Villa Eden: The Country-House on the Rhine

The Wine-count's wife, a tall, stout woman, had not heard in vain that she looked like the Empress Maria Theresa. She was dressed to-day quite in her imperial style, and wore a splendid diadem of brilliants.

Sonnenkamp was presented to the bridal pair. The bridegroom looked very weary, but the bride, with her wreath of roses, very animated; much regret was expressed that Manna was not with the family at the fête.

The Court Marshal expressed his pleasure at meeting Herr Sonnenkamp again, and at making the acquaintance of his wife and of his handsome son, of whom he had heard so much. A glow was thrown over the whole evening, when he said rather loudly, with evident intention, that Sonnenkamp had been most honorably mentioned at the Prince's table, on the preceding day. Frau Ceres, still wearing her white cape over her richly ornamented dress, was seated next the Court marshal.

The Wine-chevalier, wearing several orders, was moving about among the company. He was a man of good manners, having been in constant intercourse with all the aristocracy of Europe. In the time of Napoleon, when he was a jovial travelling agent for his father's firm, he had been employed by the wary Metternich on several missions, which he had carried through with much skill. There was scarcely a French General whom he had not known, and he had even conversed twice with Napoleon himself.

The Wine-count had three sons and three daughters; the oldest daughter was already married to an officer of noble family. Of the three sons, one had disappeared in America, after having squandered large sums of money for his father; the second was a member of a theatre orchestra in a capital of middle Germany, and it was said he had written to his father that, for his part, he would not be ennobled. The third and oldest son was the Wine-chevalier, who had striven very eagerly for the honor of nobility, and was very happy in his success.

The Wine-count was most cordial in his manner; there was a remarkable elasticity in the movements of the slender, white-haired old man. He went from guest to guest, with an appropriate friendly word for each, and on all sides received double congratulations, for on this very day the Prince had ennobled him. He expressed his thanks very modestly, for he could assure himself that he might have attained this honor two years before, but at that time there was a certain patriotic vertigo abroad which had seized even a wine-grower. He answered all the congratulations by saying that the Prince's great kindness made him extremely happy.

Sonnenkamp kept smiling to himself, looking forward to the time when he would thus be courted also, and he prepared to receive the homage with modest thankfulness.

Frau Ceres sat in much discomfort next the Court Marshal, who left her to her own thoughts when he found that no conversation could be kept up. At last a pleasure came to her when the Cabinet minister's lady arrived, and expressed great pleasure at meeting her, as the Court Marshal gave his seat to her.

Still greater was Frau Ceres' happiness when Frau Bella also came up; even in this circle, where there were many of her equals, she seemed to take a leading position. She was very gracious to Frau Ceres, and begged her to take her arm to go into the garden-saloon, where the rich outfit of the bride was exhibited; there was a universal expression of admiration, and some glances of envy from those who returned from its examination.

Frau Ceres managed her long train very awkwardly, while Bella held hers up gracefully, and moved as if she were sailing through light clouds.

Sonnenkamp was greeted by the Russian Prince in a most friendly manner, and delighted at his shaking hands with him; but his pleasure was soon strewn with ashes, as the Prince said, —

"I forgot that you were to tell me some particulars of the treatment of the slaves; I'm afraid I shall not find any of them left, when I make up my mind to visit America."

He soon turned away, as the General was introduced to him. Sonnenkamp began to feel somewhat strange and neglected in the circle, but his countenance brightened as he saw Bella and Frau Ceres walking together so confidentially.

"You have hardly spoken to the Countess," he said to Eric.

"Ah, I'm thinking of something quite different," answered Eric. "I should like to hear our new Baron tell his servants: John, Peter, Michael, from this day you must address me as Gracious Herr, or Herr Baron. He must appear ridiculous to himself."

"Perhaps Doctor is a finer title," replied Sonnenkamp sharply; "or is that born with a person?"

Eric's remark irritated him, and he would have been glad to send him out of the company. But he suddenly became more amiable, as Bella approached and said to him,

"Do you know, Herr Sonnenkamp, what we are all really here for, and what this whole fête means? It is a christening feast, and our gracious Prince has played off a good joke. The Wine-dealer has striven for nobility so long, at last offering up his daughter as a sacrificial lamb, that the Prince could not help granting it to him at last. And isn't it good that he has given him the name Herr von Endlich? (At Last.)"

