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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Cross, by Wilhelmine von Hillern
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: On the Cross
+       A Romance of the Passion Play at Oberammergau
+
+Author: Wilhelmine von Hillern
+
+Translator: Mary J. Safford
+
+Release Date: July 15, 2011 [EBook #36725]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE CROSS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+   1. Page scan source:
+      http://www.archive.org/details/oncrossaromance00saffgoog
+
+   2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "_Accursed be the hour I raised you from the dust to my
+side_."--Page 339]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                              ON THE CROSS
+
+
+                                   A
+                     Romance of the Passion Play at
+                              Oberammergau
+
+
+
+                                   BY
+                         Wilhelmine von Hillern
+                                  AND
+                            Mary J. Safford
+
+
+
+
+                        DREXEL BIDDLE, PUBLISHER
+                              PHILADELPHIA
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                            Copyright, 1902
+
+                                   BY
+
+                       ANTHONY J. DREXEL BIDDLE.
+
+                               *   *   *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+             PRESS OF DREXEL BIDDLE, PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                   TO
+
+                         HERR JOHANNES DIEMER,
+
+      THE RENOWNED DELIVERER OF THE PROLOGUE IN THE PASSION PLAYS
+          OF THE LAST DECADE, A TRUE SON OF AMMERGAU, IN WHOSE
+            UNASSUMING PERSON DWELLS THE CALM, DEEP SOUL OF
+             THE ARTIST, THE LOYAL SYMPATHIZING FRIEND, IN
+                 WHOSE PEACEFUL HOME I FOUND THE QUIET
+                   AND THE MOOD I NEEDED TO COMPLETE
+                    THIS WORK, IT IS NOW DEDICATED,
+                        WITH GRATEFUL ESTEEM, BY
+
+                                              THE AUTHORESS.
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS.
+
+
+Introduction.
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+
+A Phantom.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+
+Old Ammergau.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+
+Young Ammergau.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+
+Expelled from the Play.
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+
+Modern Pilgrims.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+
+The Evening Before the Play.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+
+The Passion Play.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII.
+
+Freyer.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX.
+
+Signs and Wonders.
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+
+In the Early Morning.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+
+Mary and Magdalene.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+
+Bridal Torches.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+
+Banished from Eden.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+
+Pieta.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+
+The Crowing of the Cock.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+
+Prisoned.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII.
+
+Flying from the Cross.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+The Marriage.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX.
+
+At the Child's Bedside.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX.
+
+Conflicts.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI.
+
+Unaccountable.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII.
+
+Falling Stars.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+Noli me Tangere.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+Attempts to Rescue.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXV.
+
+Day is Dawning.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+The Last Support.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+Between Poverty and Disgrace.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+Parting.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+In the Deserted House.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXX.
+
+The "Wiesherrle."
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+The Return Home.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+To the Village.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+Received Again.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+At Daisenberger's Grave.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+The Watchword.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+Memories.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+The Measure is Full.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+On the Way to the Cross.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+Stations of Sorrow.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XL.
+
+Near the Goal.
+
+
+                              CONCLUSION.
+
+From Illusion to Truth.
+
+
+
+
+                             INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+It was in the Garden of Gethsemane that the risen Son of God showed
+Himself, as a simple gardener, to the penitent sinner. The miracle has
+become a pious tradition. It happened long, long ago, and no eye has
+ever beheld Him since. Even when the risen Lord walked among the men
+and women of His own day, only those saw Him who wished to do so.
+
+But those who wish to see Him, see Him now; and those who wish to seek
+Him, find Him now.
+
+The Garden of Gethsemane has disappeared--the hot sun of the East has
+withered it. All things are subject to change. The surface of the earth
+alters and where the olive tree once grew green and the cedar stretched
+its leafy roof above the head of the Redeemer and the Penitent, there
+is nothing now save dead, withered leafage.
+
+But the Garden blooms once more in a cool, shady valley among the
+German mountains. Modern Gethsemane bears the name of Oberammergau. As
+the sun pursues its course from East to West, so the salvation which
+came from the East has made its way across the earth to the West.
+There, in the veins of young and vigorous nations, still flow the
+living streams that water the seeds of faith on which the miracle is
+nourished, and the stunted mountain pine which has sprung from the hard
+rocks of the Ettal Mountain is transformed to a palm tree, the poor
+habitant of the little mountain village to a God. It is change, and yet
+constancy amid the change.
+
+The world and its history also change in the passage of the centuries.
+The event before which the human race sank prostrate, as the guards
+once did when the risen Christ burst the gates of the tomb, gradually
+passed into partial oblivion. The thunder with which the veil of the
+temple was rent in twain died away in the misty distance; heaven closed
+forever behind the ascended Lord, the stars pursued their old courses
+in undisturbed regularity; revelations were silent. Men rubbed their
+eyes as though waking from a dream and began to discuss what portion
+was truth and what illusion. The strife lasted for centuries. One
+tradition overthrew another, one creed crowded out another. With sword
+in hand and the trumpet of the Judgment Day the _Ecclesia Militans_
+established the dogma, enforced unity in faith. But peace did not last
+long under the rule of the church. The Reformation again divided the
+Christian world, the Thirty Years War, the most terrible religious
+conflict the earth has ever witnessed began, and in the fury of the
+battle the combatants forgot the _cause_ of the warfare. Amid the
+streams of blood, the clouds of smoke rising from burning cities and
+villages, the ruins of shattered altars, the cross, the holy emblem for
+which the battle raged, vanished, and when it was raised again, it was
+still but an emblem of warfare, no longer a symbol of peace.
+
+There is a single spot of earth where, untouched by the tumult of the
+world, sheltered behind the lofty, inhospitable wall of a high
+mountain, the idea of Christianity has been preserved in all its
+simplicity and purity--Oberammergau. As God once suffered the Saviour
+of the World to be born in a manger, among poor shepherds, He seems to
+have extended His protecting hand over this secluded nook and reserved
+the poor mountaineers to repeat the miracle. Concealed behind the steep
+Ettal mountain was a monastery where, from ancient times, the beautiful
+arts had been sedulously fostered.
+
+One of the monks was deeply grieved because, in the outside world,
+iconoclasm was rudely shaking the old forms and, in blind fear, even
+rejecting religious art as "Romish." As no holy image would be
+tolerated; the Saviour and His Saints must disappear entirely from the
+eyes of men. Then, in his distress, the inspiration came that a sacred
+drama, performed by living beings, could produce a more powerful effect
+than word or symbol. So it was determined in the monastery that one
+should be enacted.
+
+The young people in the neighborhood, who had long been schooled by the
+influence of the learned monks to appreciate beauty, were soon trained
+to act legends and biblical poems. With increasing skill they gained
+more and more confidence, till at last their holy zeal led them to show
+mankind the Redeemer Himself, the Master of the world, in His own
+bodily form, saying to erring humanity; "Lo, thus He was and thus He
+will be forever."
+
+And while in the churches paintings and relics were torn from the walls
+and crucifixes destroyed, the first Passion play was performed, A. D.
+1634, under the open sky in the churchyard of Oberammergau--for this
+spot, on account of its solemn associations, was deemed the fitting
+place for the holy work. The disgraced image of love, defiled by blood
+and flames, once more rose in its pure beauty! Living, breathing! The
+wounds inflicted more than a thousand years before again opened, fresh
+drops of blood trickled from the brow torn by its diadem of thorns,
+again the "Continue ye in My love" fell from the pallid lips of the
+Lamb of God, and what Puritanism had destroyed in its _dead_ form was
+born anew in a _living one_. But, amid the confusion and roar of
+battle, the furious yells of hate, no one heard the gentle voice in the
+distant nook beyond the mountains.
+
+The message of peace died away, the Crucified One shed His blood
+unseen.
+
+Years passed, the misery of the people constantly increased, lands were
+ravaged, the ranks of the combatants thinned.
+
+At last the warriors began to be paralyzed, the raging storm subsided
+and pallid fear stared blankly at the foes who had at last gained their
+senses--the plague, that terrible Egyptian Sphinx, lured by the odor of
+corruption emanating from the long war, stole over the earth, and those
+at whom she gazed with the black fiery eyes of her torrid zone, sank
+beneath it like the scorched grass when the simoom sweeps over the
+desert.
+
+Silence fell, the silence of the grave, for wherever this spectre
+stalks, death follows.
+
+Fear reconciled enemies and made them forget their rancor in union
+against the common foe, the cruel, invincible plague. They gazed around
+them for some helping hand, and once more turned to that over which
+they had so long quarrelled. Then amid the deathlike stillness of the
+barren fields, the empty houses, the denuded churches, and the
+desolated land, they at last heard the little bell behind the Ettal
+mountain, which every decade summoned the Christian world to the
+Passion Play, for this was the vow taken by the Ammergau peasants to
+avert the plague and the divine wrath. Again the ever patient Saviour
+extended His arms, crying: "Come unto Me, all ye who are weary and
+heavy laden!" And they did come. They threw themselves at His feet, the
+wearied, hunted earthlings, stained with dust and blood, and He
+comforted and refreshed them, while they again recognized Him and
+learned to understand the meaning of His sacrifice.
+
+Those who thus saw Him and received the revelation announced it to
+others, who flocked thither from far and near till the little
+church-yard of Oberammergau became too narrow, and could no longer
+contain the throngs; the open fields became a sacred theatre to receive
+the pilgrims, who longed to behold the Redeemer's face.
+
+And, strangely enough, all who took part in the sacred play, seemed
+consecrated, the plague passed them by, Ammergau alone was spared.
+
+So the pious seed grew slowly, often with periods when it stood still,
+but the watchful eye can follow it in history.
+
+Peace at last came to the world. Purer airs blew. The Egyptian hyena,
+satiated, left the ravaged fields, new life bloomed from the graves,
+and this new life knew naught of the pangs and sufferings of the old.
+From the brutality and corruption of the long war, the new generation
+longed for more refined manners, culture, and the pleasures of life.
+But, as usual after such periods of deprivation and calamity, one
+extreme followed another. The desire for more refined manners and
+education led to hyperculture, the love of pleasure into epicureanism
+and luxury, grace into coquetry, mirth into frivolity. Then came the
+so-called age of gallantry. The foil took the place of the sword, the
+lace jabot of the leather jerkin, the smoke of battle gave way to the
+clouds of powder scattered by heads nodding in every direction.
+
+Masked shepherds and shepherdesses danced upon the graves of a former
+generation, a new Arcadia was created in apish imitation and peopled
+with grimacing creatures who tripped about on tiptoe in their
+high-heeled shoes. Instead of the mediæval representations of martyrs
+and emaciated saints appeared the nude gods and cupids of a Watteau and
+his school. Grace took the place of majesty. Instead of moral law, men
+followed the easy code of convenience and everything was allowable
+which did not transgress its rules. Thus arose a generation of
+thoughtless pleasure seekers, which bore within itself a moral
+pestilence that, in contrast with the "Black Death," might be termed
+the "Rosy Death" for it breathed upon the cheeks of all whom it
+attacked the rosy flush of a fever which wasted more slowly, but none
+the less surely.
+
+And through this rouged, dancing, skipping age, with the click of its
+high-heeled shoes, its rustling hooped petticoats, its amorous glances
+and heaving bosoms, the chaste figure of the Man of Sorrows, with a
+terrible solemnity upon his pallid brow, again and again trod the stage
+of Ammergau, and whoever beheld Him dropped the flowing bowl of
+pleasure, while the laugh died on his lips.
+
+Again history and the judgment of the world moved forward. The "Rosy
+Death" had decomposed and poisoned all the healthful juices of society
+and corrupted the very heart of the human race--morality, faith, and
+philosophy, everything which makes men manly, had gradually perished
+unobserved in the thoughtless whirl. The tinsel and apish civilisation
+no longer sufficed to conceal the brute in human nature. It shook off
+every veil and stood forth in all its nakedness. The modern deluge, the
+French Revolution burst forth. Murder, anarchy, the delirium of fever
+swept over the earth in every form of horror.
+
+Again came a change, a transformation to the lowest depths of
+corruption. Grace now yielded to brutality, beauty to ugliness, the
+divine to the cynical. Altars were overthrown, religion was abjured,
+the earth trembled under the mass of destroyed traditions.
+
+But from the turmoil of the throng, fiercely rending one another, from
+the smoke and exhalations of this conflagration of the world, yonder in
+the German Garden of Gethsemane again rose victoriously, like a
+Ph[oe]nix from its ashes, the denied, rejected God, and the undefiled
+sun of Ammergau wove a halo of glory around the sublime figure which
+hung high on the cross.
+
+It was a quiet, victory, of which the frantic mob were ignorant; for
+they saw only the foe confronting them, not the one battling above. The
+latter was vanquished long ago, He was deposed, and that settled the
+matter. The people in their sovereignty can depose and set up gods at
+pleasure, and when once dethroned, they no longer exist; they are
+hurled into Tartarus. And as men can not do without a god, they create
+an idol.
+
+The country groaned beneath the iron stride of the Emperor and, without
+wishing or knowing it, he became the avenger of the God in whose place
+he stood. For, as the Thirty Years War ended under the scourge of the
+pestilence, and the age of mirth and gallantry under the lash of
+the Revolution, the Revolution yielded to the third scourge, the
+self-created idol!
+
+He, the man with compressed lips and brow sombre with thought, ruled
+the unchained elements, became lord of the anarchy, and dictated laws
+to a universe. But with iron finger he tore open the veins of humanity
+to mark upon the race the brand of slavery. The world bled from a
+thousand wounds, and upon each he marked the name "Napoleon."
+
+Then, wan as the moon floats in the sky when the glow of the setting
+sun is blazing in the horizon, the sovereign of the world in his bloody
+splendor confronted the pallid shadow of the Crucified One, also robed
+in a royal mantle, still wet with the blood He had voluntarily shed.
+They gazed silently at each other--but the usurper turned pale.
+
+At last, at the moment he imagined himself most like Him, God hurled
+the rival god into the deepest misery and disgrace. The enemy of the
+world was conquered, and popular hatred, so long repressed, at last
+freed from the unbearable restraint, poured forth upon the lonely grave
+at St. Helena its foam of execration and curses. Then the conqueror in
+Oberammergau extended His arms in pardon, saying to him also: "Verily I
+say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise."
+
+A time of peace now dawned, the century of _thought_. After the great
+exertions of the war of liberation, a truce in political life followed,
+and the nations used it to make up for what they had lost in the
+development of civilization during the period of political strife. A
+flood of ideas inundated the world. All talent, rejoicing in the mental
+activity which had so long lain dormant, was astir. There was rivalry
+and conflict for the prize in every department. The rising generation,
+conscious of newly awakening powers, dared enterprise after enterprise
+and with each waxed greater. With increasing production, the power of
+assimilation also increased. Everything grand created in other
+centuries was drawn into the circle of their own nation as if just
+discovered. That for which the enlightened minds of earlier days had
+vainly toiled, striven, bled, now bloomed in luxuriant harvests, and
+the century erected monuments to those who had been misjudged and
+adorned them with the harvest garland garnered from the seeds which
+they had sowed in tears.
+
+What Galvani and Salomon de Cäus, misunderstood and unheard, had
+planned, now made their triumphal passage across the earth as a panting
+steam engine or a flashing messenger of light, borne by and bearing
+ideas.
+
+The century which produced a Schiller and a Goethe first understood a
+Shakespeare, Sophocles and Euripides rose from the graves where they
+had lain more than a thousand years, archæology brought the buried
+world of Homer from beneath the earth, a Canova, a Thorwaldsen, a
+Cornelius, Kaulbach, and all the great masters of the Renaissance of
+our time, took up the brushes and chisels of Phidias, Michael Angelo,
+Raphael, and Rubens, which had so long lain idle. What Aristotle had
+taught a thousand, and Winckelmann and Lessing a hundred years before,
+the knowledge of the laws of art, the appreciation of the beautiful,
+was no longer mere dead capital in the hands of learned men, but
+circulated in the throbbing veins of a vigorously developing
+civilization; it demanded and obtained the highest goal.
+
+The circle between the old and the new civilization has closed, every
+chasm has been bridged. There is an alternate action of old and new
+forces, a common labor of all the nations and the ages, as if there was
+no longer any division of time and space, as if there was but one
+eternal art, one eternal science. Ascending humanity has trodden matter
+under foot, conquered science, made manufactures useful, and
+transfigured art.
+
+But this light which has so suddenly flamed through the world also
+casts its shadows. Progress in art and science matures the judgment,
+but judgment becomes criticism and criticism negation. The dualism
+which permeates all creation, the creative and the destructive power,
+the principle of affirmation and of denial, cannot be shut out even
+now, but must continue the old contest which has never yet been
+decided. Critical analysis opposes faith, materialism wars against
+idealism, pessimism contends with optimism. The human race has reached
+the outermost limit of knowledge, but this does not content it in its
+victorious career, it wishes to break through and discover _the God_
+concealed behind. Even the heart of a God must not escape the scalpel
+which nothing withstood. But the barrier is impenetrable. And one
+party, weary of the fruitless toil, pulls back the aspiring ones.
+"Down to matter, whence you came. What are you seeking? Science has
+attained the highest goal, she has discovered the protoplasm whence all
+organism proceeded. What is the Creator of modern times? A
+physiological--chemical, vital function within the substance of a cell.
+Will ye pray to this, suffer for this, ye fools?"
+
+Others turn in loathing from this cynical interpretation of scientific
+results and throw themselves into the arms of beauty, seeking in it the
+divinity, and others still wait, battling between earth and heaven, in
+the dim belief of being nearest to the goal.
+
+It is a tremendous struggle, as though the earth must burst under the
+enormous pressure of power demanding room, irreconcilable contrasts.
+
+Then amid the heat of the lecture rooms, the throng of students of art
+and science, comes a long-forgotten voice from the days of our
+childhood! And the straining eyes suddenly turn from the teachers and
+the dissecting tables, from the glittering visions of art and the
+material world to the stage of Oberammergau and the Passion Play.
+
+There stands the unassuming figure with the crown of thorns and the
+sorrowful, questioning gaze. And with one accord their hearts rush to
+meet Him and, as the son who has grown rich in foreign lands, after
+having eaten and enjoyed everything, longs to return to the poverty of
+his home and falls repentantly at the feet of his forsaken father, the
+human race, in the midst of this intoxication of knowledge and
+pleasure, sinks sobbing before the pale flower of Christianity and
+longingly extends its arms toward the rude wooden cross on which it
+blooms!
+
+That powerful thinker, Max Müller, says in his comparative study of
+religions:[1] "When do we feel the blessings of our country more warmly
+and truly than when we return from abroad? It is the same with regard
+to religion." That fact is apparent here! It is an indisputable verity
+that, at the precise period when art and science have attained their
+highest stages of development, the Oberammergau Passion Play enjoys a
+degree of appreciation never bestowed before, that during this critical
+age, from decade to decade, people flock to the Passion Play in ever
+increasing throngs. Not only the uncultivated and ignorant, nay, the
+most cultured--artists and scholars, statesmen and monarchs. The poor
+village no longer has room to shelter all its guests; it is positively
+startling to see the flood of human beings pour in on the evening
+before the commencement of the play, stifling, inundating everything.
+And then it is marvellous to notice how quiet it is on the morning of
+the play, as it flows into the bare room called the theatre, how it
+seems as it were to grow calm, as if every storm within or without was
+subdued under the influence of those simple words, now more than two
+thousand years old. How wonderful it is to watch the people fairly
+holding their breath to listen to the simple drama for seven long hours
+without heeding the time which is far beyond the limit our easily
+wearied nerves are accustomed to bear.
+
+What is it, for whose sake the highest as well as the lowest, the
+richest and the poorest, prince and peasant, would sleep on a layer of
+straw, without a murmur, if no bed could be had? Why will the most
+pampered endure hunger and thirst, the most delicate heat and cold, the
+most timid fearlessly undertake the hard journey across the Ettal
+mountain? Is it mere curiosity to hear a number of poor wood-carvers,
+peasants, and wood-cutters repeat under the open sky, exposed to sun
+and rain, in worse German than is heard at school the same old story
+which has already been told a thousand times, as the enemies of the
+Passion Play say? Would this bring people every ten years from half the
+inhabited world, from far and near, from South and North, from the
+mountains and the valleys, from palaces and huts, across sea and land?
+Certainly not? What is it then? A miracle?
+
+Whoever has seen the Passion Play understands it, but it is difficult
+to explain the mystery to those who have not.
+
+The deity remains concealed from our earthly vision and unattainable,
+like the veiled statue of Sais. Every attempt to raise this veil by
+force is terribly avenged.
+
+What is gained by those modern Socinians and Adorantes who, with
+ill-feigned piety, seek to drag the mystery to light and make the God a
+_human being_, in order to worship in the wretched puppet _themselves_?
+Even if they beheld Him face to face, they would still see themselves
+only, and He would cry: "You are like the spirit which you understand,
+not me."
+
+And what do the Pantheists gain who make man _God_, in order to embrace
+in Him the unattainable? Sooner or later they will perceive that they
+have mistaken the _effects_ for the _cause_, and the form for the
+essence. Loathing and disappointment will be their lot, as it is the
+lot of all who have nothing but--human beings.
+
+But those to whom the visible is only the _symbol_ of the _invisible_
+which teaches them from the effect to learn the cause, will, with
+unerring logical correctness, pass from the form to the essence, from
+the _illusion_ to the _truth_.
+
+_That_ is the marvel of the modern Gethsemane, which this book will
+narrate.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+
+                               A PHANTOM.
+
+
+Solemn and lofty against the evening sky towers the Kofel, the
+land-mark and protecting rock-bulwark of Oberammergau, bearing aloft
+its solitary cross, like a threatening hand uplifted in menace to
+confront an advancing foe with the symbol of victory.
+
+Twilight is gathering, and the dark shadow of the mighty protector
+stretches far across the quiet valley. The fading glow of sunset casts
+a pallid light upon the simple cross which has stood on the mountain
+peak for centuries, frequently renewed but always of the same size, so
+that it can be seen a long distance off by the throngs who journey
+upward from the valley, gazing longingly across the steep, inhospitable
+mountains toward the goal of the toilsome pilgrimage.
+
+It is Friday. A long line of carriages is winding like a huge serpent
+up the Ettal mountain. Amid the throng, two very handsome landaus are
+especially conspicuous. The first is drawn by four horses in costly
+harnesses adorned with a coronet, which prance gaily in the slow
+progress, as if the ascent of the Ettal mountain was but pastime for
+animals of their breed. In the equipage, which is open, sit a lady and
+a gentleman, pale, listless, uninterested in their surroundings and
+apparently in each other; the second one contains a maid, a man
+servant, and on the box the courier, with the pompous, official manner,
+which proclaims to the world that the family he has the honor of
+serving and in whose behalf he pays the highest prices, is an
+aristocratic one. The mistress of this elegant establishment, spite of
+her downcast eyes and almost lifeless air, is a woman of such
+remarkable beauty that it is apparent even amidst the confusion of
+veils and wraps. Blonde hair, as soft as silk, clusters in rings around
+her brow and diffuses a warm glow over a face white as a tea rose,
+intellectual, yet withal wonderfully, tender and sensuous in its
+outlines. Suddenly, as though curious to penetrate the drooping lids
+and see the eyes they concealed, the sun bursts through a rift in the
+clouds, throwing a golden bridge of rays from mountain to mountain. Now
+the lashes are raised to return the greeting, revealing sparkling dark
+eyes of a mysterious color, varying every instant as they follow the
+shimmering rays that glide along the cliff. Then something flashes from
+a half-concealed cave and the beams linger a moment on a pale face. It
+is an image of Christ carved in wood which, with uplifted hand, bids
+the new comers welcome. But those who are now arriving do not
+understand its language, the greeting remains unanswered.
+
+The sunbeams glide farther on as if saying, "If this is not the Christ
+you are seeking, perhaps it is he?" And now--they stop. On a rugged
+peak, illumined by a halo of light, stands a figure, half concealed by
+the green branches, gazing with calm superiority at the motley, anxious
+crowd below. He has removed his hat and, heated by the rapid walk, is
+wiping the perspiration from his brow. Long black locks parted in the
+middle, float back from a grave, majestic face with a black beard and
+strangely mournful black, far-seeing eyes. The hair, tossed by the
+wind, is caught by a thorny branch which sways above the prematurely
+furrowed brow. The sharp points glow redly in the brilliant sunset
+light, as if crimsoned with blood from the head which rests dreamily
+against the trunk. A tremor runs through the form of the woman below;
+she suddenly sits erect, as though roused from sleep. The wandering
+rays which sought her eyes also lead her gaze to those of the solitary
+man above, and on this golden bridge two sparkling glances meet. Like
+two pedestrians who cannot avoid each other on a narrow path, they look
+and pause. They grasp and hold each other--one must yield, for neither
+will let the other pass.
+
+Then the sunbeam pales, the bridge has fallen, and the apparition
+vanishes in the forest shadows.
+
+"Did you see that?" the lady asked her companion, who had also glanced
+up at the cliff.
+
+"What should I have seen?"
+
+"Why--that--that--" she paused, uncertain what words to choose. She was
+going to say, "that man up there," but the sentence is too prosaic, yet
+she can find no other and says merely, "him up there!" Her companion,
+glancing skyward, shakes his head.
+
+"_Him_ up there! I really believe, Countess, that the air of Ammergau
+is beginning to affect you. Apparently you already have religious
+hallucinations--or we will say, in the language of this hallowed soil,
+heavenly visions!"
+
+The countess leans silently back in her corner--the cold, indifferent
+expression returns to the lips which just parted in so lovely a smile.
+"But what did you see? At least tell me, since I am not fortunate
+enough to be granted such visions," her companion adds with kindly
+irony. "Or was it too sublime to be communicated to such a base
+worldling as I?"
+
+"Yes," she says curtly, covering her eyes with her hand, as if to shut
+out the fading sunset glow in order to recall the vision more
+distinctly. Then she remains silent.
+
+Night gradually closes in, the panting train of horses has reached the
+village. Now the animals are urged into a trot and the drivers turn the
+solemn occasion into a noisy tumult. The vehicles jolt terribly in the
+ruts, the cracking of whips, the rattle of wheels, the screams of
+frightened children and poultry, the barking of dogs, blend in a
+confused din, and that nothing may be wanting to complete it, a howling
+gust of wind sweeps through the village, driving the drifting clouds
+into threatening masses.
+
+"This is all we lacked--rain too!" grumbled the gentleman. "Shall I
+have the carriage closed?"
+
+"No," replied the Countess, opening her umbrella. "Who would have
+thought it; the sun was shining ten minutes ago!"
+
+"Yes, the weather changes rapidly in the mountains. I saw the shower
+rising. While you were admiring some worthy wood-cutter up yonder as a
+heavenly apparition, I was watching the approaching tempest." He draws
+the travelling rug, which has slipped down, closer around the lady and
+himself. "Come what may, I am resigned; when we are in Rome, we must
+follow the Roman customs. Who would not go through fire and water for
+you, Countess?" He tries to take her hand, but cannot find it among the
+shawls and wraps. He bites his lips angrily; he had expected that the
+hand he sought would gratefully meet his in return for so graceful an
+expression of loyalty! Large drops of rain beat into his face.
+
+"Not even a clasp of the hand in return for the infernal journey to
+this peasant hole," he mutters.
+
+The carriages thunder past the church, the flowers and crosses on the
+graves in the quiet church-yard tremble with the shaking of the ground.
+The lamps in the parsonage are already lighted, the priest comes to the
+window and gazes quietly at the familiar spectacle. "Poor travellers!
+Out in such a storm!"
+
+One carriage after another turns down a street or stops before a house.
+The Countess and her companion alone have not yet reached their
+destination. Meantime it has grown perfectly dark. The driver is
+obliged to stop to shut up the carriage and light the lantern, for the
+rain and darkness have become so dense and the travellers are drenched.
+An icy wind, which always accompanies a thunderstorm in the mountain,
+blows into their faces till they can scarcely keep their eyes open. The
+servant, unable to see in the gloom, is clumsy in closing the carriage,
+the hand-bags fall down upon the occupants; the driver can scarcely
+hold the horses, which are frightened by the crowds in pursuit of
+lodgings. He is not familiar with the place and, struggling to restrain
+the plunging four-in-hand, enquires the way in broken sentences from
+the box, and only half catches the answers, which are indistinct in the
+tumult. Meantime the other servants have arrived. The Countess orders
+the courier to drive on with the second carriage and take possession of
+the rooms which have been engaged. The man, supposing it is an easy
+matter to find the way in so small a place, moves forward. The Countess
+can scarcely control her ill humor.
+
+"An abominable journey--the horses overheated by the ascent of the
+mountain and now this storm. And the lamps won't burn, the wind
+constantly blows them out. You were right, Prince, we ought to have
+taken a hired--" She does not finish the sentence, for the ray
+from one of the carriage lamps, which has just been lighted with much
+difficulty, falls upon a swiftly passing figure, which looks almost
+supernaturally tall in the uncertain glimmer. Long, black locks,
+dripping with moisture, are blown by the wind from under his
+broad-brimmed hat. He has evidently been surprised by the storm without
+an umbrella and is hurrying home--not timidly and hastily, like a
+person to whom a few drops of rain, more or less, is of serious
+importance, but rather like one who does not wish to be accosted. The
+countess cannot see his face, he has already passed, but she
+distinguishes the outlines of the slender, commanding figure in the
+dark dress, noticing with a rapid glance the remarkably elastic gait,
+and an involuntary: "There he goes again!" escapes her lips aloud.
+Obeying a sudden impulse, she calls to the servant: "Quick, ask the
+gentleman yonder the way to the house of Andreas Gross, where we are
+going."
+
+The servant follows the retreating figure a few steps and shouts,
+"Here, you--" The stranger pauses a moment, half turns his head, then,
+as if the abrupt summons could not possibly be meant for _him_, moves
+proudly on without glancing back a second time.
+
+The servant timidly returns. A feeling of shame overwhelms the
+countess, as though she had committed the blunder of ordering him to
+address a person of high rank travelling incognito.
+
+"The gentleman wouldn't hear me," says the lackey apologetically, much
+abashed. "Very well," his mistress answers, glad that the darkness
+conceals her blushes. A flash of lightning darts from the sky and a
+sudden peal of thunder frightens the horses. "Drive on," the countess
+commands; the lackey springs on the box, the carriage rolls forward--a
+few yards further and the dark figure once more appears beside the
+vehicle, walking calmly on amid the thunder and lightning, and merely
+turns his head slightly toward the prancing horses.
+
+The equipage dashes by--the countess leans silently back on the
+cushions, and shows no further desire to look out.
+
+"Tell me, Countess Madeleine," asks the gentleman whom she has just
+addressed as 'Prince,' "what troubles you today?"
+
+The countess laughs. "Dear me, how solemnly you put the question! What
+should trouble me?"
+
+"I cannot understand you," the prince continued. "You treat me coldly
+and grow enthusiastic over a vision of the imagination which already
+draws from you the exclamation: 'There he is _again!_' I cannot help
+thinking what an uncertain possession is the favor of a lady whose
+imagination kindles so easily."
+
+"This is charming," the countess tried to jest. "My prince jealous--of
+a phantom?"
+
+"That is just it. If a _phantom_ can produce such variations in the
+temperature of your heart toward me, how must my hopes stand?"
+
+"Dear Prince, you know that whether with or without a phantom, I could
+never yet answer this question which Your Highness frequently
+condescends to ask me."
+
+"I believe, Countess, that one always stands between us! You pursue
+some unknown ideal which you do not find in me, the realist, who has
+nothing to offer you save prosaic facts--his hand, his principality,
+and an affection for which unhappily he lacks poetic phrases."
+
+"You exaggerate, Prince, and are growing severe. There is a touch of
+truth--I am always honest--yet, as you know, you are the most favored
+of all my suitors. Still it is true that an unknown disputes precedence
+with you. This rival is but the man of my imagination--but the world
+contains no one like my ideal, so you have nothing to fear."
+
+"What ideal do you demand, Countess, that no one can attain it?"
+
+"Ah! a very simple one, yet you conventional natures will never
+understand it. It is the simplicity of the lost Paradise to which you
+can never return. I am by nature a lover of the ideal--I am
+enthusiastic and need enthusiasm; but you call me a visionary when I am
+in the most sacred earnest. I yearn for a husband who believes in my
+ideal, I want no one from whom I must conceal it in order to avoid
+ridicule, and thus be unable to be true to my highest self. He whom my
+soul seeks must be at once a man and a child--a man in character and a
+child in heart. But where in our modern life is such a person to be
+found? Where is gentleness without feeble sentimentality? Where is
+there enthusiasm without fantastic vagueness, where simplicity of heart
+without narrowness of mind? Whoever possesses a manly character and a
+strong intellect cannot escape the demands which science and politics
+impose, and this detracts from the emotional life, gives prominent
+development to concrete thought, makes men realistic and critical. But
+of all who suffer from these defects of our time, you are the best,
+Prince!" she adds, smilingly.'
+
+"That is sorry comfort," murmurs the prince. "It is a peculiar thing to
+have an invisible rival; who will guarantee that some person may not
+appear who answers to the description?"
+
+"That is the reason I have not yet given you my consent," replies the
+countess, gravely.
+
+Her companion sighs heavily, makes no reply, but gazes steadfastly into
+the raging storm. Alter a time he says, softly, "If I did not love you
+so deeply, Countess Madeleine--"
+
+"You would not bear with me so long, would you?" asks the countess,
+holding out her hand as if beseeching pardon.
+
+This one half unconscious expression of friendship disarms the
+irritated man.--He bends over the slender little hand and raises it
+tenderly to his lips.
+
+"She must yet be mine!" he says under his breath, by way of
+consolation, like all men whose hopes are doubtful. "I will even dare
+the battle with a phantom."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+
+                             OLD AMMERGAU.
+
+
+At last, alter a long circuit and many enquiries, the goal was gained.
+The dripping, sorely shaken equipage stopped with two wheels in a ditch
+filled with rain water, whose overflow flooded the path to the house.
+The courier and maid seemed to have missed their way, too, for the
+second carriage was not there. People hurried out of the low doorway
+shading small flickering candles with their hands. The countess shrank
+back. What strange faces these peasants had! An old man with a terribly
+hang-dog countenance, long grey hair, a pointed Jewish beard, sharp
+hooked nose, and sparkling eyes! And two elderly women, one short and
+fat, with prominent eyes and black curling hair, the other a tall,
+thin, odd-looking person with tangled coal-black hair, hooked nose, and
+glittering black eyes.
+
+In the mysterious shadows cast by the wavering lights upon the sharply
+cut faces, the whole group looked startlingly like a band of gypsies.
+
+"Oh! are these Ammergau people?" whispered the countess in a
+disappointed tone.
+
+"Does Gross, the wood-carver, live here?" the prince enquired.
+
+"Yes," was the reply. "Gross, the stone-cutter. Have you engaged rooms
+here?"
+
+"We wrote from Tegernsee for lodgings. The Countess von Wildenau,"
+answered the prince.
+
+"Oh yes, yes! Everything is ready! The lady will lodge with us; the
+carriage and servants can go to the old post-house. I have the honor to
+bid you good evening," said the old man. "I am sorry you have had such
+bad weather. But we have a great deal of rain here."
+
+The prince alighted--the water splashed high under his feet.
+
+"Oh Sephi, bring a board, quick; the countess cannot get out here!"
+cried the old man with eager deprecation of the discomfort threatening
+the lady. Sephi, the tall, thin woman, dragged a plank from the garden,
+while a one-eyed dog began to bark furiously.
+
+The plank was laid down, but instantly sunk under the water, and the
+countess was obliged to wade through the flood. As she alighted, she
+felt as if she should strike her head against the edge of the
+overhanging roof--the house was so low. Fresco paintings, dark with
+age, appeared to stretch and writhe in distorted shapes in the
+flickering light. The place seemed more and more dismal to the
+countess.
+
+"Shall I carry you across?" asked the prince.
+
+"Oh no!" she answered reprovingly, while her little foot sought the
+bottom of the pool. The ice-cold water covered her delicate boot to the
+ankle. She had been so full of eager anticipation, in such a poetic
+mood, and prosaic reality dealt her a blow in the face. She shivered as
+she walked silently through the water.
+
+"Come in, your rooms are ready," said the old man cheeringly.
+
+They passed through a kitchen black with myriads of flies, into an
+apartment formerly used as the workshop, now converted into a parlor.
+Two children were asleep on an old torn sofa. In one corner lay sacks
+of straw, prepared for couches, the owners of the house considered it a
+matter of course that they should have no beds during the Passion. A
+smoking kerosene lamp hung from, the dark worm-eaten wooden ceiling,
+diffusing more smoke than light. The room was so low that the countess
+could scarcely stand erect, and besides the ceiling had sunk--in the
+dim, smoke-laden atmosphere the beams threatened to fall at any moment.
+
+A sense of suffocation oppressed the new-comer. She was utterly
+exhausted, chilled, nervous to the verge of weeping. Her white teeth
+chattered. She shivered with cold and discomfort. Her host opened a low
+door into a small room containing two beds, a table, an old-fashioned
+dark cupboard, and two chairs.
+
+"There," he cried in a tone of great satisfaction, "that is your
+chamber. Now you can rest, and if you want anything, you need only call
+and one of my daughters will come in and wait upon you."
+
+"Yes, my good fellow, but where am _I_ to lodge?" asked the prince.
+
+"Oh--then you don't belong together? In that case the countess must
+sleep with another lady, and the gentleman up here."
+
+He pointed to a little stair-case in the corner which, according to the
+custom in old peasant houses, led from one room through a trap-door
+into another directly above it.
+
+"But I can't sleep _there_, it would inconvenience the lady," said the
+prince. "Have you no other rooms?"
+
+"Why yes; but they are engaged for to-morrow," replied Andreas Gross,
+while the two sisters stood staring helplessly.
+
+"Then give me the rooms and send the other people away."
+
+"Oh! I can't do that, sir.--They are promised."
+
+"Good Heavens! Ill pay you twice, ten times as much."
+
+"Why, sir, if you paid me twenty times the price, I could not do it; I
+must not break my promise!" said the old man with gentle firmness.
+
+"Ah," thought the prince, "he wants to screw me--but I'll manage that,
+Countess, excuse me a few minutes while I look for another lodging."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, try to find one for me, too. I would rather spend
+the night in the carriage than stay here!" replied the countess in
+French.
+
+"Yes, it is horrible! but it will not be difficult to find something
+better. Good-bye!" he answered in the same language.
+
+"Don't leave me alone with these people too long. Come back soon; I am
+afraid," she added, still using the French tongue.
+
+"Really?" the prince answered, laughing; but a ray of pleasure sparkled
+in his eyes.
+
+Meanwhile, the little girl who was asleep on the sofa had waked and now
+came into the room.
+
+The countess requested every one to retire that she might rest, and the
+peasants modestly withdrew. But when she tried to fasten the door, it
+had neither lock nor bolt, only a little wire hook which slipped into a
+loose ring.
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed, startled. "I cannot lock it."
+
+"You need have no anxiety," replied the old man soothingly, "we sleep
+in the next room." But the vicinity of those strange people, when she
+could not lock the door, was exactly what the countess feared.
+
+She slipped the miserable wire hook into its fastening and sat down on
+one of the beds, which had no mattresses--nothing but sacking.
+
+Covering her face with her hands, she gave free course to indignant
+tears. She still wore her hat and cloak, which she had not ventured to
+take off, from a vague feeling of being encompassed by perils whence
+she might need to fly at any moment. In such a situation, surely it was
+safer not to lay aside one's wraps. If the worst came, she would remain
+so all night. To go to bed in a house where the roof might fall and
+such strange figures were stealing about, was too great a risk. Beside
+the bed on which the countess sat was a door, which, amid all the
+terrors, she had not noticed. Now it seemed as though she heard a
+scraping noise like the filing of iron. Then came hollow blows and a
+peculiar rattling. Horrible, incomprehensible sounds! Now a blow fell
+upon the door, whose fastening was little better than the other. And
+now another.
+
+"The very powers of hell are let loose here," cried the countess,
+starting up. Her cold, wet feet seemed paralyzed, her senses were on
+the verge of failing. And she was alone in this terrible strait. Where
+were the servants? Perhaps they had been led astray, robbed and
+murdered--and meanwhile the storm outside was raging in all its fury.
+
+There came another attempt to burst the door which, under two crashing
+blows, began to yield. The countess, as if in a dream, rushed to the
+workshop and, almost fainting, called to her aid the uncanny people
+there--one terror against another. With blanched lips she told them
+that some one had entered the house, that some madman or fugitive from
+justice was trying to get in.
+
+"Oh! that is nothing," said Andreas, with what seemed to the terrified
+woman a fiendish smile, and walking straight to the door, while the
+countess shrieked aloud, opened it, and--a head was thrust in. A mild,
+big, stupid face stared at the light with wondering eyes and snorted
+from wide pink nostrils at the strange surroundings. A bay horse--a
+good-natured cart horse occupied the next room to the Countess
+Wildenau!
+
+"You see the criminal. He is a cribber, that is the cause of the
+horrible noises you heard."
+
+The trembling woman stared at the mild, stupid equine face as though it
+was a heavenly vision--yet spite of her relief and much as she loved
+horses, she could not have gone to bed comfortably, since as the door
+was already half broken down by the elephantine hoofs of the worthy
+brute, there was a chance that during the night, lured by the aromatic
+odor of the sea-weed, which formed the stuffing of the bed, the bay
+might mistake the countess' couch for a manger and rouse her somewhat
+rudely with his snuffing muzzle.
+
+"Oh, we'll make that all right at once," said Andreas. "We'll fasten
+him so that he can't get free again, and the carter comes at four in
+the morning, then you will not be disturbed any more."
+
+"After not having closed my eyes all night," murmured the countess,
+following the old man to see that he fastened the horse securely. Yes,
+the room which opened from here by a door with neither lock nor
+threshold was a stable. Several frightened hens flew from the
+straw--this, too. "When the horse has left the stable the cocks will
+begin to crow. What a night after the fatigues of the day!" The old man
+smiled with irritating superiority, and said:
+
+"Yes, that is the way in the country."
+
+"No, I won't stay here--I would rather spend the night in the carriage.
+How can people exist in this place, even for a day," thought the
+countess.
+
+"Won't you have something to eat? Shall my daughter make a
+schmarren?"[2]
+
+"A schmarren! In that kitchen, with those flies." The countess felt a
+sense of loathing.
+
+"No, thank you." Even if she was starving, she could not eat a mouthful
+in this place.
+
+The bay was at last tied and, for want of other occupation, continued
+to gnaw his crib and to suck the air, a proceeding terribly trying to
+the nerves of his fair neighbor in the next room. At last--oh joy,
+deliverance--the second carriage rattled up to the house, bringing the
+maid and the courier.
+
+"Come in, come in!" called the countess from the window. "Don't have
+any of the luggage taken off. I shall not stay here."
+
+The two servants entered with flushed faces.
+
+"Where in the world have you been so long?" asked their mistress,
+imperiously, glad to be able, at last, to vent her ill-humor on some
+one.
+
+"The driver missed the way," stammered the courier, casting a side
+glance at the blushing maid. The countess perceived the situation at a
+glance and was herself again. Fear and timidity, all her nervous
+weakness vanished before the pride of the offended mistress, who had
+been kept waiting an hour, at whose close the tardy servants entered
+with faces whose confusion plainly betrayed that so long a delay was
+needless.
+
+She drew herself up to her full height, feminine fears forgotten in the
+pride of the lady of rank.
+
+"Courier, you are dismissed--not another word!"
+
+"Then I beg Your Highness to discharge me, too," said the excited maid,
+thus betraying herself. A contemptuous glance from the countess rested
+upon the culprit, but without hesitation, she said, quietly:
+
+"Very well. You can both go to the steward for your wages. Good
+evening."
+
+Both left the room pale and silent. They had not expected this
+dismissal, but they knew their mistress' temper and were aware that not
+another word would be allowed, that no excuse or entreaty would avail.
+The countess, too, was in no pleasant mood. She was left here--without
+a maid. For the first time in her life she would be obliged to wait
+upon herself, unpack all those huge trunks and bags. How could she do
+it? She was so cold and so weary, too, and she did not even know which
+of the numerous bags contained dry shoes and stockings. Was she to pull
+out everything, when she must do the repacking herself? For now she
+must certainly go to another house, among civilized people, where she
+could have servants and not be so utterly alone. Oh, if only she had
+not come to this Ammergau--it was a horrible place! One would hardly
+purchase the salvation of the world at the cost of such an evening. It
+was terrible to be in this situation--and without a maid!
+
+And, as trivial things find even the loftiest women fainthearted
+because they are matters of nerve, and not of character, the lady who
+had just confronted her servants so haughtily sank down on the bed
+again and wept like a child.
+
+Some one tapped lightly on the door of the workshop. The countess
+opened it, and the short, stout sister timidly entered.
+
+"Pardon me, Your Highness, we have just heard that you have discharged
+your maid and courier, so I wanted to ask whether my sister or I could
+be of any service? Perhaps we might unpack a little?"
+
+"Thank you--I don't wish to spend the night here and hope that my
+companion will bring news that he has found other accommodations. I
+will pay whatever you ask, but I can't possibly stay. Ask your father
+what he charges, I'll give whatever you wish--only let me go."
+
+The old man was summoned.
+
+"Why certainly, Countess, you can be entirely at ease on that score; if
+you don't like staying with us, that need not trouble you. You will
+have nothing to pay--only you must be quick or you will find no
+lodgings, they are very hard to get now."
+
+"Yes, but you must have some compensation. Just tell me what I am to
+give."
+
+"Nothing, Countess. We do not receive payment for what is not eaten!"
+replied Andreas Gross with such impressive firmness that the lady
+looked at him in astonishment. "The Ammergau people do not make a
+business of renting lodgings, Countess; that is done only by the
+foreign speculators who wish to make a great deal of money at this
+time, and alas! bring upon Ammergau the reputation of extortion! We
+natives of the village do it for the sake of having as many guests
+witness the play as possible, and are glad if we meet our expenses. We
+expect nothing more."
+
+The countess suddenly saw the "hang-dog" face in a very different
+light! It must have been the dusk which had deceived her. She now
+thought it an intellectual and noble one, nay the wrinkled countenance,
+the long grey locks, and clear, penetrating eyes had an aspect of
+patriarchal dignity. She suddenly realized that these people must have
+had the masks which their characters require bestowed by nature, not
+painted with rouge, and thus the traits of the past unconsciously
+became impressed upon the features. In the same way, among professional
+actors, the performer who takes character rôles can easily be
+distinguished from the lover.
+
+"Do you act too?" she asked with interest.
+
+"I act Dathan, the Jewish trader," he said proudly. "I have been in the
+Play sixty years, for when I was a child three years old I sat in Eve's
+lap in the tableaux." The countess could not repress a smile and old
+Andreas' face also brightened.
+
+The little girl, a daughter of the short, plump woman, peeped through
+the half open door, gazing with sparkling eyes at the lovely lady.
+
+"Whose child is the little one?" asked the countess, noticing her soft
+curb and beaming eyes.
+
+"She is my grand-daughter, the child of my daughter, Anna. Her father
+was a foreigner. He ran away, leaving his wife and two children in
+poverty. So I took them all three into my house again."
+
+The countess looked at the old man's thin, worn figure, and then at the
+plump mother and child.
+
+"Who supports them?"
+
+"Oh, we help one another," replied Andreas evasively. "We all work
+together. My son, the drawing teacher, does a great deal for us, too.
+We could not manage without him." Then interrupting himself with a
+startled look, as if he might have been overheard, he added, "but I
+ought not to have said that--he would be very angry if he knew."
+
+"You appear to be a little afraid of your son," said the countess.
+
+"Yes, yes--he is strict, very strict and proud, but a good son."
+
+The old man's eyes sparkled with love and pride.
+
+"Where is he?" asked the countess eagerly.
+
+"Oh, he never allows strangers to see him if he can avoid it."
+
+"Does he act, too?"
+
+"No; he arranges the tableaux, and it needs the ability of a field
+marshal, for he is obliged to command two or three hundred people, and
+he keeps them together and they obey him as though he was a general."
+
+"He must be a very interesting person."
+
+At that moment the prince's step was heard in the sitting-room.
+
+"May I come in?"
+
+"Yes, Prince."
+
+He entered, dripping with rain.
+
+"I found nothing except one little room for myself, in a hut even worse
+than this. All the large houses are filled to overflowing. Satan
+himself brought us among these confounded peasants!" he said angrily in
+French.
+
+"Don't speak so," replied the countess earnestly in the same language.
+"They are saints." The little girl whispered to her mother.
+
+"Please excuse me, Sir; but my child understands French and has just
+told me that you could get no room for the lady," said Andreas'
+daughter timidly. "I know where there is one in a very pretty house
+near by. I will run over as quickly as I can and see if it is still
+vacant. If you could secure it you would find it much better than
+ours." She hurried towards the door.
+
+"Stop, woman," called the prince, "you cannot possibly go out; the rain
+is pouring in torrents, and another shower is rising."
+
+"Yes, stay," cried the countess, "wait till the storm is over."
+
+"Oh, no! lodgings are being taken every minute, we must not lose an
+instant." The next moment she threw a shawl over her head and left the
+house. She was just running past the low window--a vivid flash of
+lightning illumined the room, making the little bent figure stand forth
+like a silhouette. A peal of thunder quickly followed.
+
+"The storm is just over us," said the prince with kindly anxiety. "We
+ought not to have let her go."
+
+"Oh, it is of no consequence," said the old man smiling, "she is glad
+to do it."
+
+"Tell me about these strange people," the prince began, but the
+countess motioned to him that the child understood French. He looked at
+her with a comical expression as if he wanted to say: "These are queer
+'natives' who give their children so good an education."
+
+The countess went to the window, gazing uneasily at the raging storm. A
+feeling of self-reproach stole into her heart for having let the kind
+creature go out amid this uproar of the elements. Especially when these
+people would take no compensation and therefore lost a profit, if
+another lodging was found.
+
+It was her loss, and yet she showed this cheerful alacrity.
+
+The little party had now entered the living room. The countess sat on
+the window sill, while flash after flash of lightning blazed, and peal
+after peal crashed from the sky. She no longer thought of herself, only
+of the poor woman outside. The little girl wept softly over her poor
+mother's exposure to the storm, and slipped to the door to wait for
+her. The prince, shivering, sat on the bench by the stove. Gross,
+noticing it, put on more fuel "that the gentleman might dry himself." A
+bright fire was soon crackling in the huge green stove, the main
+support of the sunken ceiling.
+
+"Pray charge the fuel to me," said the prince, ashamed.
+
+The old man smiled.
+
+"How you gentle-folks want to pay for everything. We should have needed
+a fire ourselves." With these words he left the room. The thin sister
+now thought it desirable not to disturb the strangers and also went
+out.
+
+"Tell me, Countess," the prince began, leaning comfortably against the
+warm stove, "may I perfume this, by no means agreeable, atmosphere with
+a cigarette?"
+
+"Certainly, I had forgotten that there were such things as cigarettes
+in the world."
+
+"So it seems to me," said the prince, coolly. "Tell me, _chère amie_,
+now that you have duly enjoyed all the tremors of this romantic
+situation, how should you like a cup of tea?"
+
+"Tea?" said the countess, looking at him as if just roused from a
+dream, "tea!"
+
+"Yes, tea," persisted the prince. "My poor friend, you must have lived
+an eternity in this one hour among these 'savages' to have already lost
+the memory of one of the best products of civilization."
+
+"Tea," repeated the countess, who now realized her exhaustion, "that
+would be refreshing, but I don't know how to get it, I sent the maid
+away."
+
+"Yes, I met the dismissed couple in a state of utter despair. And I can
+imagine that my worshipped Countess Madeleine--the most pampered and
+spoiled of all the children of fortune and the fashionable world--does
+not know how to help herself. I am by no means sorry, for I shall
+profit by it. I can now pose as a kind Providence. What good luck for a
+lover! is it not? So permit me to supply the maid's place--so far as
+this is _practicable_. I have tea with me and my valet whom, thank
+Heaven, I was not obliged to send away, is waiting your order to serve
+it."
+
+"How kind you are, Prince. But consider that kitchen filled with
+flies."
+
+"Oh, you need not feel uncomfortable on that score. You are evidently
+unused to the mountains. I know these flies, they are different from
+our city ones and possess a peculiar skill in keeping out of food. Try
+it for once."
+
+"Yes, but we must first ascertain whether I can get the other room,"
+said the countess, again lapsing into despondency.
+
+"My dearest Countess, does that prevent our taking any refreshment?
+Don't be so spiritless," said the prince laughing.
+
+"Oh, it's all very well to laugh. The situation is tragical enough, I
+assure you."
+
+"Tragical enough to pay for the trouble of developing a certain
+grandeur of soul, but not, in true womanly fashion, to lose all
+composure."
+
+The prince shook the ashes from his cigarette and went to the door to
+order the valet to serve the tea. When he returned, the countess
+suddenly came to meet him, held out her hand, and said with a
+bewitching smile:
+
+"Prince, you are charming to-day, and I am unbearable. I thank you for
+the patience you have shown."
+
+"Madeleine," he replied, controlling his emotion, "if I did not know
+your kind heart, I should believe you a Circe, who delighted in driving
+men mad. Were it not for my cold, sober reason, which you always
+emphasize, I should now mistake for love the feeling which makes you
+meet me so graciously, and thus expose myself to disappointment. But
+reason plainly shows that it is merely the gratitude of a kind heart
+for a trivial service rendered in an unpleasant situation, and I am too
+proud to do, in earnest, what I just said in jest--profit by the
+opportunity."
+
+The countess, chilled and ashamed, drew her hand back. There spoke the
+dry, prosaic, commonplace man. Had he _now_ understood how to profit by
+her mood when, in her helpless condition, he appeared as a deliverer in
+the hour of need, who knows what might have happened! But this was
+precisely what he disdained. The experienced man of the world knew
+women well enough to be perfectly aware how easily one may be won in a
+moment of nervous depression, desperate perplexity and helplessness,
+yet though ever ready to enjoy every piquant situation, nevertheless or
+perhaps for that very reason he was too proud to owe to an accident of
+this kind the woman whom he had chosen for the companion of his life.
+The countess felt this and was secretly glad that he had spared her and
+himself a disappointment.
+
+"That is the way with women," he said softly, gazing at her with an
+almost compassionate expression. "For the mess of pottage of an
+agreeable situation, they will sell the birthright of their most sacred
+feelings."
+
+"That is a solemn, bitter truth, such as I am not accustomed to hear
+from your lips, Prince. But however deep may be the gulf of realism
+whence you have drawn this experience, you shall not find it confirmed
+in me."
+
+"That is, you will punish me henceforth by your coldness, while you
+know perfectly well that it was the sincerity of my regard for you
+which prompted my act, Countess, that vengeance would be unworthy; a
+woman like you ought not to sink to the petty sensitiveness of ordinary
+feminine vanity."
+
+"Oh, Prince, you are always right, and, believe me, if I carried my
+heart in my _head_ instead of in my breast, that is, if we could love
+with the _intellect_, I should have been yours long ago, but alas, my
+friend, it is so _far_ from the head to the heart."
+
+The Prince lighted another cigarette. No one could detect what was
+passing in his mind. "So much the worse for me!" he said coldly,
+shrugging his shoulders.
+
+At that moment a sheet of flame filled the room, and the crashing
+thunder which followed sounded as if the ceiling had fallen and buried
+everything under it. The countess seemed bewildered.
+
+"Mother, mother!" shrieked a voice outside. People gathered in the
+street, voices were heard, shouts, hurrying footsteps and the weeping
+of the little girl. The prince sprang out of the window, the countess
+regained her consciousness--of what?
+
+"Some one has been struck by lightning." She hastened out.
+
+A senseless figure was brought in and laid on the bench in the entry.
+It was the kind-hearted little creature whom her caprice had sent into
+the storm--perhaps to her death. There she lay silent and pale, with
+closed lids; her hands were cold her features sharp and rigid like
+those of a corpse, but her heart still throbbed under her drenched
+gown. The countess asked the prince to bring cologne and smelling salts
+from her satchel and skillfully applied the remedies; the prince helped
+her rub the arteries while she strove to restore consciousness with the
+sharp essences. Meanwhile the other sister soothed the weeping child.
+Andreas Gross poured a few drops of some liquid from a dusty flask into
+the sufferer's mouth, saying quietly, "You must not be so much
+frightened, I am something of a doctor; it is only a severe fainting
+fit. The other is worse."
+
+"Were two persons struck?" asked the countess in horror.
+
+"Yes, one of the musicians, the first violin."
+
+A sudden thought darted through the countess' brain, and a feeling of
+dread stole over her as if there was in Ammergau a beloved life for
+which she must tremble. Yet she knew no one.
+
+"Please bring a shawl from my room," she said to the prince, and when
+he had gone, she asked quickly: "Tell me, is the musician tall?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Has he long black hair?"
+
+"No, he is fair," replied the old man.
+
+The countess, with a feeling of relief, remained silent, the prince
+returned. The sick woman opened her eyes and a faint moan escaped her
+lips.
+
+"Here will be a fine scene," thought the prince. "Plenty of capital can
+be made out of such a situation. My lovely friend will outweigh every
+tear with a gold coin."
+
+After a short time the woman regained sufficient consciousness to
+realize her surroundings and tried to lift her feet from the bench.
+"Oh, Countess, you will tax yourself too much. Please go in, there is a
+strong draught here."
+
+"Yes, but you must come with me," said the countess, "try whether you
+can use your feet."
+
+It was vain, she tried to take a step, but her feet refused to obey her
+will.
+
+"Alas!" cried the countess deeply moved. "She is paralyzed--and it is
+my fault."
+
+Anna gently took her hand and raised it to her lips. "Pray don't
+distress yourself, Countess, it will pass away. I am only sorry that I
+have caused you such a fright." She tried to smile, the ugly face
+looked actually beautiful at that moment, and the tones of her voice,
+whose tremor she strove to conceal, was so touching as she tried to
+comfort and soothe the self-reproach of the woman who had caused the
+misfortune that tears filled the countess' eyes.
+
+"How wise she is," said the prince, marvelling at such delicacy and
+feeling.
+
+"Come," said the countess, "we must get her into the warm rooms."
+
+Andreas Gross, and at a sign from the prince, the valet, carried the
+sick woman in and laid her on the bench by the stove. The countess held
+her icy hand, while tears streamed steadily down the sufferer's cheeks.
+
+"Do you feel any pain?" asked the lady anxiously.
+
+"No, oh no--but I can't help weeping because the Countess is so kind to
+me--I am in no pain--no indeed!" She smiled again, the touching smile
+which seeks to console others.
+
+"Yes, yes," said the old man, "you need not be troubled, she will be
+well to-morrow."
+
+The child laid her head lovingly on her mother's breast, a singularly
+peaceful atmosphere pervaded the room, a modest dignity marked the
+bearing of the poor peasants. The prince and the countess also sat in
+thoughtful silence. Suddenly the sick woman started up, "Oh dear, I
+almost forget the main thing. The lady can have the lodgings. Two very
+handsome rooms and excellent attendance, but the countess must go at
+once as soon as the shower is over. They will be kept only an hour.
+More people will arrive at ten."
+
+"I thank you," said the countess with a strange expression.
+
+"Oh, there is no need. I am only glad I secured the rooms, and that the
+countess can have attendance," replied the sick woman joyously. "I
+shall soon be better, then I'll show the way."
+
+"I thank you," repeated the countess earnestly. "I do not want the
+rooms, I shall _stay here_."
+
+"What are you going to do?" asked the prince in amazement.
+
+"Yes, I am ashamed that I was so foolish this evening. Will you keep
+me, you kind people, after I have done you so much injustice, and
+caused you such harm."
+
+"Oh! you must consult your own pleasure. We shall be glad to have you
+stay with us, but we shall take no offence, if it would be more
+pleasant for you elsewhere," said the old man with unruffled kindness.
+
+"Then I will stay."
+
+"That is a good decision, Countess," said the prince. "You always do
+what is right." He beckoned to Sephi, the thin sister, and whispered a
+few words. She vanished in the countess' room, returning in a short
+time with dry shoes and stockings, which she had found in one of the
+travelling satchels. The prince went to the window and stood there with
+his back turned to the room. "We must do the best that opportunity
+permits," he said energetically. "I beg your highness to let this lady
+change your shoes and stockings. I am answerable for your health, not
+only to myself, but to society."
+
+The countess submitted to the prince's arrangement, and the little
+ice-cold feet slid comfortably into the dry coverings, which Sephi had
+warmed at the stove. She now felt as if she was among human beings and
+gradually became more at ease. After Sephi had left the room she walked
+proudly up to the prince in her dry slippers, and said: "Come, Prince,
+let us pace to and fro, that our chilled blood may circulate once
+more."
+
+The prince gracefully offered his arm and led her up and down the long
+work-shop. Madeleine was bewitching at that moment, and the grateful
+expression of her animated face suited her to a charm.
+
+"I must go," he thought, "or I shall be led into committing some folly
+which will spoil all my chances with her."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+
+                            YOUNG AMMERGAU.
+
+
+The valet served the tea. The prince had provided for everything,
+remembered everything. He had even brought English biscuits.
+
+The little repast exerted a very cheering influence upon the depressed
+spirits of the countess. But she took the first cup to the invalid who,
+revived by the unaccustomed stimulant, rose at once, imagining that a
+miracle had been wrought, for she could walk again. The Gross family
+now left the room. The prince and the countess sipped their tea in
+silence. What were they to say when the valet, who always accompanied
+his master on his journeys, understood all the languages which the
+countess spoke fluently?
+
+The prince was grave and thoughtful. After they had drank the tea, he
+kissed her hand. "Let me go now--we must both have rest, you for your
+nerves and I for my feelings. I wish you a good night's sleep."
+
+"Prince, I can say that you have been infinitely charming to-day, and
+have risen much in my esteem."
+
+"I am glad to hear it, Countess, though a trifle depressed by the
+consciousness that I owe this favor to a cup of tea and a pair of dry
+slippers," replied the prince with apparent composure. Then he took his
+hat and left the room.
+
+And this is love? thought the countess, shrugging her shoulders. What
+was she to do? She did not feel at all inclined to sleep. People are
+never more disposed to chat than after hardships successfully endured.
+She had had her tea, had been warmed, served, and tended. For the first
+time since her arrival she was comfortable, and now she must go to bed.
+At ten o'clock in the evening, the hour when she usually drove from the
+theatre to some evening entertainment.
+
+The prince had gone and the Gross family came in to ask if she wanted
+anything more.
+
+"No, but you are ready to go to bed, and I ought to return to my room,
+should I not?" replied the countess.
+
+Just at that moment the door was flung open and a head like the bronze
+cast of the bust of a Roman emperor appeared. A face which in truth
+seemed as if carved from bronze, keen eagle eyes, a nose slightly
+hooked, an imperious, delicately moulded brow, short hair combed
+upward, and an expression of bitter, sad, but irresistible energy on
+the compressed lips. As the quick eyes perceived the countess, the head
+was drawn back with the speed of lightning. But old Gross, proud of his
+son, called him back.
+
+"Come in, come in and be presented to this lady, people don't run away
+so."
+
+The young man, somewhat annoyed, returned.
+
+"My son, Ludwig, principal of the drawing school," said old Gross.
+Ludwig's artist eyes glided over the countess; she felt the glance of
+the connoisseur, knew, that he could appreciate her beauty. What a
+delight to see herself, among these simple folk, suddenly reflected in
+an artist's eyes and find that the picture came back beautiful. How
+happened so exquisite a crystal, which can be polished only in the
+workshops of the highest education and art, to be in such surroundings?
+The countess noted with ever increasing amazement the striking face and
+the proud poise of the head on the small, compact, yet classically
+formed figure. She knew at the first moment that this was a man in the
+true sense of the word, and she gave him her hand as though greeting an
+old acquaintance from the kingdom of the ideal. It seemed as if she
+must ask: "How do you come here?"
+
+Ludwig Gross read the question on her lips. He possessed the vision
+from which even the thoughts must be guarded, or he would guess them.
+
+"I must ask your pardon for disturbing you. I have just come from the
+meeting and only wanted to see my sister. I heard she was ill."
+
+"Oh, I feel quite well again," the latter answered.
+
+"Yes," said the countess in a somewhat embarrassed tone, "you will be
+vexed with the intruder who has brought so much anxiety and alarm into
+your house? I reproach myself for being so foolish as to have wanted
+another lodging, but at first I thought that the ceiling would fall
+upon me, and I was afraid."
+
+"Oh, I understand that perfectly when persons are not accustomed to low
+rooms. It was difficult for me to become used to them again when I
+returned from Munich."
+
+"You were at the Academy?"
+
+"Yes, Countess."
+
+"Will you not take off your wet coat and sit down?"
+
+"I should not like to disturb you, Countess."
+
+"But you won't disturb me at all; come, let us have a little chat."
+
+Ludwig Gross laid his hat and overcoat aside, took a chair, and sat
+down opposite to the lady. Just at that moment a carriage drove up. The
+strangers who had engaged the rooms refused to the prince had arrived,
+and the family hastened out to receive and help them. The countess and
+Ludwig were left alone.
+
+"What were you discussing at so late an hour?" asked the countess.
+
+"Doré sent us this evening two engravings of his two Passion pictures;
+he is interested in our play, so we were obliged to discuss the best
+way of expressing our gratitude and to decide upon the place where they
+shall be hung. There is no time for such consultations during the day."
+
+"Are you familiar with all of Doré's pictures?"
+
+"Certainly, Countess."
+
+"And do you like him?"
+
+"I admire him. I do not agree with him in every particular, but he is a
+genius, and genius has a right to forgiveness for faults which
+mediocrity should never venture to commit, and indeed never will."
+
+"Very true," replied the lady.
+
+"I think," Ludwig Gross continued, "that he resembles Hamerling. There
+is kinship between the two men. Hamerling, too, repels us here and
+there, but with him, as with Doré, every line and every stroke flashes
+with that electric spark which belongs only to the genuine work of
+art."
+
+His companion gazed at him in amazement.
+
+"You have read Hamerling?"
+
+"Certainly. Who is not familiar with his 'Ahasuerus?'"[3]
+
+"I, for instance," she replied with a faint blush.
+
+"Oh, Countess, you must read it. There is a vigor, an acerbity, the
+repressed anguish and wrath of a noble nature against the pitifulness
+of mankind, which must impress every one upon whose soul the questions
+of life have ever cast their shadows, though I know not whether this is
+the case with you."
+
+"More than is perhaps supposed," she answered, drawing a long breath.
+"We are all pessimists, but Hamerling must be a stronger one than is
+well for a poet."
+
+"That is not quite correct," replied Ludwig. "He is a pessimist just so
+far as accords with the poesy of our age. Did not Auerbach once say:
+'Pessimism is the grief of the world, which has no more tears!' This
+applies to Hamerling, also. His poetry has that bitter flavor, which is
+required by a generation that has passed the stage when sweets please
+the palate and tears relieve the heart."
+
+"Your words are very true. But how do you explain--it would be
+interesting to hear from you--how do you explain, in this mood of the
+times, the attraction which draws such throngs to the Passion Play?"
+
+Ludwig Gross leaned back in his chair, and his stern brow relaxed under
+the bright influence of a beautiful thought.
+
+"One extreme, as is well known, follows another. The human heart will
+always long for tears, and the world's tearless anguish will therefore
+yield to a gentler mood. I think that the rush to our simple play is a
+symptom of this change. People come here to learn to weep once more."
+
+The countess rested her clasped hands on the table and gazed long and
+earnestly at Ludwig Gross. Her whole nature was kindled, her eyes
+lingered admiringly upon the modest little man, who did not seem at all
+conscious of his own superiority. "To learn to _weep_!" she repeated,
+nodding gently. "Yes, we might all need that. But do you believe we
+shall learn it here?"
+
+Ludwig Gross gazed at her smiling. "You will not ask that question at
+this hour on the evening of the day after tomorrow."
+
+He seemed to her a physician who possessed a remedy which he knows
+_cannot_ fail. And she began to trust him like a physician.
+
+"May I be perfectly frank?" she asked in a winning tone.
+
+"I beg that you will be so, Countess."
+
+"I am surprised to find a man like you here. I had not supposed there
+were such people in the village. But you were away a long time, you are
+probably no longer a representative citizen of Ammergau?"
+
+Ludwig Gross raised his head proudly. "Certainly I am, Countess. If
+there was ever a true citizen of Ammergau, I am one. Learn to know us
+better, and you will soon be convinced that we are all of one mind.
+Though one has perhaps learned more than another, that is a mere
+accident; the same purpose, the same idea, unites us all."
+
+"But what binds men of such talent to this remote village? Are you
+married?"
+
+The bitter expression around the artist's mouth deepened as though cut
+by some invisible instrument. "No, Countess, my circumstances do not
+permit it; I have renounced this happiness."
+
+The lady perceived that she had touched a sensitive spot, but she
+desired to probe the wound to learn whether it might be healed. "Is
+your salary so small that you could not support a family?"
+
+"If I wish to aid my own family, and that is certainly my first duty, I
+cannot found a home."
+
+"How is that possible. Does so rich a community pay its teacher so
+poorly?"
+
+"It does as well as it can, Countess. It has fixed a salary of twelve
+hundred marks for my position; that is all that can be expected."
+
+"For this place, yes. But if you were in Munich, you would easily
+obtain twice or three times as much."
+
+"Even five times," answered Ludwig, smiling. "I had offers from two
+art-industrial institutes, one of which promised a salary of four
+thousand, the other of six thousand marks per annum. But that did not
+matter when the most sacred duties to my home were concerned."
+
+"But these are superhuman sacrifices. Who can expect you to banish
+yourself here and resign everything which the world outside would
+lavish upon you in the richest measure? Everyone must consider himself
+first."
+
+"Why, Countess, Ammergau would die out if everybody was of that
+opinion."
+
+"Oh! let those remain who are suited to the place, who have learned and
+can do nothing more. But men of talent and education, like you, who can
+claim something better, belong outside."
+
+"On the contrary, Countess, they belong here," Ludwig eagerly answered.
+"What would become of the Passion Play if all who have learned and can
+do something should go away, and only the uneducated and the ignorant
+remain? Do you suppose that there are not a number of people here, who,
+according to your ideas, would have deserved 'a better fate?' We have
+enough of them, but go among us and learn whether any one complains. If
+he should, he would be unworthy the name of a son of Ammergau!" He
+paused a moment, his bronzed face grew darker. "Do you imagine," he
+added, "that we could perform such a work, perform it in a manner
+which, in some degree, fulfills the æsthetic demand of modern taste,
+without possessing, in our midst, men of intellect and culture? It is
+bad enough that necessity compels many a talented native of Ammergau to
+seek his fortune outside, but the man to whom his home still gives even
+a bit of _bread_ must be content with it, and without thinking of what
+he might have gained outside, devote his powers to the ideal interests
+of his fellow citizens."
+
+"That is a grand and noble thought, but I don't understand why you
+speak as if the people of Ammergau were so poor. What becomes of the
+vast sums gained by the Passion Play?"
+
+Ludwig Gross smiled bitterly. "I expected that question, it comes from
+all sides. The Passion Play does not enrich individuals, for the few
+hundred marks, more or less, which each of the six hundred actors
+receives, do not cover the deficit of all the work which the people
+must neglect. The revenue is partly consumed by the expenses, partly
+used for the common benefit, for schools and teachers. The principal
+sums are swallowed by the Leine and the Ammer! The ravages of these
+malicious mountain streams require means which our community could
+never raise, save for the receipts of the Passion Play, and even these
+are barely sufficient for the most needful outlay."
+
+"Is it possible? Those little streams!" cried the countess.
+
+"Would flood all Ammergau," Gross answered, "if we did not constantly
+labor to prevent it. We should be a poor, stunted people, worn down by
+fever, our whole mountain valley would be a desolate swamp. The Passion
+Play alone saves us from destruction--the Christ who once ruled the
+waves actually holds back from us the destroying element which would
+gradually devour land and people. But, for that very reason, the
+individual has learned here, as perhaps nowhere else in the world, to
+live and sacrifice himself for the community! The community is
+comprised to us in the idea of the Passion Play. We know that our
+existence depends upon it, even our intellectual life, for it protects
+us from the savagery into which a people continually struggling with
+want and need so easily lapses. It raises us above the common herd,
+gives even the poorest man an innate dignity and self-respect, which
+never suffer him to sink to base excesses."
+
+"I understand that," the countess answered.
+
+"Then can you wonder that not one of us hesitates to devote property,
+life, and every power of his soul to this work of saving our home, our
+poor, oppressed home, ever forced to straggle for its very existence?"
+
+"What a man!" the countess involuntarily exclaimed aloud. Ludwig Gross
+had folded his arms across his breast, as if to restrain the pulsations
+of his throbbing heart. His whole being thrilled with the deepest,
+noblest emotions. He rose and took his hat, like a person whose
+principle it is to shut every emotion within his own bosom, and when a
+mighty one overpowers him, to hide himself that he may also hide the
+feeling.
+
+"No," cried the countess, "you must not leave me so, you rare,
+noble-hearted man. You have just done me the greatest service which can
+be rendered. You have made my heart leap with joy at the discovery of a
+_genuine_ human being. Ah! it is a cordial in this world of
+conventional masks! Give me your hand! I am beginning to understand why
+Providence sent me here. That must indeed be a great cause which rears
+such men and binds such powers in its service."
+
+Ludwig Gross once more stood calm and quiet before her. "I thank you,
+Countess, in the name of the cause for which I live and die."
+
+"And, in the name of that cause, which I do not understand, yet dimly
+apprehend, I beg you, let us be friends. Will you? Clasp hands upon
+it."
+
+A kindly expression flitted over the grave man's iron countenance, and
+he warmly grasped the little hand.
+
+"With all my heart, Countess."
+
+She held the small, slender artist-hand in a close clasp, mournfully
+reading in the calm features of the stern, noble face the story of
+bitter suffering and sacrifice graven upon it.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+
+                        EXPELLED FROM THE PLAY.
+
+
+The storm had spent its fury, the winds sung themselves softly to
+sleep, a friendly face looked down between the dispersing clouds and
+cast its mild light upon the water, now gradually flowing away. The
+swollen brooks rolled like molten silver--cold, glittering veins of the
+giant mountain body, whose crown of snow bestowed by the tempest
+glimmered with argent lustre in the pallid moonbeams. A breeze, chill
+and strengthening as the icy breath of eternity, sweeping from the
+white glaciers, entered the little window against which the countess
+was dreamily leaning.
+
+Higher and higher rose the moon, more and more transfigured and
+transparent became the mountains, as if they were no longer compact
+masses, only the spiritual image of themselves as it may have hovered
+before the divine creative mind, ere He gave them material form.
+
+The village lay silent before her, and silence pervaded all nature. Yet
+to the countess it seemed as if it were the stillness which precedes a
+great, decisive word.
+
+"What hast Thou to say to me, Viewless One? Sacred stillness, what dost
+thou promise? Will the moment come when I shall understand Thy
+language, infinite Spirit? Or wilt Thou only half do Thy work in
+me--only awake the feeling that Thou art near me, speaking to me,
+merely to let me die of longing for the word I have failed to
+comprehend.
+
+"Woe betide me, if it is so! And yet--wherefore hast Thou implanted in
+my heart this longing, this inexplicable yearning, which _nothing_
+stills, no earthly advantage, neither the splendor and grandeur Thou
+hast given me, nor the art and science which Thou didst endow me with
+capacity to appreciate. On, on, strives my thirsting soul toward the
+germ of all existence, toward _Thee_. Fain would I behold Thy face,
+though the fiery vision should consume me!
+
+"Source of wisdom, no knowledge gives Thee to me; source of love, no
+love can supply Thy place. I have sought Thee in the temples of beauty,
+but found Thee not; in the shining spheres of thought, but in vain; in
+the love of human beings, but no matter how many hearts opened to me, I
+flung them aside as worthless rubbish, for Thou wert not in them! When
+will the moment come that Thou wilt appear before me in some noble form
+suited to Thy Majesty, and tell the sinner that her dim longing, into
+whatever errors it may have led her, yet obtained for her the boon of
+beholding Thy face?"
+
+Burning tears glittered in the moonlight in the countess' large,
+beseeching eyes and, mastered by an inexplicable feeling, she sank on
+her knees at the little window, stretching her clasped hands fervently
+towards the shining orb, floating in her mild beauty and effulgence
+above the conquered, flying clouds. The mountain opposite towered like
+a spectral form in the moonlit atmosphere, the peak over which she had
+driven that day, where she had seen that wondrous apparition, that man
+with the grief of the universe in his gaze! What manner of man must he
+have been whose glance, in a single moment, awed the person upon whom
+it fell as if some higher power had given a look of admiration? Why had
+it rested upon her with such strange reproach, as if saying: "You, too,
+are a child of the world, like many who come here, unworthy of
+salvation." Or was he angry with her because she had disturbed him in
+his reveries? Yet why did he fix his eyes so intently upon hers, that
+neither could avert them from the other? And all this happened in a
+single moment--but a moment worthy of being held in remembrance
+throughout an eternity. Who could he be? Would she see him again? Yes,
+for in that meeting there was something far beyond mere accident.
+
+An incomprehensible restlessness seized upon her, a longing to solve
+the enigma, once more behold that face, that wonderful face whose like
+she had never seen before!
+
+The horse was stamping in its stall, but she did not heed it, the thin
+candles had burned down and gone out long ago, the worm was gnawing the
+ancient wainscoting, the clock in the church-steeple struck twelve. A
+dog howled in the distance, one of the children in the workshop was
+disturbed by the nightmare, it cried out in its sleep. Usually such
+nocturnal sounds would have greatly irritated the countess' nerves. Now
+she had no ears for them, before her lay the whole grand expanse of
+mountain scenery, bathed in the moonlight, naked as a beautiful body
+just risen from a glittering flood! And she was seized with an eager
+longing to throw herself upon the bosom of this noble body, that she,
+too, might be irradiated with light, steeped in its moist glow and cool
+in the pure, icy atmosphere emanating from it, her fevered blood, the
+vague yearning which thrilled her pulses. She hurriedly seized her hat
+and cloak and stepped noiselessly into the workshop. What a picture of
+poverty! The sisters and the little girl were lying on the floor upon
+sacks of straw, the boy was asleep on the "couch," and the old man
+dozed sitting erect in an antique arm-chair, with his feet on a stool.
+
+"How relative everything is," thought the countess. "To these people
+even so poor a bed as mine in yonder room is a forbidden luxury, which
+it would be sinful extravagance to desire. And we, amid our rustling
+curtains, on our silken cushions, resting on soft down, in rooms
+illuminated with the magical glow of lamps which pour a flood of
+roseate light on limbs stretched in comfortable repose, while the
+bronze angels which support the mirror seem to laugh gaily at each
+other, and from the toilet table intoxicating perfumes send forth their
+sweet poison, to conjure up a tropical world of blossom before the
+drowsy senses! While these sleeping-places here! On the bare floor and
+straw, lighted by the cold glimmer of the moon, shining through
+uncurtained windows and making the slumberers' lids quiver restlessly.
+Not even undressed, cramped by their coarse, tight garments, their
+weary limbs move uneasily on the hard beds! And this atmosphere! Five
+human beings in the low room and the soot from the lamp which has been
+smoking all the evening still filling the air. What lives! What
+contrasts! Yet these people are content and do not complain of their
+hard fate! Nay, they even disdain a favorable opportunity of improving
+it by legitimate gains. Not one desires more than is customary and
+usual. What pride, what grandeur of self-sacrifice this requires! _What
+gives them this power?_"
+
+Old Andreas woke and gazed with an almost terrified expression at the
+beautiful figure of the countess, standing thoughtfully among the
+sleepers. Starting up, he asked what she desired.
+
+"Will you go to walk with me, Herr Gross?"
+
+The old man rubbed his eyes to convince himself that he had slept so
+long that the sun was shining into his room. But no. "It is the moon
+which is so bright," he said to the countess.
+
+"Why, of course, that is why I want to go out!" she repeated. The old
+man quickly seized his hat from the chamois horn and stood ready to
+attend her. "Are you not tired?" she said hesitatingly. "You have not
+been in bed."
+
+"Oh, that is of no consequence!" was his ready answer. "During the
+Passion it is always so."
+
+The countess shook her head; she knew that the people here said simply
+"the Passion," but she could not understand why, during "the Passion,"
+they should neither expect a bed nor the most trivial comfort or why,
+for the sake of "the Passion," they should endure without a murmur, and
+without succumbing, every exertion and deprivation. She saw in the
+broad light which filled the room the old man's bright, keen eyes. "No,
+these Ammergau people know no fatigue, their task supports them!"
+
+The countess left the room with him. "Ah!" an involuntary exclamation
+of delight escaped her lips as she emerged into the splendor of the
+brilliant moonlight, and eagerly inhaled the air which blew cold and
+strong, yet closed softly around her, strengthening and supporting her
+like the waves of the sea. And, amid these shimmering, floating mists,
+this "phosphorescence" of the earth, these waves of melting outlines,
+softly dissolving shapes--the Kofel towered solitary in sharp relief,
+like a vast reef of rocks, and on its summit glittered the metal-bound
+cross, the symbol of Ammergau, sending its beams far and wide in the
+light of the full moon like the lantern of a lighthouse.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau stretched out her arms, throwing back her cloak,
+that her whole form might bathe in the pure element.
+
+"Oh, wash away all earthly dust and earthly ballast, ye surging
+billows: steal, purify me in thy chaste majesty, queen of the world,
+heaven-born air of the heights!" Was it possible that hitherto she had
+been able to live without this bliss, _had_ she lived? No, no, she had
+not! "Ammergau, thou art the soil I have sought! Thy miracles are
+beginning!" cried an exultant voice in the soul of the woman so
+suddenly released from the toils of weary desolation.
+
+Without exchanging many words--for the old man was full of delicacy,
+and perceived what was passing in the countess' soul--they
+involuntarily walked in the direction of the Kofel; only when they were
+passing the house of a prominent actor in the Passion Play, he often
+thought it his duty to call his companion's attention to it.
+
+Their way now lead them past a small dilapidated tavern which had but
+two windows in the front. Here the Roman Procurator lay on his bed of
+straw, enjoying his well-earned night's rest. It was the house of
+Pilate! Nowhere was any window closed with shutters--there were no
+thieves in Ammergau! The moon was reflected from every window-pane.
+They turned into the main street of the village, where the Ammer flowed
+in its broad, deep channel like a Venetian lagoon. The stately,
+picturesquely situated houses threw sharp shadows on the water. Here
+the ancient, venerable "star," whose landlord was one of the musicians,
+thrust its capacious bow-window into the street; yonder a foot-bridge
+led to the house of Caiaphas, a handsome building, richly adorned with
+frescoes representing scenes from ancient history; farther on Judas was
+sleeping the sleep of the just, rejoicing in the consciousness of
+having betrayed his master so often! On the other side Mary rested
+under the richly carved gable with the ancient design of the clover
+leaf, the symbol of the Trinity, and directly opposite, the milk-wart
+nodded and swayed on the wall of the churchyard!
+
+A strange feeling stole over the countess as she stood among these
+consecrated sleepers. As the fragrance of the sleeping flowers floats
+over a garden at night, the sorrowful spirit of the story of the
+Passion seemed to rise from these humble resting places, and the
+pilgrim through the silent village was stirred as though she was
+walking through the streets of Jerusalem. A street turned to the left
+between gardens surrounded by fences and shaded by tall, ancient trees.
+The shadows of the branches, tossed by the wind, flickered and danced
+with magical grace. "That is the way to the dwelling of the Christ,"
+said old Gross, in a subdued, reverential tone.
+
+The countess involuntarily started. "The Christ," she repeated
+thoughtfully, pausing. "Can the house be seen?"
+
+"No, not from here. The house is like himself, not very easy to find."
+
+"Is he so inaccessible?" asked the countess, glancing down the
+mysterious street again as they passed.
+
+"Oh yes," replied Andreas. "He is a peculiar man. It is difficult to
+approach him. He is a friend of my son, but has little to do with the
+rest of us."
+
+"But you associate with him?"
+
+"Very little in daily life; he goes nowhere, not even to the ale-house.
+But in the Passion I am associated with him. I always nail him to the
+cross," added the old man proudly. "No one is permitted to do that
+except myself."
+
+The countess listened with eager interest. The brief description had
+roused her curiosity to the utmost. "How do you do it?" she asked, to
+keep him to the same subject.
+
+"I cannot explain that to you, but a great deal depends upon having
+everything exactly right, for, you know, the least mistake might cost
+him his life."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Why, surely you can understand. Just think, the man is obliged to hang
+on the cross for twenty minutes. During this time the blood cannot
+circulate, and he always risks an attack of palpitation of the heart.
+One incautious movement in the descent from the cross, which should
+cause the blood to flow back too quickly to the heart, might cause his
+death."
+
+"That is terrible!" cried the countess in horror. "And does he know
+it?"
+
+"Why, certainly."
+
+"And _still_ does it!"
+
+Here Andreas gazed at the great lady with a compassionate smile, as if
+he wanted to say: "How little you understand, that you can ask such a
+question!"
+
+They walked on silently. The countess was thinking: "What kind of man
+must this Christ be?" and while thus pondering and striving to form
+some idea of him, it suddenly flashed upon her that there was but _one_
+face which could belong to this man, the face she had seen gazing down
+upon her from the mountain, as if from some other world. Like a blaze
+of lightning the thought flamed through her soul. "_That_ must have
+been he!"
+
+At that moment Gross made a circuit around a gloomy house that had a
+neglected, tangled garden.
+
+"Who lives there?" asked the countess in surprise, following the old
+man, who was now walking much faster.
+
+"Oh," he answered sorrowfully, "that is a sad place! There is an
+unhappy girl there, who sobs and moans all night long so that people
+hear her outside. I wanted to spare you, Countess."
+
+They had now reached the end of the village and were walking, still
+along the bank of the Ammer, toward a large dam over which the mountain
+stream, swollen by the rain, plunged in mad, foaming waves. The spray
+gleamed dazzlingly white in the moon-rays, the massive beams trembled
+under the pressure of the unchained volume of water, groaning and
+creaking with a sinister noise amid the thundering roar until it
+sounded like the wails of the dying amid the din of battle. The
+countess shuddered at the demoniac power of this spectacle. High above
+the steep fall a narrow plank led from one bank of the stream to the
+other, vibrating constantly with the shock of the falling water.
+Madeleine's brain whirled at the thought of being compelled to cross
+it. "The timbers are groaning," she said, pausing. "Does not it sound
+like a human voice?"
+
+The old man listened. "By heaven! one would suppose so."
+
+"It _is_ a human voice--there--hark--some one is weeping--moaning."
+
+The dam was in the full radiance of the moonlight, the countess and her
+companion stood concealed by a dense clump of willows, so that they
+could see without being seen.
+
+Suddenly--what was that? The old man made the sign of the cross.
+"Heavenly Father, it is she!"
+
+A female figure was gliding across the plank. Like the ruddy glow of
+flame, mingled with the bluish hue of the moonlight, a mass of red-gold
+hair gleamed around her head and fluttered in the wind. The beautiful
+face was ghost-like in its pallor, the eyes were fixed, the very
+embodiment of despair. Her upper garment hung in tatters about her
+softly-moulded shoulders, and she held her clasped hands uplifted, not
+like one who prays, but one who fain would pray, yet cannot. Then with
+the firm poise of a person seeking death, she walked to the middle of
+the swaying plank, where the water was deepest, the fall most steep.
+There she prepared to take the fatal plunge. The countess shrieked
+aloud and Gross shouted:
+
+"Josepha! Josepha! May God forgive you. Remember your old mother!"
+
+The girl uttered a piercing cry, covered her face with both hands, and
+flung herself prone on the narrow plank.
+
+But, with the speed of a youth, the old man was already on the bridge,
+raising the girl. "Shame on you to wish to do such a thing! We must
+submit to our fate! Now take care that you don't make a mis-step or I,
+an old man, must leap into the cold water to drag you out again, and
+you know how much I suffer from the rheumatism." He spoke in low,
+kindly tones, and the countess secretly admired his shrewdness and
+tenderness. She watched them breathlessly as the girl, at these words,
+tried not to slip in order to spare him. But now, as she did not _wish_
+to fall, she moved with uncertain, stumbling feet, where she had just
+seemed to fly. But Andreas Gross led her firmly and kindly. The
+countess' heart throbbed heavily till they reached the end and, in the
+utmost anxiety she stretched out her arms to them from the distance.
+Thank Heaven, there they are! The lady caught the girl by the hand and
+dragged her on the shore, where she sank silently, like a stricken
+animal, at her feet. The countess covered the trembling form with her
+cloak and said a few comforting words.
+
+"Do you know her?" she asked the old man.
+
+"Of course, it is Josepha Freyer, from the gloomy house yonder."
+
+"Freyer? A relative of the Freyer who played the Christ."
+
+"A cousin; yes."
+
+The old man was about to go to the girl's house to bring her mother.
+
+"No, no," said the countess. "I will care for her. What induced the
+unfortunate girl to take such a step?"
+
+"She was the Mary Magdalene in the last Passion!" whispered the old
+man. At the words the girl raised her head and burst into violent sobs.
+
+"My child, what has happened!" asked the countess, gazing admiringly at
+the charming creature, who was as perfect a picture of the penitent
+Magdalene as any artist could create.
+
+"Why don't you play the Magdalene _this time_?"
+
+"Don't you know?" asked the girl, amazed that there was any human being
+still ignorant of her disgrace. "I am not _permitted_ to play now--I
+am--I have"--she again burst with convulsive sobs and, clasping the
+countess' knees, cried: "Oh, let me die, I cannot bear it."
+
+"She fell into error," said Gross, in reply to the lady's questioning
+glance. "A little boy was born last winter. Now she can no longer act,
+for only those who are pure and without reproach are permitted to take
+part in the Passion."
+
+"Oh, how harsh!" cried the countess; "And in a land where human beings
+are so near to nature, and in circumstances where the poor girls are so
+little guarded."
+
+"Yes, we are aware of that--and Josepha is a heavy loss to us in the
+play--but these rules have come down to us from our ancestors and must
+be rigidly maintained. Yet the girl takes it too much to heart, she
+weeps day and night, so that people never pass the house to avoid
+hearing her lamentations, and now she wants to kill herself, the
+foolish lass."
+
+"Oh, it's very well for you to talk, it's very well for you to talk,"
+now burst from the girls lips in accents tremulous with passion.
+"First, try once what it is to have the whole world point at you. When
+the Englishmen, and the strangers from all the foreign countries in the
+world, come and want to see the famous Josepha Freyer, who played in
+the last Passion, and fairly drag the soul out of your body with their
+questions about the reason that you no longer act in it. Wait till you
+have to tell each person the story of your own disgrace, that it may be
+carried through the whole earth and know that your name is branded
+wherever men speak of the Passion Play. First try what it is to hide in
+a corner like a criminal, while they are acting in the Passion, and
+bragging and giving themselves airs as if they were saints, while
+thousands upon thousands listen devoutly. Ah, I alone am shut out, and
+yet I know that _no one_ can act as I do." She drew herself up proudly,
+and flung the magnificent traditional locks of the Magdalene back on
+her shoulders. "Just seek such a Magdalene as I was--you will find
+none. And then to be forced to hear people who are passing ask: 'Why
+doesn't Josepha Freyer play the Magdalene this year?' And then there
+are whispers, shrugs, and laughter, some one says, 'then she would suit
+the character exactly.' And when people pass the house they point at
+it--it seems as if I could feel it through the walls--and mutter:
+'That's where the Penitent lives!' No, I won't bear it. I only waited
+till there was a heavy storm to make the water deep enough for me to
+drown myself. And I've been prevented even in this."
+
+"Josepha!" said the countess, deeply moved, "will you go with me--away
+from Ammergau, to another, a very different world, where you and your
+disgrace are unknown?"
+
+Josepha gazed at the stranger as if in a dream.
+
+"I believe," the lady added, "that my losing my maid to-day was an act
+of Providence in your behalf. Will you take her place?"
+
+"Thank heaven!" said old Gross. "Brighter days will dawn for you,
+Josepha!"
+
+Josepha stood still with her hands clasped, tears were streaming down
+her cheeks.
+
+"Why, do you hesitate to accept my offer?" asked the countess, greatly
+perplexed.
+
+"Oh, don't be angry with me--I am sincerely grateful; but what do I
+care for all these things, if I am no longer permitted to act the
+Magdalene?" burst in unutterable anguish from the very depths of the
+girl's soul.
+
+"What an ambition!" said the countess to Andreas in astonishment.
+
+"Yes, that is the way with them all here--they would rather lose their
+lives than a part in the Passion!" he answered in a low tone. "But,
+child, you could not always play the Magdalene--in ten years you would
+be too old for it," he said soothingly to the despairing Josepha.
+
+"Oh that's a very different thing--when we have grown grey with honors,
+we know that we must give it up--but so--" and again she gazed
+longingly at the beautiful, deep, rushing water, where it would be so
+cool, so pleasant to rest--which she had vowed to seek, and now could
+not keep her word.
+
+"Do you love your child, Josepha?" asked Countess Wildenau.
+
+"It died directly after it was born."
+
+"Do you love your mother?"
+
+"No, she was always unkind and harsh to me, and now she has lost her
+mind."
+
+"Do you love your lover?" the lady persisted.
+
+"Yes--but he is dead! A poacher shot him--he was a forester."
+
+"Then you have no one for whom you care to live?"
+
+"No one!"
+
+"Then come with me and try whether you cannot love me well enough to
+make it worth while to live for me! Will you?"
+
+"Yes, your Highness, I will try!" replied the girl, fixing her large
+eyes with an expression of mingled inquiry and admiration upon the
+countess. A beautiful glow of gratitude and confidence gradually
+transfigured the grief-worn face: "I think I could do anything for
+you."
+
+"Come with me then--at once, poor child--I will save you! Your
+relatives will not object."
+
+"Oh, no! They will be glad to have me go away."
+
+"And your cousin, the--the--" she does not know herself why she
+hesitates to pronounce the name.
+
+"The Christ-Freyer?" said Josepha finishing the sentence. "Oh! he has
+not spoken to me for a year, except to say what was absolutely
+necessary, he cannot get over my having brought disgrace upon his
+unsullied name. It has made him disgusted with life here and, if it
+were not for the Christ, he would not stay in Ammergau. He is so severe
+in such things."
+
+"So _severe!_" the countess repeated, thoughtfully.
+
+The clock in the steeple of the Ammergau church struck two.
+
+"It is late," said the countess, "the poor thing needs rest." She
+wrapped her own cloak around the girl.
+
+"Come, lonely heart, I will warm you."
+
+She turned once more to drink in the loveliness of the exquisite scene.
+
+"Night of miracle, I thank thee."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+
+                            MODERN PILGRIMS.
+
+
+"What do you think. The Countess von Wildenau is founding an Orphan's
+Home!" said the prince, as, leaving the Gross house, he joined a group
+of gentlemen who were waiting just outside the door in the little
+garden.
+
+The news created a sensation; the gentlemen, laughing and jesting,
+plied him with questions.
+
+"Oh, _Mon Dieu_, who can understand a woman? Our goddess is sitting in
+the peasants' living room, with the elderly daughters of the house,
+indescribable creatures, occupying herself with feminine work."
+
+"Her Highness! Countess Wildenau! Oh, that's a bad joke."
+
+"No, upon my honor! If she had not hung a veil over the window, we
+could see her sitting there. She has borrowed a calico apron from one
+of the 'ladies of the house,' and as, for want of a maid, she was
+obliged to arrange her hair herself, she wears it to-day in a
+remarkably simple style and looks,"--he kissed his hand to the empty
+air--"more bewitching than ever, like a girl of sixteen, a regular
+Gretchen! Whoever has not gone crazy over her when she has been in full
+dress, will surely do so if he sees her _thus_."
+
+"Aha! We must see her, too; we'll assail the window!" cried his
+companions enthusiastically.
+
+"No, no! For Heaven's sake don't do that, on pain of her anger! Prince
+Hohenheim, I beg you! Count Cossigny, don't knock! St. Génois, _au nom
+de Dieu_, she will never forgive you."
+
+"Why not--friends so intimate as we are?"
+
+"I have already said, who can depend upon a woman's whims? Let me
+explain. I entered, rejoicing in the thought of bringing her such
+pleasant news. I said: 'Guess whom I met just now at the ticket office,
+Countess?' The goddess sat sewing."
+
+There was a general cry of astonishment. "Sewing!" the prince went on,
+"of course, without a thimble, for those in the house did not fit, and
+there was none among Her Highness' trinkets. So I repeated my question.
+An icy 'How can I tell?' was the depressing answer, as if at that
+moment nothing in the world could possibly interest her more than her
+work! So, unasked and with no display of attention, I was forced to go
+on with my news. 'Just think, Countess, Prince Hohenheim, the Counts
+Cossigny, Wengenrode, St. Génois, all Austria, France, and Bavaria have
+arrived!' I joyously exclaimed. I expected that she would utter a sigh
+of relief at the thought of meeting men of her world again, but no--she
+greeted my tidings with a frown."
+
+"Hear, hear!" cried the group.
+
+"A frown! I was forced to persist. 'They are outside, waiting to throw
+themselves at your feet,' I added. A still darker frown. 'Please keep
+the gentlemen away, I can see no one, I will see no one.' So she
+positively announced. I timidly ventured to ask why. She was tired, she
+could receive no one, she had no time. At last it came out. What do you
+suppose the countess did yesterday?"
+
+"I dare not guess," replied St. Génois with a malicious glance at the
+prince, which the latter loftily ignored.
+
+"She sent me away at eleven o'clock and then went wandering about,
+rhapsodizing over the moonlight with her host, old Gross."
+
+A universal peal of laughter greeted these words. "Countess Wildenau,
+for lack of an escort, obliged to wander about with an old
+stone-cutter!"
+
+"Yes, and she availed herself of this virtuous ramble to save the life
+of a despairing girl, who very opportunely attempted to commit suicide,
+just at the time the countess was passing to rescue this precious
+prize. Now she is sitting yonder remodeling one of her charming tailor
+costumes for this last toy of her caprice. She declares that she loves
+the wench most tenderly, will never be separated from her; in short,
+she is playing the novel character of Lady Bountiful, and does not want
+to be disturbed."
+
+"Did you see the fair orphan?"
+
+"No; she protested that it would be unpleasant for the girl to expose
+herself to curious glances, so she conceals this very sensitive young
+lady from profane eyes in her sleeping room. What do you say to all
+this, Prince?"
+
+"I say," replied Prince Hohenheim, an elderly gentleman with a clearly
+cut, sarcastic face, a bald forehead, and a low, but distinct
+enunciation, "that a vivacious, imaginative woman is always influenced
+by the environment in which she happens to find herself. When the
+countess is in the society of scholarly people, she becomes extremely
+learned, if she is in a somewhat frivolous circle, like ours, she
+grows--not exactly frivolous, but full of sparkling wit, and here,
+among these devout enthusiasts, Her Highness wishes to play the part of
+a Stylite. Let us indulge her, it won't last long, a lady's whim must
+never be thwarted. _Ce que femme veut, Dieu le veut!_"
+
+"Has the countess also made a vow to fast?" asked Count Cossigny of the
+Austrian Embassy, and therefore briefly called 'Austria,' "could we not
+dine together?"
+
+"No, she told me that she would not leave the beloved suicide alone a
+moment at present, and therefore she intended to dine at home.
+Yesterday she shuddered at the bare thought of drinking a cup of tea
+made in that witch's kitchen, and only the fact that my valet prepared
+it and I drank it first in her presence finally induced her, at ten
+o'clock last evening, to accept the refreshment. And to-day she will
+eat a dinner prepared by the ladies of the house. There must really be
+something dangerous in the air of Ammergau!"
+
+"To persons of the countess' temperament, yes!" replied Prince
+Hohenheim in his calm manner, then slipping his arm through the
+prince's a moment, whispered confidentially, as they walked on: "I
+advise you, Prince Emil, to get her away as soon as possible."
+
+"Certainly, all the arrangements are made. We shall start directly
+after the performance."
+
+"That is fortunate. To-morrow, then! You have tickets?"
+
+"Oh yes, and what is still better, whole bones."
+
+"That's true," cried Austria, "what a crowd! One might think Sarah
+Bernhardt was going to play the Virgin Mary."
+
+"It's ridiculous! I haven't seen such a spectacle since the Paris
+Exposition!" remarked St. Génois.
+
+"It's worse than Baden-Baden at the time of the races," muttered
+Wengenrode, angrily. "Absurd, what brings the people here?"
+
+"Why, _we_ are here, too," said Hohenheim, smiling.
+
+"_Mon Dieu_, it must be seen once, if people are in the neighborhood,"
+observed Cossigny.
+
+"Are you going directly after the performance, too?" asked Prince Emil.
+
+"Of course, what is there to do here? No gaming--no ladies' society,
+and just think, the burgomaster of Ammergau will allow neither a circus
+nor any other ordinary performance. He was offered _forty thousand
+marks_ by the proprietor of the Circus Rouannet, if he would permit him
+to give performances during the Passion Play! Mademoiselle Rouannet
+told me so herself. Do you suppose that obstinate, stiff-necked
+Philistine could be persuaded? No, it was not in harmony with the
+dignity of the Passion Play. He preferred to refuse the 40,000 marks.
+The Salon Klüber wanted to put up an elegant merry-go-round and offered
+12,000 marks for the privilege. Heaven forbid!"
+
+"I believe these people have the mania of ambition," said Wengenrode.
+
+"Say rather of _saintship_,' corrected Prince Hohenheim.
+
+"Aye, they all consider themselves the holy personages whom they
+represent. We need only look at this arrogant burgomaster, and the
+gentleman who personates Christ, to understand what these people
+imagine themselves."
+
+All joined in the laugh which followed.
+
+"Yes," said Wengenrode, "and the Roman procurator, Pilate, who is a
+porter or a messenger and so drags various loads about, carried up my
+luggage to-day and dropped my dressing case containing a number of
+breakable jars and boxes. 'Stupid blockhead!' I exclaimed, angrily. He
+straightened himself and looked at me with an expression which actually
+embarrassed me. 'My name is _Thomas Rendner_, sir! I beg your pardon
+for my awkwardness, and am ready to make your loss good, so far as my
+means shall allow.'"
+
+"Now tell me, isn't that sheer hallucination of grandeur?"
+
+Some of the gentlemen laughed, but Prince Emil and Hohenheim were
+silent.
+
+"Where shall we go to-morrow evening in Munich to recompense ourselves
+for this boredom?" asked Cossigny.
+
+"To the Casino, I think!" said the prince.
+
+"Well, then we'll all meet there, shall we?"
+
+The party assented.
+
+"Provided that the countess has no commands for us," observed St.
+Génois.
+
+"She will not have any," said the prince, "for either the Play will
+produce an absurd impression which is not to be expected, and then she
+will feel ashamed and unwilling to grant us our triumph because we
+predicted it, or her sentimental mood will draw from this farce a sweet
+poison of emotion, and in that case we shall be too frivolous for her!
+This must first be allowed to exhale."
+
+"Very true," Hohenheim assented. "You are just the man to cope with
+this capricious beauty, Prince Emil. Adieu! May you prosper!"
+
+The gentlemen raised their hats.
+
+"Farewell!" said Cossigny, "by the way, I'll make a suggestion. We
+shall best impress the countess while in this mood, by our generosity;
+let us heap coals of fire on her head by sending a telegram to the
+court-gardener to convert the whole palace into a floral temple to
+welcome her return. It will touch a mysterious chord of sympathy if she
+meets only these mute messengers of our adoration. When on entering she
+finds this surprise and remembers how basely she treated us this
+morning, her heart will be touched and she will invite us to dine the
+day after to-morrow."
+
+"A capital plan," cried Wengenrode and St. Génois, gaily. "Do your
+Highnesses agree?"
+
+"Certainly," replied Hohenheim, with formal courtesy, "when the point
+in question is a matter of gallantry, a Hohenheim is never backward."
+
+"I beg to be allowed to contribute also, but _incognito_. She would
+regard such an attention from me as a piece of sentimentality, and it
+would produce just the contrary effect," Prince Emil answered.
+
+"As you please."
+
+"Let us go to the telegraph office!" cried Wengenrode, eagerly.
+
+"Farewell, gentlemen."
+
+"_Au revoir_, Prince Emil! Are you going to return to the lionesses'
+den?"
+
+"Can you ask?" questioned Hohenheim with a significant smile.
+
+"Then early to-morrow morning at the Play, and at night the Casino,
+don't forget!" Cossigny called back.
+
+The gentlemen, laughing and chatting, strolled down the street to their
+lodgings. The prince watched them a moment, turned, and went back to
+the countess.
+
+"I cannot really be vexed with her, if these associates do not satisfy
+her," he thought.
+
+"Should I desire her to become my wife, if they did? Certainly not. Yet
+if women only would not rush from one extreme to another? Hohenheim is
+perfectly right, she ought not to stay here too long, she must go
+to-morrow."
+
+He had reached the house and entered the neglected old garden where
+huge gnarled fruit trees, bearing small, stunted fruit, interlaced
+their branches above a crooked bench. There, in the midst of the rank
+grass and weeds, sat the countess, her beautiful head resting against
+the mouldy bark of the old trunk, gazing thoughtfully at the luminous
+mountains gleaming in the distance through the tangled boughs and
+shrubbery.
+
+From the adjoining garden of the sculptor Zwink, whose site was
+somewhat higher, a Diana carved in white stone gazed curiously across,
+seeming as if she wished to say to the pensive lady who at that moment
+herself resembled a statue: "Art will create gods for you
+_everywhere_!" But the temptation had no effect, the countess seemed to
+have had no luck with these gods, she no longer believed in them!
+
+"Well, Countess Madeleine, did the light and air lure you out of
+doors?" asked the prince, joyfully approaching her.
+
+"Oh, I could not bear to stay there any longer. Herr Gross' daughters
+are finishing the dress. We will dine here, Prince; the meal can be
+served on a table near the house, under a wild-grape vine arbor. We can
+wait on ourselves for one day."
+
+"For _one_ day!" repeated the prince with great relief; "oh yes, it can
+be managed for one day." Thank Heaven, she had no intention of staying
+here.
+
+"Oh, Prince, see how beautiful, how glorious it is!"
+
+"Beautiful, glorious? Pardon me, but I see nothing to call forth words
+you so rarely use! You must have narrowed your demands if, after the
+view of the wondrous garden of the Isola Bella and all the Italian
+villas, you suddenly take delight in cabbage-stalks, wild-pears, broom,
+and colt's foot."
+
+"Now see how you talk again!" replied the countess, unpleasantly
+affected by his words. "Does not Spinoza say: 'Everything is beautiful,
+and as I lose myself in the observation of its beauty, my pleasure in
+life is increased.'"
+
+"That has not been your motto hitherto. You have usually found
+something to criticise in every object. It seems to me that you have
+wearied of the beautiful and now, by way of a change, find even
+_ugliness_ fair."
+
+"Very true, my friend. I am satisfied, nothing charms me, nothing
+satisfies me, not even the loveliest scene, because I always apply to
+everything the standard of perfection, and nothing attains it." She
+shook herself suddenly as if throwing off a burden. "This must not
+continue, the æsthetic intolerance which poisoned every pleasure must
+end, I will cast aside the whole load of critical analysis and academic
+ideas of beauty, and snap my fingers at the ghosts of Winckelmann and
+Lessing. Here in the kitchen-garden, among cabbage-stalks and colt's
+foot, wild-pear and plum-trees, fanned by the fresh, crystal-clear air
+of the lofty mountains, whose glaciers shimmer with a bluish light
+through the branches, in the silence and solitude, I suddenly find it
+beautiful; beautiful because I am happy, because I am only a human
+being, free from every restraint, thinking nothing, feeling nothing
+save the peace of nature, the delight of this repose."
+
+She rested her feet comfortably on the bench and, with her head thrown
+back, gazed with a joyous expression into the blue air which, after the
+rain, arched above the earth like a crystal bell.
+
+This mood did not quite please the prince. He was exclusively a man of
+the world. His thoughts were ruled by the laws of the most rigid logic,
+whatever was not logically attainable had no existence for him; his
+enthusiasm reached the highest pitch only in the enjoyment of the
+noblest products of art and science. He did not comprehend how any one
+could weary of them, even for a moment, on the one side because his
+calm temperament did not, like the countess' passionate one, exhaust
+everything by following it to its inmost core, and he was thus guarded
+from satiety; on the other because he wholly lacked appreciation of
+nature and her unconscious grandeur. He was the trained vassal of
+custom in the conventional, as well as in every other province. The
+countess, however, possessed some touch of that doctrine of divine
+right which is ready, at any moment, to cast off the bonds of tradition
+and artificial models and obey the impulse of kinship with sovereign
+nature. This was the boundary across which he could not follow her, and
+he was perfectly aware of it, for he had one of those proud characters
+which disdain to deceive themselves concerning their own powers. Yet it
+filled him with grave anxiety.
+
+"What are you thinking of now, Prince?" asked his companion, noticing
+his gloomy mood.
+
+"That I have not seen you so contented for months, and yet I am unable
+to understand the cause of this satisfaction. Especially when I
+remember what it usually requires to bring a smile of pleasure to your
+lips."
+
+"Dear me, must everything be understood?" cried the beautiful woman,
+laughing; "there is the pedant again! Must we be perpetually under
+the curb of self-control and give ourselves an account whether
+what we feel in a moment of happiness is sensible and authorized?
+Must we continually see ourselves reflected in the mirror of our
+self-consciousness, and never draw a veil over our souls and permit God
+to have one undiscovered secret in them?"
+
+The prince silently kissed her hand. His eyes now expressed deep,
+earnest feeling, and stirred by emotion, she laid her other hand upon
+his head:
+
+"You are a noble-hearted man, Prince; though some unspoken,
+uncomprehended idea stands between us, I know your feelings."
+
+Again the rose and the thorn! It was always so! At the very moment her
+soft, sweet hand touched him caressingly, she thrust a dagger into his
+heart. Aye, that was the continual "misunderstanding" which existed
+between them, the thorn in the every rose she proffered.
+
+Women like these are only tolerable when they really love; when a
+powerful feeling makes them surrender themselves completely. Where this
+is not the case, they are, unconsciously and involuntarily, malicious,
+dangerous creatures, caressing and slaying at the same moment.
+
+First, woe betide the man whom _they believe_ they love. For how often
+such beings are mistaken in their feelings!
+
+Such delusions do not destroy the woman, she often experiences them,
+but the man who has shared them with her! Alas for him who has not kept
+a cool head.
+
+The prince was standing with his back turned to the street, gazing
+thoughtfully at the beautiful woman with the fathomless, sparkling
+eyes. Suddenly he saw her start and flush. Turning with the speed of
+lightning, he followed the direction of her glance, but saw nothing
+except the figure of a man of unusual height, with long black hair,
+pass swiftly around the corner and disappear.
+
+"Do you know that gentleman?"
+
+"No," replied the countess frankly, "he is the person whom I saw
+yesterday as we drove up the mountain."
+
+"Pardon the indiscretion, but you blushed."
+
+"Yes, I felt it, but I don't know why," she answered with an almost
+artless innocence in her gaze. The prince could not help smiling.
+
+"Countess, Countess!" he said, shaking his finger at her as if she were
+a child. "Guard your imagination; it will prove a traitor some day."
+
+The countess, as if with a sweet consciousness of guilt, drew down the
+uplifted hand with a movement of such indescribable grace that no one
+could have remained angry with her. The prince knelt at her feet an
+instant, not longer than a blade of grass requires to bend before the
+breeze and rise again, then he stood erect, somewhat paler than before,
+but perfectly calm.
+
+"I'll go in and tell my valet to serve our dinner here."
+
+"If you please, Prince," replied the lady, gazing absently down the
+street.
+
+Andreas Gross entered the garden. "Everything is settled, Your
+Highness. I have talked with Josepha's relatives and guardian and they
+will be very glad to have you take her."
+
+"All, even the Christ-Freyer?"
+
+"Certainly, there is no objection."
+
+She had expected something more and looked at the old man as if for the
+rest of the message, but he added nothing.
+
+"Ought not Freyer to come here, in order to discuss the particulars
+with me?" she asked at last, almost timidly.
+
+"Why, he goes to see no one, as I told you, and he surely would not
+come to speak of Josepha, for he is ashamed of her. He says that
+whatever you do will be satisfactory to him."
+
+"Very well," replied the countess, in a somewhat disappointed tone.
+
+"What a comical tête-à-tête!" a laughing voice suddenly exclaimed
+behind the fence. The countess started up, but it was too late for
+escape; she was caught.
+
+A lady, young and elegantly dressed, accompanied by two older ones,
+eagerly rushed up to her.
+
+"Dear Countess, why have you hidden yourself here at the farthest
+corner of the village? We have searched all Ammergau for you. Your
+coat-of-arms on the carriage and your liveries at the old post-house
+betrayed you. Yes, yes, when people want to travel _incognito_, they
+must not journey with genuine Wildenau elegance. We were more cautious.
+We came in a modest hired conveyance. But what a life this is! I was
+obliged to sleep on straw last night. Hear and shudder! On _straw_! Did
+you have a bed? You have been here since yesterday?"
+
+"Why, Your Highness, pray take breath! Good morning, Baroness! Good
+morning, Your Excellency!"
+
+The Countess von Wildenau greeted all the ladies somewhat absently, yet
+very cordially. "Will you condescend to sit on this bench?"
+
+"Oh, you must sit here, too."
+
+"No, It is not large enough, I am already seated."
+
+She had taken her seat on the root of a tree, with her face turned
+toward the street, in which she seemed to be deeply interested. The
+ladies were accommodated on the bench, and then followed a conversation
+which no pen could describe. This, that, and the other thing, matters
+to which the countess had not given a single thought, an account of
+everything the new comers had heard about the Ammergau people, the
+appearance of the Christ, whom they had already met, a handsome man,
+very handsome, with magnificent hair, and mysterious eyes--not the head
+of Christ, but rather as one would imagine Faust or Odin; but there was
+no approaching him, he was so unsociable. Such a pity, it would have
+been so interesting to talk with him. Rumor asserted that he was in
+love with a noble lady; it was very possible, there was no other way of
+explaining his distant manner.
+
+Countess von Wildenau had become very quiet, the eyes bent upon the
+street had an expression of actual suffering in their depths.
+
+Prince Emil stood in the doorway, mischievously enjoying the situation.
+It was a just punishment for her capricious whims that now, after
+having so insolently refused to see her friends, she should be
+compelled to listen to this senseless chatter.
+
+At last, however, he took pity on her and sent out his valet with the
+table-cloth and plates.
+
+"Oh, it is your dinner hour!" The ladies started up and Her Highness
+raised her lorgnette.
+
+"Ah, Prince Emil's valet! So the faithful Toggenburg is with you."
+
+"Certainly, ladies!" said a voice from the door, as the prince came
+forward. "Only I was too timid to venture into such a dangerous
+circle."
+
+Peals of laughter greeted him.
+
+"Yes, yes; the Prince of Metten-Barnheim timid!"
+
+"At present I am merely the representative of Countess Wildenau's
+discharged courier, whose office, with my usual devotion, I am trying
+to fill, and doing everything in my power to escape the fate of my
+predecessor."
+
+"That of being sent away?" asked the baroness somewhat maliciously.
+
+Countess Madeleine cast a glance of friendly reproach at him. "How can
+you say such things, Prince?"
+
+"Your soup is growing cold!" cried the duchess.
+
+"Where does Your Highness dine?"
+
+"At the house of one of the chorus singers, where we are lodging. A man
+with the bearing of an apostle, and a blacksmith by trade. It is
+strange, all these people have a touch of ideality about them, and all
+this beautiful long hair! Haven't you walked through the village yet?
+Oh, you must, it's very odd; the people who throng around the actors in
+the Passion Play are types we shall not soon see again. I'm waiting
+eagerly for to-morrow. I hope our seats will be near. Farewell, dear
+Countess!" The duchess took the arm of the prince, who escorted her to
+the garden gate. "I hope you will take care that the countess, under
+the influence of the Passion, doesn't enter a convent the day after
+to-morrow."
+
+"Your Highness forgets that I am an incorrigible heretic," laughed
+Madeleine Wildenau, kissing the two ladies in waiting, in her absence
+of mind, with a tenderness which they were at a loss to understand.
+
+The prince accompanied the ladies a short distance away from the house,
+while Madeleine returned to Josepha, as if seeking in the society of
+the sorrowful, quiet creature, rest from the noisy conversation.
+
+"Really, Countess von Wildenau has an over-supply of blessings. This
+magnificent widow's dower, the almost boundless revenue from the
+Wildenau estates, and a host of suitors!" said the baroness, after the
+prince had taken leave to return to "his idol."
+
+"Yes, but she will lose the revenue if she marries again," replied the
+duchess. "The will was made in that way by Count Wildenau because his
+jealousy extended beyond the grave. I know all the particulars. She
+must either remain a widow or make a _very_ brilliant match; for a
+woman of her temperament could _never_ accommodate herself to more
+modest circumstances."
+
+"So she is not a good match?" asked Her Excellency.
+
+"Certainly not, for the will is so worded that on the day she exchanges
+the name of Wildenau for another, the estates, with the whole income,
+go to a side branch of the Wildenau family as there are no direct
+heirs. It is enough to make one hate him, for the Wildenau cousins are
+extravagant and avaricious men who have already squandered one fortune.
+The poor countess will then have nothing except her personal property,
+her few diamonds, and whatever gifts she received from her husband."
+
+"Has she no private fortune?" asked the baroness, curiously.
+
+"You know that she was a Princess Prankenburg, and the financial
+affairs of the Prankenburg family are very much embarrassed. That is
+why the beautiful young girl was sacrificed at seventeen to that
+horrible old Wildenau, who in return was forced to pay her father's
+debts," the duchess explained.
+
+"Oh, so _that's_ the way the matter stands!" said Her Excellency,
+drawing a long breath. "Do her various admirers know it? All the
+gentlemen undoubtedly believe her to be immensely rich."
+
+"Oh, she makes no secret of these facts," replied the duchess kindly.
+"She is sincere, that must be acknowledged, and she endured a great
+deal with her nervous old husband. We all know what he was; every one
+feared him and he tyrannized over his wife. What was all her wealth and
+splendor to her? One ought not to grudge her a taste of happiness."
+
+"She laid aside her widow's weeds as soon as possible. People thought
+that very suspicious," observed the baroness in no friendly tone.
+
+"That is exactly why I say: she is better than her reputation, because
+she scorns falsehood and hypocrisy," replied the duchess, leading the
+way across a narrow bridge. The two ladies in waiting, lingering a
+little behind, whispered: "_She_ scorn falsehood and deception! Why,
+Your Excellency, her whole nature is treachery. She cannot exist a
+moment without acting some farce! With the pious she is pious, with the
+Liberals she plays the Liberal, she coquets with every party to
+maintain her influence as ex-ambassadress. She cannot cease intriguing
+and plotting. Now she is once more assuming the part of youthful
+artlessness to bewitch this Prince Emil. Did you see that look of
+embarrassment just now, like a young girl? It is enough to make one
+ill!"
+
+"Yes, just see how she has duped that handsome, clever prince, the heir
+of a reigning family, too," lamented Her Excellency, who had daughters.
+"It is a shocking affair, he is seen everywhere with her; and yet there
+is no report of a betrothal! What do the men find in her? She
+captivates them all, young and old, there is no difference."
+
+"And she is no longer even _beautiful_. She has faded, lost all her
+freshness, it is nothing but coquetry!" answered the baroness hastily,
+for the duchess had stopped and was waiting for the ladies to overtake
+her. So they walked on in the direction of the Passion Theatre where,
+on the morrow, they were to behold the God of Love, for whose sake they
+made this pious pilgrimage.
+
+"You were rightly served, Countess Madeleine," said the prince
+laughing, as they took their seats at the table. "You sent away your
+true friends and fell into the hands of these false ones."
+
+"The duchess is not false," answered the countess with a weary look,
+"she is noble in thought and act."
+
+"Like all who are in a position where they need envy no one," said the
+prince, pushing aside with his spoon certain little islands of doubtful
+composition which were floating in the soup. "But believe me, with
+these few exceptions, no one save men, deals sincerely with an admired
+woman. Women of the ordinary stamp cannot repress their envy. I should
+not like to hear what is being said of us by these friends on their way
+home."
+
+"What does it matter?" answered his companion, leaving her soup
+untasted.
+
+"Our poor diplomatic corps, which had anticipated so much pleasure in
+seeing you," the prince began again. "I would almost like to ask you a
+favor, Countess!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"That you will invite us to dine day after to-morrow. The gentlemen
+have resolved to avenge themselves nobly by offering you an ovation on
+your return to Munich to-morrow evening."
+
+"Indeed, what is it?"
+
+"I ought not to betray the secret, but I know that you do not like
+surprises. The Wildenau palace will be transformed into a temple of
+flowers. Everything is already ordered, it is to be matchless, fairy
+like!"
+
+The speaker was secretly watching the impression made by his words; he
+must get her away from this place at any cost! The mysterious figure
+which had just called to her cheeks a flush for whose sake he would
+have sacrificed years of his life, then he had noticed--nothing escaped
+his keen eye and ear--her annoyed, almost jealous expression when the
+ladies spoke of the "raven-locked" Christ and his love for some
+high-born dame. She must leave this place ere the whim gained a firm
+hold. The worthy peasant-performer might not object to the admiration
+of noble ladies, a pinchback theatre-saint would hardly resist a
+Countess Wildenau, if she should choose to make him the object of an
+eccentric caprice.
+
+"It is very touching in the gentlemen," said the countess; "let us
+anticipate them and invite them to dine the day after to-morrow."
+
+"Ah, there spoke my charming friend, now I am content with you. Will
+you permit me, at the close of this luxurious meal, to carry the joyous
+tidings to the gentlemen?"
+
+"Do so," she answered carelessly. "And when you have delivered the
+invitation, would you do me the favor to telegraph to my steward?"
+
+"Certainly." He pushed back the plate containing an unpalatable cutlet
+and drew out his note-book to make a memorandum.
+
+"What shall I write?"
+
+"Steward Geres, Wildenau Palace, Munich.--Day after to-morrow, Monday,
+Dinner at 6 o'clock, 12 plates, 15 courses," dictated the countess.
+
+"There, that is settled. But, Countess, twelve persons! Whom do you
+intend to invite?"
+
+"When I return the duchess' visit I will ask the three ladies, then
+Prince Hohenheim and Her Excellency's two daughters will make twelve."
+
+"But that will be terribly wearisome to the neighbors of Her
+Excellency's daughters."
+
+"Yes, still it can't be helped, I must give the poor girls a chance to
+make their fortune! With the exception of Prince Hohenheim, you are all
+in the market!" she said smiling.
+
+"No one could speak so proudly save a Countess Wildenau, who knows that
+every other woman only serves as a foil," replied the prince, kissing
+her hand with a significant smile. She was remarkably gracious that
+day; she permitted her hand to rest in his, there was a shade of
+apology in her manner. Apology for what? He had no occasion to ponder
+long--she was ashamed of having neglected a trusted friend for a
+chimera, a nightmare, which had assumed the form of a man with
+mysterious black eyes and floating locks. The ladies' stories of the
+love affairs of the presumptive owner of these locks had destroyed the
+dream and broken the spell of the nightmare.
+
+"Admirable, it had happened very opportunely."
+
+"But, Countess, the gentlemen will be disappointed, if the ladies,
+also, come. Would it not be much pleasanter without them? You are far
+more charming and entertaining when you are the only lady present at
+our little smoking parties."
+
+"We can have one later. The ladies will leave at ten. Then you others
+can remain."
+
+"And who will be sent away _next_, when you are wearied by this _après
+soirée_? Who will be allowed to linger on a few minutes and smoke the
+last cigarette with you?" he added, coaxingly. He looked very handsome
+at that moment.
+
+"We shall see," replied the countess, and for the first time her voice
+thrilled with a warmer emotion. Her hand still rested in his, she had
+forgotten to withdraw it. Suddenly its warmth roused her, and his blue
+eyes flashed upon her a light as brilliant as the indiscreet glare
+which sometimes rouses a sleeper.
+
+She released it, and as the dinner was over, rose from the little
+table.
+
+"Will you go with me to call on the duchess later?" she asked. "If so,
+I will dress now, while you give the invitation to the gentlemen, and
+you can return afterward."
+
+"As you choose!" replied the prince in an altered tone, for the slight
+variation in the lady's mood had not escaped his notice. "In half an
+hour, then. Farewell!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+
+                      THE EVENING BEFORE THE PLAY.
+
+
+Josepha sat in the countess' room at work on her new dress. She was
+calm and quiet; the delight in finery which never abandons a woman to
+her latest hour--the poorest peasant, if still conscious, asks for a
+nicer cap when the priest comes to bring the last sacrament--had
+asserted its power in her. The countess noticed it with pleasure.
+
+"Shall you finish it soon, Josepha?"
+
+"In an hour, Your Highness!"
+
+"Very well, I shall return about that time, and then we'll try the
+dress on."
+
+"Oh, your ladyship, it's a sin for me to put on such a handsome gown,
+nobody will see me."
+
+"Not here, if you don't wish them to do so, but to-morrow evening we
+shall go to Munich, where you will begin a new life, with no brand upon
+your brow."
+
+Josepha kissed the countess' hand; a few large tears rolled down on the
+dress which was to clothe a new creature. Then she helped her mistress
+to put on a walking toilette, performing her task skillfully and
+quickly. The latter fixed a long, thoughtful look upon her. "You are
+somewhat like your cousin, the Christ, are you not?"
+
+"So people say!"
+
+"I suppose he sees a great many ladies?"
+
+"They all run after him, the high as well as the low. And it isn't the
+strangers only, the village girls are crazy over him, too. He might
+have _any_ one he wanted, it seems as if he fairly bewitched the
+women."
+
+"I heard that the reason for his secluded life was that he had a love
+affair with some noble lady."
+
+"Indeed?" said Josepha carelessly, "I don't know anything about it. I
+don't believe it, though he would not tell me, even if it were true.
+Oh, people talk about him so much, that's one reason for the envy. But
+his secluded life isn't on account of any noble lady! He has had
+nothing to say to anybody here since they refused to let me take part
+in the Play and gossiped so much about me. Though he doesn't speak of
+it, it cuts him to the heart. Alas, I am to blame, and no one else."
+
+Countess Wildenau, obeying a sudden impulse, kissed the girl on the
+forehead: "Farewell, keep up courage, don't weep, rejoice in your new
+life; I will soon return."
+
+As she passed out, she spoke to the Gross sisters commending Josepha to
+their special care.
+
+"The gentlemen are delighted, and send you their most grateful homage,"
+called the prince.
+
+"Then they are all coming?" said Countess Wildenau, taking his arm.
+
+"All, there was no hesitation!" he answered, again noticing in his
+companion's manner the restlessness which had formerly awakened his
+anxiety. As they passed down the street together, her eyes were
+wandering everywhere.
+
+"She is seeking some one," thought the prince.
+
+"Let me tell you that I am charmed with this Ammergau Christ," cried
+the duchess, as they approached the blacksmith's house. She was
+sitting in the garden, which contained a tolerably large manure
+heap, a "Saletl," the name given to an open summer-house, and three
+fruit-trees, amid which the clothes lines were stretched. On the house
+was a rudely painted Madonna, life-size, with the usual bunch of
+flowers, gazing with a peculiar expression at the homage offered to her
+son, or at least, so it seemed to the countess.
+
+"Have you seen him, Duchess? I am beginning to be jealous!" said the
+countess with a laugh intended to be natural, but which sounded a
+little forced.
+
+The visitors entered the arbor; after an exchange of greeting, the
+duchess told her guests that she had been with the ladies to the
+drawing-school, where they had met Freyer. The head-master (the son of
+Countess von Wildenau's host) had presented him to the ladies, and he
+had been obliged to exchange a few words with them, then he made his
+escape. They were "fairly _wild_." His bearing, his dignity, the
+blended courtesy and reserve of his manner, so modest and yet so proud,
+and those eyes!
+
+The prince was on coals of fire.
+
+The blacksmith was hammering outside, shoeing a horse whose hoof was so
+crooked that the iron would not fit. The man's face was dripping with
+sooty perspiration, yet when he turned it toward the ladies, they saw a
+classic profile and soft, dreamy eyes.
+
+"Beautiful hair and eyes appear to be a specialty among the Ammergau
+peasants," said the prince somewhat abruptly, interrupting the duchess.
+"Look at yonder smith, wash off the soot and we shall have a superb
+head of Antinous."
