The Romance of the Canoness. Paul Heyse

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СКАЧАТЬ a few horse-lengths ahead of my vehicle, I was so happy in the thought of my God that I seemed to myself like King David, and my great wooden trunk the ark of the covenant, and could scarcely refrain from falling into a dancing step and letting the hymns I was singing in my heart escape my lips.

      Yet I was glad when the two hours and "p'raps a bit more" were over, and old Krischan, pointing with his whip to the roof of a tower, visible between the lofty elms in the avenue, muttered between his teeth: "Here we are!"

      I had made several vain efforts on the way to question him about the lord of the castle and his family. I had learned nothing except that the baron was "a bit strict," and the old baroness "always very kind and gracious." Of the heir he only uttered a significant hum! and of the pastor merely said, "He's poorly just now." So my curiosity and impatience increased with every step the horses took in the grinding sand; and, as the rural charms of which I had dreamed were nowhere visible, the village through which I passed differed in no respect from an utterly unattractive Mark hamlet, and the few women and children who stared at me from the doors of the houses appeared extremely indifferent to the great event of my arrival, I climbed back with a sigh into the cart as we turned into the avenue and traversed the rest of the way at a trot.

      We drove directly up to the castle, which looked very stately through the bare branches, and, as the road at last passed over a slight ascent, the horses relapsed into their former comfortable walk. Yet we overtook a queer little cart, to which the--according to the Mark ideas--considerable hill gave more trouble than to us.

      A very old woman had harnessed herself and a spotted dog to a small hand-cart, heavily laden with a large, well-filled sack, several bundles of fagots, and various utensils and tools, the whole, tied together with old ropes, towering so high aloft that the swaying structure could scarcely keep its balance. The little dog's red tongue was hanging out of its mouth, and the old dame panted and coughed as she bent under the drawing-rope, which cut deep into her shoulder. Spite of her four-footed assistant, she could scarcely have pulled the load up-hill, had not a vigorous push from behind aided her. This was given by a tall, slender figure, a young lady dressed in city style, who, with both hands braced against the back, walked firmly on, relieving the toiling pair of half the weight.

      As we passed she merely turned her face toward us for a moment without the slightest change of expression. I could not see her features distinctly, owing to the shifting play of the shadows cast by the bare branches above, but I perceived that the face was young and grave. It made a singular impression on me, though she flashed but a single glance at me and then instantly lowered her eyes. I noticed too that her smoothly brushed hair, over which she had knotted a black kerchief, was of a remarkable dark golden hue, somewhat similar to amber. I perceived also that she wore a blue polonaise of rather old-fashioned cut, trimmed with a narrow border of gray fur. Then the old vehicle was left behind, and I did not venture to look back.

      "That's the Canoness!" said Krischan, who had taken his pipe out of his mouth and lifted his cap respectfully; "and the old one is Mother Lieschen."

      "The Canoness!" I repeated in surprise. "Has the baron so old a daughter?"

      "No, sir. The baron's daughter is only fourteen. She's Fräulein Leopoldine. But the Canoness--hi!"

      He urged on his bays with a loud crack of the whip, for we were just turning out of the avenue into the castle court-yard. I was obliged to repress my curiosity for the present.

      The castle really did honor to its name. It was a very large building, dating back from the commencement of the previous century, with a lofty lower story, to which led a double flight of broad steps, above which was a second story richly decorated with stucco ornaments--a style, however, that did not exactly harmonize with the peaked roof and irregular attic windows. From this central building a wing extended at right angles on the left almost to the avenue of elms, while the right wing, which, as I afterward learned, had been destroyed by a great fire, was replaced by a clumsy square tower three stories high. Yet this tower bore above its four gables a gigantic cupola, garnished with pinnacles and battlements of all sorts, which gave it an air of chivalrous boldness.

      A servant in a light-green livery received me at the top of the steps, said that his master was expecting me, and ushered me into the house with condescending familiarity, as if he considered me a sort of colleague. The cool, dim hall paved with tiles, the broad stone staircase, the antlers that adorned the walls, the numerous servants of both sexes, who were peeping curiously from different doors, produced a strong impression upon me, though I secretly regretted the absence of a more formal reception by my future patron's assembled family. But I consoled myself with the thought that this was the genuine aristocratic demeanor, and resolved to maintain my own dignity and command the respect due my ecclesiastical character even from high-born laymen.

      Meantime I had climbed the steep stairs to the highest story in the tower till I was fairly out of breath. But when I entered the apartment the footman showed me as mine, I was instantly reconciled to the quarters gained by the toilsome ascent. It was a corner room with four wide, almost square windows, which afforded a most superb view, over the tops of the trees in the avenue, of fields and moorland, forest and farms, and the village houses gathered about the handsome village church like a flock of chickens around the clucking hen. The whole scene was steeped in the brightest noonday sunlight, and filmy bluish clouds floated from the chimneys of the low straw-thatched roofs, pierced by single sunbeams, and swayed to and fro by a fresh April breeze.

      Dinner would be served in fifteen minutes, the servant said. Did the Herr Candidate want anything? I asked for my trunks, and had just time to brush the dust of my journey from my clothing, when a big, hollow-sounding bell, which roused a welcome echo in my empty stomach, began to ring in the hall below.

      I cast one more glance into the tiny mirror, which, like the rest of the furniture, did not produce a very magnificent impression, and, after having combed my hair smoothly, and pushed my long locks neatly behind my ears, descended the steep tower-stairs, spite of the consciousness of my ecclesiastical dignity, with a somewhat quickened pulsation of the heart.

      The dining-room was on the lower floor, directly behind the entrance-hall, a vaulted apartment, whose four high windows looked out upon the garden. The wide glass door in the center opened on a small terrace, from which a few steps led to the flower-beds. But I did not notice all this at my first entrance, as my whole interest was engrossed by the various persons who were assembled.

      A tall, extremely dignified gentleman, with very handsome, regular features, and mustache and whiskers cut in military fashion, came up to me, held out his well-kept hand, and said, in a voice whose musical tones he himself seemed to enjoy: "May the Lord bless your coming and going, Herr Candidate!"

      I bowed silently, and was led to a little lady attired in a black silk dress and a large white lace cap, who sat in the depths of a tall arm-chair.

      "Here, my dear Elizabeth," said the baron, "I present to you Candidate Johannes Weissbrod, who, with God's blessing, will aid us in the education of our Achatz! Achatz!" he called, turning to a pale-faced boy, evidently backward in mental development, who stood giggling with a tall young girl at the other end of the hall. The lad came slowly forward, eying me askance with mingled shyness and defiance, and only at his father's repeated desire gave me a thin yellow hand. I noticed at the first glance the striking resemblance between him and his mother. The latter was remarkably plain; she had a shrunken, withered face, which strongly reminded me of old General Zieten, to whom, I afterward learned, the baroness was distantly related. Even a little Hussar mustache was not lacking, and the sight of the tiny witch-like scarecrow was so melancholy, especially by the side of her husband's stately figure, that in my first confusion I actually forgot the fine speech with which I had intended to present myself, and could only bow silently and kiss the diminutive hand the little specter extended to me.

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