Then in a very amusing way she went on to describe how fine it would be if so old a candidate for baptism suddenly cried, I don't want that name, I want another.

Turning to Eric, she sketched the whole assemblage for him with apt, though somewhat malicious strokes. She ridiculed with most sarcasm a knot of young girls, who evidently could not forget the heavy weight of hair upon their heads, for the hair-dressers from the Baths and the Fortress had been hurrying, since early morning, from house to house, to deck out the girls' heads in proper company style. Bella mimicked the girls as they said to each other, "Please tell me if my chignon is still on."

With much merriment she pointed out a tall, lank Englishman, coming in sight with his stout wife and three slim daughters, who wore long curls and extraordinarily brilliant dresses. He lived in winter at the capital, in the summer at a country-seat, passing the time in angling, while his daughters were constantly drawing. He was considered very rich, and his wealth had a singular source; many years before, a brother of his wife had been sent to Botany Bay, and, being an experienced trader, had there succeeded in establishing a large export business, and laid the foundation of the family wealth.

Bella was full of charming humor, and Eric felt as if he had done her injustice. He had listened to the sharp judgment, the mental dissection, of Bella from the physician, when he ought to have contested it decidedly. He looked at her as if asking pardon for something, and she, well satisfied, showed a fresh cheerfulness, which was not wanting in magic power. She treated Eric with marked attention before the whole company.

Count Clodwig joined the group, and remarked that he was always surprised anew to see how many odd characters settled here on the banks of the Rhine. The Major stood apart and looked at Herr Sonnenkamp, as if he would say: I beg you, don't do this too; stay with us. It would be pleasanter to me than to give her the prettiest bon-bons which I shall carry home, to be able to say to Fräulein Milch, What they say about Herr Sonnenkamp isn't true! For again had Fräulein Milch penetrated the well-guarded mystery.

Eric pitied the Major, who looked unusually dull, and he succeeded in getting at the cause of his low spirits, for the Major said,

"It's just as if a Christian were to turn Turk! Ah, you may laugh, but Fräulein Milch is right. All that beautiful money, which has been earned with so much trouble, is now to be thrown away on the nobles, and we commoners may stand aside, and never have any more notice taken of us."

Eric silently pressed the Major's hand, and the latter asked: —

"But where's Roland?"

Indeed, where was Roland? He had vanished soon after their arrival, and was nowhere to be seen. The evening came on gradually, and wonderfully beautiful music from wind instruments was heard in the thick shrubbery; for a while, the guests in the garden were silent, and then it seemed as if the music made them only the more talkative. Eric looked for Roland, but no one could tell him anything of him.

The music ceased, and darkness gathered. On the balcony of the house appeared a trumpeter, in a costume of the middle ages, and sounded a call; the company repaired to the house, up the steps to the great hall and the adjoining rooms. Here a few seats were placed; in the foreground, two great arm-chairs, dressed with flowers, for the bride and bridegroom; behind them, a line of chairs for the oldest and most distinguished guests.

Frau Ceres was conducted to a seat near Bella; Fräulein Perini had managed very adroitly to get near her and pull gently at her cloak. Frau Ceres understood, and all eyes, which had been resting on the bridal pair, now turned to her. Such ornaments, imitating a wreath of wheat-ears of which each grain was a great diamond, such a dress, sown thick with pearls and diamonds, were never before seen; a long-continued murmur of applause ran through the assembly.

Frau Ceres stood by her chair, as if rooted to the spot, till Bella begged her to sit down; she looked smilingly at the splendid jewels: it was all very well for the American woman to put those on, but she couldn't put on such a neck and arms as her own.

Now it appeared that one of the walls of the room was only a curtain, which was presently drawn up. Vine-dressers were discovered, who sang and spoke praises of the family, and finally presented a myrtle crown.

The curtain fell, amidst the expressions of delight of the whole company, and as they were about to rise, a voice behind the curtain cried: —

"Remain seated!"