+
+"Yes, isn't that true? He is a splendid fellow, too," replied the
+duchess. "Let us call him here."
+
+The smith was summoned and, wiping the grime from his face with his
+shirt sleeves, modestly approached. The prince watched with honest
+admiration the man's gait and bearing, clear-cut, intelligent features,
+and slender, lithe figure, which betrayed no sign of his hard labor
+save in the tense sinews and muscles of the arms.
+
+"I must apologize," he said in excellent German--the Ammergau people
+use dialect only when speaking to one another--"I am in my working
+clothes and scarcely fit to be seen."
+
+"You have a charming voice. Do you sing baritone?"
+
+"Yes, Your Highness, but I rarely sing at all. My voice unfortunately
+is much injured by my hard toil, and my fingers are growing too stiff
+to play on the piano, so I cannot accompany myself."
+
+"Do you play on the piano?"
+
+"Certainly, Your Highness."
+
+"Good Heavens, where did you learn?"
+
+"Here in the village, Your Highness. Each one of us learns to use some
+instrument, else where should we obtain an orchestra for the Passion?"
+
+"Think of it!" said the duchess in French, "A blacksmith who plays on
+the piano; peasants who form an orchestra!" Then addressing her host in
+German, she added, "I suppose you have a church choir!"
+
+"Certainly, Your Highness."
+
+"And what masses do you perform?"
+
+"Oh, nearly all the beautiful ones, some dating from the ancient
+Cecilian Church music, others from the later masters, Handel, Bach,
+down to the most modern times. A short time ago I sung Gounod's Ave
+Maria in the church, and this winter we shall give a Gethsemane by
+Kempter."
+
+"Is it possible!" said the duchess, "_c'est unique!_ Then you are
+really all artists and ought not to follow such hard trades."
+
+"Yes, Duchess, but we must _live_. Our wives and children must be
+supported. _All_ cannot be wood-carvers, smiths are needed, too. If the
+artisan is not rough, the trade is no disgrace."
+
+"But have you time, with your business, for such artistic work?"
+
+"Oh, yes, we do it in the evenings, after supper. We meet at half past
+seven and often practise our music till twelve or even one o'clock."
+
+"Oh, how tired you must be to study far into the night after the labor
+of the day."
+
+"Oh, that doesn't harm us, it is our recreation and pleasure. Art is
+the only thing which lifts men above their daily cares! I would not
+wish to live, if I did not possess it, and we all have the same
+feeling."
+
+The ladies exchanged glances.
+
+"But, when do you sleep? You must be obliged to rise early in the
+morning."
+
+"Oh, we Ammergau people are excitable, we need little sleep. To bed at
+one and up at five gives us rest enough."
+
+"Well, then, you must live well, or you could not bear it."
+
+"Yes, we live very well, we have meat every Sunday," said the smith
+with much satisfaction.
+
+"_C'est touchant!_" cried the duchess. "Meat _once_ a week? And the
+rest of the time?"
+
+"Oh, we eat something made of flour. My wife is an excellent cook, she
+was the cook in Count P.'s household!" he added with great pride,
+casting an affectionate glance at the plump little woman, holding a
+child in her arms, standing at the door of the house. He would gladly
+have presented this admirable wife to the strangers, but the ladies
+seemed less interested in her.
+
+"What do you eat in the evening?"
+
+"We have coffee at six o'clock, and drink a few glasses of beer when we
+meet at the tavern."
+
+"And do all the Ammergau people live so?"
+
+"All. No one wants anything different."
+
+"Even your Christ?"
+
+"Oh, he fares worse than we, he is unmarried and has no one to care for
+him."
+
+"What a life, dear Countess, what a life!" the duchess, murmured in
+French.
+
+"But you have a piano in your house. If you are able to get such an
+instrument, you ought to afford better food," said Her Excellency.
+
+The blacksmith smiled, "If we had had better food, we should not have
+been able to buy the piano. We saved it from our stomachs."
+
+"That is the true Ammergau spirit," said the countess earnestly. "They
+will starve to secure a piano. Every endeavor is toward the ideal and
+the intellectual, for which they are willing to make any personal
+sacrifice. I have never seen such people."
+
+"Nor have I. It seems as if the Passion Play gave them all a special
+consecration," answered the duchess.
+
+Countess von Wildenau rose. Her thoughts were so far away that she was
+about to take leave without remembering her invitation. But Prince Emil
+said impressively:
+
+"Countess, surely you are forgetting that you intended to _invite_ the
+ladies--."
+
+"Yes, yes," she interrupted, "it had almost escaped my mind." The smith
+modestly went back to his work, for the horse was growing restless, and
+the odor of burnt horn and hair soon pervaded the atmosphere.
+
+Meanwhile the countess delivered her invitation, which was accepted
+with great enthusiasm.
+
+A stately, athletic man in a blouse, carrying a chest on his shoulder,
+passed the ladies. The burden was terribly heavy, for even his
+powerful, well-knit frame staggered under it, and his handsome kingly
+head was bowed almost to the earth.
+
+"Look, Countess, that is Thomas Rendner the Roman procurator. We shall
+soon make the acquaintance of the whole company. We sit here in the
+summer-house like a spider in its web, not a fly can pass unseen."
+
+"Good Heavens, that Pilate!" exclaimed the countess, watching him with
+sympathizing eyes, "Poor man, to-day panting under an oppressive
+burden, to-morrow robed in purple and crowned with a diadem, only to
+exchange them again on the third day, for the porter's dusty blouse,
+and take the yoke upon himself once more. What a contrast, and yet he
+loses neither his balance nor his temper! Indeed I think that we can
+learn as much here outside of the Passion Play, as from the spectacle
+itself."
+
+"Yes, if we watch with your deep, thoughtful eyes, my dear Countess!"
+said the duchess, kissing the speaker's brow. "We will discuss this
+subject farther when we drive with you the day after to-morrow."
+
+The ladies parted. Madeleine von Wildenau, leaning on the prince's arm,
+walked silently through the crowd which now, on the eve of the play,
+thronged the narrow streets. The din and tumult were enough to deprive
+one of sight and hearing. Dazed by the confusion, she clung closely to
+her companion's arm.
+
+"Good Heavens, is it possible that Christianity still possesses such a
+power of attraction!" she murmured, involuntarily, while struggling
+through the throng.
+
+The ground in the Ettal road trembled under the roll of carriage
+wheels. The last evening train had arrived, and a flood of people and
+vehicles poured into the village already almost crushed beneath the
+tide of human beings. Horses half driven to death, dragging at a gallop
+heavy landaus crowded with six or eight persons. Lumbering wagons
+containing twenty or thirty travellers just as they had climbed in,
+sometimes half clinging to the steps or the boxes of the wheels, swayed
+to and fro; intoxicated, excited by the mad rush and the fear of being
+left behind--raging and shrieking like a horde of unchained fiends come
+to disturb the sacred drama rather than pious pilgrims who wished to
+witness it, the frantic mob poured in. "_Sauve qui peut_" was the
+motto, the prince lifted the countess on a small post by the roadside.
+Just at that moment the fire-brigade marched by to watch the theatre.
+It was said that several of the neighboring parishes, envious of
+Ammergau, had threatened to ruin the Play by setting the theatre on
+fire. Fire engines and strangers' carriages passed pell-mell. The
+people of Ammergau themselves, alarmed and enraged by the cruel threat,
+were completely disconcerted; passionate discussions, vehement
+commands, and urgent entreaties were heard on all sides. Prompt and
+energetic action was requisite, the fate of all Ammergau was at stake.
+
+The bells now began to ring and at the same moment the first of the
+twenty-five cannon shots which were to consecrate the morrow's festival
+was discharged, and the musicians passed through the streets.
+
+The air fairly quivered with the deafening uproar of all these mingling
+waves of sound. Darkness was gathering, the countess grew giddy, she
+felt as if she were stifling in the tumult. A pair of horses fell just
+below them, causing a break in the line of carriages, which the prince
+used to get his companion across, and she at last reached home, almost
+fainting. Her soul was stirred to its inmost depths. What was the power
+which produced such effects?
+
+Was this the calm, petty doctrine, which had been inculcated so
+theoretically and coldly at the school-room desk and from the pulpit,
+and with which, when a child, she has been disgusted by an
+incomprehensible school-catechism? Was this the doctrine which, from
+earliest childhood, had been nothing more than a wearisome dead letter,
+to which, as it had become the religion of the state, an official visit
+to church was due from time to time, just as, on certain days, cards
+were left on ambassadors and government officials?
+
+The wind still bore from the village the noise of the throngs of
+people, the ringing of the bells, and the thunder of the cannon,
+blended with occasional bursts of music. The countess had had similar
+experiences when tidings of great victories had been received during
+the last war, but those were _facts_. For the first time in her life
+she asked herself if Christianity was a fact? And if not, if it was
+only an idea, what inherent power, after the lapse of nearly two
+thousand years, produced such an effect?
+
+Why did all these people come--why did she _herself_? The human race is
+homesick, it no longer knows for what; it is only a vague impulse, but
+one which instinctively draws it in the direction where it perceives a
+sign, a vestige of what it has lost and forever seeks. Such, she knows
+it now, such is the feeling of all the throngs that have flocked hither
+to-day, she realized that at this moment she was a microcosm of weary,
+wandering mankind seeking for salvation.
+
+And as when, deceived and disappointed in everything, we seek the
+picture of some dead friend, long since forgotten, and press it weeping
+to our lips, she clung to the image of the Redeemer. Now that
+everything had deluded her, no system which had boastfully promised a
+victory over calamity and death had stood the test, after one makeshift
+had supplanted another without supplying what was lacking, after all
+the vaunted remedies of philosophy and materialism proved mere
+palliatives which make the evil endurable for the moment but do not
+heal it, suffering, cheated humanity was suddenly seeking the image of
+the lost friend so long forgotten. But a dead friend cannot come forth
+from a picture, a painted heart can no longer beat. Could _Christ_ rise
+again in His image? Could _His_ word live once more on the lips of a
+stranger? And would the drops of artificial blood, trickling from the
+brow of the personified Messiah, possess redeeming power?
+
+That was the miracle which attracted the throngs from far and near,
+_that_ must be the marvel, and tomorrow it would be revealed.
+
+"Of what are you dreaming, Countess Madeleine?" asked the prince after
+a pause which she had spent in the wild-grape arbor near the house
+gazing into vacancy, with her head resting on her hand. She looked up,
+glancing at him as if she had entirely forgotten his presence. "I don't
+know what is the cause of my emotion, the tumult in the village has
+stirred me deeply! I feel that only potent things could send such a
+storm before them, and it seems as if it was the portent of some
+wonderful event!"
+
+"Good Heavens! What extravagant fancies, my dear Countess! I believe
+you add to all your rich gifts the dangerous one of poesy! I admire and
+honor you for it--but I can perceive in this storm nothing save a proof
+that curiosity is the greatest and most universal trait in human
+character, and that these throngs desire nothing more than the
+satisfaction of their curiosity. The affair is fashionable just now,
+and that explains the whole."
+
+"Prince, I pity you for what you have just said," replied the countess,
+rising. Her face wore the same cold, lifeless expression as on the day
+of her arrival.
+
+"But, my dearest friend, for Heavens's sake tell me, did _you_ and _I_
+come from any other motive than curiosity?"
+
+"You, no! I, yes!"
+
+"Don't say that, _chère amie_. You, the scholar, superior to us all in
+learning; you, the disciple of Schopenhauer, the proud philosopher, the
+believer in Nirvâna."
+
+"Yes, I, Prince!" cried the countess, "The philosopher who was not
+happy for an hour, not content for a moment. What is this Nirvâna? A
+stone idol, which the fruitless speculation of our times has conjured
+from the rubbish of archæological excavations, and which stares at us
+with its vacant eyes until we fall into an intellectual hypnotism which
+we mistake for peace." An expression of bitter sarcasm rested on her
+lips. "I came here to bring pessimism and Christianity face to face. I
+thought it would be very novel to see the stone idol Nirvâna, with his
+hands on his lap and the silence of eternal death on his lips, watch
+the martyr, dripping with sweat and blood, bear His own cross to the
+place of execution and cheerfully take up the work where Buddha
+faltered; on the boundary of non-existence. I wanted to see how the two
+would treat each other, if for nothing more than a comparative study of
+religion."
+
+"You are irresistible in your charming mockery, dearest Countess, yet
+logically I cannot confess myself conquered!" replied the prince. The
+countess smiled: "Of course, when did a man ever acknowledge that to a
+woman, where intellectual matters were concerned? A sunny curl, the
+seductive arch of an upper lip, a pair of blue eyes sparkling with
+tears will make you lords of creation the dupes of the most ordinary
+coquette or even the yielding toy of the dullest ignorance. We women
+all know it! But, if we assail your dry logic, you are as unconquerable
+as Antæus so long as he stood upon the earth! You, too, could only be
+vanquished by whoever had the power to lift you from the ground where
+_you_ stand."
+
+"You might have that power, Countess. Not by your arguments, but by
+your eyes. You know that _one_ loving glance would not only lift me
+from the earth but into heaven, and then you could do with me what you
+would."
+
+"You have forfeited the loving glance! Perhaps it might have _rewarded_
+your assent, but it would never _purchase_ it, I scorn bribed judges,
+for I am sure of my cause!"
+
+"Countess, pardon my frankness: it is a pity that you have so much
+intellect."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it leads you into sophistical by-ways; your tendency to
+mysticism gives an apparently logical foundation and thereby
+strengthens you the more in this dangerous course. A more simple,
+temperate judgment would _guard_ you from it."
+
+"Well, Prince--" she looked at him pityingly, contemptuously--"may
+Heaven preserve me from _such_ a judgment as well as from all who may
+seek to supply its place to me. Excuse me for this evening. I should
+like to devote an hour to these worthy people and soothe my nerves--I
+have been too much excited by the scenes we have witnessed. Goodnight,
+Prince!"
+
+Prince Emil turned pale. "Good-night, Countess. Perhaps to-morrow you
+will be somewhat more humane in this cat and mouse game; to-day I am
+sent home with a bleeding wound." With lips firmly compressed, he bowed
+his farewell and left the garden. Madeleine looked after him: "He is
+angry. I cannot help him, he deserved it. Oh, foolish man, who deemed
+yourself so clever! Do you suppose this glowing heart desires no other
+revelations than those of pure reason? Do you imagine that the
+arguments of all the philosophical systems of humanity could offer it
+that for which it longs? Shall I find it? Heaven knows! But one thing
+is certain, I shall no longer seek it in _you_."
+
+The sound of moans and low sobs came from the chamber above the
+countess' room. It was Josepha. Countess Wildenau passed through the
+little trap-door and entered it. The girl was kneeling beside the bed,
+with her face buried in the pillows, to shut out the thunder of the
+cannon and the sound of the bells, which summoned the actors in the
+sacred Play from which she alone, the sinner, the outcast, was shut
+out.
+
+Mary Magdalene, too, had sinned and erred, yet she had been suffered to
+remain near the Lord. She was permitted to touch His divine body and to
+wipe His feet with her hair! But _she_ was not allowed to render this
+service to His _image_! She grasped the mass of wonderful silken locks
+which fell in loosened masses over her shoulders. What did she care for
+this beautiful hair now? She would fain cut it off and throw it into
+the Ammer or, better still, bury it in the earth, the earth on which
+the Passion Theatre stood. With a hasty movement, she snatched a pair
+of shears which lay beside the bed, and just as the countess' foot
+touched the threshold, a sharp, cutting sound was heard and the most
+beautiful red hair that ever adorned a girl's head fell like a dying
+flame at her feet. "Josepha, what are you doing?" cried the countess,
+"Oh, what a pity to lose that magnificent hair!"
+
+"What do I care for it?" sobbed Josepha, "It can never be seen in the
+Play! When the performance is over, I will slip into the theatre before
+we leave and bury it under the stage, where the cross stands. There I
+will leave it, there it shall stay, since I am no longer able to make
+it serve Him." She threw herself into the countess' arms and hid her
+tear-stained face upon her bosom. Alas, she was not even allowed to
+appear among the populace, she alone was banished from the cross, yet
+she knew that the _real_ Saviour would have suffered her to be at His
+feet as well as Mary Magdalene.
+
+"Console yourself, Josepha, your belief does not deceive you. The real
+Christ would not have punished you so cruelly. Men are always more
+severe than God. Whence should they obtain divine magnanimity, they are
+so petty. They are like a servant who is arrogant and avaricious for
+his master because he does not understand his wishes and turns from the
+door the poor whom his master would gladly have welcomed and
+refreshed." She kissed the young girl's brow. "Be calm, Josepha, gather
+up your hair, you shall bury it to-morrow in the earth which is so dear
+to you. I promise that I will think of you when the other Magdalene
+appears; your shadow shall stand between her and me, so that I shall
+see you alone! Will this be a slight consolation to you?"
+
+Josepha, for the first time, looked up into the countess' eyes with a
+smile. "Yes, it is a comfort. Ah, you are so kind, you take pity on me
+while all reproach and condemn me."
+
+"Oh, Josepha! If people judged thus, which of us would be warranted in
+casting the first stone at you?" The countess uttered the words with
+deep earnestness, and thoughtfully left the room.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+
+                           THE PASSION PLAY.
+
+
+Day was dawning. The first rays of the morning sun, ever broader and
+brighter, were darting through the air, whose blue waves surged and
+quivered under the flaming couisers of the ascending god of day.
+Aphrodite seemed to have bathed and left her veil in the foam of the
+wild mountain stream into which the penitent Magdalene had tried to
+throw herself. Apollo in graceful sport, had gathered the little white
+clouds to conceal the goddess and they waved and fluttered merrily in
+the morning breeze around the rushing chariot. Then, as if the
+thundering hoof-beats of the fiery chargers had echoed from the vaulted
+arch of the firmament, the solemn roar of cannon announced the approach
+of the _other_ god, the poor, unassuming, scourged divinity in His
+beggar-garb. The radiant charioteer above curbed his impatient steeds
+and gazed down from his serene height upon the conflict, the torturing,
+silent conflict of suffering upon the bloody battlefield of the
+timorous earth. Smiling, he shook his divine head, for he could not
+understand the cause of all this. Why should a god impose upon Himself
+such misery and humiliation! But he knows that He was a more powerful
+god, for _he_ was forced to fly from the zenith when the former rose
+from His grave.--So thought Helios, glancing over at the gentle goddess
+Selene, whose wan face, paling in his presence, was turned full toward
+the earth. She could not bear to behold the harrowing spectacle, she
+was the divinity of peace and slumber, so, averting her mild
+countenance, she bade Helios farewell and floated away to happier
+realms.
+
+Blest gods, ye who sit throned in eternal beauty, eternal peace; ye who
+are untouched by the grief and suffering of the human race, who descend
+to earth merely to taste the joys of mortals when it pleases ye to add
+them to your divine delights, look down upon the gods whom sorrowing
+humanity, laden with the primeval curse, summoned from his heaven to
+aid, where none of ye aided, to give what none of ye gave, _the heart's
+blood of love!_ Gaze from your selfish pleasures, ye gay Hellenic
+deities, behold from your Valhalla, grim divinities of the Norsemen,
+look hither, ye dull, stupid idols of ancient India, hither where, from
+love for the human race, a god bleeds upon the martyr's cross--behold
+and turn pale! For when the monstrous deed is done, and the night has
+passed. He will cast aside His humble garb and shine in His divine
+glory. Ye will then be nothing but the rainbow which shimmers in
+changeful hues above His head! "Excelsior!" echoes a voice through the
+pure morning-sky and: "Gloria in excelsis, Deo!" peals from the church,
+as the priests chant the early mass.
+
+An hour later the prince stopped before the door in a carriage to
+convey the countess to the Passion Theatre, for the way was long and
+rough.
+
+He gave the Gross sisters strict orders to have everything ready for
+Countess Wildenau's departure at the close of the performance.
+
+"The carriages must stand packed with the luggage before the theatre
+when we come out. The new maid must not be late."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau made no objection to all this, she was very pale
+and deeply agitated. Ludwig Gross, who was also just going to the
+theatre, was obliged to enter the carriage, too; the countess would
+listen to no refusal. The prince looked coldly at him. Ludwig Gross
+raised his hat, saying courteously:
+
+"May I request an introduction?"
+
+The lady blushed. "Herr Gross, head-master of the drawing-school!" She
+paused a moment in embarrassment, Ludwig's bronze countenance still
+retained its expectant expression.
+
+"The Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim," said the prince, relieving
+the countess' embarrassment, and raising his hat.
+
+The drawing-master's delicate tact instantly perceived Prince Emil's
+generous intention.
+
+"Pardon me," he said, with a shade of bashfulness, "I did not know that
+I was in the presence of a gentleman of such high rank--"
+
+"No, no, you were perfectly right," interrupted Prince Emil, who was
+pleased with the man's modest confidence, and immediately entered into
+conversation with him. He asked various questions, and Ludwig described
+how he was frequently compelled to get suitable figures for his tableau
+from the forests and the fields, because the better educated people all
+had parts assigned to them, and how difficult it was to work with this
+untrained material; especially as he had barely two or three minutes to
+arrange a tableau containing three hundred persons.
+
+The countess gazed absently at the motley throngs surging toward the
+Passion Theatre. The fresh morning breeze blew into the carriage. All
+nature was full of gladness, a festal joy which even the countess'
+richly caparisoned horses seemed to share, for they pranced gaily and
+dashed swiftly on as if they would fain vie with the sun-god's steeds
+above. The Bavarian flags on the Passion Theatre fluttered merrily
+against the blue sky, and now another discharge of cannon announced the
+commencement of the performance. The carriage made its way with much
+difficulty through the multitude to the entrance, which was surrounded
+by natives of Ammergau. Ludwig Gross ordered the driver to stop, and
+sprang out. All respectfully made way for him, raising their hats: "Ah,
+Herr Gross! The drawing-master! Good-day!"
+
+"Good-day," replied Ludwig Gross, then unceremoniously giving the
+countess his arm, requested the prince to follow and led them through
+several side passages, to which strangers were not admitted, into the
+space reserved for boxes, where two fine-looking young men, also
+members of the Gross family, the "ushers" were taking tickets. Ludwig
+lifted his hat and left them to go to his work. The prince shook hands
+with him and expressed his thanks. "A cultured man!" he said, after
+Ludwig had gone. Meanwhile one of the ushers had conducted the countess
+to her seat.
+
+There directly before her lay the long-desired goal! A huge
+amphitheatre built in the Greek style. Between the boxes, which
+overlooked the whole, and the stage, under the open sky, extended a
+vast space, whose seats rose to the height of a house. The orchestra,
+too, was roofless, as also were the proscenium and the stage, at whose
+extreme right and left stood the houses of Pilate and Caiaphas, between
+which stretched the streets of Jerusalem. The chorus was stationed on
+the proscenium and here all the great scenes in which the populace took
+part were performed. The main stage, occupying the centre only, as in
+the Greek theatre, was a temple-like covered building with a curtain,
+in a certain sense a theatre within a theatre, where the scenes that
+required a smaller frame were set. Beyond, the whole was surrounded by
+the amphitheatre of the lofty mountains gazing down in majestic repose,
+surmounting and crowning all.
+
+The orchestra was playing the last bars of the overture and the surging
+and hum of the thousands who were finding their seats had at last
+ceased. The chorus came forward, all the singers clad in the Greek
+costume, at their head as choragus Johannes Diemer, arrayed in diadem
+and toga. A majestic figure of true priestly dignity, he moved across
+the stage, fully imbued with the spirit of the sublime drama which it
+was his honorable office to open. Deep silence now reigned throughout
+the audience. It seemed as if nature herself was listening outside, the
+whispering morning breeze held its breath, and not a single bird-note
+was heard. The repose of the Sabbath spread its wings protectingly over
+the whole scene, that nothing should disturb this consecrated mood.
+
+As the stately figures advanced wearing their costly robes with as much
+dignity as if they had never been clad in any other garments, or would
+be forced again to exchange them for the coarse torn blouse of toil; as
+they began to display the art acquired with such self-sacrificing
+devotion after a wearisome day of labor, and the choragus in the
+purest, noblest intonation began the first lines:
+
+
+           "Sink prostrate, overwhelmed with sacred awe,
+            Oh, human race, bowed by the curse of God!"
+
+
+the countess' heart was suddenly stirred by a new emotion and tears
+filled her eyes.
+
+           "Eternal God, Thy stammering children hear,
+            For children's language, aye, is stammering."
+
+
+In these words the devout lips expressed the sacred meaning underlying
+the childish pastime, and those who heard it feel themselves once more
+children--children of the one omnipresent Father.
+
+The prologue was over. The curtain of the central stage rolled up, and
+the first tableau, the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise, was
+revealed. Countess Madeleine gazed at it with kindly eyes, for Ludwig
+Gross' refined artistic instinct was visible to her, his firm hand had
+shaped the rude material into these graceful lines. A second tableau
+followed--the Adoration of the Cross. An empty cross, steeped in light,
+stood on a height worshipped by groups of children and angels. The
+key-note was thus given and the drama began.--The first scene was
+before the temple at Jerusalem--the Saviour's entry was expected.
+Madeleine von Wildenau's heart throbbed heavily. She did not herself
+know the cause of her emotion--it almost robbed her of breath--will it
+be _he_ whom she expects, to whom she is bound by some incomprehensible,
+mysterious spell? Will she find him?
+
+Shouts of "Hosanna!" echoed from the distance--an increasing tumult was
+audible. A crowd of people, rejoicing and singing praises, poured out
+of the streets of Jerusalem--the first heralds of the procession
+appeared, breathlessly announcing His approach.
+
+An indescribable fear overpowered the countess--but it now seemed to
+her as if she did not dread the man whom she expected to see, but Him
+he was to personate. The audience, too, became restless, a vibrating
+movement ran like a faint whisper through the multitude: "He is
+coming!"
+
+The procession now poured upon the stage, a surging mass--passionately
+excited people waving palms, and in their midst, mounted on a miserable
+beast of burden--the Master of the World.
+
+The countess scarcely dared to look, she feared the dismounting, which
+might shock her æsthetic sense. But lightly as a thought, with scarcely
+a movement, he had already slipped from the animal, not one of the
+thousands saw how.
+
+"It is he!" Madeleine's brain whirled, an unspeakable joy overwhelmed
+her: "When shall I behold thee face to face!" her own words, spoken the
+evening before, rang in her ears and--the realization was standing
+before her.
+
+"The Christ!"--a thrill of reverence stirred the throng. Aye, it was
+He, from head to foot! He had not uttered a word, yet all hearts sank
+conquered at his feet. Aye, that was the glance, the dignity, the
+calmness of a God! That was the soul which embraced and cherished a
+world--that was the heart of love which sacrificed itself for man--died
+upon the cross.
+
+Now the lips parted and, like an airy, winged genius the words soared
+upward: A voice like an angel's shouting through the universe: "Peace,
+peace on earth!"--now clear and resonant as Easter bells, now gentle
+and tender as a mother's soothing song beside the bed of her sick
+child. "Source of love--thou art He!"
+
+Mute, motionless, as if transfigured, the countess gazed at the
+miracle--and with her thousands in the same mood. But from her a secret
+bond stretched to him--from her alone among the thousands--a prophetic,
+divine bond, woven by their yearning souls on that night after she had
+beheld the face from which the God so fervently implored now smiled
+consent.
+
+The drama pursued its course.
+
+Christ looked around and perceived the traders with their wares, and
+the tables of the money-changers in the court of the temple. As cloud
+after cloud gradually rises in the blue sky and conceals the sun, noble
+indignation darkened the mild countenance, and the eyes flashed with a
+light which reminded Helios, watching above, of the darts of Zeus.
+
+"My House," saith the Lord, "shall be called a house of prayer, but ye
+have made it a den of thieves!" And as though His wrath was a power,
+which emanating from Him acted without any movement of His, a hurricane
+seemed to sweep over the stands of the traders, while not a single
+vehement motion destroyed the calmness of the majestic figure. The
+tables were overthrown, the money rolled on the ground, the cages of
+the doves burst open, and the frightened birds soared with arrowy speed
+over the heads of the spectators. The traders raged and shrieked, "My
+doves, my doves! My money!" and rushed to save the silver coins and
+scattered wares. But He stood motionless amid the tumult, like the
+stone of which He said: "Whosoever shall fall upon that stone shall be
+broken; but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder."
+
+Then, with royal dignity. He swung the scourge over the backs bowed to
+seize their paltry gains. "Take these things hence, make not my
+Father's house a house of merchandise!" He did not strike, yet it
+seemed as though the scourge had fallen, for the dealers fled in wild
+confusion before the uplifted hand, and terror seized the Pharisees.
+They perceived that He who stood before them was strong enough to crush
+them all! His breath had the might of the storm, His glance was
+consuming flame--His lash felled without striking--He need only will,
+and "in three days" He would build a new temple as He boasted. Roaring
+like the sea in a tempest, the exulting populace surrounded Him,
+yielding to His sway as the waves recede before the breath of the
+mighty ruler.--Aye, this was the potent spirit of the Jehovah of the
+Jews, the Zeus of the Greeks, the Jupiter of the Romans. This man was
+the Son of the God who created Heaven and earth, and it would be an
+easy matter for the Heir of this power to crush the Pharisees without
+stirring a finger--if He desired, but that was the point; it was _not_
+His will, for His mission was a different one! The head once more
+drooped humbly, the brow, corrugated with anger, smoothed. "I have done
+my Father's bidding--I have saved the honor of His House!" The storm
+died away into a whisper, and the mild gaze rested forgivingly upon His
+foes.
+
+The countess' virile heart almost rebelled against this humility, and
+would fain have cried out: "Thou _art_ the Son of God, help Thyself!"
+Her sense of justice, formed according to human ideas, was opposed to
+this toleration, this sacrifice of the most sacred rights! Like Helios
+in the vault above, she could not understand the grandeur, the divinity
+of self humiliation, of suffering truth and purity to be judged by
+falsehood and hypocrisy--instead of using His own power to destroy
+them.
+
+As if the personator of Christ suspected her thoughts he suddenly fixed
+his glance, above the thousands of heads, directly upon her and like a
+divine message the words fell from his lips: "But in many hearts, day
+will soon dawn!" Then, turning with indescribable gentleness to His
+disciples. He added: "Come, let us go into the temple and there worship
+the Father!" He walked toward it, yet it did not seem as if his feet
+moved; He vanished from the spectators' eyes noiselessly, gradually,
+like the fleeting of a happy moment.
+
+The countess covered her eyes with her hand--she felt as if she were
+dreaming a sadly beautiful dream. The prince watched her silently, but
+intently. Nods and gestures of greeting came from the boxes on all
+sides--from the duchess, the diplomatic corps, and numerous
+acquaintances who happened to be there--but the countess saw nothing.
+
+The drama went on. It was the old story of the warfare of baseness
+against nobility, falsehood against truth. The Pharisees availed
+themselves of the injury to the tradesmen's interests to make them
+their allies. The populace, easily deluded, was incited against the
+agitator from "Galilee," who wished to rob them of the faith of their
+fathers and drive the dealers from the temple. So the conspiracy arose
+and swelled to an avalanche to crush the sacred head! Christ had dealt
+a rude blow to all that was base in human nature, but baseness was the
+greater power, to which even God must succumb while He remained a
+dweller upon earth. But, even in yielding, He conquered--death bestowed
+the palm of victory!
+
+Between the first and second act was a tableau, "Joseph sold by his
+Brethren." With thoughtful discrimination every important incident in
+the Play was suggested by a corresponding event in the Old Testament,
+represented by a tableau, in order to show the close connection between
+the Old and the New Testament and verify the words: "that all things
+which are written may be fulfilled."
+
+At last the curtain rose again and revealed the Sanhedrim assembled for
+judgment. Here sat the leaders of the people of Israel, and also of
+Oberammergau. In the midst was Caiaphas, the High-priest, the Chief of
+the Sanhedrim, the burgomaster of Ammergau and chief manager of the
+Passion Play. At his right and left sat the oldest members of the
+community of Ammergau, an old man with a remarkably fine face and long
+white beard, as Annas, and the sacristan, an impressive figure, as
+Nathanael. On both sides, in a wide circle, were the principal men in
+the parish robed as priests and Pharisees. What heads! What figures!
+The burgomaster, Caiaphas, rose and, with a brief address, opened the
+discussion. Poor Son of God, how wilt Thou fare in the presence of this
+mighty one of earth? The burgomaster was the type of the fanatical,
+ambitious priest, not a blind, dull zealot--nay, he was the
+representative of the aristocratic hierarchy, the distinguished men of
+the highest intelligence and culture. A face rigid as though chiselled
+from stone, yet animated by an intellect of diabolical superiority,
+which would never confess itself conquered, which no terror could
+intimidate, no marvel dazzel, no suffering move. Tall and handsome in
+the very flower of manhood, with eyes whose glances pierced like
+javelins, a tiara on his haughty head, robed in all the pomp of
+Oriental priestly dignity, every clanking ornament a symbol of his
+arrogant, iron nature, every motion of his delicate white hands, every
+fold of his artistically draped mantle, every hair of his flowing beard
+a proof of that perfect conscious mastery of outward ceremonial
+peculiar to those who are accustomed to play a shrewdly planned part
+before the public. Thus he stood, terrible yet fascinating, repellent
+yet attractive, nay to the trained eye of an artist who could
+appreciate this masterly blending of the most contradictory influences,
+positively enthralling.
+
+This was the effect produced upon Countess Wildenau. The feeling of
+indication roused by the incomprehensible humiliation of the divine
+Martyr almost tempted her to side with the resolute foe who manfully
+defended his own honor with his god's. A noble-hearted woman cannot
+withstand the influence of genuine intellectual manfulness, and until
+the martyrdom of Christ became _heroism_, the firm, unyielding
+high-priest exerted an irresistible charm over the countess. The
+conscious mastery, the genius of the performer, the perfection of his
+acting, roused and riveted the artistic interest of the cultivated
+woman, and as, with the people of Ammergau, the individual and the
+actor are not two distinct personages, as among professional artists,
+she knew that the man before her also possessed a lofty nature, and the
+nimbus of Ammergau constantly increased, the spirit ruling the whole
+obtained still greater sway. The sacristan was also an imposing figure
+as Nathanael, the second high-priest, who, with all the power of
+Pharisaical superiority and sophistry, appeared as Christ's accuser.
+The eloquence of these two judges was overpowered, and into the surging
+waves of passion, Annas, in his venerable dignity, dropped with steady
+hand the sharp anchor of cold, pitiless resolve. An imposing, sinister
+assembly was this great Sanhedrim, and every spectator involuntarily
+felt the dread always inspired by a circle of stern, cruel despots.
+Poor Lamb, what will be Thy fate?
+
+Destiny pursued its course. In the next act Christ announced His
+approaching death to the disciples. Now it seemed as though He bore
+upon His brow an invisible helm of victory, on which the dove of the
+Holy Spirit rested with outspread wings. Now He was the hero--the hero
+who _chose_ death. Yet meekness was diffused throughout His whole
+bearing, was the impress of His being; the meekness which spares others
+but does not tremble for itself. A new perception dawned upon the
+countess: to be strong yet gentle was the highest nobility of the
+soul--and as here also the character and its personator were one, she
+knew that the men before her possessed these attributes: strength and
+gentleness. Now her defiant spirit at last melted and she longed to
+take Him to her heart to atone for the injustice of the human race. She
+thanked Simon for receiving the condemned man under his hospitable
+roof.
+
+"Aye, love Him--I, too, love Him?" she longed to cry out to those who
+were ministering to Him. But when Mary Magdalene touched and anointed
+Him she averted her eyes, for she grudged her the privilege and thought
+of her poor, beautiful penitent at home. As He uttered the words:
+"Rise, Magdalene. Darkness is gathering, and the wintry storms are
+raging. Yet be comforted! In the early morning, in the Spring garden,
+thou wilt see me again!" tears streamed form her eyes; "When will the
+morning dawn that I shall greet Thee--in the Spring garden, redeeming
+love?" asked a voice in her heart.
+
+But when Mary appeared and Christ took leave of His mother--when the
+latter sank upon the breast of her divine son and He consoled her with
+a voice whose sweetness no ear had ever heard equalled, a feeling which
+she had never experienced took possession of her: it was neither envy
+nor jealousy--only a sorrowful longing: "If I were only in her place!"
+
+And when Christ said: "My hour is come; now is my soul troubled; and
+what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour: but for this cause
+came I unto this hour!" and Mary, remembering Simeon's words, cried:
+"Simeon, thy prediction--'a sword shall pierce through thy own soul,
+also'--is now fulfilled!" the countess, for the first time, understood
+the meaning of the pictures of Mary with the seven swords in her heart;
+her own was bleeding from the keenness of her anguish. Now, overpowered
+with emotion, He again extended His arms: "Mother, mother, receive thy
+son's fervent gratitude for all the love and faith which thou hast
+bestowed in the thirty-three years of my life: Farewell, dear mother!"
+
+The countess felt as if she would no longer endure it--that she must
+sink in a sea of grief and yearning.
+
+"My son, where shall I see Thee again?" asked Mary.
+
+"Yonder, dear mother, where the words of the Scripture shall be
+fulfilled: 'He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep
+before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth.'" Then, while
+the others were weeping over the impending calamity, Christ said: "Be
+not overcome in the first struggle. Trust in me." And, as He spoke, the
+loving soul knew that it might rest on Him and be secure.
+
+He moved away. Serene, noble, yet humble, He went to meet His death.
+
+The curtain fell--but this time there was no exchange of greetings from
+the boxes, the faces of their occupants were covered to conceal the
+tears of which they were ashamed, yet could not restrain.
+
+The countess and her companion remained silent. Madeleine's forehead
+rested on her hand--the prince was secretly wiping his eyes.
+
+"People of God, lo, thy Saviour is near! The Redeemer, long promised,
+hath come!" sang the chorus, and the curtain rising, showed Christ and
+his disciples on the way to Jerusalem. It was the moment that Christ
+wept over Jerusalem. Tears of the keenest anguish which can pierce the
+heart of a God, tears for the sins of the world! "Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
+if thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things
+which belongs unto thy peace! But now they are hid from thine eyes."
+
+The disciples entreated their Master not to enter the hostile city and
+thus avoid the crime which it was destined to commit. Or to enter and
+show Himself in His power, to judge and to reward.
+
+"Children, what ye desire will be done in its time, but my ways are
+ordered by my Father, and thus saith the Lord: 'My thoughts are not
+your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.'"
+
+And, loyal and obedient, He followed the path of death. Judas alone
+lingered behind, resolving to leave the fallen greatness which promised
+no earthly profit and would bring danger and disgrace upon its
+adherents. In this mood he was met by Dathan, Andreas Gross, who was
+seeking a tool for the vengeance of the money changers. Finding it in
+Judas, he took him before the Sanhedrim.
+
+An impressive and touching tableau now introduced a new period, the
+gathering of manna in the wilderness, which refreshed the starving
+children of Israel. A second followed: The colossal bunch of grapes
+from Canaan. "The Lord miraculously fed the multitude in the desert
+with the manna and rejoiced their hearts with the grapes of Canaan, but
+Jesus offers us a richer banquet from Heaven. From the mystery of His
+body and blood flows mercy and salvation!" sang the chorus. The curtain
+rose again, Christ was at supper with His disciples. He addressed them
+in words of calm farewell. But they did not yet fully understand, for
+they asked who would be _first_ in His heavenly kingdom?
+
+His only answer was to lay aside His upper garment, gird, with divine
+dignity, a cloth about His loins, and kneel to perform for the
+disciples the humblest service--_the washing of their feet_.
+
+The human race looked on in breathless wonder--viewless bands of angels
+soared downward and the demons of pride and defiance in human nature
+fled and hid themselves in the inmost recesses of their troubled
+hearts.
+
+Aye, the strong soul of the woman, which had at first rebelled against
+the patience of the suffering God--now understood it and to her also
+light came, as He had promised and, by the omnipotent feeling which
+urged her to the feet of Him who knelt rendering the lowliest service
+to the least of His disciples, she perceived the divinity of
+_humility_!
+
+It was over. He had risen and put on His upper garment; He stood with
+His figure drawn up to His full height and gazed around the circle:
+"Now ye are clean, but not _all_!"--and His glance rested mournfully on
+Peter, who before the cock crew, would deny Him thrice, and on Judas,
+who would betray Him for thirty pieces of silver.
+
+Then He again took His seat and, as the presentiment of approaching
+death transfigures even the most commonplace mortal and illumines the
+struggling soul at the moment of its separation from the body, so the
+_God_ transfigured the earthly form of the "Son of Man" and appeared
+more and more plainly on the pallid face, ere he left the frail husk
+which He had chosen for His transitory habitation. And as the dying man
+distributes his property among his heirs, _He_ bequeathed His. But He
+had nothing to give, save Himself. As the cloud dissolves into millions
+of raindrops which the thirsting earth drinks, He divided Himself into
+millions of atoms which, in the course of the ages, were to refresh
+millions of human beings with the banquet of love. His body and His
+blood were his legacy. He divided it into countless portions, to
+distribute it among countless heirs, yet it remained _one_ and the
+_part_ is to every one _the whole_. For as an element remains a great
+unity, no matter into how many atoms it may dissolve--as water is
+always water whether in single drops or in the ocean--fire always fire
+in sparks or a conflagration--so Christ is _always Christ_ in the drops
+of the chalice and the particles of the bread, as well as in His
+original person, for He, _too_, is an element, _the element of
+divinity_.
+
+As kindred kneel around the bedside of a loved one who is dying, bedew
+his hand with tears, and utter the last entreaty: "Forgive us, if we
+have ever wounded you?" the thousands of spectators longed to kneel,
+and there was not one who did not yearn to press his lips to the
+wonderful hand which was distributing the bread, and cry: "Forgive us
+our sins." But as reverence for the dying restrains loud lamentations,
+the spectators controlled themselves in order not to sob aloud and thus
+disturb the divine peace throned upon the Conqueror's brow.
+
+Destiny now relentlessly pursued its course. Judas sold his master for
+thirty pieces of silver, and they were paid to him before the
+Sanhedrim. The pieces of silver rang on the stone table upon which they
+were counted out. It seemed as if the clear sound was sharply piercing
+the world, like the edge of a scythe destined to mow down the holiest
+things.
+
+The priests exulted, there was joy in the camp of the foes! All that
+human arrogance and self-conceit could accomplish, raised its head
+triumphantly in Caiaphas. The regal priest stood so firmly upon
+the height of his secular power that nothing could overthrow him,
+and--Jesus of Nazareth must die!
+
+So the evening came when Christ went with the twelve disciples to the
+Mount of Olives to await His doom.
+
+"Father, the hour is come; glorify thy Son, that thy Son may also
+glorify thee! I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do--I
+have manifested thy name unto men! Father, sanctify them through thy
+truth; that they all may be one, as thou, Father, art in me and I in
+thee!"
+
+He climbed the lonely mount in the garden of olive trees to pass
+through the last agony, the agony of death, which seized upon even the
+Son of God so long as He was still bound by the laws of the human body.
+
+"Father, if thou be willing, let this cup pass from me!"
+
+Here Freyer's acting reached its height; it was no longer semblance,
+but reality. The sweat fell in burning drops from his brow, and tears
+streamed from his eyes. "Yet not _my_ will, but _Thine_ be done--Thy
+sacred will!" Clasping his trembling hands, he flung himself prone on
+the ground, hiding his tear-stained face, "Father--Thy son--hear Him!"
+
+The throng breathed more and more heavily, the tears flowed faster. The
+heart of all humanity was touched with the anguished cry: "Oh, sins of
+humanity, ye crush me--oh, the terrible burden--the bitter cup!"
+
+With this anguish the Son of God first drew near to the human race, in
+this suffering He first bent down to mortals that they might embrace
+Him lovingly like a mortal brother. And it was so at this moment, also!
+They would fain have dragged Him from the threatening cross, defended
+Him with their own bodies, purchased his release at any cost--too late,
+_this_ repentance should have come several centuries earlier.
+
+The hour of temptation was over. The disciples had slept and left him
+alone--but the angel of the Lord had comforted Him, the angel whom God
+sends to every one who is deserted by men. He was himself again--the
+Conqueror of the World!
+
+Judas came with the officers and pressed upon the sweet mouth on which
+the world would fain hang in blissful self-forgetfulness--the traitor's
+kiss.
+
+"Judas, can you touch those lips and not fall at the feet of Him you
+have betrayed?" cried a voice in Madeleine von Wildenau's heart. "Can
+you _kiss_ the lips which so patiently endure the death-dealing caress,
+and not find your hate transformed to love?" Ah, only the divine can
+recognize the divine, only sympathetic natures attract one another!
+Judas is the symbol of the godless world, which would no longer
+perceive God's presence, even if He came on earth once more. The
+soldiers, brawny fellows, fell to the ground as He stood before them
+with the words: "I am Jesus of Nazareth!" and He was forced to say:
+"Rise! Fear ye not!" that they might accomplish their work--but Judas
+remained unmoved and delivered Him up.
+
+Christ was a prisoner and descended step by step into the deepest
+ignominy. But no matter through what mire of baseness and brutality
+they dragged Him, haling Him from trial to trial--nothing robbed Him of
+the majesty of the Redeemer! And if His speech had been full of power,
+so was His silence! Before the Sanhedrim, before Herod, and finally
+before Pilate, _He_ was the king, and the mighty ones of earth were
+insignificant in _His_ presence.
+
+"Who knows whether this man is not the son of some god?" murmured the
+polytheistic Romans--and shrank from the mystery which surrounded the
+silent One.
+
+The impression here was produced solely by Freyer's imposing calmness
+and unearthly eyes. The glance he cast at Herod when the latter ordered
+him to perform a miracle--darken the judgment chamber or transform a
+roll of papyrus into a serpent--that one glance, full of dignity and
+gentleness, fixed upon the poor, short-sighted child of the dust was a
+greater miracle than all the conjuring tricks of the Egyptian
+Magicians.
+
+But this very silence, this superiority, filled the priest with furious
+rage and hastened His doom, which He disdained to stay by a single
+word.
+
+True, Pilate strove to save Him. The humane Roman, with his
+aristocratic bearing, as Thomas Rendner personated him with masterly
+skill, formed a striking contrast to the gloomy, fanatical priests, but
+he was not the man for violent measures, and the furious leaders
+understood how to present this alternative. The desire to conciliate,
+the refuge of all weak souls which shrink in terror from catastrophes,
+had already wrested from him a shameful concession--he had suffered the
+Innocent One to be delivered to the scourge.
+
+With clenched teeth the spectators beheld the chaste form, bound to the
+stake and stained with blood, quiver beneath the lashes of the
+executioner, without a murmur of complaint from the silent lips. And
+when He had "had enough," as they phrased it, they placed him on a
+chair, threw a royal mantle about Him, and placed a sceptre of reeds in
+the hand of the mock-king. But He remained mute. The tormentors grew
+more and more enraged--they wanted to have satisfaction, to gloat over
+the moans of the victim--they dealt Him a blow in the face, then a
+second one. Christ did not move. They thrust Him from the chair so that
+He fell on the ground--no one ever forgot the beautiful, pathetic
+figure--but He was still silent! Then one of the executioners brought a
+crown made of huge thorns; He was raised again and the martyr's diadem
+was placed upon His brow. The sharp thorns resisted, they would not fit
+the noble head, so His tormentors took two sticks laid cross-ways, and
+with them forced the spiked coronals so low on His forehead that drops
+of blood flowed! Christ quivered under the keen agony--but--He was
+silent! Then He was dragged out of His blood, a spectacle to the
+populace.
+
+Again Helios above gave the rein to his radiant coursers--he thought of
+all the horrors in the history of his divine House, of the Danaides, of
+the chained Prometheus, and of others also, but he could recall nothing
+comparable to _this_, and _loathed the human race_! Averting his face,
+he guided his weary steeds slowly downward from the zenith.
+
+The evening breeze blew chill upon the scene of agony.
+
+A furious tumult filled the streets of Jerusalem. The priests were
+leading the raging mob to the governor's house--fanning their wrath to
+flame with word and gesture. Caiaphas, Nathanael, the fanatics of
+Judaism--Annas and Ezekiel, each at the head of a mob, rushed from
+three streets in an overwhelming concourse. The populace surged like
+the angry sea, and unchaining yet dominating the elements with word and
+glance the lofty figure of Caiaphas, the high priest, towered in their
+midst.
+
+"Shake it off! Cast from you the yoke of the tempter!"
+
+"He has scorned Moses and the prophets--He has blasphemed God--to the
+cross with the false Messiah!"
+
+"May a curse rest on every one who does not vote for his death--let him
+be cut off from the hereditary rights of our fathers!"
+
+Thus the four leaders cast their watchword like firebrands among the
+throngs, and the blaze spread tumultuously.
+
+"The Nazarene must die--we demand judgment," roared the people. New
+bands constantly flocked in. "Oh, fairest day of Israel! Children, be
+resolute! Threaten a general insurrection. The governor wished to hear
+the voice of the people--let him hear it!" shrieked Caiaphas, and his
+passion stirred the mob to fiercer fury. All pressed forward to the
+house of Pilate. The doors opened and the governor came out. The
+handsome, classic countenance of the Roman expressed deep contempt, as
+he surveyed the frantic mob. Behind him appeared the embodiment of
+sorrow--the picture of all pictures--the Ecce Homo--which all the
+artists of the world have striven to represent, yet never exhausted the
+subject. Here it stood personified--before the eyes of men, and even
+the governor's voice trembled as he pointed to it.
+
+"Behold, _what_ a man!"
+
+"Crucify him!" was the answer.
+
+Pilate endeavored to give the fury of the mob another victim: the
+criminal Barabbas was brought forth and confronted with Christ. The
+basest of human beings and the noblest! But the spectacle did not move
+them, for the patience and serenity of the Martyr expressed a grandeur
+which shamed them all, and _this_ was the intolerable offense! The
+sight of the scourged, bleeding body did not cool their vengeance
+because they saw that the spirit was unbroken! It _must_ be quelled,
+that it might not rise in judgment against them, for they had gone too
+far, the ill-treated victim was a reproach to them--he could not be
+suffered to live longer.
+
+"Release Barabbas! To death with the Nazarene, crucify him!"
+
+Vainly the governor strove to persuade the people. The cool,
+circumspect man was too weak to defy these powers of hatred--he would
+fain save Christ, yet was unwilling to drive the fanatics to extremes.
+So he yielded, but the grief with which he did so, "to avert a greater
+misfortune," absolved him from the terrible guilt whose curse he cast
+upon the leaders' head.
+
+The expression with which he pronounced the sentence, uttered the
+words: "Then take ye Him and crucify Him!" voices the grief of the man
+of culture for eternal beauty.
+
+The bloodthirsty mob burst into a yell of exultation when their victim
+was delivered to them--now they could cool their vengeance on Him! "To
+Golgotha--hence with him to the place of skulls!"
+
+Christ--and Thy sacrifice is for _these_. Alas, the day will come,
+though perchance not for thousands of years, when Thou wilt perceive
+that they were not _worthy_ of it. But that will be the day of
+judgment!
+
+A crowd surged though the streets of Jerusalem--in their midst the
+condemned man, burdened with the instrument of his own martyrdom.
+
+In one corner amid the populace stood Mary, surrounded by a group of
+friends, and the mother beheld her son urged forward, like a beast
+which, when it falls, is forced up with lashes and pressed on till it
+sinks lifeless.
+
+High above in the vaulted heavens, veiled by the gathering dude of
+evening, the gods whispered to one another with secret horror as they
+watched the unprecedented sight. Often as they might behold it, they
+could never believe it.
+
+The procession stopped before a house--Christ sank to the earth.
+
+A man came out and thrust Him from the threshold.
+
+"Hence, there is no place here for you to rest."
+
+Ahasuerus! The tortured sufferer looked at him with the gaze of
+a dying deer--a single mute glance of agony, but the man on whom
+it fell nevermore found peace on earth, but was driven from every
+resting-place, from land to land, from one spot to another--hunted on
+ceaselessly through the centuries--wandering forever.
+
+"He will die on the road"--cried the first executioner, Christ had
+dragged Himself a few steps forward, and fell for the second time.
+
+"Drive him on with blows!" shrieked the Pharisees and the people.
+
+"Oh! where is the sorrow like unto my sorrow?" moaned Mary, covering
+her face.
+
+"He is too weak, some one must help him," said the executioner. He
+could not be permitted to die there--the people must see Him on the
+pillory.
+
+His face was covered with sweat and blood--tears flowed from His eyes,
+but the mute lips uttered no word of complaint. Then His friends
+ventured to go and render whatever aid was permitted. Veronica offered
+Him her handkerchief to wipe His face, and when He returned it, it bore
+in lines of sweat and blood, the portrait which, throughout the ages,
+has exerted the silent magic of suffering in legend and in art.
+
+Simon of Cyrene took the cross from the sinking form to bear it for Him
+to Golgotha, and the women of Jerusalem wept. Christ was standing by
+the roadside exhausted, but when He saw the women with their children,
+the last words of sorrow for their lost ones rose from His heart to His
+lips:
+
+"Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and
+your children."
+
+"For, behold, the days are coming, in the which they shall say: Blessed
+are the barren, and the wombs that never bare, and the paps which never
+gave suck!"
+
+"Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the
+hills. Cover us."
+
+"For if they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the
+dry?"
+
+"Drive the women away! Spare him no longer--hence to the place of
+execution!" the priests commanded.
+
+"To Golgotha--Crucify him!" roared the people. The women were driven
+away; another message from the governor was unheeded, the procession
+moved steadily on to death.
+
+But Mary did not leave Him. With the few faithful friends she joined
+her son's march of suffering, for the steadfastness of maternal love
+was as great as her anguish.
+
+There was a whispering and a murmuring in the air as if the Valkyries
+and the gods of Greece were consulting whether they should aid the Son
+of Man. But they were powerless; the sphere of the Christian's god was
+closed against them.
+
+The scene changed. The chorus, robed in sable mourning cloaks, appeared
+and began the dirge for the dying God. The simple chant recalled an
+ancient Anglo-Saxon song of the cross, composed in the seventh century
+by the skald Caedmon, and which for more than a thousand years lay
+buried in the mysterious spell of the rune.
+
+
+   [4]Methought I saw a Tree in mid-air hang
+      Of trees the brightest--mantling o'er with light-streaks;
+      A beacon stood it, glittering with gold.
+
+            All the angels beheld it,
+            Angel hosts in beauty created.
+            Yet stood it not a pillory of shame.
+            Thither turned the gaze
+            Of spirits blessed,
+            And of earthly pilgrims
+            Of noblest nature.
+            This tree of victory
+            Saw I, the sin-laden one.
+
+            Yet 'mid the golden glitter
+            Were traces of honor.
+            Adown the right side
+            Red drops were trickling.
+            Startled and shuddering
+            Noted I the hovering vision
+            Suddenly change its hue.
+
+            Long lay I pondering
+            Gazing full sadly
+            At the Saviour's Rood.
+            When lo, on my ear
+            Fell the murmur of speech;
+            These are the words
+            The forest uttered:
+
+           "Many a year ago,
+            Yet still my mind holds it,
+            Low was I felled.
+            The dim forest within
+            Hacked from my roots,
+            Haled on by rude woodmen
+            Bracing sinewy shoulders
+            Up the steep mountain side,
+            Till aloft on the summit
+            Firmly they fastened me.
+
+           "I spied the Frey[5] of man with eager haste
+            Approach to mount me; neither bend nor break
+            I durst, for so it was decreed above
+            Though earth about me shook.
+
+           "Up-girded him then the young hero,
+            That was God Almighty,
+            Strong and steady of mood,
+            Stept he on the high gallows:
+            Fearless amongst many beholders
+            For he would save mankind.
+            Trembled I when that 'beorn' climbed me,
+            But I durst not bow to earth."
+
+            There hung the Lord of Hosts
+            Swart clouds veiled the corpse,
+            The sun's light vanished
+            'Neath shadows murk.
+            While in silence drear
+            All creation wept
+            The fall of their king.
+            Christ was on Rood--
+            Thither from afar
+            Men came hastening
+            To aid the noble one.
+
+            Everything I saw,
+            Sorely was I
+            With sorrows harrowed,
+            Yet humbly I inclined
+            To the hands of his servants
+            Striving much to aid them.
+
+            Now from the Rood
+            The mighty God,
+            Spear-pierced and blood-besprent,
+            Gently men lowered;
+            They laid him down limb-weary,
+            They stood at the lifeless head,
+            Gazing at Heaven's Lord,
+            And he there rests awhile,
+            Weary after his mickle death-fight.
+
+
+Such was the paean of Caedmon, mighty among the writers of runes, in
+the seventh century after the Saviour's death. Now, twelve centuries
+later, it lived again, and the terrible event was once more enacted,
+just as the skald had sung, just as it happened nearly two thousand
+years ago.
+
+What is space, what is time to aught that is rooted in love?
+
+The dirge of the chorus had died away. A strange sound behind the
+curtain accompanied the last verses--the sound of hammering--could it
+be? No, it would be too horrible. The audience heard, yet _would_ not
+hear. A deathlike stillness pervaded the theatre--the blows of the
+hammer became more and more distinct--the curtain rolled upward--there
+He lay with His feet toward the spectators, flat upon the cross. And
+the executioners, with heavy blows, drove nails through His limbs; they
+pierced the kind hands which had never done harm to any living
+creature, but wherever they were gently laid, healed all wounds and
+stilled all griefs; the feet which had borne the divine form so lightly
+that it seemed to float over the burning sand of the land and the
+surging waves of the sea, always on a mission of love. Now He lay in
+suffering on the ground, stretched upon the accursed timbers--half
+benumbed, like a stricken stag. At the right and left stood the lower
+crosses of the two criminals. These men merely had their arms thrown
+over the cross-beams and tied with ropes, only the feet were fastened
+with nails. Christ alone was nailed by both hands and feet, because the
+Pharisees were tortured by a foreboding that He could not be wholly
+killed. Had they dared, they would have torn Him to pieces, and
+scattered the fragments to the four winds, in order to be sure that He
+would not rise on the third day, as He had predicted.
+
+The executioners had completed the binding of the thieves. "Now the
+King of the Jews must be raised."
+
+"Lift the cross! Take hold!" the captain commanded. The spectators held
+their breath, every heart stood still! The four executioners grasped it
+with their brawny arms. "Up! Don't let go!"
+
+The cross is ponderous, the men pant, bracing their shoulders against
+it--their veins swell--another jerk--it sways--"Hold firm! Once
+more--put forth your strength!" and in a wide sweep it moved
+upward--all cowered back shuddering at the horrible spectacle.
+
+"It is not, It cannot be!" Yet it is, it can be! Horror thrilled the
+spectators, their limbs trembled. One grasped another, as if to hold
+themselves from falling. It was rising, the cross was rising above the
+world! Higher--nearer! "Brace against it--don't let go!"
+
+It stood erect and was firm.
+
+There hung the divine figure of sorrow, pallid and wan. The nails were
+driven through the bleeding hands and feet--and the eye which would
+fain deny was forced to witness it, the heart that would have
+prevented, was compelled to bear it. But the scene could be endured no
+longer, the grief restrained with so much difficulty found vent in loud
+sobs, and the hands trembling with a feverish chill were clasped with
+the _same_ feeling of adoring love. Unspeakable compassion was poured
+forth in ceaseless floods of tears, and rose gathering in a cloud of
+pensive melancholy around the head of the Crucified One to soothe His
+mortal anguish. By degrees their eyes became accustomed to the scene
+and gained strength to gaze at it. Divine grace pervaded the slender
+body, and--as eternal beauty reconciles Heaven and hell and
+transfigures the most terrible things--horror gradually merged into
+devout admiration of the perfect human beauty revealed in chaste repose
+and majesty before their delighted gaze. The countess had clasped her
+hands over her breast. The world lay beneath her as if she was floating
+above with Him on the cross. She no longer knew whether he was a _man_
+or Christ Himself--she only knew that the universe contained _nothing_
+save that form.
+
+Her eyes were fixed upon the superhuman vision, tear after tear
+trickled down her cheeks. The prince gazed anxiously at her, but she
+did not notice it--she was entranced. If she could but die now--die at
+the foot of the cross, let her soul exhale like a cloud of incense,
+upward to Him.
+
+Darkness was gathering. The murmuring and whispering in the air drew
+nearer--was it the Valkyries, gathering mournfully around the hero who
+scorned the aid. Was it the wings of the angel of death? Or was it a
+flock of the sacred birds which, legend relates, strove to draw out the
+nails that fastened the Saviour to the cross until their weak bills
+were crooked and they received the name of "cross-bills."
+
+The sufferer above was calm and silent. Only His lambent eyes spoke,
+spoke to those invisible powers hovering around Him in the final hour.
+
+Beneath His cross the soldiers were casting lots for His garments--the
+priests were exulting--the brute cynicism was watching with wolfish
+greed for the victim to fall into its clutches, while shouting with
+jeering mocking: If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross!
+
+He trusted in God; let Him deliver Him now, if He will have Him!--
+
+"Thou that destroyest the temple and buildest it in three days, save
+thyself. Show thy power, proud King of the Jews!"
+
+The tortured sufferer painfully turned His head.
+
+"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.--"
+
+Then one of the malefactors, even in his own death agony, almost mocked
+Him, but the other rebuked him; "We receive the due reward of our
+deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss!" Then he added
+beseechingly: "Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom."
+
+Christ made the noble answer: "Verily I say unto thee, to-day shalt
+thou be with me in paradise."
+
+There was a fresh roar of mockery from the Pharisees. "He cannot save
+himself, yet promises the kingdom of heaven to others."
+
+But the Saviour no longer heard, His senses were failing; He bent His
+head toward Mary and John. "Woman, behold thy son! Son, behold thy
+mother!"
+
+The signs of approaching death appeared. He grew restless--struggled
+for breath, His tongue clung to His palate.
+
+"I thirst."
+
+The sponge dipped in vinegar was handed to him on a long spear.
+
+He sipped but was not refreshed. The agony had reached its climax:
+"Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" He cried from the depths of His
+breaking heart, a wonderful waving motion ran through the noble form in
+the last throes of death. Then, with a long sigh, He murmured in the
+tones of an Æolian harp: "It is finished! Father, into Thy hands I
+commend my spirit!" gently bowed his head and expired.
+
+A crashing reverberation shook the earth. Helios' chariot rolled
+thundering into the sea. The gods fled, overwhelmed and scattered by
+the hurrying hosts of heaven. Dust whirled upward from the ground and
+smoke from the chasms, darkening the air. The graves opened and sent
+forth their inmates. In the mighty anguish of love, the Father rends
+the earth as He snatches from it the victim He has too long left to
+pitiless torture! The false temple was shattered, the veil rent--and
+amid the flames of Heaven the Father's heart goes forth to meet the
+maltreated, patient, obedient Son.
+
+"Come, thou poor martyr!" echoed yearningly through the heavens. "Come,
+thou poor martyr!" repeated every spectator below.
+
+Yet they were still compelled to see the beloved body pierced with a
+sharp lance till the hot blood gushed forth--and it seemed as if the
+thrust entered the heart of the entire world! They were still forced to
+hear the howling of the wolves disputing over the sacred corpse--but at
+last the tortured soul was permitted to rest.
+
+The governor's hand had protected the lifeless body and delivered it to
+His followers.
+
+The multitude dispersed, awe-stricken by the terrible portents--the
+priests, pale with terror, fled to their shattered temple. Golgotha
+became empty. The jeers and reviling had died away, the tumult in
+nature had subsided--and the sacred stillness of evening brooded over
+those who remained. "He has fulfilled His task--He has entered into the
+rest of the Father." The drops of blood fell noiselessly from the
+Redeemer's heart upon the sand. Nothing was heard save the low sobbing
+of the women at the foot of the cross.
+
+Then pitying love approached, and never has a pæan of loyalty been sung
+like that which the next hour brought. The first blades were now
+appearing of that love whose seed has spread throughout the world!
+
+Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus came with ladders and tools to take
+down the body.
+
+Ascending, they wound about the lifeless form long bands of white
+linen, whose ends they flung down from the cross. These were grasped by
+the friends below as a counterpoise to lower it gently down. Joseph and
+Nicodemus now began to draw out the nails with pincers; the cracking
+and splintering of the wood was heard, so firm was the iron.
+
+Mary sat on a stone, waiting resignedly, with clasped hands, for her
+son. "Noble men, bring me my child's body soon!" she pleaded softly.
+
+The women spread a winding sheet at her feet to receive it.
+
+At last the nails were drawn out and--
+
+
+           "Now from the rood
+            The mighty God
+            Men gently lowered."
+
+
+Cautiously one friend laid the loosened, rigid arms of the dead form
+upon the other's shoulders, that they might not fall suddenly, Joseph
+of Arimathea clasped the body: "Sweet, sacred burden, rest upon my
+shoulders."
+
+He descended the ladder with it. Half carried, half lowered in the
+bands, the lifeless figure slides to the foot of the instrument of
+martyrdom.
+
+Nicodemus extended his arms to him: "Come, sacred corpse of my only
+friend, let me receive you."
+
+They bore Him to Mary--
+
+
+           "They laid Him down limb-weary
+            They stood at the lifeless head."
+
+
+that the son might rest once more in the mother's lap.
+
+She clasped in her arms the wounded body of the son born in anguish the
+second time.
+
+Magdalene knelt beside it. "Let me kiss once more the hand which has so
+often blessed me." And with chaste fervor the Penitent's lips touched
+the cold, pierced hand of the corpse.
+
+Another woman flung herself upon Him. "Dearest Master, one more tear
+upon Thy lifeless body!" And the sobbing whisper of love sounded sweet
+and soothing like vesper-bells after a furious storm.
+
+But the men stood devoutly silent:
+
+
+           "Gazing at Heaven's Lord,
+            And He there rests awhile
+            Weary after his mickle death-fight."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII.
+
+                                FREYER.
+
+
+The Play was over. "Christ is risen!" He had burst the sepulchre and
+hurled the guards in the dust by the sight of His radiant apparition.
+He had appeared to the Penitent as a simple gardener "early in the
+morning," as He had promised, and at last had been transfigured and had
+risen above the world, bearing in His hand the standard of victory.
+
+The flood of human beings poured out of the close theatre into the open
+air. Not loudly and noisily, as they had come--no, reverently and
+gravely, as a funeral train disperses after the obsequies of some noble
+man; noiselessly as the ebbing tide recedes after flood raised by a
+storm. These were the same people, yet they _returned_ in a far
+different mood.
+
+The same vehicles in which yesterday the travelers had arrived in so
+noisy a fashion, now bore them away, but neither shouts nor cracking of
+whips was heard--the drivers knew that they must behave as if their
+carriages were filled with wounded men.
+
+And this was true. There was scarcely one who did not suffer as if the
+spear which had pierced the Saviour's heart had entered his own, who
+did not feel the wounds of the Crucified One in his own hands and feet!
+The grief which the people took with them was grand and godlike, and
+they treasured it carefully, they did not desire to lose any portion of
+it, for--we love the grief we feel for one beloved--and to-day they had
+learned to love Christ.
+
+So they went homeward.
+
+The last carriages which drew up before the entrance were those of the
+countess and her friends. The gentlemen of the diplomatic corps were
+already standing below, waiting for Countess Wildenau to assign them
+their seats in the two landaus. But the lady was still leaning against
+the pillar which supported one end of the box. Pressing her
+handkerchief to her eyes, she vainly strove to control her tears. Her
+heart throbbed violently, her breath was short and quick--she could not
+master her emotion.
+
+The prince stood before her, pale and silent, his eyes, too, were
+reddened by weeping.
+
+"Try to calm yourself!" he said firmly. "The ladies are still in their
+box, the duchess seems to expect you to go to her. A woman of the
+world, like yourself, should not give way so."
+
+"Give way, do you call it?" repeated Madeleine, who did not see that
+Prince Emil, too, was moved. "We shall never understand each other."
+
+At this moment the ladies left their box and crossed the intervening
+space. They were the last persons in the theatre. The duchess, without
+a word, threw her arms around Countess von Wildenau's neck. Her
+ladies-in-waiting, too, approached with tearful eyes, and when the
+duchess at last released her friend from her embrace, the baroness
+whispered: "Forgive me, I have wronged you as well as many others--even
+yesterday, forgive me." The same entreaty was expressed in Her
+Excellency's glance and clasp of the hand as she said: "Whoever sees
+this must repent every unloving word ever uttered; we will never forget
+that we have witnessed it together."
+
+"I thank you, but I should have borne you no ill will, even had I known
+what you have now voluntarily confessed to me!" replied the countess,
+kissing the ladies with dry, burning lips.
+
+"Shall we go?" asked the duchess. "We shall be locked in."
+
+"I will come directly--I beg you--will your Highness kindly go first? I
+should like to rest a moment!" stammered the countess in great
+confusion.
+
+"You are terribly unstrung--that is natural--so are we all. I will wait
+for you below and take you in my carriage, if you wish. We can weep our
+fill together."
+
+"Your Highness is--very kind," replied the countess, scarcely knowing
+what she answered.
+
+When the party had gone down stairs, she passionately seized Prince
+Emil's arm: "For Heaven's sake, help me to escape going with them. I
+will not, _cannot_ leave. I beseech you by all that is sacred, let me
+stay here."
+
+"So it is settled! The result is what I feared," said the prince with a
+heavy sigh. "I can only beg you for your own sake to consider the
+ladies. You have invited them to dine day after to-morrow--"
+
+"I know it--apologize for me--say whatever you please--you will
+know--you can manage it--if you have ever loved me--help me! Drive with
+the ladies--entertain them, that they may not miss me!"
+
+"And the magnificent ovation which the gentlemen have arranged at your
+home?"
+
+"What do I care for it?"
+
+"A fairy temple awaits you at the Palace Wildenau, and you will stay
+here? What a pity to lose the beautiful flowers, which must now wither
+in vain."
+
+"I cannot help it. For Heaven's sake, act quickly--some one is coming!"
+She was trembling in every limb with fear--but it was no member of the
+party sent to summon her. A short man with clear cut features stood
+beside her, shrewd loyal eyes met her glance. "I saw that you were
+still here, Countess, can I serve you in any way?"
+
+"Thank Heaven, it is Ludwig Gross!" cried the excited woman joyously,
+taking his arm. "Can you get me to your father's house without being
+seen?"
+
+"Certainly, I can guide you across the stage, if you wish!"
+
+"Quick, then! Farewell, Prince--be generous and forgive me!"
+
+She vanished.
+
+The prince was too thoroughly a man of the world to betray his feelings
+even for an instant. The short distance down the staircase afforded him
+ample time to decide upon his course. The misfortune had happened, and
+could no longer be averted--but it concerned himself alone. Her name
+and position must be guarded.
+
+"Have you come without the countess?" called the duchess.
+
+"I must apologize for her, Your Highness. The performance has so
+completely unstrung her nerves that she is unable to travel to-day. I
+have just placed her in her landlord's charge promising not only to
+make her apologies to the ladies, but also endeavor to supply her
+place."
+
+"Oh, poor Countess Wildenau!" said the duchess, kindly. "Shall we not
+go to her assistance?"
+
+"Permit me to remind your Highness that we have not a moment to lose,
+if we wish to catch the train!"
+
+"Is it possible! Then we must hurry."
+
+"Yes--and I think rest will be best for the countess at present,"
+answered Prince Emil, helping the ladies into the carriage.
+
+"Well, we shall see her at dinner on Tuesday? She will be able to
+travel to-morrow?"
+
+"Oh, I hope so."
+
+"But, Prince Emil! What will become of our flowers?" asked the
+gentlemen.
+
+"Oh, they will keep until to-morrow!"
+
+"I suppose she has no suspicion?"
+
+"Of course not, and it is far better, for had she been aware of it, no
+doubt she would have gone to-day, in spite of her illness, and made
+herself worse."
+
+The gentlemen assented. "Still it's a pity about the flowers. If they
+will only keep fresh!"
+
+"She will let many a blossom wither, which may well be mourned!"
+thought the prince bitterly.
+
+"Will you drive with us, Prince?" asked the duchess.
+
+"If Your Highness will permit! Will you go to the Casino to-night, as
+we agreed, gentlemen?" he called as he entered the vehicle.
+
+"Not I," replied Prince Hohenheim. "I honestly confess that I am not in
+the mood."
+
+"Nor I," said St. Génois. "This has moved me to that--the finest circus
+in the world might be here and I would not enter! The burgomaster of
+Ammergau was right in permitting nothing of the kind."
+
+"Yes, I will take back everything I said yesterday; I went to laugh and
+wept," remarked Wengenrode.
+
+"It has robbed me of all desire for amusement," Cossigny added. "I care
+for nothing more to-day."
+
+They bowed to the ladies and the prince, and silently entered their
+carriages. Prince Emil ordered the countess' coachman to drive back
+with the maid, who sat hidden in one corner, and joined the duchess and
+her companions.
+
+The equipages rolled away in different directions--one back to the
+Gross house, the other to Munich, where the florists were toiling
+busily to adorn the Wildenau Palace for the reception of its fortunate
+owner, who was not coming.
+
+Ludwig Gross led the countess across the now empty stage. It thrilled
+her with a strange emotion to thread its floor, and in her reverent
+awe, she scarcely ventured to glance around her at the vast, dusky
+space. Suddenly she recoiled from an unexpected horror--the cross lay
+before her. Her agitation did not escape the keen perception of Ludwig
+Gross, and he doubtless understood it; such things are not new to the
+people of Ammergau. "I will see whether the house of Pilate is still
+open, perhaps you may like to step out on the balcony!" he said, and
+moved away to leave her alone.
+
+The countess understood the consideration displayed by the sympathizing
+man. Kneeling in the dark wings, she threw herself face downward on the
+cross, pressed her burning lips on the hard wood which had supported
+the noble body, on the marks left here also by the nails which had
+apparently pierced the hands of the crucified one, the red stains made
+by his painted wounds. Aye, it had become true, the miracle had
+happened. _The artificial blood also possessed redeeming power_.
+
+Rarely did any pilgrim to the Holy Land ever press a more fervent kiss
+upon the wood of the true cross, than was now bestowed on the false
+one.
+
+So, in the days of yore, Helen, the beautiful, haughty mother of the
+Emperor Constantine, may have flung herself down, after her long sea
+voyage, when she at last found the long sought cross to press it to her
+bosom in the unutterable joy of realization.
+
+Ludwig's steps approached, and the countess roused herself from her
+rapture.
+
+"Unfortunately the house is closed," said Ludwig, who had probably been
+perfectly aware of it. They went on to the dressing-rooms. "I'll see if
+Freyer is still here!" and the drawing-master knocked at the first
+door. The countess was so much startled that she was forced to lean
+against the wall to save herself from falling. Was it to come now--the
+fateful moment! Her knees threatened to give way, her heart throbbed
+almost to bursting--but there was no answer to the knock, thrice
+repeated. He was no longer there. Ludwig Gross opened the door, the
+room was empty. "Will you come in?" he asked. "Would it interest you to
+see the dressing-room?"
+
+She entered. There hang his garments, still damp with perspiration from
+the severe toil.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau stooped with clasped hands in the bare little
+chamber. Something white and glimmering rustled and floated beside
+her--it was the transfiguration robe. She touched it lightly with her
+hand in passing, and a thrill of bliss ran through every nerve.
+
+Ah, and there was the crown of thorns.
+
+She took it in her hand and tears streamed down upon it, as though it
+were some sacred relic. Again the dream-like vision stood before her as
+she had seen it for the first time on the mountain top with the thorny
+branches swaying around the brow like an omen. "No, my hands shall
+defend thee that no thorn shall henceforth tear thee, beloved brow!"
+she thought, while a strange smile irradiated her face. Then looking
+up, she met the eyes of Ludwig, fixed upon her with deep emotion as she
+gazed down at the crown of thorns.
+
+She replaced it and followed him to the door of the next room.
+Caiaphas! An almost childlike dread and timidity assailed her--the sort
+of feeling she had had when a young girl at the time of her first
+presentation at court--she was well-nigh glad that he was no longer
+there and she had time to calm herself ere she confronted the mighty
+priest.
+
+"It is too late, they have all gone!" said Ludwig, offering his
+companion his arm to lead her down the staircase.
+
+Numerous groups of people were standing in front of the theatre and in
+the street leading to the village.
+
+"What are they doing here?" asked the lady.
+
+"Oh, they are waiting for Freyer! It is always so. He has slipped
+around again by a side path to avoid seeing anyone, and the poor people
+must stand and wait in vain. I have often told him that he ought not to
+be so austere! It would please them so much if he would but give them
+one friendly word--but he cannot conquer this shyness. He cannot suffer
+himself to be revered as the Christ, after the Play is over. He ought
+not to permit the feeling which the people have for the Christ to be
+transferred to his person--that is his view of the matter."
+
+"It is a lofty and noble thought, but hard for us poor mortals, who so
+eagerly cling to what is visible. It is impossible not to transfer the
+impression produced by the character to its representative, especially
+with a personality like Freyer's!"
+
+Ludwig Gross nodded assent. "Yes, we have had this experience of old.
+Faith needs an earthly pledge, says our great poet, and Freyer's
+personation is such a pledge, a guarantee of whose blessed power
+everyone feels sure."
+
+The countess eagerly pressed Ludwig's hands.
+
+"I have seen people," Ludwig added, "who were happy, if they were only
+permitted to touch Freyer's garment, as though it could bring them
+healing like the actual robe of Christ! Would not Christ, also, if He
+beheld this pious delusion, exclaim: 'Woman, thy faith hath saved
+thee!'"
+
+A deep flush crimsoned the countess' face, and the tears which she had
+so long struggled to repress flowed in streams. She leaned heavily on
+Ludwig's arm, and he felt the violent throbbing of her heart. It
+touched him and awakened his compassion. He perceived that hers, too,
+was a suffering soul seeking salvation here, and if she did not find
+it, would perish. "It shall be yours, poor woman; for rich as you may
+be, you are still poor--and we will give you what we can!" he thought.
+
+The two companions pursued their way, without exchanging another word.
+The countess now greeted the old house like a lost home which she had
+once more regained.
+
+Andreas Gross met her at the door, took off her shawl, and carried it
+into the room for her.
+
+Josepha had already returned and said that the countess was ill.
+
+"I hope it is nothing serious?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"No, Herr Gross, I am well--but I cannot go; I must make the
+acquaintance of these people--I cannot tear myself away from this
+impression!"
+
+She sank into a chair, laid her head on the table and sobbed like a
+child. "Forgive me, Herr Gross, I cannot help it!" she said with
+difficulty, amid her tears.
+
+The old man laid his hand upon her shoulder with a gesture of paternal
+kindness. "Weep your fill, we are accustomed to it, do not heed us!" He
+drew her gently into the sitting-room.
+
+Ludwig had vanished.
+
+Josepha entered to ask whether she should unpack the luggage which was
+up in her room.
+
+"Yes," replied the countess, "and let the carriages return to Munich,
+until I need them again."
+
+"His Highness the Prince has left his valet here for your service,"
+Josepha reported.
+
+"What can he do? Let him go home, too! Let them all go--I want no one
+except you!" said the countess sternly, hiding her face again in her
+handkerchief. Josepha went out to give the order. Where could Ludwig
+Gross be?--He had become a necessity to her now, thus left alone with
+her overflowing heart! He had been right in everything.--He had told
+her that she would learn to weep here, he had first made her understand
+the spirit of Ammergau. Honor and gratitude were his due, he had
+promised nothing that had not been fulfilled. He was thoroughly genuine
+and reliable! But where had he gone, did not this man, usually so
+sympathetic, know that just now he might be of great help to her? Or
+did he look deeper _still_, and know that he was but a substitute
+for another, for whom her whole soul yearned? It was so lonely. A
+death-like stillness reigned in the house and in the street. All were
+resting after the heavy toil of the day.
+
+Something outside darkened the window. Ludwig Gross was passing on his
+way toward the door, bringing with him a tan, dark figure, towering far
+above the low window, a figure that moved shyly, swiftly along,
+followed by a throng of people, at a respectful distance. The countess
+felt paralyzed. Was _he_ coming? Was he coming in.
+
+She could not rise and look--she sat with clasped hands, trembling in
+humble expectation, as Danae waited the moment when the shower of gold
+should fall. Then--steps echoed in the workshop--the footsteps of
+two--! They were an eternity in passing down its length--but they were
+really approaching her room--they came nearer--some one knocked!
+She scarcely had breath to call "come in." She would not believe
+it--from the fear of disappointment. She still sat motionless at the
+table--Ludwig Gross opened the door to allow the other to precede
+him--and _Freyer_ entered. He stooped slightly, that he might not
+strike his head, but that was needless, for--what miracle was this? The
+door expanded before the countess' eyes, the ceiling rose higher and
+higher above him. A wide lofty space filled with dazzling light
+surrounded him. Colors glittered before her vision, figures floated to
+and fro; were they shadows or angels? She knew not, a mist veiled her
+eyes--for a moment she ceased to think. Then she felt as if she had
+awaked from a deep slumber, during which she had been walking in her
+sleep--for she suddenly found herself face to face with Freyer, he was
+holding her hands in his, while his eyes rested on hers--in speechless
+silence.
+
+[Illustration: _She suddenly found herself face to face with Freyer_. Page 102.]
+
+Then she regained her self-control and the first words she uttered were
+addressed to Ludwig: "You have brought _him_--!" she said, releasing
+Freyer's hands to thank the man who had so wonderfully guessed her
+yearning.
+
+Gift and gratitude were equal--and here both were measureless! She
+scarcely knew at this moment which she valued more, the man who brought
+this donation or the gift itself. But from this hour Ludwig Gross was
+her benefactor.
+
+"You have brought _him_"--she repeated, for she knew not what more to
+say--that one word contained _all_! Had she possessed the eloquence of
+the universe, it would not have been so much to Ludwig as that _one_
+word and the look which accompanied it. Then, like a child at
+Christmas, which, after having expressed its thanks, goes back happily
+to its presents, she turned again to Freyer.
+
+Yet, as the child stands timidly before the abundance of its gifts,
+and, in the first moments of surprise, does not venture to touch them,
+she now stood, shy and silent before him, her only language her eyes
+and the tears which streamed down her cheeks.
+
+Freyer saw her deep emotion and, bending kindly toward her, again took
+her hands in his. Every nerve was still quivering--she could feel
+it--from the terrible exertion he had undergone--and as the moisture
+drips from the trees after the rain, his eyes still swam in tears, and
+his face was damp with perspiration.
+
+"How shall I thank you for coming to me after this day of toil?" she
+began in a low tone.
+
+[Illustration: _She suddenly found herself face to face with Freyer_.]
+
+"Oh, Countess," he answered with untroubled truthfulness, "I did it for
+the sake of my friend Ludwig--he insisted upon it."
+
+"So it was only on his friend's account," thought the countess,
+standing with bowed head before him.
+
+He was now the king--and she, the queen of her brilliant sphere, was
+nothing save a poor, hoping, fearing woman!
+
+At this moment all the vanity of her worldly splendor fell from
+her--for the first time in her life she stood in the presence of a man
+where _she_ was the supplicant, he the benefactor. What a feeling! At
+once humiliating and blissful, confusing and enthralling! She had
+recognized by that one sentence the real state of the case--what
+to this man was the halo surrounding the Reichscountess von Wildenau
+with her coronet and her millions? Joseph Freyer knew but one
+aristocracy--that of the saints in whose sphere he was accustomed to
+move--and if he left it for the sake of an earthly woman, he would
+stoop to her, no matter how far, according to worldly ideals, she might
+stand above him!
+
+Yet poor and insignificant as she felt in his presence--while the
+lustre of her coronet and the glitter of her gold paled and vanished in
+the misty distance--_one_ thing remained on which she could rely, her
+womanly charm, and this must wield its influence were she a queen or
+the child of a wood-cutter! "Then, for the earthly crown you have torn
+from my head, proud man, you shall give me your crown of thorns, and I
+will _still_ be queen!" she thought, as the spirit of Mother Eve
+stirred within her and an intoxicating breeze blew from the Garden of
+Paradise. Not for the sake of a base emotion of vanity and
+covetousness, nay, she wished to be loved, in order to _bless_. It is
+the nature of a noble woman to seek to use her power not to receive,
+but to give, to give without stint or measure. The brain thinks
+quickly--but the heart is swifter still! Ere the mind has time to grasp
+the thought, the heart has seized it. The countess had experienced all
+this in the brief space during which Freyer's eyes rested on her.
+Suddenly he lowered his lashes and said in a whisper: "I think we have
+met before, countess."
+
+"On my arrival Friday evening. You were standing on the top of the
+mountain while I was driving at the foot. Was it not so?"
+
+"Yes," he murmured almost inaudibly, and there was something like an
+understanding, a sweet familiarity in the soft assent. She felt it, and
+her hand clasped his more firmly with a gentle pressure.
+
+He again raised his lashes, gazing at her with an earnest, questioning
+glance, and it seemed as if she felt a pulse throbbing in the part of
+the hand which bore the mark of the wound--the warning did not fail to
+produce its effect.
+
+"Christus, my Christus!" she whispered repentantly. It seemed as if she
+had committed a sin in suffering an earthly wish to touch the envoy of
+God. He was crucified, dead, and buried. He only walked on earth like a
+spirit permitted to return from time to time and dwell for a brief
+space among the living. Who could claim a spirit, clasp a shadow to the
+heart? Grief oppressed her, melancholy, akin to the grief we feel when
+we dream of the return of some beloved one who is dead, and throw
+ourselves sobbing on his breast, while we are aware that it is only a
+dream! But even if but a dream, should she not dream it with her whole
+soul? If she knew that he was given to her only a few moments, should
+she not crowd into them with all the sweeter, more sorrowful strength,
+the love of a whole life?
+
+After us the deluge, says love to the moment--and that which does not
+say it is not love.
+
+But in this _moment_, the countess felt, lay the germ of something
+imperishable, and when it was past there would begin for her--not
+annihilation, but _eternity_. To it she must answer for what she did
+with the moment!
+
+Ludwig Gross was standing by the window, he did not wish to listen what
+was communicated by the mute language of those eyes. He had perceived,
+with subtle instinct, the existence of some mysterious connection, in
+which no third person had any part. They were alone--virtually alone,
+yet neither spoke, only their tearful eyes expressed the suffering
+which he endured and _she_ shared in beholding.
+
+"Come, poor martyr!" cried her heart, and she released one of his hands
+to clasp the other more closely with both her own. She noticed a slight
+quiver. "Does your hand still ache--from the terrible nail which seemed
+to be driven into your flesh?"
+
+"Oh, no, that would cause no pain; the nail passes between the fingers
+and the large head extends toward the center of the palm. But to-day,
+by accident, Joseph of Arimathea in drawing out the nail took a piece
+of the flesh with it, so that I clenched my teeth with the pain!" he
+said, smiling, and showing her the wound. "Do you see? Now I am really
+stigmatized!"
+
+"Good Heavens, there is a large piece of the flesh torn out, and you
+bore it without wincing?"
+
+"Why, of course!" he said, simply.
+
+Ludwig gazed fixedly out of the window. The countess had gently drawn
+the wounded hand nearer and nearer; suddenly forgetting everything in
+an unutterable feeling, she stooped and ere Freyer could prevent it
+pressed a kiss upon the bloody stigma.
+
+Joseph Freyer shrank as though struck by a thunderbolt, drawing back
+his hand and closing it as if against some costly gift which he dared
+not accept. A deep flush crimsoned his brow, his broad chest heaved
+passionately and he was obliged to cling to a chair, to save himself
+from falling. Yet unconsciously his eyes flashed with a fire at once
+consuming and life-bestowing--a Prometheus spark!
+
+"You are weary, pardon me for not having asked you to sit down long
+ago!" said the countess, making an effort to calm herself, and
+motioning to Ludwig Gross, in order not to leave him standing alone.
+
+"Only a moment"--whispered Freyer, also struggling to maintain his
+composure, as he sank into a chair. Madeleine von Wildenau turned away,
+to give him time to regain his self-command. She saw his intense
+emotion, and might perhaps have been ashamed of her hasty act had she
+not known its meaning--for her feeling at that moment was too sacred
+for him to have misunderstood it. Nor had he failed to comprehend, but
+it had overpowered him.
+
+Ludwig, who dearly perceived the situation, interposed with his usual
+tact to relieve their embarrassment: "Freyer is particularly exhausted
+to-day; he told me, on our way here, that he had again been taken from
+the cross senseless."
+
+"Good Heavens, does that happen often?" asked the countess.
+
+"Unfortunately, yes," said Ludwig in a troubled tone.
+
+"It is terrible--your father told me that the long suspension on the
+cross was dangerous. Can nothing be done to relieve it?"
+
+"Something might be accomplished," replied Ludwig, "by substituting a
+flat cross for the rounded one. Formerly, when we had a smooth, angular
+one, it did not tax his strength so much! But some authority in
+archæology told us that the crosses of those days were made of
+semi-circular logs, and this curve, over which the back is now
+strained, stretches the limbs too much."
+
+"I should think so!" cried the countess in horror. "Why do you use such
+an instrument of torture?"
+
+"He himself insists upon it, for the sake of historical accuracy."
+
+"But suppose you should not recover, from one of these fainting fits?"
+asked the lady, reproachfully.
+
+Then Freyer, conquering his agitation, raised his head. "What more
+beautiful fate could be mine, Countess, than to die on the cross, like
+my redeemer? It is all that I desire."
+
+"All?" she repeated, and a keen emotion of jealousy assailed her,
+jealousy of the cross, to which he would fain devote his life! She met
+his dark eyes with a look, a sweet, yearning--fatal look--a poisoned
+arrow whose effect she well knew. She grudged him to the cross, the
+dead, wooden instrument of martyrdom, which did not feel, did not love,
+did not long for him as she did! And the true Christ? Ah, He was too
+noble to demand such a sacrifice--besides. He would receive too souls
+for one, for surely, in His image, she loved _Him_. He had sent her the
+hand marked with blood stains to show her the path to Him--He could not
+desire to withdraw it, ere the road was traversed.
+
+"You are a martyr in the true sense of the word," she said. Her eyes
+seemed to ask whether the shaft had struck. But Freyer had lowered his
+lids and sat gazing at the floor.
+
+"Oh, Countess," he said evasively, "to have one's limbs wrenched for
+half an hour does not make a martyr. That suffering brings honor and
+the consciousness of serving others. Many, like my friend Ludwig, and
+other natives of Ammergau, offer to our cause secret sacrifices of
+happiness which no audience beholds and applauds, and which win
+no renown save in their own eyes and God's. _They_ are martyrs,
+Countess!--I am merely a vain, spoiled, sinful man, who has enough to
+do to keep himself from being dazzled by the applause of the world and
+to become worthy of his task."
+
+"To _become_!" the countess repeated. "I think whoever speaks in that
+way, _is_ worthy already."
+
+Freyer raised his eyes with a look which seemed to Madeleine von
+Wildenau to lift her into a higher realm. "Who would venture to say
+that he was worthy of _this_ task? It requires a saint. All I can hope
+for is that God will use the imperfect tool to work His miracles, and
+that He will accept my _will_ for the deed,--otherwise I should be
+forced to give up the part _this very day_."
+
+The countess was deeply moved.
+
+"Oh, Freyer, wonderful, divinely gifted nature! To us you are the
+Redeemer, and yet you are so severe to yourself."
+
+"Do not talk so, Countess! I must not listen! I will not add to all my
+sins that of robbing my Master, in His garb, of what belongs to _Him_
+alone. You cannot suspect how it troubles me when people show me this
+reverence; I always long to cry out, 'Do not confound me with Him--I am
+nothing more than the wood--or the marble from which an image of the
+Christ is carved, and withal _bad_ wood, marble which is not free from
+stains.' And when they will not believe it, and continue to transfer to
+me the love which they ought to have for Christ--I feel that I am
+robbing my Master, and no one knows how I suffer." He started up. "That
+is why I mingle so little with others--and if I ever break this rule I
+repent it, for my peace of mind is destroyed."
+
+He took his hat. His whole nature seemed changed--this was the chaste
+severity with which he had driven the money changers from the temple,
+and Madeleine turned pale--chilled to the inmost heart by his
+inflexible bearing.
+
+"Are you going?" she murmured in a trembling voice.
+
+"It is time," he answered, gently, but with an unapproachable dignity
+which made the words with which she would fain have entreated him to
+stay longer, die upon her lips.
+
+"Your Highness win leave to morrow?"
+
+"The countess intends to remain some time," said Ludwig, pressing his
+friend's arm lightly, as a warning not to wound her feeling.
+
+"Ah," replied Freyer, thoughtfully, "then perhaps we shall meet again."
+
+"I have not yet answered what you have said to-day; will you permit me
+to do so to-morrow?" asked the countess, gently; an expression of quiet
+suffering hovered around her lips.
+
+"To-morrow I play the Christ again, Countess--but doubtless some
+opportunity will be found within the next few days."
+
+"As you please--farewell!"
+
+Freyer bowed respectfully, but as distantly as if he did not think it
+possible that the lady would offer him her hand. Ludwig, on the
+contrary, as if to make amends for his friend's omission, frankly
+extended his. She clasped it, saying in a low, hurried tone: "Stay!"
+
+"I will merely go with Freyer to the door, and then return, if you will
+allow me."
+
+"Yes," she said, dismissing Freyer with a haughty wave of the hand.
+Then, throwing herself into the chair by the table, she burst into
+bitter weeping. She had always been surrounded by men who sued for her
+favor as though it were a royal gift. And here--here she was disdained,
+and by whom? A man of the people--a plebeian! No, a keen pang pierced
+her heart as she tried to give him that name. If _he_ was a plebeian,
+so, too, was Christ. Christ, too, sprang from the people--the ideal of
+the human race was born in a _manger_! She could summon to confront Him
+only _one_ kind of pride, that of the _woman_, not of the high-born
+lady. Alas--she had not even _this_. How often she had flung her heart
+away without love. For the mess of pottage of gratified vanity or an
+interesting situation, as the prince had said yesterday, she had
+bartered the birthright of the holiest feeling. Of what did she dare to
+be proud? That, for the first time in her life, she really loved? Was
+she to avenge herself by arrogance upon the man who had awakened this
+divine emotion because he did not share it? No, that would be petty and
+ungrateful. Yet what could she do? He was so far above her in his
+unassuming simplicity, so utterly inviolable. She was captured by his
+nobility, her weapons were powerless against him. As she gazed around
+her for some support by which she might lift herself above him, every
+prop of her former artificial life snapped in her grasp before the
+grand, colossal verity of this apparition. She could do nothing save
+love and suffer, and accept whatever fate he bestowed.
+
+Some one knocked at the door; almost mechanically she gave the
+permission to enter.
+
+Ludwig Gross came in noiselessly and approached her. Without a word she
+held out her hand, as a patient extends it to the physician. He stood
+by her side and his eyes rested on the weeping woman with the sympathy
+and understanding born of experience in suffering. But his presence was
+infinitely soothing. This man would allow nothing to harm her! So far
+as his power extended, she was safe.
+
+She looked at him as if beseeching help--and he understood her.
+
+"Freyer was unusually excited to-day," he said, "I do not know what was
+passing in his mind. I never saw him in such a mood before! When we
+entered the garden, he embraced me as if something extraordinary had
+happened, and then rushed off as though the ground was burning under
+his feet--of course in the direction opposite to his home, for the
+whole street was full of people waiting to see him."
+
+The countess held her breath to listen.
+
+"Was he in this mood when you called for him?" she asked.
+
+"No, he was as usual, calm and weary."
+
+"What changed him so suddenly?"
+
+"I believe, Countess, that you have made an impression upon him which
+he desires to understand. You have thrown him out of the regular
+routine, and he no longer comprehends his own feelings."
+
+"But I--I said so little--I don't understand," cried the countess,
+blushing.
+
+"The important point does not always depend on what is said, but on
+what is _not_ said, Countess. To deep souls what is unuttered is often
+more significant than words."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau lowered her eyes and silently clasped Ludwig's
+hand.
+
+"Do you think that he--" she did not finish the sentence, Ludwig spared
+her.
+
+"From my knowledge of Freyer--either he will _never_ return, or--he
+will come _to-morrow_."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX.
+
+                           SIGNS AND WONDERS.
+
+
+The great number of strangers who were unable to get tickets the day
+before had rendered a second performance necessary. The countess did
+not attend it. To her the play had been no spectacle, but an
+experience--a repetition would have degraded it to a mere drama. She
+had spent the day in retirement, like a prisoner, that she might not
+fall into the hands of any acquaintances. Now the distant rumble of
+carriages announced the close of the performance. It was a delightful
+autumn evening. The Gross family came to the window on their return
+home, and wondered to find the countess still in her room. The sounds
+of stifled sobs echoed from the work room. The other lodgers in the
+house had come back from the theatre and, like every one, were paying
+their tribute of tears. An American had gone to-day for the second
+time. He sat weeping on the bench near the stove, and said that it had
+been even more touching than yesterday. Andreas Gross assented: "Yes,
+Joseph Freyer never played as he did to-day."
+
+The countess, sitting in her room, heard the words and was strangely
+moved. Why had he never played as he did _to-day_?
+
+Some one tapped gently on the door.
+
+A burning blush suffused the countess' face--had _he_--? He might have
+passed through the garden from the other side to avoid the spectators.
+"Come in!" she called.
+
+It was Josepha with a telegram in her hand. The messenger was waiting
+for an answer.
+
+The countess opened it and read the contents. It was from the prince.
+"Please inform me whether I shall countermand the dinner."
+
+"Very well. I will send the reply."
+
+Josepha withdrew.
+
+"If Ludwig were only here!" thought the countess. "He must be waiting
+to bring Freyer, as he did yesterday."
+
+The rapid pulsing of her heart almost stifled her. One quarter of an
+hour passed after another. At last Ludwig came--but alone.
+
+The countess was sitting at the open window and Ludwig paused beside
+it.
+
+"Well, how was the play to-day?"
+
+"Magnificent," he replied. "I never saw Freyer so superb. He was
+perfect, fairly superhuman! It is a pity that you were not there."
+
+"Did he inquire for me?"
+
+"Yes. I explained to him that you did not wish to see it a second
+time--and for what reason. He nodded and said: 'I am glad the lady
+feels so.'"
+
+"Then--we understand each other!" The countess drew a long breath. "Did
+you ask him to come here with you?"
+
+"No. I thought I ought not to do that--he must come now of his own free
+will, or you would be placed in a false position."
+
+"You are right--I thank you!" said the countess, turning pale and
+biting her lips. "Do you think that--he will come?"
+
+"Unfortunately, no--he went directly home."
+
+"Will you do me a favor?"
+
+"Certainly, Countess."
+
+"Despatch a telegram for me. I have arranged to give a dinner party at
+home and should like to send a message that I am coming."
+
+"You will not remain here longer?"
+
+"No!" she said in a tone sharp and cutting as a knife which is thrust
+into one's own heart. "Come in, please."
+
+Ludwig obeyed the command and she wrote with the bearing of a queen
+signing a death-warrant:
+
+
+"Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim, Munich.
+
+   "Will come at five to-morrow. Dinner can be given.
+
+                                                 "Madeleine."
+
+
+"Here, if you will be so kind," she said, handing the sheet to Ludwig.
+
+The latter gazed earnestly at her, as though he wanted to say: "If only
+you don't repent it." But he asked the question in the modest wording:
+"Shall I send it _at once_?"
+
+"Yes, if you please!" she answered, and her whole manner expressed a
+coldness which startled Ludwig.
+
+"Can genuine warmth of heart freeze so quickly?" he asked himself.
+Madeleine von Wildenau felt the mute reproach and disappointment in
+Ludwig's manner. She felt, too, that he was right, and called him back
+as he reached the door. "Give it to me," she said, taking the telegram,
+"I will consider the matter." Then meeting the eyes of the noble man,
+which now brightened again for her sake, she added earnestly, holding
+out her hand, "You understand me better than I do myself."
+
+"I thank you for those words--they make me very proud, Countess!" said
+Ludwig with a radiant glance, placing the telegram on the table. "I
+will go now that I may not disturb you while you are considering what
+course to pursue."
+
+He left the room. Twilight was gathering. The countess sat by the table
+holding the telegram clenched in her little hand.
+
+"The people of Ammergau unconsciously exercise a moral constraint which
+is irresistible. There is a power of truth in them which prevents even
+self-deception in their presence!" she murmured half defiantly, half
+admiringly. What was to be done now? To remain longer here and
+countermand the dinner meant a positive breach with society. But who
+was there _here_ to thank her for such a sacrifice? Who cared for the
+Countess Wildenau? She was one of the thousands who came and went,
+taking with them a lofty memory, without leaving any remembrance in the
+mind of any one. Why should she hold them accountable if she gave to
+this impression a significance which was neither intended nor
+suspected. We must not force upon men sacrifices which they do not
+desire!
+
+She rested her arm on the table and sat irresolute. Now--now in this
+mood, to return to the prosaic, superficial round, after imagining
+yesterday that she stood face to face with deity? _Could_ she do it?
+Was not the mute reproach in Ludwig's glance true? She thoughtfully
+rested her beautiful face on her hand.
+
+She had not noticed a knock at the door, a carriage was driving by
+whose rattle drowned every sound. For the same reason the person
+outside, supposing that he had not heard the "come in!" softy opened
+the door. At the noise the countess raised her head--Freyer stood
+before her.
+
+"You have come, you _did_ come!" she exclaimed, starting up and seizing
+his hand that the sweet, blissful dream might not vanish once more.
+
+"Excuse me if I disturb you," he said in a low, timid tone. "I--I
+should not have come--but I could not bear to stay at home, I was so
+excited to-day. When evening came, some impulse drove me here--I was--I
+had--"
+
+"You had a desire to talk to some one who could understand you, and
+this urged you to me, did it not?"
+
+"Yes, Countess! But I should not have ventured to come in, had not--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Ludwig met me and said that you were going away--"
+
+"Ah--and did you regret it?"
+
+"I wished at least to bid you farewell and thank you for all your
+kindness to my unhappy cousin Josepha!" he said evasively. "I neglected
+to do so yesterday, I was so embarrassed."
+
+"You are not sincere with me, Herr Freyer!" said the countess,
+motioning to him to sit down. "This expression of thanks does not come
+from your heart, for you do not care what I do for Josepha. That is
+merely the pretext for coming to me--because you do not wish to confess
+what really brought you. Am I not right?"
+
+"Countess!" said Freyer, completely disconcerted, as he tried to rise.
+
+She gently laid her hand on his, detaining him. "Stay! Your standard is
+so rigid in everything--what is your view of truth?"
+
+Freyer fixed his eyes on the floor.
+
+"Is it _true_, when you say that you came to thank me for Josepha? Were
+you not drawn hither by the feeling that, of all the thousands of souls
+who pass you in the course of the summer, perhaps there is not one who
+could understand you and your task as I do?"
+
+Freyer clasped his hands on his knees and silently bent his head.
+
+"Perhaps you have not thought of me as I have thought of you, all day
+long, since our eyes met on the mountain, as though some higher power
+had pointed us out to each other."
+
+Freyer remained silent, but as the full cup overflows at the slightest
+movement, tears again gushed from his eyes.
+
+"Why did you look at me so from head to foot, pouring forth in that
+gaze your whole soul with a world of grief and joy, as a blossoming
+tree showers its flowers on the passer-by? Surely not on account of a
+woman's face, though it may be passably fair, but because you felt that
+I perceived the Christ in you and that it was _He_ for whom I came.
+Your glance meant to tell me: 'It is I whom you are seeking!' and I
+believe you. And when at last the promise was fulfilled and the long
+sought redeemer stood before me, was it by chance that his prophetic
+eye discovered me among the thousands of faces when he said: 'But in
+many hearts day will soon dawn!' Did you not seek me, as we look for a
+stranger to whom we must fulfill a promise given on the journey?"
+
+Freyer now raised his dark eyes and fixed them full upon her, but made
+no reply.
+
+"And is it true that you came yesterday, only because Ludwig wished it,
+you who, spite of all entreaties, have kept ladies who had the world at
+their feet waiting on your stairs for hours? Did you not come because
+you suspected that I might be the woman with whom, since that meeting,
+you had had some incomprehensible spiritual bond?"
+
+Freyer covered his eyes with his hand, as if he was afraid more might
+be read in them.
+
+"Be truthful, Herr Freyer, it is unworthy of you and of me to play a
+conventional farce. I am compelled to act so many in my life that I
+would fain for once be frank, as mortal to mortal! Tell me simply, have
+I judged correctly--yes or no?"
+
+"Yes!" whispered Freyer, without looking up.
+
+She gently drew his hand down. "And to-day--to-day--did you come merely
+out of gratitude for your cousin?" she questioned with the archness of
+her increasing certainty of happiness.
+
+He caught the little hand with which she had clasped his, and raised it
+ardently to his lips; then, as if startled that he had allowed himself
+to be carried so far, he flung back his raven locks as if they had
+deluded his senses, and pushed his chair farther away in order not to
+be again led into temptation. She did not interfere--she knew that he
+was in her power--struggle as he might, the dart was fixed. Yet the
+obstacles she had to conquer were great and powerful. Coquetry would be
+futile, only the moral force of a _genuine_ feeling could cope with
+them, and of this she was conscious, with a happiness never felt
+before. Again she searched her own heart, and her rapid glance wandered
+from the thorn-scarred brow of the wonderful figure before her, to
+pierce the depths of her own soul. Her love for him was genuine, she
+was not toying with his heart; she wished, like Mary Magdalene, to
+sanctify herself in his love. But she was the Magdalene in the _first_
+stage. Had Christ been a _man_, and attainable like _this_ man, what
+transformations the Penitent's heart must have undergone, ere its fires
+wrought true purification.
+
+"Herr Freyer," the countess began in a low, eager tone, "you said
+yesterday that it troubled you when people showed you idolatrous
+reverence and you felt that you thereby robbed your Master. Can we give
+aught to any earthly being without giving it to _God_?"
+
+Freyer listened intently.
+
+"Is there any soul which does not belong to God, did not emanate from
+_Him_, is not a part of _His_ power? And does not that which flows from
+one part to another stream back in a perpetual circle to the _Creator_?
+We can _take_ nothing which does not come from God, _give_ nothing
+which does not return to Him. Do you know the principle of the
+preservation of power?"
+
+"No," said Freyer, confused by his ignorance of something he was asked.
+
+"Well, it can be explained in a very few words. Science has proved that
+nothing in the universe can be lost, that even a force which is
+apparently uselessly squandered is merely transformed into another.
+Thus in God nothing can be lost, even though it has no direct relation
+to Him--for he is the _spiritual_ universe. True, _every_ feeling does
+not produce a work of God, any more than every effort of nature brings
+forth some positive result. But as in the latter case the force
+expended is not lost, because it produces other, though secondary
+results, so in _God_ no sentiment of love and enthusiasm is lost, even
+though it may relate to Him only in a secondary degree."
+
+"Very true."
+
+"Then if that _is_ so,--how can any one rob this God, who surrounds us
+like the universe, from which we come, into which we pass again, and in
+which our forces are constantly transformed in a perpetual round of
+change."
+
+Freyer rested his head on his hand, absorbed in thought.
+
+"And if a feeling is so deeply rooted in religion, so directly
+associated with God as that which men offer to you. His representative,
+why should you have these scruples?"
+
+"I have never heard any one talk in this way! Pardon my
+faint-heartedness, and ignorance--I am a poor, simple-hearted man--you
+will be indulgent, will you not?"
+
+"Freyer!" cried the countess, deeply moved, and spite of the distance
+to which he had pushed his chair, held out her hand.
+
+"You see, I had no opportunity to attend a higher school, I was so
+poor. I lost my parents when a lad of twelve and received only the most
+necessary instruction. All my knowledge I obtained afterwards by
+reading, and it is of course defective and insufficient. On our
+mountains, beside our rushing streams, among the hazel bushes whose
+nuts were often my only food, I grew up, watching the horses sent to
+pasture with their colts. Up by St. Gregory's chapel, where the Leine
+falls over the cliffs, I left the animals grazing in the wide meadows,
+flung myself down in a field of gentian and, lying on my back, gazed
+upward into the blue sky and thought it must surely open, the
+transparent atmosphere _must_ at last be pierced--as the bird imagines,
+when it dashes its head against a pane of glass--so I learned to think
+of God! And when my brain and heart grew giddy, as if I were destined
+for something better, when a longing overwhelmed me which my simple
+meditations could not quell, I caught one of my young horses by the
+mane, swung myself on its bare back, and swept over the broad plain,
+feeling myself a king."
+
+He extended his arms, and now his face was suddenly
+transformed--laughing, bright, joyous as the Swedes imagine their
+Neck, the kind, friendly water sprite who still retains some of the
+mythical blood of the Northern god of Spring, Freyer's namesake. "Ah,
+Countess--that was poetry! Who could restore _those_ days; that
+childish ignorance, that happy hope, that freedom of innocence!"
+
+Again, like the pictures in a kaleidoscope, his expression changed and
+a gloomy melancholy spread its veil over his brow. "Alas!--that is all
+over! My light-footed colts have become weary, clumsy animals, dragging
+loaded wains, and I--I drag no less wearily the burden of life."
+
+"How can you speak so at the moment when, yourself a miracle, you are
+revealing to men the miracles of God? Is it not ungrateful!"
+
+"Oh, no, Countess, I am grateful! But I do not so separate myself from
+my part that I could be happy while portraying the sufferings of my
+Redeemer! Do you imagine that I have merely learned the words by heart?
+With His form, I have also taken His cross upon me! Since that time all
+my youth has fled and a touch of pain pervades my whole life."
+
+"Then you are His true follower--then you are doing what Simon of
+Cyrene did! And do _you_ believe that you ought not to accept even the
+smallest portion of the gratitude which men owe to the Crucified One?
+Must you share only His sufferings, not His joys, the joys bestowed by
+the love and faith of moved and converted souls? Surely if you are so
+narrow-minded, you understand neither yourself nor the love of God, Who
+has chosen and favored you from among millions to renew to the world
+the forgotten message of salvation."
+
+"Oh God, oh God!--help me to keep my humility--this is too much."
+
+Freyer started up and pressed his hand upon his brow as if to ward off
+an invisible crown which was descending upon it.
+
+The countess also rose and approached him. "Freyer, the suffering you
+endure for Christ's sake, I share with you! It is the mystery in which
+our souls found each other. Pain is eternal, Freyer, and that to which
+it gives birth is imperishable! What do we feel when we stand before a
+painted or sculptured image of the Crucified One? Pity, the most
+agonizing pity! I have never been willing to believe it--but since
+yesterday I have known that it is a solace to the believing soul to
+bestow a tender embrace upon the lifeless image and to touch the
+artificial wounds with ardent lips. What must it be when that image
+loves, feels, and suffers! When it speaks to us in tones that thrill
+the inmost heart? When we see it quiver and bleed under the lashes of
+the executioner--when the sweat of agony trickles from the brow and
+_real_ tears flow from the eyes? I ask, _what_ must this be to us?
+Imagine yourself for once the person who _sees this_--and then judge
+whether it is not overpowering? If faith in the _stone_ Christ works
+miracles--why should not belief in the _living_ one do far more? The
+pious delusion is so much the greater, and _faith_ brings blessing."
+
+She clasped her hands upon his breast
+
+"Come, image of mercy, bend down to me. Let me clasp your beloved head
+and press upon your tortured brow the kiss of reconciliation for all
+penitent humanity!" Then, taking his face between her hands, she
+lightly pressed a fervent kiss upon the brow gently inclined toward
+her. "Now go and lament that you have robbed your Master of this
+kiss. He will ask, with a smile: 'Do you know for whom that kiss was
+meant--_thee_ or _me_?' And you will be spared an answer, for when you
+raise your eyes to Him, you will find it imprinted on _His_ brow."
+
+She paused, overpowered by the sacredness of the moment. There are
+times when our own words influence us like some unknown force, because
+they express something which has been so deeply concealed in our hearts
+that we ourselves were ignorant of its existence. This was the case now
+with the countess. Freyer stood silently with clasped hands, as if in
+church.
+
+It seemed as though some third person was addressing them--an invisible
+person whom they must hold their very breath to understand.
+
+It had grown late. The waning moon floated high above the low window
+and brightened the little room with its cheering rays. The countess
+nodded. "It is fulfilled!" Then she laid her hands in Freyer's: "For
+the first time since my childhood I place my soul in the keeping of a
+human being! For the first time since my childhood, I strip off all the
+arrogance of reason, for a higher perception is hovering above me,
+drawing nearer and nearer with blissful certainty! Is it love, is it
+faith? Whichever it may be--God dwells in _both_. And--if philosophy
+says: 'I _think_, therefore I _am_,' I say: 'I _love_, therefore I
+_believe_!'"
+
+She humbly bowed her head. "And therefore I beseech you. Bless me, you
+who are so divinely endowed, with the blessing which is shed upon and
+emanates from you!"
+
+Freyer raised his eyes to Heaven as if to call down the benediction she
+implored, and there was such power in the fervid gaze that Madeleine
+von Wildenau experienced a thrill almost of fear, as if in the presence
+of some supernatural being. Then he made the sign of the cross over
+her: "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
+Ghost."
+
+A tremor of foreboding ran through her limbs as if the finger of God
+had marked her for some mysterious destination and, with this rune, she
+had been enrolled in the pallid host of those consecrated by sorrow as
+followers of the deity.
+
+With sweet submission she clasped the hand which had just imprinted the
+mournful sign on brow and breast: "In the name of God, if only _you_
+are near me!" Her head drooped on her bosom. Some one knocked at the
+door, the countess' brain reeled so much that she was forced to cling
+to Freyer for support.
+
+Josepha timidly asked if she wanted a light.
+
+"Light! Was it _dark_?"
+
+"Very well," she answered absently.
+
+Josepha brought the lamp and enquired when the countess desired to have
+supper? Freyer took his hat to go.
+
+"I shall eat nothing more to-night!" said the countess in a curt,
+impatient tone, and Josepha timidly withdrew.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau covered her face with both hands like a person
+who had been roused from a beautiful dream to bare reality.
+
+"Alas--that there must be other people in the world, besides
+ourselves!" She sighed heavily, as if to take breath after the terrible
+fall. Freyer, hat in hand, approached her, calm and self-controlled.
+Joseph Freyer, addressing Countess Wildenau, had no remembrance of what
+the penitent soul had just confided to the image of the Redeemer.
+
+"Allow me to take my leave, your Highness," he said in a gentle, but
+distant tone.
+
+The countess understood the delicate modesty of this conduct. "Did your
+blue gentians teach this tact? It would seem that lonely pastures,
+whispering hazel copses, and dashing mountain streams are better
+educators of the heart, for those who understand their mysterious
+language, than many of our schools."
+
+Freyer was silent a moment, then with eyes bent on the floor, he said:
+"May I ask when your Highness intends to leave to-morrow?"
+
+"_Must_ I go, Freyer?"
+
+"Your Highness--"
+
+"Here is a telegram which announces my arrival at home to-morrow. Tell
+me, Freyer, shall I send it?"
+
+"How can _I_ decide--" stammered Freyer in confusion.
+
+"I wish to know whether you--_you_, Freyer, would like to keep me
+here?"
+
+"But Good Heavens, your Highness--is it seemly for me to express such a
+wish? Of course it will be a great pleasure to have you remain--but how
+could I seek to influence you in any way?"
+
+"Mere phrases!" said the countess, disappointed and offended. "Then, if
+it is a matter of indifference to you whether I go or stay, I will send
+the telegram." She went to the table to add something.
+
+Suddenly he stood close beside her, with a beseeching, tearful
+glance--and laid his hand upon the paper.
+
+"No--do not send it."
+
+"Not send it?" asked Madeleine in blissful expectation. "Not send
+it--then what am I to do?"
+
+His lips moved several times, as if he could not utter the word--but at
+last it escaped from his closed heart, and with an indescribable smile
+he murmured: "Stay!"
+
+Ah! A low cry of exultation escaped the countess, and the telegram lay
+torn upon the table. Then with a trembling hand she wrote the second,
+which she requested him to send at once. It contained only the words:
+"Am ill--cannot come!"
+
+He was still standing at her side, and she gave it to him to read.
+
+"Is it true?" he asked, after glancing at it, looking at her with
+timid, sportive reproach. "Are you ill?"
+
+"Yes!" she said caressingly, laying her hand, as if she felt a pang,
+upon her heart. "I _am_!"
+
+He clasped both in his own and asked softly in a tone which sent a
+thrill of happiness through every vein: "How shall we _cure_ this
+illness?"
+
+She felt his warm breath on her waving hair--and dared not stir.
+
+Then, with sudden resolution he shook off the thrall: "Good-night,
+Countess!"
+
+The next moment he was hurrying past the window.
+
+Ludwig, wondering at his Mend's hasty departure, entered.
+
+"What has happened, Countess?"
+
+"Signs and wonders have happened," she said, extending her arms as if
+transfigured.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+
+                         IN THE EARLY MORNING.
+
+
+"Rise Mary! Night is darkening and the wintry storms are raging--but be
+comforted, in the early morning, in the Spring garden, you will see me
+again."
+
+The countess woke from a short slumber as if some one had uttered the
+words aloud. She glanced around the dusky room, it was still early,
+scarcely a glimmer of light pierced through the chinks of the shutters.
+She tried to sleep again, but in vain. The words constantly rang in her
+ears: "In the early morning you will see me again." Now the chinks in
+the shutters grew brighter, and one golden arrow after another darted
+through. The countess threw aside the coverlet and started up. Why
+should she torment herself with trying to court sleep? Outside a dewy
+garden offered its temptations.
+
+True, it was an autumn, not a spring garden. Yet for her it was
+Spring--it had dawned in her heart--the first springtime of her life.
+
+Up and away! Should she wake Josepha, who slept above her? Nay, no
+sound, no word must disturb this sacred morning stillness.
+
+She dressed and, half an hour later, glided lightly, unseen, into the
+garden.
+
+The clock in the church steeple was striking six. A fresh autumn breeze
+swept like a band of jubilant sprites through the tops of the ancient
+trees, then rushing downward, tossed her silken hair as though it would
+fain bear away the filmy strands to some envious wood-nymph to weave
+nets from it for the poor mortals who might lose themselves in her
+domain.
+
+On the ground at her feet, too, the grasses and shrubs swayed and
+rustled as if little gnomes were holding high revel there. A strange
+mood pervaded all nature.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau looked upward; there were huge cloud-shapes in
+the sky, but the sun was shining brightly in a broad expanse of blue.
+The bells were ringing for early mass. The countess clasped her hands.
+Everything was silent and lonely, no eye beheld, no ear heard her, save
+the golden orb above. The birds carolling their matin songs, the
+flowers whose cups were filled with morning dew, the buzzing, humming
+bees--all were celebrating the great matins of awakening nature--and
+she, whose heart was full of the morning dew of the first genuine
+feeling of her life, was she alone not to join in the chorus of
+gratitude of refreshed creation?
+
+There is a language whose key we do not possess. It is the Sanscrit of
+Nature and of the human soul when it communes with the deity. The
+countess sank silently down on the dewy grass. She did not pray in set
+words--there was an interchange of thought, her heart spoke to God, and
+reason knew not what it confided to Him.
+
+In the early morning in the spring garden "thou wilt see me again!"
+There again spoke the voice which had roused her so early! The countess
+raised her head--but still remained kneeling as if spell-bound. Before
+her stood the Promised One.
+
+She could say nothing save the word uttered by Mary Magdalene:
+"Master!"
+
+A loving soul can never be surprised by the object of its love because
+it expects him always and everywhere, yet it appears a miracle when its
+expectation becomes fulfilment.
+
+"Have I interrupted your prater? I did not see you because you were
+kneeling"--he said, gently.
+
+"You interrupt my prayer--you who first taught me to pray?" she asked,
+holding out her hand that he might help her rise. "Tell me, how did you
+come here?"
+
+"I could not sleep--some yearning urged me to your presence--to your
+garden."
+
+He gently raised her, while she gazed into his eyes as if enraptured.
+"Master!" she repeated. "Oh, my friend, I was like Mary Magdalene, my
+Lord had been taken away and I knew not where they had laid Him. Now I
+know. He was buried in my own heart and the world had rolled the stone
+before it, but yesterday--yesterday He rose and the stone was cast
+aside. So some impulse urged me into the garden early this morning to
+seek Him and lo--He stands before me as He promised."
+
+"Do not speak so!--I am well aware that the words are not meant for me,
+but if you associate Christ so closely with my personality, I fear that
+you will confound Him with me, and that His image will be dimmed, if
+anything should ever shadow mine! I beseech you, Countess, by all that
+is sacred--learn to separate Him from me--or you have not grasped the
+true nature of Christ, and my work will be evil!" He stood before her
+with hand uplifted in prophecy, the outlines of his powerful form were
+sharply relieved against the dewy, shining morning air. Purity,
+chastity, the loftiest, most inspired earnestness were expressed in his
+whole bearing, all the dignity of the soul and of primeval, divinely
+created human nature.
+
+Must not she have that feeling of adoration which always seizes upon us
+whenever, no matter where it may be, the deity is revealed in His
+creations? No, she did not understand what he meant, she only
+understood that there was something divine in him, and that the
+perception of this nearness to God filled her with a happiness never
+known before. Joseph Freyer was the guarantee of the existence of a God
+in whom she had lost faith--why should she imagine Him in any other
+form than the one which she had found Him again? "Thou shalt make
+thyself no graven image!" Must this Puritanically misunderstood literal
+statement destroy man's dearest possession, the _symbol of the
+reality_? Then the works of Raphael, Titian, and Rubens must be
+effaced, and the unions of miracles of faith, wrought in the souls of
+the human race by the representations of the divine nature.
+
+"Oh blessed image-worship, now I understand your meaning!" she joyously
+exclaimed. "Whoever reviles you has never felt the ardent desire of the
+weak human heart, the captive of the senses, for contact with the
+unapproachable, the sight of the face of the ever concealed yet ever
+felt divinity. Here, here stands the most perfect image Heaven and
+earth ever created, and must I not kneel before it, clasp it with all
+the tendrils of my aspiring soul? No! No one ought, no one can prevent
+me."
+
+Half defiantly, half imploringly, the words poured from her inmost soul
+like molten lava. "Let all misunderstand me--save _you_, Freyer! You,
+by whom God wrought the miracle, ought not to be narrow-minded! _You_
+ought not to destroy it for me, you least of all!" Then she pleaded,
+appealed to him: "Let saints, let glorified spirits grasp _only_ the
+essence and dispense with the earthly pledge--I cannot! I am a type of
+the millions who live snared by the weaknesses, the ideas, the
+pleasures of the world of sense; do you suddenly require of me the
+abstract purity and spiritualization of religious thought, to which
+only the highest innate or required perfection leads? Be forbearing to
+me--God has various ways of drawing the rebellious to Him! To the soul
+which is capable of material ideas only. He gives revelations by the
+senses until, through pain and sorrow, it has worked its way upward to
+intellectual ones. And until I can behold the _real_ God in His shadowy
+sphere, I shall cling lovingly and devoutly to His _image_."
+
+She sank on her knees before him in passionate entreaty. "Do not
+destroy it for me, rather aid the pious delusion which is to save me!
+Bear patiently with the woe of a soul seeking its salvation, and leave
+the rest to God!" She leaned her brow against the hand which hung by
+his side and was silent from excess of emotion.
+
+The tall, stalwart man stood trembling as Abraham may have stood before
+the thicket when God stayed his uplifted arm and cried in tender love:
+"I will not accept thy sacrifice."
+
+He had a presentiment that the victim would be snatched from him also,
+if he was too stern, and all the floods of his heart burst forth, all
+the flood gates of love and pity opened. Bending down, he held her head
+in a close, warm clasp between both hands, and touched her forehead
+with quivering lips.
+
+A low cry of unutterable bliss, and she sank upon his breast; the next
+instant she lifted her warm rosy lips to his.
+
+But he drew back a step in agonizing conflict; "No, Countess, for
+Heavens's sake no, it must not be."
+
+"Why not?" she asked, her face blanching.
+
+"Let me remain worthy of the miracle God has wrought upon you through
+me. If I am to represent Christ to you, I must at least feel and think
+as He did, so far as my human weakness will permit, or everything will
+be a deception."
+
+The countess covered her face with her hands. "Ah, no one can utter
+such words who knows aught of love and longing!" she moaned between her
+set teeth in bitter scorn.
+
+"Do you think so?" exclaimed Freyer, and the tone in which he spoke
+pierced her heart like a cry of pain. Drawing her hands from her face,
+he forced her to meet his glowing eyes: "Look at me and see whether the
+tears which now course down my cheeks express no love and longing. Look
+at yourself, your sweet, pouting lips, your sparkling eyes, all your
+radiant charms, and ask yourself whether a man into whose arms such a
+woman falls _can_ remain unmoved? When you have answered these
+questions, say to yourself: 'How that man must love his Saviour, if he
+buys with such sacrifices the right to wear His crown of thorns!'
+Perhaps you will then better understand what I said just now of the
+spirit and nature of Christ."
+
+Countess Madeleine made no reply, but wringing her hands, bent her eyes
+on the ground.
+
+"Have I wounded you, Countess?"
+
+"Yes, unto death. But it is best so. I understand you. If I am to love
+you as Christ, you must _be_ Christ. And the more severe you are, the
+higher you raise me! Alas--the pain is keen!" She pressed her hand upon
+her heart as though to close a wound, a pathetic expression of
+resignation rested on her pallid face.
+
+"Oh, Countess, do not make my task too hard for me. I am but mortal!
+Oh, how can I see you suffer? _I_ can renounce everything, but to hurt
+_you_ in doing so--is beyond my power."
+
+"Do not say _you_ in this solemn hour! Call me by my name, I would fain
+hear it once from your lips!"
+
+"And what _is_ your name?"
+
+"Maria Magdalena."
+
+"No. You call yourself so under the impression of the Passion Play."
+
+"I was christened Maria Magdalena von Prankenberg."
+
+"Maria Magdalena," he repeated, his eyes resting upon her with deep
+emotion as she stood before him, she whose bearing was usually so
+haughty, now humble, silent, submissive, like the Penitent before the
+Master. Suddenly, overpowered by his feelings, he extended his arms:
+"_My_ Magdalena."
+
+"My Master, my salvation," she sobbed, throwing herself upon his
+breast. He clasped her with a divine gesture of love in his embrace.
+
+"Oh, God she has flown hither like a frightened dove and nestled in my
+breast. Poor dove, I will conceal and protect you from every rude
+breeze, from every base touch of the world! Build your nest in my
+heart--here you shall rest in the peace of God!" He pressed her head
+close to his heart.
+
+"How you tremble, dove! May I call you so?"
+
+"Oh, forever!"
+
+"Are you wearied by your long flight? Poor dove! Have you fluttered
+hither to me across the wild surges of the world, to bring the olive
+branch, the token of reconciliation, which makes my peace with things
+temporal and eternal? And must I now thrust you from me, saying as
+Christ said to Magdalene! 'Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to
+my Father?' Shall I drive you forth again into this chaos, that the
+faithful wings which bore you on the right way may droop exhausted till
+you perish in the billows of the world?" He clasped her still more
+closely: "Oh, God! This cannot be Thy will! But I think I understand
+Thee, Omnipotent One--Thou hast _entrusted_ this soul to me, and I will
+guard it for Thee _loyally_!"
+
+It was an hour of sacred happiness. Her head rested on his breast. Not
+a leaf stirred on the boughs. The dense shadow of the beeches
+surrounded them, separating them from the world as if the universe
+contained naught save this one spot of earth, and the dream of this
+moment.
+
+"Tell me _one_ thing," she whispered, "only one, and I will suffer,
+atone, and purchase this hour of Heaven by any sacrifice: Do you love
+me?"
+
+He looked at her, his whole soul in his eyes. "Must I _tell_ you so?"
+he asked mournfully. "What can it serve you to put your hand into the
+wound in my heart, and see how deep it is? You cannot cure it. Have you
+not felt, from the first moment, that some irresistible spell drew me
+to you, forcing me, the recluse, to come to you again and yet again?
+What was it that drove me from my couch early this morning and sent me
+hither to your closed house and deserted garden? What was it save
+love?"
+
+"Ever since four o'clock I have wandered restlessly about with my eyes
+fixed on the shutters of your room, till the impetuous longing of my
+soul roused you and drew you from your warm bed into the chill morning
+air. Come, you are shivering, let me warm you, nestle in my arms and
+feel the glow of my heart."
+
+He sat down on the bench under the arbor, and--he knew not how it
+happened--she clung to him like a child and he could not repulse her,
+he _could_ not! She stroked his long black locks with her little soft
+hand and rested her head against his cheek--she was the very embodiment
+of innocence, simplicity, girlish artlessness. And in low murmurs she
+poured out her whole heart to him as a child confides in its father.
