A Noble Name; or, Dönninghausen. Claire von Glümer

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      "Dönninghausen, Dec. 19, 1873.

      "… I have been here just a fortnight to-day, and feel entirely at home. You cannot fancy how, after the sorrow and agitation through which I so lately passed, I am soothed and rested by the quiet life here, with its regular methodical occupations. I accompany my grandfather every morning in his rides to inspect his saw-mill, his wood-cutting, and his farms, and in the evening I read aloud to him the newspapers and magazines, an office silently transferred to me by Johann Leopold. In the course of the day I go with Aunt Thekla to see her poor people and the sick in the village, or we sew, or knit Christmas-presents for her protégées. Aunt Thekla is a gentle kindly soul. When Magelone awhile ago laughed at us for taking such pains to manufacture what could so easily be bought in any town, she said, 'You cannot imagine how I enjoy the thought that the work of my hands, which would else have nothing to do, may keep certain little feet warm as they run to school on some cold morning, or may help to make the winter less intolerable for the aged and bedridden.' Magelone could not understand this, or perhaps she did not choose to understand it. She is a puzzle to me; I cannot discover whether she is really superficial by nature, or whether she tries to become so. She wants to be entertained, amused, but every serious book tires her, all really fine music gives her the headache, although she is not frightened by technical difficulties, and in conversation she insists upon changing the subject if it turns upon anything save dress and society. Nevertheless, she is admirably endowed intellectually as well as physically, and the charm that she had for me when I first saw her has grown with time. There is something odd and striking about her that rivets one's interest. She is really short in stature, and yet her graceful lithe figure in her long trains seems that of a tall, slender woman; her hair is light brown or golden, according as the light falls on it; her eyes one would call blue, another gray, and a third green, and they would all be right; her smile is that of a child, but in an instant there will be something arch, mocking, even sneering, in it. One moment she will call me awkward, pedantic, the next I am her comfort, her stay, the friend for whom she has been longing. For a moment her whim will be enthusiasm, and on a sudden she will turn herself and everybody else into ridicule. Whether she enjoys doing this or not I cannot say; I suspect she hardly knows herself.

      "Johann Leopold's seeming indifference to her is very extraordinary. Although she tells me that she thinks him 'awfully tiresome,' she sometimes makes a brilliant display of coquetry in his honour, on which occasions he gazes at her with lack-lustre eyes, not smiling at all, and even, if possible, making no reply to her sallies. And these two are to marry each other. Can you understand it?

      "This morning I had a little adventure that gave me some insight into Johann Leopold's character; until then I really had not discovered in him one human emotion. Grandpapa had an attack of gout, consequently could not ride out, and was annoyed that his absence would delay some operations going on in the new clearing. I offered to ride thither with Martin; so I received my instructions and set forth.

      "Beyond the village, in the valley, we met a labourer's wife, who told me with tears that she was obliged to run to the drug-shop, at least a mile and a half distant, for some medicine for her sick husband, who must thus be left alone with a little girl only six years old. Of course I sent the woman back to her patient's bedside, despatching Martin upon her errand, and struck into my beloved forest-path up the mountain alone, or rather under Leo's protection.

      "I had never ridden in this direction except in grandpapa's company, when I had enjoyed immensely the grand old beeches at the beginning of the way, the views of the village of Dönninghausen, and of the opposite hills, which open out as the path ascends the mountain-side, leading to the most magnificent hemlocks that I have ever seen. Of the realm of magic and enchantment of which I dreamed as I looked at my mother's sketch of Dönninghausen I found no trace.

      "To-day, however, the forest-sprites seemed determined to lead me astray. Although, as far as I knew, I turned into the forest at the right point, the hemlocks would not appear. The path seemed uncommonly steep; on the left, crags which I СКАЧАТЬ