it. And yet it is just this discovery that would pour a flood of light upon a landscape hovering in twilight, and several decades of ancient life would become visible to our eyes with as distinct an outline as if they lay in a nearer past. The discovery would solve a hundred doubts, and excite a thousand new ones. Every later generation would rejoice in the great gain, and would seek, with revived energy, for new disclosures. Even for her, who at the castle shares so warm-heartedly in my anxieties, I wish the pleasure of this discovery. To her also it would be forever a great remembrance, that she had taken a kindly interest in the first labors of the searcher."

Higher rose the mountains and more brilliant became the coloring of their masses. The line of hills in the foreground stood forth from the misty distance; blue glimpses of the valley were visible through the openings of the dark wood. The carriage rolled through a well-preserved forest; a thick growth of firs and pines shut out the prospect for a time; when the road led again into the open country, through grassy meadows and groups of trees, the castle lay straight before the eyes of the scholar. A massive, old-fashioned tower crowned with pinnacles rose out of a low wood; the afternoon sun shone above, its rays forming long streaks in the vaporous atmosphere. The brown walls stood out in the lonely landscape, like the last pillar of a gigantic ruined castle; only by the fresh-looking stone mullions of the well-fitted windows did one perceive that it was a habitable abode. Adjoining the tower rose the small chateau, with steeply-sloped roof and pointed windows; in its moderate dimensions it formed a strange contrast to its massive companion; but in spite of the disproportion of the parts the whole formed a stately relic of the middle ages. One could well see that its walls had afforded shelter and defense to many generations.

The tendrils of the wild vine twined up to the roof of the house and round the windows of the tower, which rose in seven stories, supported by strong buttresses. Thyme and grass grew above in the crevices of the crumbling stone, but the grass which a few days ago had covered the ground had been pulled up and the court and doors festively adorned for the new occupants. Banks of flowers and plants in pots were placed around in profusion. There was only one corner in which the hasty work had not been finished, and the remains of mossy green on the ground, and a swarm of blackbirds that fluttered round the tower, showed that the building had stood uninhabited in a lonely country.

The Professor sprang from the carriage, the Marshal greeted him from the balustrade, and led him into the unpretentious guest-chamber. Shortly after he conducted him through a vaulted passage of the castle to the tower. The Princess, who had just returned from a walk, was standing, with her summer hat in her hand, at the entrance of the tower.

"Welcome to my Solitude," she said; "happy be the hour in which this old mansion opens its doors to you. Here you stand at the entrance of my realm. I have made myself at home in almost every part of the tower; it is our female fortress. When these solid oak doors are closed we ladies can found an Amazonian kingdom, and without danger fire fir-cones upon the whole male world, for this is the fruit that flourishes best here. Come, Mr. Werner, I will take you to the place where your thoughts linger more willingly than with children of the present."

A winding stone staircase connected the stories of the tower, each of which contained rooms and closets; the highest was a loft. The Princess pointed mysteriously to the staircase.

"Yonder at the top, below the rafters," said the Princess to the Professor, "the whole space is crammed with old household furniture. I could not restrain my curiosity, so yesterday I just peeped into the room; the things lie heaped up in wild confusion; we shall have much work."

The Professor examined with pleasure the well-preserved stone-work of the arched doors and the artistic work of the old-time lock-smith. Little had been done in modern times to make the walls look respectable or to repair damage; but any one who took interest in the chisel and carving tools of the old builders, might perceive everywhere with pleasure that the tower could easily be changed into a masterpiece of ancient style.

The servant opened the door into the Princess's rooms. These also were simply arranged. The broken painted glass of the small window had been repaired with panes coarsely painted; only fragments of the old pictures still adhered to the lead.

"There is still much to be done here," explained the Princess; "and we shall gradually have everything arranged within the next few years."

The clatter of the Castellan's keys were heard in the anteroom, and the Professor turned towards the door.

"One moment's patience," cried the Princess, and she flew into an adjoining room. She returned in a grey cloak with a hood, which enveloped her in its folds, only the delicate face, the large beaming eyes, and smiling mouth being visible.

"It is only in this gnome costume that I venture to approach the dusty spirits of the lumber-room."

They ascended to the highest story. While the Castellan was picking out the key from the bunch, the Professor eagerly examined the door, and remarked, "More beautiful mouldings by your old lock-smith."

"I have hopes," said the Princess.

"Everything looks that way," replied the learned man.