+Without reserve, she told him all the bitter sorrow of her whole
+life--a life which had never known either love or happiness! Having
+lost her mother when a mere child, she had been educated by a
+cold-hearted governess and a pessimistic tutor. Her father, wholly
+absorbed by the whirl of fashionable life, had cared nothing for her,
+and when scarcely out of the school-room had compelled her to marry a
+rich old man with whom for eight years existence was one long torment.
+Then, in mortal fear lest her listener would not forgive her, yet
+faithful to the truth, she confessed also how her eager soul, yearning
+for love, had striven to find some compensation, rebelling against a
+law which recognized the utmost immorality as moral, till _sin_ itself
+seemed virtue compared to the wrong of such a bond. But as the
+forbidden draught did not quench her thirst, a presentiment came to her
+that she was longing for that spring of which Christ said: "But
+whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never
+thirst!" This had brought her here, and here had been opened the
+purifying, redeeming fount of life and love.
+
+"Now you know all! My soul lies open before you! By the self denial
+with which I risked my highest blessing, _yourself_, and revealed my
+whole past life to you, you can judge whether I have been ennobled by
+your love." Slipping from his embrace, she sank on her knees before
+him: "Now judge the Penitent--I will accept from your hand whatever
+fate you may impose. But one thing I beseech you to do, whatever you
+may ask of me: remember _Christ_."
+
+Freyer raised his large dark eyes. "I do remember Him." Bending toward
+her with infinite gentleness, he lifted her in his strong arms: "Come,
+Magdalena! I cannot condemn you," he said, and the Penitent again
+rested in the embrace of compassion.
+
+"There are drops of cold perspiration on your brow," said Madeleine
+after a long silence. "Are you suffering?"
+
+"I suffer gladly. Do not heed it!" he said with effort.
+
+Then a glance of loving inquiry searched his inmost soul. "Do you
+regret the kiss which you just denied me?" she asked, scarcely above
+her breath, but the whispered question made him wince as though a probe
+had entered some hidden wound. She felt it, and some irresistible
+impulse urged her to again raise her pouting lips. He saw their rosy
+curves close to his own, and gently covered them with his hand. "Be
+true! Let us be loyal to each other. Do not make my lot harder than it
+is already! You do not know what you are unchaining." Starting up, he
+clasped his hands upon his breast, eagerly drinking in long draughts of
+the invigorating morning air. The gloomy fire which had just glowed in
+his eyes changed again to a pure, calm light. "This is so _beautiful_,
+do not disturb it," he said gently, kissing her on the forehead. "My
+child, my dove! Our love shall remain pure and sacred--shall it not?"
+
+"Yes!" she murmured in reverent submission, for now he was once more
+the image of Christ, and she bent silently to kiss his hand. He did not
+resist, for he felt that it was a comfort to her. Then he disappeared,
+calm, lofty, like one who has stripped off the fetters of this world.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau was left alone. Pressing her forehead against
+the trunk of the tree, a rude but firm support, she had sunk back upon
+the bench, closing her eyes. Her heart was almost bursting with its
+seething tide of emotion. Tears coursed down her cheeks. God had given
+her so much, that she almost swooned under this wealth of happiness.
+Only a touch of pain could balance it, or it would be too great for
+mortal strength to bear. This pain was an unsatisfied yearning, a vague
+feeling that her destiny could only be fulfilled through this love, and
+that she was still so far from possessing it. God has ordained that the
+human heart can bear only a certain measure of happiness and, when this
+limit is passed, joy becomes pain because we are not to experience here
+on earth bliss which belongs to a higher stage of development. That is
+why the greatest joy brings tears, that is why, amid the utmost love,
+we believe that we have never loved enough, that is why, amid the
+excess of enjoyment, we are consumed with the desire for a rapture of
+which this is but a foretaste, that is why every pleasure teaches us to
+yearn for a new and greater one, so that we may _never_ be satisfied,
+but continually suffer.
+
+There is but one power which, with strong hand, maintains the balance,
+teaches us to be sparing of joy, helps us endure pain, dams all the
+streams of desire and sends them back to toil and bear fruit within the
+soul: asceticism! It cuts with firm touch the luxuriant shoots from the
+tree of life, that its strength may concentrate within the marrow of
+the trunk and urge the growth _upward_. Asceticism! The bugbear of all
+the grown up children of this world. Wherever it appears human hearts
+are in a tumult as if death were at hand. Like flying ants bearing away
+their eggs to a place of safety, the disturbed consciences of
+worldlings anxiously strive to hide their secret desires and pleasures
+from the dreaded foe! But whoever dares to meet its eyes sees that it
+is not the bugbear which the apostles of reason and nature would fain
+represent it, no fleshless, bloodless shadow which strives to destroy
+the natural bond between the Creator and creation, but a being with a
+glowing heart, five wounds, and a brow bedewed with drops of sweat. Its
+office is stern and gloomy, its labor severe and thankless, for it has
+to struggle violently with rebellious souls and, save for the aid of
+the army of priests who have consecrated themselves to its service, it
+would succumb in the ceaseless struggle with materialism which is ever
+developing into higher consciousness! Yet whoever has once given
+himself to her service finds her a lofty, earnest, yet gracious
+goddess! She is the support of the feeble, the comforter of the
+unhappy and the solitary, the angel of the self-sacrificing. Whoever
+feels her hand upon a wounded, quivering heart, knows that she is the
+_benefactress_, not the taskmistress of humanity.
+
+Nor does she always appear as the gloomy mourner beside the corpse of
+murdered joys. Sometimes roses wreath the thorn-scarred brow, and she
+becomes the priestess of love. When the world and its self-created
+duties rudely sunders two hearts which God created for each other and
+leaves them to waste away in mortal anguish, _she_ is the compassionate
+one. With sanctifying power she raises the struggling souls above the
+dividing barrier of temporal things, teaches them to trample the earth
+under their feet and unites them with an eternal bond in the purer
+sphere of _intellectual_ love. Thus she unites what _morality_ severs.
+_Morality_ alone is harsh, not asceticism. Morality pitilessly
+prescribes her laws, unheeding the weakness of poor human hearts,
+asceticism helps them to submit to them. Morality _demands_ obedience,
+asceticism _teaches_ it. Morality punishes, asceticism corrects. The
+former judges by appearances, the latter by the reality. Morality has
+only the reward of the _world_, asceticism of _Heaven_! Morality made
+Mary Magdalene an outcast, asceticism led her to the Lord and obtained
+His mercy for her.
+
+And as the beautiful Magdalene of the present day sat with closed eyes,
+letting her thoughts be swept along upon the wildly foaming waves of
+her hot blood, she fancied that the bugbear once so dreaded because she
+had known it only under the guise of the fulfilment of base, loathsome
+duty was approaching. But this time the form appeared in its pure
+beauty, bent tenderly over her, a pallid shape of light, and gazed at
+her with the eyes of a friend! Low, mysterious words, in boding
+mournful tones, were murmured in her ears. As she listened, her tears
+flowed more gently, and with childlike humility she clasped the sublime
+vision and hid her face on its breast. Then she felt upon her brow a
+chill kiss, like a breath from the icy regions of eternal peace, and
+the apparition vanished. But as the last words of something heard in a
+dream often echo in the ears of the person awaking, the countess as she
+raised her closed lids, remembered nothing save the three words: "On
+the cross!" ...
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+
+                          MARY AND MAGDALENE.
+
+
+"On the cross"--was it a consolation or a menace? Who could decipher
+this rune? It was like all the sayings of oracles. History would
+explain its meaning, and when this was done, it would be too late, for
+it would be fulfilled! The countess still sat motionless in the old
+arbor. Her destiny had commenced on the cross, that was certain.
+Hitherto she had been a blind blank, driven like thousands by the wheel
+of chance. She had first entered into communication with the systematic
+order of divine thought in the hour when she saw Joseph Freyer on the
+cross. Will her fate _end_ as it _began_, upon the cross? An icy chill
+ran through her veins. She loved the cross, since it bore the man whom
+she loved, but what farther influence was it to have upon her life! And
+what had pallid asceticism to do with her? What was the source of all
+these oppressive, melancholy forebodings, which could only be justified
+if a conflict with grave duties or constraining circumstances was
+impending. Why should they not love each other, both were free!
+But--she not only desired to love him, she wished to be _his_, to claim
+him _hers_. Every loving woman longs for the fulfilment of her destiny
+in the man she loves. How was she to obtain this fulfilment? What is
+born in morality, cannot exist in immorality. He knew this, felt it,
+and it was the cause of his sternness. This was the source of her
+grief, the visit of the mysterious comforter, and the warning of the
+cross. But must the brightest happiness, the beautiful bud of love
+wither on the cross, because it grew there? Was there no other sacred
+soil where it might thrive and develop to the most perfect flower? Was
+there no wedding altar, no sacrament of marriage? She drew back as if
+she suddenly stood on the verge of a yawning abyss. Her brain reeled! A
+throng of jeering spectres seemed grinning at her, watching with
+malicious delight the leap the Countess Wildenau was about to take,
+down to a peasant! She involuntarily glanced around as if some one
+might have been listening to the _thought_. But all was still and
+silent; her secret, thank Heaven, was still her own.
+
+"Eternal Providence, what fate hast thou in store for me?" her
+questioning gaze asked the blue sky. What was the meaning of this
+extraordinary conflict? She loved Freyer as the God whom he
+represented, yet he could be hers only as a man; she must either resign
+him or the divine illusion. She felt that the instant which made him
+hers as a man would break the spell, and she would no longer love him!
+The God was too far above her to be drawn down to her level, the man
+was too low to be raised to it. Was ever mortal woman thus placed
+between two alternatives and told: "Choose!" The golden shower fell
+into Danae's lap, the swan flew to Leda, the bull bore Europa away, and
+Jupiter did not ask: "In what form do you wish me to appear?" But to
+the higher consciousness of the Christian woman the whole
+responsibility of free choice is given. And what is the reward of this
+torturing dilemma? If she chooses the God, she must resign the man, if
+she chooses the man she must sacrifice the God. Which can she renounce,
+which relinquish? She could not decide, and wrung her hands in agony.
+Why must this terrible discord be hers? Had she ventured too boldly
+into the sphere of divine life that, as if in mockery, she was given
+the choice between the immortal and the mortal in order, in the
+struggle between the two, to recognize the full extent of her weakness?
+
+It seemed so! As if utterly wearied by the sore conflict, she hid her
+face in her hands and called to her aid the wan comforter who had just
+approached so tenderly. But in vain, the revelations were silent, the
+deity would not aid her!
+
+"You ought to go up the mountain to-day, Countess," called a resonant
+voice. This time no pale phantom, no grimacing spectre stood before
+her, but her friend Ludwig, who gazed into her eyes with questioning
+sympathy. She clasped his hand.
+
+"Whenever you approach me, my friend, I can never help receiving you
+with a 'Thank Heaven!' You are one of those whose very _presence_ is
+beneficial to the sufferer, as the physician's entrance often suffices
+to soothe the patient without medicines."
+
+Ludwig sat down on the bench beside the countess. "My sisters and
+Josepha are greatly troubled because you have not yet ordered
+breakfast, and no one ventured to ask. So _I_ undertook the dangerous
+commission, and your Highness can see yonder at the door how admiringly
+my sisters' eyes are following me."
+
+The countess laughed. "Dear me, am I so dreaded a tyrant?"
+
+"No doubt you are a little inclined to be one," replied Ludwig,
+quizzically; "now and then a sharp point juts from a hidden coronet. I
+felt one myself yesterday?"
+
+"When--how?"
+
+"May I remind you of it?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"When you poured all your wrath upon poor Freyer, and resolved to leave
+Ammergau at once. Then I was puzzled for a moment."
+
+"Really?" said the countess with charming embarrassment. "Then I was
+not mistaken--I perceived it, and therefore delayed sending the
+telegram. People ought not to take such passing ebullitions so
+seriously."
+
+"Yes, Countess, but that 'passing ebullition,' might have made poor
+Freyer miserable for a long time. Pray, have more patience and
+tolerance in future. Natures so powerful and superior as yours fail to
+exert a destructive influence upon a circle of simple folk like
+ourselves, only when they show a corresponding degree of generosity,
+which suffices to excuse all our awkwardnesses. Otherwise you will some
+day thrust us down from the height to which you have raised us, and
+that would be far worse than if we had _never_ been withdrawn from our
+modest sphere."
+
+"You are right!" said the countess, thoughtfully.
+
+"My fear is that we are capable only of _rousing_ your interest, not
+_fixing_ it. We are on too unequal a footing, we feel and understand
+your spell, but are too simple and inexperienced not to be dazzled and
+confused by its ever varying phantasmagoria. Therefore, Countess, you
+are as great a source of peril as of happiness."
+
+"Hm! I understand. But suppose that for the sake of you people of
+Ammergau I desired to return to plainness--and simplicity."
+
+"You cannot, Countess, you are too young."
+
+"What do you mean? That would be the very reason I should be able to do
+so."
+
+"No, for you have passed the age when people easily accommodate
+themselves to new circumstances. Too many of the shoots of luxury have
+gained a generous growth; they will assert their claims and cannot be
+forced back into the seeds whence they came. Not until they have lived
+out their time in the world and died can they form the soil for a new
+and, if you desire it, more primitive and simple development!--Any
+premature attempt of this kind will last only a few moments and even
+these would be a delusion. But what to you would be passing moments of
+disappointment, to those who shared them would be--lifelong destiny.
+Our clumsy natures cannot make these graceful oscillations from one
+feeling to another, we stake all on one and lose it, if we are
+deceived."
+
+The countess looked earnestly at him.
+
+"You are a stern monitor, Ludwig Gross!" she said, thoughtfully. "Do
+you fear that I might play a game with one of you?"
+
+"An unconscious one, Countess--as the waves toy with a drifting boat."
+
+"Well, that would at least be no cruel one!" replied the lady, smiling.
+
+"_Any_ sport, Countess, would be cruel, which tore one of these calm
+souls from its quiet haven here and set it adrift rudderless on the
+high sea of passion." He rose. "Pardon me--I am taking too much
+liberty."
+
+"Not more than my friendship gave you a right to say. You brought your
+friend to me; you are right to warn me if you imagine I should
+heedlessly throw the priceless gift away! But, Ludwig Gross"--she took
+his hand--"do you know that I prize it so highly that I should not
+consider _myself_ too great a recompense? Do you know that you have
+just found me in a sore struggle over this problem?"
+
+Ludwig Gross drew back a step as if he could not grasp the full meaning
+of the words. So momentous did they seem that he turned pale. "Is it
+possible?" he stammered.
+
+A tremulous gesture of the hand warned him to say no more. "I don't
+know--whether it is possible! But that I could even _think_ of it, will
+enable you to imagine what value your gift possesses for me. Not a
+word, I beseech you. Give me time--and trust me. So many marvels have
+been wrought in me during the past few days, that I give myself up to
+the impulse of the moment and allow myself to be led by an ever-ruling
+Providence--I shall be dealt with kindly."
+
+Ludwig, deeply moved, kissed his companion's hand. "Countess, the
+impulse which moves you at this moment must unconsciously thrill every
+heart in Ammergau--as the sleeping child feels, even in its dreams,
+when a good fairy approaches its cradle. And it is indeed so; for, in
+you conscious culture approaches unconscious nature--it is a sublime
+moment, when the highest culture, like the fairy beside the cradle,
+listens to the breathing of humanity, where completion approaches the
+source of being, and drinks from it fresh vigor."
+
+"Yes," cried the countess, enthusiastically: "That is it. You
+understand me perfectly. All civilization must gain new strength from
+the fountain of nature or its sources of life would become dry--for
+they perpetually derive their nourishment from that inexhaustible
+maternal bosom. Where this is not accomplished in individual lives, the
+primeval element, thus disowned, avenges itself in great social
+revolutions, catastrophes which form epochs in the history of the
+world. It is only a pity that in such phases of violent renewal the
+labor of whole epochs of civilization is lost. Therefore souls in
+harmony with their age must try to reconcile peacefully what, taken
+collectively, assumes the proportions of contrasts destructive to the
+universe."
+
+"And where could we find this reconciliation, save in love?" cried
+Ludwig, enthusiastically.
+
+"You express it exactly: that is the perception toward which minds are
+more and more impelled, and whose outlines in art and science appear
+more and more distinctly. That is the secret of the influence of
+Parsifal, which extends far beyond the domain of art and, in another
+province, the success of the Passion Play! To one it revealed itself
+under one guise, to another under another. To me it was here that the
+very source of love appeared. And as you, who revealed it to me, are
+pervaded by the great lesson--I will test it first upon you. Brother!
+Friend! I will aid you in every strait and calamity, and you shall see
+that I exercise love, not only in words, but that the power working
+within me will accomplish deeds also." She clasped her hands
+imploringly: "And if I love one of you _more_ than the others, do not
+blame me. The nearer to the focus of light, the stronger the heat! He,
+that one, is surely the focus of the great light which, emanating from
+you, illumines the whole world. I am so near him--could I remain cold?"
+
+"Ah, Countess--now I will cast aside all fears for my friend. In
+Heaven's name, take him. Even if he consumes under your thrall--pain,
+too, is godlike, and to suffer for _you_ is a grand, a lofty destiny, a
+thousand-fold fairer and better than the dull repose of an every day
+happiness."
+
+"Good heavens, when have I ever heard such language!" exclaimed the
+countess, gazing admiringly at the modest little man, whose cheeks were
+glowing with the flush of the loftiest feeling. He stood before her in
+his plain working clothes, his clear-cut profile uplifted, his eyes
+raised with a searching gaze as if pursuing the vanishing traces of a
+lofty, unattainable goal.
+
+She rose: "There is not a day, not an hour here, which does not bring
+me something grand. Woe befall me if I do not show myself worthy of the
+obligation your friendship imposes, I should be more guilty than those
+to whom the summons of the ideal has never come; who have never stood
+face to face with men like you."
+
+Ludwig quietly held out his hand and clasped hers closely in her own.
+The piercing glance of his artist-eye seemed to read the inmost depths
+of her soul.
+
+After a long pause Madeleine von Wildenau interrupted the silence:
+"There stands your sister in great concern over my bodily welfare! Well
+then, let us remember that we are human--unfortunately! Will you
+breakfast with me?"
+
+"I thank you, I have already breakfasted," said Ludwig, modestly,
+motioning to Sephi to be ready.
+
+"Then at least bear me company." Taking his arm, she went with him to
+the arbor covered with a wild grape-vine where the table was spread.
+She sat down to the simple meal, while her companion served her with so
+much tact and grace that she could not help thinking involuntarily;
+"And these are peasants? What ought we aristocrats to be?" Then, as if
+in mockery of this reflection, a man in his shirt-sleeves with his
+jacket flung over his arm and a scythe in his hand passed down the
+street by the fence. "Freyer!" exclaimed the countess, her face aflame:
+"The Messiah with a scythe?"
+
+Freyer stopped. "You called me, Countess?"
+
+"Where are you going with that implement, Herr Freyer?" she asked,
+coldly, in evident embarrassment.
+
+"To mow my field!" he answered quietly. "I have just time, and I want
+to try to harvest a little hay. Almost everything goes to ruin during
+the Passion!"
+
+"But why do you cut it yourself?"
+
+"Because I have no servant, Countess!" said Freyer, smiling, raised his
+hat with the dignified gesture characteristic of him, and moved on as
+firmly and proudly as though the business he was pursuing was worthy of
+a king. And so it was, when _he_ pursued it. A second blush crimsoned
+Madeleine von Wildenau's fair forehead. But this time it was because
+she had been ashamed of him for a moment. "Poor Freyer! His little
+patrimony was a patch of ground, and should it be accounted a
+degradation that he must receive the scanty gift of nature directly
+from her hand, or rather win it blade by blade in the sweat of his
+brow?" So she reasoned.
+
+Then he glanced back at her and she felt that the look, outshining the
+sun, had illuminated her whole nature. The fiery greeting of a radiant
+soul! She waved her white hand to him, and he again raised his hat.
+
+"Where is Freyer's field?"
+
+"Not far from us, just outside the village. Would you like to go
+there?"
+
+"No, it would trouble me. I should not like to see him toiling for his
+daily bread. Men such as he ought not to find it necessary, and it must
+end in some way. God sent me here to equalize the injustice of fate."
+
+"You cannot accomplish this with Freyer, Countess, he would have been a
+rich man long ago, if he had been willing to accept anything. What do
+you imagine he has had offered by ladies who, from sacred and selfish
+motives, under the influence of his personation of the Christ, were
+ready to make any sacrifice? If ever poverty was an honor to a man, it
+is to Freyer, for he might have been in very different circumstances
+and instead is content with the little property received from his
+father, a bit of woodland, a field, and a miserable little hut. To keep
+the nobility and freedom of his soul, he toils like a servant and cares
+for house, field, and wood with his own hands."
+
+"Just see him now, Countess," he added, "You have never beheld any man
+look more aristocratic while at work than he, though he only wields a
+scythe."
+
+"You are a loyal friend, Ludwig Gross," she answered. "And an eloquent
+advocate! Come, take me to him."
+
+She hurried into the house, returning with a broad-brimmed hat on her
+head, which made her face look as blooming and youthful as a girl's.
+Long undressed kid gloves covered her arms under the half flowing
+sleeves of her gown, and she carried over her shoulder a scarlet
+sunshade which surrounded her whole figure with a roseate glow. There
+was a warmth, a tempting charm in her appearance like the velvety bloom
+of a ripe peach. Ludwig Gross gazed at her in wonder.
+
+"You are--_fatally_ beautiful!" he involuntarily exclaimed, shaking his
+head mournfully, as we do when we see some inevitable disaster
+approaching a friend. "No one ought to be so beautiful," he added,
+disapprovingly.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau laughed merrily. "Oh! you comical friend, who
+offers with so sour a visage the most flattering compliments possible.
+Our young society men might take lessons from you! Pardon me for
+laughing," she said apologetically, as Ludwig's face darkened. "But it
+came so unexpectedly, I was not prepared for such a compliment here,"
+and in spite of herself, she laughed again, the compliment was too
+irresistible.
+
+Her companion was deeply offended. He saw in this outbreak of mirth a
+levity which outraged his holiest feelings. These were "the graceful
+oscillations from one mood to another," as he had termed it that day,
+which he had so dreaded for his friend, and which now perplexed his own
+judgment!
+
+A moment was sufficient to reveal this to the countess, in the next she
+had regained her self-control and with it the power of adapting herself
+to the earnestness of her friend's mood.
+
+He was walking silently at her side with a heavy heart. There had been
+something in that laugh which he could not fathom, readily as he
+grasped any touch of humor. To the earnest woman he had seen that
+morning, he would have confided his friend in the belief that he was
+fulfilling a lofty destiny; to the laughing, coquettish woman of the
+world, he grudged him; Joseph Freyer was far too good for such a fate.
+
+They had walked on, each absorbed in thought, leaving the village
+behind, into the open country. Few people were at work, for during the
+Passion there is rarely time to till the fields.
+
+"There he is!" Ludwig pointed to a man swinging his scythe with a
+powerful arm. The countess had dreaded the sight, yet now stood
+watching full of admiration, for these movements were as graceful as
+his gestures. The natural symmetry which was one of his characteristic
+qualities rendered him a picturesque figure even here, while toiling in
+the fields. His arms described rhythmically returning circles so
+smoothly, the poise of the elastic body, bending slightly forward, was
+so noble, and he performed the labor so easily that it seemed like a
+graceful gymnastic exercise for the training of the marvellous limbs.
+The countess gazed at him a long time, unseen.
+
+A woman's figure, bearing a jug, approached from the opposite side of
+the meadow and offered Freyer a drink. "I have brought some milk. You
+must be thirsty, it is growing warm," the countess heard her say. She
+was a gracious looking woman, clad in simple country garb, evidently
+somewhat older than Freyer, but with a noble, virginal bearing and
+features of classic regularity. Every movement was dignified, and her
+expression was calm and full of kindly earnestness.
+
+"I ought to know her," said the countess in a strangely sharp tone.
+
+"Certainly. She is the Mother of God in the Passion Play, Anastasia
+Gross, the burgomaster's sister."
+
+"Yes, the Mary!" said the countess, and again she remembered how the
+two, mother and son, had remained clasped in each other's arms far
+longer than seemed to her necessary. What unknown pang was this which
+now pierced her heart? "I suppose they are betrothed?" she asked, with
+quickened breath.
+
+"Who can tell? We think she loves him, but no one knows Freyer's
+feelings!" said Ludwig.
+
+"I don't understand, since you are such intimate friends, why you
+should not know!"
+
+"I believe, Countess, if we people of Ammergau have any good quality,
+it is discretion. We do not ask even the most intimate friend anything
+which he does not confide to us."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau lowered her eyes in confusion. After a short
+struggle she said with deadly sternness and bitterness: "You were right
+this morning--the man must be left _in his sphere_. Come, let us go
+back!" A glance from Ludwig's eyes pierced her to the heart. She turned
+back toward the village. But Freyer had already seen her and overtook
+her with the speed of thought.
+
+"Why, Countess, you here? And"--his eyes, fierce with pain, rested
+enquiringly on hers as he perceived their cold expression, "and you
+were going to leave me without a word of greeting? Were you ashamed to
+speak to the poor peasant who was mowing his grass? Or did my dress
+shock you?" He was so perfectly artless that he did not even interpret
+her indignation correctly, but attributed it to an entirely different
+cause. This did not escape the keen intuition of a woman so thoroughly
+versed in affairs of the heart. But when a drop of the venom of
+jealousy has entered the blood, it requires some time ere it is
+absorbed, even though the cause of the mischief has long been removed.
+This is an old experience, as well as the fact that, this process once
+over, repentance is all the sweeter, love the more passionate. But the
+poor simple-hearted peasant, in his artlessness, could not perceive all
+this. He was merely ashamed of standing before the countess in his
+shirt sleeves and hurriedly endeavored, with trembling fingers, to
+fasten his collar which he had opened while at work, baring his throat
+and chest. It seemed as if the hot blood could be heard pulsing against
+the walls of his arched chest, like the low murmur of the sea. The
+labor, the increasing heat of the sun, and the excitement of the
+countess' presence had quickened the usually calm flow of his blood
+till it fairly seethed in his veins, glowing in roseate life through
+the ascetic pallor of the skin, while the swelling veins stood forth in
+a thousand beautiful waving lines like springs welling from white
+stone. Both stood steeped in the fervid warmth, one absorbing, the
+other reflecting it.
+
+But with the cruelty of love, which seeks to measure the strength of
+responsive passion by the very pain it has the power to inflict, the
+beautiful woman curbed the fire kindled in her own pulses and said
+carelessly: "We have interrupted your tête-à-tête, we will make amends
+by retiring."
+
+"Countess!" he exclaimed with a look which seemed to say: "Is it
+possible that you can be so unjust! My _Mother_, Mary, was with me, she
+brought her son something to refresh him at his work, why should you
+interrupt us?"
+
+The simple words, which to her had so subtle a double meaning,
+explained everything and Madeleine von Wildenau felt, with deep
+embarrassment, that he understood her and that she must appear very
+petty in his eyes.
+
+Ludwig Gross drew out his watch. "Excuse me, it is nine o'clock; I must
+go to my drawing-school." He bowed and left them, without shaking hands
+with the countess as usual. She felt it as a rebuke, and a voice in her
+heart said: "You must become a far better woman ere you are worthy of
+this man."
+
+"Would not you like to know Mary? May I introduce her to you?" asked
+Freyer, when they were alone.
+
+"Oh, it is not necessary."
+
+"Why, how can you love the son and not care for the mother?"
+
+"She is _not_ your mother," replied the countess.
+
+"And _I_ am not the Christ. Why does the illusion affect me, and not
+Mary?"
+
+"Because it was perfect in you, but not in her."
+
+"Then there is still more reason to know her, that her personality may
+complete what her personation lacked."
+
+The countess cast a gloomy look at the tall maiden, who meanwhile had
+taken the scythe and was doing Freyer's work.
+
+"She seems to be very devoted to you," she said suspiciously.
+
+"Yes, thank Heaven, we are loyal friends."
+
+"I suppose you call each other thou."
+
+"Yes, all the Ammergau people do that, when they have been
+schoolmates."
+
+"That is a strange custom. Is it practised by those in both high and
+low stations?"
+
+"There are neither high nor low stations among us. We all stand on the
+same footing, Countess. The fact that one is richer, another poorer,
+that one can do more for education and external appearances than his
+neighbor makes no difference with us and, if it did, it would be an
+honor for me to be permitted to address Anastasia with the familiar
+thou, for she and the whole Gross family are far above me. Even in your
+sense of the word, Countess, the burgomaster is an aristocrat, no child
+of nature like myself, but a man familiar with social usages and
+thoroughly well educated."
+
+"Well, then," cried the countess, "why don't you marry the lady, if she
+possesses such superior advantages?"
+
+"Marry?" Freyer started back as if instead of Madeleine's beautiful
+face he had suddenly beheld some hideous vision, "I have never thought
+of it!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"The Christ wed Mary? The son the mother? No, though we are not what we
+represent, _that_ would be impossible. I have become so accustomed to
+regard her as my mother that it would seem to me a profanation."
+
+"But next winter, when the Play is over, it will be different."
+
+"And _you_ say this to me, Countess; _you_, after this morning?" cried
+Freyer, with a trembling voice. "Are you in earnest?"
+
+"Certainly. I cannot expect you, for my sake, to neglect older claims
+upon your heart!"
+
+"Countess, if I had older claims, would I have spoken to you as I did
+to-day, would the events have occurred which happened to-day? Can you
+believe such things of me? You are silent? Well, Countess, that may be
+the custom in your circle, but not in mine."
+
+"Forgive me, Freyer!" stammered the lady, turning pale.
+
+"Freyer shaded his eyes with his hand as if the sun dazzled him, in
+order to conceal his rising tears.
+
+"For what are you looking?" asked the countess, who thought he was
+trying to see more distinctly.
+
+He turned his face, eloquent with pain, full toward her. "I was looking
+to see where my dove had flown, I can no longer find her. Or was it all
+a dream?"
+
+"Freyer!" cried the countess, utterly overwhelmed, slipping her hand
+through his arm and resting her head without regard for possible
+spectators on his heaving breast. "Joseph, your dove has not flown
+away, she is here, take her to your heart again and keep her forever,
+forever, if you wish."
+
+"Take care, Countess," said Freyer, warningly, "there are people moving
+in all directions."
+
+She raised her head. "Will it cause you any harm?" she asked, abashed.
+
+"Not me, but you. I have no one to question me and could only be proud
+of your tokens of favor, but consider what would be said in your own
+circle, if it were rumored that you had rested your head on a peasant's
+breast."
+
+"You are no peasant, you are an artist."
+
+"In your eyes, but not in those of the world. Even though we do
+passably well in wood-carving and in the Passion Play, so long as we
+are so poor that we are compelled to till our fields ourselves, and
+bring the wood for our carvings from the forest with our own hands, we
+shall be ranked as peasants, and no one will believe that we are
+anything else. You will be blamed for having associated with such
+uncultured people."
+
+"Oh, I will answer for that before the whole world."
+
+"That would avail little, my beloved one, Heaven forbid that I should
+ever so far forget myself as to boast of your love before others, or
+permit you to do anything which they would misjudge. God alone
+understands what we are to each other, and therefore it must remain
+hidden in His bosom where no profane eye can desecrate it."
+
+The countess clung closer to him in silent admiration. She remembered
+so many annoyances caused by the indiscretions due to the vanity of men
+whom she had favored, that this modest delicacy seemed so chivalrous
+and lofty that she would fain have fallen at his feet.
+
+"Dove, have I found you again?" he said, gazing into her eyes. "My
+sweet, naughty dove! You will never more wound and wrong me so. I feel
+that you might break my heart" And pressing her arm lightly to his
+side, he raised her hand to his burning lips.
+
+A glow of happiness filled Madeleine von Wildenau's whole being as she
+heard the stifled, passionate murmur of love. And as, with every
+sunbeam, the centifolia blooms more fully, revealing a new beauty with
+each opening petal, so too did the soul of the woman thus illumined by
+the divine ray of true love.
+
+"Come," she said suddenly, "take me to the kind creature who so
+tenderly ministers to you, perhaps suffers for you. I now feel drawn
+toward her and will love her for your sake as your mother, Mary."
+
+"Ah, my child, that is worthy of you! I knew that you were generous and
+noble! Come, my Magdalene, I will lead you to Mary."
+
+They walked rapidly to the field where Anastasia was busily working.
+The latter, seeing the stranger approach, let down the skirt she had
+lifted and adjusted her dress a little, but she received the countess
+without the least embarrassment and cordially extended her hand. _Her_
+bearing also had a touch of condescension, which the great lady
+especially noticed. Anastasia gazed so calmly and earnestly at her that
+she lowered her eyes as if unable to bear the look of this serene soul.
+The smoothly brushed brown hair, the soft indistinctly marked brows,
+the purity of the features, and the virginal dignity throned on the
+noble forehead harmonized with the ideal of the Queen of Heaven which
+the countess had failed to grasp in the Passion Play. She was
+beautiful, faultless from head to foot, yet there was nothing in her
+appearance which could arouse the least feeling of jealousy. There was
+such spirituality in her whole person--something--the countess could
+not describe it in any other way--so expressive of the sober sense of
+age, that the beautiful woman was ashamed of her suspicion. She now
+understood what Freyer meant when he spoke of the maternal relation
+existing between Anastasia and himself. She was the true Madonna, to
+whom all eyes would be lifted devoutly, reverently, yet whom no man
+would desire to press to his heart. She was probably not much older
+than the countess, two or three years at most, but compared with her
+the great lady, so thoroughly versed in the ways of the world, was but
+an immature, impetuous child. The countess felt this with the secret
+satisfaction which it affords every woman to perceive that she is
+younger than another, and it helped her to endure the superiority which
+Anastasia's lofty calmness maintained over her. Nay, she even accepted
+the inferior place with a coquettish artlessness which made her appear
+all the more youthful. Yet at the very moment she adopted the childish
+manner, she secretly felt its reality. She was standing in the presence
+of the Mother of God. Womanly nature had never possessed any charm for
+her, she had never comprehended it in any form. She had never admired
+any of Raphael's Madonnas, not even the Sistine. A woman interested her
+only as the object of a man's love for which she might envy her, the
+contrary character, the ascetic beauty of an Immaculate was wholly
+outside of her sphere. Now, for the first time in her life, she was
+interested in a personality of this type, because she suddenly realized
+that the Virgin was also the Mother of the Saviour. And as her love for
+the Christ was first awakened by her love for Joseph Freyer, her
+reverence for Mary was first felt when she thought of her as his
+mother! Madeleine von Wildenau, so poor in the treasures of the heart,
+the woman who had never been a mother, suddenly felt--even while
+in the act of playing with practised coquetry the part of childlike
+ignorance--under the influence of the man she loved, the _reality_ in
+the farce and her heart opened to the sacred, mysterious bond between
+the mother and the child. Thus, hour by hour, she grew out of the
+captivity of the world and the senses, gently supported and elevated by
+the might of that love which reconciles earth and heaven.
+
+She held out one hand to Anastasia, the other to Freyer. "I, too, would
+fain know the dear mother of our Christ!" she said, with that sweet,
+submissive grace which the moment had taught her. Freyer's eyes rested
+approvingly upon her. She felt as if wings were growing on her
+shoulders, she felt that she was beautiful, good, and beloved; earth
+could give no more.
+
+Anastasia watched the agitated woman with the kindly, searching gaze of
+a Sister of Charity. Indeed, her whole appearance recalled that of one
+of these ministering spirits, resigned without sentimentality; gentle,
+yet energetic; modest, yet impressive.
+
+"I felt a great--" the countess was about to say "admiration," but this
+was not true, she admired her now for the first time! She stopped
+abruptly in the midst of her sentence, she could utter no stereotyped
+compliments at this moment. With quiet dignity, like a princess giving
+audience, Anastasia came to her assistance, by skilfully filling up the
+pause: "So this is your first visit to Ammergau?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then you have doubtless been very much impressed?"
+
+"Oh, who could remain cold, while witnessing such a spectacle?"
+
+"Yes, is not our Christ perfect?" said Anastasia, smiling proudly. "He
+costs people many tears. But even _I_ cannot help weeping, and I have
+played it with him thirty times." She passed her hand across his brow
+with a tender, maternal caress, as if she wished to console him for all
+his sufferings. "Does it not seem as if we saw the Redeemer Himself?"
+
+The countess watched her with increasing sympathy. "You have a
+beautiful soul! Your friend was right, people should know you to
+receive the full impression of Mary."
+
+"Yes, I play it too badly," replied Anastasia, whose native modesty
+prevented her recognition of the flattery conveyed in the countess'
+words.
+
+"No--badly is not the word. But the delicate shadings of the feminine
+nature are lost in the vast space," the other explained.
+
+"It may be so," replied Anastasia, simply. "But that is of no
+importance; no matter how we others might play--_he_ would sustain the
+whole."
+
+"And your brother, Anastasia, and all the rest--do you forget them?"
+said Freyer, rebukingly.
+
+"Yes, dear Anastasia." The countess took Freyer's hand. "I have given
+my soul into the keeping of this Christ--but your brother's performance
+is also a masterpiece! It seems to me that you are unjust to him. And
+also to Pilate, whom I admired, the apostles and high-priests."
+
+"Perhaps so. I don't know how the others act--" said Mary with an
+honesty that was fairly sublime. "I see only him, and when he is not on
+the stage I care nothing for the rest of the performance. It is because
+I am his _mother_: to a mother the son is beyond everything else," she
+added, calmly.
+
+The countess looked at her in astonishment. Was it possible that a
+woman could love in this way? Yet there was no doubt of it. Had even a
+shadow of longing to be united to the man she loved rested on the soul
+of this girl, she could not have had thus crystalline transparency and
+absolute freedom from embarrassment.
+
+These Madonnas are happy beings! she thought, yet she did not envy this
+calm peace.
+
+Drawing off her long glove with much difficulty, she took a ring from
+her finger. "Please accept this from me as a token of the secret bond
+which unites us in love for--your son! We will be good friends."
+
+"With all my heart!" said Anastasia in delight, holding out her
+sunburnt finger to receive the gift. "What will my brother say when
+I come home with such a present?" She gratefully kissed the donor's
+hand. "You are too kind, Countess--I don't know how I deserve it."
+She stooped and lifted her jug. "I must go home now to help my
+sister-in-law. You will visit us, won't you? My brother will be so
+pleased."
+
+"Very gladly--if you will allow me," replied the lady, smiling.
+
+"I beg you to do so!" said Anastasia with ready tact. Then with noble
+dignity, she moved away across the fields, waving her hand from the
+distance to the couple she had left behind, as if to say: "Be happy!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+
+                            BRIDAL TORCHES.
+
+
+"Magdalene--Wife--Angel--what shall I call you?" cried Freyer,
+extending his arms. "Oh, if only we were not in the open fields, that I
+might press you to my heart and thank you for being so kind--so
+_generous_ and so kind."
+
+"Does your heart at last yearn for me? Then let us come into the
+forest, where no one is watching us save holy nature. Take me up one of
+the mountains. Will you? Can you? Will not your hay spoil?"
+
+"_Let_ it spoil, what does that matter? But first you must allow me to
+go home to put on garments more suitable for your society."
+
+"No, that will be too late! Remain as you are--you are handsome in any
+clothes," she whispered, blushing faintly, like a girl, while she
+lowered her eyes from the kingly figure to the ground. A happy smile
+flitted over her face. Stooping, she picked up the jacket which he had
+removed while doing his work.
+
+"And you--are you equipped for mountain climbing?"
+
+"Oh, we will not go far. Not farther than we can go and return in time
+for dinner."
+
+"Come, then. If matters come to the worst, I will take my dove on my
+shoulder and carry her when she can walk no farther."
+
+"Oh, happy freedom!" cried the countess, joyously! "To wander through
+the woods, like two children in a fairy tale, enchanted by some wicked
+fairy and unable to appear again until after a thousand years! Oh,
+poetry of childhood--for the first time you smile upon me in all your
+radiance. Come, let us hasten--it is so beautiful that I can hardly
+believe it. I shall not, until we are there."
+
+She flew rather than walked by his side. "My dove--suppose that we were
+enchanted and forced to remain in the forest together a thousand
+years?"
+
+"Let us try it!" she whispered, fixing her eyes on his till he
+murmured, panting for breath: "I believe--the spell is beginning to
+work." And his eyes glowed with a gloomy fire as he murmured, watching
+her: "Who knows whether I am not harboring the Lorelei herself, who is
+luring me into her kingdom to destroy me!"
+
+"What do you know of the Lorelei?"
+
+Freyer stopped. "Do you suppose I read nothing? What else should I do
+during the long evenings, when wearied by my work, I am resting at
+home?"
+
+"Really?" she asked absently, drawing him forward.
+
+"Do you suppose I could understand a woman like you if I had not
+educated myself a little? Alas, we cannot accomplish much when the
+proper foundation is lacking. The untrained memory retains nothing
+firmly except what passes instantly into flesh and blood, the
+perception of life as it is reflected to us from the mirror of art. But
+even this reflection is sometimes distorted and confuses our natural
+thoughts and feelings. Alas, dear one, a person who has learned nothing
+correctly, and yet knows the yearning for something higher, without
+being able to satisfy it--is like a lost soul that never attains the
+goal for which it longs."
+
+"My poor friend, I do know that feeling--to a certain extent it is the
+same with us women. We, too, have the yearning for education, and
+finally attain only a defective amount of knowledge! But, by way of
+compensation, individuality, directness, intuitiveness are developed
+all the more fully. You did not need to know anything--your influence
+is exerted through your personality; as such you are great. All
+knowledge comes from man, and is attainable by him--the divine gift of
+individuality can neither be gained, nor bestowed, any more than
+intuition! What is all the logic of reflecting reason compared with the
+gift of intuition, which enabled you to assume the part of a God? Is
+not that a greater marvel than the hard-won result of systematic study
+at the desk?"
+
+"You are a kind comforter!" said Freyer.
+
+"Thinking makes people old!" she continued. "It has aged the human
+race, too.--Nature, simplicity, love must restore its youth! In them is
+_direct_ contact with the deity; in civilization only an indirect one.
+Fortunately for me, I have put my lips to their spring. Oh, eternal
+fountain of human nature, I drink from you with eager draughts."
+
+They had entered the forest--the tree-tops rustled high above their
+heads and at their feet rippled a mountain stream. Madeleine von
+Wildenau was silent--her heart rested on her friend's broad breast,
+heaving with the rapid throbbing of his heart, her supple figure had
+sunk wearily down by his side. "Say no more--not a word is needed
+here." The deep gloom of the woods surrounded them--a sacred stillness
+and solitude. "On every height there dwells repose!" echoed in soft
+melody above her head, the marvellous Rubinstein-Goethe song. There was
+no human voice, it seemed like a mere breath from the distance of a
+dream--like the wind sweeping over the chords of the cymbal hung by
+Lenau's gypsy on a tree, scarcely audible, already dying away again.
+Her ear had caught the notes of that Æolian harp once before: she knew
+them again; on the cross--with the words: "Into _thy_ hands I commend
+my spirit." And sweet as the voice which spoke at that time was now the
+tenor that softly, softly hushed the restless spirit of the worldling
+to slumber. "Wait; soon, soon--" and then the notes gradually rose till
+the whole buzzing, singing woodland choir seemed to join in the words:
+"Thou, too, shalt soon rest."
+
+The mysterious sound came from the depths of the great heart on which
+she rested, as if the soul had quitted the body a few moments and now,
+returning, was revealing with sweet lamentation what it had beheld in
+the invisible world.
+
+"Are you weeping?" he asked tenderly, kissing the curls which clustered
+round her forehead: "_My child_."
+
+"Oh, when you utter that word, I have a feeling which I never
+experienced before. Yes, I am, I wish to be a child in your hands. Only
+those who have ever tasted the delight of casting the burden of their
+own egoism upon any altar, whether it be religion or love--yielding
+themselves up, becoming absorbed in another, higher power--_only those_
+can know my emotions when I lean on your breast and you call me your
+child! Thus released from ourselves, thus free and untrammelled must we
+feel when we have stripped off in death the fetters of the body and
+merged all which is personal to us in God."
+
+"Heaven has destined you for itself, and you already feel how it is
+loosening your fibres and gradually drawing you up out of the soil in
+which you are rooted. That is why you wept when I sang that song to you
+here in the quiet woodland solitude. Such tears are like the drops the
+tree weeps, when a name is cut upon it. At such moments you feel the
+hand of God tearing open the bark which the world has formed around
+your heart, and the sap wells from the wounded spot. Is it not so?" He
+gently passed his hand over her eyes, glittering with unshed tears.
+
+"Ah, noble soul! How you penetrate the depths of my being! What is all
+the wit and wisdom of the educated mind, compared with the direct
+inspiration of your poetic nature. Freyer, Spring of the earth--Christ,
+Spring of humanity! My heart is putting forth its first blossom for
+you, take it." She threw herself with closed eyes upon his breast, as
+if blindly. He clasped her in a close embrace, holding her a long time
+silently in his arms. Then he said softly: "I will accept the beautiful
+blossom of your heart, my child, but not for myself." He raised his
+eyes fervently upward: "Oh, God, Thou hast opened Thy hand to the
+beggar, and made him rich that he may sacrifice to Thee what no king
+could offer. I thank Thee."
+
+Something laughed above their heads--it was a pair of wild-doves,
+cooing in the green tent over them.
+
+"Do you know why they are laughing?" asked the countess, in an altered
+tone. "They are laughing at us!"
+
+"Magdalena!"
+
+"Yes! They are laughing at the self-tormenting doubt of God's goodness.
+Look around you, see the torrent foaming, and the blue gentians
+drinking its spray, see the fruit-laden hazel, the sacred tree which
+sheltered your childhood; see the bilberries at your feet, all the
+intoxicating growth and movement of nature, and then ask yourself
+whether the God who created all this warm, sunny life is a God who only
+_takes_--not _gives_. Do you believe He would have prepared for us this
+Spring of love, that we may let its blossoms wither on the cold altar
+of duty or of prejudice? No--take what He bestows--and do not
+question."
+
+"Do not lead me into temptation, Magdalena!" he gently entreated. "I
+told you this morning that you do not know what you are unloosening."
+
+He stood before her as if transfigured, his eyes glowed with the sombre
+fire which had flashed in them a moment early that morning, a rustling
+like eagle's pinions ran through the forest--Jupiter was approaching in
+human form.
+
+The beautiful woman sat down on a log with her hands clasped in her
+lap.
+
+"A man like me loves but once, but with his whole being. I _demand_
+nothing--but what is given to me is given _wholly_, or not at all; for
+if I once have it, I will never give it up save with my life!
+
+"Not long since a stranger came here, who sang the song of the Assras,
+who die when they love. I believe I am of their race. Woman, do not
+toy, do not trifle with me! For know--I love you with the fatal love of
+those 'Assras.'"
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau trembled with delight.
+
+"If I once touch your lips, the barrier between us will have fallen!
+Will you forgive me if the flood-tide of feeling sweeps me away till I
+forget who you are and what a gulf divides the Countess Wildenau from
+the low-born peasant?"
+
+"Oh, that you can remind me of it--in this hour--!" cried the countess,
+with sorrowful reproach.
+
+He looked almost threateningly into her eyes. The dark locks around his
+head seemed to stir like the bristling mane of a lion: "Woman, you do
+not know me! If you deceive me, you will betray the most sacred emotion
+ever felt by mortal man--and it will be terribly avenged. Then the
+flame you are kindling will consume either you or me, or both. You see
+that I am now a different man. Formerly you have beheld me only when
+curbed by the victorious power of my holy task. You have conjured up
+the spirits, now they can no longer be held in thrall--will you not be
+terrified by the might of a passion which is unknown to you people of
+the world, with your calm self-control?"
+
+"_I_, terrified by you?" cried the proud woman in a tone of exultant
+rapture. "Oh, this is power, this is the very breath of the gods.
+Should I fear amid the element for which I longed--which was revealed
+to me in my own breast? Does the flame fear the fire? The Titaness
+dread the Titan? Ah, Zeus, hurl thy thunderbolt, and let the forest
+blaze as the victorious torch of nature at last released from her long
+bondage."
+
+He sat down by her side, his fiery breath fanning her cheek. "Then you
+will try it, will give me the kiss I dared not take to-day?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But it will be a betrothal kiss."
+
+"Yes."
+
+He opened his arms, and as a black moth settles upon a fragrant
+tea-rose, hovering on its velvet wings above the dewy calyx, he bent
+his head to hers, shadowing her with his dark locks and pressed his
+first kiss upon Madeleine von Wildenau's quivering lips.
+
+But such moments tempt the gods themselves, and Jupiter hovered over
+the pair, full of wrath, for he envied the Christian mortal the
+beautiful woman. He had heard her laughingly challenge him in the midst
+of the joy she had stolen from the gods, and the heavens darkened, the
+hurricane saddled the steeds of the storm, awaiting his beck, and down
+flashed the fire from the sky--a shrill cry rent the air, the highest
+tree in the forest was cleft asunder and the bridal torch lighted by
+Jupiter blazed aloft.
+
+"The gods are averse to it," said Freyer, gloomily. "Defy them!" cried
+the countess, starting up; "they are powerless--we are in the hands of
+a Higher Ruler."
+
+"Woman, you do not belong to this world, or you have no nerves which
+can tremble."
+
+"Tremble?" She laughed happily. "Tremble, by _your_ side?" Then,
+nestling closer still, she murmured: "I am as cowardly as ever woman
+was, but where I love I have the courage to defy death. Even were I to
+fall now beneath a thunderbolt, could I have a fairer death than at
+_this_ moment? You would willingly die for your Christ--and I for
+mine."
+
+"Well then, come, you noble woman, that I may shield you as well as I
+can! Now we shall see whether God is with us! I defy the elements!" He
+proudly clasped the object of his love in his arms and bore her firmly
+on through the chaos into which the whole forest had fallen. The
+tempest, howling fiercely, burst its way through the woods. The boughs
+snapped, the birds were hurled about helplessly. The destroying element
+seemed to come from both heights and depths at the same time, for it
+shook the earth and tore the roots of trees from the ground till the
+lofty trunks fell shattered and, rolling down the mountain, swept
+everything with them in the sudden ruin. With fiendish thirst for
+battle the fiery sword flamed from the sky amid the uproar, dealing
+thrust after thrust and blow after blow--while here and there scarlet
+tongues of flame shot hissing upward through the dry branches.
+
+A torrent of rain now dashed from the clouds but without quenching the
+flames, whose smoke was pressed down into the tree-tops, closely
+interlaced by the tempest. Like a gigantic black serpent, it rolled its
+coils from every direction, stifling, suffocating with the glowing
+breath of the forest conflagration, and the undulating cloud body bore
+with it in glittering, flashing sparks, millions of burning pine
+needles.
+
+"Well, soul of fire, is the heat fierce enough for you now?" asked
+Freyer, pressing the beautiful woman closer to his side to shield her
+with his own body: "Are you content now?"
+
+"Yes," she said, gasping for breath, and the eyes of both met, as if
+they felt only the fire in their own hearts and had blended this with
+the external element into a single sea of flame.
+
+Nearer, closer drew the fire in ever narrowing circles around the
+defiant pair, more and more sultry became the path, brighter grew the
+hissing blaze through which they were compelled to force their way.
+Now on the left, now on the right, the red-eyed conflagration
+confronted them amid the clouds of smoke and flame, half stifled by the
+descending floods of rain, yet pouring from its open jaws hot,
+scorching steam--fatal to laboring human chests--and obliged the
+fugitives to turn back in search of some new opening for escape.
+
+"If the rain ceases, we are lost!" said the countess with the utmost
+calmness. "Then the fire will be sole ruler."
+
+Freyer made no reply. Steadily, unflinchingly, he struggled on,
+grasping with the strength of a Titan the falling boughs which
+threatened the countess' life, shielding with both arms her uncovered
+head from the flying sparks, and ever and anon, sprinkling her hair and
+garments from some bubbling spring. The water in the brooks was already
+warm. Throngs of animals fleeing from the flames surrounded them, and
+birds with scorched wings fell at their feet. It was no longer possible
+to go down, the fire was raging below them. They were compelled to
+climb up the mountain and seek the summit.
+
+"Only have courage--forward!" were Freyer's sole words. And upward they
+toiled--through the pathless woods, through underbrush and thickets,
+over roots of trees, rolling stones, and rocks, never pausing, never
+taking breath, for the flames were close at their heels, threatening
+them with their fiendish embrace. Where the path was too toilsome,
+Freyer lifted the woman he loved in his arms and bore her over the
+rough places.
+
+At last the woods grew thinner, the boundary of the flames was passed,
+they had reached the top--were saved. The neighing steeds of the wind
+received them on the barren height and strove to hurl them back into
+the fiery grave, but Freyer's towering form resisted their assault and,
+with powerless fury, they tore away the rocks on the right and left and
+rolled them thundering down into the depths below. The water pouring
+from the clouds drenched the lovers like a billow from the sea, beating
+into their eyes, mouths, and ears till, blinded and deafened, they were
+obliged to grope their way along the cliff. The garments of the
+beautiful Madeleine von Wildenau hung around her in tatters, heavy as
+lead, her hair was loosened, dripping and dishevelled, she was
+trembling from head to foot with cold in the icy wind and rain here on
+the heights, after the heat and terror below in the smouldering
+thicket.
+
+"I know where there is a herder's hut, I'll take you to it. Cling
+closely to me, we must climb still higher."
+
+They silently continued the ascent.
+
+The countess staggered with fatigue. Freyer lifted her again in his
+arms, and, by almost superhuman exertion, bore her up the last steep
+ascent to the hut. It was empty. He placed the exhausted woman on the
+herder's straw pallet, where she sank fainting. When she regained her
+consciousness she was supported in Freyer's arms, and her face was wet
+with his tears. She gazed at him as if waking to the reality of some
+beautiful dream. "Is it really you?" she asked, with such sweet
+childlike happiness, as she threw her arms around him, that the strong
+man's brain and heart reeled as if his senses were failing.
+
+"You are alive, you are safe?" He could say no more. He kissed her
+dripping garments her feet, and tenderly examined her beautiful limbs
+to assure himself that she had received no injury. "Thank Heaven!" he
+cried joyously, amid his tears, "you are safe!" Then, half staggering,
+he rose: "Now, in the presence of the deadly peril we have just
+escaped, tell me whether you really love me, tell me whether you are
+mine, _wholly_ mine! Or hurl me down into the blazing forest--it would
+be more merciful, by Heaven! than to deceive me."
+
+"Joseph!" cried the countess, clinging passionately to him. "Can you
+ask that--now?"
+
+"Alas! I cannot understand how a poor ignorant man like me can win the
+love of such a woman. What can you love, save the illusion of the
+Christ, and when that has vanished--what remains?"
+
+"The divine, the real _love_!" replied the countess with a lofty
+expression.
+
+"Oh, I believe that you are sincere. But if you have deceived yourself,
+if you should ever perceive that you have overestimated me--ah, it
+would be far better for me to be lying down below amid the flames than
+to experience _that_. There is still time--consider well, and say--what
+shall it be?"
+
+"Consider?" replied the countess, drawing his head down to hers. "Tell
+the torrent to consider ere it plunges over the cliff, to dissolve into
+spray in the leap. Tell the flower to consider ere it opens to the
+sunbeam which will consume it! Will you be more petty than they? What
+is there to consider, when a mighty impulse powerfully constrains us?
+Is not this moment worth risking the whole life without asking: 'What
+is to come of it?' Ah, then--then, I have been mistaken in you and it
+will be better for us to part while there is yet time."
+
+"Oh--enchantress! You are right, I no longer know myself! Part, now?
+No, it is too late, I am yours, body and soul. Be it so, then, I will
+barter my life for this moment, and no longer doubt, for I _can_ do
+nothing else."
+
+Sinking on his knees before her, he buried his face in her lap.
+Madeleine von Wildenau embraced him with unspeakable tenderness, yet
+she felt the burden of a heavy responsibility resting upon her, for she
+now realized--that she was his destiny. She had what she desired, his
+soul, his heart, his life--nay, had he possessed immortality, he would
+have sacrificed that, too, for her sake. But now the "God" had become
+_human_--the choice was made. And, with a secret tear she gazed upon
+the husk of the beautiful illusion which had vanished.
+
+"What is the matter?" he asked suddenly, raising his head and gazing
+into her eyes with anxious foreboding. "You have grown cold."
+
+"No, only sad."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Alas! I do not know! Nothing in this world can be quite perfect." She
+drew him tenderly toward her. "This is one of those moments in which
+the highest happiness becomes pain. The fury of the elements could not
+harm us, but it is a silent, stealing sorrow, which will appease the
+envy of the gods for unprecedented earthly bliss: Mourning for my
+Christus."
+
+Freyer uttered a cry of anguish and starting up, covered his face with
+both hands. "Oh, that you are forced to remind me of it!" He rushed out
+of the hut.
+
+What did this mean. The beautiful mistress of his heart felt as if she
+had deceived herself when she believed him to be exclusively her own,
+as if there was something in the man over which she had no power!
+Filled with vague terror, she followed him. He stood leaning against
+the hut as if in a dream and did not lift his eyes. The sound of
+alarm-bells and the rattle of fire-arms echoed from the valley. The
+rain had ceased, and columns of flame were now rising high into the
+air, forming a crimson canopy above the trees in the forest. It was a
+wild scene, this glowing sea of fire into which tree after tree
+gradually vanished, the air quivering with the crash of the falling
+boughs, from which rose a shower of sparks, and a crowd of shrieking
+birds eddying amid the flames. Joseph Freyer did not heed it. The
+countess approached almost timidly. "Joseph--have I offended you?"
+
+"No, my child, on the contrary! When I reminded you to-day of the
+obligations of your rank, you were angry with me, but I thank you for
+having remembered what I forgot for your sake."
+
+"Well. But, spite of the warning, I was not ashamed of you and did not
+disown you before the Countess Wildenau! But you, Joseph, are ashamed
+of me in the presence of Christ!"
+
+He gazed keenly, sorrowfully at her. "I ashamed of you, I deny you in
+the presence of my Redeemer, who is also yours? I deny you, because
+I am forced to confess to Him that I love you beyond everything
+else--nay, perhaps more than I do _Him_? Oh, my dearest, how little you
+know me! May the day never come which will prove which of us will first
+deny the other, and may you never be forced to weep the tears which
+Peter shed when the cock crowed for the third time."
+
+She sank upon his breast. "No, my beloved, that will never be! In the
+hour when _that_ was possible, you might despise me."
+
+He kissed her forehead tenderly. "I should not do that--any more than
+Christ despised Peter. You are a child of the world, could treachery to
+me be charged against you if the strong man, the disciple of Christ,
+was pardoned for treason to the _holiest_."
+
+"Oh, my angel! It would be treason to the 'holiest,'" said the countess
+with deep emotion, "if I could deny _you_!"
+
+"Why, for Heaven's sake, Herr Freyer," shouted a voice, and the
+herdsman came bounding down the mountain side: "Can you stand there so
+quietly--amid this destruction?" The words died away in the distance.
+
+"The man is right," said the countess in a startled tone, "we are
+forgetting everything around us. Whoever has hands must help. Go--leave
+me alone here and follow the herdsman."
+
+"There is no hope of extinguishing the fire, the wood is lost!" replied
+Freyer, indifferently. "It is fortunate that it is an isolated piece of
+land, so the flames cannot spread."
+
+"But, Good Heavens, at least try to save what can yet be secured--that
+is only neighborly duty."
+
+"I shall not leave you, happen what may."
+
+"But I am safe, and perhaps some poor man's all, is burning below."
+
+"What does it matter, in this hour?"
+
+"What does it matter?" the countess indignantly exclaimed. "Joseph, I
+do not understand you! Have you so little feeling for the distress of
+your fellow men--and yet play the Christ?"
+
+Freyer gazed at the destruction with a strange expression--his noble
+figure towered proudly aloft against the gloomy, cloud-veiled sky.
+Smiling calmly, he held out his hand to the woman he loved and drew her
+tenderly to his breast: "Do not upbraid me, my dove--the wood was
+_mine_."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+
+                          BANISHED FROM EDEN.
+
+
+Silence reigned on the height. The winds had died away, the clouds were
+scattering swiftly, like an army of ghosts. The embers of the wood
+below crackled softly. The trunks had all been gnawed to the roots by
+the fiery tooth of the flames. It was like a churchyard full of clumsy
+black crosses and grave-stones on which the souls danced to and fro
+like will-o'-the-wisps.
+
+The countess rested silently on Freyer's breast. When he said: "The
+wood was mine!" she had thrown herself, unable to utter a word, into
+his arms--and had since remained clasped in his embrace in silent,
+perfect peace.
+
+Now the misty veil, growing lighter and more transparent, at last
+drifted entirely away, and the blue sky once more arched above the
+earth in a majestic dome. Here and there sunbeams darted through the
+melting cloud-rack and suddenly, as though the gates of heaven had
+opened, a double rainbow, radiant in seven-hued majesty, spanned the
+vault above them in matchless beauty.
+
+Freyer bade the countess look up. And when she perceived the exquisite
+miracle of the air, with her lover in the midst--encompassed by it, she
+raised her head and extended her arms like the bride awaiting the
+heavenly bridegroom. Her eyes rested on him as if dazzled: "Be what you
+will, man, seraph, God. Shining one, you must be mine! I will bring you
+down from the height of your cross, though you were nailed above with
+seven-fold irons. You must be mine. Freyer, hear my vow, hear it, ye
+surrounding mountains, hear it, sacred soil below, and thou radiant
+many-hued bow which, with the grace of Aphrodite, dost girdle the
+universe, risen from chaos. I swear to be your wife, Joseph Freyer,
+swear it by the God Who has appeared to me, rising from marvel to
+marvel, since my eyes first beheld you."
+
+Freyer, with bowed head, stood trembling before her. He felt as if a
+goddess was rolling in her chariot of clouds above him--as if the
+glimmering prism above were dissolving and flooding him with a sea of
+glittering sparks. "You--my wife?" he faltered, sobbing, then flung
+himself face downward before her. "This is too much--too much--"
+
+"You shall be my husband," she murmured, raising him, "let me call you
+so now until the priest's hand has united us! When, where, and how this
+can be done--I do not yet know! Let the task of deciding be left to
+hours devoted to the consideration of earthly things. This is too
+sacred, it is our spiritual marriage hour, for in it I have pledged
+myself to you in spirit and in truth! Our church is nature, our
+witnesses are heaven and earth, our candles the blazing wood
+below--your little heritage which you sacrificed for me with a smile!
+And so I give you my bridal kiss--my husband!"
+
+But Freyer did not return the caress. The old conflict again awoke--the
+conflict with his duty as the representative of Christ.
+
+"Oh, God--is it not the tempter whom Thou didst send to Thy own son on
+Mt. Hebron that he might show him all the splendors of the world,
+saying: 'All shall be thine?' Dare I be faithless to the character of
+Thy chaste son, if Thou dost appoint me to undergo the same trial? Dare
+I be happy, dare I enjoy, so long as I wear the sacred mask of His
+sufferings and sacrifice. Will it not then be a terrible fraud, and
+dare I enter the presence of God with this lie upon my conscience? Will
+He not tear the crown of thorns from my head and exclaim: 'Juggler--I
+wish to rise by the pure and saintly--not by deceivers who _feign_ my
+sufferings and with deceitful art turn the holiest things into a farce.
+Woe betide me, poor, weak mortal that I am--the trial is too severe. I
+cannot endure it. Take Thy crown--I place it in Thy hands again--and
+will personate the Christ no more."
+
+"Joseph!" exclaimed Countess Wildenau, deeply moved. "Must this be? I
+feel your anguish and am stirred as if we were parting from our dearest
+possession." She raised her tearful eyes heavenward. "Must the Christ
+vanish on the very day I plight my troth to him whom I love as Thy
+image, even as Eve must have loved Adam _for the sake of his likeness
+to God_. And must I, like Eve, no longer behold Thy face because I have
+loved the divine in mortal form after the manner of mortals? Unhappy
+doctrine of the fall of man, which renders the holiest feeling a crime,
+must we too be driven out of Paradise, must you stand between us and
+our happy intercourse with the deity? Joseph. Do you believe that the
+Saviour Who came to bring redemption to the poor human race banished
+from Eden, will be angry with you if you represent with a happy loving
+heart the sacrifice by which He saved us?"
+
+"I do not know, my beloved, you may be right. Even the time-honored
+precepts of our forefathers permit the representative of the Christ to
+be married. Yet I think differently! The highest demands claim the
+loftiest service! Whoever is permitted to personate the Saviour should
+have at that time no other feelings than moved Christ Himself, for
+_truth_ may not be born of _falsehood_."
+
+He drew the weeping woman to his heart. "You know, sweet wife--to love
+_you_ and call you _mine_ is a very different thing from the monotonous
+commonplace matrimonial happiness which our plain village women can
+bestow. You demand the _whole_ being and every power of the soul is
+consumed in you."
+
+He clasped her in an embrace so fervent that her breath almost failed,
+his eyes blazed with the passionate ardor with which the unchained
+elements seize their prey. "Say what you will, it is on your
+conscience! I can feel nothing, think of nothing save you! Nay, if they
+should drive the nails through my own flesh, I should not heed it, in
+my ardent yearning for you. I have struggled long enough, but you have
+bewitched me with the sweet promise of becoming my wife--and I am
+spoiled for personating the Christ. I am yours, take me! Only fly with
+me to the farthest corner of the world, away from the place where I was
+permitted to feel myself a part of God, and resigned it for an earthly
+happiness."
+
+"Come then, my beloved, let us go forth like the pair banished from
+Eden, and like them take upon us, for love's sake, our heavy human
+destiny! Let us bear it together, and even in exile love and worship,
+like faithful cast-off children, the Father who was once so near us!"
+
+"Amen!" said Freyer, clasping the beautiful woman who thus devoted her
+life to him in a long, silent embrace. The rainbow above their heads
+gradually paled. The radiant splendor faded. The sun was again
+concealed by clouds, and the warm azure of the sky was transformed into
+a chill grey by the rising mists. The mountain peak lay bare and
+cheerless, the earth was rent and ravaged, nothing was visible save
+rough rubble and colorless heather. An icy fog rose slowly, gathering
+more and more densely around them. Nothing could be seen save the
+sterile soil of the naked ridge on which stood the two lonely outcasts
+from Eden. The gates of their dream paradise had closed behind them,
+the spell was broken, and in silent submission they moved down the
+hard, stony path to reality, the cruel uncertainty of human destiny.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+
+                                 PIETA.
+
+
+Twilight was gathering when the pair reached the valley.
+
+The Passion Theatre loomed like a vast shadow by the roadside, and
+both, as if moved by the _same_ impulse, turned toward it.
+
+Freyer, drawing a key from his pocket, opened the door leading to the
+stage. "Shall we take leave of it?" he said.
+
+"Take leave!"
+
+The countess said no more. She knew that the success of the rest of the
+performances depended solely upon him--and it burdened her soul like a
+heavy reproach. Yet she did not tell him so, for hers he must be--at
+any cost.
+
+The strength of her passion swept her on to her robbery of the cross,
+as the wind bears away the leaf it has stripped from the tree.
+
+They entered the property room. There stood the stake, there lay the
+scourges which lacerated the sacred body. The spear that pierced his
+heart was leaning in a corner.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau gazed around her with a feeling of dread. Freyer
+had lighted a lamp. Something close beside it flashed, sending its rays
+far through the dim space. It was the cup, the communion cup! Freyer
+touched it with a trembling hand: "Farewell! I shall never offer you to
+any one again! May all blessings flow from you! Happy the hand which
+scatters them over the world and my beloved Ammergau."
+
+He kissed the brim of the goblet, and a tear fell into it, but it
+glittered with the same unshadowed radiance. Freyer turned away, and
+his eyes wandered over the other beloved trophies.
+
+There lay the reed sceptre broken on the floor.
+
+The countess shuddered at the sight. A strange melancholy stole over
+her, and tears filled her eyes.
+
+"My sceptre of reeds--broken--in the dust!" said Freyer, his voice
+tremulous with an emotion which forced an answering echo in Madeleine
+von Wildenau's soul. He raised the fragments, gazing at them long and
+mournfully. "Aye, the sad symbol speaks the truth--my strength is
+broken, my sovereignty vanished."
+
+A terrible dread overpowered the countess and she fondly clasped the
+man she loved, as a princess might press to her heart her dethroned
+husband, grieving amid the ruins of his power. "You will still remain
+king in my heart!" she said, consolingly, amid her tears.
+
+"You must now be everything to me, my loved one. In you is my Heaven,
+my justification in the presence of God. Hold me closely, firmly, for
+you must lift me in your arms out of this constant torture by the
+redeeming power of love." He rested his head wearily on hers, and she
+gladly supported the precious burden. She felt at that moment that she
+had the power to lift him from Hades, that the love in her heart was
+strong enough to win Heaven for him and herself.
+
+"Womanly nature is drawing us together!" She clung to him, so absorbed
+in blissful melancholy that his soul thrilled with an emotion never
+experienced before. Their lips now met in a kiss as pure as if all
+earthly things were at an end and their rising souls were greeting each
+other in a loftier sphere.
+
+"That was an angel's kiss!" said Freyer with a sigh, while the air
+around the stake seemed to quiver with the rustling of angels' wings,
+the chains which bound him to it for the scourging to clank as though
+some invisible hand had flung one end around the feet of the fugitives,
+to bind them forever to the place of the cross.
+
+"Come, I have one more thing to do." He took the lamp from the table
+and went into the dressing-room.
+
+There hung the raiment in which a God revealed Himself to mortal
+eyes--the ample garments stirred mysteriously in the draught from the
+open door. A glimmering white figure seemed to be soaring upward in one
+corner--it was the Resurrection robe. Inflated by the wind, it floated
+with a ghost-like movement, while the man divested of his divinity
+stood with clasped hands and drooping head--to say farewell.
+
+When a mortal strips off his earthly husk he knows that he will
+exchange it for a brighter one! _Here_ a mortal was stripping off his
+robe of light and returning to the oppressive form of human
+imperfection. This, too, was a death agony.
+
+The countess clung to him tenderly. "Have you forgotten me?"
+
+He threw his arm around her. "Why, sweet one?"
+
+"I mean," she said, with childlike grace, "that if you thought of _me_,
+you could not be so sad."
+
+"My child, I forget you at the moment I am resigning Heaven for your
+sake. You do not ask that seriously. As for the pain, let me endure
+it--for if I could do this with a _light_ heart, would the sacrifice be
+worthy of you? By the anguish it costs me you must measure the
+greatness of my love, if you can."
+
+"I can, for even while I rest upon your heart, while my lips eagerly
+inhale your breath, I pine with longing for your lost divinity."
+
+"And no longer love me as you did when I was the Christ. Be frank--it
+will come!"
+
+He pressed his hands upon his breast, while his eyes rested mournfully
+on the shining robe which seemed to beckon to him from the gloom.
+
+"Oh, what are you saying! You sacrifice for me the greatest possession
+which man ever resigned for woman; the illusion of deity--and I am to
+punish you for the renunciation by loving you less? Joseph, what _you_
+give me, no king can bestow. Crowns have been sacrificed for a woman's
+sake, crowns of gold--but never one like this!"
+
+"My wife!" he murmured in sweet, mournful tones, while his dark eyes
+searched hers till her very soul swooned under the power of the look.
+
+She clasped her hands upon his breast. "Will you grant me one favor?"
+
+"If I can."
+
+"Ah, then, appear to me once more as the Christ. I will go out upon the
+stage. Throw the sacred robe over you--let me see Him once more, clasp
+His knees--let me take farewell, an eternal farewell of the departing
+One."
+
+"My child, that would be a sin! Are you again forgetting what you
+yourself perceived this morning with prescient grief--that I am a man?
+Dare I continue the sacred character outside of the play? That would be
+working wrong under the mask of my Saviour."
+
+"No, it would be no wrong to satisfy the longing for His face. I will
+not touch you, only once more, for the last time show my wondering eyes
+the sublime figure and let the soul pour forth all the anguish of
+parting to the vanishing God."
+
+"My wife, where is your error carrying you! Did the God-Man I
+personated vanish because I stripped off His mask? Poor wife, the
+anguish which now masters you is remorse for having in your sweet
+womanly weakness destroyed the pious illusion and never rested until
+you made the imaginary God a man. Oh, Magdalena, how far you still are
+from the goal gained by your predecessor. Come, I will satisfy your
+longing; I will lead you where you will perceive that He is everywhere,
+if we really seek Him, that the form alone is perishable. He is
+imperishable." Then gently raising her, he tenderly repeated: "Come.
+Trust me and follow me." Casting one more sorrowful glance around him,
+he took from the table the crown of thorns, extinguished the lamp, and
+with a steady arm guided the weeping woman through the darkness.
+Outside of the building the stars were shining brightly, the road was
+distinctly visible. The countess unresistingly accompanied him. He
+turned toward the village and they walked swiftly through the silent
+streets. At last the church rose, dark and solemn, before them. He led
+her in. A holy-water font stood at the entrance, and, pausing, he
+sprinkled her with the water. Then they entered. The church was dark.
+No light illumined it save the trembling rays of the ever-burning lamp
+and two candles flickering low in their sockets before an image of the
+Madonna in a remote corner. They were obliged to grope their way
+forward slowly amid the wavering shadows. At the left of the entrance
+stood a "Pieta." It was a group almost life-size, carved from wood. The
+crucified Saviour in the Madonna's lap. Mary Magdalene was supporting
+his left hand, raising it slightly, while John stood at the Saviour's
+feet. The whole had been created by an artist's hand with touching
+realism. The expression of anguish in the Saviour's face was very
+affecting. Before the group stood a priedieu on which lay several
+withered wreaths.
+
+The countess' heart quivered; he was leading her there! So this was to
+be the compensation for the living image? Mere dead wood?
+
+Freyer drew her gently down upon the priedieu. "Here, my child, learn
+to seek him here, and when you have once found Him, you will never lose
+Him more. Lay your hands devoutly on the apparently lifeless breast and
+you will feel the heart within throbbing, as in mine--only try."
+
+"Alas, I cannot, it will be a falsehood if I do."
+
+"What, _that_ a falsehood, and I--was _I_ the Christ?"
+
+"I could imagine it!"
+
+"Because I breathed? Ah, the breath of the deity can swell more than a
+human breast, sister, and you will hear it! Collect your thoughts--and
+pray!"
+
+His whisper grew fainter, the silence about her more solemn. "I cannot
+pray; I never have prayed," she lamented, "and surely not to lifeless
+wood."
+
+"Only try--for my sake," he urged gently, as if addressing a restless
+child, which ought to go to sleep and will not.
+
+"Yes; but stay with me," she pleaded like a child, clinging to his arm.
+
+"I will stay," he said, kneeling by her side.
+
+"Teach me to pray as you do," she entreated, raising her delicate hands
+to him. He clasped them in his, and she felt as if the world could do
+her no further harm, that her soul, her life, lay in his firm hands.
+
+The warmth emanating from him became in her a devout fervor. The pulses
+of ardent piety throbbing in his finger-tips seemed to communicate a
+wave-like motion to the surrounding air, which imparted to everything
+which hitherto had been dead and rigid, an undulating movement that
+lent it a faint, vibrating life.
+
+Something stirred, breathed, murmured before and above her. There was a
+rustling among the withered leaves of the garlands at the foot of the
+Pieta, invisible feet glided through the church and ascended the steps
+of the high altar; high up the vaulted dome rose a murmur which
+wandered to the folds of the funeral banner, hanging above, passing
+from pillar to pillar, from arch to arch, in ghostly echoes which the
+listening ear heard with secret terror, the language of the silence.
+And the burning eyes beheld the motionless forms begin to stir. The
+contours of the figures slowly changed in the uncertain, flickering
+light, the shadows glided and swung to and fro. The Saviour's lips
+opened, then slowly closed, the kneeling woman touched the rigid limbs
+and laid her fevered fingers on the wounded breast. The other hand
+rested in Freyer's. A chain was thus formed between the three, which
+thrilled and warmed the wood with the circulating stream of the hot
+blood. It was no longer a foreign substance--it was the heart, the poor
+pierced heart of their beloved, divine friend. It throbbed, suffered,
+bled. More and more distinctly the chest rose and fell with the regular
+breathing. It was the creative breath of the deity, which works in the
+conscious and unconscious object, animating even soulless matter. The
+arm supported by Mary Magdalene swayed to and fro, the fingers of the
+hand moved gently. The poor pierced hand--it seemed as if it were
+trying to move toward the countess, as if it were pleading, "Cool my
+pain."
+
+Urged by an inexplicable impulse, the countess warmed the stiff,
+slender fingers in her own. She fancied that it was giving relief.
+Higher and higher swelled the tide of feeling in her heart until it
+overflowed--and--she knew not how, she had risen and pressed a kiss
+upon the wounds in the poor little hand, a kiss of the sweetest, most
+sacred piety. She felt as if she were standing by a beloved corpse
+whose mute lips we seek, though they no longer feel.
+
+She could not help it, and bending down again the rosy lips of the
+young widow rested on the pale half-parted ones of the statue. But the
+lips breathed, a cool, pure breath issued from them, and the rigid form
+grew more pliant beneath the sorrowful caress, as though it felt the
+reconciling pain of the penitent human soul. But the divine fire which
+was to purify this soul, blazed far beyond its boundaries in this first
+ardor. Overpowered by a wild fervor, she flung herself on her knees and
+adjured the God whose breath she had drunk in that kiss, to hear her.
+The friend praying at her side was forgotten, the world had vanished,
+every law of reason was annihilated, all knowledge was out of her
+mind--every hard-won conquest of human empiricism was effaced. From the
+heights and from the depths it came with rustling pinions, bearing the
+soul away on the flood-tide of mercy. The _miracle_ was approaching--in
+unimagined majesty.
+
+Thousands of years vanished, eternity dawned in that _one_ moment. All
+that was and is, _was_ not and _is_ not--past, present, and future,
+were blended and melted into a single breath beyond the boundaries of
+the natural life.
+
+"If it is Thou, if Thou dost live, look at me," she had cried with
+ardent aspiration, and, lo!--was it shadow or imagination?--the eyes
+opened and two large dark pupils were fixed upon her, then the lids
+closed for an instant to open again The countess gazed more and more
+earnestly; it was distinct, unmistakable. A shudder ran through her
+veins as, in a burning fever, the limbs tremble with a sudden chill.
+She tried to meet the look, but spite of the tension in every nerve,
+the effort was futile. It was too overpowering; it was the gaze of a
+God. Dread and rapture were contending for the mastery. Doubtless she
+said to herself, "It is not _outside_ of you, but within you." Once
+more she ventured to glance at the mysterious apparition, but the eyes
+were fixed steadily upon her. Terror overpowered her. The chord of the
+possible snapped and she sank half senseless on the steps of the altar,
+while the miracle closed its golden wings above her.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+
+                        THE CROWING OF THE COCK.
+
+
+A loud step roused the rapt enthusiast from her visions. The sacristan
+was passing through the church, extinguishing the candles which,
+meanwhile, had burned down in their sockets before the Madonna in the
+distant corner.
+
+"I beg your pardon for disturbing you," he said; "but I wanted to close
+the church. There is plenty of time, however. Shall I leave a candle?
+It will be too dark; the lamp alone does not give sufficient light."
+
+"I thank you," replied Freyer, more thoughtful than the countess, who,
+unable to control herself, remained on her knees with her face buried
+in her hands.
+
+"I will lock the church when we leave it and bring you the key," Freyer
+added, and the sacristan was satisfied. The imperious high priest
+withdrew silently and modestly, that he might not disturb the prayers
+of the man whom he sentenced to death every week with such fury.
+
+The lovers were again alone, but the door remained open. The shrill
+crowing of a cock suddenly echoed through the stillness from the yard
+of the neighboring parsonage. The countess started up. Her eyes were
+painfully dazzled by the light of the wax candle so close at hand.
+Before her, the face smeared with shining varnish, lay the wooden
+Christ, hard and cold in its carven bareness and rigidity. The
+pale-blue painted eyes gazed with the traditional mournfulness upon the
+ground.
+
+"What startled you just now?" asked Freyer.
+
+"I don't know whether it was a miracle or a shadow, which created the
+illusion, but I would have sworn that the statue moved its lids and
+looked at me."
+
+"Be it what it might, it was still a miracle," said Freyer. "If the
+finger of God can paint the Saviour's eyes to the excited vision from
+the wave of blood set in motion by the pulsation of our hearts, or from
+the shadow cast by a smoking candle, is that any less wonderful than if
+the stiff lids had really moved?"
+
+The countess breathed a long sigh of relief; "Yes, you are right. That
+is the power which, as you say, can do more than swell a human breast,
+it can make, for the yearning soul, a heart throb even in a Christ
+carved from wood. Even if what I have just experienced could have been
+done by lifeless matter, the power which brought us together was
+divine, and no one living could have resisted it. Lay aside your crown
+of thorns trustfully and without remorse, you have accomplished your
+mission, you have saved the soul for which God destined you, it was His
+will, and who among us could resist Him?"
+
+Freyer raised the crown of thorns, which he still held, to his lips,
+kissed it, and laid it at the feet of the Pieta: "Lord, Thy will be
+done, in so far as it is Thy will. And if it is not, forgive the
+error."
+
+"It is no error, I understand God's purpose better. He has sent me His
+image in you and given it to me in an attainable human form, that I may
+learn through it to do my duty to the prototype. To the feeble power of
+the novice in faith. He graciously adds an earthly guide. Oh, He is
+good and merciful!"
+
+She raised Freyer from his knees: "Come, thou God-given one, that I may
+fulfil the sweetest duty ever imposed on any mortal, that of loving you
+and making you happy. God and His holy will be praised."
+
+"And will you no longer grieve for the lost Christ?"
+
+"No, for you were right. He is everywhere!"
+
+"In God's name then, come and obey the impulse of your heart, even
+though I perish."
+
+"Can you speak so to-day, Joseph?"
+
+"To-day especially. Would you not just now have sworn to the truth of
+an illusion conjured up by a shadow? And were you not disappointed when
+the light came and the spell vanished? The time will come when you will
+see me, as you now do this wooden figure, in the light of commonplace
+reality, and then the nimbus will vanish and nothing will remain save
+the dross as here. Then your soul will turn away disenchanted and
+follow the vanished God to loftier heights."
+
+"Or plunge into the depths," murmured the countess.
+
+"I should not fear that, for then my mission would have been vain! No,
+my child, if I did not believe that I was appointed to save you I
+should have no excuse in my own eyes for what I am doing. But come, it
+is late, we must return home or our absence will occasion comment."
+
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+It was half-past nine o'clock. An elderly gentleman of distinguished
+aristocratic bearing was pacing impatiently to and fro.
+
+The two sisters were standing helplessly in the doorway, deeply
+oppressed by the burden of so haughty a guest.
+
+"If she would only come!" Sephi lamented in the utmost anxiety, for she
+dreaded the father for the daughter's sake. It was the old Prince von
+Prankenberg, and his bearing augured nothing good.
+
+It seemed to these loyal souls a democratic impertinence on the part of
+fate that _such_ a gentleman should be kept waiting, and the prince
+regarded it in precisely the same light. The good creatures would
+willingly have lent wings to the daughter for whom _such_ a father was
+waiting. But what did it avail that the noble lord constantly quickened
+his pace as he walked to and fro, time and his unsuspicious daughter
+did not do the same. Prince Prankenberg had reached Ammergau at noon
+that day and waited in vain for the countess. On his arrival he had
+found the whole village in an uproar over the conflagration in the
+woods, and the countess and Herr Freyer, who had been seen walking
+together in that direction, were missing. At last the herder reported
+that they had been in the mountain pasture with him, and Ludwig Gross,
+on his return from directing the firemen in the futile effort to
+extinguish the flames, set off to inform the Countess Wildenau of her
+father's arrival. He had evidently failed to find her, for he ought to
+have returned long before. So the faithful women had been on coals of
+fire ever since. Andreas Gross had gone to the village to look for the
+absent ones, as if that could be of any service! Josepha was gazing
+sullenly through the window-panes at the prince, who had treated her as
+scornfully as if she were a common maid-servant, when she offered to
+show him the way to the countess' room, and answered: "People can't
+stay in such a hole!" Meanwhile night had closed in.
+
+At last, coming from exactly the opposite direction, a couple
+approached whose appearance attracted the nobleman's attention. A
+female figure, bare-headed, with dishevelled hair and tattered,
+disordered garments, leaning apparently almost fainting on the arm of a
+tall, bearded man in a peasant's jacket. Could it--no, it was
+impossible, that _could_ not be his daughter.
+
+The unsuspecting pair came nearer. The lady, evidently exhausted, was
+really almost carried by her companion. It was too dark for the prince
+to see distinctly, but her head seemed to be resting on the peasant's
+breast. An interesting pair of lovers! But they drew nearer, the prince
+could not believe his eyes, it _was_ his daughter, leaning on a
+peasant's arm. There was an involuntary cry of horror from both as
+Countess Wildenau stood face to face with her haughty father. The blood
+fairly congealed in Madeleine's veins, her cheeks blanched till their
+pallor glimmered through the gloom! Yet the habit of maintaining social
+forms did not desert her: "Oh, what a surprise! Good evening, Papa!"
+
+Her soul had retreated to the inmost depths of her being, and she was
+but a puppet moving and speaking by rule.
+
+Freyer raised his hat in a farewell salute.
+
+"Are you going?" she said with an expressionless glance. "I suppose I
+cannot ask you to rest a little while? Farewell, Herr Freyer, and many
+thanks."
+
+How strange! Did it not seem as if a cock crowed?
+
+Freyer bowed silently and walked on, "Adieu!" said the prince without
+lifting his hat. For an instant he considered whether he could possibly
+offer his aim to a lady in _such_ attire, but at last resolved to do
+so--she was his daughter, and this was not exactly the right moment to
+quarrel with her. So, struggling with his indignation and disgust, he
+escorted her, holding his arm very far out as though he might be soiled
+by the contact, through the house into her room. The Gross sisters,
+with trembling hands, brought in lights and hastily vanished. Madeleine
+von Wildenau stood in the centre of the room, like an automaton whose
+machinery had run down. The prince took a candle from the table and
+threw its light full upon her face. "Pardon me, I must ascertain
+whether this lady, who looks as if she had just jumped out of a
+gipsy-cart, is really my daughter? Yes, it is actually she!" he
+exclaimed in a tone intended to be humorous, but which was merely
+brutal. "So I find the Countess Wildenau in _this_ guise--ragged, worn,
+with neither hat nor gloves, wandering about with peasants! It is
+incredible!"
+
+The countess sank into a chair without a word. Her father's large,
+stern features were flushed with a wrath which he could scarcely
+control.
+
+"Have you gone out of fashion so completely that you must seek your
+society in such circles as these, _ma fille_? Could no cavalier be
+found to escort the Countess Wildenau that she must strike up an
+intimacy with one of the comedians in the Passion Play?"
+
+"An intimacy? Papa, this is an insult!" exclaimed the countess angrily,
+for though it was true, she felt that on his lips and in _his_ meaning
+it was such! Again a cock crowed at this unwonted hour.
+
+"Well _ma chère_, when a lady is caught half embraced by such a man,
+the inference is inevitable."
+
+"Dear me, I was so exhausted that I could scarcely stand," replied the
+countess, softly, as if the cocks might hear: "We were caught by the
+storm and the man was obliged to support me. I should think, however,
+that the Countess Wildenau's position was too high for such
+suspicions."
+
+"Well, well, I heard in Munich certain rumors about your long stay here
+which accorded admirably with the romantic personage who has just left
+you. My imaginative daughter always had strange fancies, and as you
+seem able to endure the peasant odor--I am somewhat more sensitive to
+it ..."
+
+"Papa!" cried the countess, frantic with shame. "I beg you not to speak
+in that way of people whom I esteem."
+
+"Aha!" said the prince with a short laugh, "Your anger speaks plainly
+enough. I will make no further allusion to these delicate relations."
+
+The countess remained silent a moment, struggling with her emotions.
+Should she confess all--should she betray the mystery of the "God in
+man?" Reveal it to this frivolous, prosaic man from whose mockery,
+even in her childhood, she had carefully concealed every nobler
+feeling--disclose to him her most sacred possession, the miracle of her
+life? No, it would be desecration. "I _have_ no delicate relations! I
+scarcely know these people--I am interested in this Freyer as the
+representative of the Christ--he is nothing more to me."
+
+The cede crowed for the third time.
+
+"What was that? I am continually hearing cocks crow to-night. Did you
+hear nothing?" asked the countess.
+
+"Not the slightest sound! Have you hallucinations?" asked the prince:
+"The cocks are all asleep at this hour."
+
+She knew it--the sound was but the echo of her own conscience. She
+thought of the words Freyer had uttered that day upon the mountain, and
+his large eyes gazed mournfully, yet forgivingly at her. Now she knew
+why Peter was pardoned! He would not suffer the God in whom he could
+not force men to believe to be profaned--so he concealed Him in his
+heart. He knew that the bond which united him to Christ and the work
+which he was appointed to do for Him was greater than the cheap
+martyrdom of an acknowledgment of Him to the dull ears of a handful of
+men and maid-servants! It was no lie when he said: "I know not the
+man"--for he really did _not_ know the Christ whom _they_ meant. He was
+denying--not _Christ_, but the _criminal_, whom they believed Him to
+be. It was the same with the countess. She was not ashamed of the man
+she loved, only of the person her father saw in him and, as she could
+not explain to the prince what Joseph Freyer was to her, she denied him
+entirely. But even as Peter mourned as a heavy sin the brief moment in
+which he faithlessly separated from his beloved Master, she, too, now
+felt a keen pang, as though a wound was bleeding in her heart, and
+tears streamed from her eyes.
+
+"You are nervous, _ma fille_! It isn't worth while. Tears for the sake
+of that worthy villager?" said the prince, with a contemptuous shrug of
+the shoulders. "Listen, _ma chère_, I believe it would be better for
+you to marry."
+
+"Papa!" exclaimed the countess indignantly.
+
+The prince laughed: "No offence, when women like you begin to be
+sentimental--it is time for them to marry! You were widowed too
+young--it was a misfortune for you."
+
+"A misfortune? May God forgive you the sneer and me the words--it was a
+misfortune that Wildenau lived so long--nay more: that I ever became
+his wife, and you, Papa, ought never to remind me of it."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I might forget that you _are_ my father--as _you_ forget it
+when you sold me to that greybeard?"
+
+"Sold? What an expression, _chére enfant_! Is this the result of your
+study of peasant life here? I congratulate you on the enlargement of
+your vocabulary. This is the gratitude of a daughter for whom the most
+brilliant match in the whole circle of aristocratic families was
+selected."
+
+"And her soul sold in exchange," the countess interrupted; "for that my
+moral nature was not utterly destroyed is no credit of yours."
+
+The prince smiled with an air of calm superiority: "Capital! Moral
+nature destroyed! When a girl is wedded to one of the oldest members of
+the German nobility and made the possession of a yearly income of half
+a million! That is what she calls moral destruction and an outrageous
+deed, of which the inhuman father must not remind his daughter without
+forfeiting his _paternal rights_. It is positively delicious!" He
+laughed and drew out his cigar case: "You see, _ma fille_--I understand
+a jest. Will you be annoyed if I smoke a Havana in this rural
+bed-room?"
+
+"As you please!" replied the countess, who had now regained her former
+cold composure, holding the candle to him. The prince scanned her
+features with the searching gaze of a connoisseur as she thus stood
+before him illumined by the ruddy glow. "You have lost a little of your
+freshness, my child, but you are still beautiful--still charming. I
+admit that Wildenau was rather too old for a poetic nature like
+yours--but there is still time to compensate for it. When were you
+born? A father ought not to ask his daughter's age--but the Almanach de
+Gotha tells the story. You must be now--stop! You were not quite
+seventeen when you married Wildenau--you were married nine years--you
+have been a widow two--that makes you twenty-eight. There is still
+time, but--not much to lose! I am saying this to you in a mother's
+place, my child"--he added, with a repulsive affectation of tenderness.
+His daughter made no reply.
+
+"It is true, you will lose your income if you give up the name of
+Wildenau--as the will reads 'exchange it for another.' This somewhat
+restricts your choice, for you can resign this colossal dower only in
+favor of a match which can partially supply your loss."
+
+The countess turned deadly pale. "That is the curse Wildenau hurled
+upon me from his grave. It was not enough that I was miserable during
+his life, no--I must not be happy even after his death."
+
+"Why--who has told you so? You have your choice among any of the
+handsome and wealthy men who can offer you an equivalent for all that
+you resign. Prince von Metten-Barnheim, for instance! He is a
+visionary, it is true--"
+
+"Prosaic Prince Emil a visionary!" said the countess, laughing
+bitterly.
+
+"Well, I think that a man who surrounds himself so much with plebeian
+society, scholars and authors, might properly be termed a visionary!
+When his father dies, the luckless country will be ruled by loud-voiced
+professors. What does that matter! He'll suit you all the better, as
+you are half a scholar yourself. True, it might be said that the
+Barnheim family is of inferior rank to ours--the Prankenbergs are an
+older race and from the days of Charlemagne have not made a single
+_mesalliance_, while the Barnheim genealogical tree shows several
+gaps--which explains their liberal tendencies. Such things always
+betray themselves. Yet on the other hand, they are reigning dukes, and
+we a decaying race--so it is tolerably equal. You are interested in
+him--so decide at last and marry him, then you will be a happy woman
+and the curse of the will can have no power."
+
+"Indeed?" cried the countess, trembling with excitement. "But suppose
+that I loved another, a poor man, whom I could not wed unless I
+possessed some property of my own, however small, and the will made me
+a _beggar_ the moment I gave him my hand--what then? Should I not have
+a right to hate the jealous despot and the man who sacrificed me to his
+selfish interests--even though he was my own father?" A glance of the
+keenest reproach fell upon the prince.
+
+He was startled by this outburst of passion, hitherto unknown in his
+experience of this apathetic woman. He could make no use of her present
+mood. Biting off a leaf from his cigar, he blew it into the air with a
+graceful movement of the lips. Some change had taken place in
+Madeleine, that was evident! If, after all, she should commit some
+folly--make a love-match? But with whom? Again the scene he had
+witnessed that evening rose before his mind! She had let her head rest
+on the shoulder of a common peasant--that could not be denied, he had
+_seen_ it with his own eyes. Did such a delusion really exist? A woman
+of her temperament was incomprehensible--she would be quite capable, in
+a moment of enthusiasm, of throwing her whole splendid fortune away and
+giving society an unparalleled spectacle. Who could tell what ideas
+such a "lunatic" might take into her head. And yet--who could prevent
+it? No one had any power over her--least of all he himself, who could
+not even threaten her with disinheritance, since it was long since he
+had possessed anything he could call his own. An old gambler,
+perpetually struggling with debt, who had come that day, that very day,
+to--nay, he was reluctant to confess it to himself. And he had already
+irritated his daughter, his last refuge, the only support which still
+kept his head above water, more than was wise or prudent--he dared not
+venture farther.
+
+He had the suppressed brutality of all violent natures which cannot
+have their own way, are not masters of their passions and their
+circumstances, and hence are constantly placed in the false position of
+being compelled to ask the aid of others!
+
+After having busied himself a sufficiently long time with his cigar,
+he said in a soothing and--for so imperious a man--repulsively
+submissive tone: "Well, _ma fille_, there is an expedient for that case
+also. If you loved a man who was too poor to maintain an establishment
+suitable for you--you might do the one thing without forfeiting the
+other--Wildenau's will mentions only _a change of name_: you might
+marry secretly--keep his name and with it his property."
+
+"Papa!" exclaimed the countess--a burning blush crimsoned her cheeks,
+but her eyes were fixed with intense anxiety upon the speaker--"I could
+not expect that from a husband whom I esteemed and loved."
+
+"Why not? If he could offer you no maintenance, he could not ask you to
+sacrifice yours! Surely it would be enough if you gave him yourself."
+
+"If he would accept me under such conditions,"' she answered,
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Aha--we are on the right track!" the prince reflected, watching her
+keenly. "As soon as he perceived that there was no other possibility of
+making you his--certainly! A woman like you can persuade a man to do
+anything. I don't wish to be indiscreet, but, _ma fille_--I fear that
+you have made a choice of which you cannot help being ashamed. Could
+you think of forming such an alliance except in secret. If, that is,
+you _must_ wed? What would the world say when rumor whispered:
+'Countess Wildenau has sunk so low that she'--I dare not utter the
+word, from the fear of offending you."
+
+The countess sat with downcast eyes.
+
+The world--! It suddenly stood before her with its mocking faces.
+Should she expose her sacred love to its derision? Should she force the
+noble simple-mannered man who was the salvation of her soul to play a
+ridiculous part in the eyes of society, as the husband of the Countess
+Wildenau? Her father was right--though from very different motives.
+Could this secret which was too beautiful, too holy, to be confided to
+her own father--endure the contact of the world?
+
+"But how could a secret marriage be arranged?" she asked, with feigned
+indifference.
+
+Prince von Prankenberg was startled by the earnestness of the question.
+Had matters gone so far? Caution was requisite here. Energetic
+opposition could only produce the opposite result, perhaps a public
+scandal. He reflected a moment while apparently toiling to puff rings
+of smoke into the air, as if the world contained no task more
+important. His daughter's eyes rested on him with suspicious keenness.
+At last he seemed to have formed his plan.
+
+"A secret marriage? Why, that is an easy matter for a woman of your
+wealth and independent position! Is the person in question a Catholic?"
+
+Madeleine silently nodded assent.
+
+"Well--then the matter is perfectly simple. Follow the example of
+Manzoni's _promessi sposi_, with whom we are sufficiently tormented
+while studying Italian. Go with your chosen husband to the pastor and
+declare before him, in the presence of two witnesses, who can easily be
+found among your faithful servants, that you take each other in
+marriage. According to the rite of the Catholic church, it is
+sufficient to constitute a valid marriage, if both parties make this
+declaration, even without the marriage ceremonial, in the presence of
+an ordained priest--your ordained priest in this case would be our old
+pastor at Prankenberg. You can play the farce best there. You will thus
+need no papers, no special license, which might betray you, and if you
+manage cleverly you will succeed in persuading the decrepit old man not
+to enter the marriage in the church register. Then let any one come
+and say that you are married! There will be absolutely no proof--and
+when the old pastor dies the matter will go down to the grave with him!
+You will choose witnesses on whom you can depend. What risk can there
+be?"
+
+"Father! But will that be a marriage?" cried the countess in horror.
+
+"Not according to _our_ ideas," said the prince, laconically: "But the
+point is merely that _he_ shall consider himself married, and that _he_
+shall be bound--not you?"
+
+"Father--I will not play such a farce!" She turned away with loathing.
+
+"If you are in earnest--there will be no farce, _ma chère_! It will
+rest entirely with you whether you regard yourself as married or not.
+In the former case you will have the pleasant consciousness of a moral
+act without its troublesome consequences--can go on a journey after the
+pseudo wedding, roam through foreign lands with a reliable maid, and
+then return perhaps with one or two 'adopted' children, whom, as a
+philanthropist, you will educate and no one can discover anything. The
+anonymous husband may be installed by the Countess Wildenau under some
+title on one of her distant estates, and the marriage will be as happy
+as any--only less prosaic! But you will thus spare yourself an endless
+scandal in the eyes of society, keep your pastoral dream, and yet
+remain the wealthy and powerful Countess Wildenau. Is not that more
+sensible than in Heaven knows what rhapsody to sacrifice honor,
+position, wealth, and--your old father?"
+
+"My father?" asked the countess, who had struggled with the most
+contradictory emotions while listening to the words of the prince.
+
+"Why yes"--he busied himself again with his cigar, which he was now
+obliged to exchange for another, "You know, _chère enfant_, the duties
+of our position impose claims upon families of princely rank, which,
+unfortunately, my finances no longer allow me to meet. I--h'm--I find
+myself compelled--unpleasant as it is--to appeal to my daughter's
+kindness--may I use one of these soap dishes as an ash-receiver? So I
+have come to ask whether, for the sake of our ancient name--I expect no
+childish sentimentality--whether you could help me with an additional
+sum of some fifty thousand marks annually, and ninety thousand to
+be paid at once--otherwise nothing is left for me--a light,
+please--_merci_--except to put a bullet through my head!" He paused to
+light the fresh cigar. The countess clasped her hands in terror.
+
+"Good Heavens, Papa! Are the sums Wildenau gave you already exhausted?"
+
+"What do you mean--can a Prince Prankenberg live on an income of fifty
+thousand marks? If I had not been so economical, and we did not live in
+the quiet German style, I could not have managed to make such a trifle
+hold out so _long_!"
+
+"A trifle! Then I was sold so cheaply?" cried Madeleine Wildenau with
+passionate emotion. "I have not even, in return for my wasted life, the
+consciousness of having saved my father? Yes, yes, if this is true--I
+am no longer free to choose! I shall remain to the end of my days the
+slave of my dead husband, and must steal the happiness for which
+I long like forbidden fruit. You have chosen the moment for this
+communication well--it must be true! You have destroyed the first
+blossom of my life, and now, when it would fain put forth one last bud,
+you blight that, too."
+
+The prince rose. "I regret having caused you any embarrassment by my
+affairs. As I said, you are your own mistress. If I did not put a
+bullet through my head long ago, it was purely out of consideration for
+you, that the world might not say: 'Prince von Prankenberg shot himself
+on account of financial embarrassment because his wealthy daughter
+would not aid him!' I wished to save you this scandal--that is why I
+gave you the choice of helping me if you preferred to do so."
+
+The countess shuddered. "You know that such threats are not needed! If
+I wept, it was not for the sake of the paltry money, but all the
+unfortunate circumstances. How can I ever be happy, even in a secret
+marriage, if I am constantly compelled to dread discovery for my
+father's sake? If it were for a father impoverished by misfortune,
+the tears shed for my sacrifice of happiness would be worthy of
+execration--but, Papa, to be compelled to sacrifice the holiest feeling
+that ever thrilled a human heart for gambling, race-courses, and the
+women of doubtful reputation who consume your property--that is hard
+indeed!"
+
+"Spare your words, _ma fille_, I am not disposed to purchase your help
+at the cost of a lecture. Either you will relieve me from my
+embarrassments without reproaches, or you will be the daughter of a
+suicide--what is the use of all this philosophizing? A lofty unsullied
+name is a costly article! Make your choice. _I_ for my own part set
+little value on life. I am old, a victim to the gout, have grown too
+stiff to ride or enjoy sport of any kind, have lost my luck with
+women--there is nothing left but gambling. If I must give that
+up, too, then _rogue la galère_! In such a case, there are but two
+paths--_corriger la fortune_--or die. But a Prankenberg would rather
+die &an to take the former."
+
+"Father! What are you saying! Alas, that matters have gone so far! Woe
+betide a society that dismisses an old man from its round of pleasures
+so bankrupt in every object, every dignity, that no alternative remains
+save suicide or cheating at the gaming-table--unless he happens, by
+chance, to have a wealthy daughter!"
+
+"My beloved child!" said the prince, who now found it advisable to
+adopt a tone of pathos.
+
+"Pray, say no more, Father. You have never troubled yourself about your
+daughter, have never been a father to me--if you had, you would not now
+stand before me so miserable, so poor in happiness. This is past
+change. Alas, that I cannot love and respect my father as I ought--that
+I cannot do what I am about to do more gladly. Yet I am none the less
+ready to fulfill my duties towards you. So far as lies in my power, I
+will afford you the possibility of continuing your pitiful life of
+shams, and leave it to your discretion how far you draw upon my income.
+It is fortunate that you came in time--in a few days it might have been
+too late. I see now that I must not give up my large income so long as
+my father needs the money. My dreams of a late, but pure happiness are
+shattered! You will understand that one needs time to recover from such
+a blow and pardon my painful excitement."
+
+She rose, with pallid face and trembling limbs: "I will place the
+papers necessary to raise the money in your hands early to-morrow
+morning, and you will forget this painful scene sooner than I."
+
+"You have paid me few compliments--but I shall bear no malice--you are
+nervous to-day, my fair daughter. And even if you do not bestow your
+aid in the most generous way, nevertheless you help me. Let me kiss
+your liberal hand! Ah, it is exactly like your mother's. When I think
+that those slender, delicate fingers have been laid in the coarse fist
+of Heaven knows what plebeian, I think great credit is due me--"
+
+"Do not go on!" interrupted the countess, imperiously. "I think I have
+done my duty, Papa--but the measure is full, and I earnestly entreat
+you to let me rest to-day."
+
+"It is the fate of fathers to let their daughters rule them," replied
+the prince in a jesting tone. "Well, it is better to be ill-treated by
+a daughter than by a sweetheart. You see I, too, have some moral
+impulses, since I have been in your strict society. May the father whom
+you judge so harshly be permitted to kiss your forehead?"
+
+The countess silently submitted--but a shudder ran through her frame as
+if the touch had defiled her. She felt that it was the Judas kiss of
+the world, not the caress of a father.
+
+The prince wiped his mouth with a sensation of secret disgust. "Who
+knows what lips have touched that brow today?" He dared not think of
+it, or it would make him ill.
+
+"_Ma chère_, however deeply I am indebted to you, I must assert my
+paternal rights a few minutes. You have said so many bitter things,
+whose justice I will not deny, that you will permit me to utter a few
+truthful words also." Fixing his eyes upon her with a stern, cold gaze,
+he said in a low tone, placing a marked emphasis on every word: "We
+have carried matters very far--you and I--the last of the ancient
+Prankenberg race! A pretty pair! the father a bankrupt, and the
+daughter--on the eve of marrying a peasant."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau, deadly pale, stood leaning with compressed lips
+on the back of her armchair.
+
+The prince laid his hand on her shoulder. "We may both say that to-day
+_each_ has saved the _other_! This is my reparation for the humiliating
+role fate has forced upon me in your presence. Am I not right?
+Good-night, my queenly daughter--and I hope you bear me no ill-will."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+
+                               PRISONED.
+
+
+The prince had left the room, and she heard him walk through the
+work-shop. Silence fell upon the house and the street. The tortured
+woman, utterly exhausted, sank upon her bed--her feet would support her
+no longer. But she could get no rest; an indescribable grief filled her
+heart. Everything had happened precisely as Freyer had predicted.
+Before the cock crowed, she had thrice betrayed him, betrayed him in
+the very hour when she had sworn fidelity. At the first step she was to
+take on the road of life with the man she loved, at the first glance
+from the basilisk eyes of conventional prejudice, she shrank back like
+a coward and could not make up her mind to acknowledge him. This was
+her purification, this the effect of a feeling which, as she believed,
+had power to conquer the world? Everything was false--she despaired of
+all things--of her future, of herself, of the power of Christianity,
+which she, like all new converts, expected would have the might to
+transform sinners into saints in a single moment. One thing alone
+remained unchanged, _one_ image only was untouched by any tinge of
+baseness amid the turmoil of emotions seething in her heart--Freyer. He
+alone could save her--she must go to him. Springing from her bed she
+hurried into the work-shop. "Where is your son?" she asked Andreas
+Gross, who was just preparing to retire.
+
+"I suppose he is in his room, Countess."
+
+"Bring him to me at once."
+
+"Certainly, Countess."
+
+"Shall I undress Your Highness?" asked Josepha, who was still waiting
+for her orders.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau's eyes rested on the girl with a searching
+expression, as if she saw her now for the first time. Was she
+faithful--as faithful as a maid must be to make it possible to carry
+out the plan her father had suggested? Josepha gazed steadily into the
+countess' eyes, her frank face expressed nothing but innocent wonder
+at so long a scrutiny. "Yes--you are faithful," said the countess at
+last--"are you not?"
+
+"Certainly, Countess," replied the girl, evidently surprised that she
+needed to give the assurance.
+
+"You know what unhappiness means?"
+
+"I think so!" said Josepha, with bitter emphasis.
+
+"Then you would aid the unhappy so far as you were able?"
+
+"It would depend upon who it was," answered Josepha, brusquely, but the
+rudeness pleased the countess; it was a proof of character, and
+character is a guarantee of trustworthiness. "If it were I, Josepha,
+could I depend upon you in _any_ situation?"
+
+"Certainly!" the girl answered simply--"I live only for you--otherwise
+I would far rather be under the sod. What have I to live for except
+you?"
+
+"I believe, Josepha, that I now know the reason Providence sent me to
+you!" murmured her mistress, lost in thought.
+
+Ludwig Gross entered. "Did you wish to see me?"
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau silently took his hand and drew him into her
+room.
+
+"Oh, Ludwig, what things I have been compelled to hear--what sins I
+have committed--what suffering I have endured!" She laid her arm on the
+shoulder of the faithful friend, like a child pleading for aid. "What
+time is it, Ludwig?"
+
+"I don't know," he replied. "I was asleep when my father called me. I
+wandered about looking for you and Freyer until about an hour ago. Then
+weariness overpowered me." He drew out his watch. "It is half past
+ten."
+
+"Take me to Freyer, Ludwig. I must see him this very day. Oh, my
+friend! let me wash myself clean in your soul, for I feel as if the
+turbid surges of the world had soiled me with their mire."
+
+Ludwig Gross passed his arm lightly about her shoulders as if to
+protect her from the unclean element. "Come," he said soothingly, "I
+will take you to Freyer. Or would you prefer to have me bring him
+here?"
+
+"No, he would not come now. I must go to him, for I have done something
+for which I must atone--there can be no delay."
+
+Ludwig hurriedly wrapped her in a warm shawl. "You will be ill from
+this continual excitement," he said anxiously, but without trying to
+dissuade her. "Take my arm, you are tottering."
+
+They left the house before the eyes of the astonished Gross family.
+"She is a very singular woman," said Sephi, shaking her head. "She
+gives herself no rest night or day."
+
+It was only five days since the evening that Madeleine von Wildenau had
+walked, as now, through the sleeping village, and how much she had
+experienced.
+
+She had found the God whom she was seeking--she had gazed into his
+eyes, she had recognized divine, eternal love, and had perceived that
+she was not worthy of it. So she moved proudly, yet humbly on, leaning
+upon the arm of her friend, to the street where a thrill of reverence
+had stirred her whole being when Andreas Gross said, "That is the way
+to the dwelling of the Christ."
+
+The house stood across the end of the street. This time no moonbeams
+lighted the way. The damp branches of the trees rustled mournfully
+above them in the darkness. Only a single window on the ground floor of
+Freyer's house was lighted, and the wavering rays marked the way for
+the pair. They reached it and looked in. Freyer was sitting on a wooden
+stool by the table, his head resting on his hand, absorbed in sorrowful
+thought. A book lay before him, which he had perhaps intended to read,
+but evidently had not done so, for he was gazing wearily into vacancy.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau stepped softly in through the unfastened door.
+Ludwig Gross waited for her outside. As she opened the door of the room
+Freyer looked up in astonishment "You?" he said, and his eyes rested
+full upon her with a questioning gaze--but he rose with dignity,
+instead of rushing to meet her, as he would formerly have greeted the
+woman he loved, had she suddenly appeared before him.
+
+"Countess--what does this visit mean--at this hour?" he asked,
+mournfully, offering her a chair. "Did you come alone?"
+
+"Ludwig brought me and is waiting outside for me--I have only a few
+words to say."
+
+"But it will not do to leave our friend standing outside. You will
+allow me to call him in?"
+
+"Do so, you will then have the satisfaction of having a witness of my
+humiliation," said the countess, quietly.
+
+"Pardon me, I did not think of that interpretation!" murmured Freyer,
+seating himself.
+
+"May I ask your Highness' commands?"
+
+"Joseph--to whom are you speaking?"
+
+"To the Countess Wildenau!"
+
+She knelt beside him: "Joseph! Am I _still_ the Countess Wildenau?"
+
+"Your Highness, pray spare me!" he exclaimed, starting up. "All this
+can alter nothing. You remain--what you are, and I--what I am! This was
+deeply graven on my heart to-night, and nothing can efface it." He
+spoke with neither anger nor reproach--simply like a man who has lost
+what was dearest to him on earth.
+
+"If that is true, I can certainly do nothing except go again!" she
+replied, turning toward the door. "But answer for it to God for having
+thrust me forth unheard."
+
+"Nay, Countess, pray, speak!" said Freyer, kindly. She looked
+at him so beseechingly that his heart melted with unutterable pain.
+"Come--and--tell me what weighs upon your heart!" he added in a gentler
+tone.
+
+"Not until you again call me your dove--or your child."
+
+Tears filled his eyes, "My child--what have you done!"
+
+"That is right--I can speak now! What have I done, Joseph? What you
+saw; and still worse. I not only treated you coldly and distantly in my
+father's presence, I afterwards disowned you three times--and I come to
+tell you so because you alone can and--I know--will forgive me."
+
+Freyer had clasped his hands upon his knee and was gazing into vacancy.
+Madeleine continued: "You see, I have so lofty an opinion of you, and
+of your love, that I do not try to justify myself. I will only remind
+you of the words you yourself said to-day: 'May you never be forced to
+weep the tears which Peter shed when the cock crowed for the third
+time.' I will recall what must have induced Christ to forgive Peter:
+'He knew the disciple's heart!' Joseph--do you not also know the heart
+of your Magdalena?"
+
+A tremor ran through the strong man's frame and, unable to utter a
+word, he threw his arm around her and his head drooped on her breast.
+
+"Joseph, you are ignorant of the world, and the bonds with which it
+fetters even the freest souls. Therefore you must _believe_ in me! It
+will often happen that I shall be forced to do something
+incomprehensible to you. If you did not then have implicit faith in me,
+we could never live happily together. This very day I had resolved to
+break with society, strip off all its chains. But no matter how many
+false and culpable ideas it has--its principles, nevertheless, rest
+upon a foundation of morality. That is why it can impose its fetters
+upon the very persons who have nothing in common with its _immoral_
+side. Nay, were it merely an _immoral_ power it would be easy, in a
+moment of pious enthusiasm, to shake off its thrall--but when we are
+just on the eve of doing so, when we believe ourselves actually free,
+it throws around our feet the snare of a _duty_ and we are prisoned
+anew. Such was my experience to-day with my father! I should have been
+compelled to sunder every tie, had I told him the truth! I was too weak
+to provoke the terrible catastrophe--and deferred it, by disowning
+you."
+
+Freyer quivered with pain.
+
+She stroked his clenched hand caressingly. "I know what this must be. I
+know how the proud man must rebel when the woman he loved did _that_.
+But I also expect my angel to know what it cost me!"
+
+She gently tried to loose his clenched fingers, which gradually yielded
+till the open hand lay soft and unresisting in her own. "Look at me,"
+she continued in her sweet, melting tones: "look at my pallid face, my
+eyes reddened with weeping--and then answer whether I have suffered
+during these hours?"
+
+"I do see it!" said Freyer, gently.
+
+"Dear husband! I come to you with my great need, with my great
+love--and my great guilt. Will you thrust me from you?"
+
+He could hold out no longer, but with loving generosity clasped the
+pleading woman to his heart.
+
+"I knew it, you are the embodiment of goodness, gentleness--love! You
+will have patience with your weak, sinful wife--you will ennoble and
+sanctify her, and not despair if it is a long time ere the work is
+completed. You promise, do you not?" she murmured fervently amid her
+kisses, breathing into his inmost life the ardent pleading of her
+remorse.
+
+And, with a solemn vow, he promised never to be angry with her again,
+never to desert her until she _herself_ sent him away.
+
+She had conquered--he trusted her once more. And now--she must profit
+by this childlike confidence.
+
+"I thank you!" she said, after a long silence. "Now I shall have
+courage to ask you a serious question. But let us send home the friend
+who is waiting outside, you can take me back yourself."
+
+"Certainly, my child," said Freyer, smiling, and went out to seek
+Ludwig. "He was satisfied," he said returning. "Now speak--and tell me
+everything that weighs upon your heart--no one can hear us save God."
+And he drew her into a loving embrace.
+
+"Joseph," the countess began in an embarrassed tone. "The decisive hour
+has come sooner than I expected and I am compelled to ask, 'Will you be
+my husband--but only before God, not men.'"
+
+Freyer drew back a step. "What do you mean?"
+
+"Will you listen to me quietly, dearest?" she asked, gently.
+
+"Speak, my child."
+
+"Joseph! I promised to-day to become your wife--and I will keep the
+pledge, but our marriage must be a secret one."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"My husband's will disinherits me, as soon as I give up the name of
+Wildenau. If I marry you, I shall be dependent upon the generosity of
+my husband's cousins, who succeed me as his heirs, and they are not
+even obliged to give me an annuity--so I shall be little better than a
+beggar."
+
+"Oh, is that all? What does it matter? Am I not able to support my
+wife--that is, if she can be satisfied with the modest livelihood a
+poor wood-carver like myself can offer?"
+
+The countess, deeply touched, smiled. "I knew that you would say so.
+But, my angel, that would only do, if I had no other duties. But, you
+see, this is one of the snares with which the world draws back those
+who endeavor to escape its spell. I have a father--an unhappy man whom
+I can neither respect nor love--a type of the brilliant misery, the
+hollow shams, to which so many lives in our circle fall victims, a
+gambler, a spendthrift, but still _my father_! He asks pecuniary aid
+which I can render only if I remain the Countess Wildenau. Dare I be
+happy and let my father go to ruin?"
+
+"No!" groaned Freyer, whose head sank like a felled tree on the arms
+which rested folded on the table.
+
+"Then what is left to us--my beloved, save _separation_ or a secret
+marriage? Surely we would not profane the miracle which God has wrought
+in us by any other course?"
+
+"No--never!"
+
+"Well--then I must say to you: 'choose!'"
+
+"Oh, Heaven! this is terrible. I must not be allowed to assert my
+sacred rights before men--must live like a dishonored man under ban?
+And _where_ and _when_ could we meet?"
+
+"Joseph--I can offer you the position of steward of my estates, which
+will enable us to live together constantly and meet without the least
+restraint. I can recompense you a hundredfold, for what you resign
+here, my property shall be yours, as well as all that I am and
+have--you shall miss nothing save outward appearances, the triumph of
+appearing before the world as the husband of the Countess Wildenau."
+
+"Oh! God, Thou art my witness that no such thought ever entered my
+heart. If you were poor and miserable, starving by the wayside, I would
+raise you and bear you proudly in my arms into my house. If you were
+blind and lame, ill and deserted, I would watch and cherish you day and
+night--nay, it would be my delight to work for you and earn, by my own
+industry, the bread you eat. When I brought it, I would offer it on my
+knees and kiss your dear hands for accepting it. But your servant, your
+hireling, I cannot be! Tell me yourself--could you still love me if I
+were?"
+
+"Yes, for my love is eternal!"
+
+"Do not deceive yourself; you have loved me as a poor, but _free_
+citizen of Ammergau--as your paid servant you would despise me."
+
+"You shall not be my servant--it is merely necessary to find some
+pretext before the world which will render it possible for us to be
+constantly together without exciting suspicion--and the office of a
+steward is this pretext!"
+
+"Twist and turn it as you will--I shall eat your bread, and be your
+subordinate. Oh, Heaven, I was so proud and am now so terribly
+humiliated--so suddenly hurled from the height to which you had raised
+me!"
+
+"It will be no humiliation to accept what my love bestows and my
+superabundance shares with you."
+
+"It _is_, and I could be your husband only on the condition that I
+might continue to work and earn my own support."
+
+"Oh! the envious arrogance of the poor, who grudge the rich the noblest
+privilege--that of doing good. Believe me, true pride would be to say
+to yourself that your noble nature a thousand times outweighed the
+petty sacrifice of worldly goods which I could make for you. He who
+scorns money can accept it from others because he knows that the
+outward gift is valueless, compared with the treasures of happiness
+love can offer. Or do you feel so poor in love that you could not pay
+me the trivial debt for the bit of bread I furnished? Then indeed--let
+me with my wealth languish in my dearth of happiness and boast that you
+sacrificed to your pride the most faithful of women--but do not say
+that you loved the woman!"
+
+"My dove!"
+
+"I am doing what I can!" she continued, mournfully, "I am offering you
+myself, my soul, my freedom, my future--and you are considering whether
+it will not degrade you to eat my bread and be apparently my servant,
+while in reality you are my master and my judge.--I have nothing more
+to say, you shall have your will, but decide quickly, for what is to be
+done must be done at once. My father himself (when he perceived that I
+really intended to marry) advised me to be wedded by our old pastor at
+Prankenberg. But I know my father, and am aware that he was only luring
+me into a trap. He will receive from me to-morrow a power of attorney
+to raise some money he needs--the day after he will invent some new
+device to keep me in his power. We must take the pastor at Prankenberg
+by surprise before he can prevent it. Now decide!"
+
+"Omnipotent God!" exclaimed Freyer. "What shall I, what must I do? Oh!
+my love, I ought not to desert you--and even if I ought--I _could_ not,
+for I could no longer live without you! You know that I must take what
+you offer, and that my fate will be what you assign! But, dearest, how
+I shall endure to be your husband and yet regarded as your servant, I
+know not. If you could let this cup pass from me, it would be far
+better for us both."
+
+"And did God spare the Saviour the cup? Was Christ too proud to take
+upon Him His cross and His ignominy, while you--cannot even bear the
+yoke your wife imposes, is _forced_ to impose?"
+
+He bowed his head to the earth. Tears sparkled in his radiant eyes, he
+was once more the Christ. As his dark eyes rested upon her in the dim
+light diffused by the lamp, with all the anguish of the Crucified
+Redeemer, Madeleine von Wildenau again felt a thrill of awe in the
+presence of something supernatural--a creature belonging to some middle
+realm, half spirit, half mortal--and the perception that he could never
+belong wholly to the earth, never wholly to _her_. She could not
+explain this feeling, he was so kind, so self-sacrificing. Had she had
+any idea that such a man was destined to absorb _us_, not we _him_, the
+mystery would have been solved. What she was doing was precisely the
+reverse. His existence must be sacrificed to hers--and she had a vague
+suspicion that this was contrary to the laws of his noble, privileged
+nature.
+
+But he, unconscious of himself, in his modest simplicity, only knew
+that he must love the countess to the end--and deemed it only just that
+he should purchase the measureless happiness of calling this woman his
+by an equally boundless sacrifice. The appeal to Christ had suddenly
+made him believe that God proposed to give him the opportunity to
+continue in life the part of a martyr which he was no longer permitted
+to play on the stage. The terrible humiliation imposed by the woman
+whom he loved was to be the cross received in exchange for the one he
+had resigned.
+
+"Very well, then, for the sake of Christ's humility!" he said, sadly,
+as if utterly crushed. "Give me whatever position you choose, but I
+fear you will discover too late that you have robbed yourself of the
+_best_ love I have to bestow. Your nature is not one which can love a
+vassal. You will be like the children who tear off the butterfly's
+wings and then--throw aside the crawling worm with loathing. My wings
+were my moral freedom and my self-respect. At this moment I have lost
+them, for I am only a weak, love-sick man who must do whatever an
+irresistible woman requires. It is no free moral act, as is usual when
+a man exchanges an equal existence with his chosen wife.
+
+"If you think _that_, Joseph," said the countess, turning pale, "it
+will certainly be better--for me to leave you." She turned with dignity
+toward the door.
+
+"Yes, go!" he cried in wild anguish--"go! Yet you know that you will
+take me with you, like the crown of thorns you dragged caught in the
+hem of your dress!" He threw himself on his knees at her feet. "What am
+I? Your slave. In Heaven's name, be my mistress and take me. I place my
+soul in your keeping--I trust it to your generosity--but woe betide us
+both, if you do not give me yours in return. I ask nothing save your
+soul--but that I want wholly."
+
+The exultant woman clasped him in a passionate embrace: "Yes, give
+yourself a prisoner to me, and trust your fate to my hands. I will be a
+gentle mistress to you--you, beloved slave, you shall not be _more_
+mine than I am yours--that is, _wholly_ and _forever_."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII.
+
+                         FLYING FROM THE CROSS.
+
+
+The burgomaster went to the office every morning at six o'clock, for
+the work to be accomplished during the day was very great and required
+an early beginning. Freyer usually arrived about seven to share the
+task with him. On Fridays, however, he often commenced his labor before
+the energetic burgomaster. It was on that day that the rush upon the
+ticket office began, and every one's hands were filled.
+
+But to-day Freyer seemed to be in no hurry. It was after seven--he
+ought to have arrived long before. He had been absent yesterday, too.
+The stranger must have taken complete possession of him. The
+burgomaster shook his head--Freyer's conduct since the countess'
+arrival, had not pleased him. He had never neglected his duties
+to the community. And at the very time when the Passion Play had
+attained unprecedented success. How could any one think of anything
+else--anything _personal_, especially the man who took the part of the
+Christ! There were heaps of orders lying piled before him, how could
+they be disposed of, if Freyer did not help.
+
+This countess was a beautiful woman--and probably a fascinating one.
+But to the burgomaster there was but _one_ beauty--that of the angel of
+his home. High above the turmoil of the crowd, in quiet, aristocratic
+seclusion, the lonely man sat at his desk in his bare, plain office.
+But the angel of Ammergau visited him here; he leaned his weary head
+upon His breast, _His_ kiss rewarded his unselfish labor, _His_
+radiance illumined the unassuming citizen. No house was so poor and
+insignificant that at this season the angel of Ammergau did not take up
+His abode within and shed upon it His own sanctity and dignity. But to
+him who was the personification of Ammergau, the man who was obliged to
+care for everything--watch over everything--bear the responsibility
+of everything, to him the angel brought the reward which men cannot
+give--the proud consciousness of what he was to his home in these
+toilsome days. But it was quite time that Freyer should come! The
+burgomaster rang his bell. The bailiff entered.
+
+"Kleinhofer, see where Herr Freyer is--or the drawing-master. _One_ of
+them can surely be found."
+
+"Yes, Herr Burgomaster." The man left the room.
+
+The burgomaster leaned back in his chair to wait. His eyes rested a few
+seconds on one of Doré's pictures, Christ condemned by Pontius Pilate.
+He involuntarily compared the engraving with the grouping on the stage.
+"Ah, if we could do that! If living beings, with massive bones and
+clumsy joints, would be as pliable as canvas and brushes!" he thought,
+sorrowfully. "Wherever human beings are employed there must be defects
+and imperfections. Perfection, absolute beauty, exist only in the
+imagination! Yet ought not an inflexible stage manager, by following
+the lines of the work of art, to succeed in shaping even the rudest
+material into the artistic idea."
+
+"Much--much remains to be done," said the singular stage manager in
+pitiless self-criticism, resting his head on his hand. "When one thinks
+of what the Meininger company accomplishes! But of course they work
+with _artists_--I with natural talent! Then we are restricted in
+alloting the parts by dilettante traditional models--and, worst of all,
+by antiquated statutes and prejudices." The vision of Josepha Freyer
+rose before him, he keenly felt the blow inflicted on the Passion Play
+when the beautiful girl, the very type of Mary Magdalene, was excluded.
+"The whole must suffer under such circumstances! The actors cannot be
+chosen according to talent and individuality; these things are a
+secondary consideration. The first is the person's standing in the
+community! A poor servant would be allowed to play only an inferior
+part, even if he possessed the greatest talent, and the principal ones
+are the monopoly of the influential citizens. From a contingent thus
+arbitrarily limited the manager is compelled to distribute the
+characters for the great work, which demands the highest powers. It is
+a gigantic labor, but it will be accomplished, nothing is needed save
+patience and an iron will! They will grow with their task. The
+increasing success of the Passion Play will teach them to understand
+how important it is that artistic interests should supersede all
+others. Then golden hours will first dawn on Ammergau. May God permit
+me to witness it!" he added. And he confidently hoped to do so; for
+there was no lack of talent, and with a few additions great results
+might be accomplished. This year the success of the Play was secured by
+Freyer, who made the audience forget all less skilful performers. With
+him the Passion Play of the present year would stand or fall. The
+burgomaster's eyes rested with a look of compassion upon the Christ of
+Doré and the Christ personated by Freyer, as it hovered before his
+memory--and Freyer bore the test. He had come from the hand of his
+Creator a living work of art, perfect in every detail. "Thank Heaven
+that we have him!" murmured the burgomaster, with a nod of
+satisfaction.
+
+Some one knocked at the door. "At last," said the burgomaster: "Come
+in!"
+
+It was not the person whom he expected, but Ludwig Gross!
+
+He tottered forward as if his feet refused to obey his will. His grave
+face was waxen-yellow in its hue and deeply lined--his lips were
+tightly compressed--drops of perspiration glittered on his brow.
+
+The burgomaster glanced at him in alarm: "What is it? What has
+happened?"
