"Thou art master in thy world.Hast thou thyself, then thou hast all!"--WAHLMANN.
In the summer of 1834 the friends had been absent for two years. Inthe last year, violet-colored gillyflowers had adorned a grave inthe little country church-yard.
"A heart which overflowed with love,Was gone from earth to love and God,"
were the words which might be read upon the grave-stone.
A withered bouquet of stocks had been found by Louise, with thecertificate of Eva's birth and her hymn-book. These were theflowers which Wilhelm had given her that evening at Roeskelde.Among the dry leaves there lay a piece of paper, on which she hadwritten,--"Even like these flowers let the feelings die away in mysoul which these flowers inspire it with!"
And now above her grave the flowers which she had loved sent forththeir fragrance.
It was Sunday; the sun shone warm; the church-goers, old and young,assembled under the great lime-tree near Eva's grave. They expectedtheir young preacher, who to-day was to preach for the third time.
The gentlefolks would also certainly be there, they thought,because the young Baron was come back out of foreign parts, andwith him the other gentleman, who certainly was to have MissLouise.
"Our new preacher is worth hearing," said one of the peasant women;"such a young man, who actually preaches the old faith! as gentleand as meek in conversation as if he were one of ourselves! And inthe pulpit, God help us! it went quite down into my legs the lasttime about the Day of Judgment!"
"There is Father!" [Note: The general term applied to the preacherby the Danish peasants.] exclaimed the crowd, and the heads of oldand young were uncovered. The women courtesied deeply as a youngman in priest-robes went into the church-door. His eyes and lipsmoved to a pious smile, the hair was smooth upon his pale forehead.
"Good day, children!" said he.
It was Hans Peter. He had, indeed, had "the best characters," andthus had received a good living, and now preached effectively aboutthe devil and all his works.
The singing of the community sounded above the grave where the sunshone, where the stocks sent forth their fragrance, and where Evaslept: she whose last wish was to live.
"There is no love i' th' grave below,No music, warmth, or pleasure."
The earth lay firm and heavy upon her coffin-lid.
During the singing of the second hymn a handsome carriage drove upbefore the church-yard. The two friends, who were only justreturned to their home in Denmark, entered the church, togetherwith the mother and Louise.
Travelling and two years had made Wilhelm appear somewhat older;there was a shadow of sadness in his otherwise open and life-rejoicingcountenance. Otto looked handsomer than formerly; the gloomyexpression in his face was softened, he looked around cheerfully,yet thoughtfully, and a smile was on his lips when he spoke withLouise.
There was in the sermon some allusion made to those who hadreturned home; for the rest, it was a flowery discourse interlardedwith many texts from the Bible. The community shed tears; the good,wise people, they understood it to mean that their young lord wasreturned home uninjured from all the perils which abound in foreignlands.
The preacher was invited to dinner at the hall. The Kammerjunkerand Sophie came also, but it lasted "seven long and seven wide," asMiss Jakoba expressed herself, before they could get through allthe unwrapping and were ready to enter the parlor, for they hadwith them the little son Fergus, as he was called, after thehandsome Scotchman in Sir Walter Scott's "Waverley." That wasSophie's wish. The Kammerjunker turned the name of Fergus toGusseman, and Jacoba asserted that it was a dog's name.
"Now you shall see my little bumpkin!" said he, and brought in asquare-built child, who with fat, red cheeks, and round arms,stared around him. "That is a strong fellow! Here is something totake hold of! Tralla-ralla-ralla!" And he danced him round theroom.
Sophie laughed and offered her hand to Otto.
Wilhelm turned to Mamsell. "I have brought something for you," saidhe, "something which I hope may find a place in the work-box--a manmade of very small mussel-shells; it is from Venice."
"Heavens! from all that way off!" said she and courtesied.
After dinner they walked in the garden.
Wilhelm spoke already of going the following year again to Paris.
"Satan!" said the Kammerjunker. "Nay, I can do better with Mr.Thostrup. He is patriotic. He lays out his money in an estate. Itis a good bargain which you have made, and in a while will bebeautiful; there is hill and dale."
"There my old Rosalie shall live with me," said Otto; "there shewill find her Switzerland. The cows shall have bells on theirnecks."
"Lord God! shall they also be made fools of?" exclaimed Jakoba:"that is just exactly as if it were Sophie."