The heavy door creaked on its hinges, and a large room presented itself to the eyes of the searchers. A bright light shone through the narrow openings in the wall upon the mysterious apartment; atoms of dust were seen whirling about in the straight, shafts of air, while before and beyond all was confusion wrapt in semidarkness. Old furniture was piled up in hopeless confusion; gigantic wardrobes with broken doors, heavy tables with balls for feet, chairs with straight backs and leather cushions, from which the horsehair bristled out; together with fragments of old weapons, halberds, corroded greaves, and rusty helmets. Indistinct and vague, the forms appeared among each other: legs of chairs, flat pieces of wood with inlaid work, and heaps of old iron lying all around. It was a chaos of frippery, the artistic products of many centuries. Their hand touched the table at which a contemporary of Luther had sat; their foot pushed against a chest which had been broken open by Croats and Swede; or against the white lacquered chair, with moth-eaten velvet cushions, on which a court lady had once sat, in a hoop dress, with powdered hair. Now all lay together in desolate heaps, the cast-off husks of former generations, half destroyed and quite forgotten; empty chrysales, from which the butterflies had flown. All were covered with a grey shroud of dust-the last ashes of vanished life. What once had form and body, now, crushed into powder, whirled about in the air; clouds of dust opposed the entrance of those who came to disturb its possession; it hung to the hair and clothes of the living intruders, and glided slowly through the open door to the rooms, where varied colors and brilliant ornament surrounded the inmates, in order there to carry on the endless struggle of the past with the present-the quiet struggle that is daily renewed in great and small things which makes new things old, and finally dissolves the old in order that it may help to nourish the germ of youthful life.

The Professor glanced like a hawk amidst the legs of tables and chairs in the dusky background.

"Some things have lately been removed from here," he said; "there has been some sweeping among the furniture in the front."

"I yesterday endeavored to clean a little," said the Castellan, "because your Highness expressed a wish to enter here; but we have not gone far."

"Have you ever formerly examined the furniture in this room?" asked the Professor.

"No," replied the man. "I was only placed here last year by his Highness the Sovereign."

"Is there any catalogue of the things?" said the Professor.

The man said there was not.

"Do you know if there are chests or trunks here?"

"I think I have observed something of the kind," replied the Castellan.

"Fetch the workmen to move the things," ordered the Princess. "To-day every part of this attic shall be examined."

The Castellan hastened down. The Professor endeavored again to peep among the piled-up masses, but the glaring light from above dazzled his eyes. He looked at the princely child; she was standing in a costume of bright color at the door, like the fairy of the castle, who has ascended into the dwelling of the grey-bearded spirits of the house in order to accept their homage.

"It will be a long work, and your Highness will not like the dragging about of the dusty furniture."

"I will remain with you," exclaimed the Princess; "however contemptibly small may be my share in the discovery, I will not give it up."

Both were silent. The scholar moved about impatiently among the chairs. Moths fluttered in the clouds of dusty and a brown martin flew out from the nest which it had built in a corner of the window. All was still; there was no sound but a slight regular tapping, like a pendulum striking the hour, in the desolate room.

"That is the death-watch," whispered the Princess.

"The wood-worm is doing its work in the service of nature, it dissolves what is decayed, into its elements."

The sound ceased, but after a time began to tick again, then a second; they tapped and gnawed incessantly, down, down, and further down! Over the heads of the searchers the jackdaws were croaking, and further off the song of the nightingale sounded softly upon the labor of those who were unearthing the past.

The workmen came; they brought one article after another to the front of the room. Thicker rose the discoloring dust; the Princess took refuge in the anteroom, but the Professor did not leave his post. He worked hard himself, raising and arranging things in the front row. He went back for a moment to the door to take breath, the Princess received him laughing.

"You have undergone a complete transformation. You look as if you had been awaiting resurrection in this room, and I do not think I look much better."

"I see a chest," said the Professor, and hastened back. Another confused medley of chairs' legs and backs were lifted away, and the workmen laid hold of a little chest which stood in the dark. "Set it down," ordered the Castellan, who quickly passed a large brush over it. It was carried to the light and appeared to be a trunk of pine wood with an arched top; the oil color of the paint had disappeared in many places. There were iron clamps at the corners, and a rusty key that held fast the staple of the lock, but hung loosely in the wood. On the cover of the chest, which was dusty and worn, a black '2' was visible. The Professor had the chest put at the feet of the Princess. He pointed to the cipher.

"This is probably one of the chests that the official of Rossau sent to the castle Solitude," he said, with assumed composure, but his voice trembled.

The Princess knelt down and endeavored to raise the cover, the lock broke away from the wood, and the chest opened.