+
+Ludwig Gross drew a letter from his pocket, "Be prepared for bad news."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, cannot the performance take place? We have sold
+more than a thousand tickets."
+
+"That would be the least difficulty. Be strong, Herr Burgomaster--I
+have a great misfortune to announce."
+
+"Has it anything to do with Freyer?" exclaimed the magistrate, with
+sudden foreboding.
+
+"Freyer has gone--with Countess Wildenau!"
+
+"Run away?" cried the burgomaster, inexorably giving the act the right
+name.
+
+"Yes, I have just found these lines on his table."
+
+The burgomaster turned pale as if he had received a mortal wound. A
+peal of thunder seemed to echo in his ears--the thunder which had
+shattered the temple of Jerusalem, whose priest he was! The walls fell,
+the veil was rent and revealed the place of execution. Golgotha lay
+before him. He heard the rustling wings of the departing guardian angel
+of Ammergau. High above, in terrible solitude, towered the cross, but
+it was empty--he who should hang upon it--had vanished! Grey clouds
+gathered around the desolate scene.
+
+But from the empty cross issued a light--not a halo, but like the
+livid, phosphorescent glimmer of rotten wood! It shone into a chasm
+where, from a jutting rock, towered a single tree, upon which hung,
+faithful to his task--Judas!
+
+A peal of jeering laughter rose from the depths. "You have killed
+yourself in vain. Your victim has escaped. See the conscientious Judas,
+who hung himself, while the other is having a life of pleasure!"
+
+Shame and disgrace! "The Christ has fled from the cross." Malicious
+voices echo far and wide, cynicism exults--baseness has conquered, the
+divine has become a laughing-stock for children--the Passion Play a
+travesty.
+
+The phosphorescent wood of the cross glimmered before the burgomaster's
+eyes. Aye, it was rotten and mouldering--this cross--it must
+crumble--the corruption of the world had infected and undermined it,
+and this had happened in Oberammergau--under _his_ management.
+
+The unfortunate man, through whose brain this chain of thoughts was
+whirling, sat like a stone statue before his friend, who stood waiting
+modestly, without disturbing his grief by a single word.
+
+What the two men felt--each knew--was too great for utterance.
+
+The burgomaster was mechanically holding Freyer's letter in his
+clenched hand. Now his cold, stiff fingers reminded him of it. He laid
+it on the table, his eyes resting dully on the large childish
+characters of the unformed hand: "Forgive me!" ran the brief contents.
+"I am no longer worthy to personate the Saviour! Not from lack of
+principle, but on account of it do I resign my part. Ere you read these
+lines, I shall be far away from here! God will not make His sacred
+cause depend upon any individual--He will supply my place to you!
+Forget me, and forgive the renegade whose heart will be faithful to you
+unto death!                                     Freyer!"
+
+Postscript:
+
+"Sell my property--the house, the field, and patch of woods which was
+not burned and divide the proceeds among the poor of Ammergau. I will
+send you the legal authority from the nearest city.
+
+"Once more, farewell to all!"
+
+The burgomaster sat motionless, gazing at the sheet. He could have read
+it ten times over--yet he still stared at the lines.
+
+Ludwig Gross saw with terror that his eyes were glassy, his features
+changed. The calmness imposed by the iron will had become the rigidity
+of death. The drawing-master shook him--now, in the altered position,
+the inert body lost its balance and fell against the back of the chair.
+His friend caught the tottering figure and supported the noble head. It
+was possible for him to reach the bell with his other hand and summon
+Kleinhofer. "The doctor--quick--tell him to come at once!" he shouted.
+The man hurried off in terror.
+
+The news that the burgomaster had been stricken with apoplexy ran
+through the village like wild fire. Every one rushed to the office. The
+physician ran bare-headed across the street. The confusion was
+boundless.
+
+Ludwig could scarcely control the tumult. Supporting the burgomaster
+with one arm, he pushed the throng back with the other. The doctor
+could scarcely force his way through the crowded room. He rubbed the
+temples and arteries of the senseless man. "I don't think it is
+apoplexy, only a severe congestion of the brain," he said, "but we
+cannot tell what the result may be. He has long been overworked and
+over-excited."
+
+The remedies applied began to act, the burgomaster opened his eyes. But
+as if he were surrounded by invisible fiends which, like wild beasts,
+were only held in check by the firm gaze of the tamer and, ever ready
+to spring, were only watching for the moment when they might wrest from
+him the sacred treasure confided to his care--his dim eyes in a few
+seconds regained the steady flash of the watchful, imperious master.
+And the discipline which his unyielding will was wont to exert over his
+limbs instantly restored his erect bearing. No one save the physician
+and Ludwig knew what the effort cost him.
+
+"Yes," said the doctor in a low tone to the drawing-master: "This is
+the consequence of his never granting himself any rest during these
+terrible exertions."
+
+The burgomaster had gone to the window and obtained a little air. Then
+he turned to the by-standers. His voice still trembled slightly, but
+otherwise not the slightest weakness was perceptible, and nothing
+betrayed the least emotion.
+
+"I am glad, my friends, that we are all assembled--otherwise I should
+have been compelled to summon you. Is the whole parish here? We must
+hold a consultation at once. Kleinhofer, count them."
+
+The man obeyed.
+
+"They are all here," he said.
+
+At that moment the burgomaster's wife rushed in with Anastasia. They
+had been in the fields and had just learned the startling news of the
+illness of the husband and brother.
+
+"Pray be calm!" he said, sternly. "There is nothing wrong with
+me--nothing worth mentioning."
+
+The weeping women were surrounded by their friends but the burgomaster,
+with an imperious wave of the hand, motioned them to the back of the
+room. "If you wish to listen--and it is my desire that you should--keep
+quiet. We have not a moment to lose." He turned to the men of the
+parish.
+
+"Dear friends and companions! I have tidings which I should never have
+expected a native of Ammergau would be compelled to relate of a fellow
+citizen. A great misfortune has befallen us. We no longer have a
+Christ! Freyer has suddenly gone away."
+
+A cry of horror and indignation answered him. A medley of shouts and
+questions followed, mingled with fierce imprecations.
+
+"Be calm, friends. Do not revile him. We do not know what has occurred.
+True, I cannot understand how such a thing was possible--but we must
+not judge where we know no particulars. At any rate we will respect
+ourselves by speaking no evil of one of our fellow citizens--for that he
+was, in spite of his act."
+
+Ludwig secretly pressed his hand in token of gratitude.
+
+"This misfortune is sent by God"--the burgomaster continued--"we will
+not judge the poor mortal who was merely His tool. Regard him as one
+dead, as he seems to regard himself. He has bequeathed his property to
+our poor--we will thank him for that, as is right--in other respects he
+is dead to us."
+
+The burgomaster took the letter from the table. "Here is his last will
+for Ammergau, I will read it to you." The burgomaster calmly read the
+paper, but it seemed as if his voice, usually so firm, trembled.
+
+When he had finished, deep silence reigned. Many were wiping their
+eyes, others gazed sullenly into vacancy--a solemn hush, like that
+which prevails at a funeral, had taken possession of the assembly. "We
+cannot tell," the burgomaster repeated: "Peace to his ashes--for the
+fire which will be so destructive to us is still blazing in him. We can
+but say, may God forgive him, and let these be the last words uttered
+concerning him."
+
+"May God forgive him!" murmured the sorely stricken assemblage.
+
+"Amen!" replied the burgomaster. "And now, my friends, let us consult
+what is to be done. We cannot deceive ourselves concerning our
+situation. It is critical, nay hopeless. The first thing we must try to
+save is our honor. When it becomes known that one of our number, and
+that one the Christ--has deserted his colors, or rather the cross, we
+shall be disgraced and our sacred cause must suffer. _Our_ honor here
+is synonymous with the honor of God, and if we do not guard it for
+ourselves we must for His sake."
+
+A murmur of assent answered him. He continued: "Therefore we must make
+every effort to keep the matter secret. We can say that Freyer had
+suddenly succumbed to the exertion imposed by his part, and to save his
+life had been obliged to seek a warmer climate! Those who _know_ us men
+of Ammergau will not believe that any one would retire on account of
+his health, nay would prefer death rather than to interrupt the
+performances--but there are few who do know us."
+
+"God knows that!" said the listeners, mournfully.
+
+"Therefore I propose that we all promise to maintain the most absolute
+secrecy in regard to the real state of affairs and give the pretext
+just suggested to the public."
+
+"Yes, yes--we will agree not to say anything else," the men readily
+assented. "But the women--they will chatter," said Andreas Gross.
+
+"That is just what I fear. I can rely upon you men," replied the
+burgomaster, casting a stern glance at the girls and women. "The men
+are fully aware of the meaning and importance of our cause. It is bad
+enough that so many are not understood and supported by their wives!
+You--the women of Ammergau--alas that I must say it--you have done the
+place and the cause more harm by your gossip than you can answer for to
+the God who honors us with His holy mission. There is chattering and
+tattling where you think you can do so unpunished, and many things are
+whispered into the ears of the visitors which afterwards goes as false
+rumors through the world! You care nothing for the great cause, if you
+get an opportunity to gratify some bit of petty malice. Now you are
+weeping, are you not? Because we are ruined--the performances must
+cease! But are you sure that Joseph Freyer would have been capable of
+treating us in this way, had it not been for the flood of gossip you
+poured out on him and his cousin, Josepha? It embittered his mind
+against us and drove him into the stranger's arms. Has he not said a
+hundred times that, if it were not for personating the Christ, he would
+have left Ammergau long ago? Where _one_ bond is destroyed another
+tears all the more easily. Take it as a lesson--and keep silence _this_
+time at least, if you can govern your feminine weakness so far! I shall
+make your husbands accountable for every word which escapes concerning
+this matter." Several of the women murmured and cast spiteful glances
+at the burgomaster.
+
+"To _whom_ does this refer, _who_ is said to have tattled?" asked a
+stout woman with a bold face.
+
+The burgomaster frowned. "It refers to those who feel guilty--and does
+not concern those who do not!" he cried, sternly. "The good silent
+women among you know very well that I do not mean them--and the others
+can take heed."
+
+A painful pause followed. The burgomaster's eyes rested threateningly
+upon the angry faces of the culprits. Those who felt that they were
+innocent gazed at him undisturbed.
+
+"I will answer for my wife"--"Nothing shall go from my house!"
+protested one after another, and thus at least every effort would be
+made to save the honor of Ammergau, and conceal their disgrace from the
+world. But now came the question how to save the Play. A warm debate
+followed. The people, thus robbed of their hopes, wished to continue
+the performances at any cost, with any cast of characters. But here
+they encountered the resolute opposition of the burgomaster: "Either
+well--or not at all!" was his ultimatum. "We cannot deceive ourselves
+for a moment. At present, there is not one of us who can personate the
+Christ--except Thomas Rendner, and where, in that case, could we find a
+Pilate--who could replace Thomas Rendner?"
+
+There was a violent discussion. "The sacristan, Nathanael, could play
+Pilate."
+
+"Who then would take Nathanael?"
+
+"Ah, if this one and that one were still in the village! But they had
+gone away to seek their bread, like so many who could no longer earn a
+support since the Partenkirch School of Carving had competed with the
+one in Ammergau. And many more would follow. If things went on in the
+same fashion, and matters were not improved by the play, in ten years
+more there might be none to fill the parts, necessity would gradually
+drive every one away."
+
+"Yes, we are in a sore strait, my friends. The company melts away more
+and more--the danger to the Passion Play constantly increases. If we
+can find no help now, penury will deprive us of some of our best
+performers ere the next time. And yet, my friends, believe me--I
+say it with a heavy heart: if we now continue with a poor cast of
+characters--we shall be lost wholly and forever, for then we shall have
+destroyed the reputation of the Passion Play."
+
+"Thomas Rendner will personate the Christ well--there is no danger on
+that score."
+
+"And if he does--if Rendner takes the Christ, the sacristan Pilate, and
+some one else Nathanael--shall we not be obliged to study the whole
+piece again, and can that be done so rapidly? Can we commence our
+rehearsals afresh now? I ask you, is it possible?"
+
+The people hung their heads in hopeless discouragement.
+
+"Our sole resource would be to find a Christ among those who are not in
+the Play--and all who have talent are already employed. The others
+cannot be used, if we desire to present an artistic whole."
+
+Despair seized upon the listeners--there was not a single one among
+them who had not invested his little all in furniture and beds for the
+strangers, and even incurred debts for the purpose, to say nothing of
+the universal poverty.
+
+New proposals were made, all of which the hapless burgomaster was
+compelled to reject.
+
+"The general welfare is at a stake, and the burgomaster thinks only of
+the _artistic whole_."
+
+With these words the wrath of the assembly was finally all directed
+against him, and those who fanned it were mainly the strangers
+attracted by the Passion Play for purposes of speculation, who cared
+nothing how much it suffered in future, if only they made their money!
+
+"I know the elements which are stirring up strife here," said the
+burgomaster, scanning the assembly with his stern eyes. "But they shall
+not succeed in separating us old citizens of Ammergau, who have held
+together through every calamity! Friends, let the spirit which our
+forefathers have preserved for centuries save us from discord--let us
+not deny the good old Ammergau nature in misfortune."
+
+"And with the good old nature you can starve," muttered the
+speculators.
+
+"If the burgomaster does not consider your interests of more importance
+than the fame of his success as stage manager he ought to go to Munich
+and get the position--there he could give as many model performances as
+he desired!"
+
+"Yes," cried another, "he is sacrificing our interests to his own
+vanity."
+
+During this accusation the burgomaster remained standing with his
+figure drawn up to its full height. Only the dark swollen vein on his
+weary brow betrayed the indignation seething in his soul.
+
+"I disdain to make any reply to such a charge. I know the hearts of my
+fellow citizens too well to fear that any one of them believes it."
+
+"No, certainly not!" exclaimed the wiser ones. But the majority were
+silent in their wrathful despair.
+
+"I know that many of you misjudge me, and I bear you no resentment for
+it. I admit that in such a period of storm and stress it is difficult
+to maintain an unprejudiced judgment.
+
+"I know also that I myself have often bewildered your judgment, for it
+is impossible to create such a work without giving offense here and
+there. I know that many who feel wounded and slighted secretly resent
+it, and I do not blame them! Only I beg you to visit the rancor on me
+_personally_--not extend it to the cause and injure that out of
+opposition to me. In important moments like these, I beg you to let all
+private grudges drop and gather around me--in this one decisive hour
+think only of the whole community, and not of all the wrongs the
+burgomaster may have done you individually.
+
+"If I had only the interest of Ammergau to guard, all would be well!
+But I have not only _your_ welfare to protect, but the dignity of a
+cause for which I am responsible to _God_--so long as it remains in my
+hands. Human nature is weak and subject to external impressions. The
+religious conceptions of thousands depend upon the greater or less
+powerful illusion produced by the Passion Play as a moral symbol. This
+is a heavy responsibility in a time when negation and materialism are
+constantly undermining faith and dragging everything sacred in the
+dust. In such a period, the utmost perfection of detail is necessary,
+that the _form_ at least may command respect, where the _essence_ is
+despised. I will try to make this dear to you by an example. The cynic
+who sneers at our worship of Mary and, with satirical satisfaction,
+paints the Virgin as the corpulent mother of four or five boys, will
+laugh at an Altötting Virgin but grow silent and earnest before a
+Sistine Madonna! For here the divinity in which he does not wish to
+believe confronts him in the work of art and compels his reverence. It
+is precisely in a period of materialism like the present that religious
+representation has its most grateful task--for the deeper man sinks
+into sensualism, the more accessible he is to sensual impressions, and
+the more easily religion can influence him through visible forms,
+repelling or attracting according to the defective or artistic
+treatment of the material. The religious-sensuous impetus is the only
+one which can influence times like these, that is why the Passion Play
+is more important now than ever!
+
+"God has bestowed upon me the modest talent of organization and a
+little artistic culture, that I may watch over it, and see that those
+who come to us trustfully to seek their God, do not go away with
+a secret disappointment--and that those who come to _laugh_ may be
+quiet--and ashamed.
+
+"This is the great task allotted to me, which I have hitherto executed
+without regard for personal irritability, and the injury of petty
+individual interests, and hope to accomplish even under stress of the
+most dire necessity.
+
+"If you wish to oppose it, you should have given the office I occupy to
+some one who thinks the task less lofty, and who is complaisant enough
+to sacrifice the noble to the petty. But see where you will end with
+the complaisant man, who listens to every one. See how soon anarchy
+will enter among you, for where individual guidance is lacking, and
+every one can assert his will, the seed of discord shoots up,
+overgrowing everything. Now you are all against _me_, but then you will
+be against _one another_, and while you are quarreling and disputing,
+time will pass unused, and at last the first antiquated model will be
+seized because it can be most easily and quickly executed. But the
+modern world will turn away with a derisive laugh, saying: 'We can't
+look at these peasant farces any more.'
+
+"Then answer for robbing thousands of a beautiful illusion and letting
+them return home poorer in faith and reverence than they came--answer
+for it to God, whose sublime task you have degraded by an inferior
+performance, and lastly to yourselves for forgetting the future in the
+present gain, and to profit by the Passion Play a few more times now,
+ruin it for future decades. You do not believe it because, in this
+secluded village, you cannot know what the taste of our times demands.
+But I do, for I have lived in the outside world, and I tell you that
+whoever sees these incomplete performances will certainly not return,
+and will make us a reputation stamping us as bunglers forever!"
+
+The burgomaster pressed his hand to his head; a keen pang was piercing
+his brain--and his heart also.
+
+"I have nothing more to add," he concluded, faintly. "But if you know
+any one whom you believe could care for Ammergau better than I--I am
+ready at any moment to place my office in his hands."
+
+Then, with one accord, every heart swelled with the old lofty feeling
+for the sacred cause of their ancestors and grateful appreciation of
+the man who had again roused it in them. No, he did not deserve that
+they should doubt him--he had again taught them to think like true
+natives of Ammergau, aye, they felt proudly that he was of the true
+stock--it was Ammergau blood that flowed in his veins and streamed from
+the wounds which had been inflicted on his heart that day! They saw
+that they had wronged him and they gathered with their old love and
+loyalty around the sorely-beset man, ready to atone with their lives,
+for these hot-blooded, easily influenced artist-natures were
+nevertheless true to the core.
+
+The malcontents were forced to keep silence, no one listened to
+them. All flocked around the burgomaster. "We will stand by you.
+Burgomaster--only tell us what we are to do--and how we can help
+ourselves. We rely wholly upon you."
+
+"Alas! my friends, I must reward your restored confidence with
+unpalatable counsel. Let us bear the misfortune like men! It is
+better to fell trees in the forest, go out as day laborers--nay,
+_starve_--rather than be faithless to the spirit of our ancestors! Am I
+not right?" A storm of enthusiasm answered him.
+
+It was resolved to announce the close of the Passion Play for this
+decade. The document was signed by all the members of the community.
+
+"So it is ended for this year! For many of us perhaps for this life!"
+said the burgomaster. "I thank all who have taken part in the Play up
+to this time. I will report the receipts and expenditures within a few
+days. In consideration of the painful cause, we will dispense with any
+formal close."
+
+A very different mood from the former one now took possession of the
+assembly. All anxiety concerning material things vanished in the
+presence of a deeper sorrow. It was the great, mysterious grief of
+parting, which seized all who had to do anything connected with the
+"Passion." It seemed as if the roots of their hearts had become
+completely interwoven with it and must draw blood in being torn away,
+as if a part of their lives went with it. The old men felt the pang
+most keenly. "For the last time for this life!" are words before whose
+dark portal we stand hesitating, be it where it may--but if this "for
+the last time" concerns the highest and dearest thing we possess on
+earth, they contain a fathomless gulf of sadness! Old Barabbas, the man
+of ninety, was the first, to express it--the others joined in and the
+greybeards who had been young together and devoted their whole lives to
+the cause which to them was the highest in the world, sank into one
+another's arms, like a body of men condemned to death.
+
+Then one chanted the closing line of the choragus: "Till in the world
+beyond we meet"--and all joined as with a _single_ voice, the
+unutterable anguish of resigning that close communion with Deity, in
+which every one of them lived during this period, created its own
+ceremonial of farewell and found apt expression in those last words of
+the Passion Play.
+
+Then they shook hands with one another, exchanging a life-long
+farewell. They knew that they should meet again the next day--in the
+same garments--but no longer what they now were, Roman governor and
+high-priests, apostles and saints. They were excluded from the
+companionship of the Lord, for their Christ had not risen as usual--he
+had fled and faithlessly deserted his flock, ere their task could be
+fulfilled. It was doubly hard!
+
+Old Judas, the venerable Lechner, was so much moved that they were
+obliged to support him down the stairs: Judas weeping over Christ! The
+loyal man had suffered unutterably from the necessity of playing the
+traitor's part--the treachery now practised toward the sacred cause by
+the personator of Christ himself--fairly broke his heart! "That I must
+live to witness this!" he murmured, wringing his hands as he descended
+the steps. But Thomas Rendner shook his handsome head and mournfully
+repeated the momentous words of Pilate: "What is truth?" With tears in
+his eyes, he held out his sinewy right hand consolingly to Caiaphas.
+
+"Don't take it so much to heart, Burgomaster; God is still with us!"
+Then he cast a sorrowful glance toward the corner of the room. "Poor
+Mary! I always thought so!" he muttered compassionately, under his
+breath, and followed the others.
+
+The burgomaster and Ludwig were left behind alone and followed
+the direction of Rendner's glance. There--it almost broke their
+hearts--there sat the burgomaster's sister--the "Mary" in the corner,
+with her hands clasped in her lap, the very attitude in which she
+waited for the body of her Crucified Son.
+
+"Poor sister," said the burgomaster, deeply moved. "For what are you
+waiting? They will never bring him to you again."
+
+"He will come back, the poor martyr!" she replied, her large eyes
+gazing with prophetic earnestness into vacancy. "He will come, weary
+and wounded--perhaps betrayed by all."
+
+"Then I will have nothing to do with him," said the burgomaster in a
+low, firm tone.
+
+"You can do as you please, you are a man. But I, who have so long
+personated his mother--I will wait and receive and comfort him, as a
+mother cheers her erring child."
+
+"Oh, Anastasia!" A cry of pain escaped Ludwig's lips, and, overwhelmed
+by emotion, he turned away.
+
+The burgomaster, with tender sympathy, laid his hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"Ah, sister, Freyer is not worthy that you should love him so!"
+
+"How do I love him?" replied the girl. "I love him as Eternal
+Compassion loves the poor and suffering. He _is_ poor and suffering.
+Oh! do not think evil of him--he does not deserve it. He is good and
+noble! Believe me, a mother must know her child better," she added,
+with the smile that reveals a breaking heart.
+
+She looked the drawing-master kindly in the face: "Ludwig, we both
+understand him, do we not? _We_ believe in him, though all condemn."
+
+Ludwig could not speak--he merely nodded silently and pressed
+Anastasia's hand, as if in recognition of the pledge. He was undergoing
+a superhuman conflict, but, with the strength peculiar to him,
+succeeded in repressing any display of emotion.
+
+The burgomaster stood mutely watching the scene, and neither of the
+three could decide which suffered most.
+
+He gazed in speechless grief at the clasped hands of his sister and his
+friend. How often he had wished for this moment, and now--? What
+_parted_ alone united them, and what united, divided.
+
+"Aye, Freyer has brought much misery upon us!" he said, with sullen
+resentment. "I only hope that he will never set foot again upon the
+soil of his forefathers!"
+
+"Oh, Brother, how can you speak so--you do not mean it. I know that his
+heart will draw him back here; he will seek his home again, and he
+shall find it. You will not thrust him from you when he returns from
+foreign lands sorrowing and repentant. God knows how earnestly I wish
+him happiness, but I do not believe that he will possess it. And as he
+will be loyal to us in his inmost soul, we will be true to him and
+prepare a resting place when the world has nailed his heart upon the
+cross. Shall we not, Ludwig?"
+
+"Yes, by Heaven, we will!" faltered Ludwig, and his tears fell on the
+beautiful head of the girl, who still sat motionless, as if she must
+wait here for the lost one.
+
+"Woman, behold thy son--son, behold thy mother!" stirred the air like a
+breath.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+                             THE MARRIAGE.
+
+
+On a wooded height, hidden in the heart of the forests of the Bavarian
+highlands, stood an ancient hunting castle, the property of the
+Wildenau family. A steep mountain path led up to it, and at its feet,
+like a stone sea, stretched the wide, dry bed of a river, a Griess, as
+it was called in that locality. Only a few persons knew the way; to the
+careless glance the path seemed wholly impassable.
+
+Bare, rugged cliffs towered like a wall around the hunting castle on
+its mossy height, harmonizing in melancholy fashion with the white sea
+of stone below, which formed a harsh foreground to the dreary scene.
+Ever and anon a stag emerged from the woods, crossing the Griess with
+elastic tread, the brown silhouette of its antlers sharply relieved
+against the colorless monotony of the landscape. The hind came forward
+from the opposite side, slowly, reluctantly, with nostrils vibrating.
+The report of a rifle echoed from beyond the river bed, the antlers
+drooped, the royal creature fell upon its knees, then rolled over on
+its back; its huge antlers, flung backward in the death agony, were
+thrust deep down among the loose pebbles. The hind had fled, the
+poacher seized his prey--a slender rill of blood trickled noiselessly
+through the stones, then everything was once more silent and lifeless.
+
+This was the hiding-place where, for seven years, Countess Wildenau had
+hidden the treasury filched from the cross--the rock sepulchre in which
+she intended to keep the God whom the world believed dead. Built close
+against the cliff, half concealed by an overhanging precipice, the
+castle seemed to be set in a niche. Shut out from the sunshine by the
+projecting crag which cast its shadow over it even at noonday, it was
+so cold and damp that the moisture trickled down the walls of the
+building, and, moreover, was surrounded by that strange atmosphere of
+wet moss and rotting mushrooms which awakens so strange a feeling when,
+after a hot walk, we pause to rest in the cool courtyard of some ruined
+castle, where our feet sink into wet masses of mouldering brown leaves
+which for decades no busy hand has swept away. It seems as if the sun
+desired to associate with human beings. Where no mortal eyes behold its
+rays, it ceases to shine. It does not deem it worth while to penetrate
+the heaps of withered leaves, or the tangle of wild vines and bushes,
+or the veil of cobwebs and lime-dust which, in the course of time,
+accumulates in heaps in the masonry of a deserted dwelling.
+
+As we see by a child's appearance whether or not it has a loving
+mother, so the aspect of a house reveals whether or not it is dear to
+its owner, and as a neglected child drags out a joyless existence, so a
+neglected house gradually becomes cold and inhospitable.
+
+This was the case with the deserted little hunting seat. No foot had
+crossed its threshold within the memory of man. What could the Countess
+Wildenau do with it? It was so remote, so far from all the paths of
+travel, so hidden in the woods that it would not even afford a fine
+view. It stood as an outpost on the chart containing the location of
+the Wildenau estates. It had never entered the owner's mind to seek it
+out in this--far less in reality.
+
+Every year an architect was sent there to superintend the most
+necessary repairs, because it was not fitting for a Wildenau to let one
+of these family castles go to ruin. This was all that was done to
+preserve the building. The garden gradually ran to waste, and became so
+blended with the forest that the boughs of the trees beat against the
+windows of the edifice and barred out like a green hedge the last
+straggling sunbeams. A castle for a Sleeping Beauty, but without the
+sleeping princess. Then Fate willed that a blissful secret in its
+owner's breast demanded just such a hiding-place in which to dream the
+strangest fantasy ever imagined by woman since Danæ rested in the
+embrace of Jove.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau sought and found this forgotten spot in her
+chart, and, with the energy bestowed by the habit of being able to
+accomplish whatever we desire, she discovered a secret ford through the
+Griess, known only to a trustworthy old driver, and no one was aware of
+Countess Wildenau's residence when she vanished from society for days.
+There were rumors of a romantic adventure or a religious ecstacy into
+which the Ammergau Passion Play had transported her years before. She
+had set off upon her journey to the Promised Land directly after, and
+as no sea is so wide, no mountain so lofty, that gossip cannot find its
+way over them, it even made its way from the Holy Sepulchre to the
+drawing rooms of the capital.
+
+A gentleman, an acquaintance of so-and-so, had gone to the Orient, and
+in Jerusalem, at the Holy Sepulchre, met a veiled lady, who was no
+other than Countess Wildenau. There would have been nothing specially
+remarkable in that. But at the lady's side knelt a gentleman who bore
+so remarkable a resemblance to the pictures of Christ that one might
+have believed it was the Risen Lord Himself who, dissatisfied with
+heaven, had returned repentant to His deserted resting-place.
+
+How interesting! The imagination of society, thirsting for romance,
+naturally seized upon this bit of news with much eagerness.
+
+Who could the gentleman with the head of Christ be, save the Ammergau
+Christ? This agreed with the sudden interruption of the Passion Play
+that summer, on account of the illness of the Christ--as the people of
+Ammergau said, who perfectly understood how to keep their secrets from
+the outside world.
+
+But as they committed the imprudence of occasionally sending their
+daughters to the city, one and another of these secrets of the
+community, more or less distorted, escaped through the dressing-rooms
+of the mistresses of these Ammergau maids.
+
+Thus here and there a flickering ray fell upon the Ammergau
+catastrophe: The Christ was not ill--he had vanished--run away--with a
+lady of high rank. What a scandal! Then lo! one day Countess Wildenau
+appeared--after a journey of three years in the east--somewhat
+absentminded, a little disposed to assume religious airs, but without
+any genuine piety. Religion is not to be obtained by an indulgence of
+religious-erotic rapture with its sweet delusions--it can be obtained
+only by the hard labor of daily self-sacrifice, of which a nature like
+Madeleine von Wildenau's has no knowledge.
+
+So she returned, somewhat changed--yet only so far as that her own ego,
+which the world did not know, was even more potential than before.
+
+But she came alone! Where had she left her pallid Christ? All inquiries
+were futile. What could be said? There was no proof of anything--and
+besides; proven or not--what charge would have overthrown Countess
+Wildenau? That would have been an achievement for which even her foes
+lacked perseverance?
+
+It is very amusing when a person's moral ruin can be effected by a word
+carelessly uttered! But when the labor of producing proof is associated
+with it, people grow good-natured from sheer indolence--let the victim
+go, and seek an easier prey.
+
+This was the case with the Countess Wildenau! Her position remained as
+unshaken as ever, nay the charm of her person exerted an influence even
+more potent than before. Was it her long absence, or had she grown
+younger? No matter--she had gained a touch of womanly sweetness which
+rendered her irresistible.
+
+In what secret mine of the human heart and feeling had she garnered the
+rays which glittered in her eyes like hidden treasures on which the
+light of day falls for the first time?
+
+When a woman conceals in her heart a secret joy men flock around her,
+with instinctive jealousy, all the more closely, they would fain
+dispute the sweet right of possession with the invisible rival. This is
+a trait of human nature. But one of the number did so consciously, not
+from a jealous instinct but with the full, intense resolve of
+unswerving fidelity--the prince! With quiet caution, and the wise
+self-control peculiar to him, he steadily pursued his aim. Not with
+professions of love; he was only too well aware that love is no weapon
+against love! On the contrary, he chose a different way, that of cold
+reason.
+
+"So long as she is aglow with love, she will be proof against any other
+feeling--she must first be cooled to the freezing-point, then the
+chilled bird can be clasped carefully to the breast and given new
+warmth."
+
+It would be long ere that point was reached--but he knew how to wait!
+
+Meanwhile he drew the Countess into a whirl of the most fascinating
+amusements.
+
+No word, no look betrayed the still hopeful lover! With the manner of
+one who had relinquished all claims, but was too thoroughly a man of
+the world to avoid an interesting woman because he had failed to win
+her heart, he again sought her society after her return. Had he
+betrayed the slightest sign of emotion, he would have been repulsive
+in her present mood. But the perfect frankness and unconcern with which
+he played the "old friend" and nothing more, made his presence a
+comfort, nay even a necessity of life! So he became her inseparable
+companion--her shadow, and by the influence of his high position
+stifled every breath of slander, which floated from Ammergau to injure
+his beautiful friend.
+
+During the first months after her return she had the whim--as she
+called it--of retiring from society and spending more time upon her
+estates. But the wise caution of the prince prevented it.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, don't do that. Will you give free play to the
+rumors about your Ammergau episode and the pilgrimage to Jerusalem
+connected with it, by withdrawing into solitude and thus leaving the
+field to your slanderers, that they may disport at will in the deserted
+scenes of your former splendor?"
+
+"This," he argued, "is the very time when you must take your old
+position in society, or you will be--pardon my frankness--a fallen
+star."
+
+The Countess evidently shrank from the thought.
+
+"Or--have you some castle in the air whose delights outweigh the world
+in your eyes?" he asked with relentless insistence:
+
+This time the Countess flushed to the fair curls which clustered around
+her forehead.
+
+Since that time the drawing-rooms of the Wildenau palace had again
+been filled with the fragrance of roses--lighted, and adorned with
+glowing Oriental magnificence, and the motley tide of society, amid
+vivacious chatter, flooded the spacious apartments. Glittering with
+diamonds, intoxicated by the charm of her own beauty whose power she
+had not tested for years, the Countess was the centre of all this
+splendor--while in the lonely hunting-seat beyond the pathless Griess,
+the solitary man whom she had banished thither vainly awaited--his
+wife.
+
+The leaves in the forest were turning brown for the sixth time since
+their return from Jerusalem, the autumn gale was sweeping fresh heaps
+of withered leaves to add to the piles towering like walls around the
+deserted building, the height was constantly growing colder and more
+dreary, the drawing-rooms below were continually growing warmer, the
+Palace Wildenau, with its Persian hangings and rugs and cosy nooks
+behind gay screens daily became more thronged with guests. People drew
+their chairs nearer and nearer the blazing fire on the hearth, which
+cast a rosy light upon pallid faces and made weary eyes sparkle with a
+simulated glow of passion. The intimate friends of the Countess
+Wildenau, reclining in comfortable armchairs, were gathered in a group,
+the gentlemen resting after the fatigues of hunting--or the autumn
+man[oe]uvres, the ladies after the first receptions and balls of the
+season, which are the more exhausting before habit again asserts its
+sway, to say nothing of the question of toilettes, always so trying to
+the nerves at these early balls.
+
+What is to be done at such times? It is certainly depressing to
+commence the season with last year's clothes, and one cannot get new
+ones because nobody knows what styles the winter will bring? Parisian
+novelties have not come. So one must wear an unassuming toilette of no
+special style in which one feels uncomfortable and casts aside
+afterwards, because one receives from Paris something entirely
+different from what was expected!
+
+So the ladies chatted and Countess Wildenau entered eagerly into the
+discussion. She understood and sympathized with these woes, though now,
+as the ladies said, she really could not "chime in" since she had a
+store of valuable Oriental stuffs and embroideries, which would supply
+a store of "exclusive" toilettes for years. Only people of inferior
+position were compelled to follow the fashions--great ladies set them
+and the costliness of the material prevented the garments from
+appearing too fantastic. A Countess Wildenau could allow herself such
+bizarre costumes. She had a right to set the fashions and people would
+gladly follow her if they could, but two requirements were lacking, on
+one side the taste--on the other the purse. The Countess charmingly
+waived her friends' envious compliments; but her thoughts were not on
+the theme they were discussing; her eyes wandered to a crayon picture
+hanging beside the mantel-piece, the picture of a boy who had the
+marvellous beauty of one of Raphael's cherubs.
+
+"What child is that?" asked one of the ladies who had followed her
+glance.
+
+"Don't you recognize it?" replied the Countess with a dreamy smile. "It
+is the Christ in the picture of the Sistine Madonna."
+
+"Why, how very strange--if you had a son one might have thought it was
+his portrait, it resembles you so much."
+
+"Do you notice it?" the Countess answered. "Yes, that was the opinion
+of the artist who copied the picture; he gave it to me as a surprise."
+She rose and took another little picture from the wall. "Look, this is
+a portrait of me when I was three years old--there really is some
+resemblance."
+
+The ladies all assented, and the gentlemen, delighted to have an
+opportunity to interrupt the discussion of the fashions, came forward
+and noticed with astonishment the striking likeness between the girl
+and the boy.
+
+"It is really the Christ child in the Sistine Madonna--very exquisitely
+painted!" said the prince.
+
+"By the way, Cousin," cried a sharp, high voice, over Prince Emil's
+shoulder, a voice issuing from a pair of very thin lips shaded by a
+reddish moustache, "do you know that you have the very model of this
+picture on your own estates?"
+
+The Countess, with a strangely abrupt, nervous movement, pushed the
+copy aside and hastily turned to replace her own portrait on the wall.
+The gentlemen tried to aid her, but she rejected all help, though she
+was not very skillful in her task, and consequently was compelled to
+keep her back turned to the group a long time.
+
+"It is possible--I cannot remember," she replied, while still in this
+position. "I cannot know the children of all my tenants."
+
+"Yes," the jarring voice persisted, "it is a boy who is roaming about
+near your little hunting-castle."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau grew ghastly pale.
+
+"Apropos of that hunting box," the gentleman added--he was one of the
+disinherited Wildenaus--"you might let me have it, Cousin. I'll confess
+that I've recently been looking up the old rat's nest. Schlierheim will
+lease his preserves beyond the government forests, but only as far as
+your boundaries, and there is no house. My brother and I would hire
+them if we could have the old Wildenau hunting-box. We are ready to pay
+you the largest sum the thing is worth. You know it formerly belonged
+to our branch of the family, and your husband obtained it only forty
+years ago. At that time it was valueless to us, but now we should like
+to buy it again."
+
+The Countess shivered and ordered more wood to be piled on the fire.
+She had unconsciously drawn nearer to Prince Emily as if seeking his
+protection. Her shoulder touched his. She was startlingly pale.
+
+"The recollection of her husband always affects her in this way," the
+prince remarked.
+
+"Well, we will discuss the matter some other time, _belle cousine_!"
+said Herr Wildenau, sipping a glass of Chartreuse which the servant
+offered.
+
+Prince Emil's watchful gaze followed the little scene with the closest
+attention.
+
+"Did you not intend to have the little castle put in order for your
+father's residence, as the city air does not agree with him in his
+present condition?" he said, with marked emphasis.
+
+"Yes, certainly--I--we were speaking of it a short time ago," stammered
+the Countess. "Besides, I am fond of the little castle. I should not
+wish to sell it."
+
+"Ah, you are _fond_ of it. Pardon me--that is difficult to understand!
+I thought you set no value upon it--the whole place is so neglected."
+
+"That is exactly what pleases me--I like to have it so," replied the
+Countess in an irritated tone. "It does not need to have everything in
+perfect order. It is a genuine forest idyl!"
+
+"A forest idyl?" repeated the cousin. "H'm, Ah, yes! That's a different
+matter. Pardon me. Had I known it, I would not have alluded to the
+subject!" His keen gray eyes glittered with a peculiar light as he
+kissed her hand and took his leave.
+
+The others thought they must now withdraw also, and the Countess
+detained no one--she was evidently very weary.
+
+The prince also took leave--for the sake of etiquette--but he
+whispered, with an expression of friendly anxiety, "I will come back
+soon." And he kept his promise.
+
+An hour had passed. Madeleine von Wildenau, her face still colorless,
+was reclining on a divan in a simple home costume.
+
+Prince Emil's first glance sought the little table on which stood the
+crayon picture of the infant Christ--it had vanished.
+
+The Countess followed his look and saw that he missed it--their eyes
+met. The prince took a chair and sat down by her side, as if she were
+an invalid who had just sustained a severe operation and required the
+utmost care. He himself was very pale. Gently arranging the pillows
+behind her, he gazed sympathizingly into her face.
+
+"Why did you not tell me this before?" he murmured, almost inaudibly,
+after a pause. "All this should have been very differently managed!"
+
+"Prince, how could I suppose that you were so generous--so noble"--she
+could not finish the sentence, her eyes fell, the beautiful woman's
+face crimsoned with shame.
+
+He gazed earnestly at her, feeling at this moment the first great
+sorrow of his life, but also perceiving that he could not judge the
+exquisite creature who lay before him like a statue of the Magdalene
+carved by the most finished artist--because he could not help loving
+her in her sweet embarrassment more tenderly than ever.
+
+"Madeleine," he said, softly, and his breath fanned her brow like a
+cooling breeze, "will you trust me? It will be easier for you."
+
+She clasped his hand in her slender, transparent fingers, raising her
+eyes beseechingly to his with a look of the sweetest feminine weakness,
+like a young girl or an innocent child who is atoning for some trivial
+sin. "Let me keep my secret," she pleaded, with such touching
+embarrassment that it almost robbed the prince of his calmness.
+
+"Very well," he said, controlling himself with difficulty. "I will ask
+no farther questions and will not strive to penetrate your secret. But
+if you ever need a friend--and I fear that may happen--pray commit no
+farther imprudences, and remember that, in me, you possess one who adds
+to a warm heart a sufficiently cool head to be able to act for you as
+this difficult situation requires! Farewell, _chère amie_! Secure a
+complete rest."
+
+Without waiting for an answer, like the experienced physician, who
+merely prescribes for his patients without conversing with them about
+the matter, he disappeared.
+
+The countess was ashamed--fairly oppressed by the generosity of his
+character. Would it have been better had she told him the truth?
+
+Should she tell him that she was married? Married! Was she wedded?
+Could she be called a wife? She had played a farce with herself and
+Freyer, a farce in which, from her standpoint, she could not believe
+herself.
+
+On their flight from Ammergau they had hastened to Prankenberg,
+surprised the old pastor in his room, and with Josepha and a coachman
+who had grown gray in the service of the Wildenau family for witnesses,
+declared in the presence of the priest that they took each other for
+husband and wife.
+
+The old gentleman, in his surprise and perplexity, knew not what course
+to pursue. The countess appealed to the rite of the Tridentine Council,
+according to which she and Freyer, after this declaration, were man and
+wife, even without a wedding ceremony or permission to marry in another
+diocese. Then the loyal pastor, who had grown gray in the service of
+the Prankenbergs, as well as of his church, could do nothing except
+acknowledge the fact, declare the marriage valid, and give them the
+marriage certificate.
+
+So at the breakfast-table, over the priest's smoking coffee, the bond
+had been formed which the good pastor was afterwards to enter in the
+church register as a marriage. But even this outward proof of the
+marriage between the widowed Countess Wildenau and the Ammergau
+wood-carver Freyer was removed, for the countess had been right in
+distrusting her father and believing that his advice concerning the
+secret marriage was but a stratagem of war to deter her from taking any
+public step.
+
+On returning from the priest's, her carriage dashed by Prince von
+Prankenberg's.
+
+Ten minutes after the prince rushed like a tempest into the room of the
+peaceful old pastor, and succeeded in preventing the entry of the
+"scandal," as he called it, in the church register. So the proofs of
+the fact were limited to the marriage certificate in the husband's
+hands and the two witnesses, Josepha and Martin, the coachman--a chain,
+it is true, which bound Madeleine von Wildenau, yet which was always in
+her power.
+
+What was this marriage? How would a man like the prince regard it?
+Would it not wear a totally different aspect in the eyes of the sceptic
+and experienced man of the world than in those of the simple-hearted
+peasant who believed that everything which glittered was gold? Was such
+a marriage, which permitted the exercise of none of the rights and
+duties which elevate it into a moral institution, better than an
+illegal relation? Nay, rather worse, for it perpetrated a robbery of
+God--it was an illegal relation which had stolen a sacred name!
+
+But--what did this mean? To-day, for the first time, she felt as if
+fate might give the matter the moral importance which she did not
+willingly accord it--as if the Deity whose name she had abused might
+take her at her word and compel her to turn jest into earnest.
+
+Her better nature frankly confessed that this would be only moral
+justice! To this great truth she bowed her head as the full ears bend
+before the approaching hail storm.
+
+Spite of the chill autumn evening, there was an incomprehensible
+sultriness in the air of the room.
+
+Something in the brief conversation with Herr Wildenau and especially
+in the manner in which the prince, with his keen penetration,
+understood the episode, startled the Countess and aroused her fears.
+
+Why had Herr Wildenau gone to the little hunting-box? How had he seen
+the child?
+
+Yet how could she herself have been so imprudent as to display the
+picture? And still--it was the infant Christ of Raphael. Could she not
+even have one of Raphael's heads in her drawing-room without danger
+that some one would discover a suspicious resemblance!
+
+She sprang from the cushions indignantly, drawing herself up to her
+full height. Who was she? What did she dread?
+
+"Anything but cowardice, Madeleine," she cried out to herself. "Woe
+betide you, if your resolution fails, you are lost! If you do not look
+the brute gossip steadily in the eye, if so much as an eye-lash
+quivers, it will rend you. Do not be cowardly, Madeleine, have no
+scruples, they will betray you, will make your glance timid, your
+bearing uncertain, send a flush to your brow at every chance word.
+But"--she sank back among her cushions--"but unfortunately this very
+day the misfortune has happened, all these people may go away and say
+that they saw the Countess Wildenau blush and grow confused--and
+why?--Because a child was mentioned--"
+
+She shuddered and cowered--a moan of pain escaped her lips!
+
+"Yet you exist, my child--I cannot put you out of the world--and no
+mother ever had such a son. And I, instead of being permitted to be
+proud of you, must feel ashamed.
+
+"Oh, God, thou gavest me every blessing: the man I loved, a beautiful
+child--all earthly power and splendor--yet no contentment, no
+happiness! What do I lack?" She sat a long time absorbed in gloomy
+thought, then suddenly the cause became clear. She lacked the moral
+balance of service and counter-service.
+
+That was the reason all her happiness was but theft, and she was
+forced, like a thief, to enjoy it in fear and secrecy. Her maternal
+happiness was theft--for Josepha, the stranger, filled a mother's place
+to the boy, and when she herself pressed him to her heart she was
+stealing a love she had not earned. Her conjugal happiness was a theft,
+for so long as she retained her fortune, she was not permitted to
+marry! That was the curse! Wherever she looked, wherever she saw
+herself, she was always the recipient, the petitioner--and what did she
+bestow in return? Where did she make any sacrifice? Nothing--and
+nowhere! Egotism was apparent in everything. To enjoy all--possess all,
+even what was forbidden and sacrifice nothing, must finally render her
+a thief--in her own eyes, in those of God, and who knows, perhaps also
+in those of men, should her secret ever be discovered!
+
+"Woe betide you, unhappy woman--have you not the strength to resign one
+for the other? Would you rather live in fear of the betrayer than
+voluntarily relinquish your stolen goods? Then do not think yourself
+noble or lofty--do not deem yourself worthy of the grace for which you
+long!"
+
+She hid her face in the cushions of the divan, fairly quivering under
+the burden of her self-accusation.
+
+"I beg your pardon, your Highness, I only wanted to ask what evening
+toilette you desired."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau started up. "If you would only cease this
+stealing about on tip-toe!" she angrily exclaimed. "I beg pardon, I
+knocked twice and thought I did not hear your 'come in.'"
+
+"Walk so that you can be heard--I don't like to have my servants glide
+about like spies, remember that!"
+
+"At Princess Hohenstein's we were all obliged to wear felt slippers.
+Her Highness could not endure any noise."
+
+"Well I have better nerves than Princess Hohenstein."--
+
+"And apparently a worse conscience," muttered the maid, who had not
+failed to notice her mistress' confusion.
+
+"May I ask once more about the evening toilette?"
+
+"Street costume--I shall not go to the theatre, I will drive out to the
+estates. Order Martin to have the carriage ready."
+
+The maid withdrew.
+
+The countess felt as if she were in a fever--must that inquisitive maid
+see her in such a condition? It seemed as though she was surrounded
+like a hunted animal, as though eyes were everywhere watching her.
+
+There was something in the woman's look which had irritated her. Oh,
+God, had matters gone so far--must she fear the glance of her own maid?
+
+Up and away to nature and her child, to her poor neglected husband on
+the cliff.
+
+Her heart grew heavy at the thought that the time since she had last
+visited the deserted man could soon be counted by months.
+
+Her _interest_ in the simple-hearted son of nature was beginning to
+wane, she could not deny it. Woe betide her if _love_ should also grow
+cold; if that should happen, then--she realized it with horror--she
+would have no excuse for the whole sensuous--supersensuous episode,
+which had perilled both her honor and her existence!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX.
+
+                        AT THE CHILD'S BEDSIDE.
+
+
+The stars were already twinkling above the Griess, here and there one
+looked as if impaled on a giant flagstaff, as they sparkled just above
+the tops of the lofty firs or the sharp pinnacles of the crags.
+Countless shooting stars glided hither and thither like loving glances
+seeking one another.
+
+The night was breathing in long regular inhalations. Every five minutes
+her sleeping breath rustled the tree-tops.
+
+Four horses drawing a small calash whose wheels were covered with
+rubber glided across the Griess as noiselessly as a spectral equipage.
+The animals knew the way, and their fiery spirit urged them forward
+without the aid of shout or lash, though the mountain grew steeper and
+steeper till the black walls of the hunting seat at last became visible
+in the glimmering star-light.
+
+Josepha was standing at the window of the little sitting-room upstairs:
+
+"I think the countess is coming." At a table, by the lamp, bending over
+a book, sat "the _steward_."
+
+He evidently had not heard the words, for he did not look up from the
+volume and it seemed as if the gloomy shadow above his eyes grew darker
+still.
+
+"Joseph, the countess is coming!" cried Josepha in a louder tone.
+
+"You are deceiving yourself again, as usual," he replied in the
+wonderful voice which gave special importance to the simplest words, as
+when a large, musical bell is rung for some trivial cause.
+
+"No, this time it really is she," Josepha insisted.
+
+"I don't believe it."
+
+Josepha shook her head. "You must receive her."
+
+"She is not coming on my account, it is only to see the child."
+
+"Then _I_ will go. Oh, Heaven, what a life!" sighed Josepha, going out
+upon the green moss-covered steps of the half ruined stone stairs where
+the carriage had just stopped.
+
+"Is that you, Josepha?" asked the countess, in a disappointed tone,
+"where--where is Freyer?"
+
+"He is within, your Highness, he would not believe that your Highness
+was really coming!"
+
+The countess understood the bitter meaning of the words.
+
+"I did not come to endure ill-temper!" she murmured. "Is the boy
+asleep?"
+
+"Yes, we have taken him into the sitting-room, he is coughing again and
+his head is burning, so I wanted to have him in a warmer room."
+
+"Isn't it warm here?"
+
+"Since the funnel fell out, we cannot heat these rooms; Freyer tried to
+fit it in, but it smokes constantly. I wrote to your Highness last
+month asking what should be done. Freyer, too, reported a fortnight ago
+that the stove ought to be repaired, and the child moved to other
+apartments before the cold weather set in if Your Highness approved,
+but--we have had no answer. Now the little boy is ill--it is beginning
+to be very cold."
+
+Madeleine von Waldenau bit her lips. Yes, it was true, the letters had
+been written--and in the whirl of society and visits she had forgotten
+them.
+
+Now the child was ill--through her fault. She entered the sitting-room.
+Freyer stood waiting for her in a half defiant, half submissive
+attitude--half master, half servant.
+
+The bearing was unlovely, like everything that comes from a false
+position. It displeased the countess and injured Freyer, though she had
+herself placed him in this situation. It made him appear awkward and
+clownish.
+
+When, with careless hand, we have damaged a work of art and perceive
+that instead of improving we have marred it, we do not blame ourselves,
+but the botched object, and the innocent object must suffer because we
+have spoiled our own pleasure in it. It is the same with the work of
+art of creation--a human being.
+
+There are some natures which can never leave things undisturbed, but
+seek to gain a creative share in everything by attempts at shaping and
+when convinced that it would have been better had they left the work
+untouched, they see in the imperfect essay, not their own want of
+skill, but the inflexibility of the material, pronounce it not worth
+the labor bestowed--and cast it aside.
+
+The countess had one of these natures, so unconsciously cruel in their
+artistic experiments, and her marred object was--Freyer.
+
+Therefore his bearing did not, could not please her, and she allowed a
+glance of annoyance to rest upon him, which did not escape his notice.
+Passing him, she went to their son's bed.
+
+There lay the "infant Christ," a boy six or seven years old with silken
+curls and massive brows, beneath whose shadow the closed eyes were
+concealed by dark-lashed lids. A single ray from the hanging lamp fell
+upon the forehead of the little Raphael, and showed the soft brows knit
+as if with unconscious pain.
+
+The child was not happy--or not well--or both. He breathed heavily in
+his sleep, and there was a slight nervous twitching about the
+delicately moulded nostrils.
+
+"He has evidently lost flesh since I was last here!" said the countess
+anxiously.
+
+Freyer remained silent.
+
+"What do you think?" asked the mother.
+
+"What can I think? You have not seen the boy for so _long_ that you can
+judge whether he has altered far better than I."
+
+"Joseph!" The beautiful woman drew herself up, and a look of genuine
+sorrow rested upon the pale, irritated countenance of her husband.
+"Whenever I come, I find nothing save bitterness and cutting
+words--open and secret reproaches. This is too much. Not even to-day,
+when I find my child ill, do you spare the mother's anxious heart. This
+is more than I can endure, it is ignoble, unchivalrous."
+
+"Pardon me," replied her husband in a low tone, "I could not suppose
+that a mother who deserts her child for months could possibly possess
+so tender a nature that she would instantly grow anxious over a slight
+illness or a change in his appearance. I am a plain man, and cannot
+understand such contradictions!"
+
+"Yes, from your standpoint you are right--in your eyes I must seem a
+monster of heartlessness. I almost do in my own. Yet, precisely because
+the reproach appears merited it cuts me so deeply, that is why it would
+be generous and noble to spare me! Oh! Freyer, what has become of the
+great divine love which once forgave my every fault?"
+
+"It is where you have banished it, buried in the depths of my heart, as
+I am buried among these lonely mountains, silent and forgotten."
+
+The countess, shaking her head, gazed earnestly at him. "Joseph, you
+see that I am suffering. You must see that it would be a solace to rest
+in your love, and you are ungenerous enough to humble my bowed head
+still more."
+
+"I have no wish to humble you. But we can be generous only to those who
+need it. I see in the haughty Countess Wildenau a person who can
+exercise generosity, but not require it."
+
+"Because you do not look into the depths of my heart, tortured with
+agonies of unrest and self-accusation?" As she spoke tears sprang to
+her eyes, and she involuntarily thought of the faithful, shrewd friend
+at home whose delicate power of perception had that very day spared her
+the utterance of a single word, and at one glance perceived all the
+helplessness of her situation.
+
+True, the _latter_ was a man of the world whom the tinsel and glitter
+which surrounded her no longer had power to dazzle, and who was
+therefore aware how poor and wretched one can be in the midst of
+external magnificence.
+
+The _former_--a man of humble birth, with the childish idea of the
+value of material things current among the common people, could not
+imagine that a person might be surrounded by splendor and luxury, play
+a brilliant part in society, and yet be unhappy and need consideration.
+
+But, however, she might apologize for him, the very excuses lowered him
+still more in her eyes! Each of these conflicts seemed to widen the
+gulf between them instead of bridging it.
+
+Such scenes, which always reminded her afresh of his lowly origin, did
+him more injury in her eyes than either of them suspected at the
+moment. They were not mere ebullitions of anger, which yielded to
+equally sudden reactions--they were not phases of passion, but the
+result of cool deliberation from the standpoint of the educated woman,
+which ended in hopeless disappointment.
+
+The continual refrain: "You do not understand me!" with which the
+countess closed such discussions expressed the utter hopelessness of
+their mutual relations.
+
+"You wonder that I come so rarely!" she said bitterly. "And yet it is
+you alone who are to blame--nay, you have even kept me from the bedside
+of my child."
+
+"Indeed?" Freyer with difficulty suppressed his rising wrath. "This,
+too!"
+
+"Yes, how can you expect me to come gladly, when I always encounter
+scenes like these? How often, when I could at last escape from the
+thousand demands of society, and hurried hither with a soul thirsting
+for love, have you repulsed me with your perpetual reproaches which you
+make only because you have no idea of my relations and the claims of
+the fashionable world. So, at last, when I longed to come here to my
+husband and my child, dread of the unpleasant scenes which shadow your
+image, held me back, and I preferred to conjure before me at home the
+Freyer whom I once loved and always should love, if you did not
+yourself destroy the noble image. With _that_ Freyer I have sweet
+intercourse by my lonely fireside--with _him_ I obtain comfort and
+peace, if I avoid _this_ Freyer with his petty sensitiveness, his
+constant readiness to take umbrage." A mournful smile illumined her
+face as she approached him; "You see that when I think of the Freyer of
+whom I have just spoken--the Freyer of my imagination--my heart
+overflows and my eyes grow dim! Do you no longer know that Freyer? Can
+you not tell me where I shall find him again if I seek him very, _very_
+earnestly?"
+
+Freyer opened his arms and pointed to his heart: "Here, here, you can
+find him, if you desire--come, my beloved, loved beyond all things
+earthly, come to the heart which is only sick and sensitive from
+longing for you."
+
+In blissful forgetfulness she threw herself upon his breast, completely
+overwhelmed by another wave of the old illusion, losing herself
+entirely in his ardent embrace.
+
+"Oh, my dear wife!" he murmured in her ear, "I know that I am irritable
+and unjust! But you do not suspect the torment to which you condemn me.
+Banished from your presence, far from my home, torn from my native
+soil, and not yet rooted in yours. What life is this? My untrained
+reason is not capable of creating a philosophy which could solve this
+mystery. Why must these things be? I am married, yet not married. I am
+your husband, yet you are not my wife. I have committed no crime, yet
+am a prisoner, am not a dishonored man--yet am a despised one who must
+conceal himself in order not to bring shame upon his wife!
+
+"So the years passed and life flits by!" You come often, but--I might
+almost say only to make me taste once more the joys of the heaven from
+which I am banished.
+
+"Ah, it is more cruel than all the tortures of bell, for the condemned
+souls are not occasionally transferred to Heaven only to be again
+thrust forth and suffer a thousandfold. Even the avenging God is not so
+pitiless."
+
+The countess, overwhelmed by this heavy charge, let her head sink upon
+her husband's breast.
+
+"See, my wife," he continued in a gentle, subdued tone, whose magic
+filled her heart with that mournful pleasure with which we listen to a
+beautiful dirge even beside the corpse of the object of our dearest
+love. "In your circles people probably have sufficient self-control to
+suppress a great sorrow. I know that I only weary and annoy you by my
+constant complaints, and that you will at last prefer to avoid me
+entirely rather than expose yourself to them!
+
+"I know this--yet I cannot do otherwise. I was not trained to
+dissimulation--self-control, as you call it--I cannot laugh when my
+heart is bleeding or utter sweet words when my soul is full of
+bitterness. I do not understand what compulsion could prevent you, a
+free, rich woman, from coming to the husband whom you love, and I
+cannot believe that you could not come if you longed to do so--that is
+why I so often doubt your love.
+
+"What should you love in me? I warned you that I cannot always move
+about with the crown of thorns and sceptre of reeds as Ecce Homo, and
+you now perceive that you were deceived in me, that I am only a poor,
+ordinary man, your inferior in education and intellect! And so long as
+I am not a real Ecce Homo--though that perhaps might happen--so long I
+am not what you need. But however poor and insignificant I may be--I am
+not without honor--and when I think that you only come occasionally,
+out of compassion, to bring the beggar the crumbs which your fine
+gentlemen have left me--then, I will speak frankly--then my pride
+rebels and I would rather starve than accept alms."
+
+"And therefore you thrust back the loving wife when, with an
+overflowing heart, she stole away from the glittering circles of
+society to hasten to your side, therefore you were cold and stern,
+disdaining what the others _sought in vain_!--For, however distant you
+may be, there has not been an hour of my life which you might not have
+witnessed--however free and independent of you I may stand, there is
+not a fibre in my heart which does not cling to you! Ah, if you could
+only understand this deep, sacred tie which binds the freest spirit to
+the husband, the father of my child. If I had wings to soar over every
+land and sea--I should ever be drawn back to you and would return as
+surely as 'the bird bound by the silken cord.' No one can part me from
+you except _you yourself_. That you are not my equal in education, as
+you assert, does not sever us, but inferiority of _character_ would do
+so, for nothing but _greatness_ attracts me--to find you base would be
+the death-knell of our love! Even the child would no longer be a bond
+between us, for to intellectual natures like mine the ties of blood are
+mere animal instincts, unless pervaded and transfigured by a loftier
+idea. The greatest peril which threatens our love is that your narrow
+views prevent your attaining the standpoint from which a woman like
+myself must be judged. I have great faults which need great indulgence
+and a superiority which is not alarmed by them. Unfortunately, my
+friend, you lack both. I have a great love for you--but you measure it
+by the contracted scales of your humdrum morality, and before this it
+vanishes because its dimensions far transcend it.--Where, where, my
+friend, is the grandeur, the freedom of the soul which I need?"
+
+"Alas, your words are but too true," said Freyer, releasing her from
+his embrace. "Every word is a death sentence. You ask a grandeur which
+I do not possess and shall never obtain. I grew up in commonplace
+ideas, I have never seen any other life than that in which the husband
+and wife belonged together, the father and mother reared, tended, and
+watched their children together, and love in this close, tender
+companionship reached its highest goal. This idea of quiet domestic
+happiness embodied to me all the earthly bliss allotted by God to
+Christian husbands and wives. Of a love which is merely incidental,
+something in common with all the other interests of life, and which
+when it comes in conflict with them, must move aside and wait till it
+is permitted to assert itself again, of such a love I had no
+conception--at least, not in marriage! True, we know that in the dawn
+of love it is kept secret as something which must be hidden. But this
+is a state of restless torture, which we strive to end as soon as
+possible by a marriage. That such a condition of affairs would be
+possible in marriage would never have entered my mind, and say what you
+will, a--marriage like ours is little better than an illegal relation."
+
+The countess started--she had had the same thought that very day.
+
+"And I "--Freyer inexorably continued--"am little more than your lover!
+If you choose to be faithful to me, I shall be grateful, but do not ask
+the 'grandeur' as you call it, of my believing it. Whoever regards
+conjugal duties so lightly--whoever, like you, feels bound by no law
+'which was only made for poor, ordinary people' will keep faith
+only--so long as it is agreeable to do so."
+
+The countess, gazing into vacancy, vainly strove to find a reply.
+
+"This seems very narrow, very ridiculous from your lofty standpoint.
+You see I shall always be rustic. It is a misfortune for you that
+ you came to me. Why did you not remain in your own aristocratic
+circle--gentlemen of noble birth would have understood you far better
+than a poor, plain man like me. I tell myself so daily--it is the worm
+which gnaws at my life. Now you have the 'greatness' you desire, the
+only 'greatness' I can offer--that of the perception of our misery."
+
+Madeleine nodded hopelessly. "Yes, we are in an evil strait. I despair
+more and more of restoring peace between us--for it would be possible
+only in case I could succeed in making you comprehend the necessity of
+the present certainly unnatural form of our marriage. Yet you cannot
+and will not see that a woman like me cannot live in poverty, that
+wealth, though it does not render me happy, is nevertheless
+indispensable, not on account of the money, but because with it honor,
+power, and distinction would be lost. You know that this would follow
+an acknowledgement of our marriage, and I would die rather than resign
+them. I was born to a station too lofty to be content in an humble
+sphere. Do you expect the eagle to descend to a linnet's nest and dwell
+there? It would die, for it can breathe only in the regions for which
+it was created."
+
+"But the eagle should never have stooped to the linnet," said Freyer,
+gloomily.
+
+"I believed that I should find in you a consort, aspiring enough to
+follow me to my heights, for the wings of your genius rustled with
+mighty strokes above me when you hung upon the cross. Oh, can one who,
+like you, has reached the height of the cross, sink to the Philistine
+narrowness of the ideas of the lower classes and thrust aside the
+foaming elixir of love, because it is not proffered in the usual wooden
+bowl of the daily performance of commonplace duties? It is incredible,
+but true. And lastly you threaten that I shall make you an Ecce Homo!
+If you were, it would be no fault of mine but because, even in daily
+life, you could not cease to play the Christ."
+
+The countess had spoken with cutting sharpness and bitterness; it
+seemed as if the knife she turned against the man she loved must be
+piercing her own heart.
+
+Freyer's breath came heavily, but no sound betrayed the anguish of the
+wound he had received. But the child, as if feeling, even in its sleep,
+that its mother was about to sunder, with a fatal blow, the chord of
+life uniting her to the father and itself, quivered in pain and flung
+its little hands into the air, as though to protect the mysterious bond
+whose filaments ran through its heart also.
+
+"See, the child feels our strife and suffers from it!" said Freyer, and
+the unutterable pain in the words swept away all hardness, all
+defiance. The mother, with tearful eyes, sank down beside the bed of
+the suffering child--languishing under the discord between her and its
+father like a tender blossom beneath the warfare of the elements. "My
+child!" she said in a choking voice, "how thin your little hands have
+grown! What does this mean?"
+
+She pressed the boy's transparent little hands to her lips and when she
+looked up again two wonderful dark eyes were gazing at her from the
+child's pale face. Yes, those were the eyes of the infant Redeemer of
+the World in the picture of the Sistine Madonna, the eyes which mirror
+the foreboding of the misery of a world. It was the expression of
+Freyer's, but spiritualized, and as single sunbeams dance upon a dark
+flood, it seemed as if golden rays from his mother's sparkling orbs had
+leaped into his.
+
+What a marvellous child! The mother's delicate beauty, blended with the
+deep earnestness of the father, steeped in the loveliness and
+transfiguration of Raphael. And she could wound the father of this boy
+with cruel words? She could scorn the wonderful soul of Freyer, which
+gazed at her in mute reproach from the eyes of the child, because the
+woe of the Redeemer had impressed upon it indelible traces; disdain it
+beside the bed of this boy, this pledge of a love whose supernatural
+power transformed the man into a god, to rest for a moment in a divine
+embrace? "Mother!" murmured the boy softly, as if in a waking dream;
+but Madeleine von Wildenau felt with rapture that he meant _her_, not
+Josepha. Then he closed his eyes again and slept on.
+
+Kneeling at the son's bedside, she held out her hand to the father; it
+seemed as if a trembling ray of light entered her soul, reflected from
+the moment when he had formerly approached her in all the radiance of
+his power and beauty.
+
+"And _we_ should not love each other?" she said, while binning tears
+flowed down her cheeks. Freyer drew her from, the child's couch,
+clasping her in a close embrace. "My dove!" He could say no more, grief
+and love stifled his voice.
+
+She threw her arms around his neck, as she had done when she made her
+penitent confession with such irresistible grace that he would have
+pardoned every mortal sin. "Forgive me, Joseph," she said softly, in
+order not to wake the boy who, even in sleep, turned his little head
+toward his parents, as a flower sways toward the sun. "I am a poor,
+weak woman; I myself suffer unutterably under the separation from you
+and the child; if you knew how I often feel--a rock would pity me! It
+is a miserable condition--nothing is mine, neither you, my son, nor my
+wealth, unless I sacrifice one for the other, and that I cannot resolve
+to do. Ah, have compassion, on my weakness. It is woman's way to bear
+the most unendurable condition rather than form an energetic resolve
+which might change it. I know that the right course would be for me to
+find courage to renounce the world and say: 'I am married, I will
+resign, as my husband's will requires, the Wildenau fortune; I will
+retire from the stage as a beggar--I will starve and work for my daily
+bread.' I often think how beautiful and noble this would be, and that
+perhaps we might be happy so--happier than we are now--if it were only
+_done_! But when I seriously face the thought, I feel that I cannot do
+it."
+
+"Yet you told me in Ammergau," cried Freyer, "that it was only on your
+father's account that you could not acknowledge the marriage. Your
+father is now a paralytic, half-foolish old man, who cannot live long,
+then this reason will be removed."
+
+"Yes, when we married it _was_ he who prevented me from announcing it;
+I wished to do so, and it would have been easy. But if I state the fact
+now, after having been secretly married eight years, during which I
+have illegally retained the property, I shall stamp myself a cheat.
+Take me to the summit of the Kofel and bid me leap down its thousand
+feet of cliff--I cannot, were it to purchase my eternal salvation. Hurl
+me down--I care not--but do not expect me voluntarily to take the
+plunge, it is impossible. Unless God sends an angel to bear me over the
+chasm on its wings, all pleading will be futile."
+
+She pressed her cheek, burning with the fever of fear, tenderly against
+his: "Have pity on my weakness, forgive me! Ah, I know I am always
+talking about greatness--yet with me it exists only in the imagination.
+I am too base to be capable of what is really noble."
+
+"You see me now, as God Himself beholds me. He will judge me--but it is
+the privilege of marital love to forgive. Will you not use this sweet
+right? Perhaps God will show me some expedient. Perhaps I shall succeed
+in making an agreement with the relatives or gaining the aid of the
+king, but for all this I must live in the world--in order to secure
+influence and scope for my plans. Will you have patience and
+forbearance with me till there is a change?"
+
+"That will never be, any more than during the past eight years.
+But I will bear with you, poor wife; in spite of _everything_ I
+will trust your love, I will try to repress my discontent when you
+come and gratefully accept what you bestow, without remonstrance or
+fault-finding. I will bear it as long as I can. Perhaps--it will wear
+me out, then we shall both be released. I would have removed myself
+from the world long ago--but that would be a sin, and would not have
+benefited you. Your heart is too kind not to be wounded and the
+suicide's bloody shade would not have permitted you to enjoy your
+liberty."
+
+"Oh, Heaven, what are you saying! My poor husband, is that your
+condition?" cried the countess, deeply stirred by the tragedy of these
+calmly uttered words. She shuddered at this glimpse of the dark depths
+of his fathomless soul and what, in her opinion, he might lack in
+broadness of view was now supplied by the extent of his suffering; at
+this moment he again interested her. Throwing herself on his breast,
+she overwhelmed him with caresses. She sought to console him, make him
+forget the bitterness of his grief by the magic potion of her love. She
+herself did not know that even now--carried away by a genuine emotion
+of compassion--she was yielding to the demoniac charm of trying upon
+his pain the power of her coquetry, which she had long since tested
+sufficiently upon _human beings_. But where she would undoubtedly have
+succeeded with men of cultivation, she failed with this child of
+nature, who instinctively felt that this sweet display of tenderness
+was not meant for him but was called forth by the struggle against a
+hostile element which she desired to bribe or conquer. His grief
+remained unchanged; it was too deeply rooted to be dispelled by the
+love-raptures of a moment. Yet the poor husband, languishing for the
+wife so ardently beloved, took the poisoned draught she offered, as the
+thirsting traveller in the desert puts his burning lips to the tainted
+pool whence he knows he is drinking death.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX.
+
+                               CONFLICTS.
+
+
+It was morning! The lamp had almost burned out! Josepha and the
+countess were busied with the boy, whose sleep was disturbed by a
+short, dry cough. The mother had remained at the little castle all
+night and rested only a few hours. When with the little one there were
+times when her maternal affection was roused. Then she was seized with
+dread lest God should recall a precious gift because she had not known
+its value. It would be only just, she was aware of that--and because of
+its justice it seemed probable, and her heart strove to make amends in
+a few hours for the neglect of years. Perhaps thereby she might escape
+the punishment. But when she had gone, the little pale star in her
+horizon receded into the background before the motley phenomena of the
+world in which she lived, and only in isolated moments did she realize,
+by a dull pain, that feelings were slumbering within her soul which
+could not be developed--like a treasure which lies concealed in a spot
+whence it cannot be raised. It was akin to the parable of the servant
+who did not put out his talent at interest. This talent which God
+entrusted to men is _love_. A lofty noble sentiment which we suppress
+is the buried treasure which God will require of us, when the period
+for which He loaned it has expired. There were hours when the unhappy
+woman realized this. Then she accused everything--the world and
+herself! And the poor little child felt in his precocious soul the
+grief of the "beautiful lady," in whom he presciently loved his mother
+without knowing that it was she. Ordinary children, like animals, love
+best those who provide for their physical wants and therefore
+frequently cling more fondly to the nurse than to the mother. Not so
+this boy. He was almost ungrateful to Josepha, who nursed him the more
+faithfully, the more he was neglected by the countess.
+
+Josepha was passionately attached to the boy. All the sorrowful love
+which she had kept in her desolate heart for her own dead son was
+transferred from the first hour to this delicate, motherless creature.
+It reminded her so much of her own poor child: the marked family
+likeness between him and Freyer--the mystery with which he must be
+surrounded. A mother who was ashamed of him, like Josepha at the
+time--it seemed as though her own dead child had returned to life. And
+besides she passed for his mother.
+
+The boy was born while the countess was travelling in the East, and it
+was an easy matter to arrange with the authorities. The countess, while
+in Jerusalem, took the name of Josepha Freyer--Josepha that of Countess
+Wildenau, and the child was baptized under the name of Freyer. It was
+entered in the register as an illegitimate child, and Josepha bore the
+disgrace and returned to Germany as the boy's mother.
+
+What was lacking to complete Josepha's illusion that the child was
+hers, and that she might love it as a mother? Nothing, save the return
+of her affection. And this was a source of bitter pain. She might give
+and do what she would, devote her days and nights to him, sacrifice her
+already failing health--nothing availed. When after weeks and months of
+absence the "beautiful lady," as he called her, came, his melancholy
+eyes brightened and he seemed to glow with new life as he stretched
+out his little arms to her with a look that appeared to say: "Had
+you not come soon, I should have died!" Josepha no longer existed
+for him, and even his father, whom he usually loved tenderly as his
+god-father--"Goth," as the people in that locality call it--was
+forgotten. This vexed Josepha beyond endurance. She performed a
+mother's duties in all their weariness, her heart cherished a mother's
+love with all its griefs and cares and, when that other woman came, who
+deserved nothing, did nothing, had neither a mother's heart nor a
+mother's rights--she took the child away and Josepha had naught save
+the trouble and the shame! The former enjoyed hurriedly, lightly,
+carelessly, the joys which alone could have repaid Josepha's
+sacrifices, the child's sweet smiles, tender caresses, and coaxing
+ways, for which she would have given her life. She ground her sharp
+white teeth and a secret jealousy, bordering on hatred, took root in
+her embittered mind. What could she esteem in this woman? For what
+should she be grateful to her? She was kind to her--because she needed
+her services--but what did she care for Josepha herself! "She might
+give me less, but do her duty to her husband and child--that would suit
+me better," she secretly murmured. "To have such a child and not be a
+mother to him, not give him the sunshine, the warmth of maternal love
+which he needs--and then come and take away from another what she would
+not earn for herself."
+
+To have such a husband, the highest blessing Josepha knew on earth--a
+man to whom the whole world paid homage as if to God, a man so devout,
+so good, so modest, so faithful--and desert him, conceal him in a
+ruinous old castle that no one might note the disgrace of the noble
+lady who had married a poor wood-carver! And then to come and snatch
+the kisses from his lips as birds steal berries, when no one was
+looking, he was good enough for that! And he permitted it--the proud,
+stern man, whom the whole community feared and honored. It was enough
+to drive one mad.
+
+And she, Josepha, must swallow her wrath year after year--and dared not
+say anything--for woe betide her if she complained of the countess! He
+would allow no attack upon her--though this state of affairs was
+killing him. She was forced to witness how he grieved for this woman,
+see him gradually lose flesh and strength, for the wicked creature
+bewitched every one, and charmed her husband and child till they were
+fairly dying of love for her, while she was carrying on her shameless
+flirtations with others.
+
+Such were the terrible accusations raging in Josepha's passionate soul
+against the countess, charges which effaced the memory of all she owed
+her former benefactress.
+
+"I should like to know what she would do without me" was the constant
+argument of her ungrateful hatred. "She may well be kind to me--if I
+chose, her wicked pranks would soon be over. She would deserve it--and
+what do I care for the pay? I can look after myself, I don't need the
+ill-gotten gains. But--then I should be obliged to leave the boy--he
+would have no one. No, no, Josepha, hold out as long as possible--and
+be silent for the child's sake."
+
+Such were the conflicts seething in the breast of the silent dweller in
+the hunting-castle, such the gulfs yawning at the unsuspicious woman's
+feet.
+
+It was the vengeance of insulted popular morality, to which she
+imagined herself so far superior. This insignificant impulse in the
+progress of the development of mankind, insignificant because it was
+the special attribute of the humble plain people, will always conquer
+in the strife against the emancipation of so-called "more highly
+organized" natures, for it is the destiny of individual giants always
+to succumb in the war against ordinary mortals. Here there is a great,
+eternal law of the universe, which from the beginning gathered its
+contingent from the humble, insignificant elements, and in so-called
+"plebian morality" is rooted--Christianity. Therefore, the former
+will conquer and always assert its right, even where the little
+Philistine army, which gathers around its standard, defeats a far
+nobler foe than itself, a foe for whom the gods themselves would mourn!
+Woe betide the highly gifted individuality which unites with Philistine
+elements--gives them rights over it, and believes it can still pursue
+its own way--in any given case it will find pity before _God_, sooner
+than before the judgment seat of this literal service, and the spears
+and shafts of its yeomanry.
+
+Something like one of these lance-thrusts pierced the countess from
+Josepha's eyes, as she bent over the waking child.
+
+Josepha tried to take the boy, but he struggled violently and would not
+go to her. With sparkling, longing eyes he nestled in the arms of the
+"beautiful lady." The countess drew the frail little figure close to
+her heart. As she did so, she noticed the stern, resentful expression
+of Josepha's dry cracked lips and the hectic flush on the somewhat
+prominent cheek bones. There was something in the girl's manner which
+displeased her mistress. Had it been in her power, she would have
+dismissed this person, who "was constantly altering for the worse." But
+she was bound to her by indissoluble fetters, nay, was dependent upon
+her--and must fear her. She felt this whenever she came. Under such
+impressions, every visit to the castle had gradually become a penance,
+instead of a pleasure. Her husband, out of humor and full of
+reproaches, the child ill, the nurse sullen and gloomy. A spoiled child
+of the world, who had always had everything disagreeable removed from
+her path, could not fail at last to avoid a place where she could not
+breathe freely a single hour.
+
+"Will you not get the child's breakfast, Josepha?" she said wearily,
+the dark circles around her eyes bearing traces of her night vigil.
+
+"He must be bathed first!" said Josepha, in the tone which often
+wounded the countess--the tone by which nurses, to whose charge
+children are left too much, instruct young mothers that, "if they take
+no care of their little ones elsewhere, they have nothing to say in the
+nursery."
+
+The countess, with aristocratic self-control, struggled to maintain her
+composure. Then she said quietly, though her voice sounded faint and
+hoarse: "The child seems weak, I think it will be better to give him
+something to eat before washing him."
+
+"Yes," pleaded the little fellow, "I am thirsty." The words reminded
+the countess of his father, as he said on the cross: "I thirst." When
+these memories came, all the anguish of her once beautiful love--now
+perishing so miserably--overwhelmed her. She lifted the boy--he was
+light as a vapor, a vision of mist--from the bed into her lap, and
+wrapped his little bare feet in the folds of her morning dress. He
+pressed his little head, crowned with dark, curling locks, against her
+cheek. Such moments were sweet, but outweighed by too much bitterness.
+
+"Bring him some milk--fresh milk!" Madeleine von Wildenau repeated in the
+slightly imperious tone which seems to consider opposition impossible.
+
+"That will be entirely different from his usual custom," remarked
+Josepha, as if the countess' order had seriously interfered with the
+regular mode of life necessary to the child.
+
+The mother perceived this, and a faint flush of shame and indignation
+suffused her face, but instantly vanished, as if grief had consumed the
+wave of blood which wrath had stirred.
+
+"Is your mother--Josepha--kind to you?" she asked, when Josepha had
+left the room.
+
+The boy nodded carelessly.
+
+"She does not strike you, she is gentle?"
+
+"No, she doesn't strike me," the little fellow answered. "She loves
+me."
+
+"Do you love her, too?" the countess went on.
+
+"Wh--y--Yes!" said the child, shrugging his shoulders. Then he looked
+tenderly into her face. "I love you better."
+
+"That is not right, Josepha is your mother--you must love her best."
+
+The boy shook his head thoughtfully. "But I would rather have you for
+my mamma."
+
+"That cannot be--unfortunately--I must not."
+
+The child gazed at her with an expression of sorrowful disappointment.
+=At last he found an expedient. "But in Heaven--when I go to
+Heaven--_you_ will be my mother there, won't you?"
+
+The countess shuddered--an indescribable pain pierced her heart, yet
+she was happy, a blissful anguish! Tears streamed from her eyes and,
+clasping the child tenderly, she gently kissed him.
+
+"Yes, my child! In Heaven--perhaps I may be your mother!"
+
+Josepha now brought in the milk and wanted to give it to him, but the
+boy would not take it from her, he insisted that the countess must hold
+the bowl. She did so, but her hand trembled and Josepha was obliged to
+help her, or the whole contents would have been spilled. She averted
+her face.
+
+"She cannot even give her child anything to drink," thought Josepha, as
+she moved about the room, putting it in order.
+
+"Josepha, please leave me alone a little while," said the countess,
+almost beseechingly.
+
+"Indeed?" Josepha's cheeks flushed scarlet, it seemed as if the bones
+grew still more prominent. "If I am in your Highness' way--I can go at
+once."
+
+"Josepha!" said the countess, now suddenly turning toward her a face
+wet with tears. "Surely I might be allowed to spend fifteen minutes
+alone with my child without offending any one! I will forgive your
+words--on account of your natural jealousy--and I think you already
+regret them, do you not?"
+
+"Yes," replied Josepha, somewhat reluctantly, but so conquered by the
+unhappy mother's words that she pressed a hard half reluctant kiss upon
+the countess' hand with her rough, parched lips. Then, with a
+passionate glance at the child, she gave place to the mother whose
+claim she would fain have disputed before God Himself, if she could.
+
+But when the door had closed behind her, the countess could bear no
+more. Placing the child in his little bed, she flung herself sobbing
+beside it. "My child--my child, forgive me," she cried, forgetting all
+prudence "--pray for me to God."
+
+Just at that moment the door opened and Freyer entered. All that was
+stirring the mother's heart instantly became clear to him, as he saw
+her thus broken down beside the boy's bed.
+
+"Calm yourself--what will the child think!" he said, bending down and
+raising her.
+
+"Don't cry, Mamma!" said the boy, stroking the soft hair on the
+grief-bowed head. He did not know why he now suddenly called her
+"mamma"--perhaps it was a prospect of the heaven where she would be his
+mother, and he said it in advance.
+
+"Oh, Freyer, kill me--I am worthy of nothing better--cut short the
+battle of a wasted life! An animal which cannot recover is killed out
+of pity, why not a human being, who feels suffering doubly?"
+
+"Magdalena--Countess--I do not know you in this mood."
+
+"Nor do I know myself! What am I? What is a mother who is no mother--a
+wife who cannot declare herself a wife? A fish that cannot swim, a bird
+that cannot fly! We kill such poor crippled creatures out of sheer
+compassion. What kind of existence is mine? An egotist who nevertheless
+feels the pain of those whom she renders unhappy; an aristocrat who
+cannot exist outside of her own sphere and yet pines for the eternal
+verity of human nature; a coquette who trifles with hearts and yet
+would _die_ for a genuine feeling--these are my traits of character!
+Can there be anything more contradictory, more full of wretchedness?"
+
+"Let us go out of doors, Countess, such conversation is not fit for the
+child to hear."
+
+"Oh, he does not understand it."
+
+"He understands more than you believe, you do not know what questions
+he often asks--ah, you deprive yourself of the noblest joys by being
+unable to watch the remarkable development of this child."
+
+She nodded silently, absorbed in gazing at the boy.
+
+"Come, Countess, the sun has risen--the cool morning air will do you
+good, I will ring for Josepha to take the boy," he said quietly,
+touching the bell.
+
+The little fellow sat up in bed, his breathing was hurried and anxious,
+his large eyes were fixed imploringly on the countess: "Oh, mamma--dear
+mamma in Heaven--stay--don't go away."
+
+"Ah, if only I could--my child--how gladly I would stay here always.
+But I will come back again presently, I will only walk in the sunshine
+for half-an-hour."
+
+"Oh, I would like to go in the sunshine, too. Can't I go with you, and
+run about a little while?"
+
+"Not to-day, not until your cough is cured, my poor little boy! But
+I'll promise to talk and think of nothing but you until I return!
+Meanwhile Josepha shall wash and dress you, I don't understand
+that--Josepha can do it better."
+
+"Oh! yes, I'm good enough for that!" thought the girl, who heard the
+last words just as she entered.
+
+"My beautiful mamma has been crying, because she is a bird and can't
+fly--" said the child to Josepha with sorrowful sympathy. "But you
+can't fly either--nor I till we are angels--then we can!" He spread out
+his little arms like wings as if he longed to soar upward and away, but
+an attack of coughing made him sink back upon his pillows.
+
+The husband and wife looked at each other with the same sorrowful
+anxiety.
+
+The countess bent over the little bed as if she would fain stifle with
+kisses the cough that racked the little chest.
+
+"Mamma, it doesn't hurt--you must not cry," said the boy, consolingly.
+"There is a spider inside of my breast which tickles me--so I have to
+cough. But it will spin a big, big net of silver threads like those on
+the Christmas tree which will reach to Heaven, then I'll climb up on
+it!"
+
+The countess could scarcely control her emotion. Freyer drew her hand
+through his arm and led her out into the dewy morning.
+
+"You are so anxious about our secret and yet, if _I_ were not
+conscientious enough to help you guard it, you would betray yourself
+every moment, you are imprudent with the child, it is not for my own
+interest, but yours that I warn you. Do not allow your newly awakened
+maternal love to destroy your self-control in the boy's presence. Do
+not let him call you 'Mamma.' Poor mother--indeed I understand how this
+wounds you--but--it must be one thing or the other. If you cannot--or
+_will_ not be a mother to the child--you _must_ renounce this name."
+
+She bowed her head. "You are as cruel as ever, though you are right!
+How can I maintain my self-control, when I hear such words from the
+child? What a child he is! Whenever I come, I marvel at his
+intellectual progress! If only it is natural, if only it is not the
+omen of an early death!"
+
+Freyer pitied her anxiety,
+
+"It is merely because the child is reared in solitude, associating
+solely with two sorrowing people, Josepha and myself; it is natural
+that his young soul should develop into a graver and more thoughtful
+character than other children," he said, consolingly.
+
+They had gone out upon a dilapidated balcony, overgrown with vines and
+bushes. It was a beautiful morning, but the surrounding woods and the
+mouldering autumn leaves were white with hoar frost. Freyer wrapped the
+shivering woman in a cloak which he had taken with him. Under the cold
+breath of the bright fall morning, and her husband's cheering words,
+she gradually grew calm and regained her composure.
+
+"But something must be done with the child," she said earnestly.
+"Matters cannot go on so, he looks too ethereal.--I will send him to
+Italy with Josepha."
+
+"Good Heavens, then I shall be entirely alone!" said Freyer, with
+difficulty suppressing his dismay.
+
+"Yet it must be," replied the countess firmly.
+
+"How shall I endure it? The child was my all, my good angel--my light
+in darkness! Often his little hands have cooled my brow when the flames
+of madness were circling around it. Often his eyes, his features have
+again revealed your image clearly when, during a long separation, it
+had become blurred and distorted. While gazing at the child, the dear,
+beautiful child, I felt that nothing could sever this sacred bond. The
+mother of this boy could not desert her husband--for the sake of this
+child she must love me! I said to myself, and learned to trust, to
+hope, once more. And now I am to part from him. Oh, God!--Thy judgment
+is severe. Thou didst send an angel to comfort Thy divine son on the
+Mount of Olives--Thou dost take him from me! Yet not my will, but
+Thine, be done!"
+
+He bent his head sadly: "If it must be, take him."
+
+"The child is ill, I have kept him shut up in these damp rooms too
+long, he needs sunshine and milder air. If he were obliged to spend
+another winter in this cold climate, it would be his death. But if it
+is so hard for you to be separated from the boy--go with him. I will
+hire a villa for you and Josepha somewhere on the Riviera. It will do
+you good, too, to leave this nook hidden among the woods--and I cannot
+shelter you here in Bavaria where every one knows you, without
+betraying our relation."
+
+Freyer gazed at her with a mournful smile: "And you think--that I would
+go?" He shook his head. "No, I cannot make it so easy for you. We are
+still husband and wife, I am still yours, as you are mine. And though
+you so rarely come to me--if during the whole winter there was but a
+single hour when you needed a heart, you must find your husband's, I
+must be here!" He drew her gently to his breast. "No, my wife, it would
+have been a comfort, if I could have kept the child--but if you must
+take him from me, I will bear this, too, like everything which comes
+from your hand, be it life or death--nothing shall part me from you,
+not even love for my boy."
+
+There was something indescribable in the expression with which he gazed
+at her as he uttered the simple words, and she clung to him overwhelmed
+by such unexampled fidelity, which thus sacrificed the only, the last
+blessing he possessed for a _single_ hour with her.
+
+"My husband--my kind, noble husband! The most generous heart in all the
+world!" she cried, caressing him again and again as she gazed
+rapturously at the beautiful face, so full of dignity: "You shall not
+make the sacrifice for a single hour, your wife will come and reward
+your loyalty with a thousand-fold greater love. Often--often. Perhaps
+oftener than ever! For I feel that the present condition of affairs
+cannot last. I must be permitted to be wife and mother--I realized
+to-day at the bedside of my child that my _guilt_, too, was growing
+year by year. It is time for me to atone. When I return home I will
+seriously consider what can be done to make an arrangement with my
+relatives! I need not confess that I am already married--I could say
+that I might marry if they would pay me a sufficient sum, but I would
+_not_ do so, if they refused me the means to live in a style which
+befitted my rank. Then they will probably prefer to make a sacrifice
+which would enable me to marry, thereby giving them the whole property,
+rather than to compel me, by their avarice, to remain a widow and keep
+the entire fortune. That would be a capital idea! Do you see how
+inventive love is?" she said with charming coquetry, expecting his
+joyful assent.
+
+But he turned away with clouded brow--it seemed as though an icy wind
+had suddenly swept over the whole sunny landscape, transforming
+everything into a wintry aspect.
+
+"Falsehood and deception everywhere--even in the most sacred things.
+When I hear you speak so, my heart shrinks! So noble a woman as you to
+stoop to falsehood and deceit, like one of the basest!"
+
+The countess stood motionless, with downcast lids, shame and pride were
+both visible on her brow. Her heart, too, shrank, and an icy chill
+encompassed it.
+
+"And what better proposal would you make?"
+
+"None!" said Freyer in a low tone, "for the only one I could suggest
+you would not accept. It would be to atone for the wrong you have
+committed, frankly confess how everything happened, and then retire
+with your husband and child into solitude and live plainly, but
+honestly. The world would laugh at you, it is true, but the
+noble-hearted would honor you. I cannot imagine that any moral
+happiness is to be purchased by falsehood and deceit--there is but one
+way which leads to God--the way of truth--every other is delusive!"
+
+The beautiful woman gazed at him in involuntary admiration. This was
+the inward majesty by which the lowly man had formerly so awed her; and
+deeply as he shamed and wounded her, she bowed to this grandeur. Yet
+she could no longer bear his gaze, she felt humbled before him, her
+pleasure in his companionship was destroyed. She stood before the man
+whom she believed so far beneath her, like a common criminal, convicted
+of the most petty falsehood, the basest treachery. She fairly loathed
+herself. Where was there anything to efface this brand? Where was the
+pride which could raise her above this disgrace? In her consciousness
+of rank? Woe betide her, what would her peers say if they knew her
+position? Would she not be cast out from every circle? What was there
+which would again restore her honor? She knew no dignity, no honor save
+those which the world bestows, and to save them, at any cost and by any
+means--she sank still lower in her own eyes and those of the poor, but
+honorable man who had more cause to be ashamed of her than she of him.
+
+She must return home, she must again see her palace, her servants, her
+world, in order to believe that she was still herself, that the ground
+was still firm under her feet, for everything in and around her was
+wavering.
+
+"Please order the horses to be harnessed!" she said, turning toward the
+half ruined door through which they had come out of the house.
+
+It had indeed grown dull and cold. A pallid autumnal fog was shrouding
+the forest. It looked doubtful whether it was going to rain or snow.
+
+"I have the open carriage--I should like to get home before it rains,"
+she said, apologetically, without looking at him.
+
+Freyer courteously opened the heavy ancient iron door. They walked
+silently along a dark, cold, narrow passage to the door of the boy's
+room.
+
+"I will go and have the horses harnessed," said Freyer, and the
+countess entered the chamber.
+
+She took an absent leave of the child. She did not notice how he
+trembled at the news that she was going home, she did not hear him
+plead: "Take me with you!" She comforted him as usual with the promise
+that she would soon come again, and beckoned Josepha out of the room.
+The boy gazed after her with the expression of a dying roe, and a few
+large tears rolled down his pale cheeks. The mother saw it, but she
+could not remain, her stay here was over for that day. Outside she
+informed Josepha of the plan of sending her and the child to Italy, but
+the latter shook her head.
+
+"The child needs nothing but its mother," she said, pitilessly, "it
+longs only for _you_, and if you send it still farther away, it will
+die."
+
+The countess stood as if sentenced.
+
+"When you are with him, he revives, and when you have gone, he droops
+like a flower without the sun!"
+
+"Oh Heaven!" moaned the countess, pressing her clasped hands to her
+brow: "What is to be done!"
+
+"If you could take the boy, it would be the best cure. The child need's
+a mother's love; that would be more beneficial to him than all the
+travelling in the world. You have no idea how he clings to his mother.
+It really seems as if you had bewitched him. All day long he wears
+himself out listening and watching for the roll of the carriage, and
+when evening comes and the hour that you usually drive up arrives, his
+little hands are burning with fever from expectation. And then he sees
+how his father longs for you. A child like him notices everything and,
+when his father is sad, he is sorrowful, too. 'She is not coming
+to-day!' he said a short time ago, stroking his father's cheek; he knew
+perfectly well what troubled him. A delicate little body like his is
+soon worn out by constant yearning. Every kid, every fawn, cries for
+its mother. Here in the woods I often hear the young deer, whose mother
+has been shot, wail and cry all night long, and must not a child who
+has sense and affection long for its mother? You sit in your beautiful
+rooms at home and don't hear how up here in this dreary house with us
+two melancholy people, the poor child asks for the mother who is his
+all."
+
+"Josepha, you will kill me!"
+
+The countess clung to the door-post for support, her brain fairly
+whirled.
+
+"No, I shall not kill you, Countess, I only want to prevent your
+killing the child," said Josepha with flaming eyes. "Do you suppose
+that, if I could supply a mother's place to the boy, I would beg you
+for what is every child's right, and which every mother who has a
+mother's heart in her breast would give of her own accord? Certainly
+not. I would _steal_ the child's heart, which you are starving--ere I
+would give you one kind word, and you might beg in vain for your son's
+love, as I now beseech his mother's for him. But the poor little fellow
+knows very well who his mother is, and no matter what I do--he will not
+accept me! That is why I tell you just how matters are. Do what you
+choose with me--I no longer fear anything--if the child cannot be saved
+I am done with the world! You know me--and know that I set no value on
+life. You have made it no dearer to me than it was when we first met."
+
+Just at that moment the door opened and a small white figure appeared.
+The boy had heard Josepha's passionate tone and came to his mother's
+assistance: "Mamma, my dear mamma in Heaven, what is she doing to you?
+She shan't hurt you. Wicked mamma Josepha, that's why I don't like you,
+you are always scolding the beautiful, kind lady."
+
+He threw his little arm around his mother's neck, as if to protect her.
+
+"Oh, you angel!" cried the countess, lifting him in her arms to press
+him to her heart.
+
+The rattle of wheels was heard outside--the countess' four horses were
+coming. To keep the fiery animals waiting was impossible. Freyer
+hastily announced the carriage, the horses were very unruly that day.
+The countess gave the boy to Josepha's care. Freyer silently helped her
+into the equipage, everything passed like a flash of lightning for the
+horses were already starting--one gloomy glace was exchanged between
+the husband and wife--the farewell of strangers--and away dashed the
+light vehicle through the autumn mists. The mother fancied she heard
+her boy weeping as she drove off, and felt as if Josepha had convicted
+her of the murder of the child. But she would atone for it--some
+day--soon! It seemed as if a voice within was crying aloud: "My child,
+my child!" An icy moisture stood in drops upon her brow; was it the
+sweat of anxiety, or dew? She did not know, she could no longer think,
+she was sinking under all the anxieties which had pressed upon her that
+day. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the carriage as if
+fainting, while the horses rushed swiftly on with their light burden
+toward their goal.
+
+The hours flew past. The equipage drove up to the Wildenau palace, but
+she was scarcely conscious of it. All sorts of plans and resolutions
+were whirling through her brain. She was assisted from the carriage and
+ascended the carpeted marble stairs. Two letters were lying on the
+table in her boudoir. The prince had been there and left one, a note,
+which contained only the words: "You will perceive that at the present
+time you _dare_ not refuse this position.
+
+                             "_The friend who means most kindly_."
+
+The other letter, in a large envelope, was an official document.
+Countess Wildenau had been appointed mistress of ceremonies!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI.
+
+                             UNACCOUNTABLE.
+
+
+A moment--and a turning point in a life!
+
+The countess was "herself" again, as she called it. "Thank God!"
+
+The Ammergau episode--with all its tragic consequences--belonged to the
+past. To-day, under the emotional impressions and external
+circumstances at that luckless castle, where everything conspired
+against her, she had thought seriously of breaking with her traditions
+and the necessities of life, faced the thought of poverty and shame so
+boldly that this appointment to the highest position at court saved her
+from the gulf of ruin. Stopped at the last moment, tottering, giddy,
+the startled woman sought to find a firm footing once more. She felt
+like a suicide, who is not really in earnest, and rejoices when some
+one prevents his design.
+
+She stood holding the document in her hand. This was truth, reality,
+the necessity for self-destruction was imagination. The disgrace whose
+brand she already felt upon her brow could no longer approach her!
+
+She set her foot upon the shaggy skin of a lion--the earth did not yet
+reel beneath her. She pressed her burning brow against a slender marble
+column--this, too, was still firm! She passed her slender fingers over
+the silk plush of the divan on which she reclined and rejoiced that it
+was still hers. Her eye, intoxicated with beauty, wandered over the
+hundreds of art-treasures, pictures and statues from every land with
+which she had adorned her rooms--nothing was lacking. Upon a pedestal
+stood the Apollo Belvedere, whose pure marble glowed warmly in a
+sunbeam shining through red curtains, as if real blood were circulating
+in the stone. The wondrous face smiled in divine repose upon the motley
+array, which the art and industry of centuries had garnered here.
+
+The past and the present here closed their bewitching chain. Yonder
+stood a Venus de Milo, revealing to the charming owner the majesty of
+her own beauty. In a corner filled with flowers, a bathing nymph, by a
+modern master, timidly concealed herself. In a Gothic niche a dying
+Christ closed his eyes to the splendor of the world and the senses.
+It was a Christ after the manner of Gabriel Max, which opened and
+shut its eyes. Not far away the portrait of the countess, painted
+with the genius of Lenbach stood forth from the dark frame--the
+type of a drawing-room blossom. Clad in a soft white robe of Oriental
+stuff embroidered with gold, heavy enough to cling closely to the
+figure--flight enough to float away so far as to reveal all that
+fashion and propriety permitted to be seen of the beauty of a wonderful
+neck and arm. And, as Lenbach paints not only the outward form but the
+inward nature, a tinge of melancholy, of yearning and thoughtfulness
+rested upon the fair face, which made the beholder almost forget the
+beauty of the form in that of the soul, while gazing into the spiritual
+eyes which seemed to seek some other home than this prosaic earth. Just
+in the direction of her glance, Hermes, the messenger of death, bent
+his divine face from a group of palms and dried grasses. It seemed as
+if she beheld all these things for the first time--as if they had been
+newly given back to her that day after she had believed them lost. Her
+breath almost failed at the thought that she had been on the point of
+resigning it all--and for what? All these treasures of immortal beauty
+and art--for a weeping child and a surly man, who loved in her only the
+housewife, which any maid-servant can be, but understood what she
+really was, what really constituted her dignity and charm no more than
+he would comprehend Lenbach's picture, which reflected to her her own
+person transfigured and ennobled. She gazed at herself with proud
+satisfaction. Should such a woman sacrifice herself to a man who
+scarcely knew the meaning of beauty! Destroy herself for an illusion of
+the imagination? She rang the bell--she felt the necessity of ordering
+something, to be sure that she was still mistress of the house.
+
+The lackey entered. "Your Highness?"
+
+Thank Heaven! Her servants still obeyed her.
+
+"Send over to the Barnheim Palace, and invite the Prince to dine with
+me at six. Then serve lunch."
+
+"Very well. Has Your Highness any other orders?"
+
+"The maid."
+
+"Yes, Your Highness."
+
+The man left the room with the noiseless, solemn step of a well-trained
+lackey.
+
+"How can any one live without servants?" the countess asked herself,
+looking after him. "What should I have done, if I had dismissed mine?"
+She shuddered. Now that regal luxury again surrounded her she was a
+different person from this morning. No doubt she still felt what she
+had suffered that day, but only as we dimly, after waking from a
+fevered dream, realize the tortures we have endured.
+
+Some one knocked, and the maid entered.
+
+"I will take a bath before lunch. I feel very ill. Pour a bottle of
+_vinaigre de Bouilli_ into the water. I will come directly."
+
+The maid disappeared.
+
+Everything still went on like clock-work. Nothing had changed--no one
+noticed what she had _almost_ done that day. The struggle was over. The
+royal order, which it would have been madness to oppose, had determined
+her course.
+
+But her nerves were still quivering from the experiences of the day.
+
+The child, if only she were not hampered by the child! That was the
+only thing which would not allow her to breathe freely--it was her own
+flesh and blood. That was the wound in her heart which could never be
+healed. She would always long for the boy--as he would for her. Yet,
+what did this avail, nothing could be changed, she must do what reason
+and necessity required. At least for the present; nay, there was even
+something beautiful in a sorrow borne with aristocratic dignity! By the
+depth of the wound, we proudly measure the depth of our own hearts.
+
+She pleased herself with the idea of doing the honors as mistress of
+ceremonies to kings and emperors, while yearning in the depths of
+her soul for a poor orphaned child, the son of the proud Countess
+Wildenau--whose husband was a peasant. Only a nature of the elasticity
+of Madeleine von Wildenau's could sink so low and yet soar so high,
+without losing its equilibrium.
+
+These were the oscillations which Ludwig Gross once said were necessary
+to such natures--though their radii passed through the lowest gulfs of
+human misery to the opposite heights. Coquetry is not only cruel to
+others, but to itself--in the physical tortures which it endures for
+the sake of an uncomfortable fashion, and the spiritual ones with which
+it pays for its triumphs.
+
+This was the case with the countess. During her first unhappy marriage
+she had learned to control the most despairing moods and be "amusing"
+with an aching heart. What marvel that she deemed it a matter of course
+that she must subdue the gnawing grief of her maternal love. So she
+coquetted even with suffering and found pleasure in bearing it
+gracefully.
+
+She sat down at her writing-desk, crowned with Canova's group of Cupid
+and Psyche, and wrote:
+
+"My dear husband! In my haste I can only inform you that I shall be
+unable to come out immediately to arrange Josepha's journey. I have
+been appointed mistress of ceremonies to the queen and must obey the
+summons. Meanwhile, let Josepha prepare for the trip, I will send the
+directions for the journey and the money to-day. Give the boy my love,
+kiss him for me, and comfort him with the promise that I will visit him
+in the Riviera when I can. Amid the new scenes he will soon forget me
+and cease waiting and expecting. The Southern climate will benefit his
+health, and we shall have all the more pleasure in him afterward. He
+must remain there at least a year to regain his strength.
+
+"I write hastily, for many business matters and ceremonies must be
+settled within the next few days. It is hard for me to accept this
+position, which binds me still more closely in the fetters I was on the
+eve of stripping off! But to make the king and queen my enemies at the
+very moment when I need powerful friends more than ever, would be
+defying fate! It will scarcely be possible for me now to come out as
+often as I promised you to-day. But, if you become too lonely, you
+can occasionally come in as my 'steward,' ostensibly to bring me
+reports--in this way we shall see each other and I will give orders
+that the steward shall be admitted to me at any time, and have a
+suitable office and apartments assigned to him 'as I shall now be
+unable to look after the estates so much myself.'
+
+"If I cannot receive you at once, you will wait in your room until your
+wife, freed from the restraint and duties of the day, will fly to your
+arms.
+
+"Is not this admirably arranged? Are you at last satisfied, you
+discontented man?
+
+"You see that I am doing all that is possible! Only do not be angry
+with me because I also do what reason demands. I must secure to my
+child the solid foundations of a safe and well-ordered existence, since
+we must not, for the sake of sentiment, aimlessly shatter our own
+destiny. How would it benefit the sick child if I denounced myself and
+was compelled to give up the whole of my private fortune to compensate
+my first husband's relatives for what I have spent illegally since
+my second marriage? I could not even do anything more for my son's
+health, and should be forced to see him pine away in some mountain
+hamlet--perhaps Ammergau itself, whither I should wander with my
+household goods and you, like some vagrant's family. The boys there
+would stone him and call him in mockery, the 'little Count.' The
+snow-storms would lash him and completely destroy his delicate lungs.
+
+"No, if I did not fear poverty for _myself_, I must do so for _you_.
+How would you endure to have the Ammergau people--and where else could
+you find employment--point their fingers at you and say: 'Look, that is
+Freyer, who ran away with a countess! He did a fine thing'--and then
+laugh jeeringly.
+
+"My Joseph! Keep your love for me, and let me have judgment for you,
+then all will be well. In love,
+                                                     Your M."
+
+She did not suspect, when she ended her letter, very well satisfied
+with her dialectics, that Freyer after reading it would throw the torn
+fragments on the floor.
+
+This cold, frivolous letter--this change from the mood of
+yesterday--this act after all her promises! He had again been deceived
+and disappointed, again hoped and believed in vain. All, all on which
+he had relied was destroyed, the moral elevation of his beloved wife,
+which would at last restore to her husband and child their sacred
+rights--was a lie, and instead, by way of compensation, came the
+offer--of the position of a lover.
+
+He was to seek his wife under the cover of the darkness, as a man seeks
+his inamorata--he, her husband, the father of her child! "No, Countess,
+the steward will not steal into your castle, in order when you have
+enjoyed all the pleasures of the day, to afford you the excitement of a
+stolen intrigue.
+
+"Though the scorn and derision of the people of my native village would
+wound me sorely, as you believe--I would rather work with them as a
+day-laborer, than to play before your lackeys the part which you assign
+me." This was his only answer. He was well aware that it would elicit
+only a shrug of the shoulders, and a pitying smile, but he could not
+help it.
+
+It was evening when the countess' letter reached him, and while, by the
+dim light of the hanging lamp, in mortal anguish he composed at the
+bedside of the feverish child this clumsy and unfortunately mis-spelled
+reply, the folding-doors of the brilliantly lighted dining-room in the
+Wildenau palace, were thrown open and the prince offered his arm to the
+countess.
+
+She was her brilliant self again. She had taken a perfumed bath,
+answered the royal letter, made several sketches for new court costumes
+and sent them to Paris.
+
+She painted with unusual skill, and the little water-color figures
+which she sent to her modistes, were real works of art, far superior to
+those in the fashion journals.
+
+"Your Highness might earn your bread in this way"--said the maid
+flatteringly, and a strange thrill stirred the countess at these words.
+She had made herself a costume book, in which she had painted all the
+toilettes she had worn since her entrance into society, and often found
+amusement in turning the leaves; what memories the sight of the old
+clothes evoked! From the heavy silver wrought brocade train of old
+Count Wildenau's young bride, down to the airy little summer gown which
+she had worn nine years ago in Ammergau. From the stiff, regulation
+court costume down to the simple woolen morning gown in which she had
+that morning spent hours of torture on account of that Ammergau
+"delusion." But at the maid's words she shut the book as if startled
+and rose: "I will give you the dress I wore this morning, but on
+condition that I never see it."
+
+"Your Highness is too kind, I thank you most humbly," said the
+delighted woman, kissing the sleeve of the countess' combing-mantle--she
+would not have ventured to kiss her hand.
+
+The dinner toilette was quickly completed, and when the countess looked
+in the glass she seemed to herself more beautiful than ever. The
+melancholy expression around her eyes, and a slight trace of tears
+which she had shed, lent the pale tea-rose a tinge of color which was
+marvellously becoming.
+
+The day was over, and when the prince came to dinner at six o'clock she
+received him with all her former charm.
+
+"To whom do I owe this--Prince?" she said smiling, holding out the
+official letter.
+
+"Why do you ask me?"
+
+"Because _you_ only can tell!"
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes, you. Who else would have proposed me to their Majesties? Don't
+try to deceive me by that air of innocence. I don't trust it. You, and
+no one else would do me this friendly service, for everything good
+comes through you. You are not only a great and powerful man--you are
+also a good and noble one--my support, my Providence! I thank you."
+
+She took both his hands in hers and offered him her forehead to kiss,
+with a glance of such sincere admiration and gratitude, that in his
+surprise and joy he almost missed the permitted goal and touched her
+lips instead. But fortunately, he recollected himself and almost
+timidly pressed the soft curls which quivered lightly like the delicate
+tendrils of flowers.
+
+"I cannot resist this gratitude! Yes, my august cousin, the queen, did
+have the grace to consider my proposal as 'specially agreeable' to her.
+But, my dear Countess, you must have been passing through terrible
+experiences to lavish such undue gratitude upon the innocent instigator
+of such a trifle as this appointment as mistress of ceremonies, for
+whose acceptance we must be grateful to you. There is a touch of almost
+timidity in your manner, my poor Madeleine, as if you had lost the
+self-control which, with all your feminine grace, gave your bearing so
+firm a poise. You do yourself injustice. You must shake off this
+oppression. That is why I ventured to push the hands of the clock of
+life a little and secured this position, which will leave you no time
+for torturing yourself with fancies. That is what you need most.
+Unfortunately I cannot lift from those beautiful shoulders the burden
+you yourself have probably laid upon them; but I will aid you
+gradually, to strip it off.
+
+"The world in which you are placed needs you--you must live for it and
+ought not to withdraw your powers, your intellect, your charm. You are
+created for a lofty position! I do not mean a subordinate one--that of
+a mistress of ceremonies. This is merely a temporary palliative--I mean
+that of a reigning princess, who has to provide for the physical and
+intellectual welfare of a whole nation. When in your present office you
+have become reconciled to the world and its conditions--perhaps the day
+will come when I shall be permitted to offer you that higher place!"
+
+The countess stood with her hands resting on the table and her eyes
+bent on the floor. Her heart was throbbing violently--her breath was
+short and hurried. _One_ thought whirled through her brain. "You might
+have had all this and forfeited it forever!" The consciousness of her
+marred destiny overwhelmed her with all its power. What a contrast
+between the prince, the perfect product of culture, who took into
+account all the demands of her rank and character, and the narrow,
+limited child of nature, her husband, who found cause for reproach in
+everything which the trained man of the world regarded as a matter of
+course. Freyer tortured her and humbled her in her own eyes, while the
+prince tenderly cherished her. Freyer--like the embodiment of Christian
+asceticism--required from her everything she disliked while Prince Emil
+desired nothing save to see her beautiful, happy, and admired, and made
+it her duty to enjoy life as suited her education and tastes! She would
+fain have thrown herself exultingly into the arms of her preserver and
+said: "Take me and bear me up again on the waves of life ere I fall
+into the power of that gloomy God whose power is nurtured on the blood
+of the murdered joys of His followers."
+
+Suddenly it seemed as if some one else was in the room gazing intently
+at her. She looked up--the eyes of the Christ in the Gothic niche were
+bent fixedly on her. "Are you looking at me again?" asked a voice in
+her terror-stricken soul. "Can you never die?"
+
+It was even so; He could not die on the cross, He cannot die in her
+heart. Even though it was but a moment that He appeared to mortal eyes
+in the Passion Play, He will live for ever to all who experienced that
+moment.
+
+Her uplifted arms fell as if paralyzed, and she faltered in broken
+sentences: "Not another word, Prince--in Heaven's name--do not lead me
+into temptation. Banish every thought of me--you do not know--oh! I was
+never worthy of you, have never recognized all your worth--and now when
+I do--now it is too late." She could say no more, tears were trembling
+on her lashes. She again glanced timidly at the painted Christ--He had
+now closed His eyes. His expression was more peaceful.
+
+The prince gazed at her earnestly, but quietly. "Ah, there is a false
+standpoint which must be removed. It will cost something, I see. Calm
+yourself--you have nothing more to fear from me--I was awkward--it was
+not the proper moment, I ought to have known it. Do you remember our
+conversation nine years ago, on the way to the Passion Play? At that
+time a phantom stood between us. It has since assumed a tangible form,
+has it not? I saw this coming, but unfortunately could not avert it.
+But consider--it is and will always remain--a phantom! Such spectres
+can be fatal only to eccentric imaginative women like you who, in
+addition to imagination, also possess a strongly idealistic tendency
+which impresses an ethical meaning upon everything they feel. With a
+nature like yours things which, in and of themselves, are nothing
+except romantic episodes, assume the character of moral conflicts in
+which you always feel that you are the guilty ones because you were the
+superior and have taken a more serious view of certain relations than
+they deserved."
+
+"Yes, yes! That is it. Oh, Prince--you understand me better than any
+one else!" exclaimed the countess, admiringly.
+
+"Yes, and because I understand you better than any one else, I love you
+better than any one else--that is the inevitable consequence. Therefore
+it would be a pity, if I were obliged to yield to that phantom--for
+never were two human beings so formed for each other as we." He was
+silent, Madeleine had not heard the last words. In her swift variations
+of mood reacting with every changing impression, a different feeling
+had been evoked by the word "phantom" and the memories it awakened.
+Even the cleverest man cannot depend upon a woman. The phantom again
+stood between them--conjured up by himself.
+
+As if by magic, the Kofel with its glittering cross rose before her,
+and opposite at her right hand the glimmering sunbeams stole up the
+cliff till, like shining fingers, they rested on a face whose like she
+had never seen--the eyes, dark yet sparkling, like the night when the
+star led the kings to the child in the manger! There he stood again,
+the One so long imagined, so long desired.
+
+And her enraptured eyes said: "Throughout the whole world I have
+sought you alone." And his replied: "And I you!" And was this to be a
+lie--this to vanish? It seemed as if Heaven had opened its gates and
+suffered her to look in, and was all this to be delusion? The panorama
+of memory moved farther on, leading her past the dwellings of the high
+priest and apostles in Ammergau to the moonlit street where her ear,
+listening reverently, caught the words: This is where Christus lives!
+And she stood still with gasping breath, trembling with expectation of
+the approach of God.
+
+Then the following day--the great day which brought the fulfilment of
+the mighty yearning when she beheld this face "from which the God so
+long sought smiled upon her!" The God whom she had come to seek, to
+confess! What! Could she deny, resign this God, in whose wounds she had
+laid her fingers.
+
+Again she stood in timid reverence, with a glowing heart, while before
+her hovered the pierced, bleeding hand--Heaven and earth turned upon
+the question whether she dared venture to press her lips upon the
+stigma; she did venture, almost swooning from the flood of her
+feelings--and lo, in the kiss the quivering lips felt the throbbing of
+the warm awakening life in the hand of the stern "God," and a feeling
+of exultation stirred within her, "You belong to me! I will steal you
+from the whole human race." And now, scarcely nine years later--must
+the joy vanish, the God disappear, the faith die? What a miserable,
+variable creature is man!
+
+"Dinner is served, and Baron St. Génois has called--shall I prepare
+another place?"
+
+The countess started from her reverie--had she been asleep where she
+stood? Where was she?
+
+The lackey was obliged to repeat the announcement and the question. A
+visitor now? She would rather die--yet Baron St. Génois was an intimate
+friend, he could come to dinner whenever he pleased--he was not to be
+sent away.
+
+She nodded assent to the servant. Her emotions were repressed and
+scattered, her throbbing heart sank feebly back to its usual
+pulsation--pallid despair whispered: "Give up the struggle--you cannot
+be saved!"
+
+A few minutes after the little party were celebrating in the
+brilliantly lighted dining-room in sparkling sack the "event of the
+day," the appointment of the new mistress of ceremonies.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII.
+
+                             FALLING STARS.
+
+
+"The new mistress of ceremonies isn't popular."
+
+"Countess Wildenau is said to have fallen into disgrace already; she
+did not ride in the queen's carriage at the recent great parade."
+
+"That is perfectly natural. It was to be expected, when a lady so
+unaccustomed to put any constraint upon herself as Countess Wildenau
+was appointed to such a position."
+
+"She is said to make constant blunders. If she chooses, she keeps the
+queen and the whole court waiting. She is reported to have arrived at
+court fifteen minutes too late a short time ago."
+
+"And to have forgotten to present a number of ladies."
+
+"People are indignant with her."
+
+"Poor woman, she takes infinite trouble, but the place is not a
+suitable one for her--she is absent-minded and makes mistakes, which
+are unpardonable in a mistress of ceremonies."
+
+"Yes, if the queen's cousin, the Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim
+did not uphold her, the queen would have dropped her long ago. She is
+seen at court only when she is acting as representative. She has not
+succeeded in establishing personal relations with Her Majesty."
+
+Such, at the end of a few months, were the opinions of society, and
+they were just.
+
+It seemed as though the curse of those whom she had deserted, rested
+upon her--do what she would, she had no success in this position.
+
+As on the mountain peak towering into the upper air, every warm current
+condenses into a cloud, so in the cool, transparent atmosphere of very
+lofty and conspicuous positions the faintest breath of secret struggles
+and passions seems to condense into masses of clouds which often gather
+darkly around the most brilliant personalities, veiling their traits.
+The passionate, romantic impulse, which was constantly at war with the
+aristocratic birth and education of the countess, was one of those
+currents which unconsciously and involuntarily must enter as an alien
+element in the crystalline clearness of these peaks of society.
+
+This was the explanation of the mystery that the countess, greatly
+admired in private life and always a welcome guest at court, could not
+fill an official position successfully. The slight cloud which, in her
+private life, only served to surround her with a halo of romance which
+rendered the free independent woman of rank doubly interesting, was
+absolutely unendurable in a lady of the court representing her
+sovereign! There everything must be clear, calm, official. The
+impersonal element of royalty, as it exists in our day, specially in
+the women of reigning houses, will not permit any individuality to make
+itself prominent near the throne. All passionate emotions and
+peculiarities are abhorrent, because, even in individuals, they are
+emanations of the seething popular elements which sovereigns must at
+once rule and fear.
+
+Countess Wildenau's constant excitement, restless glances, absence
+of mind, and feverish alternations of mood unconsciously expressed
+the vengeance of the spirit of the common people insisted in her
+husband--and the queen, in her subtle sensibility, therefore had a
+secret timidity and aversion to the new mistress of ceremonies which
+she could not conquer. Thus the first mists in the atmosphere near the
+throne arose, the vapors gathered into clouds--but the clouds were seen
+by the keen-eyed public--as the sun of royal favor vanished behind
+them.
+
+It is far better never to have been prominent than to be forced to
+retire. The countess was a great lady, whose power seemed immovable and
+unassailable, so long as she lived independently--now it was seen that
+she was on the verge of a downfall! And now there was no occasion for
+further consideration of the woman hitherto so much envied. Vengeance
+could fearlessly be taken upon her for always having handsomer
+toilettes, giving better dinners, attracting more admirers--and being
+allowed to do unpunished what would be unpardonable in others.
+
+"A woman who is continually occupied with herself cannot be mistress of
+ceremonies, I see that clearly," she said one day to the prince. "If
+any position requires self-denial, it is this. And self-denial has
+never been my forte. I ought to have known that before accepting the
+place. People imagine that the court would be the very field where the
+seeds of egotism would flourish most abundantly! It is not true;
+whoever wishes to reap for himself should remain aloof, only the utmost
+unselfishness, the most rigid fulfilment of duty can exist there. But
+I, Prince, am a spoiled, ill-trained creature, who learned nothing
+during the few years of my unhappy marriage save to hate constraint and
+shun pain! What is to be done with such a useless mortal?"
+
+"Love her," replied Prince Emil, as quietly as if he were speaking of a
+game of chess, "and see that she is placed in a position where she need
+not obey, but merely command. Natures created to rule should not serve!
+The pebble is destined to pave the path of daily life--the diamond to
+sparkle. Who would upbraid the latter because it serves no other
+purpose? Its value lies in itself, but only connoisseurs know how to
+prize it!" Thus her friend always consoled her and strengthened her
+natural tendencies. But where men are too indulgent to us, destiny is
+all the more severe--this is the amends for the moral sins of society,
+the equalization of the undeserved privileges of individuals compared
+with the sad fate of thousands.
+
+Prince Emil's efforts could not succeed in soothing the pangs of
+Madeleine von Wildenau's conscience--for he did not know the full
+extent of her guilt. If he knew all, she would lose him, too.
+
+Josepha took care to torture the mother's heart by the reports sent
+from Italy.
+
+Freyer was silent. Since that bitter letter, which he wrote, she had
+heard nothing more from him. He had hidden himself in his solitary
+retreat as a sick lion seeks the depths of its cave, and she dared not
+go to him there, though a secret yearning often made her start from her
+sleep with her husband's name on her lips, and tears in her eyes.
+
+In addition to this she was troubled by Herr Wildenau, who was becoming
+still more urgent in his offers to purchase the hunting-castle, and
+often made strangely significant remarks, as though he was on the track
+of some discovery. The child with the treacherous resemblance was far
+away--but if this man was watching--_that_ fact itself might attract
+his notice because it dated from the day when he made the first
+allusions. She lay awake many nights pondering over this mystery, but
+could not discover what had given him the clew to her secret. She did
+not suspect that it was the child himself who, in an unwatched moment,
+had met the curious stranger and made fatal answers to his cunning
+questions, telling him of "the beautiful lady who came to see 'Goth'
+who had been God--in Ammergau! And that he loved the beautiful lady
+dearly--much better than Mother Josepha!"
+
+Question and answer were easy, but the inference was equally so. It was
+evident to the inquisitor that a relation existed here quite
+compromising enough to serve as a handle against the countess, if the
+exact connection could be discovered. Cousin Wildenau and his brother
+resolved from that day forth to watch the countess' mysterious actions
+sharply--this was the latest and most interesting sport of the
+disinherited branch of the Wildenau family.
+
+But the game they were pursuing had a powerful protector in the prince,
+they must work slowly and cautiously.
+
+At court also it was his influence which sustained her. The queen, out
+of consideration for him, showed the utmost patience in dealing with
+the countess spite of her total absence of sympathy with her. Thus the
+unfortunate woman lived in constant uncertainty. Her soul was filled
+with bitterness by the experiences she now endured. She felt like
+dagger thrusts the malevolence, the contempt with which she had been
+treated since the sun of royal favor had grown dim. She lost her
+self-command, and no longer knew what she was doing. Her pride
+rebelled. A Wildenau, a Princess von Prankenberg, need not tolerate
+such treatment! Her usual graciousness deserted her and, in its place,
+she assumed a cold, haughty scorn, which she even displayed while
+performing the duties of her office, and thereby still more incensed
+every one against her. Persons, whom she ought to have honored she
+ignored. Gradations of rank and lists of noble families, the alpha and
+omega of a mistress of ceremonies, were never in her mind. People
+entitled to the first position were relegated to the third, and similar
+blunders were numerous. Complaints and annoyances of all kinds poured
+in, and at a state dinner in honor of the visit of a royal prince, she
+was compelled to endure, in the presence of the whole court, a rebuke
+from the queen who specially distinguished a person whom she had
+slighted.
+
+This dinner became fateful to her. Wherever she turned, she beheld
+triumphant or sarcastic smiles--wherever she approached a group,
+conversation ceased with the marked suddenness which does not seek to
+conceal that the new-comer has been the subject of the talk. Nay, she
+often encountered a glance which seemed to say: "Why do you still
+linger among us?"
+
+It happened also that the prince had been summoned to Cannes by his
+father's illness and was not at hand to protect her. She had hoped that
+he would return in time for the dinner, but he did not come. She was
+entirely deserted. A few compassionate souls, like the kind-hearted
+duchess whom she met at the Passion Play, her ladies-in-waiting, and
+some maids of honor, joined her, but she felt in their graciousness a
+pity which humbled her more than all the insults. And her friends! The
+gentlemen who belonged to the circle of her intimate acquaintances had
+for some time adopted a more familiar tone, as if to imply that she
+must accept whatever they choose to offer. She was no longer even
+beautiful--a pallid, grief-worn face, with hollow eyes gazing
+hopelessly into vacancy, found no admirers in this circle. And as every
+look, every countenance wore a hostile expression, her own image gazed
+reproachfully at her from the mirror, the dazzling fair neck with its
+marvellous contours, supported a head whose countenance was weary and
+prematurely aged. "It is all over with you!" cried the mirror! "It
+is all over with you!" smiled the lips of society. "It is all over
+with you, you may be glad if we still come to your dinners!" the
+wine-scented breath of her former intimate friends insultingly near her
+seemed to whisper.
+
+Was this the world, to which she had sacrificed her heart and
+conscience? Was this the honor for which she hourly suffered tortures.
+And on the wintry mountain height the husband who had naught on earth
+save the paltry scrap of love she bestowed, was perishing--she had
+avoided him for months because to her he represented that uncomfortable
+Christianity whose asceticism has survived the civilization of
+thousands of years. Yes! This christianity of the Nazarene who walked
+the earth so humbly in a laborer's garb is the friend of the despised
+and humbled. It asks no questions about crowns and the favor of courts,
+human power and distinction. And she who had trembled and sinned for
+the wretched illusions, the glitter of the honors of this brief
+life--was she to despise a morality which, in its beggar's garb, stands
+high above all for which the greatest and most powerful tremble?
+Again the symbol of the renewed bond between God and the world--the
+cross--rose before her, and on it hung the body of the Redeemer,
+radiant in its chaste, divine beauty--that body which for _her_
+descended from the cross where it hung for the whole world and, after
+clasping it in her arms, she repined because it was only the _image_ of
+what no earthly desire will ever attain, no matter how many human
+hearts glow with the flames of love so long as the world endures.
+
+"My Christus--my sacrificed husband!" cried a voice in her heart so
+loudly that she did not hear a question from the queen. "It is
+incredible!" some one exclaimed angrily near her. She started from her
+reverie. "Your Majesty?" The queen had already passed on, without
+waiting for a reply--whispers and nods ran through the circle, every
+eye was fixed upon her. What had the queen wanted? She tried to hurry
+after her. Her Majesty had disappeared, she was already going through
+the next hall--but the distance was so great--she could not reach her,
+the space seemed to increase as she moved on. She felt that she was on
+the verge of fainting and dragged herself into a secluded room.
+
+The members of the court were retiring. Confusion arose--the mistress
+of ceremonies was absent just at the moment of the _Congé_! No one had
+time to seek her. All were assembling to take leave, and then hurrying
+after servants and wraps. Carriage after carriage rolled away, the
+rooms were empty, the lackeys came to extinguish the lights. The
+countess lay on a sofa, alone and deserted in the last hall of the
+suite.
+
+"In Heaven's name, is your Highness ill?" cried an old major-domo,
+offering his assistance to the lady, who slowly rose. "Is it all over?"
+she asked, gazing vacantly around "Where is my servant?"
+
+"He is still waiting outside for Your Highness," replied the old
+gentleman, trying to assist her. "Shall I call a doctor or a maid?"
+
+"No, thank you, I am well again. It was only an attack of giddiness,"
+said the countess, walking slowly out of the palace.
+
+"Who is driving to-night?" she asked the footman, as he put her fur
+cloak over her bare shoulders.
+
+"Martin, Your Highness."
+
+"Very well, then go home and say that I shall not come, but visit the
+estates."
+
+"It is bitterly cold. Your Highness!" observed the major domo, who had
+attended her to the equipage.
+
+"That does not matter--is the beaver robe in the carriage?"
+
+"Certainly, Your Highness!"
+
+"What time is it? Late?"
+
+"Oh no; just nine. Your Highness."
+
+"Forward, then!"
+
+Martin knew where.
+
+The major-domo closed the door and away dashed the horses into the
+glittering winter night along the familiar, but long neglected road. It
+was indeed a cold drive. The ground was frozen hard and the carriage
+windows were covered with frost flowers. The countess' temples were
+throbbing violently, her heart beat eagerly with longing for the
+husband whom she had deserted for this base world! The mood of that
+Ammergau epoch again asserted its rights, and she penitently hastened
+to seek the beautiful gift she had so thoughtlessly cast aside. With a
+heart full of rancor over the injustice and lovelessness experienced in
+society, her soul plunged deeply into the sweet chalice of the love and
+poesy of those days--a love which was religion--a religion which was
+_love_. "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have
+not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal!" Aye,
+for sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal she had squandered warm
+heart's blood, and the sorrowing soul of the people from whose sacred
+simplicity her wearied soul was to have drawn fresh youth, gazed
+tearfully at her from the eyes of her distant son.