They went through the avenue where Otto two years before had wept,and had related all his troubles to Louise. He recollected it, anda gentle sigh passed his lips whilst his eyes rested on Louise.
"Now, do you feel yourself happy at home?" asked she; "a loveliersummer's day than this you certainly have not abroad."
"Every country has its own beauties," replied Otto. "Our Denmark isnot a step child of Nature. The people here are dearest to me, forI am best acquainted with them. They, and not Nature, it is thatmakes a land charming. Denmark is a good land; and here also will Ilook for my happiness." He seized Louise's hand; she blushed, andwas silent. Happy hours succeeded.
This circle assembled every Sunday; on the third, their delight wasgreater, was more festal than on any former occasion.
Nature herself had the same expression. The evening was mostbeautiful; the full moon shone, magnificent dark-blue clouds raisedthemselves like mountains on the other side the Belt. Afar offsailed the ships, with every sail set to catch the breeze.
Below the moon floated a coal-black cloud, which foretold a squall.
A little yacht went calmly over the water. At the helm sat a boy--half a child he seemed: it was Jonas, the little singing-bird, asWilhelm had once called him. Last Whitsuntide he had beenconfirmed, and with his Confirmation all his singer-dreams were atan end: but that did not trouble him; on the contrary, it had lainvery heavy upon his heart that he was not to be a fifer. Hishighest wish had been to see himself as a regimental fifer, andthen he should have gone to his Confirmation in his red uniform,with a sabre at his side, and a feather in his hat half as tallas himself. Thus adorned, he might have gone with the girls intothe King's Garden and upon the Round Tower, the usual walk for poorchildren in Copenhagen. On Confirmation-day they ascend the hightower, just as if it were to gain from it a free view over theworld. Little Jonas, however, was confirmed as a sailor, and he nowsat at the helm on this quiet night.
Upon the deck lay two persons and slept; a third went tranquilly upand down. Suddenly he shook one of the sleepers, and caught hold onthe sail. A squall had arisen with such rapidity and strength, thatthe vessel in a moment was thrown on her side. Mast and sail werebelow the water. Little Jonas uttered a shriek. Not a vessel waswithin sight. The two sleepers had woke in time to cling to themast. With great force they seized the ropes, but in vain; thesail hung like lead in the water. The ship did not right herself.
"Joseph, Maria!" exclaimed one of them, a man with gray hairs andunpleasing features. "We sink! the water is in the hold!"
All three clambered now toward the hinder part of the vessel, wherea little boat floated after. One of them sprang into it.
"My daughter!" cried the elder, and bent himself toward the narrowentrance into the cabin. "Sidsel, save thy life!" and so saying, hesprang into the boat.
"We must have my daughter out," cried he. One of the ship's cabinwindows was under water; he burst in the other window.
"We are sinking!" cried he, and a horrible scream was heard within.
The old man was German Heinrich, who was about to come with thisvessel from Copenhagen to Jutland: Sidsel was his daughter, andtherefore he wished now to save her life a second time.
The water rushed more and more into the ship. Heinrich thrust hisarm through the cabin-window, he grasped about in the water within;suddenly he caught hold on a garment, he drew it toward him; but itwas only the captain's coat, and not his daughter, as he had hoped.
"The ship sinks!" shrieked the other, and grasped wildly on therope which held the boat fast: in vain he attempted to divide itwith his pocket-knife. The ship whirled round with the boat andall. Air and water boiled within it, and, as if in a whirlpool, thewhole sunk into the deep. The sea agitated itself into strongsurges over the place, and then was again still. The moon shonetranquilly over the surface of the water as before. No wreckremained to tell any one of the struggle which there had been withdeath.
The bell tolled a quarter past twelve; and at that moment the lastlight at the hall was extinguished.
"I will go to Paris," said Wilhelm, "to my glorious Switzerland;here at home one is heavy-hearted; the gillyflowers on the gravehave an odor full of melancholy recollections. I must breathe themountain air; I must mingle in the tumult of men, and it is quitethe best in the world."
Otto closed his eyes; he folded his hands.
"Louise loves me," said he. "I am so happy that I fear some greatmisfortune may soon meet me; thus it used always to be. WhilstGerman Heinrich lives I cannot assure myself of good! If he wereaway, I should be perfectly tranquil, perfectly happy!"
THE END.
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