The curtain rose again, and, behind a thin gauze, Apollo was seen among shepherds and vine-dressers, and Apollo was Roland; the curtain had to be twice raised again, for all were enraptured with the tableau, and especially with Roland's god-like appearance. Bella nodded exultantly to Eric, who was standing apart; but he felt as if benumbed, as he asked himself what effect all this would have on Roland, and how Roland could have concealed it from him. It was not long before Roland joined the company in his ordinary dress; he was admired and praised on all sides, and nearly taken off his feet.

Frau Ceres was congratulated almost more than Roland, on her happiness in having a son of such divine beauty; repeated regrets were expressed that her daughter was not at the fête. Frau Ceres received all this most amiably, saying constantly: "I thank you most sincerely, you are very kind." Fräulein Perini had taught her her lesson.

New rooms were opened, where tables were spread, and the guests seated themselves.

Roland went to Eric.

"Are you the only one to say nothing to me?" he asked.

Eric was silent.

"Ah," Roland continued, "it has cost me much trouble to conceal anything from you, and still more to be attentive for these last few days, but I wanted to surprise you."

Eric recovered himself, and decided that it would be best not to lay much stress on the matter, so that it might be less likely to have any hurtful effect; he only warned Roland to be careful not to take too much wine. The boy was so full of happiness that he preferred to sit near Eric, to show him that he was moderate, rather than to take a seat which was reserved for him at the table of the bride.

Pranken, who, with the portrait painter's aid, had arranged the tableau, was in a state of singular excitement this evening, for the idea kept ringing in his head that he might have married the Wine-count's beautiful daughter; here was new-varnished nobility, to be sure, but everything was made sure of; here would be now an attractive widow, or, better still, an attractive unhappy wife. He drove the thoughts away, however, saying to himself that he loved Manna.

As a former comrade of the bridegroom, and as friend of the family, Pranken proposed the toast to the bridal pair; he spoke well, and in a humorous tone, as was best, and the company were well pleased.

The discharge of a cannon gave notice that the fireworks were beginning, and the guests betook themselves to the veranda and the garden.

CHAPTER X.

FIREWORKS AND THEN DARKNESS

Bella suddenly stood by Eric's side, without his noticing her approach.

"You are unusually grave to-day," she said in a low voice.

"I am not used to the confusion of such a fête."

"I always feel as if you would have something to say to me," she murmured lower.

Eric was silent, and Bella continued: —

"Does it seem to you as it does to me, when you see your nearest friend in a great assembly, as if you met in a strange land, or as if struggling in a river, in which you are drowning?"

"Ah! Bravo!" many voices cried suddenly. A flight of rockets was sent off, while music was heard, and a trumpet across the river took up the strain, and echoed it. Far away they saw the people from the towns and villages about, standing on the river-banks, their faces lighted by the glare.

"Ah," exclaimed Bella, as all was dark again, "we are all nothing but slaves! If we could live like that, that would be life indeed! to burn like that rocket in the free air, then come, darkness and death; ye are welcome!"

Eric trembled; he did not know how it happened, but he was holding Bella's hand fast in his.

Again bright fires rose from river and hills. It seemed as if all those people who were looking on from the distant shore must have seen Eric's hand in Bella's. Eric drew back with a start. The Prince came up, and Bella immediately took his arm. Eric was left alone, and as he saw Bella walking up and down the road before the house, leaning on the Prince's arm, he tried to recollect whether he had not said to her, I love you. It seemed to him that he had spoken aloud, and yet it could not be. Fire-wheels, the monogram of the bridal-pair, Roman-candles, were exhibited, and at last from a boat on the Rhine rose a great golden wine-flask, which burst in the air, and scattered a shower of sparkling drops of light. Music resounded, and from the shore a shout was heard, as if all the waves had found a voice.

Eric's brain reeled; he knew not where he was, nor who he was. Suddenly he felt an arm laid on his own: it was Clodwig. Eric would have liked to kneel before him, but he felt unworthy to utter a word, and he could only make an inward vow: I will send a bullet through my heart, rather than allow it ever again to thrill with this excitement.