+
+The horses went so slowly to-night, she thought--no pace is swift
+enough for a repentant heart which longs to atone!
+
+He would be angry, she would have a bitter struggle with him--but she
+would soften his wrath--she would put forth all her charms, she would
+be loving and beautiful, fairer than he had ever seen her, for she had
+never appeared before him in full dress, with diamonds sparkling on her
+snowy neck, and heavy gold bracelets clasping her wonderful arms.
+
+She would tell him that she repented, that everything should be as of
+yore when she plighted her troth to him by the glare of the bridal
+torches of the forest conflagration and, feeling Valkyrie might in her
+veins, dreamed Valkyrie dreams.
+
+She drew a long breath and compared the pallid court lady of the
+present, who fainted at a proof of disfavor and a few spiteful glances,
+with the Valkyrie of those days! Was it a mere delusion which made her
+so strong? No--even if the God whom she saw in him was a delusion, the
+love which swelled in her veins with that might which defied the
+elements was divine and, by every standard of philosophy, æsthetics,
+and birth, as well as morality, had a right to its existence.
+
+Then why had she been ashamed of it? On account of trivial prejudices,
+petty vanities: in other words, weakness!
+
+Not Freyer, but _she_ was too petty for this great love! "Yet
+wait--wait, my forsaken husband. Your wife is coming to-day with a love
+that is worthy of you, ardent enough to atone in a single hour for the
+neglect of years."
+
+She breathed upon the frost-coated pane, melting an opening in the
+crust of ice. The castle already stood before her, the height was
+almost reached. Then--a sudden jolt--a cry from the coachman, and the
+carriage toppled toward the precipice. With ready nerve the countess
+sprang out on the opposite side.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Why, the horses shied at sight of Herr Freyer!" said the coachman, as
+Freyer, with an iron hand, curbed the rearing animals. The countess
+hastened toward him. Aided by the coachman, he quieted the trembling
+creatures.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Your Highness," said Freyer, still panting from the
+exertion he had made. "I came out of the wood unexpectedly, and the
+dark figure frightened them. Fortunately I could seize their reins."
+
+"Drive on, Martin," the countess ordered, "I will walk with Herr
+Freyer." The coachman obeyed. She put her hand through Freyer's arm.
+"No wonder that the horses shied, my husband, you look so strange. What
+were you doing in the woods in the middle of the night?"
+
+"What I always do--wandering about."
+
+"That is not right, you ought to sleep."
+
+"Sleep?" Freyer repeated with a bitter laugh.
+
+"Is this my reception, Joseph?"
+
+"Pardon me--it makes me laugh when you talk of sleeping! Look"--he
+raised his hat: "Even in the starlight you can see the white hairs
+which have come since you were last here, sent my child away, and made
+me wholly a hermit. No sleep has come to my eyes and my hair has grown
+grey."
+
+The countess perceived with horror the change which had taken place in
+him. Threads of silver mingled with his black locks, his eyes were
+sunken, his whole figure was emaciated, his chest narrowed--he was a
+sick man. She could not endure the sight--it was the most terrible
+reproach to her; she fixed her eyes on the ground: "I had made such a
+lovely plan--Martin has the key of the outside door--I was going to
+steal gently to the side of your couch and kiss your sleeping lips."
+
+"I thank you for the kind intention. But do you imagine that I could
+have slept after receiving that letter which brought me the news that I
+was betrayed--betrayed once more and, after all the sacred promises
+made during your last visit, you had done exactly the opposite and
+accepted a position which separated you still farther from your husband
+and child, bound you still more firmly to the world? Do you imagine
+that the _days_ are enough to ponder over such thoughts? No, one must
+call in the nights to aid. You know that well, and I should be far
+better satisfied if you would say honestly: 'I know that I am killing
+you, that your strength is being consumed with sorrow, but I have no
+wish to change this state of affairs!' instead of feigning that you
+cannot understand why I should not sleep quietly and wondering that I
+wander all night in the forest? But fear nothing, I am perfectly
+calm--I shall reproach you no farther," he added in a milder tone, "for
+I have closed accounts with myself--with you--with life. Do not weep,
+I promised that when you sought your husband you should find him--I
+will not be false to my pledge. Come, lay your little head upon my
+breast--you are trembling, are you cold? Lean on me, and let us walk
+faster that I may shelter you in the warm room. Wandering dove--how did
+you happen suddenly to return to your husband's lonely nest in the cold
+night, in this bitter winter season? Why did not you stay in the warm
+cote with the others, where you had everything that you desire? Do you
+miss anything? Tell me, what do you seek with me, for what does your
+little heart long?" His voice again sank to the enthralling whisper
+which had formerly made all her pulses throb with a sensation of
+indescribable bliss. His great heart took all its pains and suffering
+and ceased to judge her. The faithless dove found the nest open, and
+his gentle hand scattered for her the crumbs of his lost happiness, as
+the starving man divides his last crust with those who are poorer
+still.
+
+She could not speak--overpowered by emotion she leaned against him,
+allowing herself to be carried rather than led up the steep ascent. But
+she could not wait, even as they moved her lips sought his, her little
+hands clasped his, and a murmur tremulous with emotion: "_This_ is what
+I missed!"--answered the sweet question. The stars above sparkled with
+a thousand rays--the whole silent, glittering, icy winter night
+rejoiced.
+
+At last the castle was reached and the "warm" room received them. It
+did not exactly deserve the name, for the fire in the stove had gone
+out, but neither felt it--the glow in their hearts sufficed.
+
+"You must take what I can offer--I am all alone, you know."
+
+"_All alone_!" she repeated with a happy smile which he could see by
+the starlight shining through the open window. Another kiss--a long
+silent embrace was exchanged.
+
+"Now let me light a lamp, that I may take off your cloak and make you
+comfortable! Or, do you mean to spend the night so?" He was bewitching
+in his mournful jesting, his sad happiness.
+
+"Ah, it is so long since I have seen you thus," Madeleine murmured.
+"World, I can laugh at you now!" cried an exultant voice in her heart,
+for the old love, the old spell was hers once more. And as he again
+appeared before her in his mild greatness and beauty, she desired to
+show herself his peer--display herself to him in all the dazzling
+radiance of her beauty. As he turned to light the lamp she let the
+heavy cloak fall and stood in all her loveliness, her snowy neck framed
+by the dark velvet bodice, on which all the stars in the firmament
+outside seemed to have fallen and clung to rest there for a moment.
+
+Freyer turned with the lamp in his hand--his eyes flashed--a faint cry
+escaped his lips! She waited smiling for an expression of delight--but
+he remained motionless, gazing at her as if he beheld a ghost, while
+the glance fixed upon the figure whose diamonds sparkled with a myriad
+rays constantly grew more gloomy, his bearing more rigid--a deep flush
+suffused his pallid face. "And this is my wife?" at last fell in a
+muffled, expressionless tone from his lips. "No--it is not she."
+
+The countess did not understand his meaning--she imagined that the
+superb costume so impressed him that he dared not approach her, and she
+must show him by redoubled tenderness that he was not too lowly for
+this superb woman. "It _is_ your wife, indeed it is, and all this
+splendor veils a heart which is yours, and yours alone!" she cried,
+throwing herself on his breast and clasping her white arms around him.
+
+But with a violent gesture he released himself, drawing back a step.
+"No--no--I cannot, I will not touch you in such a guise as this."
+
+"Freyer!" the countess angrily exclaimed, gazing at him as if to detect
+some trace of insanity in his features. "What does this mean?"
+
+"Have you--been in society--in _that_ dress?" he asked in a low tone,
+as if ashamed for her.
+
+"Yes. And in my impatience to hasten to you I did not stop to change
+it. I thought you would be pleased."
+
+Freyer again burst into the bitter laugh from which she always shrank.
+"Pleased, when I see that you show yourself to others so--"
+
+"How?" she asked, still failing to understand him.
+
+"So naked!" he burst forth, unable to control himself longer. "You have
+uncovered your beauty thus before the eyes of the gentlemen of your
+world? And this is my wife--a creature so destitute of all shame?"
+
+"Freyer!" shrieked the countess, tottering backward with her hand
+pressed upon her brow as if she had just received a blow on the head:
+"This to _me_--_to-day_!"
+
+"To-day or to-morrow. On any day when you display the beauty at which I
+scarcely dare to glance, to the profane eyes of a motley throng of
+strangers, who gaze with the same satisfaction at the booths of a
+fair--on any day when you expose to greedy looks the bosom which
+conceals the heart that should be mine--on any such day you are
+unworthy the love of any honest man."
+
+A low cry of indignation answered him, then all was still. At last
+Madeleine von Wildenau's lips murmured with a violent effort: "This is
+the last!"
+
+Freyer was striving to calm himself. He pressed his burning brow
+against the frosty window-panes with their glittering tangle of crystal
+flowers and stars. The sparkling firmament above gazed down in its
+eternal clearness upon the poor earthling, who in his childlike way was
+offering a sacrifice to the chaste God, whose cold home it was.
+
+"Whenever I come--there is always some new torture for me--but you have
+never so insulted and outraged me as today," said the countess slowly,
+in a low tone, as if weighing every word. Her manner was terribly calm
+and cold.
+
+"I understand that it may be strange to you to see a lady in full
+dress--you have never moved in a circle where this is a matter of
+course and no one thinks of it. To the pure all things are pure, and he
+who is not stands with us under the law of the etiquette of our
+society. Our village lasses must muffle themselves to the throat, for
+what could protect them from the coarse jests and rudeness of the
+village lads?"
+
+Freyer winced, he felt the lash.
+
+"To add to the splendor of festal garments," she went on, "a little of
+the natural beauty of the divinely created human body is a tribute
+which even the purest woman can afford the eye, and whatever is kept
+within the limits of the artistic sense can never be shameless or
+unseemly. Woe betide any one who passes these bounds and sees evil
+in it--he erases himself from the ranks of cultured people. So much,
+and no more, you are still worthy that I should say in my own
+justification!"
+
+She turned and took up the cloak to wrap herself in it: "Will you be
+kind enough to have the horses harnessed?"
+
+"Are you going?" asked Freyer, who meanwhile had regained his
+self-control.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Alas, what have I done!" he said, wringing his hands. "I have not even
+asked you to sit down, have not let you rest, have offended and wounded
+you. Oh, I am a savage, a wretched man."
+
+"You are what you can be!" she replied with the cutting coldness into
+which a proud woman's slighted love is quickly transformed.
+
+"What such an uncultivated person can be! That is what you wish to
+say!" replied Freyer. "But there lies my excuse. Aye, I am a native of
+the country, accustomed to break my fruit, wet with the morning-dew,
+from the tree ere any hand has touched it, or pluck from the thorny
+boughs in the dewy thicket the hidden berries which no human eye has
+beheld;--I cannot understand how people can enjoy fruits that have been
+uncovered for hours in the dust of the marketplace. The aroma is
+gone--the freshness and bloom have vanished, and if given me--no matter
+how costly it might be, I should not care for it--the wild berries in
+the wood which smiled at me from the leafy dusk with their glittering
+dewdrops, would please me a thousand times better! This is not meant
+for a comparison, only an instance of how people feel when they live in
+the country!"
+
+"And to carry your simile further--if you believe that the fruit so
+greatly desired has been kept for you alone--will it not please you to
+possess what others long for in vain?"
+
+"No," he said simply, "I am not envious enough to wish to deprive
+others of anything they covet--but I will not share, so I would rather
+resign!"
+
+"Well, then--I have nothing more to say on that point--let us close the
+conversation."
+
+Both were silent a long time, as if exhausted by some great exertion.
+
+"How is our--the child? Have you any news from Josepha?" the countess
+asked at last.
+
+"Yes, but unfortunately nothing good."
+
+"As usual!" she answered, hastily; "it is her principle to make us
+anxious. Such people take advantage of every opportunity to let us feel
+their power. I know that."
+
+"I do not think so. I must defend my cousin. She was always honest,
+though blunt and impulsive," answered Freyer. "I fear she is writing
+the truth, and the boy is really worse."
+
+"Go there then, if you are anxious, and send me word how you find him."
+
+"I will not travel at your expense--except in your service, and my own
+means are not enough," replied Freyer in a cold, stern tone.
+
+"Very well, this _is_ in my service. So--obey and go at my expense!"
+
+Freyer gazed at her long and earnestly. "As your steward?" he asked in
+a peculiar tone.
+
+"I should like to have a truthful report--not a biassed one, as is
+Josepha's custom," she replied evasively. "There is nothing to be done
+on the estates now--I beg the 'steward' to represent my interests in
+this matter. If you find the child really worse, I will get a leave of
+absence and go to him."
+
+"Very well, I will do as you order."
+
+"But have the horses harnessed now, or it will be morning before I
+return."
+
+"Will it not be too fatiguing for you to return to-night? Shall I not
+wake the house-maid to prepare your room and wait on you!"
+
+"No, I thank you."
+
+"As you choose," he said, quietly going to order the horses, which had
+hardly been taken from the carriage, to be harnessed again. The
+coachman remonstrated, saying that the animals had not had time to
+rest, but Freyer replied that there must be no opposition to the
+countess' will.
+
+The half-hour which the coachman required was spent by the husband and
+wife in separate rooms. Freyer was arranging on his desk a file of
+papers relating to his business as steward; bills and documents for the
+countess to look over. He worked as quietly as if all emotion was dead
+within him. The countess sat alone in the dimly-lighted, comfortless
+sitting room, gazing at the spot where her son's bed used to stand. Her
+blood was seething with shame and wrath; yet the sight of the empty
+wall where the boy no longer held out his arms to her from the little
+couch, was strangely sad--as if he were dead, and his corpse had
+already been borne out. Her heart was filled with grief, too bitter to
+find relief in tears, they are frozen at such a moment. She would fain
+have called his name amid loud sobs, but something seemed to stand
+beside her, closing her lips and clutching her heart with an iron hand,
+the _vengeance_ of the sorely insulted woman. Then she fancied she saw
+the child fluttering toward her in his little white shirt. At the same
+moment a door burst open, a draught of air swept through the room,
+making her start violently--and at the same moment a star shot from the
+sky, so close at hand, that it appeared as if it must dart through the
+panes and join its glittering fellows on the countess' breast.
+
+What was that? A gust of wind so sudden, that it swept through the
+closed rooms, burst doors open, and appeared to hurl the stars from the
+sky? Yet outside all was still; only the wainscoting and beams of the
+room creaked slightly--popular superstition would have said: "Some
+death has been announced!" The excited woman thought of it with secret
+terror. Was it the whir of the spindle from which one of the Fates
+had just cut the thread of life? If it were the life-thread of her
+child--if at that very hour--her blood congealed to ice! She longed to
+shriek in her fright, but again the gloomy genius of vengeance sealed
+her lips and heart. _If_ it were--God's will be done. Then the last
+bond between her and Freyer would be sundered. What could she do with
+_this_ man's child? Nothing that fettered her to him had a right to
+exist--if the child was dead, then she would be free, there would be
+nothing more in common between them! He had slain her heart that day,
+and she was slaying the last feeling which lived within it, love for
+her child! Everything between them must be over, effaced from the
+earth, even the child. Let God take it!
+
+Every passionate woman who is scorned feels a touch of kinship with
+Medea, whose avenging steel strikes the husband whom it cannot reach
+through the children, whether her own heart is also pierced or not.
+Greater far than the self-denial of _love_ is that of _hate_, for it
+extends to self-destruction! It fears no pain, spares neither itself
+nor its own flesh and blood, slays the object of its dearest love to
+give pain to others--even if only in _thought_, as in the modern realm
+of culture, where everything formerly expressed in deeds of violence
+now acts in the sphere of mental life.
+
+It was a terrible hour! From every corner of the room, wherever she
+gazed, the boy's large eyes shone upon her through the dusk, pleading:
+"Forgive my father, and do not thrust me from your heart!" But in vain,
+her wrath was too great, her heart was incapable at that moment of
+feeling anything else. Everything had happened as it must; she had
+entered an alien, inferior sphere, and abandoned and scorned her own,
+therefore the society to which she belonged now exiled her, while she
+reaped in the sphere she had chosen ingratitude and misunderstanding.
+
+Now, too late, she was forced to realize what it meant to be chained
+for life to an uneducated man! "Oh, God, my punishment is just,"
+murmured an angry voice in her soul, "in my childish defiance I
+despised all the benefits of culture by which I was surrounded, to make
+for myself an idol of clay which, animated by my glowing breath, dealt
+me a blow in the face and returned to its original element! I have
+thrown myself away on a man, to whom any peasant lass would be dearer!
+Why--why, oh God, hast Thou lured me with Thy deceitful mask into the
+mire? Dost Thou feel at ease amid base surroundings? I cannot follow
+Thee there! A religion which stands on so bad a footing with man's
+highest blessings, culture and learning, can never be _mine_. Is it
+divine to steal a heart under the mask of Christ and then, as if in
+mockery, leave the deceived one in the lurch, after she has been caught
+in the snare and bound to a narrow-minded, brutal husband? Is this
+God-like? Nay, it is fiendish! Do not look at me so beseechingly,
+beautiful eyes of my child, I no longer believe even in you! Everything
+which has hitherto bound me to your father has been a lie; you, too,
+are an embodied falsehood. It is not true that Countess Wildenau has
+mingled her noble blood with that of a low-born man; that she has given
+birth to a bastard, wretched creature, which could be at home in no
+sphere save by treachery! No--no, I cannot have forgotten myself so
+far--it is but a dream, a phantasy of the imagination and when I awake
+it will be on the morning of that August day in Ammergau after the
+Passion Play. Then I shall be free, can wed a noble man who is my peer,
+and give him legitimate heirs, whose mother I can be without a blush!"
+
+What was that? Did her ears deceive her? The hoof-beats of a horse,
+rushing up the mountain with the speed of the wind. She hurried to the
+window. The clock was just striking two. Yes! A figure like the wild
+huntsman was flitting like a shadow through the night toward the
+castle. Now he turned the last curve and reached the height and the
+countess saw distinctly that he was her cornier. What news was he
+bringing--what had happened--at so late an hour?
+
+Was the evil dream not yet over?
+
+What new blow was about to strike her?
+
+"What you desired--nothing else!" said the demon of her life.
+
+The courier checked his foaming horse before the terrace. The countess
+tried to hurry toward him, but could not leave the spot. She clung
+shuddering to the cross-bars of the window, which cast its long black
+shadow far outside.
+
+Freyer opened the door; Madeleine heard the horseman ask: "Is the
+Countess here?"
+
+"Yes!" replied Freyer.
+
+"I have a telegram which must be signed, the answer is prepaid."
+
+Freyer tore off the envelope. "Take the horse round to the stable, I
+will attend to everything."
+
+He entered and approached the door, through which the child had come to
+his mother's aid the last time she was there, to protect her from
+Josepha. The countess fancied that the little head must be again thrust
+in! But it was only Freyer with the despatch. The countess mechanically
+signed her name to the receipt as if she feared she could not do so
+after having read the message. Then, with a trembling hand, she opened
+the telegram, which contained only the words:
+
+"Our angel has just died, with his mother's name on his lips. Please
+send directions for the funeral.
+
+                                                    "Josepha."
+
+A cry rang through the room like the breaking of a chord--a death-like
+silence followed. The countess was on her knees, with her face bowed on
+the table, her hand clasping the telegram, crushed before the God whose
+might she felt for the first time in her life, whom only a few moments
+before she had blasphemed and defied. He had taken her at her word, and
+her words had condemned her. The child, the loyal child who had died
+with her name on his lips, she had wished but a few minutes before that
+God would take out of the world--she could betray him for the sake of
+an aristocratic legitimate brother, who never had existed. She could
+think of his death as something necessary, as her means of deliverance?
+Now the child _had_ released her. Sensitive and modest, he had removed
+the burden of his poor little life, which was too much for her to bear
+and vanished from the earth where he found no place--but his last word
+was the name of all love, the name "mother!" He had not asked "have you
+fulfilled a mother's duties to me?--have you loved me?" He had loved
+his mother with that sweet child-love, which demands nothing--only
+gives.
+
+And she, the avaricious mother, had been niggardly with her love--till
+the child died of longing. She had let it die and did not bestow the
+last joy, press the last kiss upon the little mouth, permit the last
+look of the seeking eyes to rest upon the mother's face!
+
+Outraged nature, so long denied, now shrieked aloud, like an animal for
+its dead young! But the brute has at least done its duty, suckled its
+offspring, warmed and protected it with its own body, as long as it
+could. But she, the more highly organized creature--for only human
+beings are capable of such unnatural conduct--had sacrificed her child
+to so-called higher interests, had neither heeded Josepha's warning,
+nor the voice of her own heart. Now came pity for the dead child, now
+she would fain have taken it in her arms, called it by every loving
+name, cradled the weary little head upon her breast. Too late! He had
+passed away like a smiling good genius, whom she had repulsed--now she
+was alone and free, but free like the man who falls into a chasm
+because the rope which bound him to the guide broke. She had not known
+that she possessed a child, while he lived, now that he was dead she
+knew it. _Maternal joy_ could not teach her, for she had never
+experienced it--_maternal grief_ did--and she was forced to taste it to
+the dregs. Though she writhed in her torture, burying her nails in the
+carpet as if she would fain dig the child from the ground, she could
+find no consolation, and letting her head sink despairingly, she
+murmured: "My child--you have gone and left me with a guilt that can
+never be atoned!"
+
+"You can be my mother in Heaven," he had once said. This, too, was
+forfeited; neither in Heaven nor on earth had she a mother's rights,
+for she had denied her child, not only before the world but, during
+this last hour, to herself also.
+
+Freyer bore the dispensation differently. To him it was no punishment,
+but a trial, the inevitable consequence of unhappy, unnatural
+relations. He could not reproach himself and uttered no reproaches to
+others. He was no novice in suffering and had one powerful consolation,
+which she lacked: the perception of the divinity of grief--this made
+him strong and calm! Freyer leaned against the window and gazed upward
+to the stars, which were so peacefully pursuing their course. "You were
+far away from me when you lived in a foreign land, my child--now you
+are near, my poor little boy! This cold earth had no home for you! But
+to your father you will still live, and your glorified spirit will
+brighten my path--the dark one I must still follow!" Tears flowed
+silently down his cheeks. No loud lamentations must profane his great,
+sacred anguish. With clasped hands he mutely battled it down and as of
+old on the cross his eyes appealed to those powers ever near the
+patient sufferer in the hour of conflict. However insignificant and
+inexperienced he might be in this world, he was proportionally lofty
+and superior in the knowledge of the things of another.
+
+"Come, rise!" he said gently to the bewildered woman, bending to help
+her. She obeyed, but it was in the same way that two strangers, in a
+moment of common disaster, lend each other assistance. The tie had been
+severed that day, and the child's death placed a grave between them.
+
+"I fear your sobbing will be heard downstairs. Will you not pray with
+me?" said Freyer. "Do what we may, we are in God's hands and must
+accept what He sends! I wish that you could feel how the saints aid a
+soul which suffers in silence. Loud outcries and unbridled lamentations
+drive them away! God does not punish us to render us impatient, but
+patient." He clasped his hands: "Come, let us pray for our child!" He
+repeated in a low tone the usual, familiar prayers for the dying--we
+cannot always command words to express our feelings. An old formula
+often stands us in good stead, when the agitation of our souls will not
+suffer us to find language, and our thoughts, swept to and fro by the
+tempest of feeling, gladly cling to a familiar form to which they give
+new life.
+
+The countess did not understand this. She was annoyed by the
+commonplace phraseology, which was not hallowed to her by custom and
+piety--she was contemptuous of a point of view which could find
+consolation for _such_ a grief by babbling "trivialties." Freyer ended
+his prayer, and remained a moment with his hands clasped on his breast.
+Then he dipped his fingers in the holy water basin beside the place
+where the child's couch had formerly stood and made the sign of the
+cross over himself and the unresponsive woman. She submitted, but
+winced as if he had cut her face with a knife and destroyed its beauty.
+It reminded her of the hour in Ammergau when he made the sign of the
+cross over her for the first time! Then she had felt enrolled by this
+symbol in a mysterious army of sufferers and there her misery began.
+
+"We must now arrange where we will have the child buried," said Freyer;
+"I think we should bring him here, that we may still have our angel's
+grave!"
+
+"As you choose!" she said in an exhausted tone, wiping away her tears.
+"It will be best for you to go and attend to everything yourself. Then
+you can bring the--body!" The word again destroyed her composure. She
+saw the child in his coffin with Josepha, the faithful servant who had
+nursed him, beside it, and an unspeakable jealousy seized her
+concerning the woman to whom she had so indifferently resigned all her
+rights. The child, always so ready to lavish its love, was lying cold
+and rigid, and she would give her life if it could rise once more,
+throw its little arms around her neck, and say "my dear mother." "Pearl
+of Heaven--I have cast you away for wretched tinsel and now, when the
+angels have taken you again, I recognize your value." She tore the
+jewels from her breast. "There, take these glittering stars of my
+frivolous life and put them in his coffin--I never want to see them
+again--let their rays be quenched in my child's grave."
+
+"The sacrifice comes too late!" said Freyer, pushing the stones away.
+He did not wish to be harsh, but he could not be untruthful. What was a
+handful of diamonds flung away in a moment of impulse to the Countess
+Wildenau? Did she seek to buy with them pardon for her guilt toward her
+dead child? The father's aching heart could not accept _that_ payment
+on account! Or was it meant for the symbol of a greater sacrifice--a
+sacrifice of her former life? Then it came too late, too late for the
+dead and for the living; it could not avail the former, and the latter
+no longer believed in it!
+
+She had understood him and the terrible accusation which he unwittingly
+brought against her! Standing before him as if before a judge, she felt
+that God was with him at that moment--but she was deserted, her angel
+had left her, there was no pity for her in Heaven or on earth--save
+from one person! The thought illumined the darkness of her misery.
+There was but one who would pour balm upon her wounds, one who had
+indulgence and love enough to raise the drooping head, pardon the
+criminal--her noble, generous-hearted friend, the Prince! She would fly
+to him, seek shelter from the gloomy spirit which had pursued her ever
+since she conjured up in Ammergau the cruel God who asked such
+impossible things and punished so terribly.
+
+"Pray, order the carriage--I must leave here or I shall die."
+
+Freyer glanced at the clock. "The half-hour Martin required is over, he
+will be here directly."
+
+"Is it only half an hour? Oh! God--is it possible--so much misery in
+half an hour! It seems an eternity since the news came!"
+
+"We can feel more grief in one moment than pleasure in a thousand
+years!" answered Freyer. "It is probably because a just Providence
+allots to each an equal measure of joy and pain--but the pain must be
+experienced in this brief existence, while we have an eternity for joy.
+Woe betide him, who does the reverse--keeps the pain for eternity and
+squanders the joy in this world. He is like the foolish virgins who
+burned their oil before the coming of the 'bridegroom.'"
+
+The countess nodded. She understood the deep significance of Freyer's
+words.
+
+"But we of the people say that 'whom God loveth, He chasteneth,'" he
+continued, "and I interpret that to mean that He _compels_ those whom
+He wishes to save to bear their portion here below, that the joy may be
+reserved for them in Heaven! To such favored souls He sends an angel
+with the cup of wormwood and wherever it flees and hides--he finds it.
+Nearer and nearer the angel circles around it on his dark pinions, till
+it sinks with fatigue, and fainting with thirst like the Saviour on the
+Cross--drinks the bitter draught as if it were the most delicious
+refreshment."
+
+The countess gazed into his face with timid admiration. He seemed to
+her the gloomy messenger of whom he spoke, she fancied she could hear
+the rustle of his wings as he drew nearer and nearer in ever narrowing
+circles, till escape was no longer possible. Like a hunted animal she
+took to flight--seeking deliverance at any cost. Thank Heaven, the
+carriage! Martin was driving up. A cold: "Farewell, I hope you may gain
+consolation and strength for the sad journey!" was murmured to the
+father who was going to bring home the body of his dead child--then she
+entered the carriage.
+
+Freyer wrapped the fur robe carefully around the delicate form of his
+wife, but not another word escaped his lips. What he said afterward to
+his God, when he returned to the deserted house, Countess Wildenau must
+answer for at some future day.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+                            NOLI ME TANGERE.
+
+
+"I have attracted you by a Play--for you were a child, and children are
+taught by games. But when one method of instruction is exhausted it is
+cast aside and exchanged for a higher one, that the child may ripen to
+maturity." Thus spoke the voice of the Heavenly Teacher to the countess
+as, absorbed in her grief, she drove through the dusk of a wintry
+morning. She almost wondered, as she gazed out into the grey dawn, that
+the day-star was not weary of pursuing its course. Aye, the mysterious
+voice spoke the truth: the play was over, that method of instruction
+was exhausted, but she did not yet feel ready for a sterner one and
+trembled at the thought of it.
+
+Instead of the divine Kindergarten instructor, came the gloomy teacher
+death, forcing the attention of the refractory pupil by the first
+pitiless blow upon her own flesh and blood! Day was dawning--in nature
+as well as in her own soul, but the sun shone upon a winding sheet,
+outside as well as in, a world dead in the clasp of winter. Where was
+the day when the redeeming love for which she hoped would appear to her
+in the spring garden? Woe to all who believed in spring. Their best
+gift was a cold winter sunlight on snow-covered graves.
+
+The corpse of her spring dream was lying on the laughing shores of the
+Riviera.
+
+The God whom she sought was very different from the one she intended to
+banish from her heart. The new teacher seized her hand with bony
+fingers and forced her to look closely at the God whom she herself had
+created, and whom she now upbraided with having deceived her. "What
+kind of God would this creature of your imagination be?" rang in her
+ears with pitiless mockery. Aye, she had believed Him to be the Jupiter
+who loved mortal women, only in the course of the ages he had changed
+his name and now appeared as Christ. But she was now forced to learn
+that He was no offspring of the sensual fancy of the nations, but a
+contrast to every natural tendency and desire--a _true_ God, not a
+creation of mankind. Were it not so, men would have invented a more
+complaisant one. Must not that be a divine power which, in opposition
+to all human, all earthly passions, with neither splendor, nor power,
+with the most insignificant means has established an empire throughout
+the world? Aye, she recognized with reverent awe that this was a God,
+though unlike the one whom she sought, Christ was not Jupiter--and
+Freyer was not Christ. The _latter_ cannot be clasped in the arms, does
+not yield to earthly yearning, no matter how fervently devout. Spirit
+as He is, He vanishes, even where He reveals Himself in material form,
+and whoever thinks to grasp Him, holds but the poor doll, whom He gave
+for a momentary support to the childish mind, which seeks solely what
+is tangible!
+
+Mary Magdalene was permitted to serve and anoint Him when He walked on
+earth in human form, but when she tried to clasp the risen Lord the
+"_noli me tangere_" thundered in her ears, and God withdrew from mortal
+touch. In Mary Magdalene, however, the love kindled by the visible
+Master was strong enough to burn on for the invisible One--she no
+longer sought Him among the living, but went into solitude and lived
+for the vanished Christ. But the countess had not advanced so far. What
+"God of Love" was this, who imposed conditions which made the warm
+blood freeze, killed the warm life-pulses? What possession was this,
+which could only be obtained by renunciation, what joy that could be
+attained solely by mortification? Her passionate nature could not
+comprehend this contradiction. She longed to clasp His knees and wipe
+His feet with her hair, at least that, nothing more, only that--she
+would be modest! But not even that was allowed her.
+
+This was the great impulse of religious materialism, in which divinity
+and humanity met, the Magdalene element in the history of the
+conversion of mankind, which attracted souls like that of Madeleine von
+Wildenau, made them feel for an instant the bliss of the immediate
+presence of God, and then left them disappointed and alone until they
+perceived that in that one instant wings have grown--strong enough to
+bear them up to Heaven, if they once learned to use them.
+
+Thus quivering and forsaken, the heart of the modern Magdalene lay on
+the earth when the first _noli me tangere_ echoed in her ears. She had
+never known that there were things which could not be had, and now that
+she wanted a God and could not obtain Him, she murmured like a child
+which longs in vain for the stars until it attains a higher
+consciousness of ownership than lies in mere personal possession, the
+feeling which in quiet contemplation of the starry firmament fills us
+with the proud consciousness: "This is yours!"
+
+Everything is ours--and nothing, according to our view of it. To expand
+our breasts with its mighty thoughts--to merge ourselves in it and revel
+in the whirling dance of the atoms, _in that sense_ the universe is
+ours. But absorb and contain it we cannot; in that way it does not
+belong to us. It is the same with God. Greatness cannot enter
+littleness--the small must be absorbed by the great; but its power of
+possession lies in the very fact that it can do this and still retain
+its own nature. How long will it last, and what will it cost, ere the
+impatient child attains the peace of this realization?
+
+In the faint glimmer of the dawn the countess drove past a little
+church in the suburbs of Munich. It was the hour for early mass. A few
+sleepy, shivering old women, closely muffled, were shuffling over the
+snow in big felt shoes toward the open door. A dim ray of light
+streamed out, no organ notes, no festal display lured worshippers, for
+it was a "low mass." It was cold and gloomy outside, songless within.
+Yet the countess suddenly stopped the carriage.
+
+"I am going into the church a moment," she said, tottering forward with
+uncertain steps, for she was exhausted both physically and mentally.
+The old women eyed her malignantly, as if asking: "What do you want
+among poor ugly crones who drag their crooked limbs out of bed so early
+to go to their Saviour, because later they must do the work of their
+little homes and cannot get away? What brings you to share with us the
+bitter bread of poverty, the bread of the poor in spirit, with which
+our Saviour fed the five thousand and will feed thousands and tens of
+thousands more from eternity to eternity? Of what use to you are the
+crumbs scattered here for a few beggars?"
+
+She felt ashamed as she moved in her long velvet train and costly fur
+cloak past the cowering figures redolent of the musty straw beds and
+close sleeping rooms whence they had come, and read these questions on
+the wrinkled faces peering from under woollen hoods and caps, as if
+she, the rich woman, had come to take something from the poor. She had
+gone forward to the empty front benches near the altar, where the timid
+common people do not venture to sit, but--she knew not why--as she was
+about to kneel there, she suddenly felt that she could not cut off a
+view of any part of the altar from the people behind, deprive them of
+anything to which she had no right, and turning she went back to the
+last seat. There, behind a trembling old man in a shabby woollen
+blouse, who could scarcely bend his stiff knees and sat coughing and
+gasping, and a consumptive woman, who was passing the beads of her
+rosary between thin, crooked fingers, she knelt down. She was more at
+ease now--she felt that she had no rights here, that she was the least
+among the lowliest.
+
+The church was still dark, it had not yet been lighted, the sacristan
+was obliged to be saving--every one knew that. The faint ray which
+streamed through the door came from the candle ends brought by the
+congregation, who set them in front of the praying-desks to read their
+prayer-books. The first person was compelled to use a match, the others
+lighted their candles from his and were glad to be able to save the
+matches. It was a silent agreement, which every one knew. Here and
+there a tiny light glowed brightly--ever and anon in some dark corner
+the slight snap of a match was heard and directly after a column or the
+image of some saint emerged from the wavering shadows, now fainter, now
+more distinct, according as the light flashed up and down, till it
+burned clearly. Then the nave grew bright and the breath of the
+congregation rose through the cold church over the little flames like
+clouds of incense. The high-altar alone still lay veiled in darkness.
+The light of a wax-candle on the bench in front shone brightly into the
+countess' eyes. The woman in the three-cornered kerchief with the
+sunken temples and bony hands glanced back and gazed mournfully, almost
+reproachfully, into her face and at her rich fur cloak. Madeleine von
+Wildenau was ashamed of her beauty, ashamed that she wore furs while
+the woman in front of her scarcely had her shoulders covered. She
+felt burdened, she almost wanted to excuse herself. If she were poor
+also--she would have no cause to be ashamed. She gently drew out her
+purse and slipped the contents into the woman's hand. The latter drew
+back startled, she could not believe, could not understand that she was
+really to take it, that the lady was in earnest.
+
+"May God reward you! I'll pray for you a thousand times!" she
+whispered, and a great, unutterable emotion filled the countess' soul
+as she met the poor woman's grateful glance. Then the kneeling crone
+nudged her neighbor, the coughing, stammering old man, and pressed a
+gold coin into his hand.
+
+"There's something for you! You're poor and needy too."
+
+The latter looked at the woman, who was a stranger, as though she were
+an apparition from another world. "Why, what is this?" he murmured with
+difficulty.
+
+"The lady behind gave it to me," said the woman, pointing backward with
+her thumb.
+
+The old man nodded to the lady, as well as his stiff neck would permit,
+and the woman did not notice that he ought to have thanked her, as the
+money was given to her and she had voluntarily shared it with him.
+
+Countess Wildenau experienced a strange emotion of satisfaction as if
+now, for the first time, she had a right here, and with the gift she
+had purchased her share of the "bread of poverty."
+
+At last there was a movement near the high altar. A sleepy alcolyte
+shuffled in, made his reverence before it and lighted a candle, which
+would not burn because he did not wait till the wax, which was
+stiffened by the cold, had melted. While he was lighting the second,
+the first went out and he was obliged to begin his task anew. The wand
+wavered to and fro a long time in the boy's numb hands, but at last the
+altar was lighted, the boy bowed again, and went down the stone steps
+into the vestry-room. This was ordinary prose, but the devout
+worshippers did not perceive it. They all knew the wondrous spell of
+fire, with which the Catholic church consecrates candles and gives
+their light the power to scatter the princes of darkness, and rejoiced
+in the victorious rays from which the evil spirits fled, they saw their
+gliding shadows dart in wild haste through the church and the sleepy
+boy who had wrought the miracle by means of his lighter disappear. _The
+light shines, no matter who kindles it_. The poor dark souls, illumined
+by no ray of earthly hope, eagerly absorbed its cheering rays and so
+long as the consecrated candles burned, the ghosts of care, discord,
+envy, and all the other demons of poverty were spell-bound! Now the
+priest entered, clad in his white robes, accompanied by two attendants.
+
+A deathlike stillness reigned throughout the church. In a low, almost
+inaudible whisper he read the Latin text, which no one understood, but
+whose meaning every one knew, even the countess.
+
+Everything which gives an impulse to the independent activity of the
+soul produces more effect than what is received in a complete form.
+During the incomprehensible muttering, the countess had time to recall
+the whole mighty drama to which it referred better and more vividly
+than any distinct prosaic theological essay could have described
+it. Again she experienced all the horrors of the Passion, as she
+had done in the Passion Play--only this time invisibly, instead of
+visibly--spiritually instead of materially--"Noli me tangere!"
+
+The priest stooped and kissed the altar, it meant the Judas kiss. "Can
+you kiss those lips and not fall down to worship?" cried a voice in the
+countess' heart, as it had done nine years before, and a nameless
+longing seized upon her for the divine contact which had fallen to the
+traitor's lot--but "Noli me tangere" rang in the ears of the penitent
+Magdalene. Before her stood an altar and a priest, not Christ nor
+Judas, and the kiss she envied was imprinted upon white linen, not the
+Saviour's lips. She pressed her hands upon her heart and a few bitter
+tears oozed from beneath her drooping lashes. She was like the blind
+princess in Henrik Hertz' wonderful poem, who, when she suddenly
+obtained her sight, no longer knew herself among the objects which she
+had formerly recognized only by touch, and fancied that she had lost
+everything which was dear and familiar--because she had gained a new
+sense which she knew not how to use--a _higher_ one than that of her
+groping finger tips. Then in her fear she turned to the _invisible_
+world and recognized _it_ only, it alone had not changed with outward
+phenomena because alike to the blind and those who had sight it
+revealed itself only to the _mind_. It was the same with the countess.
+The world which she could touch with her fingers had vanished and
+before her newly awakened sense lay a boundless space filled with
+strange forms, which all seemed so unattainably distant; one only
+remained the same: the God whom she had _never_ seen. And now when
+everything once familiar and near was transformed and removed to a vast
+distance, when everything appeared under a wholly different guise, it
+was He to whom her heart, accustomed to blindness, sought and found the
+way.
+
+The priest was completely absorbed in his prayer-book. What he beheld
+the others felt with mysterious awe. It was like looking through a
+telescope into a strange world, while those who were not permitted to
+do so stood by and imagined what the former beheld.
+
+The Sursum corda fell slowly from the lips of the priest. The bell
+sounded. "Christ is present!" The congregation, as if dazzled, bowed
+their faces and crossed themselves in the presence of the marvel
+that Heaven itself vouchsafed to descend to their unworthy selves.
+Again the bell sounded for the transformation, and perfect silence
+followed--while the miracle was being wrought by which God entered the
+mouths of mortals to be the bread of life to mankind.
+
+This was the bread of the poor and simple-hearted, whose crumbs the
+Countess Wildenau had that day stolen and was eating with secret shame.
+
+The mass was over, the priest pronounced the benediction and
+withdrew to the vestry-room. The people put out their bits of wax
+candles--clouds of light smoke filled the church. It was like Christmas
+Eve, after the children have gone to bed and the candles on the tree
+are extinguished--but their hearts are still full of Christmas joy. The
+countess knew not why the thought entered her mind, but she suddenly
+recollected that Christmas was close at hand and she no longer had any
+child on whom she could bestow gifts. True, she had never done this
+herself, but always left Josepha to attend to the matter. This year,
+however, she had thought she would do it, now it was too late. Suddenly
+she saw a child's eyes gazing happily at a lighted tree and below it a
+manger, with the same eyes sparkling back. The whole world, heaven and
+earth were glittering with children's beaming eyes, but the most
+beautiful of all--those of her own boy, were closed--no grateful glance
+smiled upon her amid the universal joy, for her there was no Christmas,
+for it was the mother's day, and she was _not_ a mother. "Child in the
+manger, bend down to the sinner who mourns neglected love at Thy feet."
+Sinking on the kneeling bench, she sobbed bitterly. It was dark and
+silent. The congregation had gone, the candles on the altar had been
+extinguished as fast as possible--the ever-burning lamp cast dull red
+rays upon the altar, dawn was glimmering through the frost-covered
+window panes. All was still--only in the distance the cocks were
+crowing. Again she remembered that evening when her father came and she
+had knelt with Freyer in the church before the Pieta, until the crowing
+of the cock reminded her how easy it was to betray love and fidelity.
+Rising wearily from her knees, she dragged herself to a Pieta above a
+side altar, and pressed her lips upon the wounds of the divine body.
+She gazed to see if the eyes would not once more open, but it remained
+rigid and lifeless, this time no echo answered the mute pleading of
+the warm lips. No second miracle was wrought for her, the hand which
+guided her had been withdrawn, and like the poorest and most humble
+mortal she was forced to grope her way wearily along the arid path of
+tradition;--it was just, she had deserved nothing better, and the great
+discovery which came to her that day was that this path also led to
+God.
+
+While thus absorbed in contemplation, a voice suddenly startled her so
+that she almost fainted: "What does this mean, Countess? You here at
+early mass, in a court-train! Are you going to write romances--or live
+them? I have often asked you the question, but never with so much
+justification as now!" Prince Emil was standing before her. She could
+almost have shrieked aloud in her delight. "Prince--my dear Prince!"
+
+"Unfortunately, Prince no longer, but Duke of Metten-Barnheim, in which
+character I again lay myself at your feet and beg for a continuation of
+your favor!" said the prince with a touch of humor. Raising her from
+her knees, he led her into the little corridor of the church. "My
+father," he went on, "feels so well at Cannes that he wants to spend
+his old age there in peace, and summoned me by telegram to sign the
+abdication documents and take the burden of government upon my young
+shoulders. I was just coming from the station and, as I drove by, saw
+your carriage waiting before this poor temple. I stopped and obtained
+with difficulty from the half frozen coachman information concerning
+the place where his mistress was seeking compensation from the ennui of
+a court entertainment! A romantic episode, indeed! A beautiful woman in
+court dress, weeping and doing penance at six o'clock in the morning,
+among beggars and cripples in a little church in the suburbs. A
+swearing coachman and two horses stiff from the cold waiting outside,
+and lastly a faithful knight, who comes just at the right time to
+prevent a moral suicide and save a pair of valuable horses--what more
+can be desired in our time, in the way of romance?"
+
+"Prince--pardon me, Duke, your mockery hurts me."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so, you are far too wearied, to understand humor. Come,
+I will take you to the carriage. There, lean on me, you are ill,
+_machère Madeleine_, you cannot go on in this way. What--you will take
+holy water, into which Heaven knows who has dipped his fingers. Well,
+to the pure all things are pure. Fortunately the doubtful fluid is
+frozen!"
+
+Talking on in this way he led her out into the open air. A keen morning
+wind from the mountains was sweeping through the streets and cut the
+countess' tear-stained face. She involuntarily hid it on the duke's
+breast. The latter put his arm gently around her and lifted her into
+the carriage. His own coachman was waiting near, but the duke looked at
+her beseechingly. "May I go with you? I cannot possibly leave you in
+this state."
+
+The countess nodded. He motioned to his servant to drive home and
+entered the Wildenau equipage. "First of all, Madeleine," he said,
+warming her cold hands in his, "tell me: _Are_ you already a saint--or
+do you wish to _become_ one? Whence dates this last caprice of my
+adored friend?"
+
+"No saint, Duke--neither now, nor ever, only a deeply humbled, contrite
+heart, which would fain fly from this world!"
+
+"But is this world so unlovely that one would fain try Heaven, while
+there are people who can be relied on under any circumstances!"
+
+"Yes" replied the countess bitterly, but the sweetness of the true
+warmth of feeling revealed through her friend's humor was reviving and
+strengthening to her brain and heart. In his society it seemed as if
+there was neither pain nor woe on earth, as if all gloomy spirits must
+flee from his unruffled calmness. His apparent coldness produced the
+effect of champagne frappé, which, ice-cold when drunk, warms the whole
+frame.
+
+"Oh, thank Heaven, that you are here--I have missed you sorely," she
+said from the depths of her soul. "Oh, my friend, what is to be done--I
+am helpless without you!"
+
+"So much the better for me, if I am indispensable to you--you know that
+is the goal of my desires! But dearest friend--you are suffering and I
+cannot aid you because I do not know the difficulty! What avail is a
+physician, who cures only the symptoms, not the disease. You are simply
+bungling about on your own responsibility and every one knows that is
+the worst thing a sick person can do. Consumptives use the hunger-cure,
+anæmics resort to blood letting. You, my dear Madeleine, I think, do
+the same thing. Mortification, when your vital strength is waning,
+moral blood-letting, while the heart needs food and warmth. What kind
+of cure is it to be up all night long and wander about in cold
+churches, with the thermometer marking below freezing, early in the
+morning. I should advise you to edit a book on the physiology of the
+nerves. You are like the man in the fairy-tale who wanted to learn to
+shiver." An involuntary smile hovered about the countess' lips.
+
+"Duke--your humor is beginning to conquer. No doubt you are right in
+many things, but you do not know the state of my mind. My life is
+destroyed, the axe is laid at the root, happiness, honor--all are
+lost."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, what has happened to thus overwhelm you?" asked the
+duke, still in the most cheerful mood.
+
+She could not tell him the truth and pleaded some incident at court as
+an excuse. Then in a few words she told him of the queen's displeasure,
+the malice of her enemies, her imperilled position.
+
+"And do you take this so tragically?" The prince laughed aloud: "Pardon
+me, _chère amie_--but one can't help laughing! A woman like you to
+despair because a few stiff old court sycophants look askance at you,
+and the queen does not understand you which, with the dispositions you
+both have, was precisely what might have been expected. It is too
+comical! It is entirely my own fault--I ought to have considered
+it--but I expected you to show more feminine craft and diplomacy. That
+you disdained to employ the petty arts which render one a _Persona
+grata_ at court is only an honor to you, and if a few fops presumed to
+adopt an insolent manner to you, they shall receive a lesson which
+will teach them that _your_ honor is _mine_! Nay, it ought to amuse
+you, to feign death awhile and see how the mice will all come out and
+dance around you to scatter again when the lioness awakes. Do you
+talk of destroyed happiness and roots to which the axe is laid? Oh,
+women--women! You can despair over a plaything! For this position at
+court could never be aught save a toy to you!"
+
+"But to retire thus in shame and disgrace--would _you_ endure it--if it
+should happen to you? Ought not a woman to be as sensitive concerning
+her honor as a man?"
+
+"I don't think your honor will suffer, because the restraint of court
+life does not suit you! Or is it because you do not understand the
+queen? Why, surely persons are not always sympathetic and avoid one
+another without any regret; does the fact become so fateful because one
+of you wears a crown? In that case I beg you to remember that a crown
+is hovering over your head also--a crown that is ready to descend
+whenever that head will receive it, and that you will then be in a
+position to address Her Majesty as 'chère cousine!' You, a Princess von
+Prankenberg, a Countess Wildenau, fly like a rebuked child at an
+ungracious glance from the queen and her court into a corner of a
+church?" He shook his head. "There must be something else. What is it?
+I shall never learn, but you cannot deceive me!"
+
+The countess was greatly disconcerted. She tried to find another
+plausible pretext for her mood and, like all natures to whom deception
+is not natural, said precisely what betrayed her: "I am anxious about
+the Wildenaus--they are only watching for the moment when they can
+compromise me unpunished, and if the queen withdraws her favor, they
+need show me no farther consideration."
+
+The duke frowned. "Ah! ah!"--he said slowly, under his breath: "What do
+you fear from the Wildenaus, how can they compromise you?"
+
+The countess, startled, kept silence. She saw that she had betrayed
+herself.
+
+"Madeleine"--he spoke calmly and firmly--"everything must now be
+clearly understood between us. What connection was there between
+Wildenau and that mysterious boy? I must know, for I see that that is
+the quarter whence the danger which you fear is threatening you, and I
+must know how to avert it--you have just heard that _your_ honor is
+_mine_.' There was a shade of sternness in his tone, the sternness of
+an resolve to take this weak, wavering woman under his protection.
+
+"The child"--she faltered, trembling from head to foot--"ah, no--there
+is nothing more to be feared from him--he is dead!"
+
+"Dead?" asked the duke gently. "Since when?"
+
+"Since yesterday!" And the proud countess, sobbing uncontrollably, sank
+upon his breast.
+
+A long silence followed.
+
+The duke passed his arm around her and let her weep her fill. "My poor
+Madeleine--I understand everything." An indescribable emotion filled
+the hearts of both. Not another word was exchanged.
+
+The carriage rolled up to the entrance of the Wildenau palace. Her
+little cold hands clasped his beseechingly.
+
+"Do not desert me!" she whispered hurriedly.
+
+"Less than ever!" he replied gravely and firmly.
+
+"Her Highness is ill!" he said to the servants who came hurrying out
+and helped the tottering woman up the steps. She entered the boudoir,
+where the duke himself removed her cloak. It was a singular sight--the
+haughty figure in full evening dress, adorned with jewels, in the light
+of the dawning day--like some beautiful spirit of the night, left
+behind by her companions who had fled from the first sunbeams, and now
+stood terrified, vainly striving to conceal herself in darkness. "Poor
+wandering sprite, where is the home your tearful eyes are seeking?"
+said the prince, overwhelmed by pity as he saw the grief-worn face.
+"Yes, Madeleine, you are too beautiful for the broad glare of day. Such
+visions suit the veil of evening--the magical lustre of drawing-rooms!
+By day one feels as if the night had been robbed of an elf, who
+having lost her wings by the morning light was compelled to stay
+among common mortals." Carried away by an outburst of feeling, he
+approached her with open arms. A strange conflict of emotion was
+seething in her breast. She had longed for him, as for the culture she
+had despised--she felt that she could not live without him, that
+without him she could not exorcise the spirits she had conjured up to
+destroy her, her ear listened with rapture to the expression of love in
+cultured language, but when he strove to approach her--it seemed as if
+that unapproachable something which had cried "Noli me tangere!" had
+established its throne in her own heart since she had knelt among the
+beggars early that morning, and now, in spite of herself, cried in its
+solemn dignity from her lips the "Noli me tangere" to another.
+
+And, without words, the duke understood it, respected her mute denial,
+and reverently drew back a step.
+
+"Do you not wish to change your dress, you are utterly exhausted. If it
+will be a comfort to you to have me stay, I will wait till you have
+regained your strength. Then I will beg permission to breakfast with
+you!" he said with his wonted calmness.
+
+"Yes, I thank you!" she answered--with a two-fold meaning, and left the
+room with a bearing more dignified than the duke had ever seen, as
+though she had an invisible companion of whom she was proud.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+                          ATTEMPTS TO RESCUE.
+
+
+The countess remained absent a long time, while the duke sat at the
+window of the boudoir gazing out into the frosty winter morning, but
+without seeing what was passing outside. Before him lay a shattered
+happiness, a marred destiny. The happiness was his, the destiny hers.
+"There is surely nothing weaker than a woman--even the strongest!" he
+thought, shaking his head mournfully. Ought we not to punish this
+personator of Christ, who used his mask to break into the citadel of
+our circle and steal what did not belong to him? Pshaw, how could the
+poor fellow help it if an eccentric woman out of ennui--ah, no, we
+should not think of it! But--what is to be done now? Shall I sacrifice
+this superb creature to an insipid prejudice, because she sacrificed
+herself and everything else to a childish delusion? Where is the man
+pure enough to condemn you because when you give, you give wholly,
+royally, and in your proud self-forgetfulness fling what others would
+outweigh with kingly crowns into the lap of a beggar who can offer you
+nothing in exchange, not even appreciation of your value--which he is
+too uncultured to perceive.
+
+"Alas! such a woman--to be thrown away on such a man! And should I not
+save her? Should I weakly desert her--I, the only person who can
+forgive because I am the only one who _understands_ her?--No! It would
+be against all the logic of destiny and reason, were I to suffer such a
+life to be wrecked by this religious humbug. What is the use of my cool
+brain, if I lose my composure _now_? _Allons donc_! I will bid defiance
+to fate and to every prejudice, clasp her in my arms, and destroy the
+divine farce!"
+
+Such was the train of the duke's thoughts. But his pale face and
+joyless expression betrayed what he would not acknowledge to himself:
+that his happiness was shattered. He gathered up the fragments and
+tried to join them together--but with the secret grief with which we
+bear home some loved one who could not be witheld from a dangerous
+path, knowing that, though the broken limbs may be healed, he can never
+regain his former strength.
+
+"So grave, Duke?" asked a voice which sent the blood to his heart. The
+countess had entered--her step unheard on the soft carpet.
+
+He started up: "Madeleine--my poor Madeleine! I was thinking of you and
+your fate!"
+
+"I have saddened you!" she said, clasping her hands penitently.
+
+"Oh, no!" he drew the little hands down to his lips, and with a
+sorrowful smile kissed them.
+
+"My cheerfulness can bear some strain--but the malapert must be
+permitted to be silent sometimes when there are serious matters to be
+considered."
+
+"You are too noble to let me feel that you are suffering. Yet I see
+it--you would not be the man you are if you did not suffer to-day."
+
+The duke bit his lips, it seemed as if he were struggling to repress a
+tear: "Pshaw--we won't be sentimental! You have wept enough to-day! The
+world must not see tear-stains on your face. Give me a cup of coffee--I
+do not belong to the chosen few whom a mortal emotion raises far above
+all the needs of their mortal husk."
+
+The countess rang for breakfast.
+
+The servant brought the dishes ordered into the boudoir, as the
+dining-room was not yet thoroughly heated. In the chimney-corner beside
+the blazing fire the coffee was already steaming in a silver urn over
+an alcohol lamp, filling the cosy room with its aroma and musical
+humming.
+
+"How pleasant this is!" said the duke, throwing himself into an
+armchair beside the grave mistress of the house.
+
+"I will pour it myself," she said to the servant who instantly
+withdrew. The countess was now simply dressed in black, without an
+ornament of any kind, and with her hair confined in a plain knot.
+
+"What a contrast!" the duke remarked, smiling--"you alone are capable
+of such metamorphoses. Half an hour ago in a court costume, glittering
+with diamonds, an aching heart, and hands half frozen from being
+clasped in prayer in the chilled church, now a demure little housewife,
+peacefully watching the coffee steam in a cosy little room, waiting
+intently for the moment when the water will boil, as if there were no
+task in the whole world more important than that of making a good
+decoction."
+
+A faint smile glided over the countess' face--she had nearly allowed
+the important moment to pass. Now she poured out the coffee,
+extinguished the spirit lamp, and handed her companion a cup of the
+steaming beverage.
+
+"A thousand thanks! Ah, that's enough to brighten the most downcast
+mood! What comfort! Now let us enjoy an hour of innocent, genuine
+plebeian happiness. Ah--how fortunate the people are who live so every
+day. I should be the very man to enjoy such bliss!" His glance wandered
+swiftly to the countess' empty cup. "Aha! I thought so! A great sorrow
+must of course be observed by mortifying the body, in order to be sure
+to succumb to it. Well, then the guest must do the honors of the
+hostess! There, now _ma chère Madeleine_ will drink this, and dip this
+buscuit into it! One can accomplish that, even without an appetite. Who
+would wish to make heart and stomach identical!"
+
+The countess, spite of her protestations, was forced to obey. She saw
+that the duke had asked for breakfast only to compel her to eat.
+
+"There. You see that it can be done. I enjoy with a touch of emotion
+this coffee which your dear hands have prepared. If you would do the
+same with the cup I poured out what a sentimental breakfast it would
+be!" A ray of the old cheerfulness sparkled in the duke's eyes.
+
+"Ah, I knew that with you alone I should find peace and cheer!" said
+the countess, brightening.
+
+"So much the better." The duke lighted a cigarette and leaned
+comfortably back in his chair.
+
+The countess ordered the coffee equipage to be removed and then sat
+down opposite to him with her hands clasped in her lap.
+
+"The main point now, my dear Madeleine, if I may be allowed to speak of
+these things to you, is to release you from the cause of all the
+trouble--I need not name him. Of course I do not know how easy or how
+difficult this may be, because I am ignorant how far you are involved
+in this relation and unfortunately lack the long locks of the Christ,
+which would enable me successfully to play the part of the 'Good
+Shepherd,' who freed the imprisoned lamb from the thicket."
+
+"As if it depended on that!" said the countess.
+
+"Not at all? Oh, women, women! What will not a few raven locks do? The
+destiny of your lives turns upon just such trifles. Imagine that
+Ammergau Christus with close-cropped hair and a bristling red beard!
+Would that mask have suited the illusion to which you sacrificed
+yourself? Hardly!"
+
+The countess made no reply, silenced by the pitiless truth, but at last
+she thought she must defend herself. "And the religious impression, the
+elevation, the enthusiasm--the revelations of the Passion Play, do you
+count these nothing?"
+
+"Certainly not! I felt them myself, but, believe me, you would not have
+transferred them to the person, if the representative of Christ had
+worn a wig, and the next day had appeared before you with stiff,
+closely-cropped red hair."
+
+The countess made a gesture of aversion.
+
+"There, now you see the realist again. Yet, say what you will, a few
+locks of raven hair formed the net in which the haughty, clever
+Countess Wildenau was prisoned!"
+
+"You may be right, the greatest picture consists of details, and may be
+spoiled by a single one. I will confess it--Yes! The harmony of the
+whole person, down to the most trifling detail, with the Christ
+tradition, enthralled me, and had the locks been wanting, the
+impression would not have been complete. But, however I may have been
+deceived in the image, I cannot let myself and him sink so low in your
+opinion as to permit you to believe that it was nothing save an
+ensnaring outward semblance which sealed my fate! Had not his spiritual
+nature completed the illusion--matters would never have gone so far."
+
+"Yes, yes, I can imagine how it happened. You prompted the part, and he
+had skill enough to play to the prompter, as it is called in the
+parlance of the stage."
+
+"'Skill' is not the right word, he was influenced precisely as I was."
+
+"Ah! He probably would not have been so foolish as to refuse such a
+chance. A wealthy, beautiful woman--like you--"
+
+"No, no, do not speak of him in that way. I cannot let that accusation
+rest upon him. He is not base! He is uncultured, has the narrow-minded
+views of a peasant, is sensitive and capricious, an unfortunate
+temperament, with which it is impossible to live happily--but I know no
+one in the world, to whom any ignoble thought is more alien."
+
+The prince gazed at her admiringly. Tears were sparkling in her eyes.
+"I don't deny that I am bitterly disappointed in him--but though I love
+him no longer, I must not allow him to be insulted. He loved me and
+sacrificed his poor life for mine--that the compensation did not
+outweigh the price was no fault of his, and I ought not to make him
+responsible for it."
+
+The duke became very thoughtful. The countess was silent, she had
+clasped her hands on her knee, and was gazing, deeply moved, into
+vacancy.
+
+"You are a noble woman, Madeleine!" he said in a low tone. "I always
+ranked you high, but never higher than at this moment! I will never
+again wound your feelings. But however worthy of esteem Freyer
+may be, deeply as I pity the unfortunate man--you are my first
+consideration--and you cannot, must not continue in this relation.
+Throughout the whole system of the universe the lower existence must
+yield to the higher. You are the higher--therefore Freyer must be
+sacrificed! You are a philosopher--accept the results of your view of
+the world, be strong and resolve to do what is inevitable quickly. You
+yourself say that you no longer love him--whether you have ever done
+so, I will not venture to decide! If he is really what you describe him
+to be, he must feel this and--I believe, that he, too, is not to be
+envied. What kind of respite is this which you are granting the hapless
+man under the sword of the executioner. Pardon me, but I should term it
+torture. You feign, from motives of compassion, feelings you no longer
+have, and he feels the deception. So he is continually vibrating
+between the two extremes of fear and hope--a prey to the most torturing
+doubts. So you permit the victim whom you wish to kill to live, in
+order to destroy him slowly. You pity him--and for pity are cruel."
+
+The countess cast a startled glance at him. "You are terribly
+truthful."
+
+"I must say that I am sorry for that man," the duke went on in his
+usual manner. "I think it is your duty to end this state of things. If
+he has a good, mentally sound character, he will conquer the blow and
+shape his life anew. But such a condition of uncertainty would unnerve
+the strongest nature. This cat and mouse sport is unworthy of you! You
+tried it with me ten years ago in a less painful way--I, knowing women,
+was equal to the game, so no harm was done, and I could well allow you
+the graceful little pastime. It is different with Freyer. A man of his
+stamp, who stakes his whole life upon a single feeling, takes the
+matter more tragically, and the catastrophe was inevitable. But must
+romance be carried to tragedy? See, my dear friend, that it is confined
+within its proper limits. Besides, you have already paid for it dearly
+enough--it has left an indelible impress upon your soul--borne a fruit
+which matured in suffering and you have buried with anguish because
+destiny itself, though with a stern hand, tried to efface the
+consequences of your error. Heed this portent, for your sake and his
+own! I speak in his behalf also. My aim is not only to win you, but to
+see the woman whom I have won worthy of herself and the high opinion I
+cherish of her."
+
+The countess' features betrayed the most intense emotion. What should
+she do? Should she tell this noble man all--confess that she was
+_married_. The hour that he discovered it, he would desert her. Must
+she lose him, her last support and consolation? No, she dared not. The
+drowning woman clung to him; she knew not what was to come of it--she
+only knew that she would be lost without him--and kept silence.
+
+"Where is he? In the old hunting-box of which your cousin Wildenau
+spoke?" asked the duke after a long pause.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"As what?"
+
+"As steward."
+
+"Steward? H'm!"
+
+The duke shook his head. "What a relation; you made the man you loved
+your servant, and believed that you could love him still? How little
+you knew yourself! Had you seen him on the mountains battling with wind
+and storm as a wood-cutter, a shepherd, but free, you might have
+continued to love him. But as 'the steward' at whom the servants look
+with one eye as their equal, with the other as their mistress'
+favorite--never! You placed him in a situation where he could not help
+despising himself--how could you respect him? But a woman like you no
+longer loves where she can no longer esteem!" He was silent a moment,
+then with sudden determination exclaimed: "Do you understand what I say
+now? Not free yourself from him--but free _him_ from _himself_! You
+have done the same thing as the giantess who carried the farmer and his
+plough home in her apron. Do you understand what a deep meaning
+underlies Chamisso's comical tale? The words with which the old giant
+ordered her to take her prize back to the spot where she found it, say
+everything: 'The peasant is no plaything.' Only in the sphere where a
+man naturally belongs is he of value, but this renders him too good for
+a toy. You have transplanted Freyer to a sphere in which he ceased to
+have any value to you and are now making him play a part there which I
+would not impose on my worst enemy."
+
+"Yes, you are right."
+
+"Finally we owe it to those who were once dear to us, not to make them
+ridiculous! Or do you believe that Freyer, if he had the choice, would
+not have pride enough to prefer the most cruel truth to a compassionate
+lie?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And still more. We owe it to the law of truthfulness, under which we
+stand as moral beings, not to continue deliberately a deception which
+was perhaps unconsciously begun. When self-respect is lost--all is
+lost."
+
+The duke rose: "It is time for me to go. Consider my advice, I can say
+nothing more in your interest and his."
+
+"But what shall I do--how am I to find a gentle way--oh! Heaven, I
+don't know how to help myself."
+
+"Do nothing at present, everything is still too fresh to venture upon
+any positive act--the wounds would bleed, and what ought to be severed
+would only grow together the more firmly. Go away for a time. You are
+out of favor with the queen. What is more natural than to go on a
+journey and sulk. To the so-called steward also, this must at present
+serve for a pretext to avoid a tragical parting scene."
+
+"Go now! Now!--leave--you?" she whispered, blushing as she spoke.
+
+"Madeleine," he said gently, drawing her hand to his breast. "How am I
+to interpret this blush? Is it the sign of a sweeter feeling, or
+embarrassment because circumstances have led you to say something which
+I might interpret differently from your intention?"
+
+She bent her head, blushing still more deeply.
+
+"Perhaps you do not know yourself--I will not torture you with
+questions, which your agitated heart cannot answer now. But if anything
+really does bind you to me, then--I would suggest your joining my
+father at Cannes. If even the faintest feeling of affection for me is
+stirring within you, you will understand that we could never be nearer
+to each other than while you were learning to be my old father's
+daughter! Will you?"
+
+"Yes!" she whispered with rising tears, for ever more beautiful, ever
+purer rose before her a happiness which she had forfeited, of which she
+would no longer be worthy, even could she grasp it.
+
+The duke, usually so sharp-sighted, could not guess the source of these
+tears; for the first time he was deceived and interpreted favorably an
+emotion aroused by the despairing perception that all was vain.
+
+He gazed down at her with a ray of love shining in his clear blue eyes,
+and pressed a kiss on her drooping brow. Then raising his hand, he
+pointed upward. "Only have courage, and hold your head high. All will
+yet be well. Adieu!"
+
+He moved away as proudly, calmly and firmly as if success was assured;
+he did not suspect that he was leaving a lost cause.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXV.
+
+                            DAY IS DAWNING.
+
+
+In the quiet chamber in the ancient hunting-castle, on the spot
+formerly occupied by the little bed, a casket now stood on two chairs
+near a wooden crucifix.
+
+Freyer had returned, bringing the body of his child. He had telegraphed
+to the countess, but received in reply only a few lines: "She was
+compelled to set off on a journey at once, her mind was so much
+affected that her physician had advised immediate change of scene to
+avert worse consequences."
+
+A check was enclosed to defray the funeral expenses and bestow a sum on
+Josepha "as a recognition of her faithful service," sufficient to
+enable her to live comfortably in case she wished to rest. Josepha
+understood that this was a gracious form of dismissal. But the royal
+gift which expressed the countess' gratitude did not avail to subdue
+the terrible rancor in her soul, or the harshness of this dismissal.
+
+Morning was dawning. Josepha was changed by illness almost beyond
+recognition, yet she had watched through the night with Freyer beside
+the coffin. Now she again glanced over the letter which had come the
+evening before. "She doesn't venture to send me away openly, and wants
+to satisfy me with money, that I may go willingly. Money, always money!
+I was forced to give up the child, and now I must lose you, too, the
+last thing I have in the world?" she said to Freyer, who was sitting
+silently beside the coffin of his son. Tearing the cheque, she threw it
+on the floor. "There are the fragments. When the child is buried, I
+know where I shall go."
+
+"You will not leave here, Josepha, as long as I remain. Especially now
+that you are ill. I have been her servant long enough. But this is the
+limit where I cease to yield to her caprices. She cannot ask me to give
+you up also, my relative, the only soul in my boundless solitude. If
+she did, I would not do it, for--no matter how lowly my birth, I am
+still her husband; have I no rights whatever? You will stay with me, I
+desire it, and can do so the more positively as my salary is sufficient
+to support you. So you need accept no wages from her."
+
+"Yes, tell her so, say that I want nothing--nothing except to stay with
+you, near my angel's grave." Sobs stifled her words. After a time, she
+continued faintly: "I shall not trouble her long, you can see that."
+
+"Oh, Josepha, don't fancy such things. You are young and will recover!"
+said Freyer consolingly, but his eyes rested anxiously upon her.
+
+She shook her head. "The child was younger still, yet he died of
+longing for his mother, and I shall die of the yearning for him."
+
+"Then let me send for a doctor--you cannot go on in this way."
+
+"Oh, pray don't make any useless ado--it would only be one person more
+to question me about the child, and I shall be on thorns while I am
+deceiving him. You know I never could lie in my life. Leave me in
+peace, no doctor can help me."
+
+Some one rang. Josepha opened the door. The cabinetmaker was bringing
+in a little coffin, which was to take the place of the box containing
+the leaden casket. Her black dress and haggard face gave her the
+semblance of a mother mourning her own child. Nothing was said during
+the performance of the work. Josepha and Freyer lifted the metal casket
+from the chest and placed it in the plain oak coffin. The man was paid
+and left the room. Freyer hastened out and shook the snow from some
+pine branches to adorn the bier. A few icicles which still clung to
+them thawed in the warm room, and the drops fell on the coffin--the
+tears of the forest! The last scion of the princely House of
+Prankenberg lay under frost-covered pine boughs; and a peasant mourned
+him as his son, a maid servant prepared him for his eternal rest. This
+is the bloodless revolution sometimes accomplished amid the ossified
+traditions of rank, which affords the insulted idea of universal human
+rights moments of loving satisfaction.
+
+The two mourners were calm and quiet. They seemed to have a premonition
+that this moment possessed a significance which raised it far above
+personal grief.
+
+An hour later the pastor came--a few men and maid-servants formed the
+funeral procession. Not far from the castle, in the wood, stood a
+ruinous old chapel. The countess had permitted the child to be buried
+there because the churchyard was several leagues away. "It is a great
+deal of honor for Josepha's child to be placed in the chapel of a noble
+family!" thought the people. "If haughty old Count Wildenau knew it, he
+would turn in his grave!" The coffin was raised and borne out of the
+castle. Josepha, leaning on Freyer, followed silently with fixed,
+tearless eyes and burning cheeks. Yet she succeeded in wading through
+the snow and standing on the cold stone floor in the chilly chapel
+beside the grave. But when she returned home, the measure of her
+strength was exhausted. Her laboring lungs panted for breath; her icy
+feet could not be warmed; her heart, throbbing painfully, sent all the
+blood to her brain, which burned with fever, while her thoughts grew
+confused. The terrible chill completed the work of destruction
+commenced by grief. Freyer saw it with unutterable sorrow.
+
+"I must get a doctor!" he said gently. "Come, Josepha, don't stare
+steadily at the empty space where the body lay. Come, I will take you
+to my room and put you on the bed. Everything there will not remind you
+of the boy."
+
+"No, I will stay here," she said, with that cruelty to herself,
+peculiar to sick persons who do not fear death. "Just here!" She clung
+to the uncomfortable sofa on which she sat as if afraid of being
+dragged away by force.
+
+Freyer hastily removed the chairs which had supported the coffin, the
+crucifix, and the candles.
+
+"Yes, put them out, you will soon need them for me. Oh, you
+kind-hearted man. If only you could have the happiness you deserve. You
+merited a better fate. Ah, I will not speak of what she has done to me,
+but her sins against you and the child nothing can efface--nothing!" A
+fit of coughing almost stifled her. But it seemed as if her eyes
+continued to utter the words she had not breath to speak, a feverish
+vengeance glittered in their depths which made Freyer fairly shudder.
+
+"Josepha," he said mildly, but firmly. "Sacrifice your hate to God, and
+be merciful. If you love me, you must forgive her whom I love and
+forgive."
+
+"Never!" gasped Josepha with a violent effort "Joseph--oh! this pain in
+my chest--I believe it is inflammation of the lungs!"
+
+"Alas!--and there is no one to send for the doctor. The men are all in
+the woods. Go to bed, I beg you, there is not a moment to be lost, I
+must get the doctor myself. I will send the house-maid to you. Keep up
+your courage, I will be as quick as I can!"
+
+And he hurried off, forgetting his grief for his child in his anxiety
+about the last companion of his impoverished life.
+
+The house-maid came in and asked if she could do anything, but Josepha
+wanted no assistance. The anxious girl tried to persuade her to go to
+bed, but Josepha said that she could not breathe lying down. At last
+she consented to eat something. The nourishment did her good, her
+weakness diminished and her breathing grew easier. The girl put some
+wood in the stove and returned to her work in the kitchen. Josepha
+remained lost in thought. To her, death was deliverance--but Freyer,
+what would become of him if he lost her also? This alone rendered it
+hard to die. The damp wood in the stove sputtered and hissed like the
+voices of wrangling women. It was the "fire witch," which always
+proclaims the approach of any evil. Josepha shook her head. What could
+be worse than the evil which had already befallen her poor cousin and
+herself? The fire witch continued to shriek and lament, but Josepha did
+not understand her. A pair of crows perched in an old pine tree outside
+the window croaked so suddenly that she started in terror.
+
+Ah, it was very lonely up here! What would it be when Freyer lived all
+alone in the house and waited months in vain for the heartless woman
+who remembered neither her husband nor her child? She had not troubled
+herself about the living, why should she seek the little grave where
+lay the _dead_?
+
+A loud knock on the door of the house echoed through the silence.
+
+Josepha listened. Surely it could not be the doctor already?
+
+The maid opened it. Heavy footsteps and the voices of men were heard in
+the entry, then a dog howled. The stupid servant opened the door of the
+room and called: "Jungfer Josepha, here are two hunters, who are so
+tired tramping over the snow that they would like to rest awhile. Can
+they come in? There is no fire anywhere else!"
+
+Josepha, though so ill, of course could not refuse admittance to the
+freezing men, who were already on the threshold. Rising with an effort
+from the sofa, she pushed some chairs for the strangers near the stove.
+"I am ill," she said in great embarrassment--"but if you wish to rest
+and warm yourselves here, I beg--"
+
+"We are very grateful," said one of the hunters, a gentleman with a red
+moustache and piercing eyes. "If we do not disturb you, we will gladly
+accept your hospitality. We are not familiar with the neighborhood and
+have lost our way. We came from beyond the frontier and have been
+wading through the snow five hours."
+
+Meanwhile, at a sign from Josepha, the maid-servant had taken the
+gentlemen's cloaks and hunting gear.
+
+"See, this is our booty," said the other hunter. "If we might invite
+you to dine with us, I should almost venture to ask if this worthy lass
+could not roast the hare for us? Our cousin, Countess Wildenau, will
+surely forgive us this little trespass upon her preserves."
+
+"Are you relatives of Countess Wildenau?"
+
+"Certainly, her nearest and most faithful ones!"
+
+Josepha, in her mortal weakness felt as if crushed by the presence of
+these strangers--with their heavy hunting-boots and loud voices. She
+tried to take refuge in the kitchen on the pretense of roasting the
+hare herself. But both gentlemen earnestly protested against it.
+
+"No, indeed, that would be fine business to drive you out of your room
+when you are ill! In that case, we must leave the house at once."
+
+The red-bearded gentleman--Cousin Wildenau himself--sprang from his
+chair and almost forced Josepha to go back to her sofa.
+
+"There, my dear--madam--or miss? Now do me the honor to take your seat
+again and allow us to remain a short time unto the roast is ready, then
+you must dine with us."
+
+A faint smile hovered around Josepha's parched lips. "I thank you, but
+I am too ill to eat."
+
+"You are really very ill"--said the stranger with kindly solicitude.
+"You are feverish. I fear we are disturbing you very much. Pray send us
+away if we annoy you." Yet he knew perfectly well that she could not
+help asking the unbidden guests to stay.
+
+"But my dear--madam--or miss?"--Josepha never answered the
+question--"are you doing nothing to relieve your illness, have you had
+no physician?"
+
+"No we are in such a secluded place, a physician cannot always be had.
+But I am expecting one to-day."
+
+"Why, it is strange to live in this wilderness. And how uncomfortable
+you are, you haven't even a stool," said the red-haired cousin putting
+his huge hunting-muff, after warming it at the stove, under her feet.
+
+Josepha tried to refuse it, but he would not listen.
+"You need not mind us, we are sick nurses ourselves, we commanded a
+sanitary battalion in the war. So we understand a little what to do.
+You are suffering from asthma, it is difficult for you to breathe, so
+you must sit comfortably. There! Now put my cousin's muff at your back.
+That's better, isn't it?"
+
+"But pray--"
+
+"Come, come, come--no contradiction. You must be comfortable."
+
+Josepha was ashamed. The gentlemen were so kind, so solicitous about
+her--there were good people in the world! The neglected, desolate heart
+gratefully appreciated the unusual kindness.
+
+"But I am really astonished to find everything so primitive. Our
+honored cousin really ought to have done something more for your
+comfort. Not even a sofa-cushion, no carpet! I should have thought she
+would have paid more attention to so faithful a--" he courteously
+suppressed the word "servant"--and correcting himself, said:
+"assistant!"
+
+Josepha made no answer, but her lips curled bitterly, significantly.
+
+Wildenau noted it. "Dissatisfied!" escaped his lips, so low that only
+his companion heard it.
+
+"You have been here a long time, I suppose--how many years?
+
+"Have I been with her?" said Josepha frankly. "Since the last Passion
+Play. That will be ten years next summer."
+
+"Ah--true--you are a native of Ammergau!" said the baron, with the
+manner of one familiar with the facts, whose memory has failed for an
+instant. "I suppose you came to the countess at the same time as the
+Christus?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is he a relative of yours?"
+
+"Yes, my cousin."
+
+"He is here still, isn't he?"
+
+"Why, of course."
+
+"He is--her--what is his title?"
+
+"Steward."
+
+"Is he at home?"
+
+"No, he has gone to the city for a doctor."
+
+"Oh, I am very sorry. We should have been glad to make his
+acquaintance. We have heard so many pleasant things about him. A man in
+whom our cousin was so much interested--"
+
+"Then she speaks of him?"
+
+"Oh--to her intimate friends--certainly!" said Wildenau equivocally
+gazing intently at Josepha, whose face beamed with joy at the thought
+that the countess spoke kindly of Freyer.
+
+"Why is he never seen in the city? He must live like a hermit up here."
+
+"Yes, Heaven knows that."
+
+"He ought to visit my cousin sometimes in the city, everybody would be
+glad to know the Ammergau Christus."
+
+"But if she doesn't wish it--!" said Josepha thoughtlessly.
+
+"Why, that would be another matter certainly, but she has never told me
+so. Why shouldn't she wish it?" murmured Wildenau with well-feigned
+surprise.
+
+"Because she is ashamed of him!"
+
+"Ah!" Wildenau almost caught his breath at the significance of the
+word. "But, tell me, why does Herr Freyer--isn't that his name--submit
+to it?"
+
+Josepha shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, what can he do about it?"
+
+A pause ensued. Josepha stopped, as if fearing to say too much. The two
+gentlemen had become very thoughtful.
+
+At last Wildenau resumed the conversation. "I don't understand how a
+man who surely might find a pleasant position anywhere, can be so
+dependent on a fine lady's whims. You won't take it amiss, I see that
+your kinsman's position troubles you--were I in his place I would give
+up the largest salary rather than--"
+
+"Salary?" interrupted Josepha, with flashing eyes. "Do you suppose that
+my cousin would do anything for the sake of a salary? Oh, you don't
+know him. If the countess described him to you in that way, the shame
+is hers!"
+
+Wildenau listened intently. "But, my dear woman, that isn't what I
+meant, you would not let me finish! I was just going to add that such a
+motive would not affect your kinsman, that it could be nothing but
+sincere devotion, which bound him to our cousin--a loyalty which
+apparently wins little gratitude."
+
+"Yes, I always tell him so--but he won't admit it--even though his
+heart should break."
+
+Two dark interlaced veins in Josepha's sunken, transparent temples
+throbbed feverishly.
+
+"But--how do you feel? We are certainly disturbing you!" said the
+baron.
+
+"Oh, no! It does not matter!" replied Josepha, courteously.
+
+"Could you not take us into some other room--the countess doubtless
+comes here constantly--there must be other apartments which can be
+heated."
+
+"Yes, but no fire has been made in them for weeks; the stoves will
+smoke."
+
+"Has not the countess been here for so long?"
+
+"No, she scarcely ever comes now."
+
+"But the time must be very long to you and your cousin--you were
+doubtless accustomed to the countess' visits."
+
+"Certainly," replied Josepha, lost in thought--"when I think how it
+used to be--and how things are now!"
+
+Wildenau glanced around the room, then said softly: "And the little
+son--he is dead."
+
+Josepha stared at him in terror. "Do you know that?"
+
+"I know all. My cousin has his picture in her boudoir, a splendid
+child."
+
+Josepha's poor feverish brain was growing more and more confused. The
+tears she had scarcely conquered flowed again. "Yes, wasn't he--and to
+let such a child die without troubling herself about him!"
+
+"It is inexcusable," said Wildenau.
+
+"If the countess ever speaks of it again, tell her that Josepha loved
+it far more than she, for she followed it to the grave while the mother
+enjoyed her life--she must be ashamed then."
+
+"I will tell her. It is a pity about the beautiful child--was it not
+like an Infant Christ?"
+
+"Indeed it was--and now I know what picture you mean. In Jerusalem,
+where the child was christened, a copy as they called it of the Infant
+Christ hung in the chapel over the baptismal font. The countess
+afterwards bought the picture on account of its resemblance to the
+boy."
+
+"I suppose it resembles Herr Freyer, too?" the baron remarked
+carelessly.
+
+"Somewhat, but the mother more!"
+
+Baron Wildenau began to find the room too warm--and went to the window
+a moment to get the air, while his companion, horrified by these
+disclosures, shook his head. He would gladly have told the deluded
+woman that they had only learned the child's death from a wood-cutter
+whom they met in the forest--but he dared not "contradict" his cousin.
+After a pause, Wildenau again turned to Josepha. He saw that there was
+danger in delay, for at any moment the fever might increase to such a
+degree that she would begin to rave and no longer be capable of making
+a deposition: The truth must be discovered, now or never! He felt,
+however, that Josepha's was no base nature which could be led to betray
+her employer by ordinary means. Caution and reflection were necessary.
+
+"I am really touched by your fidelity to my cousin. Any one who can
+claim such a nature is fortunate. I thank you in her name."
+
+He held out his hand. But she replied with her usual blunt honesty: "I
+don't deserve your thanks, sir. I have not remained here for the sake
+of the countess, but on account of the child and my unfortunate cousin.
+She has been kind to me--but--if I should see her to-day, I would tell
+her openly that I would never forgive her treatment of the child and
+Joseph--no matter what she did. The child is dead and my cousin will
+die too. Thank Heaven, I shall not live to witness it."
+
+"I understand you perfectly--oh, I know my cousin. And--my poor dear
+Fräulein Josepha--I may call you Fräulein now, may I not, since you are
+no longer obliged to pass for the child's mother?--it was an
+unprecedented sacrifice for you--! Alas! My dear Fräulein, you and your
+cousin must be prepared to fare still worse, to be entirely forgotten,
+for I can positively assure you that the countess is about to wed the
+Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim."
+
+"What?" Josepha shrieked loudly.
+
+Wildenau watched her intently.
+
+"She has just gone to Cannes, where the old duke is staying, and the
+announcement of the engagement is daily expected."
+
+"It is impossible--it cannot be!" murmured Josepha, trembling in every
+limb.
+
+"But why not? She is free--has a right to dispose of her hand--"
+Wildenau persisted.
+
+"No--she is not--she cannot marry," cried Josepha, starting from her
+sofa in despair and standing before them with glowing cheeks and red
+hair like a flame which blazes up once more before expiring. "For
+Heaven's sake--it would be a crime!"
+
+"But who is to prevent it?" asked Wildenau breathlessly.
+
+"I!" groaned Josepha, summoning her last strength.
+
+"You?--My dear woman, what can you do?"
+
+"More than you suppose!"
+
+"Then tell me, that we may unite to prevent the crime ere it is too
+late."
+
+"Yes, by Heaven! Before I will allow her to do Joseph this wrong--I
+will turn traitor to her."
+
+"But Herr Freyer has no right to ask the countess not to marry again--"
+
+"No right?" she repeated with terrible earnestness, "are you so sure of
+that?"
+
+"He is only the countess' lover--"
+
+"Her lover?" sobbed Josepha in mingled wrath and anguish: "Joseph, you
+noble upright man--must _this_ be said of you--!"
+
+"I don't understand. If he is not her lover--what is he?"
+
+Josepha could bear no more. "He is her husband--her legally wedded
+husband."
+
+The baron almost staggered under this unexpected, unprecedented
+revelation. Controlling himself with difficulty, he seized the sick
+woman's hand, as if to sustain her lest she should break down, ere he
+had extorted the last disclosure from her--the last thing he must know.
+"Only tell me where and by whom the marriage ceremony was performed."
+
+As if under the gaze of a serpent the victim yielded to the stronger
+will: "At Prankenburg--Martin and I--were witnesses." She slipped from
+his hand, her senses grew confused, her eyes became glassy, her chest
+heaved convulsively in the struggle for breath, but the one word which
+she still had consciousness to utter--was enough for the Wildenaus.
+
+When, a few hours later, Freyer returned with the physician and the
+priest, whom he had thoughtfully brought with him, he found Josepha
+alone on the sofa, speechless, and in the last agonies of death.
+
+The physician, after examining her, said that an acute inflammation of
+the lungs had followed the tuberculosis from which she had long
+suffered and hastened her end. The priest gave her the last sacrament
+and remained with Freyer, sitting beside the bed in which she had been
+laid. The death-struggle was terrible. She seemed to be constantly
+trying to tell Freyer something which she was unable to utter. Three
+times life appeared to have departed, and three times she rallied
+again, as if she could not die without having relieved her heart of its
+burden. Vain! It was useless for Freyer to put his ear to her lips, he
+could not understand her faltering words. It was a terrible night! At
+last, toward morning, she grew calm, and now she could die. Leaning on
+his breast, she ceased her struggles to speak, and slowly breathed her
+last. _She_ had conquered and she now knew that _he_ would conquer
+also. She bowed her head with a smile, and her last glance was fixed on
+him, a look of reconciliation rested on her Matures--her soul soared
+upward--day was dawning!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+                           THE LAST SUPPORT.
+
+
+There was alarm in the Wildenau Palace. The countess had suddenly
+returned, without notifying the servants--in plain words, without
+asking the servants' permission. She had intended to remain absent
+several months--they were not prepared, had nothing ready, nothing
+cleaned, not even a single room in her suite of apartments heated.
+
+She seemed absent-minded, went to her rooms at once, and locked herself
+in. Then her bell rang violently--the servants who were consulting
+together below scattered, the maids darted up the main staircase, the
+men up a side flight.
+
+"I want the coachman, Martin!" was the unexpected order.
+
+"Martin isn't here," the footman ventured to answer--"as we did not
+know ..."
+
+"Then send for him!" replied the countess imperiously. She did not
+appear even to notice the implied reproof. Then she permitted the
+attendant to make a fire on the hearth, for it was a raw, damp day in
+early spring, and after her stay in Cannes, the weather seemed like
+Siberia.
+
+Half an hour elapsed. Meanwhile the maids were unpacking, and the
+countess was arranging a quantity of letters she had brought with her.
+They were all numbered, and of ancient date. Among them was one from
+Freyer, written four weeks previously, containing only the words:
+
+"Even in death, Josepha has filled a mother's place to our child--she
+has rested in the chapel with him since this morning. I think you will
+not object to her being buried there.
+
+                                                      "Joseph."
+
+The countess again glanced at the letter, her eyes rested on the errors
+in orthography. Such tragical information, with so terrible a reproach
+between the lines--and the effect--a ludicrous one! She would gladly
+have effaced the mistakes in order not to be ashamed of having given
+this man so important a part in the drama of her life--but they stood
+there with the distinctness of a boy's unpractised hand. A man who
+could not even write correctly! She had not noticed it before, he wrote
+rarely and always very briefly--or had she possessed no eyes for his
+faults at that time? Yes, she must have been blind, utterly blind. She
+had not answered the letter. Now she tore it up and threw it into the
+fire. Josepha's death would have been a deliverance to her, had she not
+a few weeks later received another letter which she now read once more,
+panting for breath. But, however frequently she perused its contents,
+she found only that old Martin entreated her to return--Josepha had
+"blabbed."
+
+That one word in the stiff hand of the faithful old servant, which
+looked as if it might have been scrawled with a match upon paper
+redolent of the odors of the stable, had so startled the countess that
+she left Cannes by the first train, and traveled day and night to reach
+home. A nervous restlessness made the sheet tremble in her hand as she
+thrust it into the flames. Then she paced restlessly to and fro. Martin
+was keeping her waiting so long.
+
+A little supper had been hurriedly prepared and was now served. But
+the countess scarcely touched the food and, complaining that the
+dining-room was cold, crept back to her boudoir. At last, about half
+past nine, Martin was announced. He had gone to bed and they had been
+obliged to rouse him.
+
+"Is Your Highness going out?" asked the footman, who could not
+understand the summons to Martin.
+
+"If I am, you will receive orders for the carriage," replied his
+mistress, and a flash from her eyes silenced the servant. "Let Martin
+come in!" she added in a harsh, imperious tone.
+
+The man opened the door.
+
+"You are dismissed for to-night. The lights can be put out," she added.
+
+Martin stood, hat in hand, awaiting his mistress' commands. A few
+minutes passed, then the countess noiselessly went to the door to see
+that the adjoining rooms were empty and that no one was listening. When
+she returned she drew the heavy curtains over the door to deaden every
+sound. Then her self-control gave way and rushing to the old coachman
+she grasped his hand. "Martin, for Heaven's sake, what has happened?"
+
+Tears glittered in Martin's eyes, as he saw his mistress' alarm, and he
+took her trembling hands as gently as if they were the reins of a fiery
+blooded horse, on which a curb has been placed for the first time.
+"Ho--ho--dear Countess, only keep quiet, quiet," he said in the
+soothing tones used to his frightened steeds: "All is not lost! I
+didn't let myself be caught, and there's no proof of what Josepha
+blabbed."
+
+"So they tried to catch you? Tell me"--she was trembling--"how did they
+come to you?"
+
+"Well," said Martin clumsily, "this is how it was. They seem to have
+driven Josepha into a corner. At her funeral the cook told me that just
+before she died, two strangers came to the house and had a long
+conversation with the sick woman. When the hare she was ordered to cook
+was done, she carried it up. But the people in the room were talking so
+loud that she didn't dare go in and stood at the door listening.
+Something was said about the countess' favor and a crime, and Josepha
+was terribly excited. Suddenly she heard nothing more, Josepha
+stammered a few unintelligible words, and the gentlemen came out with
+faces as red as fire. They left the hare in the lurch--and off they
+went. Josepha died the same night. Then I thought they might be the
+Barons von Wildenau, because their coachman had often tried to pump me
+about our countess, and I said to myself, 'now I'll do the same to
+him.' And sure enough I found out that the gentlemen had gone away, and
+where? To Prankenberg!"
+
+The countess turned pale and sank into an arm-chair. "There,
+there--Your Highness, don't be troubled," Martin went on calmly--"that
+will do them no good, the church books don't lie open on the tavern
+tables like bills of fare, and the old pastor will not let everybody
+meddle with them."
+
+"The old pastor?" cried the countess despairingly--"he is dead, and
+since my father, the prince, has grown weak-minded, the patronage has
+lapsed to the government. The new pastor has no motive for showing us
+any consideration."
+
+"So the old pastor is dead? H'm, H'm!" Martin for the first time shook
+his head anxiously. "If one could only get a word from His Highness the
+Prince--just to find out whether the marriage was really entered in the
+record."
+
+"Yes, if we knew that!"
+
+Martin smiled with a somewhat embarrassed look. "I ventured to take a
+little liberty--and went--I thought I would try whether I could find
+out anything from him? Because His Highness--you remember--followed us
+to Prankenberg."
+
+"Very true!" The countess nodded in the utmost excitement. "Well?"
+
+"Alas!--it was useless! His Highness doesn't know anybody, can remember
+nothing. When you go over to-morrow, you will see that he can't live
+long. His Highness is perfectly childish. Then he got so excited that
+we thought he would lose his breath, and at last had to be put to bed.
+I could not help weeping when I saw it--such a stately gentleman--and
+now so helpless!"
+
+The countess listened to this report with little interest. Her father
+had been nothing to her while he retained his mental faculties--now, in
+a condition of slow decay, he was merely a poor invalid, to whom she
+performed the usual filial duties.
+
+"Go on, go on," she cried impatiently, "you are not telling the story
+in regular order. When did you see my father?"
+
+"A week ago, after my talk with the gentlemen."
+
+"That is the main thing--tell me about that."
+
+"Why, it was this way: I was sitting quietly at the tavern one night,
+when Herr von Wildenau's coachman came to me again and said that his
+master wanted to talk with me about our bay mare with the staggers
+which he would like to harness with his bay. I was glad that we could
+get the mare off on him."
+
+"Fie, Martin!"
+
+"Why--if nobody tried to cheat, there wouldn't be any more
+horse-trading! So I told him I thought the countess would sell the
+mare--we had no mate for her and I would inform Your Highness. No, the
+gentleman would write directly to Her Highness--only I must go to them,
+they wanted to talk with me. Well--I went, and they shut all the doors
+and pulled the curtains over them, just as your Highness did, and then
+they began on the bay and promised me a big fee, if I would get her
+cheap for them. Every coachman takes a fee," the old man added in an
+embarrassed tone, "it's the custom--you won't be vexed, Countess--so I
+made myself a bit important and pretended that it depended entirely on
+me, and I would make Her Highness so dissatisfied with the mare that
+she would be glad to get rid of her cheap, and--all the rest of the
+things we coachmen say! So the gentlemen thought because I bargained
+with them about one thing, I would about another. But that was quite
+different from a horse-trade, and my employers are no animals to be
+sold, so they found that they had come to the wrong person. If I would
+make a little extra money by getting rid of a poor animal, which we had
+long wanted to sell, I'm not the rascal to take thousands from anybody
+to deprive my employers of house and home. And the poor old Prince,
+who can no longer help himself, would perhaps be left to starve in his
+old age. No, the gentlemen were mistaken in old Martin, they don't
+know what it is"--tears were streaming down the old man's wrinkled
+cheeks--"to put such a little princess on a horse for the first time
+and place the reins in her tiny hands."
+
+"Please go on Martin," said the countess gently, scarcely able to exert
+any better control over herself. "What did they offer you?"
+
+"A great deal of money, if I would bear witness in court that you were
+married."
+
+"Ah!"--the terrified woman covered her face with her hands.
+
+"There--there, Countess," said Martin, soothingly. "I haven't finished!
+Hold your head up. Your Highness, I beg you, this is no time to be
+faint-hearted, we must be on the watch and keep the reins well in hand,
+that they may not get the start of us."
+
+"Yes, yes! Go on!"
+
+"Well, they tried to catch me napping. They knew everything, and I had
+been a witness of the wedding at Prankenberg!"
+
+"Good Heavens!" The countess seemed paralyzed.
+
+Martin laughed. "But I didn't let myself be caught--I looked as stupid
+as if I couldn't bridle a horse, and had never heard of any wedding in
+all my days except our Princess' marriage to the late Count. Of course
+I was at the church then, with all the other servants. Then the
+gentlemen muttered something in French--and asked what wages I had, and
+when I told them, they said they were too low for such rich employers,
+and began to make me offers till they reached fifty thousand marks, if
+I would state what they wanted. Yes, and then they told me you were
+capable of marrying two men and meant to take the duke as well as the
+steward, and they didn't want to have such a crime in the family--so I
+must help them prevent it. But this didn't move me at all, and I said:
+'That's no concern of mine; my mistress knows what to do!' So off I
+went, and left the gentlemen staring like balky horses when they don't
+want to pass anything. Then I went to the Prince, and as I could learn
+nothing there, I knew of no other way than to write to Your Highness. I
+hope you'll pardon the liberty."
+
+"Oh, Martin, you trusty old servant! Your simple loyalty shames me; but
+I fear that your sacrifice is useless--they know all, Martin, nothing
+can save me."
+
+Martin smiled craftily into the bottom of his hat, as if it was the
+source of his wisdom, "I think just this: If the gentlemen _do_ know
+everything, they have got to _prove_ it, for Josepha is dead, and if
+they had found the information they wanted at Prankenberg, they needn't
+offer so much money for my testimony!"
+
+The countess pressed her hand upon her head: "I don't know, I can't
+think any more. Oh, Martin, how shall I thank you? If the stroke of the
+pen which will give you the fifty thousand marks you scorned to receive
+from the Wildenaus can repay you--take it, but I shall still be your
+debtor." She hurriedly wrote a few words. "There is a check for fifty
+thousand marks, cash it early to-morrow morning. Don't delay an hour,
+any day may be the last that I shall have anything to give. Take it
+quickly."
+
+But Martin shook his head. "Why, what is Your Highness thinking of? I
+don't want to be paid, like a bribed witness, for doing only my duty.
+There would have been no credit in refusing the money, if I took it
+afterward from Your Highness. No, I thank you most humbly--but I can't
+do it."
+
+The countess was deeply ashamed. "But if I lose my property, Martin, if
+they begin a law-suit--I can no longer reward your fidelity. Have you
+considered that everything can be taken from me if they succeed in
+proving that I am married?"
+
+Martin nodded: "Yes, yes, I know our late master's will. I believe he
+was jealous and wanted to prevent the countess from marrying again. But
+you needn't be troubled about me, I've saved enough to buy a little
+home which, in case of need, might shelter the countess and Herr
+Freyer, too. I have had it all from you!" Martin's broad face beamed
+with joy at the thought.
+
+"Martin!"--she could say no more. Martin did not know what had
+happened--surely the skies would fall--the countess had sunk upon his
+breast, the broad old breast in which throbbed such a stupid, honest
+heart! He stood as motionless as a post or the pile of a bridge, to
+which a drowning person clings. But, during all the sixty-five years
+his honest heart had beat under the Prankenberg livery, it had never
+throbbed so violently as at this moment. His little princess! She was
+in his arms again as in the days when he placed her in the saddle for
+the first time. Then she wept and clung to him whenever the horse made
+a spring, but he held her firmly and she felt safe in his care--now she
+again wept and clung to him in helpless terror--but now she was a
+stately woman who had outgrown his protection!
+
+"There--there, Countess," he said, soothingly. "God will help you. Go
+to rest. You are wearied by the long journey. To-morrow you will see
+everything with very different eyes. And, as I said before, if all the
+ropes break--then you will find lodging with old Martin. You always
+liked peasants' fare. Don't you remember how you used to slip in to the
+coachman's little room and shared my bread and cheese till the
+governess found it out and spoiled our fun? Yes, yes, bread and cheese
+were forbidden dainties, and yet they were God's gift which even the
+poorest might enjoy. You must remember the coachman's little room and
+how they tasted! Well, we haven't gone so far yet, and Your Highness'
+friends will not suffer it. Yet, if matters ever _did_ come to that, I
+believe Your Highness would rather accept a home from me than from any
+of these noblemen."
+
+"You may be right there!" said the countess, with a thoughtful nod.
+
+"May God guard Your Highness from either.--Has Your Highness any
+farther orders?"
+
+"Yes, my good Martin. Go early to-morrow morning to the Prince--or
+rather the Duke of Metten-Barnheim--and ask him to call on me at ten
+o'clock."
+
+"Alas--the duke went to shoot black cock this morning--I suppose he
+didn't know that Your Highness was coming?"
+
+"Certainly not How long will he be away?"
+
+"Till the end of the week, his coachman told me."
+
+"This too!" She stood in helpless despair.
+
+"The coachman said that His Highness was going to Castle
+Sternbach--perhaps Your Highness might telegraph there!"
+
+"Yes, my good old friend--you are right!" And with eager haste she
+wrote a telegram. "There it is, Martin, it will reach him somewhere!"
+
+And she remembered the message despatched nine years before, after the
+Passion Play, to the man whom she was now recalling as her last
+support. At that time she informed him that she should stay in Ammergau
+and let the roses awaiting her at home wither--now she remained at home
+and let the roses that bloomed for her in Ammergau languish.
+
+The coachman, as if reading the mute language of her features and the
+bitter expression of her compressed lips, asked timidly: "I suppose
+Your Highness will not drive to the Griess."
+
+"No!" she said, so curtly and hastily that it cut short any farther
+words.
+
+For the first time a shadow flitted over honest Martin's face. Sadly,
+almost reproachfully, he wished his beloved mistress "a good night's
+rest," and stumbled wearily out. It had hurt him,--but "the last thing
+he had discovered," he did not venture, out of respect to his employer,
+to express even to himself.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+                     BETWEEN POVERTY AND DISGRACE.
+
+
+Three weary days had passed. The countess was ill. At least she
+permitted her household to believe that she was unable to leave her
+room. No one was allowed to know that she had returned, and the windows
+of the Wildenau Palace remained closed, as when the owner was absent
+Thus condemned to total inactivity in the twilight of her apartments,
+she became the helpless prey of her gnawing anxiety. The third day
+brought a glimmer of hope, a telegram from the duke: "I will come at
+six this evening."
+
+The countess trembled and turned pale as she read the lines. What was
+to be done now? She did not know, she only felt that the turning-point
+of her life had come.
+
+"The Duke of Metten-Barnheim will call this evening and must be
+admitted, but no one else!" were the orders given to the servant.
+
+Then, to pass away the time, she changed her dress. If she was to be
+poor and miserable, to possess nothing she formerly owned; she would at
+least be beautiful, beautiful as the setting sun which irradiates
+everything with rosy light.
+
+And with the true feminine vanity which coquets with death and finds a
+consolation in being beautiful even in the coffin, she chose for the
+momentous consultation impending one of the most bewitching negligeé
+costumes in her rich wardrobe. Ample folds of rose-colored _crêpe de
+chine_ were draped over an under-dress of pink plush, which reflected a
+thousand shades from the deepest rose to the palest flesh color, the
+whole drapery loosely caught with single grey pearls. How long would
+she probably possess such garments? She perhaps wore it to-day for the
+last time. Her trembling hand was icy cold, as she wound a pink ribbon
+through her curls and fastened it with a pearl clasp.
+
+There she stood, like Aphrodite, risen from the foam of the sea,
+and--she smiled bitterly--she could not even raise herself from the
+mire into which a single error had lured her. Then she was again
+overwhelmed by an unspeakable consciousness of misery, her disgrace,
+which made all her splendor seem a mockery. She was on the point of
+stripping off the glittering robe when the duke was announced. It was
+too late to change.
+
+She hurried into the boudoir to meet him--floating in like a roseate
+cloud.
+
+"How beautiful!" exclaimed the duke, admiringly; "you look like a
+bride! It must be some joyful cause which brought you back here so soon
+and made you send for me."
+
+"On the contrary, Duke--a bride of misfortune--a penitent who would
+fain varnish the ugliness of her guilt in her friend's eyes by outward
+beauty."
+
+"H'm! That would be at any rate a useless deed, Madeleine; for
+beautiful as you are, I do not love you for your beauty's sake. Nor is
+it for your virtues--you never aspired to be a saint, not even in
+Ammergau, where you least succeeded! What I love is the whole grand
+woman with all her faults, who seems to have been created for me, in
+spite of the obstacles reared between us by temperament and
+circumstances. The latter are accidents which may prevent our union,
+but which cannot deprive me of my share in you, the part which _I_
+alone understand, and which I shall love when I see you before me as a
+white-haired matron, weary of life--perhaps then for the first time."
+
+Emotion stifled the countess' words. She drew him down upon a chair by
+her side and sank feebly upon the cushions of her divan.
+
+"Oh, how cold your hands are!" said the duke, gazing with loving
+anxiety into her eyes. "You alarm me. Spite of your rosy glimmer, you
+are pale as your own pearls. And now pearls in your eyes too?
+Madeleine--my poor tortured Madeleine--what has happened?"
+
+"Oh, Duke--help, advise me--or all is lost. The Wildenaus have
+discovered my secret. Josepha, that half-crazy girl from Ammergau, has
+betrayed me!"
+
+"So that is her gratitude for the life you saved." The duke nodded as
+if by no means surprised. "It was to be expected from that sort of
+person. Why did you preserve the fool?"
+
+"I could not let her leap into the water."
+
+"Perhaps it would have been better! This sham-saint had not even
+sufficient healthful nature in her to be grateful?"
+
+"Ah, she had reason to hate me, she loved my child more than any
+earthly thing and reproached me for having neglected it. These people
+can imagine love only in the fulfillment of lowly duties and physical
+attendance. That a woman can have no time or understanding of these
+things, and yet love, is beyond their comprehension."
+
+"A fine state of affairs, where the servant makes herself the judge of
+her mistress--nay even discovers in her conduct an excuse for the
+basest treachery. A plain maid-servant, properly reared by her parents,
+would have fulfilled her duty to her employers without philosophizing."
+
+The countess nodded, she was thinking of old Martin.
+
+"But," the duke continued, "extra allowance must of course be made for
+these Ammergau people."
+
+"We will let her rest; she is dead. Who knows how it happened, or the
+struggles through which she passed?"
+
+"Is she dead?"
+
+"Yes, she died just after the child."
+
+"Indeed?" said the duke, thoughtfully, in a gentler tone: "Well, then
+at least she has atoned. But, my dear Madeleine, this does not undo the
+disaster. The Wildenaus will at any rate try to make capital out of
+their knowledge of your secret, and, as the dear cousins are constantly
+incurring gaming and other debts--especially your red-haired kinsman
+Fritz--they will not let slip the opportunity of making their honored
+cousin pay for their discretion the full amount of their notes!"
+
+"Ah, if that were all!"
+
+"That all! What more could there be? I admit that it is unspeakably
+painful for you to know that your honor and your deepest secrets are in
+such hands--but how long will it be ere, if it please God, you will be
+in a position which will remove you from it all, and I--!"
+
+"Duke--Good Heavens!--It is far worse," cried the countess, wringing
+her hands: "Oh, merciful God--at last, at last, it must be told. You do
+not know all, the worst--I had not courage to tell you--are you aware
+of the purport of my late husband's will?"
+
+"Certainly--it runs that you must restore the property, of which he
+makes you sole heiress, to the cousins, if you marry again. What of
+that--do you suppose I ever thought of your millions?" He laughed
+gayly: "I flatter myself that my finances will not permit you to feel
+the withdrawal of your present income when you are my wife."
+
+"Omnipotent Father!--You do not understand me! This is the moment I
+have always dreaded--oh, had I only been truthful. Duke, forgive me,
+pity me, I am the most miserable creature under the sun. I shall not be
+your wife, but a beggar--for I am married, and the Wildenaus know it
+through Josepha!"
+
+There are moments when it seems as if the whole world was silent--as if
+the stars paused in their courses to listen, and we hear nothing save
+the pulsing of the blood in our ears. It is long ere we perceive any
+other sound. This was the case with the duke. For a long time he seemed
+to himself both deaf and blind. Then he heard the low hissing of the
+gas jets, then heavy breathing, and at last the earth began to turn on
+its axis again and things resumed their natural relations.
+
+Yet his energetic nature did not need much time to recover its poise.
+One glance at the hopeless, drooping woman showed him that this was not
+the hour to think of himself--that he never had more serious duties to
+perform than to-day. Now he perceived for the first time that he had
+unconsciously retreated from her half the length of the room.
+
+She held out her hand imploringly, and with the swiftness of thought he
+was once more at her side, clasping it in his own. "I have concealed
+this, deceived your great, noble love--for years--because I perceived
+that you were as necessary to my life as reason and science and all the
+other gifts I once undervalued. I did not venture to reveal the secret,
+lest I should lose you. The moment has come--you will leave me, for you
+must now make another choice--but do not be angry, grant me the _one_
+consolation of parting without rancor."
+
+"We have not yet gone so far. I told you ten minutes ago that the
+accidents of temperament and circumstance may divide us, but cannot rob
+you of what was created for me, we do not part so quickly.--You have
+not deceived me, for you have never told me that you loved me or would
+become my wife, and your bearing was blameless. Your husband might have
+witnessed every moment of our intercourse. Believe me, the slightest
+coquetry, the smallest concession in my favor at your husband's expense
+would find in me the sternest possible judge. But though an unhappy
+wife, you were a loyal one--to that I can bear witness. If I yielded to
+illusions, it is no fault of yours--who can expect a nature so
+delicately strung as yours to make an executioner of the heart of her
+best friend? Those are violent measures which would not accord with the
+sweet weakness, which renders you at once so guilty and so excusable."
+
+The countess hid her face as if overwhelmed by remorse and shame.
+
+"Do not let us lose our composure and trust to me to care for you
+still, for your present position requires the utmost caution and
+prudence. But now, Madeleine--you have no further pretext for not
+telling me the whole truth! Now I must know _all_ to be able to act.
+Will you answer my questions?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then tell me--are you really married to Freyer?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"So the farce must end tragically!" murmured the duke. "I cannot, will
+not believe it--it is too shocking that a woman like you should be
+ruined by the Ammergau farce."
+
+"Not by that; by the presumption with which I sought to draw the deity
+down to me. Oh, it is a hard punishment. I prayed so fervently to God
+and, instead of His face, He showed me a mask and then left me to atone
+for the deception by the repentance of a whole life."
+
+"Ah, can you really believe that the Highest Wisdom would have played
+so cruel a masquerade with you? Why should you be so terribly punished?
+No, _ma chère amie_, God has neither deceived nor wished to punish you.
+He showed Himself in response to your longing, or rather your longing
+made you imagine that you saw Him--and had you been content with that,
+you would have returned home happy with the vision of your God in your
+heart, like thousands who were elevated by the Passion Play. But you
+wanted _more_; you possess a sensuous religious nature, which cannot
+separate the essence from the _appearance_ and, after having _seen_,
+you desired to _possess_ Him in the precise form in which He appeared
+to you! Had it depended upon you, you would have robbed the world of
+its God! Fortunately, it was only Herr Freyer whom you stole, and now
+that you perceive your error you accuse God of having deceived you. You
+talk constantly of your faith in God, and yet have so poor an opinion
+of Him? What had God to do with your imagining that the poor actor in
+the Passion Play, who wore His mask, must be Himself, and therefore
+wedded him!"
+
+The countess made no reply. This was the tone which she could never
+endure. He was everything to her--her sole confidant and counselor--but
+he could not comprehend what she had experienced during the Passion
+Play.
+
+"I am once more the dry sceptic who so often angered you, am I not?"
+said the Prince, whose keen observation let nothing escape. "But I
+flatter myself that you will be more ready to view matters from a sober
+standpoint after having convinced yourself of the dangers of
+intercourse with 'phantoms' and demi-gods, who lure their victims into
+devious paths where they are liable morally to break their necks."
+
+The countess could not help smiling sorrowfully. "You are
+incorrigible!"
+
+"Well, we must take things as they are. As you will not confess that
+you--pardon the frankness--have committed a folly and ruined your life
+for the sake of a fanciful whim, the caprice must be elevated to the
+rank of a 'dispensation of Providence,' and the inactive endurance of
+its consequences a meritorious martyrdom. But I do not believe that God
+is guilty either of your marriage or of your self-constituted
+martyrdom, and therefore I tell you that I do not regard your marriage,
+to use the common parlance, one of those 'made in Heaven'--in other
+words, an _indissoluble_ one."
+
+The countess shrank as though her inmost thoughts were suddenly
+pointing treacherous fingers at her. "Do you take it so lightly, Duke?"
+
+"That I do not take it lightly is proved by the immense digression
+which I made to remove any moral and religious scruples. The practical
+side of the question scarcely requires discussion. But to settle the
+religious moral one first, tell me, was your marriage a civil or
+religious one?"
+
+"Religious."
+
+"When and where?"
+
+"At Prankenberg, after the Passion Play. It will be ten years next
+August."
+
+"How did it all happen?"
+
+"Very simply: My father, who suddenly sought me, as usual when he was
+in debt, saw that I wanted to marry Freyer and, fearing a public
+scandal, advised me, in order to save the property--which he needed
+almost more than I--to marry _secretly_. Wherever the Tridentine
+Council ruled, the sole requisite of a valid marriage was that the two
+persons should state, in the presence of an ordained priest and two
+witnesses, that they intended to marry. As my father was never very
+reliable, and might change his opinion any day, I hastened to follow
+his advice before it occurred to him to put any obstacles in my way, as
+the pastor at Prankenberg was wholly in his power. So I set off with
+Freyer and Josepha that very night. An old coachman, Martin, whose
+fidelity I had known from childhood, lived at Prankenberg. I took him
+and Josepha for witnesses, and we surprised the old pastor while he was
+drinking his coffee."
+
+The prince made a gesture of surprise. "What--over his coffee?"
+
+"Yes--before he could push back his cup, we had made our statement--and
+the deed was done."
+
+The prince started up; his eyes sparkled, his whole manner betrayed the
+utmost agitation. "And you call that being married? And give me this
+fright?" He drew a long breath, as if relieved of a burden. "Madeleine,
+if you had only told me this at once!"
+
+"But why? Does it change the matter?"
+
+"Surely you will not persuade yourself that this farce with the old
+pastor in his dressing-gown and slippers, his morning-pipe and the
+fragrance of Mocha--was a wedding? You will not expect me as a
+Protestant, or any enlightened Catholic, to regard it in that light?"
+
+"But what does the form matter? Protestantism cares nothing for the
+form--it heeds only the meaning."
+
+"But the meaning was lacking--at least to you--to you it was a mere
+form which you owed to the sanctity of your lover's mask of Christus."
+He seized her hand with unwonted passion. "Madeleine, for once be
+truthful to yourself and to me--am I not right?"
+
+"Yes!" she murmured almost inaudibly.
+
+"Well, then--if the _meaning_ was lacking and the chosen form an
+_illegal_ one--what binds you?"
+
+Madeleine was silent. This question was connected with her secret,
+which he would never understand. His nature was too positive to reckon
+with anything except facts. The duke felt that she was withholding an
+answer, not because she had none, but because she did not wish to give
+the true one. But he did not allow himself to be disconcerted. "Did the
+old pastor give you any written proof of this 'sacred rite'--we will
+give it the proud name of a marriage certificate."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who has the document?"
+
+"Freyer!"
+
+"That is unfortunate; for it gives him an apparent right to consider
+himself married and make difficulties, which complicate the case. But
+we can settle with Freyer--I have less fear of him. Your situation is
+more imperilled by this tale of a secret marriage, which Josepha, in
+good faith, brought to the ears of the Wildenaus. This is a disaster
+which requires speedy remedy. In other respects everything is precisely
+as it was when you went to Cannes. This complication changes nothing in
+my opinion. I hold the same view. If you no longer _love_ Freyer, break
+with him; the way of doing so is a minor matter. I leave it to you. But
+break with him and give me your hand--then the whole spectre will melt.
+We will gladly restore the Wildenau property to the cousins, and they
+will then have no farther motive for pursuing the affair."
+
+"Is that true? Could you still think seriously of it--and I, good
+Heavens, must I become doubly a criminal?"
+
+"But, _chère amie_, look at things objectively a little."
+
+"Even if I do look at them objectively, I don't understand how I could
+marry again without being divorced, and to apply for a divorce now
+would be acknowledging the marriage."
+
+"Who is to divorce you, if no one married you? According to civil law,
+you are still single, for you are not registered in accordance with
+your rank--according to religious law you are not married, at least not
+in the opinion of the great majority of Christian countries and sects,
+to whom the Tridentine Council is not authoritative! Will you insist
+upon sacrificing your existence and honor to a sentimental scruple?
+Will you confess to the Wildenaus that you are married? In that case
+you must not only restore the property, but also the interest you have
+illegally appropriated for nine years, which will swallow your little
+private property and rob you of your sole means of support. What will
+follow then? Do you mean to retire with the 'steward' from the scene
+amid the jeering laughter of society, make soup for him at his home in
+Ammergau, live by the labor of his hands, and at Christmas receive the
+gift of a calico gown?"
+
+The countess shuddered, as though shaken by a feverish chill.
+
+"Or will you continue to live on with Freyer as before and suffer the
+cousins to begin an inquiry against you, and afford the world the
+spectacle of seeing you wrangle with them over the property? Then you
+must produce the dogmatic and legal proof that you are not married.
+This certainly would not be difficult--but I must beg you to note
+certain possibilities. If it is decided that your marriage was
+_illegal_, then the question will be brought forward--how did _you
+yourself_ regard it? And it might occur to the Wildenaus' lawyers that,
+no matter whether correctly or not, you considered yourself married and
+intentionally defrauded them of the property!"
+
+"Merciful Heaven!"
+
+"Or will you then escape a criminal procedure by declaring that you
+regarded your connection with Freyer as an illegal marriage?"
+
+"Oh!" the countess crimsoned with shame.
+
+"There the vindication would be more dishonoring than the
+accusation--so you must renounce _that_. You see that you have been
+betrayed into a _circulus vitiosus_ from which you can no longer
+escape. Wherever you turn--you have but the choice between poverty or
+disgrace,--unless you decide to become Duchess of Metten-Barnheim and
+thus, at one bound, spring from the muddy waves which now threaten you,
+into the pure, unapproachable sphere of power and dignity to which you
+belong. My arms are always open to save you--my heart is ready to love
+and to protect you--can you still hesitate?"
+
+The tortured woman threw herself at his feet. "Duke--Emil--save me--I
+am _yours_!"
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+                                PARTING.
+
+
+Several minutes have passed--to the duke a world of happiness--to the
+countess of misery. The duke bent over the beautiful trembling form to
+clasp her in his arms for the first time.
+
+"Have I won you at last--my long-sought love?" he exclaimed,
+rapturously. "Do you now perceive what your dispensations of Providence
+mean? The shrewdness and persistence of a single man who knows what he
+wants, has baffled them, and driven all the heroes of signs and wonders
+from the field! Do you now believe what I said just now: that we are
+our own Providence?"
+
+"That will appear in due time, do not exalt yourself and do not
+blaspheme, God might punish your arrogance!" she said faintly, slipping
+gently from his embrace.
+
+"Madeleine--no betrothal kiss--after these weary years of waiting and
+hoping."
+
+"I am _still_ Freyer's wife," she said, evasively--"not until I am
+parted from him."
+
+"You are right! I will not steal my bride's first kiss from another. I
+thank you for honoring my future right in his." His lips touched her
+brow with a calm, friendly caress. Then he rose: "It is time to go, I
+have not a moment to lose." He glanced at the clock: "Seven! I will
+make my preparations at once and set out for Prankenberg to-morrow."
+
+"What do you wish to do?"
+
+"First of all to see what is recorded in the church register, and to
+ascertain what kind of a man the Catholic pastor is, that I may form
+some idea of what the Wildenaus have discovered and how much proof they
+have obtained. Then we can judge how far we must dissimulate with these
+gentlemen until your relation with Freyer can be dissolved without any
+violent outbreak or without being compelled to use any undue haste. I
+will also go to Barnheim and quietly prepare everything there for our
+marriage. The more quickly all these business matters are settled, the
+sooner our betrothal can be announced. And that I am ardently longing
+to be at last permitted to call you mine, you will--I hope,
+understand?"
+
+"But my relation with Freyer must first be arranged," said the
+countess, evasively. "We cannot dispose of him like an ordinary
+business matter. He is a man of heart and mind--we must remember that I
+could not be happy for an hour, if I knew that he was miserable."
+
+"Yet you have left him alone for weeks and months without any pangs of
+conscience," said the duke with a shade of sternness.
+
+"It was not _I_, but the force of circumstances. What happens now _I_
+shall do--and must bear the responsibility. Help me to provide that it
+is not too heavy." Her face wore a lofty, beautiful expression as she
+spoke, and deeply moved, he raised her hand to his lips.
+
+"Certainly, Madeleine! We will show him every consideration and do
+everything as forbearingly as possible. But remember that, as I just
+respected _his_ rights, you must now guard _mine_, and that every hour
+in which you retain this relation to him longer than necessary--is
+treason to _both_. It cannot suit your taste to play such a part--so do
+not lose a moment in renouncing it."
+
+"Certainly--you are right."
+
+"Will you be strong--will you have the power to do what is
+unavoidable--and do it soon?"
+
+"I have always been able to do what I desired--I can do this also."
+
+The duke took her hand and gazed long and earnestly into her eyes.
+"Madeleine--I do not ask: do you love me? I ask only: do you believe
+that you _will_ love me?"
+
+The profound modesty of this question touched her heart with
+indescribable melancholy, and in overflowing gratitude for such great
+love, which gave all and asked nothing, she bowed her head: "Yes--I do
+believe it."
+
+The duke's usual readiness of speech deserted him--he had no words to
+express the happiness of this moment.
+
+What was that? Voices in the ante-room. The noise sounded like a
+dispute. Then some one knocked violently at the door.
+
+"Come in!" cried the countess, with a strange thrill of fear. The
+footman entered hurriedly with an excited face. "A gentleman, he calls
+himself 'Steward Freyer,' is there, is following close at my heels--he
+would not be refused admittance." He pointed backward to where Freyer
+already appeared.
+
+The countess seemed turned to stone. "Request the steward to wait a
+moment!" she said at last, with the imperiousness of the mistress.
+
+The man stepped back, and they saw him close the door almost by force.
+
+"Do not carry matters too far," said the duke; "he seems to be very
+much excited--such people should not be irritated. Admit him before he
+forces the door and makes a scandal in the presence of the servant. He
+comes just at the right time--in this mood it will be easy for you to
+dismiss him. So end the matter! But be _calm_, have no scene--shall I
+remain at hand?"
+
+"No--I am not afraid--it would be ignoble to permit you to listen to
+him. Trust me, and leave me to my fate."
+
+At this time the voices again grew louder, then the door was violently
+thrown open. Freyer stood within the room.
+
+"What does this mean--am I assaulted in my own house?" cried the
+countess, rebelling against this act of violence.
+
+Freyer stood trembling from head to foot; they could hear his teeth
+chatter: "I merely wished to ask whether it was the Countess Wildenau's
+desire that I should be insulted by her servant."
+
+"Certainly not!" replied the countess with dignity. "If my servant
+insulted you, you shall have satisfaction--only I wish you had asked it
+in a less unseemly way."
+
+The duke quietly took his hat and kissed the countess' hand: "_Restez
+calme_!" Then he passed out, saluting Freyer with that aristocratic
+courtesy which at once irritates and disarms.
+
+Freyer stepped close to the countess, his eyes wandered restlessly, his
+whole appearance was startling: "Everything in the world has its limit,
+even patience--mine is exhausted. Tell me, are you my wife--you who
+stand here in this gay masquerade of laces and pearls--are you the
+mourning mother of a dead child? Is this my wife who decks herself for
+another, shuts herself up with another, or at least gives orders not to
+be disturbed--who has her lackeys keep her wedded husband at bay
+outside with blows--and deems it unseemly if the last remnant of manly
+dignity in his soul rebels and he demands satisfaction from his wife.
+Where is the man, I ask, who would not be frenzied? Where is the woman,
+I ask, who once loved me? Is it you, who desert, betray, make me
+contemptible to myself and others? Where--where--in the wide world is
+there a man so deceived, so trampled under foot, as I am by you? Have
+you any answer to this, woman?"
+
+The countess turned deadly pale, terror almost stifled her. For the
+first time, she beheld the Gorgon, popular fury, in his face and while
+turning to stone the thought came to her: "Would you live _with that_?"
+Horror stole over her--she did not know whether her feeling was fear or
+loathing, she only knew that she must fly from the "turbid waves" ever
+rolling nearer.
+
+There is no armor more impenetrable than the coldness of a dead
+feeling. Madeleine von Wildenau armed herself with it. "Tell me, if you
+please, how you came here, what you desire, and what put you into such
+excitement."
+
+"What--merciful Heaven, do you still ask? I came here to learn where
+you were now, to what address I could write, as you made no reply to my
+announcement of Josepha's death--and I wished to say that I could no
+longer endure this life! While talking with the servant at the door,
+old Martin passed and told me that you were here. I wanted to say one
+last word to you--I went upstairs, found the footman, and asked,
+entreated him to announce me, or at least to inquire when I could speak
+to you! You had a visitor and could not be disturbed, was his scornful
+answer. Then the consciousness of my just rights awoke within me, and I
+_commanded_ him to announce me. You refused to receive me: 'I must
+wait'--I--must wait in the ante-room while you, as I saw through the
+half-opened door, were whispering familiarly with you former suitor!
+Then I forgot everything and approached the door--the servant tried to
+prevent me, I flung him aside, and then--he dealt me a blow in the
+face--that face which you had once likened to the countenance of your
+God--he, your servant. If I had not had sufficient self-control at the
+moment to say to myself that the lackey was only your tool--I should
+have torn him to pieces with my own hands, as I should now tear you, if
+you were not a woman and sacred to me, even in your sin."
+
+"I sincerely regret what has happened and do not blame you for making
+me--at least indirectly responsible. I will dismiss the servant, of
+course--although he has the excuse that you provoked him, and that he
+did not know you."
+
+"Yes, he certainly cannot know me, when I am never permitted to
+appear."
+
+"No matter, he should not venture to treat even a _stranger_ so, and
+therefore must be punished with dismissal."
+
+"Because he should not venture to treat even a _stranger_ so?" Freyer
+laughed sadly, bitterly: "I thank you, keep your servant--I will
+renounce this satisfaction."
+
+"I do not know what else you desire."
+
+"You do not know? Oh, Heaven, had this happened earlier, what would
+your feelings have been! Do you remember your emotion in the Passion
+Play, when I received only the _semblance_ of a blow upon the cheek?
+Did it not, as you said, strike your own heart? How should you feel
+when you saw it in reality? Oh, tears should have streamed down your
+cheeks with grief for the poor deserted husband, who the only time he
+crossed your threshold, was insulted by your lackey. If you still
+retained one spark of love for me, you would feel that a single kiss
+pressed compassionately on my cheek to efface the brand would be a
+greater satisfaction than the dismissal of a servant whom you would
+have sacrificed to any stranger. But that is over, we no longer
+understand each other!"
+
+The countess struggled a moment between pity and repugnance. But at the
+thought of pressing her lips to the face her servant's hand had struck,
+loathing overwhelmed her and she turned away.
+
+"Yes, turn your back upon me--for should you look me in the eyes now,
+you would be forced to lower your own and blush with shame."
+
+"I beg you to consider that I am not accustomed to such outbreaks, and
+shall be compelled to close the conversation, if your manner does not
+assume a form more in accord with the standard of my circle."
+
+"Yes, I understand! You dread the element you have unchained? A peasant
+was very well, by way of variety, was he not? He loved differently,
+more ardently, more fiercely than your smooth city gentlemen. The
+strength and the impetuosity of the untutored man were not too rude
+when I bore you through the flaming forest, and caught the falling
+branches which threatened to crush you--then you did not fear me, you
+did not thrust me back within the limits of your social forms; on the
+contrary, you rejoiced that the world still contained power and
+might, and felt yourself a Titaness. Why have you suddenly become so
+weak-nerved, and cannot endure this might--because it has turned
+against you?"
+
+"No," said the countess, with a flash of deadly hatred in her
+fathomless grey eyes: "Not on that account--but because at that time I
+believed you to be different from what you really are. Then I believed
+I beheld a God, now I perceive that it was a--" She paused.
+
+"Go on--put no constraint on yourself--now you perceive that it was a
+_peasant_."
+
+"You just called yourself by that name."
+
+Freyer stood as though a thunder-bolt had struck him. He seemed to be
+struggling for breath. "Yes," he said at last in a low tone, "I did
+call myself by that name, but--_you_ should not have done so--_not
+you_!" He grasped the back of a chair to steady himself.
+
+"It is your own fault," said the countess, coldly. "But--will you not
+sit down? We have only a few words to say to each other. You have in
+this moment stripped off the mask of Christus and torn the last
+illusion from my heart. I can no longer see in the person who stood
+before me so disfigured by fury the image of the Redeemer."
