"The travellers roll through the world of men,Like rose leaves in a stream.The past will ne'er come back again,But fade into a dream."--B. S. INGEMANN.
The following day, the last before Otto's departure, whilst he andWilhelm were walking in the garden, Sophie approached them with agarland made of oak-leaves: this was intended for Otto; they werenow really to lose him.
"Sophie will scarcely be up so early to-morrow morning," saidLouise; "she is, therefore, obliged to present her garland to-day.I am never missing at the breakfast-table, as you well know; and Ishall then bring my bouquet."
"I shall preserve both until we meet again," returned Otto; "theyare vignettes to my beautiful summer-dream. When I again sit inCopenhagen, when the rain patters and the winter approaches withcold and a joyless sky, I shall still see before me Funen with itsgreen woods, flowers, and sunshine; it will appear to me that itmust still be so there, and that the garland and bouquet are onlywithered because they are with me in the winter cold."
"In Copenhagen we shall meet again!" said Sophie.
"And I shall see you again with the swallows!" said Louise, "whenmy flowers spring up again, when we have again warm summer days!As far as I am concerned, you belong to the summer, and not to thecold, calm winter."
Early on the following morning was Sophie, after all, at thebreakfast table. That was to honor Otto. Mamma showed herself asthe carriage was at the door. Wilhelm would accompany him as far asOdense. It was, therefore, a double leave taking, here and there.
"We will always remain friends, faithful friends!" said Wilhelm,when they parted.
"Faithful friends!" repeated Otto, and they rolled away towardMiddelfart; thus far should mamma's own carriage convey theexcellent Otto. Wilhelm remained behind in Odense; his coachmandrove Otto, and they discoursed upon the way. They passedVissenberg: the high, wooded hills there have received the name ofthe Funen Alps. The legend relates of robbers who had here deeppassages underneath the high-road, where they hung bells which rangwhen any one passed above. The inhabitants are still looked uponwith suspicion. Vissenberg appears a kind of Itri, betweenCopenhagen and Hamburg. [Author's Note: "Itri," Fra Diavolo'sbirthplace, lies in the Neapolitan States, on the highway betweenRome and Naples. The inhabitants are not, without reason, suspectedof carrying on the robber's trade.] Near the church there formerlylay a stone, on which Knud, the saint, is said to have restedhimself when flying from the rebellious Jutlanders. In the stoneremained the impression of where he had sat; the hard stone hadbeen softer than the hearts of the rebellious people.
This, and similar legends, the coachman knew how to relate; he wasborn in this neighborhood, but not in Vissenberg itself, where theymake the false notes. [Author's Note: A number of years ago a bandof men were seized in Vissenberg who had forged bank-notes.] Everylegend gains in interest when one hears it in the place with whichit is connected. Funen is especially rich in such relations.
"That cairn elevates itself at Christmas upon four red posts, andone can then see the dance and merriment of the goblins within.Through that peasant's farm there drives every night a glowingcoach, drawn by four coal-black horses. Where we now see a pondovergrown with reeds and roots there once stood a church, but itsank as the godless desecrated it; at midnight we still hear theirsighs, and hymns of repentance."
It is true that the narrator mixed up together certain leg-endswhich related to other places in the country--that he took littlesprings, and mingled his own thoughts with his relations; but Ottolistened to him with great interest. The discourse turned also uponthe family at the hall.
"Yes, they are very much liked!" said the coachman; "the gentlemanmay believe we know how to value them."
"And now, which of the young ladies is the best?" asked Otto.
"Yes, every one is best served by Miss Louise," returned thefellow.
"Miss Sophie is the prettiest," said Otto.
"Yes, she is also very good,--she belongs to the learned ones! Sheknows German, that she does! she can act comedy very excellently! Ionce got permission with the rest of the people to be up-stairs inthe sitting-room--we stood behind the family; she did not manageher affairs at all badly."
However much the old legends interested Otto, it seemed as thoughhe listened with more pleasure to the simple reasonings of thecoachman upon the family who were become so dear to him. Words andthoughts were busied about the objects there. Wilhelm, however, wasand still remained the dearest; he recollected with what mildnessWilhelm had stretched forth his hand in reconciliation, when hehimself had thrust him from him. Already the happy summer dayswhich he had spent at the country-seat, the whole visit, appeared abeautiful but short dream.
Otto felt an inward impulse to express his gratitude; his prideeven, which was a fundamental feature of his character, commandedhim to do this. Wilhelm's affection, his desire for a continuedfriendship, Otto thought he must reward; and on this account headded the following words to the few lines which he gave thecoachman before his passage over the Little Belt:--
"Wilhelm, in future we will say thou to each other; that is moreconfidential!" "He is the first to whom I have given my thou," saidOtto, when the letter was dispatched. "This will rejoice him: now,however, I myself have for once made an advance, but he deservesit."
A few moments later it troubled him. "I am a fool like the rest!"said he, and wished he could annihilate the paper. He was summonedon board. The Little Belt is only a river between the twocountries; he soon found himself upon Jutland ground; the whipcracked, the wheels turned round, like the wheels of fortune, upand down, yet ever onward.
Late in the evening he arrived at an inn. From his solitary chamberhis thoughts flew in opposite directions; now toward the solitarycountry-seat of his grandfather, among the sand-hills; now towardthe animated mansion in Funen, where the new friends resided. Hehad opened his box and taken out what lay quite at the top, thegarland of oak-leaves and the beautiful bouquet of flowers of thismorning.
Most people maintain that one dreams at night of that which one hasthought much about. According to this, Otto must have thought adeal about the North Sea, for of it he dreamed the whole night,--not of the young ladies.