Clodwig spoke of Roland, saying that he could not think it right or wise that he should be thrust into a sphere strange to him. Eric answered at random; Clodwig believed that he must know of the project, while Eric thought he was alluding to the military profession; and he seemed so distracted and inwardly excited, that Clodwig admonished his young friend to exert himself less strenuously, and not to torment himself needlessly.

Eric avoided saying good-night to Bella.

It was late when they drove back, in the same manner as they had come, except that the Cabinetsrath and his wife accompanied them, to spend the night at Villa Eden.

The Minister rode with Sonnenkamp, and the conversation naturally fell on the fête, and on the dissolution of the old and respected firm of wine dealers, since the Wine-count was now about to sell at auction his whole stock. The Minister's lady said that Bella had told her that she intended to write Eric's mother and aunt for a visit; Pranken pretended to know of this plan, but was inwardly very much surprised. Now that they were alone and need not be reserved with each other, the Minister's lady said emphatically, that no one could bring about the conferring of the new dignity on Herr Sonnenkamp more easily and simply than the Professor's widow. It was not exactly decided upon, but it was hinted to Herr Sonnenkamp, that he might establish the first claim of hospitality by inviting the ladies to Villa Eden.

Sonnenkamp smiled to himself, for he had a further plan of making Frau Dournay useful: the General had said several times that she was a trusted friend of his sister, the Superior of the island convent; here were the wires to be pulled.

In the third carriage Eric rode again with Roland; they sat silent for a long time, as the carriage rolled slowly on. At last a voice called out: —

"Good evening, Herr Captain!"

Eric ordered the driver to stop; it was Claus's son, the cooper, who was walking along the wood. He brought Eric a greeting from Master Knopf at Mattenheim, and said that he had been there with a message from his father, asking Knopf to appear before the jury the next day, as a witness in his defence. Roland rubbed his eyes, and looked about him as if he were in a strange world. He asked the cooper to get into the carriage with them. The cooper thanked him, but declined, and went on to say how wonderful it had been, as he came over the hills from Mattenheim, to see, just as he left the woods, the strange fires mounting to heaven from the Rhine far below, and he had stood just where the rocks echoed the cannon. He held out his hand to Eric, but not to Roland.

As the two drove on again, Roland said:

"Then Claus has heard the cannon in his prison, and perhaps he saw the fireworks too. Ah, he has not a single dog to speak to near him. I've often been sorry that he had to wander about so constantly through the fields by day and night, but now he must long for that old weariness. And while he sits there in prison, everything is growing outside, and the thieves of hares and foxes know, that no one knows their burrows so well as he: and I do believe he is innocent. Ah, why must there be poor, unhappy men; why can't the whole world be happy?" For the first time, Eric saw that he must advise Roland not to say anything to his father of these thoughts, about the huntsman, and about the poor and unfortunate.

Eric felt quite satisfied that all the praise Roland had received for his appearance as Apollo had done no harm.

CHAPTER XI.

A REPRESSED HEART

"What are we, when judged by our most secret thoughts?"

So had Eric written in answer to a dainty note which Bella had written to him. She had requested him to send the coat in which she had painted him, as something peculiar in its cut had yet to be introduced, in order to give the finishing touch to the portrait. The way in which she had signed her name startled Eric; there was her name, Bella, but instead of her surname, an interrogation point between two brackets. She had scratched this out, as if thinking better of it, but it was still to be perceived.

She put the coat upon the lay-figure in her studio; it affected her strangely, and she stood there now, with her hand placed upon the shoulder of the figure.

"What are we, judged by our most secret thoughts?" had Eric written, and it seemed now as if the words came from the mouth of the model before her.

Bella shuddered, and was seized with a deadly trembling, for as she stood there with her gaze fastened upon the floor, and her hand laid upon the garment of the man not her husband, it seemed to her as if she should sink to the earth. At this instant, her whole life unfolded itself to her view.

The days of childhood – there was no definite image of these. The teachers praised her quick comprehension; a French bonne was dismissed, and a strict English governess received into the family; Bella learned languages easily, and good manners seemed natural to her. Her smart repartees, when she was very young, were repeated admiringly, and this flattered her vanity, and extinguished all childish ingenuousness.