+
+"Was not the Christ also angry, when He saw the moneychangers in the
+temple? And you, you bartered the most sacred treasures of your heart
+and mine for paltry-pelf and useless baubles--but I must not be angry!
+Scarcely a year ago, by the bedside of our sick child, you reproached
+me with being unable to cease playing the Christ--now--I have not kept
+up the part! But it does not matter, whatever I might be, I should no
+longer please you, for the _love_ which rendered the peasant a God is
+lacking. Yet one thing I must add; if now, after nine years marriage
+with you, I am still rough and a peasant, the reproach does not fall on
+me alone. You might have raised, ennobled me, my soul was in your
+keeping"--tears suddenly filled his eyes: "Woman, what have you done
+with my soul?"
+
+He sank into a chair, his strength was exhausted. Madeleine von
+Wildenau made no reply, the reproach struck home. She had never taken
+the trouble to develop his powers, to expand his intellectual
+faculties. After his poetical charm was exhausted--she flung him aside
+like a book whose contents she had read.
+
+"You knew my history. I had told you that I grew up in the meadow with
+the horses and had gained the little I knew by my own longing. I would
+have been deeply grateful, if you had released me from the ban of
+ignorance and quenched the yearning which those who are half educated
+always feel for the treasures of culture, of which they know a little,
+just enough to show them what they lack. But whenever I sought to
+discuss such subjects with you, you impatiently made me feel my
+shortcomings, and this shamed and intimidated me. So I constantly
+deteriorated in my lonely life--grew more savage, instead of more
+cultivated. Do you know what is the hardest punishment which can be
+inflicted upon criminals? Solitary confinement. It can be imposed for a
+short time only, because they go _mad_. Since the child and Josepha
+died, I have been one of those unfortunates, and you--did not even
+write me a line, had no word for me! I felt that my mind was gradually
+becoming darkened! Woman, even if you had power over life and
+death--you must not murder my soul, you have no right to that--even the
+law slays the body only, not the soul. And where it imposes the death
+penalty, it provides that the torture shall be shortened as much as
+possible. You are more cruel than the law--for you destroy your victim
+slowly--intellectually and physically."
+
+"Terrible!" murmured the countess.
+
+"Ay, it is terrible! You worldlings come and entice and sigh and kiss
+the hem of our robes, as long as the delusion of your excited
+imagination lasts, and your delusion infects us till we at last believe
+ourselves that we are gods--and then you thrust us headlong into the
+depths. Here you strew the miasma of the mania for greatness and
+vanity, yonder money and the seeds of avarice--there again you wished
+to sow your culture, tear us from our ignorance, and but half complete
+your work. Then you wonder because we become misshapen, sham,
+artificial creatures, comedians, speculators, misunderstood
+geniuses--everything in the world except true children of Ammergau!" He
+wiped his forehead, as if it were bleeding from the scratches of
+thorns. "I was a type of my people when, still a simple shepherd boy, I
+was brought from my herd to act the Christ, when in timid amazement,
+I suddenly felt stirring within me powers of which I had never
+dreamed--and I am so once more in my wretchedness, my mental conflicts,
+my marred life. I shall be so at last in my defeat or victory--as God
+is gracious to me. And since everything has deserted me--since I saw
+Josepha, the last thing left me of Ammergau, lying in her coffin--since
+then it has seemed as if from her grave, and that of all my happiness,
+my home, my betrayed, abandoned home, once more rose before me, and I
+felt a strange yearning for the soil to which I have a right, the earth
+where I belong. Ah, only when the outside world abandons us do we know
+what home is! Unfortunately I forgot it long enough, while I believed
+that you loved and needed me. Now that I know that you no longer care
+for me--the matter is very different! Like a true peasant, I believed
+that I had only duties, no rights, but in my loneliness I have pondered
+over many things, and so at last perceived that you, too, had duties
+and expected more from me than I can honorably endure! That I bore it
+_so long_ gave you a right to despise me, for the husband who sits
+angrily in a corner and sees his wife daily betray, deny, and mock
+him--deserves no better fate. So I have come to ask what you intend and
+to tell you my resolve."
+
+"What do you desire?"
+
+"That you will go with me to Ammergau, that you will cast aside the
+wealth, distinction, and splendor which I was not permitted to share
+with you, and in exchange accept with me my scanty earnings, my
+simplicity, my honest, plebeian name. For, poor and humble as I am, I
+am not so contemptible in the eyes of Him, who bestowed upon me the
+dignity and honor of personating His divine Son, that you need feel
+ashamed to be my wife in the true Christian meaning."
+
+The countess uttered a sigh of relief. "You anticipate me," she
+answered, blushing. "I see that you feel the untenableness of our
+relation. Your ultimatum is a proof that you will have strength to do
+what is inevitable, and I have delayed so long only from consideration
+for you. For--you know as well as I that I could never assent to your
+demand. It will be a sacred duty, so long as you live, to see that you
+want for nothing, but we must _part_."
+
+Freyer turned pale. "Part? We must part--for ever?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Merciful Heaven--is nothing sacred to you, not even the bond of
+marriage?"
+
+"You know that I am a Rationalist, and do not believe in dogmas; as
+such I hold that every marriage can be dissolved whenever the moral
+conditions under which it was formed prove false. Unfortunately this is
+the case with us. You did not learn to accommodate yourself to the
+circumstances, and you never will--the conflict has increased till it
+is unendurable, we cannot understand each other, so our marriage-bond
+is spiritually sundered. Why should we maintain its outward semblance?
+I have lost through you nine years of my life, sacrificed to you the
+duties imposed by my rank, by renouncing marriage with a man of equal
+station. Matters have now progressed so far that I shall be ruined if
+you do not release me! Will you nevertheless cross my path and thrust
+yourself into my sphere?"
+
+"Oh God--this too!" cried Freyer in the deepest anguish. "When have I
+thrust myself into your sphere? How, where, have I crossed your path?
+During the whole period of my marriage I have lived alone on the
+solitary mountain peak as your servant. Have I boasted of my position
+as your husband? I waited patiently until every few weeks, and later,
+every few months, you came to me. I disdained all the gifts of your
+lavish generosity, it was my pride to work for you in return for the
+morsel of food I ate. I asked nothing from your wealth, your position,
+took no heed, like others, of the splendor of your establishment. I
+wanted nothing from you save the immortal part. I was the poorest, the
+most insignificant of all your servants! My sole possession was your
+love, and that I was forced to conceal from every inquisitive eye, like
+a theft, in order to avoid the scorn of my fellow-citizens and all who
+could not understand the relation in which I stood to you. But this
+disgrace also I bore in silence, when a word would have vindicated
+me--bore it, that I might not drag you down from your brilliant
+position to mine--and you call that thrusting myself into your sphere?
+I will grant that I gradually became morose and embittered and by my
+ill-temper and reproaches deterred you more and more from coming, but I
+am only human and was forced to bear things beyond human endurance. The
+intention was good, though the execution might have been faulty. I
+lost your love--I lost my child--I lost my faithful companion, Josepha,
+yet I bore all in silence! I saw you revelling in the whirl of
+fashionable society, saw you admired by others and forget me, but I
+bore it--because I loved you a thousand times better than myself and
+did not wish to cause you pain. I often thought of secretly vanishing
+from your life, like a shadow which did not belong there. But the
+inviolability of the marriage-bond held me, and I wished to try once
+more, by the power of the vow you swore at the altar, to lead you back
+to your duty, for I cannot dissolve the sacrament which unites us, and
+which you voluntarily accepted with me. If it does not bind _you_--it
+still binds _me_! I am your husband, and shall remain so; if _you_
+break the bond you must answer for it to God; as for me, I shall keep
+it--unto death!"
+
+"That would be a needless sacrifice, which neither church nor state
+would require. I will not release myself and leave you bound. You argue
+from a mistaken belief that we were legally married--it is time to
+explain the error, both on your account and mine. You speak of a vow
+which I made you before the altar, pray remember that we have never
+stood before one."
+
+"Never?" muttered Freyer, and the vein on his forehead swelled with
+anger.
+
+"Was the breakfast-table of the Prankenberg pastor an altar?"
+
+"No, but wherever two human beings stand before a priest in the name of
+God, there is a viewless altar."
+
+"Those are subjective Catholic opinions which I do not understand--I do
+not consider myself married, and you need not do so either."
+
+"Not married? Do you know what you are saying?"
+
+"What I _must_ say, to loose _your_ bonds as well as _mine_."
+
+"Good Heavens, what will it avail if you loose my bonds and at the same
+time cut an artery so that I bleed to death? No, no, you cannot be so
+cruel. You cannot be in earnest. Omnipotent Father--you did not say it,
+take back the words. Lord, forgive her, she does not know what she is
+doing! Oh, take back those words--I will not believe that my wife, my
+dear wife, can be so wicked!"
+
+"Moderate your expressions! I guarantee my standpoint; ask whom you
+choose, you will hear that we are not married!"
+
+Freyer rushed up to her and seized her by the shoulders, shaking her as
+a tempest shakes a young birch-tree. "Not married--do you know then
+what you are!" He waited vainly for an answer, he seemed fairly crazed.
+"Shall I tell you, shall I? Then for nine years you were a----"
+
+"Do not finish!" shrieked the countess, wrenching herself with a
+desperate effort from the terrible embrace and hurling him from her.
+
+"Yes, I will finish, and you deserve that the whole world should hear
+and point the finger of scorn at you. I ought to shout to all the winds
+of Heaven that the Countess Wildenau, who is too proud to be called a
+poor man's wife, was not too proud to be his----"
+
+"Traitor, ungrateful, dishonorable traitor! Is this your return for my
+love? Take a knife and thrust it into my heart, it would be more seemly
+than to threaten me with degradation!" She drew herself up to her full
+height and raised her hand as if to take an oath: "Accursed be the hour
+I raised you from the dust to my side. Curses on the false humanity
+which strove to efface the distinctions of rank, curses on the murmur
+of 'the eternal rights of man' which removes the fetters from
+brutishness, that it may set its foot upon the neck of culture! It is
+like the child which opens the door to the whining wolf to be torn to
+pieces by the brute. Yes, take yourself out of my life, gloomy shadow
+which I conjured from those seething depths in which ruin is wrought
+for us--take yourself away, you have no longer any part in me!--Your
+right is doubly, trebly forfeited, your spell is broken, your strength
+recoils from the shield of a noble spirit, under whose protection I
+stand. Dare to lay hands on me again and--you will insult the betrothed
+bride of the Duke of Barnheim and must account to him."
+
+A cry--a heavy fall--Freyer lay senseless.
+
+The countess timidly stroked the pallid face--a strange memory stole
+over her--thus he lay prostrate on the ground when he was nailed to the
+cross. She could not help looking at him again and again: Oh, that all
+this should be a lie! Those features--that noble brow, on which the
+majesty of suffering was throned--the very image of the Saviour! Yet
+only an image, a mask! She looked away, she would gaze no longer, she
+would not again fall a victim to the old delusion--she would not let
+herself be softened by the wonderful, delusive face! But what was she
+to do? If she called her servants, she would be the talk of the whole
+city on the morrow. She must aid him, try to restore him to
+consciousness alone. Yet if she now roused him from the merciful
+stupor, if the grief and rage which had overwhelmed him should break
+forth again--would he not murder her? Was it strange that she remained
+so calm in the presence of this thought? A contemptuous indifference to
+death had taken possession of her. "If he kills me, he has a right to
+do so."
+
+She was too lofty to shun punishment which she had deserved, though it
+were her death. So she awaited her fate.
+
+She brought a little bottle filled with a pungent essence from her
+sleeping-room, and poured a few drops into his mouth. It was long ere
+he gave any sign of life--it seemed as though the soul was reluctant to
+awake, as if it would not return to consciousness. At last he opened
+his eyes;--they rested as coldly on the little trembling hand which was
+busied about him as if he had never clasped it, never kissed it, never
+pressed it to his throbbing heart. The storm had spent its fury--he was
+calm!
+
+The countess had again been mistaken in him, as usual--his conduct was
+always unlike her anticipations. He rose as quickly as his strength
+permitted, passed his hand over his disordered hair, and looked for his
+hat: "I beg your pardon for having startled you--forget this scene,
+which I might have spared you and myself, had I known what I do now. I
+deeply lament that the error which clouded your life has lasted so
+long!"
+
+"Yes," she said, and the words fell from her lips with the sharp sound
+of a diamond cutting glass: "Yes, it was not _worth_ it!"
+
+Freyer turned and gave her one last look--she felt it through her
+lowered lids. She had sunk on the sofa and fixed her eyes on the
+ground. A death-like chill ran through her limbs--she waited in her
+position as if paralysed. All was still for a moment, then she heard a
+light step cross the soft carpet of the room--and when she looked up,
+the door had closed behind Joseph Freyer.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+                         IN THE DESERTED HOUSE.
+
+
+The night had passed, day was shining through the closed curtains--but
+Countess Wildenau still sat in the same spot where Freyer had left her.
+Yes, he had gone "silently, noiselessly as a shadow"--perhaps vanished
+from her life, as he had said! She did not know what she felt, she
+would fain have relieved her stupor by tears, but she dared not
+weep--why should she? Everything was proceeding exactly as she wished.
+True, she had been harsh, too severe and harsh, and words had been
+uttered by both which neither could forgive the other! Yet it was
+to be expected that the bond between them would not be sundered without
+a storm--why was her heart so heavy, as if some misfortune had
+happened--greater than aught which could befall her. Tears! What would
+the duke think? It would be an injustice to him. And it was not true
+that she felt anything; she had no emotion whatever, neither for the
+vanished man nor for the duke! Honor--honor was the only thing which
+could still be saved! But--his sudden silence when she mentioned her
+betrothal to the duke--his going thus, without a farewell--without a
+word! He despised her--she was no longer worthy of him. That was the
+cause of his sudden calmness. There was a crushing grandeur and dignity
+in this calmness after the outbursts of fierce despair. The latter
+expressed a conflict, the former a victory--and _she_ was vanquished,
+hers was the shame, the pangs of conscience, and a strange,
+inexplicable grief.
+
+So she sat pondering all night long, always imagining that she had seen
+what she had not witnessed, the last look he had fixed upon her, and
+then--his noiseless walk through the room. It seemed as though time had
+stopped at that moment, and she was compelled, all through the night,
+to experience that _one_ instant!
+
+Some one tapped lightly on the door, and the maid entered with a
+haggard face. "I only wanted to ask," she said, in a weary, faint tone,
+"whether I might go to bed a little while. I have waited all night long
+for Your Highness to ring--"
+
+"Why, have you been waiting for me?" said the countess, rising slowly
+from the sofa. "I did not know it was so late. What time is it?"
+
+"Nearly six o'clock. But Your Highness looks so pale! Will you not
+permit me to put you to bed?"
+
+"Yes, my good Nannie, take me to my bedroom. I cannot walk, my feet are
+numb."
+
+"You should lie down at once and try to get warm. You are as cold as
+ice!" And the maid, really alarmed by the helplessness of her usually
+haughty mistress, helped the drooping figure to her room.
+
+The countess allowed herself to be undressed without resistance,
+sitting on the edge of the bed as if paralysed and waiting for the maid
+to lift her in. "I thank you," she said in a more gentle tone than the
+woman had ever heard from her lips, as the maid voluntarily rubbed the
+soles of her feet. Her head instantly sank upon the pillows, which bore
+a large embroidered monogram, surmounted by a coronet. When her feet at
+last grew warm, she seemed to fall asleep, and the maid left the room.
+But Madeleine von Wildenau was not asleep, she was merely exhausted,
+and, while her body rested, she constantly beheld _one_ image, felt
+_one_ grief.
+
+The maid had determined not to rouse her mistress, and left her
+undisturbed.
+
+At last, late in the morning, the weary woman sank into an uneasy
+slumber, whence she did not wake until the sun was high in the heavens.
+
+When she opened her eyes, she felt as if she was paralysed in every
+limb, but attributed this to the terrible impressions of the previous
+day, which would have shaken even the strongest nature.
+
+She rang the bell for the maid and rose. She walked slowly, it is true,
+and with great effort--but she _did_ walk. After she had been dressed
+and her breakfast was served she wrote:
+
+"The footman Franz is dismissed for rude treatment of the steward
+Freyer, and is not to appear in my presence again. The intendant is to
+settle the matter of wages.
+
+                                          "Countess Wildenau."
+
+Another servant now brought in a letter on a silver tray.
+
+The countess' hand trembled as she took it--the envelope was one of
+those commonly used by Freyer, but the writing was not his.
+
+"Is any one waiting for an answer?" she asked in a hollow tone.
+
+"No, Your Highness, it was brought by a Griess woodcutter."
+
+The countess opened the letter--it was from the maid-servant at the
+hunting castle, and contained only the news that the steward had left
+suddenly and the servants did not know what to do.
+
+The countess sat motionless for a moment unable to utter a word.
+Everything seemed whirling around her in a dizzy circle, she saw
+nothing save dimly, as if through a veil, the servant clearing away the
+breakfast.
+
+"Let old Martin put the horses in the carriage," she said, hoarsely, at
+last.
+
+How the minutes passed before she entered it--how it was possible for
+her to assume, in the presence of the maid, the quiet bearing of the
+mistress of the estate, who "must see that things were going on right,"
+she did not know. Now she sat with compressed lips, holding her breath
+that she might seem calm in her own eyes. What will she find on the
+height? Two graves of the past, and the empty abode of a former
+happiness. She fancied that a dark wing brushed by the carriage window,
+as if the death angel were flying by with the cup of wormwood of which
+Freyer had once spoken!
+
+She had a horror of the deserted house, the spectres of solitude and
+grief, which the vanished man might have left behind. When a house is
+dead, it must be closed by the last survivor, and this is always a
+sorrowful task. But if he himself has driven love forth, he will cross
+the deserted threshold with a lagging step, for the ghost of his own
+act will stare at him everywhere from the silent rooms.
+
+Evening had closed in, and the shadows of the mountain were already
+gathering around the house, from whose windows no loving eye greeted
+her. The carriage stopped. No one came to meet her--everything was
+lifeless and deserted. Her heart sank as she alighted.
+
+"Martin--drive to the stable and see if you can find the maid servant,"
+said the countess in a low tone, as if afraid of rousing some shape of
+horror. Martin did not utter a word, his good natured face was
+unusually grave as he drove off around the house in the direction of
+the stables.
+
+The countess stood alone before the locked door. The evening wind swept
+through the trees and shook the boughs of the pines. A few broken
+branches swayed and nodded like crippled arms; they were the ones from
+which Freyer had taken the evergreen for the child's coffin. At that
+time they were stiff with ice, now the sap, softened by the Spring
+rain, was dripping from them. Did she understand what the boughs were
+trying to tell her? Were her cheeks wet by the rain or by tears? She
+did not know. She only felt unutterably deserted. She stood on the
+moss-grown steps, shut out from her own house, and no voice answered
+her call.
+
+A cross towered above the tree-tops, it was on the steeple of the old
+chapel where they both lay--Josepha and the child. A bird of prey
+soared aloft from it and then vanished in the neighboring grove to
+shield its plumage from the rain. It had its nest there.
+
+Now all was still again--as if dead, only the cloud rising above the
+wood poured its contents on the Spring earth. At last footsteps
+approached. It was the girl bringing the keys.
+
+"I beg the countess' pardon--I did not expect Your Highness so late, I
+was in the stable unlocking the door," she said. Then she handed her
+the bunch of keys. "This one with the label is the key of the steward's
+room, he made me promise not to give it to anybody except the countess,
+if she should come again."
+
+"Bring a light--it is growing dark," replied the countess, entering the
+sitting-room.
+
+"I hope Your Highness will excuse it," said the girl. "Everything is
+still just as it was left after the funerals of Josepha and the child.
+Herr Freyer wouldn't allow me to clear anything away." She left the
+room to get a lamp. There lay the dry pine branches, there stood the
+crucifix with the candles, which had burned low in their sockets.
+_This_ for weeks had been his sole companionship. Poor, forsaken one!
+cried a voice in the countess' heart, and a shudder ran through her
+limbs as she saw on the sofa a black pall left from Josepha's funeral.
+It seemed as if it were Josepha herself lying there, as if the black
+form must rise at her entrance and approach threateningly. Horror
+seized her, and she hurried out to meet the girl who was coming with a
+light. The steward's room was one story higher, adjoining her own
+apartments. She went up the stairs with an uncertain tread, leaving the
+girl below. She needed no witness for what she expected to find there.
+
+She thrust the key into the lock with a trembling hand and opened the
+door. Sorrowful duty! Wherever she turned in this house of mourning,
+she was under the ban of her own guilt. Wherever she entered one of the
+empty rooms, it seemed as if whispering, wailing spirits separated and
+crept into the corners--to watch until the moment came when they could
+rush forth as an avenging army.
+
+At her entrance the movement was communicated through all the boards of
+the old floor until it really seemed as if viewless feet were walking
+by her side. For a moment she stood still, holding her breath--she had
+never before noticed this effect of her own steps, she had never been
+here _alone_. Her sleeping-room was beside her husband's--the door
+stood open--he must have been in there to bid farewell before going
+away. She moved hesitatingly a few steps forward and cast a timid
+glance within. The two beds, standing side by side, looked like two
+coffins. She felt as if she beheld her own corpse lying there--the
+corpse of the former Countess Wildenau, Freyer's wife. The woman
+standing here now was a different person--and her murderess! Yet she
+grieved for her and still felt her griefs and her death-struggle. She
+hastily closed and bolted the door--as if the dead woman within might
+come out and call her to an account.
+
+Then she turned her dragging steps toward Freyer's writing-desk, for
+that is always the tabernacle where a lonely soul conceals its secrets.
+And--there lay a large envelope bearing the address: "To the Countess
+Wildenau. To be opened by her own hands!"
+
+She placed the lamp on the table, and sat down to read. She no longer
+dreaded the ghosts of her own acts--_he_ was with her and though he had
+raged yesterday in the madness of his anguish--he would protect her!
+
+She opened the envelope. Two papers fell into her hands. Her marriage
+certificate and a paper in Freyer's writing. The lamp burned unsteadily
+and smoked, or were her eyes dim? Now she no longer saw the mistakes in
+writing, now she saw between the clumsy characters a noble, grieving
+soul which had gazed at her yesterday from a pair of dark eyes--for the
+last time! Clasping her hands over the sheet, she leaned her head upon
+them like a penitent Magdalene upon the gospel. It was to her also a
+gospel--of pain and love. It ran as follows:
+
+"Countess:
+
+"I bid you an affectionate farewell, and enclose the marriage
+certificate, that you may have no fear of my causing you any annoyance
+by it--
+
+"Everything else which I owe to your kindness I restore, as I can make
+no farther use of it. I am sincerely sorry that you were disappointed
+in me--I told you that I was not He whom I personated, but a poor,
+plain man, but you would not believe it, and made the experiment with
+me. It was a great misfortune for both. For you can never be happy, on
+account of the sin you wish to commit against me. I will pray God to
+release you from me--in a way which will spare you from taking this
+heavy sin upon you--but I have still one act of penance to perform
+toward my home, to which I have been faithless, that it may still
+forgive me in this life. I hear that the Passion Play cannot be
+performed in Ammergau next summer, because there is no Christus--that
+would be terrible for our poor parish! I will try whether I can help
+them out of the difficulty if they will receive me and not repulse me
+as befits the renegade." (Here the writing was blurred by tears) "Only
+wait, for the welfare of your own soul, until the performances are
+over, and I have done my duty to the community. Then God will be
+merciful and open a way for us all.
+
+                              "Your grateful
+
+                                              "Joseph Freyer.
+
+"Postscript:--If it is possible, forgive me for all I did to offend you
+yesterday."
+
+There, in brief, untutored words was depicted the martyrdom of a soul,
+which had passed through the school of suffering to the utmost
+perfection! The most eloquent, polished description of his feelings
+would have had less power to touch the countess' heart than these
+simple, trite expressions--she herself could not have explained why it
+was the helplessness of the uncultured man who had trusted to her
+generosity, which spoke from these lines with an unconscious reproach,
+which pierced deeper than any complaint. And she had no answer to this
+reproach, save the tears which now flowed constantly from her eyes.
+
+Laying her head upon the page, she wept--at last wept.
+
+She remained long in this attitude. A sorrowful peace surrounded her,
+nothing stirred within or without, the spirits seemed reconciled by
+what they now beheld. The dead Countess Wildenau in the next room had
+risen noiselessly, she was no longer there! She was flying far--far
+beyond the mountains--seeking--seeking the lost husband, the poor,
+innocent husband, who had resigned for her sake all that constitutes
+human happiness and human dignity, anxious for one thing only, her
+deliverance from what, in his childlike view of religion, he could not
+fail to consider a heavy, unforgivable sin! She was flying through a
+broad portal in the air--it was the rainbow formed of the tears of love
+shed by sundered human hearts for thousands of years. Even so looked
+the rainbow, which had arched above her head when she stood on the peak
+with the royal son of the mountains, high above the embers of the
+forest, through which he had borne her, ruling the flames. They had
+spared him--but _she_ had had no pity--they had crouched at his feet
+like fiery lions before their tamer, but the woman for whom he had
+fought trampled on him. Yet above them arched the rainbow, the symbol
+of peace and reconciliation, and under _this_ she had made the oath
+which she now intended to break. The dead Countess Wildenau, however,
+saw the gleaming bow again, and was soaring through it to her husband,
+for she had no further knowledge of earthly things, she knew only the
+old, long denied, all-conquering love!
+
+Suddenly the clock on the writing-table began to strike, the penitent
+dreamer started. It was striking nine. The clock was still going--he
+had wound it. It was a gift from her. He had left all her gifts, he
+wrote. That would be terrible. Surely he had not gone without any
+means? The key of the writing-table was in the lock. She opened the
+drawer. There lay all his papers, books, the rest of the housekeeping
+money, and accounts, all in the most conscientious order, and beside
+them--oh, that she must see it--a little purse containing his savings
+and a savings-bank book, which she herself had once jestingly pressed
+upon him. The little book was wrapped in paper, on which was written:
+"To keep the graves of my dear ones in Countess Wildenau's chapel."
+
+"Oh, you great, noble heart, which I never understood!" sobbed the
+guilty woman, restoring the little volume to its place.
+
+But she could not rest, she must search on and on, she must know
+whether he had left her as a beggar? Against the wall beside the
+writing-table, stood a costly old armoire, richly ornamented, which had
+seen many generations of the Prankenbergs come and pass away. Madeleine
+von Wildenau turned the lock with an effort--there hung all his
+clothing, just as he had received it from her or purchased it with his
+own wages; nothing was missing save the poor little coat, hat and cane,
+with which he had left Ammergau with the owner of a fortune numbering
+millions. He had wandered forth again as poor as he had come.
+
+Sinking on her knees, she buried her face, overwhelmed with grief and
+shame, in her clasped hands.
+
+"Freyer, Freyer, I did not want this--not this!" Now the long repressed
+grief which she had inflicted upon herself burst forth unrestrained.
+Here she could shriek it out; here no one heard her. "Oh, that you
+should leave me thus--unreconciled, without a farewell, with an aching
+heart--not even protected from want! And I let you go without one kind
+word--I did not even return your last glance. Was it possible that I
+could do it?"
+
+The old Prankenberg lion on the coat of arms on the armoire had
+doubtless seen many mourners scan the garments whose owners rested
+under the sod--but no one of all the women of that failing race had
+wept so bitterly over the contents of the armoire--as this last of her
+name.
+
+The candle had burned low in the socket, a star glinting through the
+torn clouds shone through the uncurtained windows. Beyond the forest
+the first flashes of spring lightning darted to and fro.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau rose and stood for a while in the middle of the
+room, pondering. What did she want here? She had nothing more to find
+in the empty house. The dead Countess Wildenau was once more sleeping
+in the adjoining room, and the living one no longer belonged to
+herself. Was it, could it be true, that she had thrust out the peaceful
+inmate of this house? Thrust him forever from the modest home she had
+established for him? "Husband, father of my child, where are you?" No
+answer! He was no longer hers! He had risen from the humiliation she
+inflicted upon him, he had stripped off the robe of servitude, and gone
+forth, scorning her and all else--a poor but free man!
+
+She must return to the slavery of her own guilt and of prosaic
+existence, while he went farther and farther away, like a vanishing
+star. She felt that her strength was failing, she must go, or she would
+sink dying in this place of woe--alone without aid or care.
+
+She folded the marriage certificate and Freyer's letter together, and
+without another glance around the room--the ghost of her awakened
+conscience was stirring again, she took the dying candle and hurried
+down. The steps again creaked behind her, as though some one was
+following her downstairs. She had ordered the carriage at nine, it must
+have been waiting a long time. Her foot faltered at the door of the
+sitting-room, but she passed on--it was impossible for her to enter it
+again--she called--but the maid-servant had gone to her work in the
+stables--nothing save her own trembling voice echoed back through the
+passages. She went out. The carriage was standing at the side of the
+house. The rain had ceased, the forest was slumbering and all the
+creatures which animated it by day with it.
+
+The countess locked the door. "Now interweave your boughs and shut it
+in!" she said to the briers and pines which stood closely around it.
+"Spread out your branches and compass it with an impenetrable hedge
+that no one may find it. The Sleeping Beauty who slumbers here--nothing
+must ever rouse!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXX.
+
+                           THE "WIESHERRLE."
+
+
+High above the rushing Wildbach, where the stream bursts through the
+crumbling rocks and in its fierce rush sends heavy stones grinding over
+one another--a man lay on the damp cliff which trembled under the shock
+of the falling masses of water. The rough precipices, dripping with
+spray, pressed close about him, shutting him into the cool, moss-grown
+ravine, through which no patch of blue sky was visible, no sunbeam
+stole.
+
+Here the wanderer, deceived in everything, lay resting on his way home.
+With his head propped on his hand, he gazed steadfastly down into the
+swirl of the foaming, misty, ceaseless rush of the falling water! On
+the rock before him lay a small memorandum book, in which he was slowly
+writing sorrowful words, just as they welled from his soul--slowly and
+sluggishly, as the resin oozes from the gashed trees. Wherever a human
+heart receives a deep, fatal wound, the poetry latent in the blood of
+the people streams from the hurt. All our sorrowful old folk-songs are
+such drops of the heart's blood of the people. The son of a race of
+mountaineers who sung their griefs and joys was composing his own
+mournful wayfaring ballad for not one of those which he knew and
+cherished in his memory expressed the unutterable grief he experienced.
+He did not know how he wrote it--he was ignorant of rhyme and metre.
+When he finished, that is, when he had said all he felt, it seemed as
+though the song had flown to him, as the seed of some plant is blown
+upon a barren cliff, takes root, and grows there.
+
+But now, after he had created the form of the verses, he first realized
+the full extent of his misery!
+
+Hiding the little book in his pocket, he rose to follow the toilsome
+path he was seeking high among the mountains where there were only a
+few scattered homesteads, and he met no human being.
+
+While Countess Wildenau in the deserted hunting-castle was weeping over
+the cast-off garments with which he had flung aside the form of a
+servant, the free man was striding over the heights, fanned by the
+night-breeze, lashed by the rain in his thin coat--free--but also free
+to be exposed to grief, to the elements--to hunger! Free--but so free
+that he had not even a roof beneath which to shelter his head within
+four protecting walls.
+
+
+           "Both love and faith have fled for aye,
+            Like chaff by wild winds swept away--
+            Naught, naught is left me here below
+            Save keen remorse and endless woe.
+
+           "No home have I on the wide earth--
+            A ragged beggar fare I forth,
+            In midnight gloom, by tempests met,
+            Broken my staff, my star has set.
+
+           "With raiment tattered by the sleet,
+            My brain scorched by the sun's fierce heat,
+            My heart torn by a human hand,
+            A shadow--I glide through the land.
+
+           "Homeward I turn, white is my hair,
+            Of love and faith my life is bare--
+            Whoe'er beholds me makes the sign
+            Of the cross--God save a fate like mine."
+
+
+So the melancholy melody echoed through the darkness of the night, from
+peak to peak along the road from the Griess to Ammergau. And wherever
+it sounded, the birds flew startled from the trees deeper into the
+forest, the deer fled into the thickets and listened, the child in the
+cradle started and wept in its sleep. The dogs in the lonely courtyards
+barked loudly.
+
+"That was no human voice, it was a shot deer or an owl"--the peasants
+said to their trembling wives, listening for a time to the ghostly,
+wailing notes dying faintly away till all was still once more--and the
+spectre had passed. But when morning dawned and the time came when the
+matin bells drove all evil spirits away the song, too, ceased, and only
+its prophecy came true. Whoever recognized in the emaciated man, with
+hollow eyes and cheeks, the Christus-Freyer of Ammergau, doubtless made
+the sign of the cross in terror, exclaiming: "Heaven preserve us!" But
+the lighter it grew, the farther he plunged into the forest. He was
+ashamed to be seen! His gait grew more and more feeble, his garments
+more shabby by his long walk in the rain and wind.
+
+He still had a few pennies in his pocket--the exact sum he possessed
+when he left Ammergau. He was keeping them for a night's lodgings,
+which he must take once during the twenty-four hours. He could have
+reached Ammergau easily by noon--but he did not want to enter it in
+broad day as a ragged beggar. So he rested by day and walked at night.
+
+At a venerable old inn, the "Shield," on the road from Steingaden to
+Ammergau, he asked one of the servants if he might lie a few hours on
+the straw to rest. The latter hesitated before granting permission--the
+man looked so doubtful. At last he said: "Well, I won't refuse you, but
+see that you carry nothing off when you go away from here."
+
+Freyer made no reply. The wrath which had made him hurl the lackey from
+the countess' door, no longer surged within him--now it was his home
+which was punishing him, speaking to him in her rude accents--let her
+say what she would, he accepted it as a son receives a reproof from a
+mother. He hung his drenched coat to dry in the sun, which now shone
+warmly again, then slipped into the barn and lay down on the hay. A
+refreshing slumber embraced him, poverty and humility took the
+sorrowing soul into their maternal arms, as a poor man picks up the
+withered blossom the rich one has carelessly flung aside, and carrying
+it home makes it bloom again.
+
+Rest, weary soul! You no longer need to stretch and distort the noble
+proportions of your existence to fit them to relations to which they
+were not born. You need be nothing more than you are, a child of the
+people, suckled by the sacred breast of nature and can always return
+there without being ashamed of it. Poverty and lowliness extend their
+protecting mantle over you and hide you from the looks of scorn and
+contempt which rend your heart.
+
+A peaceful expression rested upon the sleeper's face, but his breathing
+was deep and labored as if some powerful feeling was stirring his soul
+under the quiet repose of slumber and from beneath his closed lids
+stole a tear.
+
+During several hours the exhausted body lay between sleeping and
+waking, unconscious grief and comfort.
+
+Opposite, "on the Wies" fifteen minutes walk from the "Shield," a bell
+rang in the church where the pilgrims went. There an ancient Christ
+"our Lord of the Wies," called simply "the Wiesherrle," carved from
+mouldering, painted wood, was hung from the cross by chains which
+rattled when the image was laughed at incredulously, and with real
+hair, which constantly grew again when an impious hand cut it. At times
+of special visitation it could sweat blood, and hundreds journeyed to
+the "Wies," trustfully seeking the wonder-working "Wiesherrle." It was
+a terrible image of suffering, and the first sight of the scourged
+body and visage contorted by pain caused an involuntary thrill of
+horror--increased by the black beard and long hair, such as often grows
+in the graves of the dead. The face stared fixedly at the beholder with
+its glassy eyes, as if to say: "Do you believe in me?" The emaciated
+body was so lifelike, that it might have been an embalmed corpse placed
+erect. But the horror vanished when one gazed for a while, for an
+expression of patience rested on the uncanny face, the lashes of the
+fixed eyes began to quiver, the image became instinct with life, the
+chains swayed slightly, and the drops of blood again grew liquid. Why
+should they not? The heart, which loves forever can also, to the eye of
+faith, bleed forever. Hundreds of wax limbs and silver hearts,
+consecrated bones and other anomalies bore witness to past calamities
+where the Wiesherrle had lent its aid. But he could also be angry, as
+the rattling of his chains showed, and this gave him a somewhat
+spectral, demoniac aspect.
+
+Under the protection of this strange image of Christ, whose power
+extended over the whole mountain plateau, the living image of Christ
+lay unconscious. Then the vesper-bells, ringing from the church, roused
+him. He hastily started up and, in doing so, struck against the block
+where the wood was split. A chain flung upon it fell. Freyer raised and
+held it a moment before replacing it on the block, thinking of the
+scourging in the Passion Play.
+
+"Heavens, the Wiesherrle!" shrieked a terrified voice, and the door
+leading into the barn, which had been softly opened, was hurriedly
+shut.
+
+"Father, father, come quick--the Wiesherrle is in the barn!"--screamed
+some one in deadly fright.
+
+"Silly girl," Freyer heard a man say. "Are you crazy? What are you
+talking about?"
+
+"Really, Father, on my soul; just go there. The Wiesherrle is standing
+in the middle of the hay. I saw him. By our Lord and the Holy Cross.
+Amen!"
+
+Freyer heard the girl sink heavily on the bench by the stove. The
+father answered angrily: "Silly thing, silly thing!" and went to the
+door in his hob-nailed shoes. "Is any one in here?" he asked. But as
+Freyer approached, the peasant himself almost started back in terror:
+"Good Lord, who are you? Why do you startle folks so? Can't you speak?"
+
+"I asked the man if I might rest there, and then I fell asleep."
+
+"I don't see why you should be so lazy, turning night into day.
+Tramp on, and sleep off your drunkenness somewhere else! I want no
+miracles--and no Wiesherrle in my house."
+
+"I'll pay for everything," said Freyer humbly, almost beseechingly,
+holding out his little stock of ready money, for he was overpowered
+with hunger and thirst.
+
+"What do I care for your pennies!" growled the tavern keeper angrily,
+closing the door.
+
+There stood the hapless man, in whom the girl's soul had recognized
+with awe the martyred Christ, but whom the rude peasant turned from his
+door as a vagrant--hungry and thirsty, worn almost unto death, and with
+a walk of five hours before him. He took his hat and his staff, hung
+his dry coat over his shoulder, and left the barn.
+
+As he went out he heard the last notes of the vesper-bell, and felt a
+yearning to go to Him for whom he had been mistaken, it seemed as if He
+were calling in the echoing bells: "Come to me, I have comfort for
+you." He struck into the forest path that led to the Wiesherrle. The
+white walls of the church soon appeared and he stepped within, where
+the showy, antiquated style of the last century mingled with the crude
+notions of the mountaineers for and by whom it was built.
+
+Skulls, skeletons of saints, chubby-cheeked cupids, cruel martyrdoms,
+and Arcadian shepherdesses, nude penitents and fiends dragging them
+down into the depths, lambs of heaven and dogs of hell were all in
+motley confusion! Above the chaotic medley arched on fantastic columns
+the huge dome with a gate of heaven painted in perspective, which,
+according to the beholder's standpoint rose or sank, was foreshortened
+or the opposite.
+
+A wreath of lucernes beautifully ornamented, through which the blue sky
+peeped and swallows building their nests flew in and out, formed as it
+were the jewel in the architecture of the cornice. Even the eye of God
+was not lacking, a tarnished bit of mirror inserted above the pulpit in
+the centre of golden rays, and intended to flash when the sun shone on
+it.
+
+And there in a glass shrine directly beneath all the tinsel rubbish, on
+the gilded carving of the high altar, the poor, plain little Wiesherrle
+hung in chains. The two, the wooden image of God, and the one of flesh
+and blood, confronted each other--the Christ of the Ammergau Play
+greeted the Christ of the Wies. It is true, they did resemble each
+other, like suffering and pain. Freyer knelt long before the Wiesherrle
+and what they confided to each other was heard only by the God in whose
+service and by whose power they wrought miracles--each in his own way.
+
+"You are happy," said the Wiesherrle. "Happier than I! Human hands
+created and faith animated me; where that is lacking, I am a mere
+dead wooden puppet, only fit to be flung into the fire. But you were
+created by God, you live and breathe, can move and act--and highest of
+all--_suffer_ like Him whom we represent. I envy you!"
+
+"Yes!" cried Freyer; "You are right; _to suffer_ like Christ is highest
+of all! My God, I thank Thee that I suffer."
+
+This was the comfort the Wiesherrle had for his sorely tried brother.
+It was a simple thought, but it gave him strength to bear everything.
+It is always believed that a great grief requires a great consolation.
+This is not true, the poorer the man is, the more value the smallest
+gift has for him, and the more wretched he is--the smallest comfort! To
+the husbandman whose crops have been destroyed by hail, it would be no
+comfort to receive the gift of a blossom, which would bring rapture to
+the sultry attic chamber of a sick man.
+
+In a great misfortune we often ask: "What gave the person strength to
+endure it?" It was nothing save these trivial comforts which only the
+unhappy know. The soul lamenting the loss of a loved one while many
+others are left is not comforted when the lifeless figure of a martyr
+preaches patience--but to the desolate one, who no longer has aught
+which speaks to him, the lifeless wooden image becomes a friend and its
+mute language a consolation.
+
+Beside the altar stood an alms-box. The gifts for which it was intended
+were meant for repairs on the church and the preservation of the
+Wiesherrle, who sometimes needed a new cloth about his loins. Freyer
+flung into it the few coins which the innkeeper had disdained, because
+he looked like the Wiesherrle, now they should go to him. He felt as if
+he should need no more money all his life, as if the comfort he had
+here received raised him far above earthly need and care.
+
+Twilight was gathering, the sun had sunk behind the blue peaks of the
+Pfrontner mountains, and now the hour struck--the sacred hour of the
+return home.
+
+Already he felt with joy the throbbing of the pulses of his home, a
+mysterious connection between this place and distant Ammergau. And he
+was right: Childish as was the representation of the divine ideal, it
+was, nevertheless, the rippling of one of those hidden springs of faith
+which blend in the Passion Play, forming the great stream of belief
+which is to supply a thirsting world. As on a barren height, amid
+tangled thickets, we often greet with delight the low murmur of a
+hidden brook which in the valley below becomes the mighty artery of our
+native soil, so the returning wanderer hurried on longingly toward the
+mysterious spring which led him to the mother's heart. But his knees
+trembled, human nature asserted its rights. He must eat or he would
+fall fainting. But where could food be had? The last pennies were in
+the alms-box--he could not have taken them out again, even had he
+wished it. There was no way save to ask some one--for bread. He dragged
+himself wearily to the parsonage--he would try there, the priest would
+be less startled by the "Wiesherrle" than the peasant. Thrice he
+attempted to pull the bell, but very gently. He fancied the whole world
+could hear that he was ringing--to beg. Yet, if it did not sound, no
+one would open the door. At last, with as much effort as though he was
+pulling the bell-rope in the church steeple, he rang. The bell echoed
+shrilly. The pastor's old cook appeared.
+
+Freyer raised his hat. "Might I ask you for a piece of bread?" he
+murmured softly, and the tall figure seemed to droop lower with every
+word.
+
+The cook, who was never allowed to turn a beggar from the door, eyed
+him a moment with mingled pity and anxiety. "Directly," she answered,
+and went in search of something, but prudently closed the door, leaving
+him outside as we do with suspicious individuals. Freyer waited, hat in
+hand. The evening breeze swept chill across the lofty mountain plateau
+and blew his hair around his uncovered head. At last the cook came,
+bringing him some soup and a bit of bread. Freyer thanked her, and ate
+it! When he had finished he gave the little dish back to the woman--but
+his hand trembled so that he almost let it fall and his brow was damp.
+Then he thanked her again, but without raising his eyes, and quietly
+pursued his way.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+                            THE RETURN HOME.
+
+
+The "Wies" towered like an island from amid a grey sea of clouds. All
+the mountains of Trauchgau and Pfront, Allgau and Tyrol, which surround
+it like distant shores and cliffs, had vanished in the mist. The
+windows in the comfortable tavern were lighted and a fire was blazing
+on the hearth. One little lamp after another shone from the quiet
+farm-houses.
+
+The lonely church now lay silent! Silent, too, was the Wiesherrle in
+his glass shrine, while the wayfarer pressed steadily down through the
+mist toward home and the cross! Freyer moved on more and more swiftly
+across the hill-sides and through the woods till he reached the path
+leading down the mountain to the "Halb-Ammer," which flowed at its
+base. Gradually he emerged from the strata of mist, and now a faint ray
+of moonlight fell upon his path.
+
+Hour after hour he pursued his way. One after another the lights in the
+houses were extinguished. The world sank into slumber, and the villages
+were wrapped in silence.
+
+In the churches only the ever-burning lamps still blazed, and he made
+them his resting-places.
+
+The clock in the church steeple of Altenau struck twelve as he passed
+through. A belated tippler approached him with the reeling step of a
+drunkard, but started back when he saw his face, staring after him with
+dull bewildered eyes as if he beheld some spectre of the night.
+
+"An image of horror I glide through the land!" Freyer murmured softly.
+To-night he did not sing his song. This evening his pain was soothed,
+his soul was preparing for another pæan--on the cross!
+
+Now the little church of Kappel appeared before him on its green hill,
+like a pious sign-post pointing the way to Ammergau. But patches of
+snow still lingered amid the pale green of the Spring foliage, for it
+is late ere the Winter is conquered by the milder season and the keen
+wind swept down the broad highway, making the wayfarer's teeth chatter
+with cold. He felt that his vital warmth was nearly exhausted, he had
+walked two days with no hot food. For the soup at the parsonage that
+day was merely lukewarm--he stood still a moment, surely he had dreamed
+that! He could not have begged for bread? Yes, it was even so. A tremor
+shook his limbs: Have you fallen so low? He tried to button his thin
+coat--his fingers were stiff with cold. Ten years ago when he left
+Ammergau, it was midsummer--now winter still reigned on the heights.
+"Only let me not perish on the highway," he prayed, "only let me reach
+home."
+
+It was now bright cold moonlight, all the outlines of the mountains
+stood forth distinctly, the familiar contours of the Ammergau peaks
+became more and more visible.
+
+Now he stood on the Ammer bridge where what might be termed the suburb
+of Ammergau, the hamlet of Lower Ammergau, begins. The moon-lit river
+led the eye in a straight line to the centre of the Ammer valley--there
+lay the sacred mountains of his home--the vast side scenes of the most
+gigantic stage in the world, the Kofel with its cross, and the other
+peaks. Opposite on the left the quiet chapel of St. Gregory amid
+boundless meadows, beside the fall of the Leine, the Ammer's wilder
+sister. There he had watched his horses when a boy, down near the
+chapel where the blue gentians had garlanded his head when he flung
+himself on the grass, intoxicated by his own exuberant youth and
+abundance of life.
+
+He extended his arms as if he would fain embrace the whole infinite
+scene: "Home, home, your lost son is returning--receive him. Do not
+fall, ye mountains, and bury the beloved valley ere I reach it!"
+
+One last effort, one short hour's walk. Hold out, wearied one, this one
+hour more!
+
+The highway from Lower Ammergau stretched endlessly toward the goal. On
+the right was the forest, on the left the fields where grew thousands
+of meadow blossoms, the Eden of his childhood where a blue lake once
+lured him, so blue that he imagined it was reflecting a patch of the
+sky, but when he reached it, instead of water, he beheld a field of
+forget-me-nots!
+
+Oh, memories of childhood--reconciling angel of the tortured soul!
+There stands the cross on the boundary with the thorny bush whence
+Christ's crown was cut.
+
+"How will you fare, will the community receive you, admit you to the
+blissful union of home powers, if you sacrifice your heart's blood for
+it?" Freyer asked himself, and it seemed as if some cloud, some dark
+foreboding came between him and his home. "Well for him who no longer
+expects his reward from this world. What are men? They are all
+variable, variable and weak! Thou alone art the same. Thou who dost
+create the miracle from our midst--and thou, sacred soil of our
+ancestors, ye mountains from whose peaks blows the strengthening breath
+which animates our sublime work--it is not _human beings_, but ye who
+are home!"
+
+Now the goal was gained--he was there! Before him in the moonlight lay
+the Passion Theatre--the consecrated space where once for hours he was
+permitted to feel himself a God.
+
+The poor, cast off man, deceived in all things, flung himself down,
+kissed the earth, and laid a handful of it on his head, as though it
+were the hand of a mother--while from his soul gushed like a song sung
+by his own weeping guardian angel,
+
+
+                 "Thy soil I kiss, beloved home,
+                    Which erst my fathers' feet have trod,
+                  Where the good seed devoutly sown
+                    Sprang forth at the command of God!
+                  Thy lap fain would I rest upon,
+                    Though faithlessly from thee I fled
+                  Still thy chains draw thy wand'ring son
+                    Oh! mother, back where'er his feet may tread.
+                  And though no ray of light, no star,
+                    Illumes the future--and its gloom,
+                  Thou wilt not grudge, after life's war,
+                    A clod of earth upon my tomb."
+
+
+He rested his head thus a long time on the cold earth, but he no longer
+felt it. It seemed as though the soul had consumed the last power of
+the exhausted body--and bursting its fetters blazed forth like an
+aureole. "Hosanna, hosanna!" rang through the air, and the earth
+trembled under the tramp of thousands. On they came in a long
+procession bearing palm-branches, the shades of the fathers--the old
+actors in the Passion Play from its commencement, and all who had lived
+and died for the cross since the time of Christ!
+
+"Hosanna, hosanna to him who died on the cross. Many are called, but
+few chosen. But you belong to us!" sang the chorus of martyrs till the
+notes rang through earth and Heaven. "Hosanna, hosanna to him who
+suffers and bleeds for the sins of the world."
+
+Freyer raised his head. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and white
+mists were gathering over the fields.
+
+He rose, shivering with cold. His thin coat was damp with the night
+frost which had melted on his uncovered breast, and his feet were sore,
+for his shoes were worn out by the long walk.
+
+He still fancied he could hear, far away in the infinite distance, the
+chorus of the Hosanna to the Crucified! And raising his arms to heaven,
+he cried: "Oh, my Redeemer and Master, so long as Thou dost need me to
+show the world Thy face--let me live--then take pity on me and let me
+die on the cross! Die for the sins of one, as Thou didst die for the
+sins of the world." He opened the door leading to the stage. There in
+the dim moonlight lay the old cross. Sobbing aloud, he embraced it,
+pressing to his breast the hard wood which had supported him and now,
+as of yore, was surrounded by the mysterious powers, which so strongly
+attracted him.
+
+"Oh, had I been but faithful to thee," he lamented, "all the blessings
+of this world--even were it the greatest happiness, would not outweigh
+thee. Now I am thine--praise thyself with me and bear me upward, high
+above all earthly woe."
+
+The clock in the church steeple struck three. He must still live and
+suffer, for he knew that no one could play the Christus as he did,
+because no one bore the Redeemer's image in his heart like him.
+But--could he go farther? His strength had failed, he felt it with
+burdened breast. He took up his hat and staff, and tottered out. Where
+should he go? To Ludwig Gross, the only person to whom he was not
+ashamed to show himself in his wretchedness.
+
+Now for the first time he realized that he could scarcely move farther.
+Yet it must be done, he could not lie there.
+
+Step by step he dragged himself in his torn shoes along the rough
+village street. When half way down he heard music and singing
+alternating with cries and laughter, echoing from the tavern. It was a
+wedding, and they were preparing to escort the bride and groom home--he
+learned this from the talk of some of the lads who came out. Was he
+really in Ammergau? His soul was yet thrilling with emotion at the
+sight of the home for which he had so long yearned and now--this
+contrast! Yet it was natural, they could not all devote themselves to
+their task with the same fervor. Yet it doubly wounded the man who bore
+in his heart such a solemn earnestness of conviction. He glided
+noiselessly along in the shadow of the houses, that no one should see
+him.
+
+Did not the carousers notice that their Christ was passing in beggar's
+garb? Did they not feel the gaze bent on them from the shadow through
+the lighted window, silently asking: "Are these the descendants of
+those ancestors whose glorified spirits had just greeted the returning
+son of Ammergau?"
+
+The unhappy wanderer's step passed by unheard, and now Freyer turned
+into the side street, where his friend's house stood--the luckless
+house where his doom began.
+
+It was not quite half-past three. The confused noise did not reach the
+quiet street. The house, shaded by its broad, projecting roof, lay as
+if wrapped in slumber. Except during the passion Ludwig always slept in
+the room on the ground floor, formerly occupied by the countess. Freyer
+tapped lightly on the shutter, but his heart was beating so violently
+that he could scarcely hear whether any one was moving within.
+
+If his friend should not be there, had gone away on a journey, or
+moved--what should he do then? He had had no communication with him,
+and only heard once through Josepha that old Andreas Gross was dead. He
+knocked again. Ludwig was the only person whom he could trust--if he
+had lost him, all would be over.
+
+But no--there was a movement within--the well-known voice asked
+sleepily: "Who is there?"
+
+"Ludwig, open the window--it is I--Freyer!" he called under his breath.
+
+The shutters were flung back. "Freyer--is it possible? Wait, Joseph,
+wait, I'll admit you." He heard his friend hurriedly dressing--two
+minutes after the door opened. Not a word was exchanged between the
+two men. Ludwig grasped Freyer's hand and drew him into the house.
+"Freyer--you--am I dreaming? You here--what brings you? I'll have a
+light directly." His hand trembled with excitement as he lighted a
+candle. Freyer stood timidly at the door. The room grew bright, the
+rays streamed full on Freyer. Ludwig started back in horror. "Merciful
+Heaven, how you look!"
+
+The friends long stood face to face, unable to utter a word, Freyer
+still holding his hat in his hand. Ludwig's keen eye glided over the
+emaciated form, the shabby coat, the torn shoes. "Freyer, Freyer, what
+has befallen you? My poor friend, do you return to me _thus_?" With
+unutterable grief he clasped the unfortunate man in his arms.
+
+Freyer could scarcely speak, his tongue refused to obey his will. "If I
+could rest a little while," he faltered.
+
+"Yes, come, come and lie down on my bed--I have slept as much as I
+wish. I shall not lie down again," replied Ludwig, trembling with
+mingled pity and alarm, as he drew off his friend's miserable rags as
+quickly as possible. Then leading him to his own bed, he gently pressed
+him down upon it. He would not weary the exhausted man with questions,
+he saw that Freyer was no longer master of himself. His condition told
+his friend enough.
+
+"You--are--kind!" stammered Freyer. "Oh, I have learned something in
+the outside world."
+
+"What--what have you learned?" asked Ludwig.
+
+A strange smile flitted over Freyer's face: "_To beg._"
+
+His friend shuddered. "Don't talk any more now--you need rest!" he said
+in a low, soothing tone, wrapping the chilled body in warm coverlets.
+But a flash of noble indignation sparkled in his eyes, and his pale
+lips could not restrain the words: "I will ask no questions--but
+whoever sent you home to us must answer for it to God."
+
+The other did not hear, or if he did his thoughts were too confused to
+understand.
+
+"Freyer! Only tell me what I can do to strengthen you. I'll make a
+fire, and give you anything to eat that you would like."
+
+"Whatever--you--have!" Freyer gasped with much difficulty.
+
+"May God help us--he is starving." Ludwig could scarcely control his
+tears. "Keep quiet--I'll come presently and bring you something!" he
+said, hurrying out to get all the modest larder contained. He would not
+wake his sisters--this was no theme for feminine gossip. He soon
+prepared with his own hands a simple bread porridge into which he broke
+a couple of eggs, he had nothing else--but at least it was warm food.
+When he took it to his friend Freyer had grown so weak that he could
+scarcely hold the spoon, but the nourishment evidently did him good.
+
+"Now sleep!" said Ludwig. "Day is dawning. I'll go down to the village
+and see if I can get you some boots and another coat."
+
+A mute look of gratitude from Freyer rewarded the faithful care, then
+his eyes closed, and his friend gazed at him with deep melancholy.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+                            TO THE VILLAGE.
+
+
+The burgomaster's house, with its elaborate fresco, "Christ before
+Pilate," still stood without any signs of life in the grey dawn. The
+burgomaster was asleep. He had been ill very frequently. It seemed
+as if the attack brought on by Freyer's flight had given him his
+death-blow, he had never rallied from it. And as his body could not
+recuperate, his mind could never regain its tone.
+
+When Ludwig Gross' violent ring disturbed the morning silence of the
+house the burgomaster's wife opened the door with a face by no means
+expressive of pleasure. "My husband is still asleep!" she said to the
+drawing-master.
+
+"Yes, I cannot help it, you must wake him. I've important business!"
+
+The anxious wife still demurred, but the burgomaster appeared at the
+top of the staircase. "What is it? I am always to be seen if there is
+anything urgent. Good morning; go into the sitting-room. I'll come
+directly."
+
+Ludwig Gross entered the low-ceiled but cheerful apartment, where
+flowers bloomed in every window. Against the wall was the ancient glass
+cupboard, the show piece of furniture in every well-to-do Ammergau
+household, where were treasured the wife's bridal wreath and the
+husband's goblet, the wedding gifts--cups with gilt inscriptions: "In
+perpetual remembrance," which belonged to the wife and prizes won in
+shooting matches, or gifts from visitors to the Passion Play, the
+property of the husband. In the ivy-grown niche in the corner of the
+room was an ancient crucifix--below it a wooden bench with a table, on
+which lay writing materials. On the pier-table between the widows were
+a couple of images of saints, and a pile of play-bills of the
+rehearsals which the burgomaster was arranging. Against the opposite
+wall stood a four-legged piece of furniture covered with black leather,
+called "the sofa," and close by the huge tiled stove, behind which
+the burgomaster's wife had set the milk "to thicken." Near by was a
+wall-cupboard with a small writing-desk, and lastly a beautifully
+polished winding staircase which led through a hole in the ceiling
+directly into the sleeping-room, and was the seat of the family cat.
+This was the home of a great intellect, which reached far beyond these
+narrow bounds and to which the great epochs of the Passion Play were
+the only sphere in which it could really live, where it had a wide
+field for its talents and ambition--where it could find compensation
+for the ten years prose of petty, narrow circumstances. But the
+intervals of ten years were too long, and the elderly man was gradually
+losing the elasticity and enthusiasm which could bear him beyond the
+deprivations of a decade. He tried all sorts of ventures in order at
+least to escape the petty troubles of poverty, but they were
+unsuccessful and thereby he only became burdened the more. Thus in the
+strife with realism, constantly holding aloft the standard of the
+ideal, involved in inward and outward contradictions, the hapless man
+was wearing himself out--like most of the natives of Ammergau.
+
+"Well, what is it?" he now asked, entering the room. "Sit down."
+
+"Don't be vexed, but you know my husband must have his coffee, or he
+will be ill." The burgomaster's wife brought in the breakfast and set
+it on the table before him. "Don't let it get cold," she said
+warningly, then prudently retreated, even taking the cat with her, that
+the gentlemen might be entirely alone and undisturbed.
+
+"Drink it, pray drink it," urged Ludwig, and waited until the
+burgomaster had finished his scanty breakfast; which was quickly done.
+"Well? What is it!" asked the latter, pushing his cup aside.
+
+"I have news for you: Freyer is here!"
+
+"Ah!" The burgomaster started, and an ominous flush crimsoned his face.
+His hand trembled nervously as he smoothed his hair, once so beautiful,
+now grey. "Freyer--! How did he get here?"
+
+"I don't know--the question died on my lips when I saw him."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, he is such a spectacle, ill, half starved--in rags, an _Ecce
+homo_! I thought my heart would break when I saw him."
+
+"Aha--so Nemesis is here already."
+
+"Oh! do not speak so. Such a Nemesis is too cruel! I do not know what
+has befallen him--I could ask no questions, but I do know that Freyer
+has done nothing which deserves such a punishment. You can have no idea
+of the man's condition. He is lying at home--unable to move a limb."
+
+The burgomaster shrugged his shoulders. "What have I to do with it? You
+know that I never sympathize with self-created sorrows."
+
+"You need not, only you must help me obtain some means of livelihood
+for the unfortunate man. He still has his share of the receipts of the
+last Passion Play. He was not present at the distribution, but he
+played the Christus from May until August--to the best of my
+recollection his portion was between seven and eight hundred marks."
+
+"Quite right. But as he had run away and moreover very generously
+bequeathed all his property to the poor--I could not suppose that I
+must save the sum for a rainy day, and that he would so soon be in the
+position of becoming a burden upon the community!"
+
+"What did you do with the money?"
+
+"Don't you know? I divided it with the rest."
+
+Ludwig stamped his foot. "Oh, Heaven? that was my only hope! But he
+must have assistance, he has neither clothing nor shoes! I haven't a
+penny in the house except what we need for food. He cannot be seen
+in these garments, he would rather die. We cannot expose him to
+mockery--we must respect ourselves in him, he was the best Christus we
+ever had, and though the play was interrupted by him, we owe him a
+greater success and a larger revenue than we formerly obtained during a
+whole season. And, in return, should we allow him to go with empty
+hands--like the poet in Schiller's division of the earth, because he
+came too late?"
+
+"Yes." The burgomaster twisted his moustache with his thin fingers: "I
+am sorry for him--but the thing is done and cannot be changed."
+
+"It must be changed, the people must return the money!" cried the
+drawing-master vehemently.
+
+The burgomaster looked at him with his keen eyes, half veiled by their
+drooping lids. "Ask them," he said calmly and coldly. "Go and get
+it--if it can be had."
+
+Ludwig bit his lips. "Then something must be done by the parish."
+
+"That requires an agreement of the whole parish."
+
+"Call a meeting then."
+
+"Hm, hm!" The burgomaster smiled: "That is no easy matter. What do you
+think the people will answer, if I say: 'Herr Freyer ran away from us,
+interrupted the performances, made us lose about 100,000 marks,
+discredited the Passion Play in our own eyes and those of the world,
+and asks in return the payment of 800 marks from the parish treasury?"
+
+Ludwig let his arms fall in hopeless despair. "Then I don't know what
+to do--I must support my helpless old sisters. I cannot maintain him,
+too, or I would ask no one's aid. I think it should be a point of honor
+with us Ammergau people not to leave a member of the parish in the
+lurch, when he returns home poor and needy, especially a man like
+Freyer, whom we have more cause to thank than to reproach, say what you
+will. We are not a penal institution."
+
+"No, nor an asylum."
+
+"Well, we need be neither, but merely a community of free men, who
+should be solely ruled by the thought of love, but unfortunately have
+long ceased to be so."
+
+The burgomaster leaned quietly back in his chair, the drawing-master
+became more and more heated, as the other remained cold.
+
+"You always take refuge behind the parish, when you don't _wish_ to do
+anything--but when you _desire_ it, the parish never stands in your
+way!"
+
+The burgomaster pressed his hand to his brow, as if thinking wearied
+him. He belonged to the class of men whose hearts are in their heads.
+If anything made his heart ache, it disturbed his brain too. He
+remained silent a long time while Ludwig paced up and down the room,
+trembling with excitement. At last, not without a touch of bitter
+humor, he said:
+
+"I am well aware of that, you always say so whenever I do anything that
+does not suit you. I should like to see what would become of you, with
+your contradictory, impulsive artist nature, to-day 'Hosanna' and
+to-morrow 'Crucify Him,' if I did not maintain calmness and steadiness
+for you. If I, who bear the responsibility of acting, changed my
+opinions as quickly as you do and converted each of your momentary
+impulses into an act--I ought at least to possess the power to
+kill to-day, and to-morrow, when you repented, restore the person to
+life. Ten years ago, when Freyer left us in the lurch for the sake
+of a love affair, and dealt a blow to all we held sacred--you threw
+yourself into my arms and wept on my breast over the enormity of his
+deed--now--because I am not instantly touched by a few rags and
+tatters, and the woe-begone air of a penitent recovering from a moral
+debauch, you will weep on your friend's bosom over the harshness and
+want of feeling of the burgomaster! I'm used to it. I know you
+hotspurs."
+
+He drew a pair of boots from under the stove. "There--I am the owner of
+just two pairs of boots. You can take one to your protégé, that he may
+at least appear before me in a respectable fashion to discuss the
+matter! I don't do it at the cost of the parish, however. And I can
+give you an old coat too--I was going to send it to my Anton, but, no
+matter! Only I beg you not to tell him from whom the articles come, or
+he will hate me because I was in a situation to help _him_--instead of
+he _me_."
+
+"Oh, how little you know him!" cried Ludwig.
+
+The burgomaster smiled. "I know the Ammergau people--and he is one of
+them!"
+
+"I thank you in his name," said Ludwig, instantly appeased.
+
+"Yes, you see you thank me for that, yet it is the least important
+thing. This is merely a private act of charity which I might show any
+rascal I pitied. But when I, as burgomaster, rigidly guard the honor of
+Ammergau and consider whom I recommend to public sympathy, you reproach
+me for it! Before I call a parish meeting and answer for him
+officially, I must know whether he is worthy of it, and what his
+condition is." He again pressed his hand to his head. "Send him to me
+at the office--then we will see."
+
+Ludwig held out his hand. "No offence, surely we know how we feel
+toward each other."
+
+When the drawing-master had gone, the burgomaster drew a long breath
+and remained for some time absorbed in thought. Then he glanced at the
+clock, not to learn the hour but to ascertain whether the conversation
+had lasted long enough to account for his headache and exhaustion. The
+result did not seem to soothe him. "Where will this end?"
+
+His wife looked in "Well, Father, what is it?"
+
+The burgomaster took his hat. "Freyer is here!"
+
+"Good Heavens!" She clasped her hands in amazement.
+
+"Yes, it was a great excitement to me. Tell Anastasia, that she may not
+learn the news from strangers. She has long been resigned, but of
+course this will move her deeply! And above all, don't let anything be
+said about it in the shop, I don't want the tidings to get abroad in
+the village, at least through us. Farewell!"
+
+The burgomaster's family enjoyed a small prerogative: the salt
+monopoly, and a little provision store where the tireless industry of
+the self-sacrificing wife collected a few groschen, "If I don't make
+something--who will?" she used to say, with a keen thrust at her
+husband's absence of economy. So the burgomaster did not mention his
+extravagance in connection with the boots and coat. He could not bear
+even just reproaches now. "A man was often compelled to exceed his
+means in a position like his"--but women did not understand that.
+Therefore, as usual, he fled from domestic lectures to the inaccessible
+regions of his office.
+
+The burgomaster's sister no longer lived in the same house. As she grew
+older, she had moved into one near the church which she inherited from
+her mother, where she lived quietly alone.
+
+"Yes, who's to run over to Stasi," lamented the burgomaster's wife,
+"when we all have our hands full. As if she wouldn't hear it soon
+enough. He'll never marry her! Rosel, Rosel!"
+
+The burgomaster's youngest daughter, the predestined Mary of the
+future, came in from the shop.
+
+"Run up to your aunt and tell her that Herr Freyer has come back, your
+father says so!"
+
+"Will he play the Christus again?" asked the child.
+
+"How do I know--your father didn't say! Perhaps so--they have no one.
+Oh dear, this Passion Play will be your father's death!"
+
+The shop-bell, pleasantest of sounds to the anxious woman,
+rang--customers must not be kept waiting, even for a little package of
+coffee. She hurried into the shop, and Rosel to her aunt Stasi.
+
+This was a good day to the burgomaster's worthy wife. The whole village
+bought something, in order to learn something about the interesting
+event which the Gross sisters, of course, had told early in the
+morning. And, as the burgomaster's wife maintained absolute silence,
+what the people did not know they invented--and of course the worst and
+most improbable things. Ere noon the wildest rumors were in
+circulation, and parties had formed who disputed vehemently over them.
+
+The burgomaster's wife was in the utmost distress. Everybody wanted
+information from her, and how easily she might let slip some incautious
+remark! In her task of keeping silence, she actually forgot that she
+really had nothing at all to conceal--because she knew nothing herself.
+Yet the fear of having said a word too much oppressed the conscientious
+woman so sorely that afterward, much to her husband's benefit, she was
+remarkably patient and spared him the usual reproach of not having
+thought of his wife and children, when she discovered that he had given
+away his boots and coat!--
+
+Thus in the strange little village the loftiest and the lowliest things
+always go hand in hand. But the noble often succumbs to the petty, when
+it lacks the power to rise above it.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+                            RECEIVED AGAIN.
+
+
+All through the morning the street where Ludwig's house stood was
+crowded with people. Toward noon a whisper ran through the throng: "He
+is coming!" and Freyer appeared. Many pressed forward curiously but
+shrank back again as Freyer drew near. "Good Heavens, how he looks!"
+
+Freyer tottered past them, raising his hat in greeting, but spite of
+his modest bearing and simple garb he seemed to have become so
+aristocratic a gentleman, that no one ventured to accost him. Something
+emanating from him inspired reverence, as if--in the presence of the
+dead. He was dead--at least to the world. The people felt this and the
+gossip suddenly ceased--the parties formed in an envious or malicious
+spirit were reconciled.
+
+"He won't live long!" This was the magic spell which soothed all
+contention. If he had any sin on his conscience, he would soon atone
+for it, if he had more money than the rest, he must soon "leave it
+behind," and if he desired to take a part he could not keep it long!
+Only the children who meanwhile had grown into tall lads and lasses ran
+trustfully to meet him, holding out their hands with the grace and
+charm peculiar to the Ammergau children. And because the grown people
+followed him, the little ones did the same. He stopped and talked with
+them, recognizing and calling by name each of the older ones, while
+their bright eyes gazed searchingly into his, as sunbeams pierce dark
+caverns. "Have you been ill, Herr Freyer?"
+
+"No, my dear children--or yes, as people may regard it, but I shall get
+well with you!" And, clasping half a dozen of the little hands in his,
+he walked on with them.
+
+"Will you play the divine friend of children with us again?" asked one
+of the larger girls beseechingly.
+
+"When Christmas comes, we will all play it again!" A strange smile
+transfigured Freyer's features, and tears filled his eyes.
+
+"Will you stay with us now?" they asked.
+
+"Yes!" It was only a single word, but the children felt that it was a
+vow, and the little band pressed closer and closer around him: "Yes,
+now you must never go away!"
+
+Freyer lifted a little boy in his arms and hid his face on the child's
+breast: "No, _never_, _never_ more!"
+
+A solemn silence reigned for a moment. The grief of a pure heart is
+sacred, and a child's soul feels the sacredness. The little group
+passed quietly through the village, and the children formed a
+protecting guard around him, so that the grown people could not hurt
+him with curious questions. The children showed their parents that
+peace must dwell between him and them--for the Ammergau people knew
+that in their children dwelt the true spirit which they had lost to a
+greater or less degree in the struggle for existence. The _children_
+had adopted him--now he was again at home in Ammergau; no parish
+meeting was needed to give him the rights of citizenship.
+
+The little procession reached the town-hall. Freyer put the child he
+was carrying on the ground--it did not want to leave him. The grown
+people feared him, but the children considered him their own property
+and were reluctant to give him up. Not until after long persuasion
+would they let him enter. As he ascended the familiar stairs his heart
+throbbed so violently that he was obliged to lean against the wall. A
+long breath, a few steps more--then a walk through the empty council
+room to the office, a low knock, the well-known "come in!"--and he
+stood before the burgomaster. It is not the custom among the people of
+Ammergau to rise when receiving each other. "Good-morning!" said the
+burgomaster, keeping his seat as if to finish some pressing task--but
+really because he was struggling for composure: "Directly!"
+
+Freyer remained standing at the door.
+
+The burgomaster went on writing. A furtive glance surveyed the figure
+in his coat and shoes--but he did not raise his eyes to Freyer's face,
+the latter would have seen it. At last he gained sufficient composure
+to speak, and now feigned to be aware for the first time of the
+new-comer's identity. "Ah, Herr Freyer!" he said, and the eyes of the
+two men met. It was a sad sight to both.
+
+The burgomaster, once so strong and stately, aged, shrunken,
+prematurely worn. Freyer an image of suffering which was almost
+startling.
+
+"Herr Burgomaster, I do not know--whether I may still venture--"
+
+"Pray take a chair, Herr Freyer," said the burgomaster.
+
+Freyer did so, and sat down at some distance.
+
+"You do not seem to have prospered very well," said the other, less to
+learn the truth than to commence conversation.
+
+"You doubtless see that."
+
+"Yes----! I could have wished that matters had resulted differently!"
+
+Both were silent, overpowered by emotion. At the end of a few minutes
+the burgomaster continued in a low tone: "I meant so well by you--it is
+a pity--!"
+
+"Yes, you have _much_ to forgive me, no one knows that better than
+I--but you will not reject a penitent man, if he wishes to make amends
+for the wrong."
+
+The burgomaster rubbed his forehead: "I do not reject you, but--I have
+already told the drawing-master, I only regret that I can do nothing
+for you. You are not ill--I cannot support you from the fund for the
+sick and it will be difficult to accomplish anything with the parish."
+
+"Oh, Herr Burgomaster, I never expected to be supported. Only, when I
+arrived yesterday I was so weary that I could explain nothing to
+Ludwig, otherwise he would surely have spared you and me the step which
+his great sympathy induced him to take. The clothing with which you
+have helped me out of embarrassment for the moment, I will gratefully
+accept as _loaned_, but I hope to repay you later."
+
+"Pray let us say no more about it!" answered the burgomaster, waving
+his hand.
+
+"Yes! For it can only shame me if you generously bestow material
+aid--and yet cherish resentment against me in your heart for the wrong
+I have done. What my sick soul most needs is reconciliation with you
+and my home. And for that I _can_ ask."
+
+"I am not implacable, Herr Freyer! You have done me no personal
+wrong--you have merely injured the cause which lies nearest to my heart
+of anything in the world. This is a grief, which must be fought down,
+but for which I cannot hold you responsible, though it cost me health
+and life. I feel no personal rancor for what had no personal intention.
+If a man flings a stone at the image of a saint and unintentionally
+strikes me on the temple, I shall not make him responsible for
+that--but for having aimed at something which was sacred to others. To
+_punish_ him for it I shall leave to a higher judge."
+
+"Permit me to remain silent. You must regard the matter thus from your
+standpoint, and I can show you no better one. The right of defense is
+denied me. Only I would fain defend myself against the reproach that
+what is sacred to others is not to me. Precisely because it is sacred
+to me--perhaps more sacred than to others, I have sinned against it."
+
+"That is a contradiction which I do not understand!"
+
+"And I cannot explain!"
+
+"Well, it is not my business to pry into your secrets and judge your
+motives. I am not your confessor. I told you that I left God to judge
+such things. My duty as burgomaster requires me to aid any member of
+the parish to the best of my ability in matters pertaining to earning a
+livelihood. If you will give me your confidence, I am ready to aid you
+with advice and action. I don't know what you wish to do. You gave your
+little property to our poor--do you wish to take it back?"
+
+"Oh, never, Herr Burgomaster, I never take back what I give," replied
+Freyer.
+
+"But you will then find it difficult, more difficult than others, to
+support yourself," the burgomaster continued. "You went to the
+carving-school too late to earn your bread by wood-carving. You know no
+trade--you are too well educated to pursue more menial occupations,
+such as those of a day-laborer, street-sweeper, etc.--and you would be
+too proud to live at the expense of the parish, even if we could find a
+way of securing a maintenance for you. It is really very difficult, one
+does not know what to say. Perhaps a messenger's place might be
+had--the carrier from Linderhof has been ill a long time."
+
+"Have no anxiety on that score, Herr Burgomaster. During my absence, I
+devoted my leisure time mainly to drawing and modelling. I also read a
+great deal, especially scientific works, so that I believe I could
+support myself by carving, if I keep my health. If that fails, I'll
+turn wood-cutter. The forest will be best for me. That gives me no
+anxiety."
+
+The burgomaster again rubbed his forehead. "Perhaps if the indignation
+roused by your desertion has subsided, it may be possible to give you
+employment at the Passion Theatre as superintendent, assistant, or in
+the wardrobe room."
+
+Freyer rose, a burning blush crimsoned his face, instantly
+followed by a deathlike pallor. "You are not in earnest, Herr
+Burgomaster--I--render menial service in the Passion--I? Then woe
+betide the home which turns her sons from her threshold with mockery
+and disgrace, when they seek her with the yearning and repentance of
+mature manhood."
+
+Freyer covered his face with his hands, grief robbed him of speech.
+
+The burgomaster gave him a moment's time to calm himself. "Yes, Herr
+Freyer, but tell me, do you expect, after all that has occurred, to be
+made the Christus?"
+
+"What else should I expect? For what other purpose should _I_ come here
+than to aid the community in need, for my dead cousin Josepha received
+a letter from one of our relatives here, stating that you had no
+Christus and did not know what to do. It seemed to me like a summons
+from Heaven and I knew at that moment where my place was allotted. Life
+had no farther value for me--one thought only sustained me, to be
+something to my _home_, to repair the injury I had done her, atone for
+the sin I had committed--and this time I should have accomplished it. I
+walked night and day, with one desire in my heart, one goal before my
+eyes, and now--to be rejected thus--oh, it is too much, it is the last
+blow!"
+
+"Herr Freyer--I am extremely sorry, and can understand how it must
+wound you, yet you must see yourself that we cannot instantly give a
+man who voluntarily, not to say _wilfully_, deserted us and remained
+absent so long that he has become a stranger, the most important part
+in the Play when want forces him to again seek a livelihood in
+Ammergau."
+
+"I am become a stranger because I remained absent ten years? May God
+forgive you, Herr Burgomaster. We must both render an account to Him of
+our fulfilment of His sacred mission--He will then decide which of us
+treasured His image more deeply in his heart--you here--or I in the
+world outside."
+
+"That is very beautiful and sounds very noble--but, Herr Freyer, you
+_prove_ nothing by your appeal to God, He is patient and the day which
+must bring this decision is, I hope, still far distant from you and
+myself!"
+
+"It is perhaps nearer to me than you suppose, Herr Burgomaster!"
+
+"Such phrases touch women, but not men, Herr Freyer!"
+
+Freyer straightened himself like a bent bush which suddenly shakes off
+the snow that burdened it. "I have not desired to touch any one, my
+conscience is clear, and I do not need to appeal to your compassion. A
+person may be ill and feeble enough to long for sympathy, without
+intending to profit by it. I thought that I might let my heart speak,
+that I should be understood here. I was mistaken. It is not _I_ who
+have become estranged from my home--home has grown alienated from me
+and you, as the ruling power in the community, who might mediate
+between us, sever the last bond which united me to it. Answer for it
+one day to Ammergau, if you expel those who would shed their heart's
+blood for you, and to whom the cause of the Passion Play is still an
+earnest one."
+
+"Oh, Herr Freyer, it would be sad indeed if we were compelled to seek
+earnest supporters of our cause in the ranks of the deserters--who
+abandoned us from selfish motives."
+
+"Herr Burgomaster!--" Freyer reflected a moment--it was difficult to
+fathom what was passing in his mind--it seemed as if he were gathering
+strength from the inmost depths of his heart to answer this accusation.
+"It is a delicate matter to speak in allegories, where deeds are
+concerned--you began it out of courtesy to me--and I will continue from
+the same motive, though figurative language is not to my taste--we
+strike a mark in life without having aimed! But to keep to your simile:
+I have only deserted in my own person, if you choose to call it so, and
+have now voluntarily returned--But you, Herr Burgomaster, how have you
+guarded, in my absence, the fortress entrusted to your care?"
+
+The burgomaster flushed crimson, but his composure remained unshaken:
+"Well?"
+
+"You have opened your gates to the most dangerous foes, to everything
+which cannot fail to destroy the good old Ammergau customs; you have
+done everything to attract strangers and help Ammergau in a business
+way--it was well meant in the material sense--but not in the ideal one
+which you emphasize so rigidly in my case! The more you open Ammergau
+to the influences of the outside world, the more the simplicity, the
+piety, the temperance will vanish, without which no great work of faith
+like the Passion Play is possible. The world has a keen appreciation of
+truth--the world believes in us because we ourselves believe in it--as
+soon as we progress so far in civilization that it becomes a farce to
+our minds, we are lost, for then it will be a farce to the world also.
+You intend to secure in the Landrath the cutting of a road through the
+Ettal Mountain. That would be a great feat--one might say: 'Faith
+removes mountains,' for on account of the Passion Play consent would
+perhaps be granted, then your name, down to the latest times, would be
+mentioned in the history of Ammergau with gratitude and praise. But do
+you know what you will have done? You will have let down the drawbridge
+to the mortal foe of everything for which you battle, removed the wall
+which protected the individuality of Ammergau and amid all the changes
+of the times, the equalizing power of progress, has kept it that
+miracle of faith to which the world makes pilgrimages. For a time the
+world will come in still greater throngs by the easier road--but in a
+few decades it will no longer find the Ammergau it seeks--its flood
+will have submerged it, washed it away, and a new, prosperous, politic
+population will move upon the ruins of a vanished time and a buried
+tradition.
+
+"Freyer!" The burgomaster was evidently moved: "You see the matter in
+too dark colors--we are still the old people of Ammergau and God will
+help us to remain so."
+
+"No, you are so no longer. Already there are traces of a different,
+more practical view of life--of so-called progress. I read to-day at
+Ludwig's the play-bills of the practise theatre which you have
+established during the last ten years since the Passion Play! Herr
+Burgomaster, have you kept in view the seriousness of the mission of
+Ammergau when you made the actors of the Passion buffoons?"
+
+"Freyer!" The burgomaster drew himself up haughtily.
+
+"Well, Herr Burgomaster, have you performed no farces, or at least
+comic popular plays? Was the Carver of Ammergau--which for two years
+you had _publicly_ performed on the consecrated ground of the Passion
+Theatre, adapted to keep the impression of the Passion Play in the
+souls of the people of Ammergau? No--the last tear of remembrance which
+might have lingered would be dried by the exuberant mirth, which once
+roused would only too willingly exchange the uncomfortable tiara for
+the lighter fool's cap! And you gave the world this spectacle, Herr
+Burgomaster, you showed the personators of the story of our Lord and
+Saviour's sufferings in this guise to the strangers, who came, still
+full of reverence, to see the altar--on which the sacred fire had
+smouldered into smoke! I know you will answer that you wished to give
+the people a little breathing space after the terrible earnestness of
+the Passion Play and, from your standpoint, this was prudent, for you
+will be the gainer if the community is cheerful under your rule. Happy
+people are more easily governed than grave, thoughtful ones! I admit
+that you have no other desire than to make the people happy according
+to your idea, and that your whole ambition is to leave Ammergau great
+and rich. But, Herr Burgomaster, you cannot harmonize the two objects
+of showing the world, with convincing truth, the sublime religion of
+pain and resignation, and living in ease and careless frivolity. The
+divine favor cannot be purchased without the sacrifice of pleasure and
+personal comfort, otherwise we are merely performing a puppet show with
+God, and His blessing will be withdrawn."
+
+Freyer paused and stood gazing into vacancy with folded arms.
+
+The burgomaster watched him calmly a long time. "I have listened to you
+quietly because your view of the matter interested me. It is the idea
+of an enthusiast, a character becoming more and more rare in our
+prosaic times. But pardon me--I can give it only a subjective value.
+According to your theory, I must keep Ammergau, as a bit of the Middle
+Ages, from any contact with the outside world, rob it of every aid in
+the advancement of its industrial and material interests in order, as
+it were, to prepare the unfortunate people, by want and trouble, to be
+worthy representatives of the Passion. This would be admirable if,
+instead of Burgomaster of Ammergau, I were Grand Master of an Order for
+the practice of spiritual asceticism--and Ammergau were a Trappist
+monastery. But as burgomaster of a secular community, I must first of
+all provide for its prosperity, and that this would produce too much
+luxury there is not, as yet, unfortunately, the slightest prospect! My
+task as chief magistrate of a place is first to render it as great,
+rich, and happy as possible, that is a direct obligation to the village
+and an indirect one to the State. Not until I have satisfied _this_ can
+I consider the more ideal side of my office--in my capacity as director
+of the Passion Play. But even there I have no authority to exercise any
+moral constraint in the sense of your noble--but fanatical and
+unpractical view. You must have had bitter experiences, Herr Freyer,
+that you hold earthly blessings so cheap, and you must not expect to
+convert simple-hearted people, who enjoy their lives and their work, to
+these pessimistic views, as if we could serve our God only with a
+troubled mind. We must let a people, as well as a single person, retain
+its individuality. I want to rear no hypocrites, and I cannot force
+martyrdom on any one, in order to represent the Passion Play more
+naturally. Such things cannot be enforced."
+
+"For that very reason you need people who will do them voluntarily! And
+though, thank Heaven, they still exist in Ammergau, you have not such
+an over supply that you need repel those who would fain increase the
+little band. Believe me, I have lived in closer communion with my home
+in the outside world than if I had remained here and been swayed by the
+various opposing streams of our brothers' active lives! Do you know
+where the idea of the Passion Play reveals itself in its full beauty?
+Not here in Ammergau--but in the world outside--as the gas does not
+give its light where it is prepared, but at a distance. Therefore, I
+think you ought not to measure a son of Ammergau's claim according to
+the time he has spent here, but according to the feeling he cherishes
+for Ammergau, and in this sense even _the stranger_ may be a better
+representative of Ammergau than the natives of the village themselves."
+
+"Yes, Freyer, you are right--but--_one_ frank word deserves another.
+You have surprised and touched me--but although I am compelled to make
+many concessions to circumstances and the spirit of the times, which
+are in contradiction to my own views and involve me in conflicts with
+myself, of which you younger men probably have no idea--nothing in the
+world will induce me to be faithless to my principles in matters
+connected with the Passion. Forgive the harsh words, Freyer, but I must
+say it: Your actions do not agree with the principles you have just
+uttered, and you cannot make this contradiction appear plausible to any
+one. Who will credit the sincerity of your moral rigor after you have
+lived nine years in an equivocal relation with the lady with whom you
+left us? Freyer, a man who has done _that_--can no longer personate the
+Christ."
+
+Freyer stood silent as a statue.
+
+The burgomaster held out his hand--"You see that I cannot act
+otherwise; do you not? Rather let the Play die out utterly than a
+Christus on whom rests a stain. So long as you cannot vindicate
+yourself--"
+
+Freyer drew himself proudly: "And that I will never do!"
+
+"You must renounce it."
+
+"Yes, I must renounce it. Farewell, Herr Burgomaster!"
+
+Freyer bowed and left the room--he was paler than when he entered, but
+no sound betrayed the mortal anguish gnawing at his heart. The
+burgomaster, too, was painfully moved. His poor head was burning--he
+was sorry for Freyer, but he could not do otherwise.
+
+Just as Freyer reached the door, a man hurried in with a letter, Freyer
+recognized the large well-known chirography on the envelope as he
+passed--Countess Wildenau's handwriting. His brain reeled, and he was
+compelled to cling to the door post. The burgomaster noticed it.
+"Please sit down a moment, Herr Freyer--the letter is addressed to me,
+but will probably concern you."
+
+The man retired. Freyer stood irresolute.
+
+The burgomaster read the contents of the note at a glance, then handed
+it to Freyer.
+
+"Thank you--I do not read letters which are not directed to me."
+
+"Very well, then I must tell you. The Countess Wildenau, not having
+your address, requests me to take charge of a considerable sum of money
+which I am to invest for you in landed property or in stocks, according
+to my own judgment. You were not to hear of it until the gift had been
+legally attested. But I deem it my duty to inform you of this."
+
+Freyer stood calmly before him, with a clear, steadfast gaze. "I cannot
+be forced to accept a gift if I do not desire it, can I?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"Then please write to the countess that I can accept neither gifts nor
+any kind of assistance from--strangers, and that you, as well as I,
+will positively decline every attempt to show her generosity in this
+way."
+
+"Freyer!" cried the burgomaster, "will you not some day repent the
+pride which rejects a fortune thus flung into your lap?"
+
+"I am not proud--I begged my bread on my way here, Herr
+Burgomaster--and if there were no other means of livelihood, I would
+not be ashamed to accept the crust the poorest man would share with
+me--but from Countess Wildenau I will receive nothing--I would rather
+starve."
+
+The burgomaster sprang from his chair and approached him. His gaunt
+figure was trembling with emotion, his weary eyes flashed with
+enthusiasm, he extended his arms: "Freyer--now you belong to us once
+more--_now_ you shall again play the Christus."
+
+Silently, in unutterable, mournful happiness, Freyer sank upon the
+burgomaster's breast.
+
+His home was appeased.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+                        AT DAISENBERGER's GRAVE.
+
+
+It was high noon. The children were at school, the grown people had
+gone to their work. The village was silent and no one stopped Freyer as
+he hurried down the broad old "Aussergasse," as the main street of the
+place was called, with its painted houses, toward the graveyard and the
+church.
+
+In the cemetery beside the church stands a simple monument with a
+bronze bust. An unlovely head with all sorts of lines, as if nature had
+intentionally given this soul an ugly husk, out of wrath that it was
+not to be hers, that she could not have as much power over it as over
+other dust-born mortals--for this soul belonged to Heaven, earth had no
+share in it. But no matter how nature strove to disfigure it, its pure
+beauty shone through the physical covering so radiantly that even
+mortal eyes perceived only the beauty and overlooked the ugliness.
+
+This soul, which might also be called the soul of Ammergau, for it
+cherished the whole population of the village, lived for the people,
+gave them all and kept nothing for itself--this noble spirit, to whom
+the gratitude of the survivors, and they embraced the whole community,
+had created a monument, was Alois Daisenberger--the reformer of the
+Passion Play.
+
+It is a peculiar phenomenon that the people of Ammergau, in contrast to
+all others, are grateful only for intellectual gifts while they punish
+physical benefits with scorn. It offends their pride to be compelled to
+accept such trifling donations and they cherish a suspicion that the
+donor may boast of his benefits. Whoever has not the self-denial to
+allay this suspicion by enduring all sorts of humiliations and affronts
+must not try to aid the Ammergau villagers. He who has done any _good_
+deed has accomplished _nothing_--not until he has atoned for it, as
+though it were something evil, does he lend it its proper value and
+appease the offended pride of the recipient.
+
+This was the case with Daisenberger. He bore with saintly patience all
+the angularities and oddities of these strange characters--and they
+honored him as a saint for it. He had the eye of genius for the natural
+talent, a heart for the sufferings, appreciation of the intellectual
+grandeur of these people. And he gave security for it--for no worldly
+honor, no bishopric which was offered could lure him away. What was it
+that outweighed everything with which church and government desired to
+honor him? Whoever stands in the quiet graveyard, fanned by the keen
+mountain air which brings from the village stray notes of a requiem
+that is being practised, surrounded by snow-clad mountain-peaks gazing
+dreamily down on the little mound with its tiny cross, whoever gazes at
+the monument with its massive head, looking down upon the village from
+beneath a garland of fresh blue gentians, is overwhelmed by a mournful
+suspicion that here is concealed a secret in which a great intellect
+could find the satisfaction of its life! But it seems as if the key
+rested in Daisenberger's grave.
+
+To this grave Freyer hastened. The first errand of the returned
+personator of Christ was to his author! The solitary grave lay
+forgotten by the world. It is a genuine work of faith and love when the
+author vanishes in his creation and leaves the honor to God. The whole
+world flocks to the Passion Play--but no one thinks of him who created
+for it the form which renders it available for the present time. It is
+the "Oberammergau," not the "Daisenberger" Passion Play.
+
+He gave to the people of Ammergau not only his life and powers--but
+also that which a man is most loth to resign--his fame. He was one to
+whom earth could neither give anything, nor take anything away.
+Therefore there were few who visited his grave in the little Ammergau
+churchyard. The grace and beauty of his grand and noble artist soul
+weave viewless garlands for it.
+
+Freyer knelt in mute devotion beside the grave and prayed, not for
+himself, not even for him who was one of the host of the blessed, but
+to him, that he might sanctify his people and strengthen them with the
+sacred earnestness of their task. The longer he gazed at the iron, yet
+gentle face, without seeing any change in the familiar features, which
+had once smiled so kindly at him when he uttered for the first time the
+words expelling the money-changers from the temple--the greater became
+his grief, as if the soul of his people had died with Daisenberger, as
+if Ammergau were only a graveyard and he the sole mourner.
+
+"Oh, great, noble soul, which had room for a world, and yet confined
+yourself to this narrow valley in order to create in it for us a world
+of love--here lies your unworthy Christus moistening with his tears the
+stone which no angel will roll away that we may touch your transfigured
+body and say, give us thy spirit!"
+
+Then, as if the metal mouth from which he implored an answer spoke with
+a brazen tongue, a bell echoed solemnly on the air. It was twelve
+o'clock. What the voice said could not be clothed in words. It had
+exhorted him when, in baptism, he was received into the covenant of Him
+whom he was chosen to personate--it had consoled him when, a weeping
+boy, he followed his father's bier, it had threatened him when on
+Sunday with his schoolmates, he pulled too violently at the bell-rope,
+it had warned him when he had lingered high up on the peaks of the
+Kofel or Laaber searching for Alpine roses or, shouting exultantly,
+climbing after chamois. A smile flitted over his face as he thought of
+those days! And then--then that very bell had pealed resonantly, like a
+voice from another world, on the morning of the Passion, at the hour
+when he stood in the robes of the Christ behind the curtain with the
+others to repeat the Lord's Prayer before the performance--the lofty,
+fervent prayer that God would aid them, that all might go well "for His
+honor." And again it had rung solemnly and sweetly, when he saw the
+beautiful woman praying at dawn in the garden--to the imaginary God,
+which he was _not_. Then it seemed as if the bell burst--there was a
+shrill discord, a keen pang through brain and heart. Oh, memory--the
+past! Angel and fiend at once--why do you conjure up your visions
+before one dedicated to the cross and to death, why do you rouse the
+longing for what is irrevocably lost? Freyer, groaning aloud, rested
+his damp brow against the cold stone, and the bronze bust, as if in
+pity, dropped a blue gentian from its garland on the penitent's head
+with a light touch, like a kiss from spirit lips. He took it and placed
+it in his pocketbook beside the child's fair curl--the only thing left
+him of all his vanished happiness.
+
+Then a hand was laid on his shoulder: "I thank you--that _this_ was
+your first visit." The sexton stood before him: "I see that you have
+remained a true son of Ammergau. May God be with you!"
+
+Freyer's tears fell as he grasped the extended hand. "Oh, noble blood
+of Daisenberger, thank you a thousand times. And you, true son of
+Ammergau--nephew of our dead guardian angel, tell me in his name, will
+you receive me again in your midst and in the sacred work?"
+
+"I do not know what you have done and experienced," said the sexton,
+gazing at him with his large, loyal brown eyes. "I only saw you at a
+distance, praying beside my uncle's grave, and I thought that whoever
+did that could not be lost to us. By this dear grave, I give you my
+hand. Will you work with me, live, and if need be die for the sacred
+will of this dead man, for our great task, as he cherished it in his
+heart?"
+
+"Yes and amen!"
+
+"Then may God bless you."
+
+The two men looked earnestly and loyally into each other's eyes, and
+their hands clasped across the consecrated mound, as though taking an
+oath.
+
+Suddenly a woman, still beautiful though somewhat beyond youth,
+appeared, moving with dignified cordiality toward Freyer: "Good-day,
+Herr Freyer; do you remember me?" she said in a quiet, musical voice,
+holding out her hand.
+
+"Mary!" cried Freyer, clasping it. "Anastasia, why should I not
+remember you? How do you do? But why do you call me Herr Freyer? Have
+we become strangers?"
+
+"I thought I ought not to use the old form of speech, you have been
+away so long, and"--she paused an instant, looking at him with a
+pitying glance, as if to say: "And are so unhappy." For delicate
+natures respect misfortune more than rank and wealth, and the sufferer
+is sacred to them.
+
+The sexton looked at the clock: "I must go, the vesper service begins
+again at one o'clock. Farewell till we meet again. Are you coming to
+the gymnasium this evening?"
+
+"Hardly--I am not very well. But we shall see each other soon. Are you
+married now? I have not asked--"
+
+The sexton's face beamed with joy. "Yes, indeed, and well married. I
+have a good wife. You'll see her when you call on me."
+
+"A good wife--you are a happy man!" said Freyer in a low tone.
+
+"She has a great deal to do just now for the little one."
+
+"Ah--you have a child, too!"
+
+"And such a beautiful one!" added Anastasia. "A lovely little girl! She
+will be a Mary some day. But the sexton's wife is spoiling her, she
+hardly lets her out of her arms."
+
+"A good mother--that must be beautiful!" said Freyer, with a strange
+expression, as if speaking in a dream. Then he pressed his friend's
+hand and turned to go.
+
+"Will you not bid me good bye, too?" asked Anastasia. The sexton sadly
+made a sign behind Freyer's back, as if to say: "he has suffered
+sorely!" and went into his church.
+
+Freyer turned quickly. "Yes, I forgot, my Mary. I am rude, am I not?"
+
+"No--not rude--only unhappy!" said Anastasia, while a pitying look
+rested upon his emaciated face.
+
+"Yes!" replied Freyer, lowering his lids as if he did not wish her to
+read in his eyes _how_ unhappy. But she saw it nevertheless. For a
+time the couple stood beside Daisenberger's grave. "If _he_ were only
+alive--he would know what would help you."
+
+Freyer shook his head. "If Christ Himself should come from Heaven, He
+could not help me, at least except through my faith in Him."
+
+"Joseph, will you not go home with me? Look down yonder, there is my
+house. It is very pretty; come with me. I shall consider it an honor if
+you will stop there!" She led the way. Freyer involuntarily followed,
+and they soon reached the little house.
+
+"Then you no longer live with your brother, the burgomaster?"
+
+"Oh, no! After I grew older I longed for rest and solitude, and at my
+sister-in-law's there is always so much bustle on account of the shop
+and the children--one hears so many painful things said--" She paused
+in embarrassment. Then opening the door into the little garden, they
+went to the rear of the house where they could sit on a bench
+undisturbed.
+
+"What you heard was undoubtedly about me, and you could not endure it.
+You faithful soul--was not that the reason you left your relatives and
+lived alone?" said Freyer, seating himself. "Be frank--were you not
+obliged to hear many things against me, till you at last doubted your
+old schoolmate?"
+
+"Yes--many evil things were said of you and the princess--but I never
+believed them. I do not know what happened, but whatever it was, _you_
+did nothing wrong."
+
+"Mary, where did you obtain this confidence?"
+
+"Why," she answered smiling, "surely I know my son--and what mother
+would distrust her _child_?"
+
+Freyer was deeply moved: "Oh, you virgin mother. Marvel of Heaven, when
+in the outside world a mother abandoned her own child--here a child was
+maturing into a mother for me, a mother who would have compassion on
+the deserted one. Mary, pure maid-servant of God, how have I deserved
+this mercy?"
+
+"I always gave you a mother's love, from the time we played together,
+and I have mourned for you as a mother all the nine years. But I
+believed in you and hoped that you would some day return and close your
+old mother's eyes and, though twenty years had passed, I should not
+have ceased to hope. I was right, and you have come! Ah! I would
+not let myself dream that I should ever play with you again in the
+Passion--ever hold my Christus in my arms and support his weary head
+when he is taken down from the cross. That happiness transcends every
+other joy! True, I am an old maid now, and I wonder that they should
+let me take the part again. I am thirty-nine, you know, rather old for
+the Mary, yet I think it will be more natural, for Mary, too, was old
+when Christ was crucified!"
+
+"Thirty-nine, and still unmarried--such a beautiful creature--how did
+that happen, Mary?"
+
+She smiled: "Oh, I did not wish to marry any one.--I could not care for
+any one as I did for my Christus!"
+
+"Great Heaven, is this on my conscience too? A whole life wasted in
+silent hope, love, and fidelity to me--smiling and unreproachful! This
+soul might have been mine, this flower bloomed for me in the quiet home
+valley, and I left it to wither while searing heart and brain in the
+outside world. Mary, I will not believe that you have lost your life
+for my sake--you are still so beautiful, you will yet love and be happy
+at some good man's side."
+
+"Oh, no, what fancy have you taken into your head! That was over long
+ago," she answered gayly. "I am a year older than you--too old for a
+woman. Look, when the hair is grey, one no longer thinks of marrying."
+And pushing back her thick brown hair from her temples, she showed
+beneath white locks--as white as snow!
+
+"Oh, you have grown grey, perhaps for me--!" he said, deeply moved.
+
+"Yes, maternal cares age one early."
+
+He flung himself in the grass before her, unable to speak. She passed
+her hand gently over his bowed head: "Ah, if my poor son had only
+returned a happy man--how my heart would have rejoiced. If you had
+brought back a dear wife from the city, I would have helped her, done
+the rough work to which she was not accustomed--and if you had had a
+child, how I would have watched and tended it! If it had been a boy, we
+would have trained him to be the Christus--would we not? Then for
+twenty years he could have played it--your image."
+
+Freyer started as though the words had pierced his inmost soul. She did
+not suspect it, and went on: "Then perhaps the Christus might have
+descended from child to grandchild in your family--that would have been
+beautiful."
+
+He made no reply; a low sob escaped his breast.
+
+"I have often imagined such things during the long years when I sat
+alone through the winter evenings! But unfortunately it has not
+resulted so! You return a poor lonely man--and silver threads are
+shining in _your_ hair too. When I look at them, I long to weep. What
+did those wicked strangers in the outside world do to you, my poor
+Joseph, that you are so pale and ill? It seems as if they had crucified
+you and taken you down from the cross ere life had wholly departed; and
+now you could neither live nor die, but moved about like one half dead.
+I fancy I can see your secret wounds, your poor heart pierced by the
+spear! Oh, my suffering child, rest your head once more on the knee of
+her who would give her heart's blood for you!" She gently drew his head
+down and placing one hand under it, like a soft cushion, lovingly
+stroked his forehead as if to wipe away the blood-stains of the crown
+of thorns, while tear after tear fell from her long lashes on her
+son--the son of a virgin mother.
+
+Silence reigned around them--there was a rustling sound above their
+heads as if the wind was blowing through palms and cedars--a weeping
+willow spread its boughs above them, and from the churchyard wall the
+milkwort nodded a mute greeting from Golgotha.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+                             THE WATCHWORD.
+
+
+While the lost son of Ammergau was quietly and sadly permitting the
+miracle of his home to produce its effect upon him, and rising from one
+revelation to another along the steep path which again led him to the
+cross, the countess was languishing in the oppressive atmosphere of the
+capital and its relations.
+
+Three days had passed since the parting from Freyer, but she scarcely
+knew it! She lived behind her closed curtains and in the evenings
+sat in the light of lamps subdued by opalescent shades, as if in a
+never-changing white night, in which there could be neither dusk nor
+dawn. And it was the same in her soul. Reason--cold, joyless reason,
+with its calm, monotonous light, now ruled her, she had exhausted all
+the forces of grief in those farewell hours. For grief, too, is a force
+which can be exhausted, and then the soul will rest in indifference.
+Everything was now the same to her. The sacrifice and the cost of the
+sacrifice. What did the world contain that was worth trouble and
+anxiety? Nothing! Everything she had hoped for on earth had proved
+false--false and treacherous. Life had kept its promise to her in
+nothing; there was no happiness, only he who had no desires was
+happy--a happiness no better than death! And she had not even reached
+that stage! She still wanted so many things: honor, power, beauty, and
+luxury, which only wealth procures--and therefore this also.
+
+Now she flung herself into the arms of beauty--"seeking in it the
+divine" and the man who offered her his hand in aid would understand
+how to obtain for her, with taste and care, the last thing she expected
+from life--pleasure! Civilization had claimed her again, she was the
+woman of the century, a product of civilization! She desired nothing
+more. A marriage of convenience with a clever, aristocratic man, with
+whom she would become a patron of art and learning; a life of amusement
+and pleasurable occupation she now regarded as the normal one, and the
+only one to be desired.
+
+While Freyer, among his own people, was returning to primitiveness and
+simplicity, she was constantly departing farther from it, repelled and
+terrified by the phenomena with which Nature, battling for her eternal
+rights, confronted her. For Nature is a tender mother only to him who
+deals honestly with her--woe betide him who would trifle with her--she
+shows him her terrible earnestness.
+
+"Only despise reason and learning, the highest powers of mankind!" How
+often the Mephistopheles within her soul had jeeringly cried. Yes, he
+was right--she was punished for having despised and misunderstood the
+value of the work of civilization at which mankind had toiled for
+years. She would atone for it. She had turned in a circle, the wheel
+had almost crushed her, but at least she was glad to have reached the
+same spot whence she started ten years ago. At least so she believed!
+
+In this mood the duke found her on his return from Prankenberg.
+
+"Good news, the danger is over! The old pastor was prudent enough to
+die with the secret!" he cried, radiant with joy, as he entered.
+
+"Nothing was to be found! There is nothing in the church record! The
+Wildenaus have no proof and can do nothing unless Herr Freyer plays us
+a trick with the marriage certificate--"
+
+"That anxiety is needless!" replied the countess, taking from her
+writing-table the little package containing Freyer's farewell note, the
+marriage certificate, and the account-book. "There, read it."
+
+Her face wore a strange expression as she handed it to him, a look as
+if she were accusing him of having tempted her to murder an innocent
+person. She was pale and there was something hostile, reproachful, in
+her attitude.
+
+The duke glanced through the papers. "This is strange," he said very
+gravely: "Is the man so great--or so small?"
+
+"So great!" she murmured under her breath.
+
+"Hm! I should not have expected it of him. Is this no farce? Has he
+really gone?"
+
+"Yes! And here is something else." She gave him the burgomaster's
+letter: "This is the answer I received to-day to my offer to provide
+for Freyer's future."
+
+"If this is really greatness--then--" the prince drew a long breath as
+if he could not find the right word: "Then--I don't know whether we
+have done right."
+
+The countess felt as if a thunderbolt had struck her. "_You_ say
+that--_you_?"
+
+The duke rose and paced up and down the room. "I always tell the truth.
+If this man was capable of such an act--then--I reproach myself, for he
+deserved better treatment than to be flung overboard in this way, and
+we have incurred a great responsibility."
+
+"Good Heavens, and you say this now, when it is too late!" groaned the
+unhappy woman.
+
+"Be calm. The fault is _mine_--not yours. I will assume the whole
+responsibility--but it oppresses me the more heavily because, ever
+since I went to Prankenberg, I have been haunted by the question
+whether this was really necessary? My object was first of all to save
+you. In this respect I have nothing for which to reproach myself. But
+I overestimated your danger and undervalued Freyer. I did not know
+him--now that I do my motive dissolves into nothing."
+
+He cast another glance at Freyer's farewell note and shook his head:
+"It is hard to understand! What must it have cost thus at one blow to
+resign everything that was dear, give up without conditions the papers
+which at least would have made him a rich man--and all without one
+complaint, without any boastfulness, simply, naturally! Madeleine, it
+is overwhelming--it is _shameful_ to us."
+
+The countess covered her face. Both remained silent a long time.
+
+The duke still gazed at the letter. Then, resting his head on his hand
+and looking fixedly into vacancy, he said: "There is a constraining
+power about this man, which draws us all into its spell and compels us
+not to fall behind him in generosity. But--how is this to be done? He
+cannot be reached by ordinary means. I am beginning now to understand
+_what_ bound you to him, and unfortunately I must admit that, with the
+knowledge, my guilt increases. My justification lay only in the
+misunderstanding of what now forces itself upon me as an undeniable
+fact--that Freyer was not so unworthy of you, Madeleine, as I
+believed!" He read the inscription on the little bank book: "To keep
+the graves of my dear ones!" and was silent for a time as if something
+choked his utterance: "How he must have suffered--! When I think how
+_I_ love you, though you have never been mine--and he once called you
+his--resigned you and went away, with death in his heart! Oh, you
+women! Madeleine, how could you do this in cold blood? If it had been
+for love of me--but that illusion vanished long ago."
+
+"Condemned--condemned by you!" moaned the countess in terror.
+
+"I do not condemn you, Madeleine, I only marvel that you could do it,
+if you knew the man as he is."
+
+"I did not know him in this guise," said the countess proudly. "But--I
+will not be less honest than you, Duke, I am not sure that I could have
+done it, had I known him as I do _now_."
+
+The duke passed his handkerchief across his brow, which was already
+somewhat bald. "One thing is certain--we owe the man some reparation.
+Something must be done."
+
+"What shall we do? He will refuse anything we offer--though it were
+myself. That is evident from the burgomaster's letter." She closed her
+eyes to keep back the tears. "All is vain--he can never forgive me."
+
+"No, he certainly cannot do that. But the man is worthy of having us
+fulfill the only wish he has expressed to you--"
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"To defer our marriage until the first anguish of his grief has had
+time to pass away."
+
+The countess drew a long breath, as if relieved of a heavy burden:
+"Duke, that is generous and noble!"
+
+"If you had been legally wedded and were obliged to be legally
+divorced, we could not be united in less than a year. Let us show the
+poor man the honor of regarding him as your lawfully wedded husband and
+pay him the same consideration as if he were. That is all we can do for
+him at present, and I shall make it a point of honor to atone, by this
+sacrifice, in some degree for the heavy responsibility which is
+undeniably mine and which, as an honest man, I neither can nor desire
+to conceal from myself."
+
+He went to her and held out his hand. "I see by your radiant eyes,
+Countess, that this does not cost you the sacrifice which it does me--I
+will not pretend to be more unselfish than I am, for I hope by means of
+it to gain in your esteem what I lose in happiness by this time of
+delay!"
+
+He kissed her hand with a sorrowful expression which she had never seen
+in him before. "Permit me to take leave of you for to-day, I have an
+engagement with Prince Hohenheim. To-morrow we will discuss the matter
+farther. _Bon soir_!"
+
+The countess was alone. An engagement with Prince Hohenheim! When had
+an engagement with any one taken precedence--of her? Duke Emil was
+using pretexts. She could not deceive herself, he was--not really cold,
+but chilled. What a terrible reproach to her! What neither time, nor
+any of her great or trivial errors had accomplished, what had not
+happened even when she preferred a poor low-born man to the rich
+noble--occurred now, when she rejected the former--for the latter.
+
+Many a person does not realize the strength of his own moral power, and
+how it will baffle the most crafty calculation. Every tragical result
+of a sin is merely the vengeance of these moral forces, which the
+criminal had undervalued when he planned the deed. This was the case
+with the duke. He had advised a breach with Freyer--advised it with the
+unselfish intention of saving her, but when the countess followed his
+advice and he saw by Freyer's conduct _what_ a heart she had broken, he
+could not instantly love the woman who had been cruel enough to do an
+act which he could not pardon himself for having counselled.
+
+Madeleine Wildenau suspected this, though not to its full extent. The
+duke was far too chivalrous to think for a moment of breaking his
+plighted troth, or letting her believe that he repented it. But the
+delay which he proposed as an atonement to the man whom they had
+injured, said enough. Must _all_ abandon her--every bridge on which she
+stepped break? Had she lost by her act even the man of whom she was
+sure--surer than of anything else in the world! How terrible then this
+deed must have been! Madeleine von Wildenau blushed for herself.
+
+Yet as there are certain traits in feminine nature which are the last a
+woman gives up, she now hated Freyer, hated him from a spirit of
+contradiction to the duke, who espoused his cause. And as the feminine
+nature desires above all things else that which is denied, she now
+longed to bind the duke again because she felt the danger of losing
+him. The fugitive must be stopped--the sport might perhaps lend her
+charmless, wretched life a certain interest. An unsatisfactory one, it
+is true, for even if she won him again--what then? What would she have
+in him? Could he be anything more to her than a pleasant companion
+who would restore her lost power and position? She glanced at her
+mirror--it showed her a woman of thirty-eight, rouged to seem ten years
+younger--but beneath this rouge were haggard cheeks. She could not
+conceal from herself that art would not suffice much longer--she
+had faded--her life was drawing toward evening, age spared no one!
+But--when she no longer possessed youth and beauty, when the time came
+that only the moral value of existence remained, what would she have
+then? To what could she look back--in what find satisfaction, peace?
+Society? It was always the same, with its good and evil qualities. To
+one who entered into an ethical relation with it, it contained besides
+its apparent superficiality boundless treasures and resources. "The
+snow is hard enough to bear," people say in the mountains when, in the
+early Spring, the loose masses have melted into a firm crust. Thus,
+under the various streams, now cold, now warm, the surface of society
+melts and forms that smooth icy rind of form over which the light-foot
+glides carelessly, unconscious that beneath the thin surface are hidden
+depths in which the philosopher and psychologist find material enough
+for the study of a whole life. But when everything which could serve
+the purposes of amusement was exhausted, the countess' interest in
+society also failed. Once before she had felt a loathing for it, when
+she was younger than now--how would it be when she was an old woman?
+The arts? Already their spell had been broken and she had fled to
+Nature, because she could no longer believe in their beautiful lies.
+
+The sciences? They were least suited to afford pleasure! Had she not
+grown so weary of her amateur toying with their serious investigations
+that she fled, longing for a revelation, to the childish miracles of
+Oberammergau? Aye--she was again, after the lapse of ten years,
+standing in the selfsame spot, seeking her God as in the days when she
+fancied she had found His footprints. The trace proved delusive, and
+must she now begin again where ten years before she ended in weariness
+and discontent? Must she, who imagined that she had embraced the true
+essence, return to searching, doubting? No, the flower cannot go back
+into the closed bud; the feeling which caused the disappointment
+impelled onward to truth! Love for God had once unfolded, and though
+the object proved deceptive--the _feeling_ was true, and struggled to
+find its goal as persistently as the flower seeks the sun after it has
+long vanished behind clouds. But had she missed her way because she
+thought she had reached the _goal_ too _soon_? She had followed the
+trace no longer, but left it in anger--discouragement, at the first
+disappointment! What if the path which led her to Ammergau was the
+_right_ one? And the guide along it _had_ been sent by God? What if she
+had turned from the path because it was too long and toilsome, rejected
+the guide because he did not instantly bring God near to her impatient
+heart, and she must henceforth wander aimlessly without consolation or
+hope? And when the day of final settlement came, what imperishable
+goods would she possess? When the hour arrived which no mortal can
+escape, what could aid her in the last terror, save the consciousness
+of dwelling in the love of God, of going out of love to love--out of
+longing to fulfillment? She had rejected love, she had turned back in
+the path of longing and contented herself with earthly joys--and when
+she left the world she would have nothing, for the soul which does not
+seek, will not find! A life which has not fulfilled its moral task is
+not _finished_, only _broken off_, death to it is merely _destruction_,
+not _completion_.
+
+The miserable woman flung herself down before the mirror which showed
+her the transitoriness of everything earthly and, for the first time in
+her life, looked the last question in the face and read no answer
+save--despair.
+
+"Help my weakness, oh God!" she pleaded. "Help me upward to Thee. Show
+me the way--send me an angel, or write Thy will on the border of the
+clouds, work a miracle, oh Lord, for a despairing soul!" Thus she
+awaited the announcement of the divine will in flaming characters and
+angel tongues--and did not notice that a poor little banished household
+sprite was standing beside her, gazing beseechingly at her with tearful
+eyes because it had the word which would aid her, the watchword which
+she could find nowhere--only a simple phrase: _the fulfillment of
+duty!_ Yet because it was as simple and unassuming as the genius which
+brought it, it remained unheeded by the proud, vain woman who, in her
+arrogance, spite of the humiliations she had endured, imagined that her
+salvation needed a messenger from Heaven of apocalyptic form and power.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+                               MEMORIES.
+
+
+Amid conflicts such as those just described, the countess lived,
+passing from one stage of development to another and unconsciously
+growing older--mentally maturing. Several weeks had now passed since
+her parting with Freyer, but the apathy with which, from that hour, she
+had regarded all external things still remained. She left the duke to
+arrange the affair with the Wildenaus, which, a short time ago, she had
+considered of sufficient importance to sacrifice Freyer. She admired
+the duke's tact and cleverness, but it seemed as if he were not acting
+for her but for some other person.
+
+When he brought the news that the Wildenaus, owing to the obstinacy of
+the witness Martin, had given up their plan of a legal prosecution on
+the ground of Josepha's deposition, and were ready for an amicable
+settlement--she did not rejoice over anything save the old servant's
+fidelity; everything else she accepted as a just recompense of fate in
+return for an _unwarrantably_ high price she had paid.
+
+She was not annoyed because obliged to pay those whom she had injured a
+sum so large as considerably to lessen her income. She did not care for
+the result; her father was now a dying man and the vast sums he had
+used were again at her disposal. After all--what did it matter? If she
+married the duke in a year, she would be obliged to give up the whole
+property! But--need she marry him, if the Wildenaus could prove nothing
+against her? She sank into a dull reverie. But when the duke mentioned
+the cousins' desire for the little hunting-castle, life suddenly woke
+in her again. "Never, never!" she cried, while a burning blush
+crimsoned her face: "Rather all my possessions than that!" A flood of
+tears suddenly dissolved her unnatural torpor.
+
+"But, dearest Madeleine, you will never live there again!" said the
+duke consolingly.
+
+"No--neither I nor any living mortal will enter it again; but,
+Duke--must I say it? There sleeps my child; there sleeps the dream of
+my heart--it is the mausoleum of my love! No, leave me that--no
+stranger's foot must desecrate it! I will do anything, will give
+the Wildenaus twice, thrice as much; they may choose any of my
+estates--only not that one, and even if I marry you, when I must resign
+everything, I will ask you to buy it from my cousins, and you will not
+refuse my first request?"
+
+The prince gazed at her long and earnestly; for the first time a ray of
+the old love shone in his eyes. "Do you know that I have never seen you
+so beautiful as at this moment? Now your own soul looks out from your
+eyes! Now I absolve you from everything. Forgive me--I was mistaken in
+you, but this impulse teaches me that you are still yourself. It does
+me good!"
+
+"Oh, Duke! There is little merit, when the living was not allowed his
+rightful place--to secure it to the dead!"
+
+"Well, it is at least an act of atonement. Madeleine, there cannot be
+more joy in Heaven over the sinner who repents than I felt just now at
+your words. Yes, my poor friend, you shall keep the scene of your
+happiness and your grief untouched--I will assure you of it, and will
+arrange it with the Wildenaus."
+
+"Duke! Oh, you are the best, the noblest of men!" she exclaimed,
+smiling through her tears: "Do you know that I love you as I never did
+before? I thought it perfectly natural that you could not love me as
+you saw me during those days. I felt it, though you did not intend to
+let me see it."
+
+She had not meant to assume it, but these words expressed the charming
+artlessness which had formerly rendered her so irresistible, and the
+longer the duke had missed it, the less he was armed against the spell.
+
+"Madeleine!" he held out his arms--and she--did she know how it
+happened? Was it gratitude, the wish to make at least _one_ person
+happy? She threw herself on his breast--for the first time he held her
+in his embrace. Surely she was his betrothed bride! But she had not
+thought of what happened now. The duke's lips sought hers--she could
+not resist like a girl of sixteen, he would have considered it foolish
+coquetry. So she was forced to submit.
+
+"_Honi soit qui mal y pense!_" he murmured, kissing her brow, her
+hair--and her lips. But when she felt his lips press hers, it suddenly
+seemed as though some one was saying dose beside her: "_You!_" It was
+the word Freyer always uttered when he embraced her, as though he knew
+of nothing better or higher than that one word, in which he expressed
+the whole strength of his emotion! "You--you!" echoed constantly in her
+ears with that sweet, wild fervor which seemed to threaten: "the next
+instant you will be consumed in my ardor." Again he stood before her
+with his dark flaming eyes and the overwhelming earnestness of a mighty
+passion, which shadowed his pale brow as the approaching thunder-storm
+clouded the snow-clad peaks of his mountains. And she compared it with
+the light, easy tenderness, the "_honi soi qui mal y pense_" of the
+trained squire of dames who was pressing his first kiss upon her
+lips--and she loathed the stranger. She released herself with a sudden
+movement, approached the window and looked out. As she gazed, she
+fancied she saw the dark figure of the deserted one, illumined by the
+crimson glare of the forest conflagration, holding out his hand with a
+divinely royal gesture to raise and shelter her on his breast. Once
+more she beheld him gaze calmly down at the charred timber and heard
+him say smiling: "The wood was mine."
+
+Then--then she beheld in the distant East a sultry room, shaded by gay
+awnings, surrounded by rustling palm-trees, palm-trees, which drew
+their sustenance from the soil on which the Redeemer's blood once
+flowed. He sat beside the bed of the mother of a new-born child,
+whispering sweet, earnest words--and the mother was she herself, the
+babe was his.
+
+Then she beheld this same man kneeling by the coffin of a child, the
+rigid, death-white face buried under his raven locks. It was the child
+born on the consecrated soil of the burning East, which she had left to
+pine in the cold breath of the Western winter. She withdrew from it the
+mother-heart, in which the tender plant of the South might have gained
+warmth. She had left that father's child to die.
+
+Yet he did not complain; uttered no reproach--he remained silent.
+
+She saw him become more and more solitary and silent. The manly beauty
+wasted, his strength failed--at last she saw him noiselessly cross
+the carpeted floor of this very room and close the door behind him
+never to return! No, no, it could not be--all that had happened was
+false--nothing was true save that he was the father of her child, her
+husband, and no one else could ever be that, even though she was
+separated from him for ever.
+
+"Duke!" she cried, imploringly. "Leave me to myself. I do not
+understand my own feelings--I feel as if arraigned before the judgment
+seat of God. Let me take counsel with my own heart--forgive me I am a
+variable, capricious woman--one mood to-day and another to-morrow; have
+patience with me, I entreat you."
+
+The duke looked gravely at her, and answered, nodding: "I
+understand--or rather--I am afraid to understand!"
+
+"Duke, I am not suited to marry. Let the elderly woman go her way
+alone--I believe I can never again be happy. I long only for rest and
+solitude."
+
+"You need rest and composure. I will give you time and wait your
+decision, which can now be absolutely untrammelled, since your business
+affairs are settled and the peril is over."
+
+"Do not be angry with me, Duke--and do not misunderstand me--oh
+Heaven--you might think that I had only given my promise in the dread
+of poverty and disgrace and now that the peril was past, repented."
+
+The duke hesitated a moment. Then he said in a low, firm tone: "Surely
+you know that I am the man of sober reason, who is surprised by
+nothing. '_Tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner_.' So act without
+regard to me, as your own feeling dictates." He held out his hand:
+"There was a time when I seriously believed that we might be happy
+together. That is now past--you will destroy no illusion, if you assert
+the contrary."
+
+"Perhaps not even a sincere desire of the heart?" replied the countess,
+smiling.
+
+The duke became deeply earnest. "That suggestion is out of place
+here.--Am I to wound you from gallantry and increase the measure of
+your self-reproaches by showing you that I suffer? Or tell a falsehood
+to lessen your responsibility? We will let all that rest. If you want
+me, send for me. Meanwhile, as your faithful attorney, I will arrange
+the matter of the hunting castle."
+
+"Duke--how petty I am in your presence--how noble you are!"
+
+"That is saying far too much, Countess! I am content, if you can bear
+me witness that at least I have not made myself ridiculous." He left
+the room--cold, courteous, stoical as ever!
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau hurried to the window and flung it open. "Pour
+in, light and air, mighty consolers--ah, now I breathe, I live again!"
+
+Once more she could freely show her face, had no occasion to conceal
+herself. The danger of a "scandal" was over, thanks to the lack of
+proof. She need no longer shun the Wildenaus--old Martin was faithful
+and her husband, the most dangerous witness, had gone, disappeared. Now
+she had nothing more to dread; she was free, mistress of her fortune,
+mistress of her will, she breathed once more as if new-born.
+
+Liberty, yes, _this_ was happiness. She believed that she had found it
+at last! And she would enjoy it. She need not reproach herself for
+breaking her troth to the prince, he had told her so--if thereby she
+could appease the avenging spirits of her deed to Freyer, they must
+have the sacrifice! True, to be reigning duchess of a country was a
+lofty position; but--could she purchase it at the cost of being the
+wife of a man whom she did not love? Why not? Was she a child?--a
+foolish girl? A crown was at stake--and should she allow sentimental
+scruples to force her to sacrifice it to the memory of an irrevocably
+lost happiness?
+
+She shook her head, as if she wanted to shake off a bandage. She was
+ill from the long days spent in darkness and confinement like a
+criminal. That was the cause of these whims. Up and out into the open
+air, where she would again find healthy blood and healthy thoughts.
+
+She rang the bell, a new servant appeared.
+
+"My arrival can now be announced. Tell Martin to bring the carriage
+round, I will go to drive."
+
+"Very well, Your Highness."
+
+She seemed to have escaped from a ban. She had never known liberty.
+Until she married the Count von Wildenau she had been under the control
+of a governess. Then, in her marriage with the self-willed old man she
+was a slave, and she had scarcely been a widow ere she forged new
+fetters for herself. Now, for the first time, she could taste liberty.
+The decision was not pressing. The cool stoic who had waited so long
+would not lose patience at the last moment--so she could still do what
+she would.
+
+So the heart, struggling against the unloved husband, deceived the
+ambitious, calculating reason which aspired to a crown.
+
+The carriage drove up. It was delightful to hear a pair of spirited
+horses stamping before a handsome equipage, to be assisted to enter by
+a liveried servant and to be able to say: "This is yours once more!"
+The only shadow which disturbed her was that on Martin's face, a shadow
+resting there since she had last visited her castle of the Sleeping
+Beauty. She well knew for whom the old man was grieving. It was a
+perpetual reproach and she avoided talking with him, from a certain
+sense of diffidence. She could justify herself to the keen intelligence
+of the duke--to the simplicity of this plain man she could not; she
+felt it.
+
+It was a delightful May evening. A sea of warm air and spring perfumes
+surrounded her, and crowds thronged the streets, enjoying the evening,
+after their toilsome work, as if they had just waked from their winter
+sleep. On the corners groups paused before huge placards which they
+eagerly studied, one pushing another away. What could it be?
+
+Then old Martin, as if intentionally, drove close to the sidewalk,
+where the people stood in line out to the street before those posters.
+There was a little movement in the throng; people turned to look at the
+splendid equipage, thus leaving the placard exposed. The countess read
+it--the blood congealed in her veins--there, in large letters, stood
+the words: "Oberammergau Passion Play." What did it mean? She leaned
+back in the carriage, feeling as if she must shriek aloud with
+homesickness, with agonized longing for those vanished days of a great
+blissful delusion! Again she beheld the marvellous play. Again the
+divine sufferer appeared to the world--the mere name on that wretched
+placard was already exerting its spell, for the pedestrians, pausing on
+their errands, stopped before it by hundreds, as if they had never read
+the words "Passion Play" before! And the man who helped create this
+miracle, to which a world was again devoutly pilgrimaging, had been
+clasped in her arms--had loved her, been loyally devoted to her, to her
+alone, and she had disdained him! Now he was again bringing the
+salvation of the divine word and miracle--she alone was shut out, she
+had forfeited it by her own fault. She was--as in his wonderful gift of
+divination he had once said--one of the foolish virgins who had burned
+her oil, and now the heavenly bridegroom was coming, but she stood
+alone in the darkness while the others were revelling at the banquet.
+
+The rattle of wheels and the trampling of the crowds about her were
+deafening, and it was fortunate, for, in the confused uproar, the cry
+which escaped the tortured heart of the proud lady in the coroneted
+carriage died away unheard. Lilacs and roses--why do you send forth so
+intoxicating a fragrance, why do you still bloom? Can you have the
+heart to smile at a world in which there is such anguish? But lilacs,
+roses, and a beautiful May-sun laughed on, the world was devoutly
+preparing for the great pilgrimage to Oberammergau. She only was
+exiled, and returned to her stone palace, alone, hopeless--with
+infinite desolation in her heart.
+
+A note from the duke awaited her. He took his leave for a few weeks, in
+order to give her time to understand her own heart clearly. Now she was
+utterly alone.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+                          THE MEASURE IS FULL.
+
+
+From that day the countess showed an unwonted degree of interest in the
+newspapers. The first question when she waked in the morning was for
+the papers. But the maid noticed that she opened only the pages
+containing the reports from Oberammergau.
+
+"Your Highness seems to be very much interested in the Passion Play,"
+the woman ventured to remark.
+
+The countess blushed, and her "yes" was so curt and repellent that the
+maid was alarmed at her own presumption.
+
+One thing, however, was certain--her mistress, after reading these
+reports, always looked pale and worn.
+
+And in truth the unhappy woman, while reading the descriptions of this
+year's performances, felt as if she were drinking a cup of wormwood
+drop by drop. Freyer's name was echoing throughout the world. Not only
+did the daily press occupy itself with him--but grave men, æsthetes of
+high rank, found his acting so interesting that they wrote pamphlets
+about it and made it the subject of scientific treatises. The countess
+read them all. Freyer was described as the type in which art, nature,
+and religion joined hands in the utmost harmony! "As he himself stands
+above the laws of theatrical routine, he raises us far above what we
+term stage effect, as it were into a loftier sphere. He does not
+act--he is the Christ! The power of his glance, the spirituality of the
+whole figure, and an indefinable spell of the noblest sorrow which
+pervades his whole person, are things which cannot be counterfeited,
+which are no play, but truth. We believe what he says, because we feel
+that this man's soul does not belong to this world, that its own
+individual life has entered into his part. Because he thinks, feels,
+and lives not as Joseph Freyer, but as the Christus--is the source of
+the impression which borders upon the supernatural."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau had just read these words, which cut her to the
+heart. Ah, when strangers--critics--men said such things--surely she
+had no cause to be ashamed. Who would reproach her, a weak,
+enthusiastic woman, for yielding to this spell? Surely no one--rather
+she would be blamed for not having arrested the charm, for having, with
+a profane hand, destroyed the marvel that approached her, favoring her
+above the thousands who gazed at it in devout reverence!
