On the Heights. Auerbach Berthold

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СКАЧАТЬ the first serious reprimand to Mademoiselle Kramer. She could not understand why she was so willing to make an exhibition of the child. "Nothing does a child more harm than to let strangers look at it in its sleep, and a tailor at that."

      All the wild fun with which, in popular songs, tailors are held up to scorn and ridicule, found vent in Walpurga, and she began singing:

      "Just list, ye braves, who love to roam!

      A snail was chasing a tailor home,

      And if Old Shears hadn't run so fast,

      The snail would surely have caught him at last."

      Mademoiselle Kramer's acquaintance with the court tailor had lowered her in Walpurga's esteem, and with an evident effort to mollify the latter, she asked:

      "Does the idea of your new and beautiful clothes really afford you no pleasure?"

      "To be frank with you, no! I don't wear them for my own sake, but for that of others, who dress me to please themselves. It's all the same to me, however! I've given myself up to them, and suppose I must submit."

      "May I come in?" asked a pleasant voice. Countess Irma entered the room. Extending both her hands to Walpurga, she said:

      "God greet you, my countrywoman! I am also from the Highlands, seven hours distance from your village. I know it well, and once sailed over the lake with your father. Does he still live?"

      "Alas! no; he was drowned, and the lake hasn't given up its dead."

      "He was a fine-looking old man, and you are the very image of him."

      "I am glad to find some one else here who knew my father. The court tailor--I meant the court doctor--knew him, too. Yes, search the land through, you couldn't have found a better man than my father, and no one can help but admit it."

      "Yes: I've often heard as much."

      "May I ask your ladyship's name?"

      "Countess Wildenort."

      "Wildenort? I've heard the name before. Yes, I remember my mother's mentioning it. Your father was known as a very kind and benevolent man. Has he been dead a long while?"

      "No, he is still living."

      "Is he here, too?"

      "No."

      "And as what are you here, Countess?"

      "As maid of honor."

      "And what is that?"

      "Being attached to the queen's person; or what, in your part of the country, would be called a companion!"

      "Indeed! And is your father willing to let them use you that way?"

      Countess Irma, who was somewhat annoyed by her questions, said:

      "I wished to ask you something--can you write?"

      "I once could, but I've quite forgotten how."

      "Then I've just hit it! that's the very reason for my coming here. Now, whenever you wish to write home, you can dictate your letter to me, and I will write whatever you tell me to."

      "I could have done that, too," suggested Mademoiselle Kramer, timidly; "and your ladyship would not have needed to trouble yourself."

      "No, the countess will write for me. Shall it be now?"

      "Certainly."

      But Walpurga had to go to the child. While she was in the next room, Countess Irma and Mademoiselle Kramer engaged each other in conversation.

      When Walpurga returned, she found Irma, pen in hand, and at once began to dictate.

      "Dear husband, dear mother, and dear child. No, stop! don't write that! Take another sheet of paper. Now I've got it, now you can go on."

      "I wish to let you know, that by the help of God, I arrived here safe and sound, in the carriage with the four horses. I don't know how. And the queen's an angel, and there were millions of lights, and my child--"

      Walpurga covered her face with both hands--she had said "my child," without knowing which child she meant.

      A pause ensued.

      "And my child," said Countess Irma, repeating the words after her.

      "No!" exclaimed Walpurga, "I can't write to-day. Excuse me; there's no use trying. But you've promised to write for me to-morrow or the day after. Do come and see us every day."

      "And shall I bring a good friend with me?"

      "Of course; any friend of yours will be welcome. Isn't it so. Mademoiselle Kramer?"

      "Certainly; Countess Irma has special permission."

      "I'll bring a very good friend with me; she can sing charmingly, and her voice is soft and gentle--but I'll not torment you with riddles; I play the zither, and will bring mine with me."

      "You play the zither?" exclaimed Walpurga, scarcely able to contain herself for joy.

      Any further expressions on her part were prevented by the presence of the king, who entered at that moment.

      With a gentle inclination of the head, he greeted Countess Irma, who had risen from her seat and bowed so low that it seemed as though she meant to sit down on the floor.

      "What are you writing?" asked the king.

      "Walpurga's secrets, may it please Your Majesty," replied Countess Irma.

      "The king may read all that's there," said Walpurga, handing him the sheet.

      He hurriedly ran his eye over it, and then, with a glance at the countess, folded it and put it in his breast pocket.

      "I shall sing with Walpurga," said Irma, "and Your Majesty will again observe that music is the highest good on earth. Singing together, Walpurga and I are equals. The creations of other arts, poetry especially, may be translated by every one into his own language, according to the measure of his knowledge and experience."

      "Quite true," replied the king; "music is the universal language, the only one that requires no translation, and in which soul speaks to soul."

      While they were thus talking, Walpurga stared at them in dumb amazement.

      The king, accompanied by Countess Irma, looked at the prince for a little while, and then, having said: "The christening will take place next Sunday," he withdrew.

      It was with a strange expression that Walpurga's eyes followed the king and then rested in earnest gaze upon Countess Irma.

      The countess busied herself with the papers, and then, with cheerful voice, took leave of Walpurga. Her cheerfulness almost seemed constrained, for she laughed while there was nothing to laugh at.

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