Ladies and gentlemen visiting the house, or meeting her casually in different places, praised her beauty in her hearing. She was confirmed, but the holy ceremony appeared to her only as the sign of her deliverance from the nursery, when she must lay aside her short dresses and put on long ones; and when going up to the altar, the thought which predominated in her was, Thou art the fairest one. As the bishop had taken tea the evening before with her parents, he was not to her a supernatural being as to the rest, for he had spoken familiarly with her, and she appeared to herself to be, in the church, the central point of all observation.

Her father yielded to her wishes, and Bella, at fourteen years of age, was introduced the next winter into society. She made a brilliant appearance, and was much courted; everybody spoke with admiration of the air of fresh youth that hovered around her. But she early exhibited a sort of coldness, so that she was nicknamed the mer-maiden, and in her eye there was what might be called a cold fire. Even the reigning Prince singled her out. She still kept the engagement-card of her first court-ball as a sacred relic, and with it a withered bouquet.

Now followed an unbroken chain of homage and attention. Bella, with her ready and apt replies, was the life of the circle in which she moved. While yet a child, her beauty had been praised in her own hearing, and now that she was a woman, her remarkable mental powers were extolled, either directly or indirectly, so that she was sure to be informed of it. Her striking remarks and keen criticisms were quoted, and her witticisms passed around. In this way she had acquired the reputation of great knowledge, which, with her spirited piano playing, and above all, her skill in painting, caused her to be regarded as a social wonder, and to be held up as a pattern to many a young girl who came out after her in society.

Before she was sixteen, she had refused many offers of marriage, and she smiled when she heard of the betrothal of one and another, for she could say, You could have married this man, if you had wished to. Her mother would have been glad to have her married young, but her father was not willing that his child should be separated from him so early; he hoped that some prince of the collateral branch would unite himself with her in marriage.

Her seventeenth birthday was ushered in by a morning serenade from the band of the Guards, and congratulations poured in from all sides; but if she could have been seen then, as the tones of the music awakened her from sleep, and a new thought stirred within her, her large eyes would have presented a look different from any ever seen in them before. The thought was, I have no belief in love. All this singing and talking of the power of love is nonsensical romance! Her mother's teaching had contributed not a little to produce this conviction; she had early uprooted the influences of love, perpetually representing to her daughter that the main thing was, to make a brilliant match; and Bella, in fact, had never loved any one, for she insisted upon the submission of him towards whom she felt any preference. From one of her mother's cousins she heard suggestions of an opposite nature; she frequently said, half satirically and half seriously, that the only right love was that directed towards a man of a lower condition. If you should love the artist in whose studio you work, or your teacher of music or of language, that would be genuine love. But it seemed to Bella as if any special attachment to a teacher was like entertaining a love for a livery-servant, or even for a being of a different species, and choosing him for a husband.

On that seventeenth birthday, there was perceptible, for the first time, that cold, glassy, Medusa-look, which regarded men with indifference, as if they were nothing but shadows; but no one remarked it, and it seemed as if on that day something was paralyzed within her which would never again feel the stirrings of life.

Before she was twenty, after the year of mourning for her father had elapsed, with feelings already cold and benumbed, Bella withdrew from society, entering it only occasionally, as if she were performing a burdensome duty. She studied, she painted, she practised music, she occupied herself with artists, scholars, and statesmen; and she wore a constant rigidity of countenance and look, except when she was flinging around her criticisms, which always produced a greater impression from the fact that her deep, masculine voice was in striking contrast with her feminine appearance.

It created considerable excitement, when it was understood that Bella had removed the opposition of her parents to her younger sister's marrying before her. Bella stood before the altar by the side of her sister, and through her sister's bridal veil she saw the dark brown eye of the Adjutant General, who had been recently made a widower, fixed upon herself. She moved her lips slightly, saying to herself with self-rejoicing pride. You will woo me in vain. She took delight in wounding, disturbing, breaking hearts, by turns enticing and then repelling them. She had said to her father, I should be glad to marry, if one can like to do what one cannot bring his mind to do; but to stand up before the altar and say yes, for life and for death! – I was frightened when I heard my sister say that, and I thought that I must cry out, "No! No! No!" And I do not answer for myself, that I should not involuntarily say no.