+
+She leaned her head on her hand and gazed mournfully out of the window
+at which she sat. They had now been playing six weeks in Oberammergau.
+It was June. The gardens of the opposite palace were in their fullest
+leafage; and the birds singing in the trees lured her out. Her eyes
+followed a little swallow flying toward the mountains. "Oh, mountain
+air and blue gentians--earthly Paradise!" she sighed! What was she
+doing here in the hot city when all were flying to the mountains, she
+saw no society, and the duke had gone away. She, too, ought to have
+left long before. But where should she go? She could not visit
+Oberammergau, and she cared for no other spot--it seemed as though the
+whole world contained no other place of abode than this one village
+with its gay little houses and low windows--as if in all the world
+there were no mountains, and no mountain air save in Ammergau. A few
+burning tears ran down her cheeks. Doubtless there was mountain air,
+there were mountain peaks higher, more beautiful than in Ammergau, but
+nowhere else could be found the same capacity for enjoying the
+magnificence of nature! Everywhere there is a church, a religion, but
+nowhere so religious an atmosphere as there.
+
+"Oh, my lost Paradise, my soul greets you with all the anguish of the
+exiled mother of my sex and my sin!" she sighed.
+
+And yet, what was Eve's sin to hers? Eve at least atoned in love and
+faith with the man whom she tempted to sin. Therefore God could forgive
+her and send to the race which sprung from her fall a messenger of
+reconciliation. Eve was a wife and a mother. But she, what was she? Not
+even that! She had abandoned her husband and lived in splendor and
+luxury while he grieved alone. She had given him only one child, and
+even to that had acted no mother's part, and finally had thrust him out
+into poverty and sorrow, and led a life of wealth and leisure, while he
+earned his bread by the sweat of his brow. No, the mother of sin was a
+martyr compared to her, a martyr to the nature which _she_ denied, and
+therefore she was shut out from the bond of peace and pity which Eve's
+atonement secured.
+
+Some one knocked. The countess started from her reverie. The servant
+announced that His Highness' nurses had sent for her; they thought
+death was near.
+
+"I will come at once!" she answered.
+
+The prince lived near the Wildenau Palace, and she reached him in a few
+minutes.
+
+The sick man's mind was clearer than it had been for several months.
+The watery effusions in the brain which had clouded his consciousness
+had been temporarily absorbed, and he could control his thoughts. For
+the first time he held out his hand to his daughter: "Are you there, my
+child?"
+
+It touched her strangely, and she knelt by his side. "Yes, father!"
+
+He stroked her hair with a kindly, though dull expression: "Are you
+well?"
+
+"In body, yes papa! I thank you."
+
+"Are you happy?"
+
+The countess, who had never in her life perceived any token of paternal
+affection in his manner, was deeply moved by this first sign of
+affection in the hour of parting. She strove to find some soothing
+reply which would not be false and yet satisfy his feeble reasoning
+powers; but he had again forgotten the question.
+
+"Are you married?" he asked again, as if he had been absent a long
+time, and saw his daughter to-day for the first time.
+
+The nurses withdrew into the next room.
+
+The father and daughter were alone. Meantime his memory seemed to be
+following some clue.
+
+"Where is your husband?"
+
+"Which one?" asked the countess, greatly agitated. "Wildenau?"
+
+"No, no--the--the other one; let him come!" He put out his hand
+gropingly, as if he expected some one to clasp it: "Say farewell--"
+
+"Father," sobbed the countess, laying the seeking hand gently back on
+the coverlet. "He cannot bid you farewell, he is not here!"
+
+"Why not? I should have been glad to see him--son-in-law--grandson--no
+one here?"
+
+"Father--poor father!" The countess could say no mare. Laying her head
+on the side of her father's bed, she wept bitterly.
+
+"Hm, hm!" murmured the invalid, and a glance of intelligence suddenly
+flashed from his dull eyes at his daughter. "My child, are you
+weeping?" He reflected a short time, then his mind seemed to grow clear
+again.
+
+"Oh, yes. No one must know! Foolish weaknesses! Tell him I sincerely
+ask his pardon; he must forgive me. Prejudiced, old--! I am very sorry.
+Can't you send for him?"
+
+"Oh, papa, I would gladly bring him, but it is too late--he has gone
+away!"
+
+"Ah! then I shall not see him again. I am near my end."
+
+The countess could not speak, but pressed her lips to her father's cold
+hand.
+
+"Don't grieve; you will lose nothing in me; be happy. I spent a great
+deal of money for you--women, gaming, dinners, what value are they
+all?" He made a gesture of loathing: "What are they now?"
+
+A chill ran through his veins, and his breath grew short and labored.
+"I'm curious to see how it looks up there!" He pondered for a time. "If
+you knew of any sensible pastor, you might send for him; such men often
+_do_ know something."
+
+"Certainly, father!"
+
+The countess hurried into the next room and ordered a priest to be sent
+for to give extreme unction.
+
+"You wish to confess and take the communion too, do you not, papa?"
+
+"Why yes; one doesn't wish to take the old rubbish when starting on the
+great journey. We don't carry our soiled linen with us when we travel.
+I have much on my conscience, Magdalena--my child--most of all, sins
+committed against you! Don't bear your foolish old father ill-will for
+it."
+
+"No, father, I swear it by the memory of this hour!"
+
+"And your husband"--he shook his head--"he is not here; it's a pity!"
+
+Then he said no more but lay quietly, absorbed in his own thoughts,
+till the priest came.
+
+Madeleine withdrew during the confession. What was passing in her mind
+during that hour she herself could not understand. She only knew that
+her father's inquiry in his dying hour for his despised, disowned
+son-in-law was the keenest reproach which had been addressed to her.
+
+The sacred ceremony was over, and the priest had left the house.
+
+The sick man lay with a calm, pleasant expression on his face, which
+had never rested there before. Madeleine sat down by the bed and took
+his hand; he gratefully returned her gentle pressure.
+
+"How do you feel, dear father?" she asked gently.
+
+"Very comfortable, dear child."
+
+"Have you made your peace with God?"
+
+"I hope so, my child! So far as He will be gracious to an old sinner
+like me." He raised his eyes with an earnest, trustful look, then a
+long--agonizing death struggle came on. But he held his daughter's hand
+firmly in his own, and she spent the whole night at his bedside without
+stirring, resolute and faithful--the first fulfillment of duty in her
+whole life.
+
+The struggle continued until the next noon ere the daughter could close
+her father's eyes. A number of pressing business matters were now to be
+arranged, which detained her in the house of mourning until the
+evening, and made her sorely miss her thoughtful friend, the duke. At
+last, at nine o'clock, she returned to her palace, wearied almost unto
+death.
+
+The footman handed her a card: "The gentleman has been here twice
+to-day and wished to see Your Highness on very urgent business. He was
+going to leave by the last train, but decided to stay in order to see
+you. He will try again after nine o'clock--"
+
+The countess carried the card to the gas jet and read: "Ludwig Gross,
+drawing-teacher." Her hand trembled so violently that she almost
+dropped it. "When the gentleman comes, admit him!" She was obliged to
+cling to the balustrade as she went upstairs, she was so giddy.
+Scarcely had she reached her boudoir when she heard the lower bell
+ring--then footsteps, a familiar voice--some one knocked as he had done
+ten years ago in the Gross House; but the man whom he then brought,
+nothing would ever bring again.
+
+She did not speak, her voice failed, but she opened the door
+herself--Ludwig Gross stood before her. Both gazed at each other a long
+time in silence. Both were struggling for composure and for words, and
+from the cheeks of both every drop of blood had vanished. The countess
+held out her hand, but he did not seem to see it. She pointed to a
+chair, and said in a hollow tone: "Sit down," at the same time sinking
+upon a divan opposite.
+
+"I will not disturb you long, Your Highness!" Ludwig answered, seating
+himself a long distance off.
+
+"If you disturbed me, I should not have received you."
+
+Ludwig felt the reproof conveyed in the words for the hostility of his
+manner, but he could not help it.
+
+"Perhaps Your Highness remembers a certain Freyer?"
+
+"Herr Gross, that question is an insult, but I admit that, from your
+standpoint, you have a right to ask it. At any rate, Freyer did not
+commission you to do so."
+
+"No, Countess, for he does not know that I am here; if he did, he would
+have prevented it. I beg your pardon, if I perform my mission somewhat
+clumsily! I know it is unseemly to meddle with relations of which one
+is ignorant, for Freyer's reserve allowed me no insight into these. But
+here there is danger in delay, and where a human life is at stake,
+every other consideration must be silent. I have never been able to
+learn any particulars from Freyer. I only know that he was away nine
+years, as it was rumored, with you, and that he returned a beggar!"
+
+"That, Herr Gross, is no fault of mine."
+
+"Not that, Countess, but it must be _your_ fault alone which has caused
+relations so unnatural that Freyer was ashamed to accept from you even
+the well-earned payment for his labor."
+
+"You are right there, Herr Gross."
+
+"And that would be the least, Countess, but he has returned, not only a
+beggar, but a lost man."
+
+"Ludwig!"
+
+"Yes, Countess. That is the reason I determined, after consulting with
+the burgomaster, to come here and talk with you, if you will allow it."
+
+"Speak, for Heaven's sake; what has befallen him?"
+
+"Freyer is ill, Countess."
+
+"But, how can that be? He is acting the Christus every week and
+delighting the world?"
+
+"Yes, that is just it! He acts, as a candle burns down while it
+shines--it is no longer the phosphorescence of genius, it is a light
+which feeds on his own life and consumes it."
+
+"Merciful God!"
+
+"And he _wishes_ to die--that is unmistakable--that is why it is so
+hard to aid him. He will heed no counsel, follow no advice of the
+physician, do nothing which might benefit him. Now matters have gone so
+far that the doctor told us yesterday he might fall dead upon the stage
+at any hour--and we ought not to allow him to go on playing! But he
+cannot be prevented. He desires nothing more than death."
+
+"What is the matter?" asked the pale lips of the countess.
+
+"A severe case of heart disease, Countess, which might be arrested for
+several years by means of careful nursing, perfect rest, and
+strengthening food; but he has no means to obtain the better
+nourishment his condition requires, because he is too proud to be a
+burden on any one, and he lacks the ease of mind necessary to relieve
+his heart. Nursing is out of the question--he occupies, having given
+his own home to the poor when he left Ammergau, as you know, a
+miserable, damp room in a wretched tavern, just outside the village,
+and wanders about the mountains day and night. Of course speedy death
+is inevitable--hastened, moreover, by the exertions demanded by his
+part."
+
+Ludwig Gross rose. "I do not know how you estimate the value of a poor
+man's life, Countess," he said bitterly--"I have merely done my duty by
+informing you of my friend's condition. The rest I must leave to you."
+
+"Great Heaven! What shall I do! He rejects everything I offer. Perhaps
+you do not know that I gave him a fortune and he refused it."
+
+Ludwig Gross fixed an annihilating glance upon her. "If you know no
+other way of rendering aid here save by _money_--I have nothing more to
+say."
+
+He bowed slightly and left the room without waiting for an answer.
+
+"Ludwig!" she called: "Hear me!"
+
+He had gone--he was right--did she deserve anything better? No--no! She
+stood in the middle of the room a moment as if dazed. Her heart
+throbbed almost to bursting. "Has it gone so far! I have left the man
+from whose lips I drew the last breath of life to starve and languish.
+I allowed the heart on which I have so often rested to pine within
+dark, gloomy walls, bleed and break in silent suffering. Murderess, did
+you hear it? He is lost, through your sin! Oh, God, where is the crime
+which I have not committed--where is there a more miserable creature? I
+have murdered the most innocent, misunderstood the noblest, repulsed
+the most faithful, abused the most sacred, and for what?" She sank
+prostrate. The measure was full--was running over.--The angel with the
+cup of wormwood had overtaken her, as Freyer had prophesied and was
+holding to her lips the bitter chalice of her own guilt, which she must
+drain, drop by drop. But now this guilt had matured, grown to its full
+size, and stood before her, grinning at her with the jeer of madness.
+
+"Wings--oh, God, lend me wings! While I am doubting and despairing
+here--it may be too late--the terrible thing may have happened--he may
+have died, unreconciled, with the awful reproach in his heart! Wings,
+wings, oh God!" She started up and flew to the bell with the speed of
+thought. "Send for the head-groom at once!" Then she hurried into the
+chamber, where the maid was arranging her garments for the night. "Pack
+as quickly as possible whatever I shall need for a journey of two or
+three days--or weeks--I don't know myself."
+
+"Evening or street costumes?" asked the maid, startled by her mistress'
+appearance. "Street dresses!"
+
+Meantime the head-groom had come. She hastened into the boudoir: "Have
+relays of horses saddled and sent forward at once--it is after ten
+o'clock--there is no train to Weilheim--but I must reach Oberammergau
+to-night! Martin is to drive, send on four relays--I will give you four
+hours start--the men must be off within ten minutes--I will go at two
+o'clock--I shall arrive there at seven."
+
+"Your Excellency, that is scarcely possible"--the man ventured to say.
+
+"I did not ask whether it was possible--I told you that it _must_ be
+done, if it kills all my horses. Quick, rouse the whole stable--every
+one must help. I shall wait at the window until I see the men ride
+away."
+
+The man bowed silently, he knew that opposition was futile, but he
+muttered under his breath: "To ruin six of her best horses in one
+night--just for the sake of that man in Ammergau, she ought to be put
+under guardianship."
+
+The courtyard was instantly astir, men were shouting and running to and
+fro. The stable-doors were thrown open, lanterns flashed hither and
+thither, the trampling and neighing of horses were heard, the noise and
+haste seemed as if the wild huntsman was setting off on his terrible
+ride through the starless night.
+
+The countess stood, watch in hand, at the lighted window, and the
+figure of their mistress above spurred every one to the utmost haste.
+In a few minutes the horses for the relays were saddled and the grooms
+rode out of the courtyard.
+
+"The victoria with the pair of blacks must be ready at two," the
+head-groom said to old Martin. "You must keep a sharp look-out--I don't
+see how you will manage--those fiery creatures in that light carriage."
+
+The countess heard it at the window, but she paid no heed. If only she
+could fly there with the light carriage, the fiery horses, as her heart
+desired. Forward--was her only thought.
+
+"Must I go, too?" asked the maid, pale with fright.
+
+"No, I shall need no one." The countess now shut the windows and went
+to her writing-desk, for there was much to be done within the few short
+hours. Her father's funeral--sending the announcements--all these
+things must now be entrusted to others and a representative must be
+found among the relatives to fill her own place. She assigned as a
+pretext the necessity of taking a short journey for a day or two,
+adding that she did not yet know whether she could return in time for
+the funeral of the prince. Her pen fairly flew over the paper, and she
+finally wrote a brief note to the duke, in which she told him nothing
+except her father's death. The four hours slipped rapidly away, and as
+the clock struck two the victoria drove to the door.
+
+The countess was already standing there. The lamps at the entrance
+shone brightly, but even brighter was old Martin's face, as he curbed
+the spirited animals with a firm hand.
+
+"To Ammergau, Martin!" said the countess significantly, as she entered
+the equipage.
+
+"Hi! But I'll drive now!" cried the old man, joyously, not suspecting
+the sorrowful state of affairs, and off dashed the steeds as though
+spurred by their mistress' fears--while guilt and remorse accompanied
+her with the heavy flight of destiny.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+                        ON THE WAY TO THE CROSS.
+
+
+It was Sunday. Again the throngs surged around the Passion Theatre,
+more devout, more numerous than ever.
+
+Slowly, as if his feet could scarcely support him, a tall figure,
+strangely like one who no longer belongs to the number of the living,
+tottered through the crowd to the door of the dressing-room, while all
+reverently made way for him, yet every one perceived that it must be
+the Christus! Whoever met his eye shuddered as if the incarnation of
+woe had passed, as if he had seen the face of the god of sorrow.
+
+Eight o'clock had struck, the cannon had announced the commencement of
+the play, the waiting throng pressed in, crowding each other, and the
+doors were closed.
+
+Outside of the theatre it was silent and empty. The carriages had
+driven away. The people who could get no tickets had dispersed. Only
+the venders of photographs and eatables still sat in their booths,
+listening idly and sleepily to the notes of the music, which came in
+subdued tones through the board partition.
+
+Suddenly the ground trembled slightly under the wheels of a carriage
+driven at furious speed. A pair of horses covered with foam appeared in
+the distance--in a few seconds a dusty victoria stopped before the
+Passion Theatre.
+
+"St, st!" said one of the box-tenders, appearing at the top of the
+stairs and hurrying down to prevent farther disturbance.
+
+"Can I get a ticket?" asked the lady in the carriage.
+
+"I am very sorry--but unfortunately every seat is filled."
+
+"Oh, Heaven! I lost an hour--one of the horses met with an accident, I
+have driven all night--I beg you--I _must_ get in!"
+
+The box-tender shrugged his shoulders. "Unfortunately it is
+impossible!" he said with an offensively lofty manner.
+
+"I am not accustomed to find anything which I desire impossible, so far
+as it depends upon human beings to fulfill it," she answered haughtily.
+"I will pay any price, no matter whether it is a thousand marks, more
+or less--if you will get me even the poorest seat within the walls."
+
+"It is not a question of price!" was the smiling answer. "If we had the
+smallest space, we could have disposed of it a hundred times over
+to-day."
+
+"Then take me on the stage."
+
+"Oh, it is no use to speak of that--no matter who might come--no one is
+allowed there."
+
+"Then announce me to the burgomaster--I will give you my card."
+
+"I am very sorry, but I have no admittance to the stage during the
+performance. In the long intermission at twelve o'clock you might be
+announced, but not before."
+
+The countess' heart throbbed faster and faster. She could hear the
+notes of the music, she fancied she could distinguish the different
+voices, yet she was not permitted to enter. Now came the shouts of
+"Hosanna!"--yes, distinctly--that was the entry into Jerusalem, those
+were the exulting throngs who attended him. If she could only look
+through a chink--! Now, now it was still--then a voice--oh! she would
+recognize those tones among thousands. A draught of air bore them to
+her through the cracks in the walls. Yes, that was he; a tremor ran
+through every limb--he was speaking.
+
+The world hung on his lips, joy was in every eye, comfort in every
+heart--within was salvation and she must stand without and could not go
+to her own husband. But he was not her husband, that had been her own
+wish. Now it was granted!
+
+The "foolish virgin" outside the door burst into tears like a child.
+
+The man who had just refused her request so coldly, pitied her: "If I
+only knew how to help you, I would do so gladly," he said thoughtfully.
+"I'll tell you! If it is so important come during the intermission, but
+on _foot_, without attracting attention, to the rear entrance of the
+stage--then I'll try to smuggle you in, even if it is only into the
+passage for the chorus!"
+
+"Oh, sir, I thank you!" said the countess with the look which a lost
+soul might give to the angel who opened the gates of Paradise.
+
+"I will be there punctually at twelve. Don't you think I might speak to
+Herr Freyer during the intermission?" she asked timidly.
+
+A smile of sorrowful pity flitted over the man's face. "Oh, he speaks
+to no one. We are rejoiced every time that he is able to get through
+the performance."
+
+"Alas! is he so ill?"
+
+"Yes," replied the man in a tone very low as if he feared the very air
+might hear, "very ill."
+
+Then he went up the stairs again to his post.
+
+"Where shall we drive now?" asked Martin.
+
+The countess was obliged to reflect a short time ere she answered. "I
+think it would be best--to try to find a lodging somewhere--" she said
+hesitatingly, still listening to the sounds from the theatre to learn
+what was passing within, what scene they were playing--who was
+speaking? "Drive slowly, Martin--" she begged. She was in no hurry now:
+"Stop!" she called as Martin started; she had just heard a voice that
+sounded like _his_! Martin made the horses move very slowly as he drove
+on. Thus, at the most tardy pace, they passed around the Passion
+Theatre and then in the opposite direction toward the village. At the
+exit from the square an official notification was posted: "No Monday
+performances will be given hereafter; Herr Freyer's health will not
+permit him to play two days in succession."
+
+The countess pressed her clasped hands upon her quivering heart. "Bear
+it--it must be borne--it is your own fault, now suffer!"
+
+A stranger in a private carriage, who was looking for lodgings on the
+day everybody else was going away, was a welcome apparition in the
+village. At every house to which she drove the occupants who remained
+in it hastened to welcome her, but none of the rooms pleased her. For a
+moment she thought of going to the drawing-master's, but there also the
+quarters were too low and narrow--and she could not deceive herself,
+the tie between her and Ludwig Gross was sundered--he could not forgive
+what she had done to his friend; she avoided him as though he were her
+judge. And besides--she wanted quiet rooms, where an invalid could
+rest, and these were not easy to find now.
+
+At last she discovered them. A plain house, surrounded by foliage, in a
+secluded street, which had only two rooms on the ground floor, where
+they could live wholly unseen and unheard. They were plain apartments,
+but the ceilings were not too low, and the sunbeams shone through the
+chinks of the green shutters with a warm, yet subdued light. A
+peaceful, cheerful shelter.
+
+She hired them for an indefinite time, and quickly made an agreement
+with the elderly woman to whom they belonged. There was a little
+kitchen also, and the woman was willing to do the cooking. So for the
+next few days at least she had a comfortable home, and now would to
+Heaven that she might not occupy it in despair.
+
+"Well, now Your Highness is nicely settled," said old Martin, when the
+housewife opened the shutters, and he glanced down from his box into
+the pretty room: "I should like such a little home myself."
+
+The countess ordered the luggage to be brought in.
+
+"Where shall I put up, Your Highness?"
+
+"Go to the old post-house, Martin!"
+
+"Shan't I take you to the Passion Theatre?"
+
+"No, you heard that I must walk there." Martin shook his head--this
+seemed to him almost too humiliating to his proud mistress. But he did
+not venture to make any comment, and drove off, pondering over his own
+thoughts.
+
+It was nine o'clock. Three hours before the long intermission. What
+might not happen during that time? Could she wait, would not anxiety
+kill her or rob her of her senses? But nothing could be done, she
+_must_ wait. She could not hasten the hour on which depended life and
+death, deliverance or doom.--The nocturnal ride, the fright occasioned
+by the fiery horses which had upset the carriage and forced her to walk
+to the next relay and thus lose a precious hour, her agitation beside
+her father's sick bed, now asserted themselves, and she lay down on one
+of the neat white beds in the room and used the time to rest and
+recover her strength a little. She was only a feeble woman, and the
+valiant spirit which had so long created its own law and battled for
+it, was too powerful for a woman's feeble frame. It was fortunate that
+she was compelled to take this rest, or she would have succumbed. A
+restless slumber took possession of her at intervals, from which she
+started to look at the clock and mournfully convince herself that not
+more than five minutes had elapsed.
+
+The old woman brought in a cup of coffee, which she pressed upon her.
+No food had passed her lips since the day before, and the warm drink
+somewhat revived her. But the rapid throbbing of her heart soon
+prevented her remaining in bed, and rising, she busied herself a little
+in unpacking--the first time in her life that she had ever performed
+such work. She remembered how she had wept ten years ago in the Gross
+house, because she was left without a maid.
+
+At last the time of torture was over. The clock struck quarter to
+twelve. She put on her hat, though it was still far too early, but she
+could not bear to stay in the room. She wished at least to be near the
+theatre. When she reached the door her breath failed, and she was
+obliged to stop and calm herself. Then, summoning all her courage, she
+raised her eyes to Heaven, and murmuring: "In God's name," went to meet
+the terrible uncertainty.
+
+Now she repented that she did not use the carriage--she could scarcely
+move. It seemed at every step as if she were sinking into the earth
+instead of advancing, as if she should never reach the goal, as if the
+road stretched longer and longer before her. A burning noonday sun
+blazed down upon her head, the perspiration stood on her forehead
+and her lips were parched, her feet were swollen and lame from the
+night-watch at her father's bedside and the exhausting journey which
+had followed it. At last, with much effort she reached the theatre. The
+first part of the performance was just over--throngs of people were
+pouring out of the sultry atmosphere into the open air and hurrying to
+get their dinners. But every face wore a look of the deepest emotion
+and sorrow--on every lip was the one word: "Freyer!" The countess stole
+through the throngs like a criminal, holding her sunshade lower and
+drawing her veil more closely over her face. Only let her escape
+recognition now, avoid meeting any one who would speak to her--this was
+her mortal dread. If she could only render herself invisible! With the
+utmost exertion she forced her way through, and now she could at least
+take breath after the stifling pressure. But everything around her
+was now so bare, she was so exposed as she crossed the broad open
+space--she felt as though she were the target for every curious eye
+among the spectators. She clenched her teeth in her embarrassment--it
+was fairly running the gauntlet. She could no longer think or feel
+anything except a desire that the earth would swallow her. At last,
+tottering, trembling, almost overcome by heat and haste, she reached
+the welcome shade on the northern side of the theatre and stopped, this
+was her goal. Leaning against the wall, she half concealed herself
+behind a post at the door. Women carrying baskets passed her; they were
+admitted because they were bringing their husbands' food. They glanced
+curiously at the dusty stranger leaning wearily behind the door. "Who
+can she be? Somebody who isn't quite right, that's certain!" The
+tortured woman read this query on every face. Here, too, she was in a
+pillory. Oh, power and rank--before the wooden fence surrounding the
+great drama of Christian thought, you crumble and are nothing save what
+you are in and through love!
+
+The Countess Wildenau waited humbly at the door of the Passion Theatre
+until the compassionate box-opener should come to admit her.
+
+How long she stood there she did not know. Burning drops fell from brow
+and eyes, but she endured it like a suffering penitent. This was _her_
+way to the cross.
+
+The clock struck one. The flood was surging back from the village: "Oh,
+God, save me!" she prayed, trembling; her agony had reached its height.
+But now the man could not come until everyone was seated.
+
+And Freyer, what was he doing in his dressing-room, which she knew he
+never left during an intermission? Was he resting or eating some
+strengthening food? Probably one of the women who passed had taken him
+something? She envied the poor women with their baskets because they
+were permitted to do their duty.
+
+Then--she scarcely dared to believe it--the box-opener came running
+out.
+
+"I've kept you waiting a long time, haven't I? But every one has had
+his hands full. Now come quick!"
+
+He slipped stealthily forward, beckoning to her to follow, and led her
+through by-ways and dark corners, often concealing her with his own
+person when anyone approached. The signal for raising the curtain was
+given just as they reached a hidden corner in the proscenium, where the
+chorus entered. "Sit down there on the stool," he whispered. "You can't
+see much, it is true, but you can hear everything. It's not a good
+place, yet it's better than nothing."
+
+"Certainly!" replied the countess, breathlessly; she could not see,
+coming from the bright sunshine into the dusky space; she sank half
+fainting on the stool to which he pointed; she was on the stage of the
+Passion, near Freyer! True, she said to herself, that he must not be
+permitted to suspect it, lest he should be unable to finish his task;
+but at least she was near him--her fate was approaching its
+fulfillment.
+
+"You have done me a priceless service; I thank you." She pressed a bank
+note into the man's hand.
+
+"No, no; I did it gladly," he answered, noiselessly retreating.
+
+The exhausted woman closed her eyes and rested a few minutes from the
+torture she had endured. The chorus entered, and opened the drama
+again, a tableau followed, then the High Priest and Annas appeared in
+the balcony of his house, Judas soon entered, but everything passed
+before her like a dream. She could not see what was occurring on her
+side of the stage.
+
+Thus lost in thought, she leaned back in her dark corner, forgetting
+the present in what the next hours would bring, failing to hear even
+the hosannas. But now a voice startled her from her torpor.--"I
+spake openly to the world; I ever taught in the synagogue and in the
+temple--"
+
+Merciful Heaven, it was he! She could not see him, the side scenes
+concealed him; but what a feeling! His voice, which had so often
+spoken to her words of love, entreaty, warning, lastly of wrath and
+despair--without heed from her, without waking an echo in her cold
+heart, now pealed like an angel's message into the dark corner
+where she sat concealed like a lost soul that had forfeited the sight
+of the Redeemer! She listened eagerly to the marvellous tones of the
+words no longer addressed to her while the speaker's face remained
+concealed--the face on which, in mortal dread, she might have read the
+runes engraved by pain, and learned whether they meant life or death?
+And yet, at least she was near him; so near that she thought he must
+hear the throbbing of her own heart.
+
+"Bear patiently; do not disturb him in his sacred fulfillment of duty.
+It will soon be over!"
+
+The play seemed endlessly long to her impatient heart. Christ was
+dragged from trial to trial. The mockery, the scourging, the
+condemnation--the tortured woman shared them all with him as she had
+done the first time, but to-day it was like a blind person. She had not
+yet succeeded in seeing him, he always stood so that she could never
+catch a glimpse of his face. Would he hold out? She fancied that his
+voice grew weaker hour by hour. And she dared not tend him, dared not
+offer him any strengthening drink, dared not wipe the moisture from his
+brow. She heard the audience weeping and sobbing--the scene of bearing
+the cross was at hand!
+
+The sky had darkened, and heavy sultry clouds hung low, forming natural
+soffits to the open front stage, as if Heaven desired to conceal it
+from the curious gods, that they might not see what was passing to-day.
+
+Mary and John--the women of Jerusalem and Simon of Cyrene assembled,
+waiting in anxious suspense for the coming of the Christ. Anastasia was
+again personating Mary, the countess instantly recognized her pure,
+clear tones, and the meeting in the fields ten years before came back
+to her mind--not without a throb of jealous emotion. Now a movement
+among the audience announced the approach of the procession--of the
+cross! This time the actors came from the opposite direction and upon
+the front stage. Every vein in her body was throbbing, her brain
+whirled, she struggled to maintain her composure; at last she was to
+see him for the first time!
+
+"It is he, oh God!--it is my son!" cried Mary. Christ stepped upon the
+stage, laden with the cross. It was acting no longer, it was reality.
+
+His feet could scarcely support him under the burden, panting for
+breath, he dragged himself to the proscenium. The countess uttered a
+low cry of alarm; she fancied that she was looking into the eyes of a
+dying man, so ghastly was his appearance. But he had heard the
+exclamation and, raising his head, looked at her, his emaciated face
+quivered--he tottered, fell--he _was obliged_ to fall; it was in his
+part.
+
+The countess shuddered--it was too natural!
+
+"He can go no farther," said the executioner. "Here, strengthen
+yourself." The captain handed him the flask, but he did not take it.
+"You won't drink? Then drive him forward."
+
+The executioners shook him roughly, but Freyer did not stir--he _ought_
+not to move yet.
+
+Simon of Cyrene took the cross on his shoulders, and now the
+Christ should have risen, but he still lay prostrate. The cue was
+given--repeated--a pause followed--a few of the calmer ones began to
+improvise, the man who was personating; the executioner stooped and
+shook him, another tried to raise him--in vain. An uneasy movement ran
+through the audience--the actors gathered around and gazed at him. "He
+is dead! It has come upon us!" ran in accents of horror from lip to
+lip.
+
+An indescribable confusion followed. The audience rose tumultuously
+from the seats. Caiaphas, the burgomaster, ordered in a low tone: "To
+the central stage--every one! Quick--and then drop the curtain!" But no
+one heard him: He bent over the senseless figure. "It is only an attack
+of faintness," he called to the audience, but the excitement could no
+longer be allayed--all were pressing across the orchestra to the stage.
+
+The countess could bear it no longer--rank and station, the
+thousands of curious eyes to which she would expose herself were all
+forgotten--there is a cosmopolitanism which unites mortals in a common
+brotherhood more closely than anything else--a mutual sorrow.
+
+"Freyer, Freyer!" she shrieked in tones that thrilled every nerve of
+the bystanders: "Do not die--oh, do not die!" Rushing upon the stage,
+she threw herself on her knees beside the unconscious form.
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen--I must beg you to clear the stage"--shouted
+Caiaphas to the throng, and turning to the countess, whom he
+recognized, added: "Countess Wildenau--I can permit no stranger to
+enter, I _must_ beg you to withdraw."
+
+She drew herself up to her full height, composed and lofty--an
+indescribable dignity pervaded her whole bearing: "I have a right to be
+here--I am his wife!"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+                          STATIONS OF SORROW.
+
+
+"I am his wife!" Heaven and earth have heard it. She had conquered. The
+tremendous deed, fear of which had led her to the verge of crime--love
+had now done in a _single_ moment without conflict or delay. There was
+joy in heaven and on earth over the penitent sinner! And all the
+viewless powers which watch the way to the cross, wherever any human
+being treads it; all the angels, the guardian spirits of the now
+interrupted Play hastened to aid the new Magdalene, that she might
+climb the Mount of Calvary to the Hill of Golgotha. And as if the
+heavenly hosts were rushing down to accompany this bearer of the cross
+a gust of wind suddenly swept through the open space across the stage
+and over the audience, and the palms rustled in the breeze, the palaces
+of Jerusalem tottered, and the painted curtains swayed in the air. This
+one gust of wind had rent the threatening clouds so that the sun sent
+down a slanting brilliant ray like the dawn of light when chaos began
+to disappear!
+
+A light rain which, in the golden streaks, glittered like dusty pearls
+fell, settling the dust and dispelling the sultriness of the parched
+earth.
+
+Silence had fallen upon the people on the stage and in the audience,
+and as a scorched flower thirstily expands to the cooling dew, the sick
+man's lips parted and eagerly inhaled the damp, refreshing air.
+
+"Oh--he lives!" said the countess in a tone as sweet as any mother ever
+murmured at the bedside of a child whom she had believed dead, any
+bride on the breast of her wounded lover.
+
+[Illustration: "_I have a right to be here--I am his wife!_"]
+
+"He lives, oh, he lives!" all the spectators repeated.
+
+Meanwhile the physician had come and examined the sufferer, who had
+been placed on a couch formed of cloaks and shawls: "It is a severe
+attack of heart disease. The patient must be taken to better lodgings
+than he has hitherto occupied. This condition needs the most careful
+nursing to avoid the danger. I have repeatedly called attention to it,
+but always in vain."
+
+"It will be different now, Doctor!" said the countess. "I have already
+secured rooms, and beg to be allowed to move him there."
+
+"The Countess!" she suddenly heard a voice exclaim behind her--and when
+she glanced around, Ludwig Gross stood before her in speechless
+amazement.
+
+"Can it be? I have just arrived by the train from Munich--but I did not
+see--"
+
+"I suppose so--I drove here last night. But do not call me Countess any
+longer, Herr Gross--my name is Magdalena Freyer." The drawing-master
+made no reply, but knelt beside the sick man, who was beginning to
+breathe faintly and bent over him a long time: "If only it is not too
+late!" he muttered bitterly, still unappeased.
+
+The burgomaster approached the countess and held out his hand, gazing
+into her eyes with deep emotion. "Such an act can never be too late.
+Even if it can no longer benefit the individual, it is still a
+contribution to the moral treasure of the world," he said consolingly.
+
+"I thank you. You are very kind!" she answered, tears springing to her
+eyes.
+
+A litter had now been obtained and the physician ordered the sufferer
+to be lifted gently and laid upon it: "We will first take him to the
+dressing-room, and give him some food before carrying him home."
+
+The countess had mentioned the street: "It is some little distance to
+the house."
+
+The command was obeyed and the litter was carried to the dressing-room.
+The friends followed with the countess. On the way a woman timidly
+joined her and gazed at her with large, sparkling eyes: "I don't know
+whether you remember me? I only wanted to tell you how glad I am that
+you are here? Oh, how well he has deserved it!"
+
+"Mary!" said the countess, shamed and overpowered by the charm of this
+most unselfish soul, clasping both her hands: "Mary--Mother of God!"
+And her head sank on her companion's virgin breast Anastasia passed her
+arm affectionately around her and supported her as they moved on.
+
+"Yes, we two must hold together, like Mary and Magdalene! We will aid
+each other--it is very hard, but our two saints had no easier lot. And
+if I can help in any way--" They had reached the dressing-room, the
+group paused, the countess pressed Anastasia's hand: "Yes, we will hold
+together, Mary!" Then she hastened to her husband's side--but the
+doctor motioned to her to keep at a distance that the sudden sight of
+her might not harm the sick man when he recovered his consciousness. He
+felt his pulse: "Scarcely fifty beats--I must give an injection of
+ether."
+
+He drew the little apparatus from his pocket, thrust the needle into
+Freyer's arm and injected a little of the stimulating fluid. The
+bystanders awaited the result in breathless suspense: "Bring wine,
+eggs, bouillon, anything you can get--only something strong, which will
+increase the action of the heart."
+
+The drawing-master hurried off. The pastor, who had just heard of the
+occurrence, now entered: "Is the sacrament to be administered?" he
+asked.
+
+"No, there is no fear of so speedy an end," the physician answered.
+"Rest is the most imperative necessity." The burgomaster led the pastor
+to the countess: "This is Herr Freyer's wife, who has just publicly
+acknowledged her marriage," he said in a low tone: "Countess Wildenau!"
+
+"Ah, ah--these are certainly remarkable events. Well, I can only hope
+that God will reward such love," the priest replied with delicate tact:
+"You have made a great sacrifice, Countess."
+
+"Oh, if you knew--" she paused. "Hark--he is recovering his
+consciousness!" She clasped her hands and bent forward to listen--"may
+God help us now."
+
+"How do you feel, Herr Freyer?" asked the doctor.
+
+"Tolerably well, Doctor! Are you weeping, Mary? Did I frighten you?" He
+beckoned to her and she hastened to his side.
+
+The countess' eyes grew dim as he whispered something to Anastasia.
+
+This was the torture of the damned--Mary might be near him, his
+first glance, his first words were hers, while she, his wife, stood
+banished, at a distance! And she had made him suffer this torture for
+years--without compassion. "Oh, God, Thou art just, and Thy scales
+weigh exactly!" But the all-wise Father does not only punish--He also
+shows mercy.
+
+"Where is she?" Anastasia repeated his words in a clear, joyous tone:
+"You thought you saw her in the passage through which the chorus
+passed. Oh, you must have been mistaken!" she added at a sign from the
+physician.
+
+"Yes, you are right, how could she be there--it is impossible."
+
+The countess tried to move forward, but the physician authoritatively
+stopped her.
+
+The burgomaster gently approached him. "My dear Freyer--what could I do
+for you, have you no wish?"
+
+"Nothing except to die! I would willingly have played until the end of
+the performances--for your sake--but I am content."
+
+The drawing-master brought in the food which the physician had ordered.
+
+The latter went to him with a glass of champagne. "Drink this, Herr
+Freyer; it will do you good, and then you can eat something."
+
+But the sick man did not touch the glass: "Oh, no, I will take nothing
+more."
+
+"Why not? You must eat something, or you will not recover."
+
+"I cannot"
+
+"Certainly you can."
+
+"Very well, I _will_ not."
+
+"Freyer," cried Ludwig beseechingly, "don't be obstinate--what fancy
+have you taken into your head?" And he again vainly offered the
+strengthening draught.
+
+"Shall I live if I drink it?" asked Freyer.
+
+"Certainly,"
+
+"Then I will not take it."
+
+"Not even if I entreat you, Freyer?" asked the burgomaster.
+
+"Oh, do not torture me--do not force me to live longer!" pleaded Freyer
+with a heart-rending expression. "If you knew what I have suffered--you
+would not grudge the release which God now sends me! I have vowed to be
+faithful to my duty until death--did I not, sexton, on Daisenberger's
+grave? I have held out as long as I could--now let me die quietly."
+
+"Oh, my friend!" said the sexton, "must we lose you?" The strong man
+was weeping like a child. "Live for _us_, if not for yourself."
+
+"No, sexton, if God calls me, I must not linger--for I have still
+another duty. I have _lived_ for you--I must _die_ for another."
+
+"But, Herr Freyer!" said the pastor kindly, "suppose that this other
+person should not be benefitted by your death?"
+
+Freyer looked as if he did not understand him.
+
+"If this other of whom you speak--had come--to nurse and stay with
+you?" the pastor continued.
+
+Freyer raised himself a little--a blissful presentiment flitted over
+his face like the coming of dawn.
+
+"Suppose that your eyes did _not_ deceive you?" the burgomaster now
+added gently.
+
+"Am I not dreaming--was it true--was it possible?"
+
+"If you don't excite yourself and will keep perfectly calm," said the
+physician, "I will bring--your wife!"
+
+"My--wife? You are driving me mad. I have no wife."
+
+"No wife--you have _no wife_?" cried a voice as if from the depths of
+an ocean of love and anguish, as the unhappy woman who had forced her
+own husband to disown her, sank sobbing before him.
+
+A cry--"my dove!" and his head drooped on her breast
+
+A breathless silence pervaded the room. Every one's hands were clasped
+in silent prayer. No one knew whether the moment was fraught with life
+or death.
+
+But it was to bring life--for the Christus must not die on the way to
+the cross, and Mary Magdalene must still climb to its foot--the last,
+steepest portion--that her destiny might be fulfilled.
+
+The husband and wife were whispering together. The others modestly drew
+back.
+
+"And you wish to die? It was not enough that you vanished from my life
+like a shadow--you wish to go out of the world also?" she sobbed. "Do
+you believe that I could then find rest on earth or in Heaven?"
+
+"Oh, dear one, I am happy. Let me die--I have prayed for it always! God
+has mercifully granted it. When I am out of the world you will be a
+widow, and can marry another without committing a sin."
+
+"Oh, Heaven--Joseph! I will marry no other--I love no one save you."
+
+He smiled mournfully: "You love me now because I am dying--had I lived,
+you would have gone onward in the path of sin--and been lost. No, my
+child, I must die, that you may learn, by my little sacrifice, to
+understand the great atonement of Christ. I must sacrifice myself for
+you, as Christ sacrificed himself for the sins of mankind."
+
+"Oh, that is not needed. God has taken the will for the deed, and given
+it the same power. Your lofty, patient suffering has conquered me. You
+need not die. I mistook you for what you were not--a God, and did not
+perceive what you _were_. Now I do know it. Forgive my folly. To save
+me you need be nothing save a man--a genuine, noble, lovable man, as
+you are--then no God will be required."
+
+"Do you believe that?" Freyer looked at her with a divine expression:
+"Do you believe you could be content with a _mortal man_! No, my child,
+the same disappointment would follow as before. The flame that blazes
+within your soul does not feed upon earthly matter. You need a God, and
+your great heart will not rest until you have found Him. Therefore be
+comforted: The false Christ will vanish and the true one will rise from
+His grave."
+
+"No, do not wrong me so, do not die, let me not atone for my sin to the
+dead, but to the living! Oh, do not be cruel--do not punish me so
+harshly. You are silent! You are growing paler still! Ah, you will go
+and leave me standing _alone_ half way along the road, unable either to
+move forward or back! Joseph, I have broken every bond with the duke,
+have cast aside everything which separated us--have become a poor,
+helpless woman, and you will abandon me--now, when I have given you my
+whole existence, when I am nothing but your wife."
+
+Freyer raised himself.
+
+"Give me the wine--now I long to live." A universal movement of delight
+ran through the group of friends, and the countess held the foaming cup
+to his lips and supported his head with one hand, that he might drink.
+Then she gave him a little food and arranged him in a more comfortable
+position. "Come, let your wife nurse you!" she said so tenderly that
+all the listeners were touched. Then she laid a cooling bandage on his
+brow. "Ah, that does me good!" he said, but his eyes rested steadily on
+hers and he seemed to be alluding to something other than the external
+remedies, though these quickly produced their effect. His breathing
+gradually became more regular, his eyes closed, weakness asserted
+itself, but he slept soundly and quietly.
+
+The physician withdrew to soothe the strangers waiting outside by an
+encouraging report. Only Freyer's friends and the pastor remained. The
+countess rose from beside the sleeper's couch and stretched her arms
+towards Heaven: "Lend him to me, Merciful God! I have forfeited my
+right to him--I say it in the presence of all these witnesses--but
+be merciful and lend him to me long enough for me to atone for my
+sin--that I may not be doomed to the torture of eternal remorse!" She
+spoke in a low tone in order not to rouse the slumberer, but in a voice
+which could be distinctly heard by the others. Her hands were clasped
+convulsively, her eyes were raised as if to pierce to the presence of
+God--her noble bearing expressed the energy of despair, striving with
+eternity for the space of a moment.
+
+"Oh, God--oh, God, leave him with me! Hold back Thy avenging
+hand--grant a respite. Omnipotent One, first witness my
+atonement--first try whether I may not be saved by mercy! Friends,
+friends, pray with me!"
+
+She clasped their hands as if imploring help. Her strength was failing.
+Trembling, she sank beside Ludwig, and pressed her forehead, bedewed
+with cold perspiration, against his arm.
+
+All bared their heads and prayed in a low tone. Madeleine's breast
+heaved in mortal anguish and, almost stifled by her suppressed tears,
+she could only falter, half unconsciously: "Have pity upon us!"
+
+Meanwhile the doctor had made all necessary preparations and was
+waiting for the patient to wake in order to remove him to his home.
+
+The murmured prayers had ceased and the friends gathered silently
+around the bed. The countess again knelt beside the invalid, clasping
+him in a gentle embrace. Her tears were now checked lest she might
+disturb him, but they continued to flow in her heart. Her lips rested
+on his hand in a long kiss--the hand which had once supported and
+guided her now lay pale and thin on the coverlet, as if it would never
+more have strength to clasp hers with a loving pressure.
+
+"Are you weeping, dear wife?"
+
+That voice! She raised her head, but could not meet the eyes which
+gazed at her so tenderly. Dared _she_, the condemned one, enjoy the
+bliss of that look? No, never! And, without raising an eyelash, she hid
+her guilty brow with unutterable tenderness upon his breast. The feeble
+hand was raised and gently stroked her cheek, touching it as lightly as
+a withered leaf.
+
+"Do not weep!" he whispered with the voice of a consoling angel: "Be
+calm--God is good, He will be merciful to us also."
+
+Oh, trumpet of the Judgment Day, what is thy blare to the sinner,
+compared to the gentle words of pardoning love from a wounded breast?
+
+The countess was overpowered by the mild, merciful judgment.--
+
+A living lane had formed in front of the theatre. He was to be carried
+home, rumor said, and the people were waiting in a dense throng to see
+him. At last a movement ran through the ranks. "He is coming! Is he
+alive? Yes, they say he is!"
+
+Slowly and carefully the men bore out the litter on which he lay, pale
+and motionless as a dead man. The pastor walked on one side, and on the
+other, steadying his head, the countess. She could scarcely walk, but
+she did not avert her eyes from him.
+
+As on the way to Golgotha, low sobs greeted the little procession. "Oh,
+dear, poor fellow! Ah, just one look, one touch of the hand," the
+people pleaded. "Wait just one moment."
+
+As if by a single impulse the bearers halted and the people pressed
+forward with throbbing hearts, modestly, reverently touching the
+hanging coverlet, and gazing at him with tearful eyes full of
+unutterable grief.
+
+The countess, with a beautiful impulse of humanity, gently drew his
+hand from under the wraps and held it to the sorrowing spectators who
+had waited so long, that they might kiss it--and every one who could
+get near enough eagerly drank from the proffered beaker of love.
+Grateful eyes followed the countess and she felt their benediction with
+the joy of the saints when God lends their acts the power of divine
+grace. She was now a beggar, yet never before had she been rich enough
+to bestow such alms: "Yes, kiss his hand--he deserves it!" she
+whispered, and her eyes beamed with a love which was not of this earth,
+yet which blended _her_, the world, and everything it contained into a
+single, vast, fraternal community!
+
+Freyer smiled at her--and now she bore the sweet, tender gaze, for she
+felt as if a time might come when she would again deserve it.
+
+At last they reached the pretty quiet house where she had that morning
+hired lodgings for him and herself. Mourning love had followed him to
+the spot, the throng had increased so that the bearers could scarcely
+get in with the litter. "Farewell--poor sufferer, may God be with you,"
+fell from every lip as he was borne in and the door closed behind him.
+
+The spacious room on the lower floor received the invalid. The landlady
+had hurriedly prepared the bed and he was laid in it. As the soft
+pillows arranged by careful hands yielded to the weary form, and his
+wife bent over him, supporting his head on her arm--he glanced joyously
+around the circle, unable to think or say anything except: "Oh, how
+comfortable I am!" They turned away to hide their emotion.
+
+The countess laid her head on the pillow beside him, no longer
+restraining her tears, and murmuring in his ear: "Angel, you modest,
+forgiving, loving angel!" She was silent--forcing herself to repress
+the language of her heart, for the cry of her remorse might disturb the
+feeble invalid. Yet he felt what moved her, he had always read her
+inmost soul so long as she loved him--not until strangers came between
+them did he fail to comprehend her. Now he felt what she must suffer in
+her remorse and pitied her torture, he thought only of how he might
+console her. But this moved her more than all the reproaches he had a
+right to make, for the greater, the more noble his nature revealed
+itself to be the greater her guilt became!
+
+The friends were to take turns in helping the countess watch the
+invalid through the night, and now left him. The doctor said that there
+was no immediate danger and went away to get more medicines. When all
+had gone, she knelt beside the bed and said softly, "Now I am yours! I
+do not ask whether you will forgive me, for I see that you have already
+done so--I ask only whether you will again take the condemned,
+sin-laden woman to your heart? In my deed today I chose the fate of
+poverty. I can offer you nothing more in worldly wealth, I can only
+provide you with a simple home, work for you, nurse you, and atone by
+lifelong love and fidelity for the wrong I have done you. Will you be
+content with that?"
+
+Freyer drew her toward him with all his feeble strength. Tears of
+unutterable happiness were trickling down his cheeks. "I thank Thee,
+God, Thou has given her to me to-day for the first time! Come, my
+wife--place your fate trustfully in God's hands and your dear heart in
+mine, and all will be well. He will be merciful and suffer me to live a
+few years that I may work for you, not you for me. Oh, blissful words,
+work for my wife, they make me well again. And now, while we are alone,
+the first sacred kiss of conjugal love!"
+
+He tried to raise his head, but she pressed it with gentle violence
+back upon the pillow. "No, you must keep perfectly quiet. Imagine that
+you are a marble statue--and let me kiss you. Remain cold and let all
+the fervor of a repentant, loving heart pour itself upon you." She
+stooped and touched his pale mouth gently, almost timidly, with her
+quivering lips.
+
+"Oh, that was again an angel's kiss!" he murmured, clasping his hands
+over the head bowed in penitent humility.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XL.
+
+                             NEAR THE GOAL.
+
+
+From that hour Magdalena Freyer never left her husband's bedside.
+Though friends came in turn to share the night-watches, she remained
+with them. After a few days the doctor said that unless an attack of
+weakness supervened, the danger was over for the present, though he did
+not conceal from her that the disease was incurable. She clasped her
+hands and answered: "I will consider every day that I am permitted to
+keep him a boon, and submissively accept what God sends."
+
+After that time she always showed her husband a smiling face, and
+he--perfectly aware of his condition--practiced the same loving
+deception toward her. Thus they continued to live in the salutary
+school of the most rigid self-control--she, bearing with dignity a sad
+fate for which she herself was to blame--he in the happiness of that
+passive heroism of Christianity, which goes with a smile to meet death
+for others! An atmosphere of cheerfulness surrounded this sick-bed,
+which can be understood only by one who has watched for months beside
+the couch of incurable disease, and felt the gratitude with which every
+delay of the catastrophe, every apparent improvement is greeted--the
+quiet delight afforded by every little relief given the beloved
+sufferer, every smile which shows us he feels somewhat easier.
+
+This cup of anguish the penitent woman now drained to the dregs. True,
+a friendly genius always stood beside it to comfort her: the hope that,
+though not fully recovered, he might still be spared to her. "How many
+thousands who have heart disease, with care and nursing live to grow
+old." This thought sustained her. Yet the ceaseless anxiety and
+sleepless nights exhausted her strength. Her cheeks grew hollow, dark
+circles surrounded her eyes, but she did not heed it.
+
+"I still please my husband!" she said smiling, in reply to all
+entreaties to spare herself on account of her altered appearance.
+
+"My dove!" Freyer said one evening, when Ludwig came for the
+night-watch: "Now I must show a husband's authority and command you to
+take some rest, you cannot go on in this way."
+
+"Oh! never mind me--if I should die for you, what would it matter?
+Would it not be a just atonement?"
+
+"No--that would be no atonement," he said tenderly, pushing back the
+light fringe of curls that shaded her brow, as if he wished to read her
+thoughts on it: "My child, you must _live_ for me--that is your
+atonement. Do you think you would do anything good if you expiated your
+fault by death and said: 'There you have my life for yours, now we are
+quits, you have no farther claim upon me!' Would that be love, my
+dove?"
+
+He drew her gently toward him: "Or would you prefer that we should be
+quits _thus_, and that I should desire no other expiation from you than
+your death?" She threw her arms around him, clasping him in a closer
+and closer embrace. There was no need of speech, the happy, blissful
+throbbing of her heart gave sufficient answer. He kissed her on the
+forehead: "Now sleep, beloved wife and rest--do it for my sake, that I
+may have a fresh, happy wife!"
+
+She rose as obediently as a child, but it was hard for her, and she
+nodded longingly from the door as if a boundless, hopeless distance
+already divided them.
+
+"Ludwig!" said Freyer, gazing after her in delight: "Ludwig, _is_ this
+love?"
+
+"Yes, by Heaven!" replied his friend, deeply moved: "Happy man, I would
+bear all your sorrows--for one hour like this!"
+
+"Have you now forgiven what she did to me?"
+
+"Yes, from my very soul!"
+
+"Magdalena," cried Freyer. "Come in again--you must know it before you
+sleep--Ludwig is reconciled to you."
+
+"Ludwig," said the countess: "my strict, noble friend, I thank you."
+
+Leading him to the invalid, she placed their hands together. "Now we
+are again united, and everything is just as it was ten years ago--only
+I have become a different person, and a new and higher life is
+beginning for me."
+
+She pressed a kiss upon the brow of her husband and friend, as if to
+seal a vow, then left them alone.
+
+"Oh, Ludwig, if I could see you so happy!"
+
+"Do not be troubled--whoever has experienced this hour with you, needs
+nothing for himself," he answered, an expression of the loftiest, most
+unselfish joy on his pallid face.
+
+The countess, before retiring, sent for Martin who was still in
+Oberammergau, awaiting her orders, and went out into the garden that
+Freyer might not hear them talking in the next room. "Martin," she said
+with quiet dignity, though there was a slight tremor in her voice, "it
+is time for me to give some thought to worldly matters. During the last
+few days I could do nothing but devote myself to the sick bed. Drive
+home, my good Martin, and give the carriage and horses to the
+Wildenaus. Tell them what has happened, if they do not yet know it, I
+cannot write now. Meanwhile, you faithful old servant, tell them to
+take all I have--my jewels, my palace, my whole private fortune. Only I
+should like--for the sake of my sick husband--to have them leave me,
+for humanity's sake, enough to get him what he needs for his recovery!"
+here her voice failed.
+
+"Countess--"
+
+"Oh, don't call me that!"
+
+"Yes--for the countess will always be what she is, even as Herr
+Freyer's wife! I only wanted to say. Your Highness, that I wouldn't do
+that. If I were you, I wouldn't give _them_ a single kind word. I'll
+take back the carriage and horses and say that they can have everything
+which belongs to you. But I won't beg for my Countess! I think it would
+be less disgrace if you should condescend to accept something from a
+plain man like myself, who would consider it an honor and whom you
+needn't thank! I--" he laughed awkwardly: "I only want to say, if you
+won't take offence--that I bargained for a little house to-day. But I
+did it in your name, so that Your Highness needn't be ashamed to live
+with me! I haven't any kith and kin and--and it will belong to you."
+
+"Martin, Martin!" the proud woman humbly bent her head. "Be it so! You
+shall help me, if all else abandons me. I will accept it as a loan from
+you. I can paint--I will try to earn something, perhaps from one of the
+fashion journals, to which I have always subscribed. The maid once told
+me I might earn my living by it--it was a prophecy! So I can, God
+willing, repay you at some future day."
+
+"Oh, we won't talk about that!" cried Martin joyously, kissing the
+countess' hands.
+
+"If I may have a little room under the roof for myself--we'll call it
+the interest. And I have something to spare besides, for--you must eat,
+too."
+
+The countess covered her face with her trembling hands.
+
+"Now I'll drive home and in Your Highness' name throw carriage, horses,
+and all the rest of the rubbish at the Wildenaus' feet--then I'll come
+back and bring something nice for our invalid which can't be had
+here--and my livery, for Sundays and holidays, so that we can make a
+good appearance! And I'll look after the garden and house, and--do
+whatever else you need. Oh, I've never been so happy in my life!"
+
+He left her, and the countess stood gazing after him a long time,
+deeply shamed by the simple fidelity of the old man, who wished to wear
+her livery and be her servant, while he was really her benefactor: In
+truth--high or low--human nature is common to all. Martin returned:
+"Doesn't Your Highness wish to bid farewell to the horses? Shan't I
+drive past, or will it make you feel too badly?"
+
+"Beautiful creatures," a tone of melancholy echoed in her voice as she
+spoke: "No, Martin, I don't want to see them again."
+
+"Yes, yes--!" Martin had understood her, and pitied her more than for
+anything else, for it seemed to him the hardest of sacrifices to part
+with such beautiful horses.
+
+The countess remained alone in the little garden. The stars were
+shining above her head. She thought of the diamond stars which she had
+once flung to Freyer in false atonement, to place in the dead child's
+coffin--if she had them now to use their value to support her sick
+husband--_that_ would be the fitting atonement.
+
+"Only do not let _him_ starve, oh, God! If I were forced to see him
+starve! Oh, God!--spare me that, if it can be!" she prayed, her eyes
+uplifted with anxious care to the glittering star-strewn vault.
+
+"How is he?" a woman's figure suddenly emerged from the shadow at her
+side.
+
+"Oh, Mary--Anastasia!"
+
+"How is he?"
+
+"Better, I think! He was very cheerful this evening!--"
+
+"And you, Frau Freyer--how is it with you? It is hard, is it not? There
+are things to which we must become accustomed."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I can understand. But do not lose confidence--God is always with us.
+And--I will pray to the Virgin Mary, whom I have so often personated!
+But if there is need of anything where _human power_ can aid, I may
+help, may I not?"
+
+"Mary--angel, be my teacher--sister!"
+
+"No, _mother_!" said Anastasia smiling: "For if Freyer is my son, you
+must be my daughter. Oh, you two poor hearts, I am and shall now remain
+your mother, Mary!"
+
+"Mother Mary!"--the countess repeated, and the two women held each
+other in a loving embrace.----
+
+The week was drawing to a close, and the burgomaster was now obliged to
+consider the question of the distribution of parts. He found the
+patient out of bed and wearing a very cheerful, hopeful expression.
+
+"I don't know, Herr Freyer, whether I can venture to discuss my
+important business with you," he began timidly.
+
+"Oh--I understand--you wish to know when I can play again? Next
+Sunday."
+
+"You are not in earnest?" said the burgomaster, almost startled.
+
+"Not in earnest? Herr Burgomaster, what would be the value of all my
+oaths, if I should now retreat like a coward? Do you think I would
+break my word to you a second time, so long as I had breath in my
+body?"
+
+"Certainly not, so long as it is in your power to hold out. But this
+time you _cannot_! Ask the doctor--he will not allow it so soon."
+
+"Am I to ask _him_, when the question concerns the most sacred duty? I
+will consult him about my life--but my duties are more than my life.
+Only thus can I atone for the old sin which ten years ago made me a
+renegade."
+
+"And you say this now--when you are so happy?"
+
+"Herr Burgomaster," replied Freyer with lofty serenity: "A man who has
+once been so happy and so miserable as I, learns to view life from a
+different standpoint! No joy enraptures, no misfortune terrifies him.
+Everything to which we give these names is fluctuating, and only _one_
+happiness is certain: to do one's duty--until death!"
+
+"Herr Freyer! That is a noble thought, but if your wife should hear
+it--would she agree?"
+
+"Surely, for she thinks as I do--if she did not, we should never have
+been united--she would never have cast aside wealth, rank, power, and
+all worldly advantages to live with me in exile. Do you believe she did
+so for any earthly cause? She thinks so--but I know better: The cross
+allured her--as it does all who come in contact with it."
+
+"What are you saying about the cross?" asked the countess, entering the
+room: "Good-morning, Friend Burgomaster!"
+
+"My wife! He will not believe that you would permit me to play the
+Christus again--even should it cost my life?"
+
+The countess turned pale with terror. "Oh, Heaven, are you thinking of
+doing so?"
+
+"Yes"--replied the burgomaster: "He will not be dissuaded from it!"
+
+"Joseph!" said the countess mournfully: "Will you inflict this grief
+upon me--now, when you have scarcely recovered?"
+
+"I assure you that I have played the Christus when I felt far worse
+than I do now--thanks to your self-sacrificing care, dear wife."
+
+Tears filled the countess' eyes, and she remained silent.
+
+"My dove, do we not understand each other?"
+
+"Yes "--she said after a long, silent struggle: "Do it, my beloved
+husband--give yourself to God, as I resign you to Him. He has only
+loaned you to me, I dare not keep you from Him, if He desires to show
+Himself again to the world in your form! I will cherish and tend and
+watch over you, that you may endure it! And when you are taken down
+from the cross, I will rub your strained limbs and bedew your burning
+brow with the tears of all the sorrows Mary and Magdalene suffered for
+the Crucified One, and--when you have rested and again raise your eyes
+to mine with a smile, I will rest your head upon my breast in the
+blissful feeling that you are no God Who will ascend to Heaven--but a
+man, a tender, beloved man, and--_my own_. Oh, God cannot destroy such
+happiness, and if He does, He will only draw you to Himself, that I may
+therefore long the more fervently for you, for Him, Who is the source
+of _all_ love--then--" her voice was stifled by tears as she laid her
+head on his breast--"then your wife will not murmur, but wait silently
+and patiently till she can follow you." Leaning on his breast, she wept
+softly, clasping him in her arms that he might not be torn from her.
+
+"Dear wife," he answered gently, and the wonderfully musical voice
+trembled with the most sacred emotion, "we will accept whatever God
+sends--loyal to the cross--you and I, beloved, high-hearted woman! Do
+not weep, my dove! Being loyal to the cross does not mean only to be
+patient--it means also to be strong! Does not the soldier go bravely to
+death for an earthly king, and should not I joyfully peril my life for
+my _God_?"
+
+"Yes, my husband you are right, I will be strong. Go, then, holy
+warrior, into the battle for the ideal and put yourself at the disposal
+of your brave fellow combatants!" She slowly withdrew her arms from his
+neck as if taking a long, reluctant farewell.
+
+The burgomaster resolutely approached. "We people of Ammergau must bow
+to this sacred zeal. This is indeed a grandeur which conquers death!
+Whoever sees this effect of our modest Play on souls like yours cannot
+be mistaken in believing that the power which works such miracles does
+not emanate from men, and must proceed from a God. But as He is a God
+of love. He will not accept your sacrifice. Freyer must not take the
+part which might cost him his life. We will find a Christus elsewhere
+and thus manage for this time."
+
+Freyer fixed his eyes mournfully on the ground. "Now the crown has
+indeed fallen from my head! God has no longer accepted me--I am shut
+out from the sacred work!"
+
+The burgomaster placed his wife in his arms: "Let it be your task now
+to guard this soul and lead it to its destination--this, too, is a
+sacred work!"
+
+"Yes, and amen!" said Freyer.
+
+                               *   *   *
+
+The ex-countess and the former Christus, both divested of their
+temporary dignity, verified his words, attaining in humility true
+dignity! Freyer rallied under the care of his beloved wife, and they
+used the respite allotted to them by leading a life filled with labor,
+sacrifice, and gratitude toward God.
+
+"You ask me, dear friend," the countess wrote a year later to the Duke
+of Barnheim, "whether you can assist me in any way? I thank you for the
+loyal friendship, but must decline the noble offer. Contentment does
+not depend upon what we have, but what we need, and I have that, for my
+wants are few. This is because I have obtained blessings, which
+formerly I never possessed and which render me independent of
+everything else. Much as God has taken from me. He has bestowed in
+exchange three precious gifts: contempt for the vanities of the world,
+appreciation of the little pleasures of life, and recognition of the
+real worth of human beings. I am not even so poor as you imagine. My
+faithful old Martin, who will never leave me, helped me out of the
+first necessity. Afterwards the Wildenaus' were induced to give up my
+private property, jewels, dresses, and works of art, and their value
+proved sufficient to pay Martin for the little house he had purchased
+for me and to establish for my husband a small shop for the sale of
+wood-carving, so that he need not be dependent upon others. When he
+works industriously--which he is only too anxious to do at the cost of
+his delicate health--we can live without anxiety, though, of course,
+very simply. I know how many of my former acquaintances would shudder
+at the thought of such a prosaic existence! To them I would say that I
+have learned not to seek poetry in life, but to place it there. Yes,
+tell the mocking world that Countess Wildenau lives by her husband's
+labor and is not ashamed of it! My friend! To throw away a fortune for
+love of a woman is nothing--but to toil year in and year out, with
+tireless fidelity and sacrifice, to earn a wife's daily bread in the
+sweat of one's brow, _is_ something! Do you know what it is to a woman
+to owe her life daily to her beloved husband? An indescribable
+happiness! You, my friend, would have bestowed a principality upon me,
+and I should have accepted it as my rightful tribute, without owing you
+any special gratitude--but the hand which _toils_ for me I kiss every
+evening with a thrill of grateful reverence.
+
+"So do not grieve for me! Wed the lovable and charming Princess Amalie
+of whom you wrote, and should you ever come with your young wife into
+the vicinity of the little house surrounded by rustling firs, under the
+shadow of the Kofel, I should be cordially glad to welcome you.
+
+"Farewell! May you be as happy, my noble friend, as you deserve, and
+leave to me my poverty and my _wealth_. You see that the phantom has
+become reality--the ideal is attained.
+
+                       "Your old friend
+
+                                         "Magdalena Freyer."
+
+When the duke received this letter his valet saw him, for the first
+time in his life, weep bitterly.
+
+
+
+
+                              CONCLUSION.
+
+                        FROM ILLUSION TO TRUTH.
+
+
+For ten years God granted the loving wife her husband's life, it seemed
+as if he had entirely recovered. At last the day came when He required
+it again. For the third time the community offered Freyer the part of
+the Christus. He was still a handsome man, and spite of his forty-eight
+years, as slender as a youth, while his spiritual expression, chaste
+and lofty--rendered him more than ever an ideal representative of
+Christ God bestowed upon him the full cup of the perfection of his
+destiny, and it was completed as he had longed. Not on a sick-bed
+succumbing to lingering disease--but high on the cross, as victor over
+pain and death. God had granted him the grace of at last completing the
+task--he had held out this time until the final performance--then, when
+they took him down from the cross for the last time under the falling
+leaves, amid the first snow of the late autumn--he did not wake again.
+On the cross the noble heart had ceased to beat, he had entered
+into the peace of Him Whom he personated--passed from illusion to
+truth--from the _copy_ to the _prototype_.
+
+Never did mortal die a happier death, never did a more beautiful smile
+of contentment rest upon the face of a corpse.
+
+"It is finished! You have done in your way what your model did in His,
+you have sealed the sacred lesson of love by your death, my husband!"
+said the pallid woman who pressed the last kiss upon his lips.
+
+The semblance had become reality, and Mary Magdalene was weeping beside
+her Redeemer's corpse.
+
+On the third day after the crucifixion, when the true Christ had risen,
+Freyer was borne to his grave.
+
+But, like the ph[oe]nix from its ashes, on that day the real Christ
+rose from the humble sepulchre for the penitent.
+
+"When wilt thou appear to me in the spring garden, Redeeming Love?" she
+had once asked. Now she was--in the autumn garden--beside the grave of
+all happiness.
+
+When the coffin had been lowered and the pall-bearers approached the
+worn, drooping widow, the burgomaster asked: "Where do you intend to
+live now, Madame?"
+
+"Where, except in Ammergau, here--where his foot has marked for me the
+path to God? Oh, my Gethsemane!"
+
+"But," said the pastor, "will you exile yourself forever in this quiet
+village? Do you not wish to return to your own circle and the world of
+culture? You have surely atoned sufficiently."
+
+"Atoned? No, your Reverence, not atoned, for the _highest happiness_ is
+no atonement--expiation is beginning _now_." She turned toward the
+Christ which hung on the wall of the church, not far from the grave,
+and extending her arms toward it murmured: "Now I have _nothing_ save
+_Thee_! Thou hast conquered--idea of Christianity, thy power is
+eternal!"----
+
+The cloud of tears hung heavily over Ammergau, falling from time to
+time in damp showers.
+
+Evening had closed in. Through the lighted windows of the ground floor
+of a little house, surrounded by rustling pines, two women were
+visible, Mary and Magdalena. The latter was kneeling before the
+"Mother" whose clasped hands were laid upon her head in comfort and
+benediction.
+
+The lamps in the low-roofed houses of the village were gradually
+lighted. The peasants again sat in their ragged blouses on the carvers'
+benches, toiling, sacrificing, and bearing their lot of poverty and
+humility, proud in the consciousness that every ten years there will be
+a return of the moment which strips off the yoke and lays the purple on
+their shoulders, the moment when in their midst the miracle is again
+performed which spreads victoriously throughout a penitent world--the
+moment which brings to weary, despairing humanity peace and
+atonement--_on the cross_.
+
+
+
+                               FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: "Chips from a German Workshop." Vol. I. "Essays on the
+Science of Religion."]
+
+[Footnote 2: A dish made of flour and water fried in hot lard, but so
+soft that it is necessary to serve and eat it with a spoon.]
+
+[Footnote 3: A drama. Hamerling is better known in America as the
+author of his famous novel "Aspasia."]
+
+[Footnote 4: Part of these lines of Caedmon were put into modern
+English by Robert Spence Watson.]
+
+[Footnote 5: Frey is the god of peace. When its Mythological
+significance was lost, it became an epithet of honor for princes and is
+found frequently applied to our Lord and God the Father.]
+
+
+
+                                THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Cross, by Wilhelmine von Hillern
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+<title>On the Cross: A Romance of the Passion Play at Oberamergau.</title>
+<meta name="Author" content="Wilhelmine von Hillern">
+<meta name="Publisher" content="Drexel Biddle">
+<meta name="Date" content="1902">
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Cross, by Wilhelmine von Hillern
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: On the Cross
+       A Romance of the Passion Play at Oberammergau
+
+Author: Wilhelmine von Hillern
+
+Translator: Mary J. Safford
+
+Release Date: July 15, 2011 [EBook #36725]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE CROSS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Note:<br>
+<br>
+1. Page scan source:<br>
+http://www.archive.org/details/oncrossaromance00saffgoog</p>
+
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p class="center"> <img src="images/p339.png" alt="page 339"><br>&quot;<i>Accursed be the hour I raised you from the dust to my<br>
+side</i>.&quot;--Page 339.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>ON THE CROSS</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4>A<br>
+Romance of the Passion Play at<br>
+Oberammergau</h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h5>BY</h5>
+<h3><span class="sc">Wilhelmine von Hillern</span></h3>
+<h5>AND</h5>
+<h3><span class="sc">Mary J. Safford</span></h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>DREXEL BIDDLE, PUBLISHER</h2>
+<h3>PHILADELPHIA</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h5>Copyright, 1902</h5>
+
+<h5>BY</h5>
+
+<h4>ANTHONY J. DREXEL BIDDLE.</h4>
+
+<hr class="W10">
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h5>PRESS OF DREXEL BIDDLE, PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A.</h5>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4>TO</h4>
+
+<h3>HERR JOHANNES DIEMER,</h3>
+
+<h4>THE RENOWNED DELIVERER OF THE PROLOGUE IN THE PASSION PLAYS<br>
+OF THE LAST DECADE, A TRUE SON OF AMMERGAU, IN WHOSE<br>
+UNASSUMING PERSON DWELLS THE CALM, DEEP SOUL OF<br>
+THE ARTIST, THE LOYAL SYMPATHIZING FRIEND, IN<br>
+WHOSE PEACEFUL HOME I FOUND THE QUIET<br>
+AND THE MOOD I NEEDED TO COMPLETE<br>
+THIS WORK, IT IS NOW DEDICATED,<br>
+WITH GRATEFUL ESTEEM, BY</h4>
+
+<p style="text-indent:60%"><b>THE AUTHORESS.</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_00" href="#div1_00"><span class="sc">
+Introduction.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01"><span class="sc">A
+Phantom.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02"><span class="sc">Old
+Ammergau.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03"><span class="sc">Young
+Ammergau.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04"><span class="sc">
+Expelled from the Play.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05"><span class="sc">Modern
+Pilgrims.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06"><span class="sc">The
+Evening Before the Play.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07"><span class="sc">The
+Passion Play.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08"><span class="sc">
+Freyer.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09"><span class="sc">Signs
+and Wonders.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10"><span class="sc">In the
+Early Morning.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11"><span class="sc">Mary
+and Magdalene.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12"><span class="sc">Bridal
+Torches.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13"><span class="sc">
+Banished from Eden.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14"><span class="sc">Pieta.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15"><span class="sc">The
+Crowing of the Cock.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16"><span class="sc">
+Prisoned.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17"><span class="sc">Flying
+from the Cross.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18"><span class="sc">The
+Marriage.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19"><span class="sc">At the
+Child's Bedside.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20"><span class="sc">
+Conflicts.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21"><span class="sc">
+Unaccountable.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22"><span class="sc">
+Falling Stars.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23"><span class="sc">Noli
+me Tangere.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24"><span class="sc">
+Attempts to Rescue.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXV.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_25" href="#div1_25"><span class="sc">Day is
+Dawning.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_26" href="#div1_26"><span class="sc">The
+Last Support.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_27" href="#div1_27"><span class="sc">
+Between Poverty and Disgrace.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_28" href="#div1_28"><span class="sc">
+Parting.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_29" href="#div1_29"><span class="sc">In the
+Deserted House.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXX.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_30" href="#div1_30"><span class="sc">The
+&quot;Wiesherrle.&quot;</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_31" href="#div1_31"><span class="sc">The
+Return Home.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_32" href="#div1_32"><span class="sc">To the
+Village.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_33" href="#div1_33"><span class="sc">
+Received Again.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_34" href="#div1_34"><span class="sc">At
+Daisenberger's Grave.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXV.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_35" href="#div1_35"><span class="sc">The
+Watchword.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_36" href="#div1_36"><span class="sc">
+Memories.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_37" href="#div1_37"><span class="sc">The
+Measure is Full.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_38" href="#div1_38"><span class="sc">On the
+Way to the Cross.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_39" href="#div1_39"><span class="sc">
+Stations of Sorrow.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER XL.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_40" href="#div1_40"><span class="sc">Near
+the Goal.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CONCLUSION.</h3>
+
+<p class="continue"><a name="div1Ref_41" href="#div1_41"><span class="sc">From
+Illusion to Truth.</span></a></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_00" href="#div1Ref_00">INTRODUCTION.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p class="normal">It was in the Garden of Gethsemane that the risen Son of God
+showed
+Himself, as a simple gardener, to the penitent sinner. The miracle has
+become a pious tradition. It happened long, long ago, and no eye has
+ever beheld Him since. Even when the risen Lord walked among the men
+and women of His own day, only those saw Him who wished to do so.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But those who wish to see Him, see Him now; and those who wish to seek
+Him, find Him now.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Garden of Gethsemane has disappeared--the hot sun of the East has
+withered it. All things are subject to change. The surface of the earth
+alters and where the olive tree once grew green and the cedar stretched
+its leafy roof above the head of the Redeemer and the Penitent, there
+is nothing now save dead, withered leafage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the Garden blooms once more in a cool, shady valley among the
+German mountains. Modern Gethsemane bears the name of Oberammergau. As
+the sun pursues its course from East to West, so the salvation which
+came from the East has made its way across the earth to the West.
+There, in the veins of young and vigorous nations, still flow the
+living streams that water the seeds of faith on which the miracle is
+nourished, and the stunted mountain pine which has sprung from the hard
+rocks of the Ettal Mountain is transformed to a palm tree, the poor
+habitant of the little mountain village to a God. It is change, and yet
+constancy amid the change.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The world and its history also change in the passage of the centuries.
+The event before which the human race sank prostrate, as the guards
+once did when the risen Christ burst the gates of the tomb, gradually
+passed into partial oblivion. The thunder with which the veil of the
+temple was rent in twain died away in the misty distance; heaven closed
+forever behind the ascended Lord, the stars pursued their old courses
+in undisturbed regularity; revelations were silent. Men rubbed their
+eyes as though waking from a dream and began to discuss what portion
+was truth and what illusion. The strife lasted for centuries. One
+tradition overthrew another, one creed crowded out another. With sword
+in hand and the trumpet of the Judgment Day the <i>Ecclesia Militans</i>
+established the dogma, enforced unity in faith. But peace did not last
+long under the rule of the church. The Reformation again divided the
+Christian world, the Thirty Years War, the most terrible religious
+conflict the earth has ever witnessed began, and in the fury of the
+battle the combatants forgot the <i>cause</i> of the warfare. Amid the
+streams of blood, the clouds of smoke rising from burning cities and
+villages, the ruins of shattered altars, the cross, the holy emblem for
+which the battle raged, vanished, and when it was raised again, it was
+still but an emblem of warfare, no longer a symbol of peace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There is a single spot of earth where, untouched by the tumult of the
+world, sheltered behind the lofty, inhospitable wall of a high
+mountain, the idea of Christianity has been preserved in all its
+simplicity and purity--Oberammergau. As God once suffered the Saviour
+of the World to be born in a manger, among poor shepherds, He seems to
+have extended His protecting hand over this secluded nook and reserved
+the poor mountaineers to repeat the miracle. Concealed behind the steep
+Ettal mountain was a monastery where, from ancient times, the beautiful
+arts had been sedulously fostered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One of the monks was deeply grieved because, in the outside world,
+iconoclasm was rudely shaking the old forms and, in blind fear, even
+rejecting religious art as &quot;Romish.&quot; As no holy image would be
+tolerated; the Saviour and His Saints must disappear entirely from the
+eyes of men. Then, in his distress, the inspiration came that a sacred
+drama, performed by living beings, could produce a more powerful effect
+than word or symbol. So it was determined in the monastery that one
+should be enacted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The young people in the neighborhood, who had long been schooled by the
+influence of the learned monks to appreciate beauty, were soon trained
+to act legends and biblical poems. With increasing skill they gained
+more and more confidence, till at last their holy zeal led them to show
+mankind the Redeemer Himself, the Master of the world, in His own
+bodily form, saying to erring humanity; &quot;Lo, thus He was and thus He
+will be forever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And while in the churches paintings and relics were torn from the walls
+and crucifixes destroyed, the first Passion play was performed, A. D.
+1634, under the open sky in the churchyard of Oberammergau--for this
+spot, on account of its solemn associations, was deemed the fitting
+place for the holy work. The disgraced image of love, defiled by blood
+and flames, once more rose in its pure beauty! Living, breathing! The
+wounds inflicted more than a thousand years before again opened, fresh
+drops of blood trickled from the brow torn by its diadem of thorns,
+again the &quot;Continue ye in My love&quot; fell from the pallid lips of the
+Lamb of God, and what Puritanism had destroyed in its <i>dead</i> form was
+born anew in a <i>living one</i>. But, amid the confusion and roar of
+battle, the furious yells of hate, no one heard the gentle voice in the
+distant nook beyond the mountains.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The message of peace died away, the Crucified One shed His blood
+unseen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Years passed, the misery of the people constantly increased, lands were
+ravaged, the ranks of the combatants thinned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last the warriors began to be paralyzed, the raging storm subsided
+and pallid fear stared blankly at the foes who had at last gained their
+senses--the plague, that terrible Egyptian Sphinx, lured by the odor of
+corruption emanating from the long war, stole over the earth, and those
+at whom she gazed with the black fiery eyes of her torrid zone, sank
+beneath it like the scorched grass when the simoom sweeps over the
+desert.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Silence fell, the silence of the grave, for wherever this spectre
+stalks, death follows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Fear reconciled enemies and made them forget their rancor in union
+against the common foe, the cruel, invincible plague. They gazed around
+them for some helping hand, and once more turned to that over which
+they had so long quarrelled. Then amid the deathlike stillness of the
+barren fields, the empty houses, the denuded churches, and the
+desolated land, they at last heard the little bell behind the Ettal
+mountain, which every decade summoned the Christian world to the
+Passion Play, for this was the vow taken by the Ammergau peasants to
+avert the plague and the divine wrath. Again the ever patient Saviour
+extended His arms, crying: &quot;Come unto Me, all ye who are weary and
+heavy laden!&quot; And they did come. They threw themselves at His feet, the
+wearied, hunted earthlings, stained with dust and blood, and He
+comforted and refreshed them, while they again recognized Him and
+learned to understand the meaning of His sacrifice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Those who thus saw Him and received the revelation announced it to
+others, who flocked thither from far and near till the little
+church-yard of Oberammergau became too narrow, and could no longer
+contain the throngs; the open fields became a sacred theatre to receive
+the pilgrims, who longed to behold the Redeemer's face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And, strangely enough, all who took part in the sacred play, seemed
+consecrated, the plague passed them by, Ammergau alone was spared.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So the pious seed grew slowly, often with periods when it stood still,
+but the watchful eye can follow it in history.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Peace at last came to the world. Purer airs blew. The Egyptian hyena,
+satiated, left the ravaged fields, new life bloomed from the graves,
+and this new life knew naught of the pangs and sufferings of the old.
+From the brutality and corruption of the long war, the new generation
+longed for more refined manners, culture, and the pleasures of life.
+But, as usual after such periods of deprivation and calamity, one
+extreme followed another. The desire for more refined manners and
+education led to hyperculture, the love of pleasure into epicureanism
+and luxury, grace into coquetry, mirth into frivolity. Then came the
+so-called age of gallantry. The foil took the place of the sword, the
+lace jabot of the leather jerkin, the smoke of battle gave way to the
+clouds of powder scattered by heads nodding in every direction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Masked shepherds and shepherdesses danced upon the graves of a former
+generation, a new Arcadia was created in apish imitation and peopled
+with grimacing creatures who tripped about on tiptoe in their
+high-heeled shoes. Instead of the mediæval representations of martyrs
+and emaciated saints appeared the nude gods and cupids of a Watteau and
+his school. Grace took the place of majesty. Instead of moral law, men
+followed the easy code of convenience and everything was allowable
+which did not transgress its rules. Thus arose a generation of
+thoughtless pleasure seekers, which bore within itself a moral
+pestilence that, in contrast with the &quot;Black Death,&quot; might be termed
+the &quot;Rosy Death&quot; for it breathed upon the cheeks of all whom it
+attacked the rosy flush of a fever which wasted more slowly, but none
+the less surely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And through this rouged, dancing, skipping age, with the click of its
+high-heeled shoes, its rustling hooped petticoats, its amorous glances
+and heaving bosoms, the chaste figure of the Man of Sorrows, with a
+terrible solemnity upon his pallid brow, again and again trod the stage
+of Ammergau, and whoever beheld Him dropped the flowing bowl of
+pleasure, while the laugh died on his lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again history and the judgment of the world moved forward. The &quot;Rosy
+Death&quot; had decomposed and poisoned all the healthful juices of society
+and corrupted the very heart of the human race--morality, faith, and
+philosophy, everything which makes men manly, had gradually perished
+unobserved in the thoughtless whirl. The tinsel and apish civilisation
+no longer sufficed to conceal the brute in human nature. It shook off
+every veil and stood forth in all its nakedness. The modern deluge, the
+French Revolution burst forth. Murder, anarchy, the delirium of fever
+swept over the earth in every form of horror.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again came a change, a transformation to the lowest depths of
+corruption. Grace now yielded to brutality, beauty to ugliness, the
+divine to the cynical. Altars were overthrown, religion was abjured,
+the earth trembled under the mass of destroyed traditions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But from the turmoil of the throng, fiercely rending one another, from
+the smoke and exhalations of this conflagration of the world, yonder in
+the German Garden of Gethsemane again rose victoriously, like a
+Ph&#339;nix from its ashes, the denied, rejected God, and the undefiled
+sun of Ammergau wove a halo of glory around the sublime figure which
+hung high on the cross.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was a quiet, victory, of which the frantic mob were ignorant; for
+they saw only the foe confronting them, not the one battling above. The
+latter was vanquished long ago, He was deposed, and that settled the
+matter. The people in their sovereignty can depose and set up gods at
+pleasure, and when once dethroned, they no longer exist; they are
+hurled into Tartarus. And as men can not do without a god, they create
+an idol.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The country groaned beneath the iron stride of the Emperor and, without
+wishing or knowing it, he became the avenger of the God in whose place
+he stood. For, as the Thirty Years War ended under the scourge of the
+pestilence, and the age of mirth and gallantry under the lash of
+the Revolution, the Revolution yielded to the third scourge, the
+self-created idol!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He, the man with compressed lips and brow sombre with thought, ruled
+the unchained elements, became lord of the anarchy, and dictated laws
+to a universe. But with iron finger he tore open the veins of humanity
+to mark upon the race the brand of slavery. The world bled from a
+thousand wounds, and upon each he marked the name &quot;Napoleon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then, wan as the moon floats in the sky when the glow of the setting
+sun is blazing in the horizon, the sovereign of the world in his bloody
+splendor confronted the pallid shadow of the Crucified One, also robed
+in a royal mantle, still wet with the blood He had voluntarily shed.
+They gazed silently at each other--but the usurper turned pale.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last, at the moment he imagined himself most like Him, God hurled
+the rival god into the deepest misery and disgrace. The enemy of the
+world was conquered, and popular hatred, so long repressed, at last
+freed from the unbearable restraint, poured forth upon the lonely grave
+at St. Helena its foam of execration and curses. Then the conqueror in
+Oberammergau extended His arms in pardon, saying to him also: &quot;Verily I
+say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A time of peace now dawned, the century of <i>thought</i>. After the great
+exertions of the war of liberation, a truce in political life followed,
+and the nations used it to make up for what they had lost in the
+development of civilization during the period of political strife. A
+flood of ideas inundated the world. All talent, rejoicing in the mental
+activity which had so long lain dormant, was astir. There was rivalry
+and conflict for the prize in every department. The rising generation,
+conscious of newly awakening powers, dared enterprise after enterprise
+and with each waxed greater. With increasing production, the power of
+assimilation also increased. Everything grand created in other
+centuries was drawn into the circle of their own nation as if just
+discovered. That for which the enlightened minds of earlier days had
+vainly toiled, striven, bled, now bloomed in luxuriant harvests, and
+the century erected monuments to those who had been misjudged and
+adorned them with the harvest garland garnered from the seeds which
+they had sowed in tears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What Galvani and Salomon de Cäus, misunderstood and unheard, had
+planned, now made their triumphal passage across the earth as a panting
+steam engine or a flashing messenger of light, borne by and bearing
+ideas.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The century which produced a Schiller and a Goethe first understood a
+Shakespeare, Sophocles and Euripides rose from the graves where they
+had lain more than a thousand years, archæology brought the buried
+world of Homer from beneath the earth, a Canova, a Thorwaldsen, a
+Cornelius, Kaulbach, and all the great masters of the Renaissance of
+our time, took up the brushes and chisels of Phidias, Michael Angelo,
+Raphael, and Rubens, which had so long lain idle. What Aristotle had
+taught a thousand, and Winckelmann and Lessing a hundred years before,
+the knowledge of the laws of art, the appreciation of the beautiful,
+was no longer mere dead capital in the hands of learned men, but
+circulated in the throbbing veins of a vigorously developing
+civilization; it demanded and obtained the highest goal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The circle between the old and the new civilization has closed, every
+chasm has been bridged. There is an alternate action of old and new
+forces, a common labor of all the nations and the ages, as if there was
+no longer any division of time and space, as if there was but one
+eternal art, one eternal science. Ascending humanity has trodden matter
+under foot, conquered science, made manufactures useful, and
+transfigured art.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But this light which has so suddenly flamed through the world also
+casts its shadows. Progress in art and science matures the judgment,
+but judgment becomes criticism and criticism negation. The dualism
+which permeates all creation, the creative and the destructive power,
+the principle of affirmation and of denial, cannot be shut out even
+now, but must continue the old contest which has never yet been
+decided. Critical analysis opposes faith, materialism wars against
+idealism, pessimism contends with optimism. The human race has reached
+the outermost limit of knowledge, but this does not content it in its
+victorious career, it wishes to break through and discover <i>the God</i>
+concealed behind. Even the heart of a God must not escape the scalpel
+which nothing withstood. But the barrier is impenetrable. And one
+party, weary of the fruitless toil, pulls back the aspiring ones.
+&quot;Down to matter, whence you came. What are you seeking? Science has
+attained the highest goal, she has discovered the protoplasm whence all
+organism proceeded. What is the Creator of modern times? A
+physiological--chemical, vital function within the substance of a cell.
+Will ye pray to this, suffer for this, ye fools?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Others turn in loathing from this cynical interpretation of scientific
+results and throw themselves into the arms of beauty, seeking in it the
+divinity, and others still wait, battling between earth and heaven, in
+the dim belief of being nearest to the goal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It is a tremendous struggle, as though the earth must burst under the
+enormous pressure of power demanding room, irreconcilable contrasts.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then amid the heat of the lecture rooms, the throng of students of art
+and science, comes a long-forgotten voice from the days of our
+childhood! And the straining eyes suddenly turn from the teachers and
+the dissecting tables, from the glittering visions of art and the
+material world to the stage of Oberammergau and the Passion Play.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There stands the unassuming figure with the crown of thorns and the
+sorrowful, questioning gaze. And with one accord their hearts rush to
+meet Him and, as the son who has grown rich in foreign lands, after
+having eaten and enjoyed everything, longs to return to the poverty of
+his home and falls repentantly at the feet of his forsaken father, the
+human race, in the midst of this intoxication of knowledge and
+pleasure, sinks sobbing before the pale flower of Christianity and
+longingly extends its arms toward the rude wooden cross on which it
+blooms!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That powerful thinker, Max Müller, says in his comparative study of
+religions:<a name="div2Ref_01" href="#div2_01"><sup>[1]</sup></a> &quot;When do we
+feel the blessings of our country more warmly
+and truly than when we return from abroad? It is the same with regard
+to religion.&quot; That fact is apparent here! It is an indisputable verity
+that, at the precise period when art and science have attained their
+highest stages of development, the Oberammergau Passion Play enjoys a
+degree of appreciation never bestowed before, that during this critical
+age, from decade to decade, people flock to the Passion Play in ever
+increasing throngs. Not only the uncultivated and ignorant, nay, the
+most cultured--artists and scholars, statesmen and monarchs. The poor
+village no longer has room to shelter all its guests; it is positively
+startling to see the flood of human beings pour in on the evening
+before the commencement of the play, stifling, inundating everything.
+And then it is marvellous to notice how quiet it is on the morning of
+the play, as it flows into the bare room called the theatre, how it
+seems as it were to grow calm, as if every storm within or without was
+subdued under the influence of those simple words, now more than two
+thousand years old. How wonderful it is to watch the people fairly
+holding their breath to listen to the simple drama for seven long hours
+without heeding the time which is far beyond the limit our easily
+wearied nerves are accustomed to bear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What is it, for whose sake the highest as well as the lowest, the
+richest and the poorest, prince and peasant, would sleep on a layer of
+straw, without a murmur, if no bed could be had? Why will the most
+pampered endure hunger and thirst, the most delicate heat and cold, the
+most timid fearlessly undertake the hard journey across the Ettal
+mountain? Is it mere curiosity to hear a number of poor wood-carvers,
+peasants, and wood-cutters repeat under the open sky, exposed to sun
+and rain, in worse German than is heard at school the same old story
+which has already been told a thousand times, as the enemies of the
+Passion Play say? Would this bring people every ten years from half the
+inhabited world, from far and near, from South and North, from the
+mountains and the valleys, from palaces and huts, across sea and land?
+Certainly not? What is it then? A miracle?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Whoever has seen the Passion Play understands it, but it is difficult
+to explain the mystery to those who have not.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The deity remains concealed from our earthly vision and unattainable,
+like the veiled statue of Sais. Every attempt to raise this veil by
+force is terribly avenged.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What is gained by those modern Socinians and Adorantes who, with
+ill-feigned piety, seek to drag the mystery to light and make the God a
+<i>human being</i>, in order to worship in the wretched puppet <i>themselves</i>?
+Even if they beheld Him face to face, they would still see themselves
+only, and He would cry: &quot;You are like the spirit which you understand,
+not me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And what do the Pantheists gain who make man <i>God</i>, in order to embrace
+in Him the unattainable? Sooner or later they will perceive that they
+have mistaken the <i>effects</i> for the <i>cause</i>, and the form for the
+essence. Loathing and disappointment will be their lot, as it is the
+lot of all who have nothing but--human beings.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But those to whom the visible is only the <i>symbol</i> of the <i>invisible</i>
+which teaches them from the effect to learn the cause, will, with
+unerring logical correctness, pass from the form to the essence, from
+the <i>illusion</i> to the <i>truth</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>That</i> is the marvel of the modern Gethsemane, which this book will
+narrate.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">CHAPTER I.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>A PHANTOM</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Solemn and lofty against the evening sky towers the Kofel, the
+land-mark and protecting rock-bulwark of Oberammergau, bearing aloft
+its solitary cross, like a threatening hand uplifted in menace to
+confront an advancing foe with the symbol of victory.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Twilight is gathering, and the dark shadow of the mighty protector
+stretches far across the quiet valley. The fading glow of sunset casts
+a pallid light upon the simple cross which has stood on the mountain
+peak for centuries, frequently renewed but always of the same size, so
+that it can be seen a long distance off by the throngs who journey
+upward from the valley, gazing longingly across the steep, inhospitable
+mountains toward the goal of the toilsome pilgrimage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It is Friday. A long line of carriages is winding like a huge serpent
+up the Ettal mountain. Amid the throng, two very handsome landaus are
+especially conspicuous. The first is drawn by four horses in costly
+harnesses adorned with a coronet, which prance gaily in the slow
+progress, as if the ascent of the Ettal mountain was but pastime for
+animals of their breed. In the equipage, which is open, sit a lady and
+a gentleman, pale, listless, uninterested in their surroundings and
+apparently in each other; the second one contains a maid, a man
+servant, and on the box the courier, with the pompous, official manner,
+which proclaims to the world that the family he has the honor of
+serving and in whose behalf he pays the highest prices, is an
+aristocratic one. The mistress of this elegant establishment, spite of
+her downcast eyes and almost lifeless air, is a woman of such
+remarkable beauty that it is apparent even amidst the confusion of
+veils and wraps. Blonde hair, as soft as silk, clusters in rings around
+her brow and diffuses a warm glow over a face white as a tea rose,
+intellectual, yet withal wonderfully, tender and sensuous in its
+outlines. Suddenly, as though curious to penetrate the drooping lids
+and see the eyes they concealed, the sun bursts through a rift in the
+clouds, throwing a golden bridge of rays from mountain to mountain. Now
+the lashes are raised to return the greeting, revealing sparkling dark
+eyes of a mysterious color, varying every instant as they follow the
+shimmering rays that glide along the cliff. Then something flashes from
+a half-concealed cave and the beams linger a moment on a pale face. It
+is an image of Christ carved in wood which, with uplifted hand, bids
+the new comers welcome. But those who are now arriving do not
+understand its language, the greeting remains unanswered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sunbeams glide farther on as if saying, &quot;If this is not the Christ
+you are seeking, perhaps it is he?&quot; And now--they stop. On a rugged
+peak, illumined by a halo of light, stands a figure, half concealed by
+the green branches, gazing with calm superiority at the motley, anxious
+crowd below. He has removed his hat and, heated by the rapid walk, is
+wiping the perspiration from his brow. Long black locks parted in the
+middle, float back from a grave, majestic face with a black beard and
+strangely mournful black, far-seeing eyes. The hair, tossed by the
+wind, is caught by a thorny branch which sways above the prematurely
+furrowed brow. The sharp points glow redly in the brilliant sunset
+light, as if crimsoned with blood from the head which rests dreamily
+against the trunk. A tremor runs through the form of the woman below;
+she suddenly sits erect, as though roused from sleep. The wandering
+rays which sought her eyes also lead her gaze to those of the solitary
+man above, and on this golden bridge two sparkling glances meet. Like
+two pedestrians who cannot avoid each other on a narrow path, they look
+and pause. They grasp and hold each other--one must yield, for neither
+will let the other pass.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then the sunbeam pales, the bridge has fallen, and the apparition
+vanishes in the forest shadows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you see that?&quot; the lady asked her companion, who had also glanced
+up at the cliff.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What should I have seen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why--that--that--&quot; she paused, uncertain what words to choose. She was
+going to say, &quot;that man up there,&quot; but the sentence is too prosaic, yet
+she can find no other and says merely, &quot;him up there!&quot; Her companion,
+glancing skyward, shakes his head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Him</i> up there! I really believe, Countess, that the air of Ammergau
+is beginning to affect you. Apparently you already have religious
+hallucinations--or we will say, in the language of this hallowed soil,
+heavenly visions!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess leans silently back in her corner--the cold, indifferent
+expression returns to the lips which just parted in so lovely a smile.
+&quot;But what did you see? At least tell me, since I am not fortunate
+enough to be granted such visions,&quot; her companion adds with kindly
+irony. &quot;Or was it too sublime to be communicated to such a base
+worldling as I?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; she says curtly, covering her eyes with her hand, as if to shut
+out the fading sunset glow in order to recall the vision more
+distinctly. Then she remains silent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Night gradually closes in, the panting train of horses has reached the
+village. Now the animals are urged into a trot and the drivers turn the
+solemn occasion into a noisy tumult. The vehicles jolt terribly in the
+ruts, the cracking of whips, the rattle of wheels, the screams of
+frightened children and poultry, the barking of dogs, blend in a
+confused din, and that nothing may be wanting to complete it, a howling
+gust of wind sweeps through the village, driving the drifting clouds
+into threatening masses.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This is all we lacked--rain too!&quot; grumbled the gentleman. &quot;Shall I
+have the carriage closed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; replied the Countess, opening her umbrella. &quot;Who would have
+thought it; the sun was shining ten minutes ago!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, the weather changes rapidly in the mountains. I saw the shower
+rising. While you were admiring some worthy wood-cutter up yonder as a
+heavenly apparition, I was watching the approaching tempest.&quot; He draws
+the travelling rug, which has slipped down, closer around the lady and
+himself. &quot;Come what may, I am resigned; when we are in Rome, we must
+follow the Roman customs. Who would not go through fire and water for
+you, Countess?&quot; He tries to take her hand, but cannot find it among the
+shawls and wraps. He bites his lips angrily; he had expected that the
+hand he sought would gratefully meet his in return for so graceful an
+expression of loyalty! Large drops of rain beat into his face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not even a clasp of the hand in return for the infernal journey to
+this peasant hole,&quot; he mutters.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The carriages thunder past the church, the flowers and crosses on the
+graves in the quiet church-yard tremble with the shaking of the ground.
+The lamps in the parsonage are already lighted, the priest comes to the
+window and gazes quietly at the familiar spectacle. &quot;Poor travellers!
+Out in such a storm!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One carriage after another turns down a street or stops before a house.
+The Countess and her companion alone have not yet reached their
+destination. Meantime it has grown perfectly dark. The driver is
+obliged to stop to shut up the carriage and light the lantern, for the
+rain and darkness have become so dense and the travellers are drenched.
+An icy wind, which always accompanies a thunderstorm in the mountain,
+blows into their faces till they can scarcely keep their eyes open. The
+servant, unable to see in the gloom, is clumsy in closing the carriage,
+the hand-bags fall down upon the occupants; the driver can scarcely
+hold the horses, which are frightened by the crowds in pursuit of
+lodgings. He is not familiar with the place and, struggling to restrain
+the plunging four-in-hand, enquires the way in broken sentences from
+the box, and only half catches the answers, which are indistinct in the
+tumult. Meantime the other servants have arrived. The Countess orders
+the courier to drive on with the second carriage and take possession of
+the rooms which have been engaged. The man, supposing it is an easy
+matter to find the way in so small a place, moves forward. The Countess
+can scarcely control her ill humor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;An abominable journey--the horses overheated by the ascent of the
+mountain and now this storm. And the lamps won't burn, the wind
+constantly blows them out. You were right, Prince, we ought to have
+taken a hired--&quot; She does not finish the sentence, for the ray
+from one of the carriage lamps, which has just been lighted with much
+difficulty, falls upon a swiftly passing figure, which looks almost
+supernaturally tall in the uncertain glimmer. Long, black locks,
+dripping with moisture, are blown by the wind from under his
+broad-brimmed hat. He has evidently been surprised by the storm without
+an umbrella and is hurrying home--not timidly and hastily, like a
+person to whom a few drops of rain, more or less, is of serious
+importance, but rather like one who does not wish to be accosted. The
+countess cannot see his face, he has already passed, but she
+distinguishes the outlines of the slender, commanding figure in the
+dark dress, noticing with a rapid glance the remarkably elastic gait,
+and an involuntary: &quot;There he goes again!&quot; escapes her lips aloud.
+Obeying a sudden impulse, she calls to the servant: &quot;Quick, ask the
+gentleman yonder the way to the house of Andreas Gross, where we are
+going.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The servant follows the retreating figure a few steps and shouts,
+&quot;Here, you--&quot; The stranger pauses a moment, half turns his head, then,
+as if the abrupt summons could not possibly be meant for <i>him</i>, moves
+proudly on without glancing back a second time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The servant timidly returns. A feeling of shame overwhelms the
+countess, as though she had committed the blunder of ordering him to
+address a person of high rank travelling incognito.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The gentleman wouldn't hear me,&quot; says the lackey apologetically, much
+abashed. &quot;Very well,&quot; his mistress answers, glad that the darkness
+conceals her blushes. A flash of lightning darts from the sky and a
+sudden peal of thunder frightens the horses. &quot;Drive on,&quot; the countess
+commands; the lackey springs on the box, the carriage rolls forward--a
+few yards further and the dark figure once more appears beside the
+vehicle, walking calmly on amid the thunder and lightning, and merely
+turns his head slightly toward the prancing horses.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The equipage dashes by--the countess leans silently back on the
+cushions, and shows no further desire to look out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tell me, Countess Madeleine,&quot; asks the gentleman whom she has just
+addressed as 'Prince,' &quot;what troubles you today?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess laughs. &quot;Dear me, how solemnly you put the question! What
+should trouble me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot understand you,&quot; the prince continued. &quot;You treat me coldly
+and grow enthusiastic over a vision of the imagination which already
+draws from you the exclamation: 'There he is <i>again!</i>' I cannot help
+thinking what an uncertain possession is the favor of a lady whose
+imagination kindles so easily.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This is charming,&quot; the countess tried to jest. &quot;My prince jealous--of
+a phantom?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is just it. If a <i>phantom</i> can produce such variations in the
+temperature of your heart toward me, how must my hopes stand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear Prince, you know that whether with or without a phantom, I could
+never yet answer this question which Your Highness frequently
+condescends to ask me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I believe, Countess, that one always stands between us! You pursue
+some unknown ideal which you do not find in me, the realist, who has
+nothing to offer you save prosaic facts--his hand, his principality,
+and an affection for which unhappily he lacks poetic phrases.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You exaggerate, Prince, and are growing severe. There is a touch of
+truth--I am always honest--yet, as you know, you are the most favored
+of all my suitors. Still it is true that an unknown disputes precedence
+with you. This rival is but the man of my imagination--but the world
+contains no one like my ideal, so you have nothing to fear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What ideal do you demand, Countess, that no one can attain it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! a very simple one, yet you conventional natures will never
+understand it. It is the simplicity of the lost Paradise to which you
+can never return. I am by nature a lover of the ideal--I am
+enthusiastic and need enthusiasm; but you call me a visionary when I am
+in the most sacred earnest. I yearn for a husband who believes in my
+ideal, I want no one from whom I must conceal it in order to avoid
+ridicule, and thus be unable to be true to my highest self. He whom my
+soul seeks must be at once a man and a child--a man in character and a
+child in heart. But where in our modern life is such a person to be
+found? Where is gentleness without feeble sentimentality? Where is
+there enthusiasm without fantastic vagueness, where simplicity of heart
+without narrowness of mind? Whoever possesses a manly character and a
+strong intellect cannot escape the demands which science and politics
+impose, and this detracts from the emotional life, gives prominent
+development to concrete thought, makes men realistic and critical. But
+of all who suffer from these defects of our time, you are the best,
+Prince!&quot; she adds, smilingly.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is sorry comfort,&quot; murmurs the prince. &quot;It is a peculiar thing to
+have an invisible rival; who will guarantee that some person may not
+appear who answers to the description?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is the reason I have not yet given you my consent,&quot; replies the
+countess, gravely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her companion sighs heavily, makes no reply, but gazes steadfastly into
+the raging storm. Alter a time he says, softly, &quot;If I did not love you
+so deeply, Countess Madeleine--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You would not bear with me so long, would you?&quot; asks the countess,
+holding out her hand as if beseeching pardon.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This one half unconscious expression of friendship disarms the
+irritated man.--He bends over the slender little hand and raises it
+tenderly to his lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She must yet be mine!&quot; he says under his breath, by way of
+consolation, like all men whose hopes are doubtful. &quot;I will even dare
+the battle with a phantom.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">CHAPTER II.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>OLD AMMERGAU</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">At last, alter a long circuit and many enquiries, the goal was
+gained.
+The dripping, sorely shaken equipage stopped with two wheels in a ditch
+filled with rain water, whose overflow flooded the path to the house.
+The courier and maid seemed to have missed their way, too, for the
+second carriage was not there. People hurried out of the low doorway
+shading small flickering candles with their hands. The countess shrank
+back. What strange faces these peasants had! An old man with a terribly
+hang-dog countenance, long grey hair, a pointed Jewish beard, sharp
+hooked nose, and sparkling eyes! And two elderly women, one short and
+fat, with prominent eyes and black curling hair, the other a tall,
+thin, odd-looking person with tangled coal-black hair, hooked nose, and
+glittering black eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the mysterious shadows cast by the wavering lights upon the sharply
+cut faces, the whole group looked startlingly like a band of gypsies.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! are these Ammergau people?&quot; whispered the countess in a
+disappointed tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Does Gross, the wood-carver, live here?&quot; the prince enquired.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; was the reply. &quot;Gross, the stone-cutter. Have you engaged rooms
+here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We wrote from Tegernsee for lodgings. The Countess von Wildenau,&quot;
+answered the prince.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh yes, yes! Everything is ready! The lady will lodge with us; the
+carriage and servants can go to the old post-house. I have the honor to
+bid you good evening,&quot; said the old man. &quot;I am sorry you have had such
+bad weather. But we have a great deal of rain here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince alighted--the water splashed high under his feet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh Sephi, bring a board, quick; the countess cannot get out here!&quot;
+cried the old man with eager deprecation of the discomfort threatening
+the lady. Sephi, the tall, thin woman, dragged a plank from the garden,
+while a one-eyed dog began to bark furiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The plank was laid down, but instantly sunk under the water, and the
+countess was obliged to wade through the flood. As she alighted, she
+felt as if she should strike her head against the edge of the
+overhanging roof--the house was so low. Fresco paintings, dark with
+age, appeared to stretch and writhe in distorted shapes in the
+flickering light. The place seemed more and more dismal to the
+countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Shall I carry you across?&quot; asked the prince.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh no!&quot; she answered reprovingly, while her little foot sought the
+bottom of the pool. The ice-cold water covered her delicate boot to the
+ankle. She had been so full of eager anticipation, in such a poetic
+mood, and prosaic reality dealt her a blow in the face. She shivered as
+she walked silently through the water.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come in, your rooms are ready,&quot; said the old man cheeringly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They passed through a kitchen black with myriads of flies, into an
+apartment formerly used as the workshop, now converted into a parlor.
+Two children were asleep on an old torn sofa. In one corner lay sacks
+of straw, prepared for couches, the owners of the house considered it a
+matter of course that they should have no beds during the Passion. A
+smoking kerosene lamp hung from, the dark worm-eaten wooden ceiling,
+diffusing more smoke than light. The room was so low that the countess
+could scarcely stand erect, and besides the ceiling had sunk--in the
+dim, smoke-laden atmosphere the beams threatened to fall at any moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A sense of suffocation oppressed the new-comer. She was utterly
+exhausted, chilled, nervous to the verge of weeping. Her white teeth
+chattered. She shivered with cold and discomfort. Her host opened a low
+door into a small room containing two beds, a table, an old-fashioned
+dark cupboard, and two chairs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There,&quot; he cried in a tone of great satisfaction, &quot;that is your
+chamber. Now you can rest, and if you want anything, you need only call
+and one of my daughters will come in and wait upon you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, my good fellow, but where am <i>I</i> to lodge?&quot; asked the prince.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh--then you don't belong together? In that case the countess must
+sleep with another lady, and the gentleman up here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He pointed to a little stair-case in the corner which, according to the
+custom in old peasant houses, led from one room through a trap-door
+into another directly above it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But I can't sleep <i>there</i>, it would inconvenience the lady,&quot; said the
+prince. &quot;Have you no other rooms?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why yes; but they are engaged for to-morrow,&quot; replied Andreas Gross,
+while the two sisters stood staring helplessly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then give me the rooms and send the other people away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! I can't do that, sir.--They are promised.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens! Ill pay you twice, ten times as much.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, sir, if you paid me twenty times the price, I could not do it; I
+must not break my promise!&quot; said the old man with gentle firmness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah,&quot; thought the prince, &quot;he wants to screw me--but I'll manage that,
+Countess, excuse me a few minutes while I look for another lodging.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For Heaven's sake, try to find one for me, too. I would rather spend
+the night in the carriage than stay here!&quot; replied the countess in
+French.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, it is horrible! but it will not be difficult to find something
+better. Good-bye!&quot; he answered in the same language.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't leave me alone with these people too long. Come back soon; I am
+afraid,&quot; she added, still using the French tongue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Really?&quot; the prince answered, laughing; but a ray of pleasure sparkled
+in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Meanwhile, the little girl who was asleep on the sofa had waked and now
+came into the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess requested every one to retire that she might rest, and the
+peasants modestly withdrew. But when she tried to fasten the door, it
+had neither lock nor bolt, only a little wire hook which slipped into a
+loose ring.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh!&quot; she exclaimed, startled. &quot;I cannot lock it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You need have no anxiety,&quot; replied the old man soothingly, &quot;we sleep
+in the next room.&quot; But the vicinity of those strange people, when she
+could not lock the door, was exactly what the countess feared.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She slipped the miserable wire hook into its fastening and sat down on
+one of the beds, which had no mattresses--nothing but sacking.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Covering her face with her hands, she gave free course to indignant
+tears. She still wore her hat and cloak, which she had not ventured to
+take off, from a vague feeling of being encompassed by perils whence
+she might need to fly at any moment. In such a situation, surely it was
+safer not to lay aside one's wraps. If the worst came, she would remain
+so all night. To go to bed in a house where the roof might fall and
+such strange figures were stealing about, was too great a risk. Beside
+the bed on which the countess sat was a door, which, amid all the
+terrors, she had not noticed. Now it seemed as though she heard a
+scraping noise like the filing of iron. Then came hollow blows and a
+peculiar rattling. Horrible, incomprehensible sounds! Now a blow fell
+upon the door, whose fastening was little better than the other. And
+now another.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The very powers of hell are let loose here,&quot; cried the countess,
+starting up. Her cold, wet feet seemed paralyzed, her senses were on
+the verge of failing. And she was alone in this terrible strait. Where
+were the servants? Perhaps they had been led astray, robbed and
+murdered--and meanwhile the storm outside was raging in all its fury.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There came another attempt to burst the door which, under two crashing
+blows, began to yield. The countess, as if in a dream, rushed to the
+workshop and, almost fainting, called to her aid the uncanny people
+there--one terror against another. With blanched lips she told them
+that some one had entered the house, that some madman or fugitive from
+justice was trying to get in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! that is nothing,&quot; said Andreas, with what seemed to the terrified
+woman a fiendish smile, and walking straight to the door, while the
+countess shrieked aloud, opened it, and--a head was thrust in. A mild,
+big, stupid face stared at the light with wondering eyes and snorted
+from wide pink nostrils at the strange surroundings. A bay horse--a
+good-natured cart horse occupied the next room to the Countess
+Wildenau!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You see the criminal. He is a cribber, that is the cause of the
+horrible noises you heard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The trembling woman stared at the mild, stupid equine face as though it
+was a heavenly vision--yet spite of her relief and much as she loved
+horses, she could not have gone to bed comfortably, since as the door
+was already half broken down by the elephantine hoofs of the worthy
+brute, there was a chance that during the night, lured by the aromatic
+odor of the sea-weed, which formed the stuffing of the bed, the bay
+might mistake the countess' couch for a manger and rouse her somewhat
+rudely with his snuffing muzzle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, we'll make that all right at once,&quot; said Andreas. &quot;We'll fasten
+him so that he can't get free again, and the carter comes at four in
+the morning, then you will not be disturbed any more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;After not having closed my eyes all night,&quot; murmured the countess,
+following the old man to see that he fastened the horse securely. Yes,
+the room which opened from here by a door with neither lock nor
+threshold was a stable. Several frightened hens flew from the
+straw--this, too. &quot;When the horse has left the stable the cocks will
+begin to crow. What a night after the fatigues of the day!&quot; The old man
+smiled with irritating superiority, and said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, that is the way in the country.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I won't stay here--I would rather spend the night in the carriage.
+How can people exist in this place, even for a day,&quot; thought the
+countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Won't you have something to eat? Shall my daughter make a
+schmarren?&quot;<a name="div2Ref_02" href="#div2_02"><sup>[2]</sup></a></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A schmarren! In that kitchen, with those flies.&quot; The countess felt a
+sense of loathing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, thank you.&quot; Even if she was starving, she could not eat a mouthful
+in this place.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The bay was at last tied and, for want of other occupation, continued
+to gnaw his crib and to suck the air, a proceeding terribly trying to
+the nerves of his fair neighbor in the next room. At last--oh joy,
+deliverance--the second carriage rattled up to the house, bringing the
+maid and the courier.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come in, come in!&quot; called the countess from the window. &quot;Don't have
+any of the luggage taken off. I shall not stay here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The two servants entered with flushed faces.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where in the world have you been so long?&quot; asked their mistress,
+imperiously, glad to be able, at last, to vent her ill-humor on some
+one.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The driver missed the way,&quot; stammered the courier, casting a side
+glance at the blushing maid. The countess perceived the situation at a
+glance and was herself again. Fear and timidity, all her nervous
+weakness vanished before the pride of the offended mistress, who had
+been kept waiting an hour, at whose close the tardy servants entered
+with faces whose confusion plainly betrayed that so long a delay was
+needless.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She drew herself up to her full height, feminine fears forgotten in the
+pride of the lady of rank.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Courier, you are dismissed--not another word!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then I beg Your Highness to discharge me, too,&quot; said the excited maid,
+thus betraying herself. A contemptuous glance from the countess rested
+upon the culprit, but without hesitation, she said, quietly:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well. You can both go to the steward for your wages. Good
+evening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Both left the room pale and silent. They had not expected this
+dismissal, but they knew their mistress' temper and were aware that not
+another word would be allowed, that no excuse or entreaty would avail.
+The countess, too, was in no pleasant mood. She was left here--without
+a maid. For the first time in her life she would be obliged to wait
+upon herself, unpack all those huge trunks and bags. How could she do
+it? She was so cold and so weary, too, and she did not even know which
+of the numerous bags contained dry shoes and stockings. Was she to pull
+out everything, when she must do the repacking herself? For now she
+must certainly go to another house, among civilized people, where she
+could have servants and not be so utterly alone. Oh, if only she had
+not come to this Ammergau--it was a horrible place! One would hardly
+purchase the salvation of the world at the cost of such an evening. It
+was terrible to be in this situation--and without a maid!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And, as trivial things find even the loftiest women fainthearted
+because they are matters of nerve, and not of character, the lady who
+had just confronted her servants so haughtily sank down on the bed
+again and wept like a child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some one tapped lightly on the door of the workshop. The countess
+opened it, and the short, stout sister timidly entered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon me, Your Highness, we have just heard that you have discharged
+your maid and courier, so I wanted to ask whether my sister or I could
+be of any service? Perhaps we might unpack a little?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you--I don't wish to spend the night here and hope that my
+companion will bring news that he has found other accommodations. I
+will pay whatever you ask, but I can't possibly stay. Ask your father
+what he charges, I'll give whatever you wish--only let me go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old man was summoned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why certainly, Countess, you can be entirely at ease on that score; if
+you don't like staying with us, that need not trouble you. You will
+have nothing to pay--only you must be quick or you will find no
+lodgings, they are very hard to get now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, but you must have some compensation. Just tell me what I am to
+give.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing, Countess. We do not receive payment for what is not eaten!&quot;
+replied Andreas Gross with such impressive firmness that the lady
+looked at him in astonishment. &quot;The Ammergau people do not make a
+business of renting lodgings, Countess; that is done only by the
+foreign speculators who wish to make a great deal of money at this
+time, and alas! bring upon Ammergau the reputation of extortion! We
+natives of the village do it for the sake of having as many guests
+witness the play as possible, and are glad if we meet our expenses. We
+expect nothing more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess suddenly saw the &quot;hang-dog&quot; face in a very different
+light! It must have been the dusk which had deceived her. She now
+thought it an intellectual and noble one, nay the wrinkled countenance,
+the long grey locks, and clear, penetrating eyes had an aspect of
+patriarchal dignity. She suddenly realized that these people must have
+had the masks which their characters require bestowed by nature, not
+painted with rouge, and thus the traits of the past unconsciously
+became impressed upon the features. In the same way, among professional
+actors, the performer who takes character rôles can easily be
+distinguished from the lover.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you act too?&quot; she asked with interest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I act Dathan, the Jewish trader,&quot; he said proudly. &quot;I have been in the
+Play sixty years, for when I was a child three years old I sat in Eve's
+lap in the tableaux.&quot; The countess could not repress a smile and old
+Andreas' face also brightened.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The little girl, a daughter of the short, plump woman, peeped through
+the half open door, gazing with sparkling eyes at the lovely lady.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Whose child is the little one?&quot; asked the countess, noticing her soft
+curb and beaming eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She is my grand-daughter, the child of my daughter, Anna. Her father
+was a foreigner. He ran away, leaving his wife and two children in
+poverty. So I took them all three into my house again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess looked at the old man's thin, worn figure, and then at the
+plump mother and child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who supports them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, we help one another,&quot; replied Andreas evasively. &quot;We all work
+together. My son, the drawing teacher, does a great deal for us, too.
+We could not manage without him.&quot; Then interrupting himself with a
+startled look, as if he might have been overheard, he added, &quot;but I
+ought not to have said that--he would be very angry if he knew.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You appear to be a little afraid of your son,&quot; said the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes--he is strict, very strict and proud, but a good son.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old man's eyes sparkled with love and pride.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where is he?&quot; asked the countess eagerly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, he never allows strangers to see him if he can avoid it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Does he act, too?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No; he arranges the tableaux, and it needs the ability of a field
+marshal, for he is obliged to command two or three hundred people, and
+he keeps them together and they obey him as though he was a general.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He must be a very interesting person.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At that moment the prince's step was heard in the sitting-room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May I come in?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Prince.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He entered, dripping with rain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I found nothing except one little room for myself, in a hut even worse
+than this. All the large houses are filled to overflowing. Satan
+himself brought us among these confounded peasants!&quot; he said angrily in
+French.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't speak so,&quot; replied the countess earnestly in the same language.
+&quot;They are saints.&quot; The little girl whispered to her mother.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Please excuse me, Sir; but my child understands French and has just
+told me that you could get no room for the lady,&quot; said Andreas'
+daughter timidly. &quot;I know where there is one in a very pretty house
+near by. I will run over as quickly as I can and see if it is still
+vacant. If you could secure it you would find it much better than
+ours.&quot; She hurried towards the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Stop, woman,&quot; called the prince, &quot;you cannot possibly go out; the rain
+is pouring in torrents, and another shower is rising.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, stay,&quot; cried the countess, &quot;wait till the storm is over.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no! lodgings are being taken every minute, we must not lose an
+instant.&quot; The next moment she threw a shawl over her head and left the
+house. She was just running past the low window--a vivid flash of
+lightning illumined the room, making the little bent figure stand forth
+like a silhouette. A peal of thunder quickly followed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The storm is just over us,&quot; said the prince with kindly anxiety. &quot;We
+ought not to have let her go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, it is of no consequence,&quot; said the old man smiling, &quot;she is glad
+to do it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tell me about these strange people,&quot; the prince began, but the
+countess motioned to him that the child understood French. He looked at
+her with a comical expression as if he wanted to say: &quot;These are queer
+'natives' who give their children so good an education.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess went to the window, gazing uneasily at the raging storm. A
+feeling of self-reproach stole into her heart for having let the kind
+creature go out amid this uproar of the elements. Especially when these
+people would take no compensation and therefore lost a profit, if
+another lodging was found.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was her loss, and yet she showed this cheerful alacrity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The little party had now entered the living room. The countess sat on
+the window sill, while flash after flash of lightning blazed, and peal
+after peal crashed from the sky. She no longer thought of herself, only
+of the poor woman outside. The little girl wept softly over her poor
+mother's exposure to the storm, and slipped to the door to wait for
+her. The prince, shivering, sat on the bench by the stove. Gross,
+noticing it, put on more fuel &quot;that the gentleman might dry himself.&quot; A
+bright fire was soon crackling in the huge green stove, the main
+support of the sunken ceiling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pray charge the fuel to me,&quot; said the prince, ashamed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old man smiled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How you gentle-folks want to pay for everything. We should have needed
+a fire ourselves.&quot; With these words he left the room. The thin sister
+now thought it desirable not to disturb the strangers and also went
+out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tell me, Countess,&quot; the prince began, leaning comfortably against the
+warm stove, &quot;may I perfume this, by no means agreeable, atmosphere with
+a cigarette?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, I had forgotten that there were such things as cigarettes
+in the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So it seems to me,&quot; said the prince, coolly. &quot;Tell me, <i>chère amie</i>,
+now that you have duly enjoyed all the tremors of this romantic
+situation, how should you like a cup of tea?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tea?&quot; said the countess, looking at him as if just roused from a
+dream, &quot;tea!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, tea,&quot; persisted the prince. &quot;My poor friend, you must have lived
+an eternity in this one hour among these 'savages' to have already lost
+the memory of one of the best products of civilization.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tea,&quot; repeated the countess, who now realized her exhaustion, &quot;that
+would be refreshing, but I don't know how to get it, I sent the maid
+away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I met the dismissed couple in a state of utter despair. And I can
+imagine that my worshipped Countess Madeleine--the most pampered and
+spoiled of all the children of fortune and the fashionable world--does
+not know how to help herself. I am by no means sorry, for I shall
+profit by it. I can now pose as a kind Providence. What good luck for a
+lover! is it not? So permit me to supply the maid's place--so far as
+this is <i>practicable</i>. I have tea with me and my valet whom, thank
+Heaven, I was not obliged to send away, is waiting your order to serve
+it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How kind you are, Prince. But consider that kitchen filled with
+flies.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, you need not feel uncomfortable on that score. You are evidently
+unused to the mountains. I know these flies, they are different from
+our city ones and possess a peculiar skill in keeping out of food. Try
+it for once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, but we must first ascertain whether I can get the other room,&quot;
+said the countess, again lapsing into despondency.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My dearest Countess, does that prevent our taking any refreshment?
+Don't be so spiritless,&quot; said the prince laughing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, it's all very well to laugh. The situation is tragical enough, I
+assure you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tragical enough to pay for the trouble of developing a certain
+grandeur of soul, but not, in true womanly fashion, to lose all
+composure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince shook the ashes from his cigarette and went to the door to
+order the valet to serve the tea. When he returned, the countess
+suddenly came to meet him, held out her hand, and said with a
+bewitching smile:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Prince, you are charming to-day, and I am unbearable. I thank you for
+the patience you have shown.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Madeleine,&quot; he replied, controlling his emotion, &quot;if I did not know
+your kind heart, I should believe you a Circe, who delighted in driving
+men mad. Were it not for my cold, sober reason, which you always
+emphasize, I should now mistake for love the feeling which makes you
+meet me so graciously, and thus expose myself to disappointment. But
+reason plainly shows that it is merely the gratitude of a kind heart
+for a trivial service rendered in an unpleasant situation, and I am too
+proud to do, in earnest, what I just said in jest--profit by the
+opportunity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, chilled and ashamed, drew her hand back. There spoke the
+dry, prosaic, commonplace man. Had he <i>now</i> understood how to profit by
+her mood when, in her helpless condition, he appeared as a deliverer in
+the hour of need, who knows what might have happened! But this was
+precisely what he disdained. The experienced man of the world knew
+women well enough to be perfectly aware how easily one may be won in a
+moment of nervous depression, desperate perplexity and helplessness,
+yet though ever ready to enjoy every piquant situation, nevertheless or
+perhaps for that very reason he was too proud to owe to an accident of
+this kind the woman whom he had chosen for the companion of his life.
+The countess felt this and was secretly glad that he had spared her and
+himself a disappointment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is the way with women,&quot; he said softly, gazing at her with an
+almost compassionate expression. &quot;For the mess of pottage of an
+agreeable situation, they will sell the birthright of their most sacred
+feelings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is a solemn, bitter truth, such as I am not accustomed to hear
+from your lips, Prince. But however deep may be the gulf of realism
+whence you have drawn this experience, you shall not find it confirmed
+in me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is, you will punish me henceforth by your coldness, while you
+know perfectly well that it was the sincerity of my regard for you
+which prompted my act, Countess, that vengeance would be unworthy; a
+woman like you ought not to sink to the petty sensitiveness of ordinary
+feminine vanity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Prince, you are always right, and, believe me, if I carried my
+heart in my <i>head</i> instead of in my breast, that is, if we could love
+with the <i>intellect</i>, I should have been yours long ago, but alas, my
+friend, it is so <i>far</i> from the head to the heart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Prince lighted another cigarette. No one could detect what was
+passing in his mind. &quot;So much the worse for me!&quot; he said coldly,
+shrugging his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At that moment a sheet of flame filled the room, and the crashing
+thunder which followed sounded as if the ceiling had fallen and buried
+everything under it. The countess seemed bewildered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mother, mother!&quot; shrieked a voice outside. People gathered in the
+street, voices were heard, shouts, hurrying footsteps and the weeping
+of the little girl. The prince sprang out of the window, the countess
+regained her consciousness--of what?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Some one has been struck by lightning.&quot; She hastened out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A senseless figure was brought in and laid on the bench in the entry.
+It was the kind-hearted little creature whom her caprice had sent into
+the storm--perhaps to her death. There she lay silent and pale, with
+closed lids; her hands were cold her features sharp and rigid like
+those of a corpse, but her heart still throbbed under her drenched
+gown. The countess asked the prince to bring cologne and smelling salts
+from her satchel and skillfully applied the remedies; the prince helped
+her rub the arteries while she strove to restore consciousness with the
+sharp essences. Meanwhile the other sister soothed the weeping child.
+Andreas Gross poured a few drops of some liquid from a dusty flask into
+the sufferer's mouth, saying quietly, &quot;You must not be so much
+frightened, I am something of a doctor; it is only a severe fainting
+fit. The other is worse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Were two persons struck?&quot; asked the countess in horror.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, one of the musicians, the first violin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A sudden thought darted through the countess' brain, and a feeling of
+dread stole over her as if there was in Ammergau a beloved life for
+which she must tremble. Yet she knew no one.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Please bring a shawl from my room,&quot; she said to the prince, and when
+he had gone, she asked quickly: &quot;Tell me, is the musician tall?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has he long black hair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, he is fair,&quot; replied the old man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, with a feeling of relief, remained silent, the prince
+returned. The sick woman opened her eyes and a faint moan escaped her
+lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here will be a fine scene,&quot; thought the prince. &quot;Plenty of capital can
+be made out of such a situation. My lovely friend will outweigh every
+tear with a gold coin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After a short time the woman regained sufficient consciousness to
+realize her surroundings and tried to lift her feet from the bench.
+&quot;Oh, Countess, you will tax yourself too much. Please go in, there is a
+strong draught here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, but you must come with me,&quot; said the countess, &quot;try whether you
+can use your feet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was vain, she tried to take a step, but her feet refused to obey her
+will.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas!&quot; cried the countess deeply moved. &quot;She is paralyzed--and it is
+my fault.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Anna gently took her hand and raised it to her lips. &quot;Pray don't
+distress yourself, Countess, it will pass away. I am only sorry that I
+have caused you such a fright.&quot; She tried to smile, the ugly face
+looked actually beautiful at that moment, and the tones of her voice,
+whose tremor she strove to conceal, was so touching as she tried to
+comfort and soothe the self-reproach of the woman who had caused the
+misfortune that tears filled the countess' eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How wise she is,&quot; said the prince, marvelling at such delicacy and
+feeling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come,&quot; said the countess, &quot;we must get her into the warm rooms.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Andreas Gross, and at a sign from the prince, the valet, carried the
+sick woman in and laid her on the bench by the stove. The countess held
+her icy hand, while tears streamed steadily down the sufferer's cheeks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you feel any pain?&quot; asked the lady anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, oh no--but I can't help weeping because the Countess is so kind to
+me--I am in no pain--no indeed!&quot; She smiled again, the touching smile
+which seeks to console others.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; said the old man, &quot;you need not be troubled, she will be
+well to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The child laid her head lovingly on her mother's breast, a singularly
+peaceful atmosphere pervaded the room, a modest dignity marked the
+bearing of the poor peasants. The prince and the countess also sat in
+thoughtful silence. Suddenly the sick woman started up, &quot;Oh dear, I
+almost forget the main thing. The lady can have the lodgings. Two very
+handsome rooms and excellent attendance, but the countess must go at
+once as soon as the shower is over. They will be kept only an hour.
+More people will arrive at ten.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you,&quot; said the countess with a strange expression.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, there is no need. I am only glad I secured the rooms, and that the
+countess can have attendance,&quot; replied the sick woman joyously. &quot;I
+shall soon be better, then I'll show the way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you,&quot; repeated the countess earnestly. &quot;I do not want the
+rooms, I shall <i>stay here</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What are you going to do?&quot; asked the prince in amazement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I am ashamed that I was so foolish this evening. Will you keep
+me, you kind people, after I have done you so much injustice, and
+caused you such harm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! you must consult your own pleasure. We shall be glad to have you
+stay with us, but we shall take no offence, if it would be more
+pleasant for you elsewhere,&quot; said the old man with unruffled kindness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then I will stay.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is a good decision, Countess,&quot; said the prince. &quot;You always do
+what is right.&quot; He beckoned to Sephi, the thin sister, and whispered a
+few words. She vanished in the countess' room, returning in a short
+time with dry shoes and stockings, which she had found in one of the
+travelling satchels. The prince went to the window and stood there with
+his back turned to the room. &quot;We must do the best that opportunity
+permits,&quot; he said energetically. &quot;I beg your highness to let this lady
+change your shoes and stockings. I am answerable for your health, not
+only to myself, but to society.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess submitted to the prince's arrangement, and the little
+ice-cold feet slid comfortably into the dry coverings, which Sephi had
+warmed at the stove. She now felt as if she was among human beings and
+gradually became more at ease. After Sephi had left the room she walked
+proudly up to the prince in her dry slippers, and said: &quot;Come, Prince,
+let us pace to and fro, that our chilled blood may circulate once
+more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince gracefully offered his arm and led her up and down the long
+work-shop. Madeleine was bewitching at that moment, and the grateful
+expression of her animated face suited her to a charm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must go,&quot; he thought, &quot;or I shall be led into committing some folly
+which will spoil all my chances with her.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">CHAPTER III.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>YOUNG AMMERGAU</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The valet served the tea. The prince had provided for
+everything,
+remembered everything. He had even brought English biscuits.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The little repast exerted a very cheering influence upon the depressed
+spirits of the countess. But she took the first cup to the invalid who,
+revived by the unaccustomed stimulant, rose at once, imagining that a
+miracle had been wrought, for she could walk again. The Gross family
+now left the room. The prince and the countess sipped their tea in
+silence. What were they to say when the valet, who always accompanied
+his master on his journeys, understood all the languages which the
+countess spoke fluently?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince was grave and thoughtful. After they had drank the tea, he
+kissed her hand. &quot;Let me go now--we must both have rest, you for your
+nerves and I for my feelings. I wish you a good night's sleep.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Prince, I can say that you have been infinitely charming to-day, and
+have risen much in my esteem.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am glad to hear it, Countess, though a trifle depressed by the
+consciousness that I owe this favor to a cup of tea and a pair of dry
+slippers,&quot; replied the prince with apparent composure. Then he took his
+hat and left the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And this is love? thought the countess, shrugging her shoulders. What
+was she to do? She did not feel at all inclined to sleep. People are
+never more disposed to chat than after hardships successfully endured.
+She had had her tea, had been warmed, served, and tended. For the first
+time since her arrival she was comfortable, and now she must go to bed.
+At ten o'clock in the evening, the hour when she usually drove from the
+theatre to some evening entertainment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince had gone and the Gross family came in to ask if she wanted
+anything more.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, but you are ready to go to bed, and I ought to return to my room,
+should I not?&quot; replied the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Just at that moment the door was flung open and a head like the bronze
+cast of the bust of a Roman emperor appeared. A face which in truth
+seemed as if carved from bronze, keen eagle eyes, a nose slightly
+hooked, an imperious, delicately moulded brow, short hair combed
+upward, and an expression of bitter, sad, but irresistible energy on
+the compressed lips. As the quick eyes perceived the countess, the head
+was drawn back with the speed of lightning. But old Gross, proud of his
+son, called him back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come in, come in and be presented to this lady, people don't run away
+so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The young man, somewhat annoyed, returned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My son, Ludwig, principal of the drawing school,&quot; said old Gross.
+Ludwig's artist eyes glided over the countess; she felt the glance of
+the connoisseur, knew, that he could appreciate her beauty. What a
+delight to see herself, among these simple folk, suddenly reflected in
+an artist's eyes and find that the picture came back beautiful. How
+happened so exquisite a crystal, which can be polished only in the
+workshops of the highest education and art, to be in such surroundings?
+The countess noted with ever increasing amazement the striking face and
+the proud poise of the head on the small, compact, yet classically
+formed figure. She knew at the first moment that this was a man in the
+true sense of the word, and she gave him her hand as though greeting an
+old acquaintance from the kingdom of the ideal. It seemed as if she
+must ask: &quot;How do you come here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross read the question on her lips. He possessed the vision
+from which even the thoughts must be guarded, or he would guess them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must ask your pardon for disturbing you. I have just come from the
+meeting and only wanted to see my sister. I heard she was ill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I feel quite well again,&quot; the latter answered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; said the countess in a somewhat embarrassed tone, &quot;you will be
+vexed with the intruder who has brought so much anxiety and alarm into
+your house? I reproach myself for being so foolish as to have wanted
+another lodging, but at first I thought that the ceiling would fall
+upon me, and I was afraid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I understand that perfectly when persons are not accustomed to low
+rooms. It was difficult for me to become used to them again when I
+returned from Munich.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were at the Academy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you not take off your wet coat and sit down?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I should not like to disturb you, Countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But you won't disturb me at all; come, let us have a little chat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross laid his hat and overcoat aside, took a chair, and sat
+down opposite to the lady. Just at that moment a carriage drove up. The
+strangers who had engaged the rooms refused to the prince had arrived,
+and the family hastened out to receive and help them. The countess and
+Ludwig were left alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What were you discussing at so late an hour?&quot; asked the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Doré sent us this evening two engravings of his two Passion pictures;
+he is interested in our play, so we were obliged to discuss the best
+way of expressing our gratitude and to decide upon the place where they
+shall be hung. There is no time for such consultations during the day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you familiar with all of Doré's pictures?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, Countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And do you like him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I admire him. I do not agree with him in every particular, but he is a
+genius, and genius has a right to forgiveness for faults which
+mediocrity should never venture to commit, and indeed never will.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very true,&quot; replied the lady.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I think,&quot; Ludwig Gross continued, &quot;that he resembles Hamerling. There
+is kinship between the two men. Hamerling, too, repels us here and
+there, but with him, as with Doré, every line and every stroke flashes
+with that electric spark which belongs only to the genuine work of
+art.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His companion gazed at him in amazement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have read Hamerling?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly. Who is not familiar with his 'Ahasuerus?'&quot;<a name="div2Ref_03" href="#div2_03"><sup>[3]</sup></a></p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I, for instance,&quot; she replied with a faint blush.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Countess, you must read it. There is a vigor, an acerbity, the
+repressed anguish and wrath of a noble nature against the pitifulness
+of mankind, which must impress every one upon whose soul the questions
+of life have ever cast their shadows, though I know not whether this is
+the case with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;More than is perhaps supposed,&quot; she answered, drawing a long breath.
+&quot;We are all pessimists, but Hamerling must be a stronger one than is
+well for a poet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is not quite correct,&quot; replied Ludwig. &quot;He is a pessimist just so
+far as accords with the poesy of our age. Did not Auerbach once say:
+'Pessimism is the grief of the world, which has no more tears!' This
+applies to Hamerling, also. His poetry has that bitter flavor, which is
+required by a generation that has passed the stage when sweets please
+the palate and tears relieve the heart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your words are very true. But how do you explain--it would be
+interesting to hear from you--how do you explain, in this mood of the
+times, the attraction which draws such throngs to the Passion Play?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross leaned back in his chair, and his stern brow relaxed under
+the bright influence of a beautiful thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;One extreme, as is well known, follows another. The human heart will
+always long for tears, and the world's tearless anguish will therefore
+yield to a gentler mood. I think that the rush to our simple play is a
+symptom of this change. People come here to learn to weep once more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess rested her clasped hands on the table and gazed long and
+earnestly at Ludwig Gross. Her whole nature was kindled, her eyes
+lingered admiringly upon the modest little man, who did not seem at all
+conscious of his own superiority. &quot;To learn to <i>weep</i>!&quot; she repeated,
+nodding gently. &quot;Yes, we might all need that. But do you believe we
+shall learn it here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross gazed at her smiling. &quot;You will not ask that question at
+this hour on the evening of the day after tomorrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He seemed to her a physician who possessed a remedy which he knows
+<i>cannot</i> fail. And she began to trust him like a physician.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May I be perfectly frank?&quot; she asked in a winning tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I beg that you will be so, Countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am surprised to find a man like you here. I had not supposed there
+were such people in the village. But you were away a long time, you are
+probably no longer a representative citizen of Ammergau?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross raised his head proudly. &quot;Certainly I am, Countess. If
+there was ever a true citizen of Ammergau, I am one. Learn to know us
+better, and you will soon be convinced that we are all of one mind.
+Though one has perhaps learned more than another, that is a mere
+accident; the same purpose, the same idea, unites us all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But what binds men of such talent to this remote village? Are you
+married?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The bitter expression around the artist's mouth deepened as though cut
+by some invisible instrument. &quot;No, Countess, my circumstances do not
+permit it; I have renounced this happiness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lady perceived that she had touched a sensitive spot, but she
+desired to probe the wound to learn whether it might be healed. &quot;Is
+your salary so small that you could not support a family?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I wish to aid my own family, and that is certainly my first duty, I
+cannot found a home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How is that possible. Does so rich a community pay its teacher so
+poorly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It does as well as it can, Countess. It has fixed a salary of twelve
+hundred marks for my position; that is all that can be expected.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For this place, yes. But if you were in Munich, you would easily
+obtain twice or three times as much.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Even five times,&quot; answered Ludwig, smiling. &quot;I had offers from two
+art-industrial institutes, one of which promised a salary of four
+thousand, the other of six thousand marks per annum. But that did not
+matter when the most sacred duties to my home were concerned.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But these are superhuman sacrifices. Who can expect you to banish
+yourself here and resign everything which the world outside would
+lavish upon you in the richest measure? Everyone must consider himself
+first.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, Countess, Ammergau would die out if everybody was of that
+opinion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! let those remain who are suited to the place, who have learned and
+can do nothing more. But men of talent and education, like you, who can
+claim something better, belong outside.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On the contrary, Countess, they belong here,&quot; Ludwig eagerly answered.
+&quot;What would become of the Passion Play if all who have learned and can
+do something should go away, and only the uneducated and the ignorant
+remain? Do you suppose that there are not a number of people here, who,
+according to your ideas, would have deserved 'a better fate?' We have
+enough of them, but go among us and learn whether any one complains. If
+he should, he would be unworthy the name of a son of Ammergau!&quot; He
+paused a moment, his bronzed face grew darker. &quot;Do you imagine,&quot; he
+added, &quot;that we could perform such a work, perform it in a manner
+which, in some degree, fulfills the æsthetic demand of modern taste,
+without possessing, in our midst, men of intellect and culture? It is
+bad enough that necessity compels many a talented native of Ammergau to
+seek his fortune outside, but the man to whom his home still gives even
+a bit of <i>bread</i> must be content with it, and without thinking of what
+he might have gained outside, devote his powers to the ideal interests
+of his fellow citizens.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is a grand and noble thought, but I don't understand why you
+speak as if the people of Ammergau were so poor. What becomes of the
+vast sums gained by the Passion Play?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross smiled bitterly. &quot;I expected that question, it comes from
+all sides. The Passion Play does not enrich individuals, for the few
+hundred marks, more or less, which each of the six hundred actors
+receives, do not cover the deficit of all the work which the people
+must neglect. The revenue is partly consumed by the expenses, partly
+used for the common benefit, for schools and teachers. The principal
+sums are swallowed by the Leine and the Ammer! The ravages of these
+malicious mountain streams require means which our community could
+never raise, save for the receipts of the Passion Play, and even these
+are barely sufficient for the most needful outlay.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it possible? Those little streams!&quot; cried the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Would flood all Ammergau,&quot; Gross answered, &quot;if we did not constantly
+labor to prevent it. We should be a poor, stunted people, worn down by
+fever, our whole mountain valley would be a desolate swamp. The Passion
+Play alone saves us from destruction--the Christ who once ruled the
+waves actually holds back from us the destroying element which would
+gradually devour land and people. But, for that very reason, the
+individual has learned here, as perhaps nowhere else in the world, to
+live and sacrifice himself for the community! The community is
+comprised to us in the idea of the Passion Play. We know that our
+existence depends upon it, even our intellectual life, for it protects
+us from the savagery into which a people continually struggling with
+want and need so easily lapses. It raises us above the common herd,
+gives even the poorest man an innate dignity and self-respect, which
+never suffer him to sink to base excesses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I understand that,&quot; the countess answered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then can you wonder that not one of us hesitates to devote property,
+life, and every power of his soul to this work of saving our home, our
+poor, oppressed home, ever forced to straggle for its very existence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What a man!&quot; the countess involuntarily exclaimed aloud. Ludwig Gross
+had folded his arms across his breast, as if to restrain the pulsations
+of his throbbing heart. His whole being thrilled with the deepest,
+noblest emotions. He rose and took his hat, like a person whose
+principle it is to shut every emotion within his own bosom, and when a
+mighty one overpowers him, to hide himself that he may also hide the
+feeling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; cried the countess, &quot;you must not leave me so, you rare,
+noble-hearted man. You have just done me the greatest service which can
+be rendered. You have made my heart leap with joy at the discovery of a
+<i>genuine</i> human being. Ah! it is a cordial in this world of
+conventional masks! Give me your hand! I am beginning to understand why
+Providence sent me here. That must indeed be a great cause which rears
+such men and binds such powers in its service.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross once more stood calm and quiet before her. &quot;I thank you,
+Countess, in the name of the cause for which I live and die.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And, in the name of that cause, which I do not understand, yet dimly
+apprehend, I beg you, let us be friends. Will you? Clasp hands upon
+it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A kindly expression flitted over the grave man's iron countenance, and
+he warmly grasped the little hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;With all my heart, Countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She held the small, slender artist-hand in a close clasp, mournfully
+reading in the calm features of the stern, noble face the story of
+bitter suffering and sacrifice graven upon it.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">CHAPTER IV.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>EXPELLED FROM THE PLAY</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The storm had spent its fury, the winds sung themselves softly
+to
+sleep, a friendly face looked down between the dispersing clouds and
+cast its mild light upon the water, now gradually flowing away. The
+swollen brooks rolled like molten silver--cold, glittering veins of the
+giant mountain body, whose crown of snow bestowed by the tempest
+glimmered with argent lustre in the pallid moonbeams. A breeze, chill
+and strengthening as the icy breath of eternity, sweeping from the
+white glaciers, entered the little window against which the countess
+was dreamily leaning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Higher and higher rose the moon, more and more transfigured and
+transparent became the mountains, as if they were no longer compact
+masses, only the spiritual image of themselves as it may have hovered
+before the divine creative mind, ere He gave them material form.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The village lay silent before her, and silence pervaded all nature. Yet
+to the countess it seemed as if it were the stillness which precedes a
+great, decisive word.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What hast Thou to say to me, Viewless One? Sacred stillness, what dost
+thou promise? Will the moment come when I shall understand Thy
+language, infinite Spirit? Or wilt Thou only half do Thy work in
+me--only awake the feeling that Thou art near me, speaking to me,
+merely to let me die of longing for the word I have failed to
+comprehend.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Woe betide me, if it is so! And yet--wherefore hast Thou implanted in
+my heart this longing, this inexplicable yearning, which <i>nothing</i>
+stills, no earthly advantage, neither the splendor and grandeur Thou
+hast given me, nor the art and science which Thou didst endow me with
+capacity to appreciate. On, on, strives my thirsting soul toward the
+germ of all existence, toward <i>Thee</i>. Fain would I behold Thy face,
+though the fiery vision should consume me!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Source of wisdom, no knowledge gives Thee to me; source of love, no
+love can supply Thy place. I have sought Thee in the temples of beauty,
+but found Thee not; in the shining spheres of thought, but in vain; in
+the love of human beings, but no matter how many hearts opened to me, I
+flung them aside as worthless rubbish, for Thou wert not in them! When
+will the moment come that Thou wilt appear before me in some noble form
+suited to Thy Majesty, and tell the sinner that her dim longing, into
+whatever errors it may have led her, yet obtained for her the boon of
+beholding Thy face?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Burning tears glittered in the moonlight in the countess' large,
+beseeching eyes and, mastered by an inexplicable feeling, she sank on
+her knees at the little window, stretching her clasped hands fervently
+towards the shining orb, floating in her mild beauty and effulgence
+above the conquered, flying clouds. The mountain opposite towered like
+a spectral form in the moonlit atmosphere, the peak over which she had
+driven that day, where she had seen that wondrous apparition, that man
+with the grief of the universe in his gaze! What manner of man must he
+have been whose glance, in a single moment, awed the person upon whom
+it fell as if some higher power had given a look of admiration? Why had
+it rested upon her with such strange reproach, as if saying: &quot;You, too,
+are a child of the world, like many who come here, unworthy of
+salvation.&quot; Or was he angry with her because she had disturbed him in
+his reveries? Yet why did he fix his eyes so intently upon hers, that
+neither could avert them from the other? And all this happened in a
+single moment--but a moment worthy of being held in remembrance
+throughout an eternity. Who could he be? Would she see him again? Yes,
+for in that meeting there was something far beyond mere accident.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An incomprehensible restlessness seized upon her, a longing to solve
+the enigma, once more behold that face, that wonderful face whose like
+she had never seen before!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The horse was stamping in its stall, but she did not heed it, the thin
+candles had burned down and gone out long ago, the worm was gnawing the
+ancient wainscoting, the clock in the church-steeple struck twelve. A
+dog howled in the distance, one of the children in the workshop was
+disturbed by the nightmare, it cried out in its sleep. Usually such
+nocturnal sounds would have greatly irritated the countess' nerves. Now
+she had no ears for them, before her lay the whole grand expanse of
+mountain scenery, bathed in the moonlight, naked as a beautiful body
+just risen from a glittering flood! And she was seized with an eager
+longing to throw herself upon the bosom of this noble body, that she,
+too, might be irradiated with light, steeped in its moist glow and cool
+in the pure, icy atmosphere emanating from it, her fevered blood, the
+vague yearning which thrilled her pulses. She hurriedly seized her hat
+and cloak and stepped noiselessly into the workshop. What a picture of
+poverty! The sisters and the little girl were lying on the floor upon
+sacks of straw, the boy was asleep on the &quot;couch,&quot; and the old man
+dozed sitting erect in an antique arm-chair, with his feet on a stool.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How relative everything is,&quot; thought the countess. &quot;To these people
+even so poor a bed as mine in yonder room is a forbidden luxury, which
+it would be sinful extravagance to desire. And we, amid our rustling
+curtains, on our silken cushions, resting on soft down, in rooms
+illuminated with the magical glow of lamps which pour a flood of
+roseate light on limbs stretched in comfortable repose, while the
+bronze angels which support the mirror seem to laugh gaily at each
+other, and from the toilet table intoxicating perfumes send forth their
+sweet poison, to conjure up a tropical world of blossom before the
+drowsy senses! While these sleeping-places here! On the bare floor and
+straw, lighted by the cold glimmer of the moon, shining through
+uncurtained windows and making the slumberers' lids quiver restlessly.
+Not even undressed, cramped by their coarse, tight garments, their
+weary limbs move uneasily on the hard beds! And this atmosphere! Five
+human beings in the low room and the soot from the lamp which has been
+smoking all the evening still filling the air. What lives! What
+contrasts! Yet these people are content and do not complain of their
+hard fate! Nay, they even disdain a favorable opportunity of improving
+it by legitimate gains. Not one desires more than is customary and
+usual. What pride, what grandeur of self-sacrifice this requires! <i>What
+gives them this power?</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Old Andreas woke and gazed with an almost terrified expression at the
+beautiful figure of the countess, standing thoughtfully among the
+sleepers. Starting up, he asked what she desired.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you go to walk with me, Herr Gross?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old man rubbed his eyes to convince himself that he had slept so
+long that the sun was shining into his room. But no. &quot;It is the moon
+which is so bright,&quot; he said to the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, of course, that is why I want to go out!&quot; she repeated. The old
+man quickly seized his hat from the chamois horn and stood ready to
+attend her. &quot;Are you not tired?&quot; she said hesitatingly. &quot;You have not
+been in bed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, that is of no consequence!&quot; was his ready answer. &quot;During the
+Passion it is always so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess shook her head; she knew that the people here said simply
+&quot;the Passion,&quot; but she could not understand why, during &quot;the Passion,&quot;
+they should neither expect a bed nor the most trivial comfort or why,
+for the sake of &quot;the Passion,&quot; they should endure without a murmur, and
+without succumbing, every exertion and deprivation. She saw in the
+broad light which filled the room the old man's bright, keen eyes. &quot;No,
+these Ammergau people know no fatigue, their task supports them!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess left the room with him. &quot;Ah!&quot; an involuntary exclamation
+of delight escaped her lips as she emerged into the splendor of the
+brilliant moonlight, and eagerly inhaled the air which blew cold and
+strong, yet closed softly around her, strengthening and supporting her
+like the waves of the sea. And, amid these shimmering, floating mists,
+this &quot;phosphorescence&quot; of the earth, these waves of melting outlines,
+softly dissolving shapes--the Kofel towered solitary in sharp relief,
+like a vast reef of rocks, and on its summit glittered the metal-bound
+cross, the symbol of Ammergau, sending its beams far and wide in the
+light of the full moon like the lantern of a lighthouse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau stretched out her arms, throwing back her cloak,
+that her whole form might bathe in the pure element.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, wash away all earthly dust and earthly ballast, ye surging
+billows: steal, purify me in thy chaste majesty, queen of the world,
+heaven-born air of the heights!&quot; Was it possible that hitherto she had
+been able to live without this bliss, <i>had</i> she lived? No, no, she had
+not! &quot;Ammergau, thou art the soil I have sought! Thy miracles are
+beginning!&quot; cried an exultant voice in the soul of the woman so
+suddenly released from the toils of weary desolation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Without exchanging many words--for the old man was full of delicacy,
+and perceived what was passing in the countess' soul--they
+involuntarily walked in the direction of the Kofel; only when they were
+passing the house of a prominent actor in the Passion Play, he often
+thought it his duty to call his companion's attention to it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Their way now lead them past a small dilapidated tavern which had but
+two windows in the front. Here the Roman Procurator lay on his bed of
+straw, enjoying his well-earned night's rest. It was the house of
+Pilate! Nowhere was any window closed with shutters--there were no
+thieves in Ammergau! The moon was reflected from every window-pane.
+They turned into the main street of the village, where the Ammer flowed
+in its broad, deep channel like a Venetian lagoon. The stately,
+picturesquely situated houses threw sharp shadows on the water. Here
+the ancient, venerable &quot;star,&quot; whose landlord was one of the musicians,
+thrust its capacious bow-window into the street; yonder a foot-bridge
+led to the house of Caiaphas, a handsome building, richly adorned with
+frescoes representing scenes from ancient history; farther on Judas was
+sleeping the sleep of the just, rejoicing in the consciousness of
+having betrayed his master so often! On the other side Mary rested
+under the richly carved gable with the ancient design of the clover
+leaf, the symbol of the Trinity, and directly opposite, the milk-wart
+nodded and swayed on the wall of the churchyard!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A strange feeling stole over the countess as she stood among these
+consecrated sleepers. As the fragrance of the sleeping flowers floats
+over a garden at night, the sorrowful spirit of the story of the
+Passion seemed to rise from these humble resting places, and the
+pilgrim through the silent village was stirred as though she was
+walking through the streets of Jerusalem. A street turned to the left
+between gardens surrounded by fences and shaded by tall, ancient trees.
+The shadows of the branches, tossed by the wind, flickered and danced
+with magical grace. &quot;That is the way to the dwelling of the Christ,&quot;
+said old Gross, in a subdued, reverential tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess involuntarily started. &quot;The Christ,&quot; she repeated
+thoughtfully, pausing. &quot;Can the house be seen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, not from here. The house is like himself, not very easy to find.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is he so inaccessible?&quot; asked the countess, glancing down the
+mysterious street again as they passed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh yes,&quot; replied Andreas. &quot;He is a peculiar man. It is difficult to
+approach him. He is a friend of my son, but has little to do with the
+rest of us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But you associate with him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very little in daily life; he goes nowhere, not even to the ale-house.
+But in the Passion I am associated with him. I always nail him to the
+cross,&quot; added the old man proudly. &quot;No one is permitted to do that
+except myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess listened with eager interest. The brief description had
+roused her curiosity to the utmost. &quot;How do you do it?&quot; she asked, to
+keep him to the same subject.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot explain that to you, but a great deal depends upon having
+everything exactly right, for, you know, the least mistake might cost
+him his life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, surely you can understand. Just think, the man is obliged to hang
+on the cross for twenty minutes. During this time the blood cannot
+circulate, and he always risks an attack of palpitation of the heart.
+One incautious movement in the descent from the cross, which should
+cause the blood to flow back too quickly to the heart, might cause his
+death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is terrible!&quot; cried the countess in horror. &quot;And does he know
+it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, certainly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And <i>still</i> does it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Here Andreas gazed at the great lady with a compassionate smile, as if
+he wanted to say: &quot;How little you understand, that you can ask such a
+question!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They walked on silently. The countess was thinking: &quot;What kind of man
+must this Christ be?&quot; and while thus pondering and striving to form
+some idea of him, it suddenly flashed upon her that there was but <i>one</i>
+face which could belong to this man, the face she had seen gazing down
+upon her from the mountain, as if from some other world. Like a blaze
+of lightning the thought flamed through her soul. &quot;<i>That</i> must have
+been he!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At that moment Gross made a circuit around a gloomy house that had a
+neglected, tangled garden.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who lives there?&quot; asked the countess in surprise, following the old
+man, who was now walking much faster.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh,&quot; he answered sorrowfully, &quot;that is a sad place! There is an
+unhappy girl there, who sobs and moans all night long so that people
+hear her outside. I wanted to spare you, Countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They had now reached the end of the village and were walking, still
+along the bank of the Ammer, toward a large dam over which the mountain
+stream, swollen by the rain, plunged in mad, foaming waves. The spray
+gleamed dazzlingly white in the moon-rays, the massive beams trembled
+under the pressure of the unchained volume of water, groaning and
+creaking with a sinister noise amid the thundering roar until it
+sounded like the wails of the dying amid the din of battle. The
+countess shuddered at the demoniac power of this spectacle. High above
+the steep fall a narrow plank led from one bank of the stream to the
+other, vibrating constantly with the shock of the falling water.
+Madeleine's brain whirled at the thought of being compelled to cross
+it. &quot;The timbers are groaning,&quot; she said, pausing. &quot;Does not it sound
+like a human voice?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old man listened. &quot;By heaven! one would suppose so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It <i>is</i> a human voice--there--hark--some one is weeping--moaning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The dam was in the full radiance of the moonlight, the countess and her
+companion stood concealed by a dense clump of willows, so that they
+could see without being seen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Suddenly--what was that? The old man made the sign of the cross.
+&quot;Heavenly Father, it is she!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A female figure was gliding across the plank. Like the ruddy glow of
+flame, mingled with the bluish hue of the moonlight, a mass of red-gold
+hair gleamed around her head and fluttered in the wind. The beautiful
+face was ghost-like in its pallor, the eyes were fixed, the very
+embodiment of despair. Her upper garment hung in tatters about her
+softly-moulded shoulders, and she held her clasped hands uplifted, not
+like one who prays, but one who fain would pray, yet cannot. Then with
+the firm poise of a person seeking death, she walked to the middle of
+the swaying plank, where the water was deepest, the fall most steep.
+There she prepared to take the fatal plunge. The countess shrieked
+aloud and Gross shouted:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Josepha! Josepha! May God forgive you. Remember your old mother!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The girl uttered a piercing cry, covered her face with both hands, and
+flung herself prone on the narrow plank.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But, with the speed of a youth, the old man was already on the bridge,
+raising the girl. &quot;Shame on you to wish to do such a thing! We must
+submit to our fate! Now take care that you don't make a mis-step or I,
+an old man, must leap into the cold water to drag you out again, and
+you know how much I suffer from the rheumatism.&quot; He spoke in low,
+kindly tones, and the countess secretly admired his shrewdness and
+tenderness. She watched them breathlessly as the girl, at these words,
+tried not to slip in order to spare him. But now, as she did not <i>wish</i>
+to fall, she moved with uncertain, stumbling feet, where she had just
+seemed to fly. But Andreas Gross led her firmly and kindly. The
+countess' heart throbbed heavily till they reached the end and, in the
+utmost anxiety she stretched out her arms to them from the distance.
+Thank Heaven, there they are! The lady caught the girl by the hand and
+dragged her on the shore, where she sank silently, like a stricken
+animal, at her feet. The countess covered the trembling form with her
+cloak and said a few comforting words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you know her?&quot; she asked the old man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of course, it is Josepha Freyer, from the gloomy house yonder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer? A relative of the Freyer who played the Christ.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A cousin; yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old man was about to go to the girl's house to bring her mother.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, no,&quot; said the countess. &quot;I will care for her. What induced the
+unfortunate girl to take such a step?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She was the Mary Magdalene in the last Passion!&quot; whispered the old
+man. At the words the girl raised her head and burst into violent sobs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My child, what has happened!&quot; asked the countess, gazing admiringly at
+the charming creature, who was as perfect a picture of the penitent
+Magdalene as any artist could create.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why don't you play the Magdalene <i>this time</i>?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't you know?&quot; asked the girl, amazed that there was any human being
+still ignorant of her disgrace. &quot;I am not <i>permitted</i> to play now--I
+am--I have&quot;--she again burst with convulsive sobs and, clasping the
+countess' knees, cried: &quot;Oh, let me die, I cannot bear it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She fell into error,&quot; said Gross, in reply to the lady's questioning
+glance. &quot;A little boy was born last winter. Now she can no longer act,
+for only those who are pure and without reproach are permitted to take
+part in the Passion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, how harsh!&quot; cried the countess; &quot;And in a land where human beings
+are so near to nature, and in circumstances where the poor girls are so
+little guarded.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, we are aware of that--and Josepha is a heavy loss to us in the
+play--but these rules have come down to us from our ancestors and must
+be rigidly maintained. Yet the girl takes it too much to heart, she
+weeps day and night, so that people never pass the house to avoid
+hearing her lamentations, and now she wants to kill herself, the
+foolish lass.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, it's very well for you to talk, it's very well for you to talk,&quot;
+now burst from the girls lips in accents tremulous with passion.
+&quot;First, try once what it is to have the whole world point at you. When
+the Englishmen, and the strangers from all the foreign countries in the
+world, come and want to see the famous Josepha Freyer, who played in
+the last Passion, and fairly drag the soul out of your body with their
+questions about the reason that you no longer act in it. Wait till you
+have to tell each person the story of your own disgrace, that it may be
+carried through the whole earth and know that your name is branded
+wherever men speak of the Passion Play. First try what it is to hide in
+a corner like a criminal, while they are acting in the Passion, and
+bragging and giving themselves airs as if they were saints, while
+thousands upon thousands listen devoutly. Ah, I alone am shut out, and
+yet I know that <i>no one</i> can act as I do.&quot; She drew herself up proudly,
+and flung the magnificent traditional locks of the Magdalene back on
+her shoulders. &quot;Just seek such a Magdalene as I was--you will find
+none. And then to be forced to hear people who are passing ask: 'Why
+doesn't Josepha Freyer play the Magdalene this year?' And then there
+are whispers, shrugs, and laughter, some one says, 'then she would suit
+the character exactly.' And when people pass the house they point at
+it--it seems as if I could feel it through the walls--and mutter:
+'That's where the Penitent lives!' No, I won't bear it. I only waited
+till there was a heavy storm to make the water deep enough for me to
+drown myself. And I've been prevented even in this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Josepha!&quot; said the countess, deeply moved, &quot;will you go with me--away
+from Ammergau, to another, a very different world, where you and your
+disgrace are unknown?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha gazed at the stranger as if in a dream.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I believe,&quot; the lady added, &quot;that my losing my maid to-day was an act
+of Providence in your behalf. Will you take her place?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank heaven!&quot; said old Gross. &quot;Brighter days will dawn for you,
+Josepha!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha stood still with her hands clasped, tears were streaming down
+her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, do you hesitate to accept my offer?&quot; asked the countess, greatly
+perplexed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, don't be angry with me--I am sincerely grateful; but what do I
+care for all these things, if I am no longer permitted to act the
+Magdalene?&quot; burst in unutterable anguish from the very depths of the
+girl's soul.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What an ambition!&quot; said the countess to Andreas in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, that is the way with them all here--they would rather lose their
+lives than a part in the Passion!&quot; he answered in a low tone. &quot;But,
+child, you could not always play the Magdalene--in ten years you would
+be too old for it,&quot; he said soothingly to the despairing Josepha.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh that's a very different thing--when we have grown grey with honors,
+we know that we must give it up--but so--&quot; and again she gazed
+longingly at the beautiful, deep, rushing water, where it would be so
+cool, so pleasant to rest--which she had vowed to seek, and now could
+not keep her word.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you love your child, Josepha?&quot; asked Countess Wildenau.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It died directly after it was born.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you love your mother?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, she was always unkind and harsh to me, and now she has lost her
+mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you love your lover?&quot; the lady persisted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes--but he is dead! A poacher shot him--he was a forester.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then you have no one for whom you care to live?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No one!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then come with me and try whether you cannot love me well enough to
+make it worth while to live for me! Will you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, your Highness, I will try!&quot; replied the girl, fixing her large
+eyes with an expression of mingled inquiry and admiration upon the
+countess. A beautiful glow of gratitude and confidence gradually
+transfigured the grief-worn face: &quot;I think I could do anything for
+you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come with me then--at once, poor child--I will save you! Your
+relatives will not object.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no! They will be glad to have me go away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And your cousin, the--the--&quot; she does not know herself why she
+hesitates to pronounce the name.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Christ-Freyer?&quot; said Josepha finishing the sentence. &quot;Oh! he has
+not spoken to me for a year, except to say what was absolutely
+necessary, he cannot get over my having brought disgrace upon his
+unsullied name. It has made him disgusted with life here and, if it
+were not for the Christ, he would not stay in Ammergau. He is so severe
+in such things.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So <i>severe!</i>&quot; the countess repeated, thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The clock in the steeple of the Ammergau church struck two.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is late,&quot; said the countess, &quot;the poor thing needs rest.&quot; She
+wrapped her own cloak around the girl.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, lonely heart, I will warm you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She turned once more to drink in the loveliness of the exquisite scene.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Night of miracle, I thank thee.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">CHAPTER V.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>MODERN PILGRIMS</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you think. The Countess von Wildenau is founding an
+Orphan's
+Home!&quot; said the prince, as, leaving the Gross house, he joined a group
+of gentlemen who were waiting just outside the door in the little
+garden.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The news created a sensation; the gentlemen, laughing and jesting,
+plied him with questions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, <i>Mon Dieu</i>, who can understand a woman? Our goddess is sitting in
+the peasants' living room, with the elderly daughters of the house,
+indescribable creatures, occupying herself with feminine work.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Her Highness! Countess Wildenau! Oh, that's a bad joke.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, upon my honor! If she had not hung a veil over the window, we
+could see her sitting there. She has borrowed a calico apron from one
+of the 'ladies of the house,' and as, for want of a maid, she was
+obliged to arrange her hair herself, she wears it to-day in a
+remarkably simple style and looks,&quot;--he kissed his hand to the empty
+air--&quot;more bewitching than ever, like a girl of sixteen, a regular
+Gretchen! Whoever has not gone crazy over her when she has been in full
+dress, will surely do so if he sees her <i>thus</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Aha! We must see her, too; we'll assail the window!&quot; cried his
+companions enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, no! For Heaven's sake don't do that, on pain of her anger! Prince
+Hohenheim, I beg you! Count Cossigny, don't knock! St. Génois, <i>au nom
+de Dieu</i>, she will never forgive you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why not--friends so intimate as we are?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have already said, who can depend upon a woman's whims? Let me
+explain. I entered, rejoicing in the thought of bringing her such
+pleasant news. I said: 'Guess whom I met just now at the ticket office,
+Countess?' The goddess sat sewing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a general cry of astonishment. &quot;Sewing!&quot; the prince went on,
+&quot;of course, without a thimble, for those in the house did not fit, and
+there was none among Her Highness' trinkets. So I repeated my question.
+An icy 'How can I tell?' was the depressing answer, as if at that
+moment nothing in the world could possibly interest her more than her
+work! So, unasked and with no display of attention, I was forced to go
+on with my news. 'Just think, Countess, Prince Hohenheim, the Counts
+Cossigny, Wengenrode, St. Génois, all Austria, France, and Bavaria have
+arrived!' I joyously exclaimed. I expected that she would utter a sigh
+of relief at the thought of meeting men of her world again, but no--she
+greeted my tidings with a frown.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hear, hear!&quot; cried the group.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A frown! I was forced to persist. 'They are outside, waiting to throw
+themselves at your feet,' I added. A still darker frown. 'Please keep
+the gentlemen away, I can see no one, I will see no one.' So she
+positively announced. I timidly ventured to ask why. She was tired, she
+could receive no one, she had no time. At last it came out. What do you
+suppose the countess did yesterday?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I dare not guess,&quot; replied St. Génois with a malicious glance at the
+prince, which the latter loftily ignored.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She sent me away at eleven o'clock and then went wandering about,
+rhapsodizing over the moonlight with her host, old Gross.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A universal peal of laughter greeted these words. &quot;Countess Wildenau,
+for lack of an escort, obliged to wander about with an old
+stone-cutter!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, and she availed herself of this virtuous ramble to save the life
+of a despairing girl, who very opportunely attempted to commit suicide,
+just at the time the countess was passing to rescue this precious
+prize. Now she is sitting yonder remodeling one of her charming tailor
+costumes for this last toy of her caprice. She declares that she loves
+the wench most tenderly, will never be separated from her; in short,
+she is playing the novel character of Lady Bountiful, and does not want
+to be disturbed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you see the fair orphan?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No; she protested that it would be unpleasant for the girl to expose
+herself to curious glances, so she conceals this very sensitive young
+lady from profane eyes in her sleeping room. What do you say to all
+this, Prince?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I say,&quot; replied Prince Hohenheim, an elderly gentleman with a clearly
+cut, sarcastic face, a bald forehead, and a low, but distinct
+enunciation, &quot;that a vivacious, imaginative woman is always influenced
+by the environment in which she happens to find herself. When the
+countess is in the society of scholarly people, she becomes extremely
+learned, if she is in a somewhat frivolous circle, like ours, she
+grows--not exactly frivolous, but full of sparkling wit, and here,
+among these devout enthusiasts, Her Highness wishes to play the part of
+a Stylite. Let us indulge her, it won't last long, a lady's whim must
+never be thwarted. <i>Ce que femme veut, Dieu le veut!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has the countess also made a vow to fast?&quot; asked Count Cossigny of the
+Austrian Embassy, and therefore briefly called 'Austria,' &quot;could we not
+dine together?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, she told me that she would not leave the beloved suicide alone a
+moment at present, and therefore she intended to dine at home.
+Yesterday she shuddered at the bare thought of drinking a cup of tea
+made in that witch's kitchen, and only the fact that my valet prepared
+it and I drank it first in her presence finally induced her, at ten
+o'clock last evening, to accept the refreshment. And to-day she will
+eat a dinner prepared by the ladies of the house. There must really be
+something dangerous in the air of Ammergau!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To persons of the countess' temperament, yes!&quot; replied Prince
+Hohenheim in his calm manner, then slipping his arm through the
+prince's a moment, whispered confidentially, as they walked on: &quot;I
+advise you, Prince Emil, to get her away as soon as possible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, all the arrangements are made. We shall start directly
+after the performance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is fortunate. To-morrow, then! You have tickets?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh yes, and what is still better, whole bones.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's true,&quot; cried Austria, &quot;what a crowd! One might think Sarah
+Bernhardt was going to play the Virgin Mary.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's ridiculous! I haven't seen such a spectacle since the Paris
+Exposition!&quot; remarked St. Génois.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's worse than Baden-Baden at the time of the races,&quot; muttered
+Wengenrode, angrily. &quot;Absurd, what brings the people here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, <i>we</i> are here, too,&quot; said Hohenheim, smiling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Mon Dieu</i>, it must be seen once, if people are in the neighborhood,&quot;
+observed Cossigny.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you going directly after the performance, too?&quot; asked Prince Emil.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of course, what is there to do here? No gaming--no ladies' society,
+and just think, the burgomaster of Ammergau will allow neither a circus
+nor any other ordinary performance. He was offered <i>forty thousand
+marks</i> by the proprietor of the Circus Rouannet, if he would permit him
+to give performances during the Passion Play! Mademoiselle Rouannet
+told me so herself. Do you suppose that obstinate, stiff-necked
+Philistine could be persuaded? No, it was not in harmony with the
+dignity of the Passion Play. He preferred to refuse the 40,000 marks.
+The Salon Klüber wanted to put up an elegant merry-go-round and offered
+12,000 marks for the privilege. Heaven forbid!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I believe these people have the mania of ambition,&quot; said Wengenrode.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Say rather of <i>saintship</i>,' corrected Prince Hohenheim.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Aye, they all consider themselves the holy personages whom they
+represent. We need only look at this arrogant burgomaster, and the
+gentleman who personates Christ, to understand what these people
+imagine themselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All joined in the laugh which followed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; said Wengenrode, &quot;and the Roman procurator, Pilate, who is a
+porter or a messenger and so drags various loads about, carried up my
+luggage to-day and dropped my dressing case containing a number of
+breakable jars and boxes. 'Stupid blockhead!' I exclaimed, angrily. He
+straightened himself and looked at me with an expression which actually
+embarrassed me. 'My name is <i>Thomas Rendner</i>, sir! I beg your pardon
+for my awkwardness, and am ready to make your loss good, so far as my
+means shall allow.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now tell me, isn't that sheer hallucination of grandeur?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some of the gentlemen laughed, but Prince Emil and Hohenheim were
+silent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where shall we go to-morrow evening in Munich to recompense ourselves
+for this boredom?&quot; asked Cossigny.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To the Casino, I think!&quot; said the prince.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then we'll all meet there, shall we?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The party assented.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Provided that the countess has no commands for us,&quot; observed St.
+Génois.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She will not have any,&quot; said the prince, &quot;for either the Play will
+produce an absurd impression which is not to be expected, and then she
+will feel ashamed and unwilling to grant us our triumph because we
+predicted it, or her sentimental mood will draw from this farce a sweet
+poison of emotion, and in that case we shall be too frivolous for her!
+This must first be allowed to exhale.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very true,&quot; Hohenheim assented. &quot;You are just the man to cope with
+this capricious beauty, Prince Emil. Adieu! May you prosper!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The gentlemen raised their hats.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Farewell!&quot; said Cossigny, &quot;by the way, I'll make a suggestion. We
+shall best impress the countess while in this mood, by our generosity;
+let us heap coals of fire on her head by sending a telegram to the
+court-gardener to convert the whole palace into a floral temple to
+welcome her return. It will touch a mysterious chord of sympathy if she
+meets only these mute messengers of our adoration. When on entering she
+finds this surprise and remembers how basely she treated us this
+morning, her heart will be touched and she will invite us to dine the
+day after to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A capital plan,&quot; cried Wengenrode and St. Génois, gaily. &quot;Do your
+Highnesses agree?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly,&quot; replied Hohenheim, with formal courtesy, &quot;when the point
+in question is a matter of gallantry, a Hohenheim is never backward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I beg to be allowed to contribute also, but <i>incognito</i>. She would
+regard such an attention from me as a piece of sentimentality, and it
+would produce just the contrary effect,&quot; Prince Emil answered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As you please.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let us go to the telegraph office!&quot; cried Wengenrode, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Farewell, gentlemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Au revoir</i>, Prince Emil! Are you going to return to the lionesses'
+den?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can you ask?&quot; questioned Hohenheim with a significant smile.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then early to-morrow morning at the Play, and at night the Casino,
+don't forget!&quot; Cossigny called back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The gentlemen, laughing and chatting, strolled down the street to their
+lodgings. The prince watched them a moment, turned, and went back to
+the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot really be vexed with her, if these associates do not satisfy
+her,&quot; he thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Should I desire her to become my wife, if they did? Certainly not. Yet
+if women only would not rush from one extreme to another? Hohenheim is
+perfectly right, she ought not to stay here too long, she must go
+to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had reached the house and entered the neglected old garden where
+huge gnarled fruit trees, bearing small, stunted fruit, interlaced
+their branches above a crooked bench. There, in the midst of the rank
+grass and weeds, sat the countess, her beautiful head resting against
+the mouldy bark of the old trunk, gazing thoughtfully at the luminous
+mountains gleaming in the distance through the tangled boughs and
+shrubbery.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From the adjoining garden of the sculptor Zwink, whose site was
+somewhat higher, a Diana carved in white stone gazed curiously across,
+seeming as if she wished to say to the pensive lady who at that moment
+herself resembled a statue: &quot;Art will create gods for you
+<i>everywhere</i>!&quot; But the temptation had no effect, the countess seemed to
+have had no luck with these gods, she no longer believed in them!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, Countess Madeleine, did the light and air lure you out of
+doors?&quot; asked the prince, joyfully approaching her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I could not bear to stay there any longer. Herr Gross' daughters
+are finishing the dress. We will dine here, Prince; the meal can be
+served on a table near the house, under a wild-grape vine arbor. We can
+wait on ourselves for one day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For <i>one</i> day!&quot; repeated the prince with great relief; &quot;oh yes, it can
+be managed for one day.&quot; Thank Heaven, she had no intention of staying
+here.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Prince, see how beautiful, how glorious it is!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Beautiful, glorious? Pardon me, but I see nothing to call forth words
+you so rarely use! You must have narrowed your demands if, after the
+view of the wondrous garden of the Isola Bella and all the Italian
+villas, you suddenly take delight in cabbage-stalks, wild-pears, broom,
+and colt's foot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now see how you talk again!&quot; replied the countess, unpleasantly
+affected by his words. &quot;Does not Spinoza say: 'Everything is beautiful,
+and as I lose myself in the observation of its beauty, my pleasure in
+life is increased.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That has not been your motto hitherto. You have usually found
+something to criticise in every object. It seems to me that you have
+wearied of the beautiful and now, by way of a change, find even
+<i>ugliness</i> fair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very true, my friend. I am satisfied, nothing charms me, nothing
+satisfies me, not even the loveliest scene, because I always apply to
+everything the standard of perfection, and nothing attains it.&quot; She
+shook herself suddenly as if throwing off a burden. &quot;This must not
+continue, the æsthetic intolerance which poisoned every pleasure must
+end, I will cast aside the whole load of critical analysis and academic
+ideas of beauty, and snap my fingers at the ghosts of Winckelmann and
+Lessing. Here in the kitchen-garden, among cabbage-stalks and colt's
+foot, wild-pear and plum-trees, fanned by the fresh, crystal-clear air
+of the lofty mountains, whose glaciers shimmer with a bluish light
+through the branches, in the silence and solitude, I suddenly find it
+beautiful; beautiful because I am happy, because I am only a human
+being, free from every restraint, thinking nothing, feeling nothing
+save the peace of nature, the delight of this repose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She rested her feet comfortably on the bench and, with her head thrown
+back, gazed with a joyous expression into the blue air which, after the
+rain, arched above the earth like a crystal bell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This mood did not quite please the prince. He was exclusively a man of
+the world. His thoughts were ruled by the laws of the most rigid logic,
+whatever was not logically attainable had no existence for him; his
+enthusiasm reached the highest pitch only in the enjoyment of the
+noblest products of art and science. He did not comprehend how any one
+could weary of them, even for a moment, on the one side because his
+calm temperament did not, like the countess' passionate one, exhaust
+everything by following it to its inmost core, and he was thus guarded
+from satiety; on the other because he wholly lacked appreciation of
+nature and her unconscious grandeur. He was the trained vassal of
+custom in the conventional, as well as in every other province. The
+countess, however, possessed some touch of that doctrine of divine
+right which is ready, at any moment, to cast off the bonds of tradition
+and artificial models and obey the impulse of kinship with sovereign
+nature. This was the boundary across which he could not follow her, and
+he was perfectly aware of it, for he had one of those proud characters
+which disdain to deceive themselves concerning their own powers. Yet it
+filled him with grave anxiety.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What are you thinking of now, Prince?&quot; asked his companion, noticing
+his gloomy mood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That I have not seen you so contented for months, and yet I am unable
+to understand the cause of this satisfaction. Especially when I
+remember what it usually requires to bring a smile of pleasure to your
+lips.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear me, must everything be understood?&quot; cried the beautiful woman,
+laughing; &quot;there is the pedant again! Must we be perpetually under
+the curb of self-control and give ourselves an account whether
+what we feel in a moment of happiness is sensible and authorized?
+Must we continually see ourselves reflected in the mirror of our
+self-consciousness, and never draw a veil over our souls and permit God
+to have one undiscovered secret in them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince silently kissed her hand. His eyes now expressed deep,
+earnest feeling, and stirred by emotion, she laid her other hand upon
+his head:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are a noble-hearted man, Prince; though some unspoken,
+uncomprehended idea stands between us, I know your feelings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again the rose and the thorn! It was always so! At the very moment her
+soft, sweet hand touched him caressingly, she thrust a dagger into his
+heart. Aye, that was the continual &quot;misunderstanding&quot; which existed
+between them, the thorn in the every rose she proffered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Women like these are only tolerable when they really love; when a
+powerful feeling makes them surrender themselves completely. Where this
+is not the case, they are, unconsciously and involuntarily, malicious,
+dangerous creatures, caressing and slaying at the same moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">First, woe betide the man whom <i>they believe</i> they love. For how often
+such beings are mistaken in their feelings!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Such delusions do not destroy the woman, she often experiences them,
+but the man who has shared them with her! Alas for him who has not kept
+a cool head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince was standing with his back turned to the street, gazing
+thoughtfully at the beautiful woman with the fathomless, sparkling
+eyes. Suddenly he saw her start and flush. Turning with the speed of
+lightning, he followed the direction of her glance, but saw nothing
+except the figure of a man of unusual height, with long black hair,
+pass swiftly around the corner and disappear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you know that gentleman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; replied the countess frankly, &quot;he is the person whom I saw
+yesterday as we drove up the mountain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon the indiscretion, but you blushed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I felt it, but I don't know why,&quot; she answered with an almost
+artless innocence in her gaze. The prince could not help smiling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Countess, Countess!&quot; he said, shaking his finger at her as if she were
+a child. &quot;Guard your imagination; it will prove a traitor some day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, as if with a sweet consciousness of guilt, drew down the
+uplifted hand with a movement of such indescribable grace that no one
+could have remained angry with her. The prince knelt at her feet an
+instant, not longer than a blade of grass requires to bend before the
+breeze and rise again, then he stood erect, somewhat paler than before,
+but perfectly calm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll go in and tell my valet to serve our dinner here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you please, Prince,&quot; replied the lady, gazing absently down the
+street.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Andreas Gross entered the garden. &quot;Everything is settled, Your
+Highness. I have talked with Josepha's relatives and guardian and they
+will be very glad to have you take her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All, even the Christ-Freyer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, there is no objection.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had expected something more and looked at the old man as if for the
+rest of the message, but he added nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ought not Freyer to come here, in order to discuss the particulars
+with me?&quot; she asked at last, almost timidly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, he goes to see no one, as I told you, and he surely would not
+come to speak of Josepha, for he is ashamed of her. He says that
+whatever you do will be satisfactory to him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well,&quot; replied the countess, in a somewhat disappointed tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What a comical tête-à-tête!&quot; a laughing voice suddenly exclaimed
+behind the fence. The countess started up, but it was too late for
+escape; she was caught.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A lady, young and elegantly dressed, accompanied by two older ones,
+eagerly rushed up to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear Countess, why have you hidden yourself here at the farthest
+corner of the village? We have searched all Ammergau for you. Your
+coat-of-arms on the carriage and your liveries at the old post-house
+betrayed you. Yes, yes, when people want to travel <i>incognito</i>, they
+must not journey with genuine Wildenau elegance. We were more cautious.
+We came in a modest hired conveyance. But what a life this is! I was
+obliged to sleep on straw last night. Hear and shudder! On <i>straw</i>! Did
+you have a bed? You have been here since yesterday?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, Your Highness, pray take breath! Good morning, Baroness! Good
+morning, Your Excellency!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess von Wildenau greeted all the ladies somewhat absently, yet
+very cordially. &quot;Will you condescend to sit on this bench?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, you must sit here, too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, It is not large enough, I am already seated.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had taken her seat on the root of a tree, with her face turned
+toward the street, in which she seemed to be deeply interested. The
+ladies were accommodated on the bench, and then followed a conversation
+which no pen could describe. This, that, and the other thing, matters
+to which the countess had not given a single thought, an account of
+everything the new comers had heard about the Ammergau people, the
+appearance of the Christ, whom they had already met, a handsome man,
+very handsome, with magnificent hair, and mysterious eyes--not the head
+of Christ, but rather as one would imagine Faust or Odin; but there was
+no approaching him, he was so unsociable. Such a pity, it would have
+been so interesting to talk with him. Rumor asserted that he was in
+love with a noble lady; it was very possible, there was no other way of
+explaining his distant manner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Countess von Wildenau had become very quiet, the eyes bent upon the
+street had an expression of actual suffering in their depths.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince Emil stood in the doorway, mischievously enjoying the situation.
+It was a just punishment for her capricious whims that now, after
+having so insolently refused to see her friends, she should be
+compelled to listen to this senseless chatter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last, however, he took pity on her and sent out his valet with the
+table-cloth and plates.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, it is your dinner hour!&quot; The ladies started up and Her Highness
+raised her lorgnette.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, Prince Emil's valet! So the faithful Toggenburg is with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, ladies!&quot; said a voice from the door, as the prince came
+forward. &quot;Only I was too timid to venture into such a dangerous
+circle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Peals of laughter greeted him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes; the Prince of Metten-Barnheim timid!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At present I am merely the representative of Countess Wildenau's
+discharged courier, whose office, with my usual devotion, I am trying
+to fill, and doing everything in my power to escape the fate of my
+predecessor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That of being sent away?&quot; asked the baroness somewhat maliciously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Countess Madeleine cast a glance of friendly reproach at him. &quot;How can
+you say such things, Prince?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your soup is growing cold!&quot; cried the duchess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where does Your Highness dine?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At the house of one of the chorus singers, where we are lodging. A man
+with the bearing of an apostle, and a blacksmith by trade. It is
+strange, all these people have a touch of ideality about them, and all
+this beautiful long hair! Haven't you walked through the village yet?
+Oh, you must, it's very odd; the people who throng around the actors in
+the Passion Play are types we shall not soon see again. I'm waiting
+eagerly for to-morrow. I hope our seats will be near. Farewell, dear
+Countess!&quot; The duchess took the arm of the prince, who escorted her to
+the garden gate. &quot;I hope you will take care that the countess, under
+the influence of the Passion, doesn't enter a convent the day after
+to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your Highness forgets that I am an incorrigible heretic,&quot; laughed
+Madeleine Wildenau, kissing the two ladies in waiting, in her absence
+of mind, with a tenderness which they were at a loss to understand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince accompanied the ladies a short distance away from the house,
+while Madeleine returned to Josepha, as if seeking in the society of
+the sorrowful, quiet creature, rest from the noisy conversation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Really, Countess von Wildenau has an over-supply of blessings. This
+magnificent widow's dower, the almost boundless revenue from the
+Wildenau estates, and a host of suitors!&quot; said the baroness, after the
+prince had taken leave to return to &quot;his idol.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, but she will lose the revenue if she marries again,&quot; replied the
+duchess. &quot;The will was made in that way by Count Wildenau because his
+jealousy extended beyond the grave. I know all the particulars. She
+must either remain a widow or make a <i>very</i> brilliant match; for a
+woman of her temperament could <i>never</i> accommodate herself to more
+modest circumstances.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So she is not a good match?&quot; asked Her Excellency.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly not, for the will is so worded that on the day she exchanges
+the name of Wildenau for another, the estates, with the whole income,
+go to a side branch of the Wildenau family as there are no direct
+heirs. It is enough to make one hate him, for the Wildenau cousins are
+extravagant and avaricious men who have already squandered one fortune.
+The poor countess will then have nothing except her personal property,
+her few diamonds, and whatever gifts she received from her husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has she no private fortune?&quot; asked the baroness, curiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You know that she was a Princess Prankenburg, and the financial
+affairs of the Prankenburg family are very much embarrassed. That is
+why the beautiful young girl was sacrificed at seventeen to that
+horrible old Wildenau, who in return was forced to pay her father's
+debts,&quot; the duchess explained.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, so <i>that's</i> the way the matter stands!&quot; said Her Excellency,
+drawing a long breath. &quot;Do her various admirers know it? All the
+gentlemen undoubtedly believe her to be immensely rich.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, she makes no secret of these facts,&quot; replied the duchess kindly.
+&quot;She is sincere, that must be acknowledged, and she endured a great
+deal with her nervous old husband. We all know what he was; every one
+feared him and he tyrannized over his wife. What was all her wealth and
+splendor to her? One ought not to grudge her a taste of happiness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She laid aside her widow's weeds as soon as possible. People thought
+that very suspicious,&quot; observed the baroness in no friendly tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is exactly why I say: she is better than her reputation, because
+she scorns falsehood and hypocrisy,&quot; replied the duchess, leading the
+way across a narrow bridge. The two ladies in waiting, lingering a
+little behind, whispered: &quot;<i>She</i> scorn falsehood and deception! Why,
+Your Excellency, her whole nature is treachery. She cannot exist a
+moment without acting some farce! With the pious she is pious, with the
+Liberals she plays the Liberal, she coquets with every party to
+maintain her influence as ex-ambassadress. She cannot cease intriguing
+and plotting. Now she is once more assuming the part of youthful
+artlessness to bewitch this Prince Emil. Did you see that look of
+embarrassment just now, like a young girl? It is enough to make one
+ill!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, just see how she has duped that handsome, clever prince, the heir
+of a reigning family, too,&quot; lamented Her Excellency, who had daughters.
+&quot;It is a shocking affair, he is seen everywhere with her; and yet there
+is no report of a betrothal! What do the men find in her? She
+captivates them all, young and old, there is no difference.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And she is no longer even <i>beautiful</i>. She has faded, lost all her
+freshness, it is nothing but coquetry!&quot; answered the baroness hastily,
+for the duchess had stopped and was waiting for the ladies to overtake
+her. So they walked on in the direction of the Passion Theatre where,
+on the morrow, they were to behold the God of Love, for whose sake they
+made this pious pilgrimage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were rightly served, Countess Madeleine,&quot; said the prince
+laughing, as they took their seats at the table. &quot;You sent away your
+true friends and fell into the hands of these false ones.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The duchess is not false,&quot; answered the countess with a weary look,
+&quot;she is noble in thought and act.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Like all who are in a position where they need envy no one,&quot; said the
+prince, pushing aside with his spoon certain little islands of doubtful
+composition which were floating in the soup. &quot;But believe me, with
+these few exceptions, no one save men, deals sincerely with an admired
+woman. Women of the ordinary stamp cannot repress their envy. I should
+not like to hear what is being said of us by these friends on their way
+home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What does it matter?&quot; answered his companion, leaving her soup
+untasted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Our poor diplomatic corps, which had anticipated so much pleasure in
+seeing you,&quot; the prince began again. &quot;I would almost like to ask you a
+favor, Countess!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That you will invite us to dine day after to-morrow. The gentlemen
+have resolved to avenge themselves nobly by offering you an ovation on
+your return to Munich to-morrow evening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed, what is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I ought not to betray the secret, but I know that you do not like
+surprises. The Wildenau palace will be transformed into a temple of
+flowers. Everything is already ordered, it is to be matchless, fairy
+like!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The speaker was secretly watching the impression made by his words; he
+must get her away from this place at any cost! The mysterious figure
+which had just called to her cheeks a flush for whose sake he would
+have sacrificed years of his life, then he had noticed--nothing escaped
+his keen eye and ear--her annoyed, almost jealous expression when the
+ladies spoke of the &quot;raven-locked&quot; Christ and his love for some
+high-born dame. She must leave this place ere the whim gained a firm
+hold. The worthy peasant-performer might not object to the admiration
+of noble ladies, a pinchback theatre-saint would hardly resist a
+Countess Wildenau, if she should choose to make him the object of an
+eccentric caprice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is very touching in the gentlemen,&quot; said the countess; &quot;let us
+anticipate them and invite them to dine the day after to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, there spoke my charming friend, now I am content with you. Will
+you permit me, at the close of this luxurious meal, to carry the joyous
+tidings to the gentlemen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do so,&quot; she answered carelessly. &quot;And when you have delivered the
+invitation, would you do me the favor to telegraph to my steward?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly.&quot; He pushed back the plate containing an unpalatable cutlet
+and drew out his note-book to make a memorandum.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What shall I write?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<span class="sc">Steward Geres</span>, Wildenau Palace, Munich.--Day after to-morrow, Monday,
+Dinner at 6 o'clock, 12 plates, 15 courses,&quot; dictated the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There, that is settled. But, Countess, twelve persons! Whom do you
+intend to invite?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When I return the duchess' visit I will ask the three ladies, then
+Prince Hohenheim and Her Excellency's two daughters will make twelve.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But that will be terribly wearisome to the neighbors of Her
+Excellency's daughters.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, still it can't be helped, I must give the poor girls a chance to
+make their fortune! With the exception of Prince Hohenheim, you are all
+in the market!&quot; she said smiling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No one could speak so proudly save a Countess Wildenau, who knows that
+every other woman only serves as a foil,&quot; replied the prince, kissing
+her hand with a significant smile. She was remarkably gracious that
+day; she permitted her hand to rest in his, there was a shade of
+apology in her manner. Apology for what? He had no occasion to ponder
+long--she was ashamed of having neglected a trusted friend for a
+chimera, a nightmare, which had assumed the form of a man with
+mysterious black eyes and floating locks. The ladies' stories of the
+love affairs of the presumptive owner of these locks had destroyed the
+dream and broken the spell of the nightmare.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Admirable, it had happened very opportunely.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But, Countess, the gentlemen will be disappointed, if the ladies,
+also, come. Would it not be much pleasanter without them? You are far
+more charming and entertaining when you are the only lady present at
+our little smoking parties.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We can have one later. The ladies will leave at ten. Then you others
+can remain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And who will be sent away <i>next</i>, when you are wearied by this <i>après
+soirée</i>? Who will be allowed to linger on a few minutes and smoke the
+last cigarette with you?&quot; he added, coaxingly. He looked very handsome
+at that moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We shall see,&quot; replied the countess, and for the first time her voice
+thrilled with a warmer emotion. Her hand still rested in his, she had
+forgotten to withdraw it. Suddenly its warmth roused her, and his blue
+eyes flashed upon her a light as brilliant as the indiscreet glare
+which sometimes rouses a sleeper.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She released it, and as the dinner was over, rose from the little
+table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you go with me to call on the duchess later?&quot; she asked. &quot;If so,
+I will dress now, while you give the invitation to the gentlemen, and
+you can return afterward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As you choose!&quot; replied the prince in an altered tone, for the slight
+variation in the lady's mood had not escaped his notice. &quot;In half an
+hour, then. Farewell!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">CHAPTER VI.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE EVENING BEFORE THE PLAY</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha sat in the countess' room at work on her new dress.
+She was
+calm and quiet; the delight in finery which never abandons a woman to
+her latest hour--the poorest peasant, if still conscious, asks for a
+nicer cap when the priest comes to bring the last sacrament--had
+asserted its power in her. The countess noticed it with pleasure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Shall you finish it soon, Josepha?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In an hour, Your Highness!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, I shall return about that time, and then we'll try the
+dress on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, your ladyship, it's a sin for me to put on such a handsome gown,
+nobody will see me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not here, if you don't wish them to do so, but to-morrow evening we
+shall go to Munich, where you will begin a new life, with no brand upon
+your brow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha kissed the countess' hand; a few large tears rolled down on the
+dress which was to clothe a new creature. Then she helped her mistress
+to put on a walking toilette, performing her task skillfully and
+quickly. The latter fixed a long, thoughtful look upon her. &quot;You are
+somewhat like your cousin, the Christ, are you not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So people say!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I suppose he sees a great many ladies?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They all run after him, the high as well as the low. And it isn't the
+strangers only, the village girls are crazy over him, too. He might
+have <i>any</i> one he wanted, it seems as if he fairly bewitched the
+women.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I heard that the reason for his secluded life was that he had a love
+affair with some noble lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed?&quot; said Josepha carelessly, &quot;I don't know anything about it. I
+don't believe it, though he would not tell me, even if it were true.
+Oh, people talk about him so much, that's one reason for the envy. But
+his secluded life isn't on account of any noble lady! He has had
+nothing to say to anybody here since they refused to let me take part
+in the Play and gossiped so much about me. Though he doesn't speak of
+it, it cuts him to the heart. Alas, I am to blame, and no one else.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Countess Wildenau, obeying a sudden impulse, kissed the girl on the
+forehead: &quot;Farewell, keep up courage, don't weep, rejoice in your new
+life; I will soon return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As she passed out, she spoke to the Gross sisters commending Josepha to
+their special care.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The gentlemen are delighted, and send you their most grateful homage,&quot;
+called the prince.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then they are all coming?&quot; said Countess Wildenau, taking his arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All, there was no hesitation!&quot; he answered, again noticing in his
+companion's manner the restlessness which had formerly awakened his
+anxiety. As they passed down the street together, her eyes were
+wandering everywhere.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She is seeking some one,&quot; thought the prince.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let me tell you that I am charmed with this Ammergau Christ,&quot; cried
+the duchess, as they approached the blacksmith's house. She was
+sitting in the garden, which contained a tolerably large manure
+heap, a &quot;Saletl,&quot; the name given to an open summer-house, and three
+fruit-trees, amid which the clothes lines were stretched. On the house
+was a rudely painted Madonna, life-size, with the usual bunch of
+flowers, gazing with a peculiar expression at the homage offered to her
+son, or at least, so it seemed to the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you seen him, Duchess? I am beginning to be jealous!&quot; said the
+countess with a laugh intended to be natural, but which sounded a
+little forced.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The visitors entered the arbor; after an exchange of greeting, the
+duchess told her guests that she had been with the ladies to the
+drawing-school, where they had met Freyer. The head-master (the son of
+Countess von Wildenau's host) had presented him to the ladies, and he
+had been obliged to exchange a few words with them, then he made his
+escape. They were &quot;fairly <i>wild</i>.&quot; His bearing, his dignity, the
+blended courtesy and reserve of his manner, so modest and yet so proud,
+and those eyes!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince was on coals of fire.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The blacksmith was hammering outside, shoeing a horse whose hoof was so
+crooked that the iron would not fit. The man's face was dripping with
+sooty perspiration, yet when he turned it toward the ladies, they saw a
+classic profile and soft, dreamy eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Beautiful hair and eyes appear to be a specialty among the Ammergau
+peasants,&quot; said the prince somewhat abruptly, interrupting the duchess.
+&quot;Look at yonder smith, wash off the soot and we shall have a superb
+head of Antinous.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, isn't that true? He is a splendid fellow, too,&quot; replied the
+duchess. &quot;Let us call him here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The smith was summoned and, wiping the grime from his face with his
+shirt sleeves, modestly approached. The prince watched with honest
+admiration the man's gait and bearing, clear-cut, intelligent features,
+and slender, lithe figure, which betrayed no sign of his hard labor
+save in the tense sinews and muscles of the arms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must apologize,&quot; he said in excellent German--the Ammergau people
+use dialect only when speaking to one another--&quot;I am in my working
+clothes and scarcely fit to be seen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have a charming voice. Do you sing baritone?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Your Highness, but I rarely sing at all. My voice unfortunately
+is much injured by my hard toil, and my fingers are growing too stiff
+to play on the piano, so I cannot accompany myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you play on the piano?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, Your Highness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens, where did you learn?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here in the village, Your Highness. Each one of us learns to use some
+instrument, else where should we obtain an orchestra for the Passion?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Think of it!&quot; said the duchess in French, &quot;A blacksmith who plays on
+the piano; peasants who form an orchestra!&quot; Then addressing her host in
+German, she added, &quot;I suppose you have a church choir!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, Your Highness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And what masses do you perform?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, nearly all the beautiful ones, some dating from the ancient
+Cecilian Church music, others from the later masters, Handel, Bach,
+down to the most modern times. A short time ago I sung Gounod's Ave
+Maria in the church, and this winter we shall give a Gethsemane by
+Kempter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it possible!&quot; said the duchess, &quot;<i>c'est unique!</i> Then you are
+really all artists and ought not to follow such hard trades.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Duchess, but we must <i>live</i>. Our wives and children must be
+supported. <i>All</i> cannot be wood-carvers, smiths are needed, too. If the
+artisan is not rough, the trade is no disgrace.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But have you time, with your business, for such artistic work?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes, we do it in the evenings, after supper. We meet at half past
+seven and often practise our music till twelve or even one o'clock.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, how tired you must be to study far into the night after the labor
+of the day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, that doesn't harm us, it is our recreation and pleasure. Art is
+the only thing which lifts men above their daily cares! I would not
+wish to live, if I did not possess it, and we all have the same
+feeling.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The ladies exchanged glances.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But, when do you sleep? You must be obliged to rise early in the
+morning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, we Ammergau people are excitable, we need little sleep. To bed at
+one and up at five gives us rest enough.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then, you must live well, or you could not bear it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, we live very well, we have meat every Sunday,&quot; said the smith
+with much satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>C'est touchant!</i>&quot; cried the duchess. &quot;Meat <i>once</i> a week? And the
+rest of the time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, we eat something made of flour. My wife is an excellent cook, she
+was the cook in Count P.'s household!&quot; he added with great pride,
+casting an affectionate glance at the plump little woman, holding a
+child in her arms, standing at the door of the house. He would gladly
+have presented this admirable wife to the strangers, but the ladies
+seemed less interested in her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you eat in the evening?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We have coffee at six o'clock, and drink a few glasses of beer when we
+meet at the tavern.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And do all the Ammergau people live so?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All. No one wants anything different.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Even your Christ?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, he fares worse than we, he is unmarried and has no one to care for
+him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What a life, dear Countess, what a life!&quot; the duchess, murmured in
+French.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But you have a piano in your house. If you are able to get such an
+instrument, you ought to afford better food,&quot; said Her Excellency.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The blacksmith smiled, &quot;If we had had better food, we should not have
+been able to buy the piano. We saved it from our stomachs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is the true Ammergau spirit,&quot; said the countess earnestly. &quot;They
+will starve to secure a piano. Every endeavor is toward the ideal and
+the intellectual, for which they are willing to make any personal
+sacrifice. I have never seen such people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nor have I. It seems as if the Passion Play gave them all a special
+consecration,&quot; answered the duchess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Countess von Wildenau rose. Her thoughts were so far away that she was
+about to take leave without remembering her invitation. But Prince Emil
+said impressively:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Countess, surely you are forgetting that you intended to <i>invite</i> the
+ladies--.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; she interrupted, &quot;it had almost escaped my mind.&quot; The smith
+modestly went back to his work, for the horse was growing restless, and
+the odor of burnt horn and hair soon pervaded the atmosphere.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Meanwhile the countess delivered her invitation, which was accepted
+with great enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A stately, athletic man in a blouse, carrying a chest on his shoulder,
+passed the ladies. The burden was terribly heavy, for even his
+powerful, well-knit frame staggered under it, and his handsome kingly
+head was bowed almost to the earth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Look, Countess, that is Thomas Rendner the Roman procurator. We shall
+soon make the acquaintance of the whole company. We sit here in the
+summer-house like a spider in its web, not a fly can pass unseen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens, that Pilate!&quot; exclaimed the countess, watching him with
+sympathizing eyes, &quot;Poor man, to-day panting under an oppressive
+burden, to-morrow robed in purple and crowned with a diadem, only to
+exchange them again on the third day, for the porter's dusty blouse,
+and take the yoke upon himself once more. What a contrast, and yet he
+loses neither his balance nor his temper! Indeed I think that we can
+learn as much here outside of the Passion Play, as from the spectacle
+itself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, if we watch with your deep, thoughtful eyes, my dear Countess!&quot;
+said the duchess, kissing the speaker's brow. &quot;We will discuss this
+subject farther when we drive with you the day after to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The ladies parted. Madeleine von Wildenau, leaning on the prince's arm,
+walked silently through the crowd which now, on the eve of the play,
+thronged the narrow streets. The din and tumult were enough to deprive
+one of sight and hearing. Dazed by the confusion, she clung closely to
+her companion's arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens, is it possible that Christianity still possesses such a
+power of attraction!&quot; she murmured, involuntarily, while struggling
+through the throng.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The ground in the Ettal road trembled under the roll of carriage
+wheels. The last evening train had arrived, and a flood of people and
+vehicles poured into the village already almost crushed beneath the
+tide of human beings. Horses half driven to death, dragging at a gallop
+heavy landaus crowded with six or eight persons. Lumbering wagons
+containing twenty or thirty travellers just as they had climbed in,
+sometimes half clinging to the steps or the boxes of the wheels, swayed
+to and fro; intoxicated, excited by the mad rush and the fear of being
+left behind--raging and shrieking like a horde of unchained fiends come
+to disturb the sacred drama rather than pious pilgrims who wished to
+witness it, the frantic mob poured in. &quot;<i>Sauve qui peut</i>&quot; was the
+motto, the prince lifted the countess on a small post by the roadside.
+Just at that moment the fire-brigade marched by to watch the theatre.
+It was said that several of the neighboring parishes, envious of
+Ammergau, had threatened to ruin the Play by setting the theatre on
+fire. Fire engines and strangers' carriages passed pell-mell. The
+people of Ammergau themselves, alarmed and enraged by the cruel threat,
+were completely disconcerted; passionate discussions, vehement
+commands, and urgent entreaties were heard on all sides. Prompt and
+energetic action was requisite, the fate of all Ammergau was at stake.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The bells now began to ring and at the same moment the first of the
+twenty-five cannon shots which were to consecrate the morrow's festival
+was discharged, and the musicians passed through the streets.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The air fairly quivered with the deafening uproar of all these mingling
+waves of sound. Darkness was gathering, the countess grew giddy, she
+felt as if she were stifling in the tumult. A pair of horses fell just
+below them, causing a break in the line of carriages, which the prince
+used to get his companion across, and she at last reached home, almost
+fainting. Her soul was stirred to its inmost depths. What was the power
+which produced such effects?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Was this the calm, petty doctrine, which had been inculcated so
+theoretically and coldly at the school-room desk and from the pulpit,
+and with which, when a child, she has been disgusted by an
+incomprehensible school-catechism? Was this the doctrine which, from
+earliest childhood, had been nothing more than a wearisome dead letter,
+to which, as it had become the religion of the state, an official visit
+to church was due from time to time, just as, on certain days, cards
+were left on ambassadors and government officials?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The wind still bore from the village the noise of the throngs of
+people, the ringing of the bells, and the thunder of the cannon,
+blended with occasional bursts of music. The countess had had similar
+experiences when tidings of great victories had been received during
+the last war, but those were <i>facts</i>. For the first time in her life
+she asked herself if Christianity was a fact? And if not, if it was
+only an idea, what inherent power, after the lapse of nearly two
+thousand years, produced such an effect?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Why did all these people come--why did she <i>herself</i>? The human race is
+homesick, it no longer knows for what; it is only a vague impulse, but
+one which instinctively draws it in the direction where it perceives a
+sign, a vestige of what it has lost and forever seeks. Such, she knows
+it now, such is the feeling of all the throngs that have flocked hither
+to-day, she realized that at this moment she was a microcosm of weary,
+wandering mankind seeking for salvation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And as when, deceived and disappointed in everything, we seek the
+picture of some dead friend, long since forgotten, and press it weeping
+to our lips, she clung to the image of the Redeemer. Now that
+everything had deluded her, no system which had boastfully promised a
+victory over calamity and death had stood the test, after one makeshift
+had supplanted another without supplying what was lacking, after all
+the vaunted remedies of philosophy and materialism proved mere
+palliatives which make the evil endurable for the moment but do not
+heal it, suffering, cheated humanity was suddenly seeking the image of
+the lost friend so long forgotten. But a dead friend cannot come forth
+from a picture, a painted heart can no longer beat. Could <i>Christ</i> rise
+again in His image? Could <i>His</i> word live once more on the lips of a
+stranger? And would the drops of artificial blood, trickling from the
+brow of the personified Messiah, possess redeeming power?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That was the miracle which attracted the throngs from far and near,
+<i>that</i> must be the marvel, and tomorrow it would be revealed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of what are you dreaming, Countess Madeleine?&quot; asked the prince after
+a pause which she had spent in the wild-grape arbor near the house
+gazing into vacancy, with her head resting on her hand. She looked up,
+glancing at him as if she had entirely forgotten his presence. &quot;I don't
+know what is the cause of my emotion, the tumult in the village has
+stirred me deeply! I feel that only potent things could send such a
+storm before them, and it seems as if it was the portent of some
+wonderful event!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens! What extravagant fancies, my dear Countess! I believe
+you add to all your rich gifts the dangerous one of poesy! I admire and
+honor you for it--but I can perceive in this storm nothing save a proof
+that curiosity is the greatest and most universal trait in human
+character, and that these throngs desire nothing more than the
+satisfaction of their curiosity. The affair is fashionable just now,
+and that explains the whole.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Prince, I pity you for what you have just said,&quot; replied the countess,
+rising. Her face wore the same cold, lifeless expression as on the day
+of her arrival.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But, my dearest friend, for Heavens's sake tell me, did <i>you</i> and <i>I</i>
+come from any other motive than curiosity?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You, no! I, yes!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't say that, <i>chère amie</i>. You, the scholar, superior to us all in
+learning; you, the disciple of Schopenhauer, the proud philosopher, the
+believer in Nirvâna.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I, Prince!&quot; cried the countess, &quot;The philosopher who was not
+happy for an hour, not content for a moment. What is this Nirvâna? A
+stone idol, which the fruitless speculation of our times has conjured
+from the rubbish of archæological excavations, and which stares at us
+with its vacant eyes until we fall into an intellectual hypnotism which
+we mistake for peace.&quot; An expression of bitter sarcasm rested on her
+lips. &quot;I came here to bring pessimism and Christianity face to face. I
+thought it would be very novel to see the stone idol Nirvâna, with his
+hands on his lap and the silence of eternal death on his lips, watch
+the martyr, dripping with sweat and blood, bear His own cross to the
+place of execution and cheerfully take up the work where Buddha
+faltered; on the boundary of non-existence. I wanted to see how the two
+would treat each other, if for nothing more than a comparative study of
+religion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are irresistible in your charming mockery, dearest Countess, yet
+logically I cannot confess myself conquered!&quot; replied the prince. The
+countess smiled: &quot;Of course, when did a man ever acknowledge that to a
+woman, where intellectual matters were concerned? A sunny curl, the
+seductive arch of an upper lip, a pair of blue eyes sparkling with
+tears will make you lords of creation the dupes of the most ordinary
+coquette or even the yielding toy of the dullest ignorance. We women
+all know it! But, if we assail your dry logic, you are as unconquerable
+as Antæus so long as he stood upon the earth! You, too, could only be
+vanquished by whoever had the power to lift you from the ground where
+<i>you</i> stand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You might have that power, Countess. Not by your arguments, but by
+your eyes. You know that <i>one</i> loving glance would not only lift me
+from the earth but into heaven, and then you could do with me what you
+would.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have forfeited the loving glance! Perhaps it might have <i>rewarded</i>
+your assent, but it would never <i>purchase</i> it, I scorn bribed judges,
+for I am sure of my cause!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Countess, pardon my frankness: it is a pity that you have so much
+intellect.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because it leads you into sophistical by-ways; your tendency to
+mysticism gives an apparently logical foundation and thereby
+strengthens you the more in this dangerous course. A more simple,
+temperate judgment would <i>guard</i> you from it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, Prince--&quot; she looked at him pityingly, contemptuously--&quot;may
+Heaven preserve me from <i>such</i> a judgment as well as from all who may
+seek to supply its place to me. Excuse me for this evening. I should
+like to devote an hour to these worthy people and soothe my nerves--I
+have been too much excited by the scenes we have witnessed. Goodnight,
+Prince!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince Emil turned pale. &quot;Good-night, Countess. Perhaps to-morrow you
+will be somewhat more humane in this cat and mouse game; to-day I am
+sent home with a bleeding wound.&quot; With lips firmly compressed, he bowed
+his farewell and left the garden. Madeleine looked after him: &quot;He is
+angry. I cannot help him, he deserved it. Oh, foolish man, who deemed
+yourself so clever! Do you suppose this glowing heart desires no other
+revelations than those of pure reason? Do you imagine that the
+arguments of all the philosophical systems of humanity could offer it
+that for which it longs? Shall I find it? Heaven knows! But one thing
+is certain, I shall no longer seek it in <i>you</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sound of moans and low sobs came from the chamber above the
+countess' room. It was Josepha. Countess Wildenau passed through the
+little trap-door and entered it. The girl was kneeling beside the bed,
+with her face buried in the pillows, to shut out the thunder of the
+cannon and the sound of the bells, which summoned the actors in the
+sacred Play from which she alone, the sinner, the outcast, was shut
+out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mary Magdalene, too, had sinned and erred, yet she had been suffered to
+remain near the Lord. She was permitted to touch His divine body and to
+wipe His feet with her hair! But <i>she</i> was not allowed to render this
+service to His <i>image</i>! She grasped the mass of wonderful silken locks
+which fell in loosened masses over her shoulders. What did she care for
+this beautiful hair now? She would fain cut it off and throw it into
+the Ammer or, better still, bury it in the earth, the earth on which
+the Passion Theatre stood. With a hasty movement, she snatched a pair
+of shears which lay beside the bed, and just as the countess' foot
+touched the threshold, a sharp, cutting sound was heard and the most
+beautiful red hair that ever adorned a girl's head fell like a dying
+flame at her feet. &quot;Josepha, what are you doing?&quot; cried the countess,
+&quot;Oh, what a pity to lose that magnificent hair!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do I care for it?&quot; sobbed Josepha, &quot;It can never be seen in the
+Play! When the performance is over, I will slip into the theatre before
+we leave and bury it under the stage, where the cross stands. There I
+will leave it, there it shall stay, since I am no longer able to make
+it serve Him.&quot; She threw herself into the countess' arms and hid her
+tear-stained face upon her bosom. Alas, she was not even allowed to
+appear among the populace, she alone was banished from the cross, yet
+she knew that the <i>real</i> Saviour would have suffered her to be at His
+feet as well as Mary Magdalene.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Console yourself, Josepha, your belief does not deceive you. The real
+Christ would not have punished you so cruelly. Men are always more
+severe than God. Whence should they obtain divine magnanimity, they are
+so petty. They are like a servant who is arrogant and avaricious for
+his master because he does not understand his wishes and turns from the
+door the poor whom his master would gladly have welcomed and
+refreshed.&quot; She kissed the young girl's brow. &quot;Be calm, Josepha, gather
+up your hair, you shall bury it to-morrow in the earth which is so dear
+to you. I promise that I will think of you when the other Magdalene
+appears; your shadow shall stand between her and me, so that I shall
+see you alone! Will this be a slight consolation to you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha, for the first time, looked up into the countess' eyes with a
+smile. &quot;Yes, it is a comfort. Ah, you are so kind, you take pity on me
+while all reproach and condemn me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Josepha! If people judged thus, which of us would be warranted in
+casting the first stone at you?&quot; The countess uttered the words with
+deep earnestness, and thoughtfully left the room.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">CHAPTER VII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE PASSION PLAY</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Day was dawning. The first rays of the morning sun, ever
+broader and
+brighter, were darting through the air, whose blue waves surged and
+quivered under the flaming couisers of the ascending god of day.
+Aphrodite seemed to have bathed and left her veil in the foam of the
+wild mountain stream into which the penitent Magdalene had tried to
+throw herself. Apollo in graceful sport, had gathered the little white
+clouds to conceal the goddess and they waved and fluttered merrily in
+the morning breeze around the rushing chariot. Then, as if the
+thundering hoof-beats of the fiery chargers had echoed from the vaulted
+arch of the firmament, the solemn roar of cannon announced the approach
+of the <i>other</i> god, the poor, unassuming, scourged divinity in His
+beggar-garb. The radiant charioteer above curbed his impatient steeds
+and gazed down from his serene height upon the conflict, the torturing,
+silent conflict of suffering upon the bloody battlefield of the
+timorous earth. Smiling, he shook his divine head, for he could not
+understand the cause of all this. Why should a god impose upon Himself
+such misery and humiliation! But he knows that He was a more powerful
+god, for <i>he</i> was forced to fly from the zenith when the former rose
+from His grave.--So thought Helios, glancing over at the gentle goddess
+Selene, whose wan face, paling in his presence, was turned full toward
+the earth. She could not bear to behold the harrowing spectacle, she
+was the divinity of peace and slumber, so, averting her mild
+countenance, she bade Helios farewell and floated away to happier
+realms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Blest gods, ye who sit throned in eternal beauty, eternal peace; ye who
+are untouched by the grief and suffering of the human race, who descend
+to earth merely to taste the joys of mortals when it pleases ye to add
+them to your divine delights, look down upon the gods whom sorrowing
+humanity, laden with the primeval curse, summoned from his heaven to
+aid, where none of ye aided, to give what none of ye gave, <i>the heart's
+blood of love!</i> Gaze from your selfish pleasures, ye gay Hellenic
+deities, behold from your Valhalla, grim divinities of the Norsemen,
+look hither, ye dull, stupid idols of ancient India, hither where, from
+love for the human race, a god bleeds upon the martyr's cross--behold
+and turn pale! For when the monstrous deed is done, and the night has
+passed. He will cast aside His humble garb and shine in His divine
+glory. Ye will then be nothing but the rainbow which shimmers in
+changeful hues above His head! &quot;Excelsior!&quot; echoes a voice through the
+pure morning-sky and: &quot;Gloria in excelsis, Deo!&quot; peals from the church,
+as the priests chant the early mass.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An hour later the prince stopped before the door in a carriage to
+convey the countess to the Passion Theatre, for the way was long and
+rough.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He gave the Gross sisters strict orders to have everything ready for
+Countess Wildenau's departure at the close of the performance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The carriages must stand packed with the luggage before the theatre
+when we come out. The new maid must not be late.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau made no objection to all this, she was very pale
+and deeply agitated. Ludwig Gross, who was also just going to the
+theatre, was obliged to enter the carriage, too; the countess would
+listen to no refusal. The prince looked coldly at him. Ludwig Gross
+raised his hat, saying courteously:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May I request an introduction?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lady blushed. &quot;Herr Gross, head-master of the drawing-school!&quot; She
+paused a moment in embarrassment, Ludwig's bronze countenance still
+retained its expectant expression.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim,&quot; said the prince, relieving
+the countess' embarrassment, and raising his hat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The drawing-master's delicate tact instantly perceived Prince Emil's
+generous intention.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon me,&quot; he said, with a shade of bashfulness, &quot;I did not know that
+I was in the presence of a gentleman of such high rank--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, no, you were perfectly right,&quot; interrupted Prince Emil, who was
+pleased with the man's modest confidence, and immediately entered into
+conversation with him. He asked various questions, and Ludwig described
+how he was frequently compelled to get suitable figures for his tableau
+from the forests and the fields, because the better educated people all
+had parts assigned to them, and how difficult it was to work with this
+untrained material; especially as he had barely two or three minutes to
+arrange a tableau containing three hundred persons.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess gazed absently at the motley throngs surging toward the
+Passion Theatre. The fresh morning breeze blew into the carriage. All
+nature was full of gladness, a festal joy which even the countess'
+richly caparisoned horses seemed to share, for they pranced gaily and
+dashed swiftly on as if they would fain vie with the sun-god's steeds
+above. The Bavarian flags on the Passion Theatre fluttered merrily
+against the blue sky, and now another discharge of cannon announced the
+commencement of the performance. The carriage made its way with much
+difficulty through the multitude to the entrance, which was surrounded
+by natives of Ammergau. Ludwig Gross ordered the driver to stop, and
+sprang out. All respectfully made way for him, raising their hats: &quot;Ah,
+Herr Gross! The drawing-master! Good-day!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good-day,&quot; replied Ludwig Gross, then unceremoniously giving the
+countess his arm, requested the prince to follow and led them through
+several side passages, to which strangers were not admitted, into the
+space reserved for boxes, where two fine-looking young men, also
+members of the Gross family, the &quot;ushers&quot; were taking tickets. Ludwig
+lifted his hat and left them to go to his work. The prince shook hands
+with him and expressed his thanks. &quot;A cultured man!&quot; he said, after
+Ludwig had gone. Meanwhile one of the ushers had conducted the countess
+to her seat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There directly before her lay the long-desired goal! A huge
+amphitheatre built in the Greek style. Between the boxes, which
+overlooked the whole, and the stage, under the open sky, extended a
+vast space, whose seats rose to the height of a house. The orchestra,
+too, was roofless, as also were the proscenium and the stage, at whose
+extreme right and left stood the houses of Pilate and Caiaphas, between
+which stretched the streets of Jerusalem. The chorus was stationed on
+the proscenium and here all the great scenes in which the populace took
+part were performed. The main stage, occupying the centre only, as in
+the Greek theatre, was a temple-like covered building with a curtain,
+in a certain sense a theatre within a theatre, where the scenes that
+required a smaller frame were set. Beyond, the whole was surrounded by
+the amphitheatre of the lofty mountains gazing down in majestic repose,
+surmounting and crowning all.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The orchestra was playing the last bars of the overture and the surging
+and hum of the thousands who were finding their seats had at last
+ceased. The chorus came forward, all the singers clad in the Greek
+costume, at their head as choragus Johannes Diemer, arrayed in diadem
+and toga. A majestic figure of true priestly dignity, he moved across
+the stage, fully imbued with the spirit of the sublime drama which it
+was his honorable office to open. Deep silence now reigned throughout
+the audience. It seemed as if nature herself was listening outside, the
+whispering morning breeze held its breath, and not a single bird-note
+was heard. The repose of the Sabbath spread its wings protectingly over
+the whole scene, that nothing should disturb this consecrated mood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As the stately figures advanced wearing their costly robes with as much
+dignity as if they had never been clad in any other garments, or would
+be forced again to exchange them for the coarse torn blouse of toil; as
+they began to display the art acquired with such self-sacrificing
+devotion after a wearisome day of labor, and the choragus in the
+purest, noblest intonation began the first lines:</p>
+
+<div class="poem2">
+<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8px">
+&quot;Sink prostrate, overwhelmed with sacred awe,<br>
+Oh, human race, bowed by the curse of God!&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="continue">the countess' heart was suddenly stirred by a new emotion and tears
+filled her eyes.</p>
+
+<div class="poem2">
+<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8px">
+&quot;Eternal God, Thy stammering children hear,<br>
+For children's language, aye, is stammering.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="normal">In these words the devout lips expressed the sacred meaning underlying
+the childish pastime, and those who heard it feel themselves once more
+children--children of the one omnipresent Father.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prologue was over. The curtain of the central stage rolled up, and
+the first tableau, the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise, was
+revealed. Countess Madeleine gazed at it with kindly eyes, for Ludwig
+Gross' refined artistic instinct was visible to her, his firm hand had
+shaped the rude material into these graceful lines. A second tableau
+followed--the Adoration of the Cross. An empty cross, steeped in light,
+stood on a height worshipped by groups of children and angels. The
+key-note was thus given and the drama began.--The first scene was
+before the temple at Jerusalem--the Saviour's entry was expected.
+Madeleine von Wildenau's heart throbbed heavily. She did not herself
+know the cause of her emotion--it almost robbed her of breath--will it
+be <i>he</i> whom she expects, to whom she is bound by some incomprehensible,
+mysterious spell? Will she find him?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Shouts of &quot;Hosanna!&quot; echoed from the distance--an increasing tumult was
+audible. A crowd of people, rejoicing and singing praises, poured out
+of the streets of Jerusalem--the first heralds of the procession
+appeared, breathlessly announcing His approach.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An indescribable fear overpowered the countess--but it now seemed to
+her as if she did not dread the man whom she expected to see, but Him
+he was to personate. The audience, too, became restless, a vibrating
+movement ran like a faint whisper through the multitude: &quot;He is
+coming!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The procession now poured upon the stage, a surging mass--passionately
+excited people waving palms, and in their midst, mounted on a miserable
+beast of burden--the Master of the World.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess scarcely dared to look, she feared the dismounting, which
+might shock her æsthetic sense. But lightly as a thought, with scarcely
+a movement, he had already slipped from the animal, not one of the
+thousands saw how.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is he!&quot; Madeleine's brain whirled, an unspeakable joy overwhelmed
+her: &quot;When shall I behold thee face to face!&quot; her own words, spoken the
+evening before, rang in her ears and--the realization was standing
+before her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Christ!&quot;--a thrill of reverence stirred the throng. Aye, it was
+He, from head to foot! He had not uttered a word, yet all hearts sank
+conquered at his feet. Aye, that was the glance, the dignity, the
+calmness of a God! That was the soul which embraced and cherished a
+world--that was the heart of love which sacrificed itself for man--died
+upon the cross.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now the lips parted and, like an airy, winged genius the words soared
+upward: A voice like an angel's shouting through the universe: &quot;Peace,
+peace on earth!&quot;--now clear and resonant as Easter bells, now gentle
+and tender as a mother's soothing song beside the bed of her sick
+child. &quot;Source of love--thou art He!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mute, motionless, as if transfigured, the countess gazed at the
+miracle--and with her thousands in the same mood. But from her a secret
+bond stretched to him--from her alone among the thousands--a prophetic,
+divine bond, woven by their yearning souls on that night after she had
+beheld the face from which the God so fervently implored now smiled
+consent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The drama pursued its course.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Christ looked around and perceived the traders with their wares, and
+the tables of the money-changers in the court of the temple. As cloud
+after cloud gradually rises in the blue sky and conceals the sun, noble
+indignation darkened the mild countenance, and the eyes flashed with a
+light which reminded Helios, watching above, of the darts of Zeus.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My House,&quot; saith the Lord, &quot;shall be called a house of prayer, but ye
+have made it a den of thieves!&quot; And as though His wrath was a power,
+which emanating from Him acted without any movement of His, a hurricane
+seemed to sweep over the stands of the traders, while not a single
+vehement motion destroyed the calmness of the majestic figure. The
+tables were overthrown, the money rolled on the ground, the cages of
+the doves burst open, and the frightened birds soared with arrowy speed
+over the heads of the spectators. The traders raged and shrieked, &quot;My
+doves, my doves! My money!&quot; and rushed to save the silver coins and
+scattered wares. But He stood motionless amid the tumult, like the
+stone of which He said: &quot;Whosoever shall fall upon that stone shall be
+broken; but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then, with royal dignity. He swung the scourge over the backs bowed to
+seize their paltry gains. &quot;Take these things hence, make not my
+Father's house a house of merchandise!&quot; He did not strike, yet it
+seemed as though the scourge had fallen, for the dealers fled in wild
+confusion before the uplifted hand, and terror seized the Pharisees.
+They perceived that He who stood before them was strong enough to crush
+them all! His breath had the might of the storm, His glance was
+consuming flame--His lash felled without striking--He need only will,
+and &quot;in three days&quot; He would build a new temple as He boasted. Roaring
+like the sea in a tempest, the exulting populace surrounded Him,
+yielding to His sway as the waves recede before the breath of the
+mighty ruler.--Aye, this was the potent spirit of the Jehovah of the
+Jews, the Zeus of the Greeks, the Jupiter of the Romans. This man was
+the Son of the God who created Heaven and earth, and it would be an
+easy matter for the Heir of this power to crush the Pharisees without
+stirring a finger--if He desired, but that was the point; it was <i>not</i>
+His will, for His mission was a different one! The head once more
+drooped humbly, the brow, corrugated with anger, smoothed. &quot;I have done
+my Father's bidding--I have saved the honor of His House!&quot; The storm
+died away into a whisper, and the mild gaze rested forgivingly upon His
+foes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess' virile heart almost rebelled against this humility, and
+would fain have cried out: &quot;Thou <i>art</i> the Son of God, help Thyself!&quot;
+Her sense of justice, formed according to human ideas, was opposed to
+this toleration, this sacrifice of the most sacred rights! Like Helios
+in the vault above, she could not understand the grandeur, the divinity
+of self humiliation, of suffering truth and purity to be judged by
+falsehood and hypocrisy--instead of using His own power to destroy
+them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As if the personator of Christ suspected her thoughts he suddenly fixed
+his glance, above the thousands of heads, directly upon her and like a
+divine message the words fell from his lips: &quot;But in many hearts, day
+will soon dawn!&quot; Then, turning with indescribable gentleness to His
+disciples. He added: &quot;Come, let us go into the temple and there worship
+the Father!&quot; He walked toward it, yet it did not seem as if his feet
+moved; He vanished from the spectators' eyes noiselessly, gradually,
+like the fleeting of a happy moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess covered her eyes with her hand--she felt as if she were
+dreaming a sadly beautiful dream. The prince watched her silently, but
+intently. Nods and gestures of greeting came from the boxes on all
+sides--from the duchess, the diplomatic corps, and numerous
+acquaintances who happened to be there--but the countess saw nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The drama went on. It was the old story of the warfare of baseness
+against nobility, falsehood against truth. The Pharisees availed
+themselves of the injury to the tradesmen's interests to make them
+their allies. The populace, easily deluded, was incited against the
+agitator from &quot;Galilee,&quot; who wished to rob them of the faith of their
+fathers and drive the dealers from the temple. So the conspiracy arose
+and swelled to an avalanche to crush the sacred head! Christ had dealt
+a rude blow to all that was base in human nature, but baseness was the
+greater power, to which even God must succumb while He remained a
+dweller upon earth. But, even in yielding, He conquered--death bestowed
+the palm of victory!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Between the first and second act was a tableau, &quot;Joseph sold by his
+Brethren.&quot; With thoughtful discrimination every important incident in
+the Play was suggested by a corresponding event in the Old Testament,
+represented by a tableau, in order to show the close connection between
+the Old and the New Testament and verify the words: &quot;that all things
+which are written may be fulfilled.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last the curtain rose again and revealed the Sanhedrim assembled for
+judgment. Here sat the leaders of the people of Israel, and also of
+Oberammergau. In the midst was Caiaphas, the High-priest, the Chief of
+the Sanhedrim, the burgomaster of Ammergau and chief manager of the
+Passion Play. At his right and left sat the oldest members of the
+community of Ammergau, an old man with a remarkably fine face and long
+white beard, as Annas, and the sacristan, an impressive figure, as
+Nathanael. On both sides, in a wide circle, were the principal men in
+the parish robed as priests and Pharisees. What heads! What figures!
+The burgomaster, Caiaphas, rose and, with a brief address, opened the
+discussion. Poor Son of God, how wilt Thou fare in the presence of this
+mighty one of earth? The burgomaster was the type of the fanatical,
+ambitious priest, not a blind, dull zealot--nay, he was the
+representative of the aristocratic hierarchy, the distinguished men of
+the highest intelligence and culture. A face rigid as though chiselled
+from stone, yet animated by an intellect of diabolical superiority,
+which would never confess itself conquered, which no terror could
+intimidate, no marvel dazzel, no suffering move. Tall and handsome in
+the very flower of manhood, with eyes whose glances pierced like
+javelins, a tiara on his haughty head, robed in all the pomp of
+Oriental priestly dignity, every clanking ornament a symbol of his
+arrogant, iron nature, every motion of his delicate white hands, every
+fold of his artistically draped mantle, every hair of his flowing beard
+a proof of that perfect conscious mastery of outward ceremonial
+peculiar to those who are accustomed to play a shrewdly planned part
+before the public. Thus he stood, terrible yet fascinating, repellent
+yet attractive, nay to the trained eye of an artist who could
+appreciate this masterly blending of the most contradictory influences,
+positively enthralling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the effect produced upon Countess Wildenau. The feeling of
+indication roused by the incomprehensible humiliation of the divine
+Martyr almost tempted her to side with the resolute foe who manfully
+defended his own honor with his god's. A noble-hearted woman cannot
+withstand the influence of genuine intellectual manfulness, and until
+the martyrdom of Christ became <i>heroism</i>, the firm, unyielding
+high-priest exerted an irresistible charm over the countess. The
+conscious mastery, the genius of the performer, the perfection of his
+acting, roused and riveted the artistic interest of the cultivated
+woman, and as, with the people of Ammergau, the individual and the
+actor are not two distinct personages, as among professional artists,
+she knew that the man before her also possessed a lofty nature, and the
+nimbus of Ammergau constantly increased, the spirit ruling the whole
+obtained still greater sway. The sacristan was also an imposing figure
+as Nathanael, the second high-priest, who, with all the power of
+Pharisaical superiority and sophistry, appeared as Christ's accuser.
+The eloquence of these two judges was overpowered, and into the surging
+waves of passion, Annas, in his venerable dignity, dropped with steady
+hand the sharp anchor of cold, pitiless resolve. An imposing, sinister
+assembly was this great Sanhedrim, and every spectator involuntarily
+felt the dread always inspired by a circle of stern, cruel despots.
+Poor Lamb, what will be Thy fate?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Destiny pursued its course. In the next act Christ announced His
+approaching death to the disciples. Now it seemed as though He bore
+upon His brow an invisible helm of victory, on which the dove of the
+Holy Spirit rested with outspread wings. Now He was the hero--the hero
+who <i>chose</i> death. Yet meekness was diffused throughout His whole
+bearing, was the impress of His being; the meekness which spares others
+but does not tremble for itself. A new perception dawned upon the
+countess: to be strong yet gentle was the highest nobility of the
+soul--and as here also the character and its personator were one, she
+knew that the men before her possessed these attributes: strength and
+gentleness. Now her defiant spirit at last melted and she longed to
+take Him to her heart to atone for the injustice of the human race. She
+thanked Simon for receiving the condemned man under his hospitable
+roof.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Aye, love Him--I, too, love Him?&quot; she longed to cry out to those who
+were ministering to Him. But when Mary Magdalene touched and anointed
+Him she averted her eyes, for she grudged her the privilege and thought
+of her poor, beautiful penitent at home. As He uttered the words:
+&quot;Rise, Magdalene. Darkness is gathering, and the wintry storms are
+raging. Yet be comforted! In the early morning, in the Spring garden,
+thou wilt see me again!&quot; tears streamed form her eyes; &quot;When will the
+morning dawn that I shall greet Thee--in the Spring garden, redeeming
+love?&quot; asked a voice in her heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But when Mary appeared and Christ took leave of His mother--when the
+latter sank upon the breast of her divine son and He consoled her with
+a voice whose sweetness no ear had ever heard equalled, a feeling which
+she had never experienced took possession of her: it was neither envy
+nor jealousy--only a sorrowful longing: &quot;If I were only in her place!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And when Christ said: &quot;My hour is come; now is my soul troubled; and
+what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour: but for this cause
+came I unto this hour!&quot; and Mary, remembering Simeon's words, cried:
+&quot;Simeon, thy prediction--'a sword shall pierce through thy own soul,
+also'--is now fulfilled!&quot; the countess, for the first time, understood
+the meaning of the pictures of Mary with the seven swords in her heart;
+her own was bleeding from the keenness of her anguish. Now, overpowered
+with emotion, He again extended His arms: &quot;Mother, mother, receive thy
+son's fervent gratitude for all the love and faith which thou hast
+bestowed in the thirty-three years of my life: Farewell, dear mother!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess felt as if she would no longer endure it--that she must
+sink in a sea of grief and yearning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My son, where shall I see Thee again?&quot; asked Mary.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yonder, dear mother, where the words of the Scripture shall be
+fulfilled: 'He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep
+before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth.'&quot; Then, while
+the others were weeping over the impending calamity, Christ said: &quot;Be
+not overcome in the first struggle. Trust in me.&quot; And, as He spoke, the
+loving soul knew that it might rest on Him and be secure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He moved away. Serene, noble, yet humble, He went to meet His death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The curtain fell--but this time there was no exchange of greetings from
+the boxes, the faces of their occupants were covered to conceal the
+tears of which they were ashamed, yet could not restrain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess and her companion remained silent. Madeleine's forehead
+rested on her hand--the prince was secretly wiping his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;People of God, lo, thy Saviour is near! The Redeemer, long promised,
+hath come!&quot; sang the chorus, and the curtain rising, showed Christ and
+his disciples on the way to Jerusalem. It was the moment that Christ
+wept over Jerusalem. Tears of the keenest anguish which can pierce the
+heart of a God, tears for the sins of the world! &quot;Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
+if thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things
+which belongs unto thy peace! But now they are hid from thine eyes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The disciples entreated their Master not to enter the hostile city and
+thus avoid the crime which it was destined to commit. Or to enter and
+show Himself in His power, to judge and to reward.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Children, what ye desire will be done in its time, but my ways are
+ordered by my Father, and thus saith the Lord: 'My thoughts are not
+your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And, loyal and obedient, He followed the path of death. Judas alone
+lingered behind, resolving to leave the fallen greatness which promised
+no earthly profit and would bring danger and disgrace upon its
+adherents. In this mood he was met by Dathan, Andreas Gross, who was
+seeking a tool for the vengeance of the money changers. Finding it in
+Judas, he took him before the Sanhedrim.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An impressive and touching tableau now introduced a new period, the
+gathering of manna in the wilderness, which refreshed the starving
+children of Israel. A second followed: The colossal bunch of grapes
+from Canaan. &quot;The Lord miraculously fed the multitude in the desert
+with the manna and rejoiced their hearts with the grapes of Canaan, but
+Jesus offers us a richer banquet from Heaven. From the mystery of His
+body and blood flows mercy and salvation!&quot; sang the chorus. The curtain
+rose again, Christ was at supper with His disciples. He addressed them
+in words of calm farewell. But they did not yet fully understand, for
+they asked who would be <i>first</i> in His heavenly kingdom?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His only answer was to lay aside His upper garment, gird, with divine
+dignity, a cloth about His loins, and kneel to perform for the
+disciples the humblest service--<i>the washing of their feet</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The human race looked on in breathless wonder--viewless bands of angels
+soared downward and the demons of pride and defiance in human nature
+fled and hid themselves in the inmost recesses of their troubled
+hearts.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Aye, the strong soul of the woman, which had at first rebelled against
+the patience of the suffering God--now understood it and to her also
+light came, as He had promised and, by the omnipotent feeling which
+urged her to the feet of Him who knelt rendering the lowliest service
+to the least of His disciples, she perceived the divinity of
+<i>humility</i>!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was over. He had risen and put on His upper garment; He stood with
+His figure drawn up to His full height and gazed around the circle:
+&quot;Now ye are clean, but not <i>all</i>!&quot;--and His glance rested mournfully on
+Peter, who before the cock crew, would deny Him thrice, and on Judas,
+who would betray Him for thirty pieces of silver.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then He again took His seat and, as the presentiment of approaching
+death transfigures even the most commonplace mortal and illumines the
+struggling soul at the moment of its separation from the body, so the
+<i>God</i> transfigured the earthly form of the &quot;Son of Man&quot; and appeared
+more and more plainly on the pallid face, ere he left the frail husk
+which He had chosen for His transitory habitation. And as the dying man
+distributes his property among his heirs, <i>He</i> bequeathed His. But He
+had nothing to give, save Himself. As the cloud dissolves into millions
+of raindrops which the thirsting earth drinks, He divided Himself into
+millions of atoms which, in the course of the ages, were to refresh
+millions of human beings with the banquet of love. His body and His
+blood were his legacy. He divided it into countless portions, to
+distribute it among countless heirs, yet it remained <i>one</i> and the
+<i>part</i> is to every one <i>the whole</i>. For as an element remains a great
+unity, no matter into how many atoms it may dissolve--as water is
+always water whether in single drops or in the ocean--fire always fire
+in sparks or a conflagration--so Christ is <i>always Christ</i> in the drops
+of the chalice and the particles of the bread, as well as in His
+original person, for He, <i>too</i>, is an element, <i>the element of
+divinity</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As kindred kneel around the bedside of a loved one who is dying, bedew
+his hand with tears, and utter the last entreaty: &quot;Forgive us, if we
+have ever wounded you?&quot; the thousands of spectators longed to kneel,
+and there was not one who did not yearn to press his lips to the
+wonderful hand which was distributing the bread, and cry: &quot;Forgive us
+our sins.&quot; But as reverence for the dying restrains loud lamentations,
+the spectators controlled themselves in order not to sob aloud and thus
+disturb the divine peace throned upon the Conqueror's brow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Destiny now relentlessly pursued its course. Judas sold his master for
+thirty pieces of silver, and they were paid to him before the
+Sanhedrim. The pieces of silver rang on the stone table upon which they
+were counted out. It seemed as if the clear sound was sharply piercing
+the world, like the edge of a scythe destined to mow down the holiest
+things.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The priests exulted, there was joy in the camp of the foes! All that
+human arrogance and self-conceit could accomplish, raised its head
+triumphantly in Caiaphas. The regal priest stood so firmly upon
+the height of his secular power that nothing could overthrow him,
+and--Jesus of Nazareth must die!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So the evening came when Christ went with the twelve disciples to the
+Mount of Olives to await His doom.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Father, the hour is come; glorify thy Son, that thy Son may also
+glorify thee! I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do--I
+have manifested thy name unto men! Father, sanctify them through thy
+truth; that they all may be one, as thou, Father, art in me and I in
+thee!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He climbed the lonely mount in the garden of olive trees to pass
+through the last agony, the agony of death, which seized upon even the
+Son of God so long as He was still bound by the laws of the human body.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Father, if thou be willing, let this cup pass from me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Here Freyer's acting reached its height; it was no longer semblance,
+but reality. The sweat fell in burning drops from his brow, and tears
+streamed from his eyes. &quot;Yet not <i>my</i> will, but <i>Thine</i> be done--Thy
+sacred will!&quot; Clasping his trembling hands, he flung himself prone on
+the ground, hiding his tear-stained face, &quot;Father--Thy son--hear Him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The throng breathed more and more heavily, the tears flowed faster. The
+heart of all humanity was touched with the anguished cry: &quot;Oh, sins of
+humanity, ye crush me--oh, the terrible burden--the bitter cup!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With this anguish the Son of God first drew near to the human race, in
+this suffering He first bent down to mortals that they might embrace
+Him lovingly like a mortal brother. And it was so at this moment, also!
+They would fain have dragged Him from the threatening cross, defended
+Him with their own bodies, purchased his release at any cost--too late,
+<i>this</i> repentance should have come several centuries earlier.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The hour of temptation was over. The disciples had slept and left him
+alone--but the angel of the Lord had comforted Him, the angel whom God
+sends to every one who is deserted by men. He was himself again--the
+Conqueror of the World!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Judas came with the officers and pressed upon the sweet mouth on which
+the world would fain hang in blissful self-forgetfulness--the traitor's
+kiss.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Judas, can you touch those lips and not fall at the feet of Him you
+have betrayed?&quot; cried a voice in Madeleine von Wildenau's heart. &quot;Can
+you <i>kiss</i> the lips which so patiently endure the death-dealing caress,
+and not find your hate transformed to love?&quot; Ah, only the divine can
+recognize the divine, only sympathetic natures attract one another!
+Judas is the symbol of the godless world, which would no longer
+perceive God's presence, even if He came on earth once more. The
+soldiers, brawny fellows, fell to the ground as He stood before them
+with the words: &quot;I am Jesus of Nazareth!&quot; and He was forced to say:
+&quot;Rise! Fear ye not!&quot; that they might accomplish their work--but Judas
+remained unmoved and delivered Him up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Christ was a prisoner and descended step by step into the deepest
+ignominy. But no matter through what mire of baseness and brutality
+they dragged Him, haling Him from trial to trial--nothing robbed Him of
+the majesty of the Redeemer! And if His speech had been full of power,
+so was His silence! Before the Sanhedrim, before Herod, and finally
+before Pilate, <i>He</i> was the king, and the mighty ones of earth were
+insignificant in <i>His</i> presence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who knows whether this man is not the son of some god?&quot; murmured the
+polytheistic Romans--and shrank from the mystery which surrounded the
+silent One.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The impression here was produced solely by Freyer's imposing calmness
+and unearthly eyes. The glance he cast at Herod when the latter ordered
+him to perform a miracle--darken the judgment chamber or transform a
+roll of papyrus into a serpent--that one glance, full of dignity and
+gentleness, fixed upon the poor, short-sighted child of the dust was a
+greater miracle than all the conjuring tricks of the Egyptian
+Magicians.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But this very silence, this superiority, filled the priest with furious
+rage and hastened His doom, which He disdained to stay by a single
+word.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">True, Pilate strove to save Him. The humane Roman, with his
+aristocratic bearing, as Thomas Rendner personated him with masterly
+skill, formed a striking contrast to the gloomy, fanatical priests, but
+he was not the man for violent measures, and the furious leaders
+understood how to present this alternative. The desire to conciliate,
+the refuge of all weak souls which shrink in terror from catastrophes,
+had already wrested from him a shameful concession--he had suffered the
+Innocent One to be delivered to the scourge.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With clenched teeth the spectators beheld the chaste form, bound to the
+stake and stained with blood, quiver beneath the lashes of the
+executioner, without a murmur of complaint from the silent lips. And
+when He had &quot;had enough,&quot; as they phrased it, they placed him on a
+chair, threw a royal mantle about Him, and placed a sceptre of reeds in
+the hand of the mock-king. But He remained mute. The tormentors grew
+more and more enraged--they wanted to have satisfaction, to gloat over
+the moans of the victim--they dealt Him a blow in the face, then a
+second one. Christ did not move. They thrust Him from the chair so that
+He fell on the ground--no one ever forgot the beautiful, pathetic
+figure--but He was still silent! Then one of the executioners brought a
+crown made of huge thorns; He was raised again and the martyr's diadem
+was placed upon His brow. The sharp thorns resisted, they would not fit
+the noble head, so His tormentors took two sticks laid cross-ways, and
+with them forced the spiked coronals so low on His forehead that drops
+of blood flowed! Christ quivered under the keen agony--but--He was
+silent! Then He was dragged out of His blood, a spectacle to the
+populace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again Helios above gave the rein to his radiant coursers--he thought of
+all the horrors in the history of his divine House, of the Danaides, of
+the chained Prometheus, and of others also, but he could recall nothing
+comparable to <i>this</i>, and <i>loathed the human race</i>! Averting his face,
+he guided his weary steeds slowly downward from the zenith.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The evening breeze blew chill upon the scene of agony.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A furious tumult filled the streets of Jerusalem. The priests were
+leading the raging mob to the governor's house--fanning their wrath to
+flame with word and gesture. Caiaphas, Nathanael, the fanatics of
+Judaism--Annas and Ezekiel, each at the head of a mob, rushed from
+three streets in an overwhelming concourse. The populace surged like
+the angry sea, and unchaining yet dominating the elements with word and
+glance the lofty figure of Caiaphas, the high priest, towered in their
+midst.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Shake it off! Cast from you the yoke of the tempter!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He has scorned Moses and the prophets--He has blasphemed God--to the
+cross with the false Messiah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May a curse rest on every one who does not vote for his death--let him
+be cut off from the hereditary rights of our fathers!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thus the four leaders cast their watchword like firebrands among the
+throngs, and the blaze spread tumultuously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Nazarene must die--we demand judgment,&quot; roared the people. New
+bands constantly flocked in. &quot;Oh, fairest day of Israel! Children, be
+resolute! Threaten a general insurrection. The governor wished to hear
+the voice of the people--let him hear it!&quot; shrieked Caiaphas, and his
+passion stirred the mob to fiercer fury. All pressed forward to the
+house of Pilate. The doors opened and the governor came out. The
+handsome, classic countenance of the Roman expressed deep contempt, as
+he surveyed the frantic mob. Behind him appeared the embodiment of
+sorrow--the picture of all pictures--the Ecce Homo--which all the
+artists of the world have striven to represent, yet never exhausted the
+subject. Here it stood personified--before the eyes of men, and even
+the governor's voice trembled as he pointed to it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Behold, <i>what</i> a man!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Crucify him!&quot; was the answer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Pilate endeavored to give the fury of the mob another victim: the
+criminal Barabbas was brought forth and confronted with Christ. The
+basest of human beings and the noblest! But the spectacle did not move
+them, for the patience and serenity of the Martyr expressed a grandeur
+which shamed them all, and <i>this</i> was the intolerable offense! The
+sight of the scourged, bleeding body did not cool their vengeance
+because they saw that the spirit was unbroken! It <i>must</i> be quelled,
+that it might not rise in judgment against them, for they had gone too
+far, the ill-treated victim was a reproach to them--he could not be
+suffered to live longer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Release Barabbas! To death with the Nazarene, crucify him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Vainly the governor strove to persuade the people. The cool,
+circumspect man was too weak to defy these powers of hatred--he would
+fain save Christ, yet was unwilling to drive the fanatics to extremes.
+So he yielded, but the grief with which he did so, &quot;to avert a greater
+misfortune,&quot; absolved him from the terrible guilt whose curse he cast
+upon the leaders' head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The expression with which he pronounced the sentence, uttered the
+words: &quot;Then take ye Him and crucify Him!&quot; voices the grief of the man
+of culture for eternal beauty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The bloodthirsty mob burst into a yell of exultation when their victim
+was delivered to them--now they could cool their vengeance on Him! &quot;To
+Golgotha--hence with him to the place of skulls!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Christ--and Thy sacrifice is for <i>these</i>. Alas, the day will come,
+though perchance not for thousands of years, when Thou wilt perceive
+that they were not <i>worthy</i> of it. But that will be the day of
+judgment!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A crowd surged though the streets of Jerusalem--in their midst the
+condemned man, burdened with the instrument of his own martyrdom.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In one corner amid the populace stood Mary, surrounded by a group of
+friends, and the mother beheld her son urged forward, like a beast
+which, when it falls, is forced up with lashes and pressed on till it
+sinks lifeless.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">High above in the vaulted heavens, veiled by the gathering dude of
+evening, the gods whispered to one another with secret horror as they
+watched the unprecedented sight. Often as they might behold it, they
+could never believe it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The procession stopped before a house--Christ sank to the earth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A man came out and thrust Him from the threshold.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hence, there is no place here for you to rest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ahasuerus! The tortured sufferer looked at him with the gaze of
+a dying deer--a single mute glance of agony, but the man on whom
+it fell nevermore found peace on earth, but was driven from every
+resting-place, from land to land, from one spot to another--hunted on
+ceaselessly through the centuries--wandering forever.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He will die on the road&quot;--cried the first executioner, Christ had
+dragged Himself a few steps forward, and fell for the second time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Drive him on with blows!&quot; shrieked the Pharisees and the people.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! where is the sorrow like unto my sorrow?&quot; moaned Mary, covering
+her face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is too weak, some one must help him,&quot; said the executioner. He
+could not be permitted to die there--the people must see Him on the
+pillory.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His face was covered with sweat and blood--tears flowed from His eyes,
+but the mute lips uttered no word of complaint. Then His friends
+ventured to go and render whatever aid was permitted. Veronica offered
+Him her handkerchief to wipe His face, and when He returned it, it bore
+in lines of sweat and blood, the portrait which, throughout the ages,
+has exerted the silent magic of suffering in legend and in art.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Simon of Cyrene took the cross from the sinking form to bear it for Him
+to Golgotha, and the women of Jerusalem wept. Christ was standing by
+the roadside exhausted, but when He saw the women with their children,
+the last words of sorrow for their lost ones rose from His heart to His
+lips:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and
+your children.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For, behold, the days are coming, in the which they shall say: Blessed
+are the barren, and the wombs that never bare, and the paps which never
+gave suck!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the
+hills. Cover us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For if they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the
+dry?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Drive the women away! Spare him no longer--hence to the place of
+execution!&quot; the priests commanded.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To Golgotha--Crucify him!&quot; roared the people. The women were driven
+away; another message from the governor was unheeded, the procession
+moved steadily on to death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Mary did not leave Him. With the few faithful friends she joined
+her son's march of suffering, for the steadfastness of maternal love
+was as great as her anguish.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a whispering and a murmuring in the air as if the Valkyries
+and the gods of Greece were consulting whether they should aid the Son
+of Man. But they were powerless; the sphere of the Christian's god was
+closed against them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The scene changed. The chorus, robed in sable mourning cloaks, appeared
+and began the dirge for the dying God. The simple chant recalled an
+ancient Anglo-Saxon song of the cross, composed in the seventh century
+by the skald Caedmon, and which for more than a thousand years lay
+buried in the mysterious spell of the rune.</p>
+
+<div class="poem2">
+<p class="t0"><a name="div2Ref_04" href="#div2_04"><sup>[4]</sup></a>Methought I
+saw a Tree in mid-air hang<br>
+Of trees the brightest--mantling o'er with light-streaks;<br>
+A beacon stood it, glittering with gold.</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t4">All the angels beheld it,<br>
+Angel hosts in beauty created.<br>
+Yet stood it not a pillory of shame.<br>
+Thither turned the gaze<br>
+Of spirits blessed,<br>
+And of earthly pilgrims<br>
+Of noblest nature.<br>
+This tree of victory<br>
+Saw I, the sin-laden one.</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t4">Yet 'mid the golden glitter<br>
+Were traces of honor.<br>
+Adown the right side<br>
+Red drops were trickling.<br>
+Startled and shuddering<br>
+Noted I the hovering vision<br>
+Suddenly change its hue.</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t4">Long lay I pondering<br>
+Gazing full sadly<br>
+At the Saviour's Rood.<br>
+When lo, on my ear<br>
+Fell the murmur of speech;<br>
+These are the words<br>
+The forest uttered:</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t4" style="text-indent:-8px">&quot;Many a year ago,<br>
+Yet still my mind holds it,<br>
+Low was I felled.<br>
+The dim forest within<br>
+Hacked from my roots,<br>
+Haled on by rude woodmen<br>
+Bracing sinewy shoulders<br>
+Up the steep mountain side,<br>
+Till aloft on the summit<br>
+Firmly they fastened me.</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t4" style="text-indent:-8px">&quot;I spied the Frey<a name="div2Ref_05" href="#div2_05"><sup>[5]</sup></a> of man
+with eager haste<br>
+Approach to mount me; neither bend nor break<br>
+I durst, for so it was decreed above<br>
+Though earth about me shook.</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t4" style="text-indent:-8px">&quot;Up-girded him then the young hero,<br>
+That was God Almighty,<br>
+Strong and steady of mood,<br>
+Stept he on the high gallows:<br>
+Fearless amongst many beholders<br>
+For he would save mankind.<br>
+Trembled I when that 'beorn' climbed me,<br>
+But I durst not bow to earth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t4">There hung the Lord of Hosts<br>
+Swart clouds veiled the corpse,<br>
+The sun's light vanished<br>
+'Neath shadows murk.<br>
+While in silence drear<br>
+All creation wept<br>
+The fall of their king.<br>
+Christ was on Rood--<br>
+Thither from afar<br>
+Men came hastening<br>
+To aid the noble one.</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t4">Everything I saw,<br>
+Sorely was I<br>
+With sorrows harrowed,<br>
+Yet humbly I inclined<br>
+To the hands of his servants<br>
+Striving much to aid them.</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t4">Now from the Rood<br>
+The mighty God,<br>
+Spear-pierced and blood-besprent,<br>
+Gently men lowered;<br>
+They laid him down limb-weary,<br>
+They stood at the lifeless head,<br>
+Gazing at Heaven's Lord,<br>
+And he there rests awhile,<br>
+Weary after his mickle death-fight.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="normal">Such was the paean of Caedmon, mighty among the writers of runes, in
+the seventh century after the Saviour's death. Now, twelve centuries
+later, it lived again, and the terrible event was once more enacted,
+just as the skald had sung, just as it happened nearly two thousand
+years ago.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What is space, what is time to aught that is rooted in love?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The dirge of the chorus had died away. A strange sound behind the
+curtain accompanied the last verses--the sound of hammering--could it
+be? No, it would be too horrible. The audience heard, yet <i>would</i> not
+hear. A deathlike stillness pervaded the theatre--the blows of the
+hammer became more and more distinct--the curtain rolled upward--there
+He lay with His feet toward the spectators, flat upon the cross. And
+the executioners, with heavy blows, drove nails through His limbs; they
+pierced the kind hands which had never done harm to any living
+creature, but wherever they were gently laid, healed all wounds and
+stilled all griefs; the feet which had borne the divine form so lightly
+that it seemed to float over the burning sand of the land and the
+surging waves of the sea, always on a mission of love. Now He lay in
+suffering on the ground, stretched upon the accursed timbers--half
+benumbed, like a stricken stag. At the right and left stood the lower
+crosses of the two criminals. These men merely had their arms thrown
+over the cross-beams and tied with ropes, only the feet were fastened
+with nails. Christ alone was nailed by both hands and feet, because the
+Pharisees were tortured by a foreboding that He could not be wholly
+killed. Had they dared, they would have torn Him to pieces, and
+scattered the fragments to the four winds, in order to be sure that He
+would not rise on the third day, as He had predicted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The executioners had completed the binding of the thieves. &quot;Now the
+King of the Jews must be raised.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Lift the cross! Take hold!&quot; the captain commanded. The spectators held
+their breath, every heart stood still! The four executioners grasped it
+with their brawny arms. &quot;Up! Don't let go!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The cross is ponderous, the men pant, bracing their shoulders against
+it--their veins swell--another jerk--it sways--&quot;Hold firm! Once
+more--put forth your strength!&quot; and in a wide sweep it moved
+upward--all cowered back shuddering at the horrible spectacle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is not, It cannot be!&quot; Yet it is, it can be! Horror thrilled the
+spectators, their limbs trembled. One grasped another, as if to hold
+themselves from falling. It was rising, the cross was rising above the
+world! Higher--nearer! &quot;Brace against it--don't let go!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It stood erect and was firm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There hung the divine figure of sorrow, pallid and wan. The nails were
+driven through the bleeding hands and feet--and the eye which would
+fain deny was forced to witness it, the heart that would have
+prevented, was compelled to bear it. But the scene could be endured no
+longer, the grief restrained with so much difficulty found vent in loud
+sobs, and the hands trembling with a feverish chill were clasped with
+the <i>same</i> feeling of adoring love. Unspeakable compassion was poured
+forth in ceaseless floods of tears, and rose gathering in a cloud of
+pensive melancholy around the head of the Crucified One to soothe His
+mortal anguish. By degrees their eyes became accustomed to the scene
+and gained strength to gaze at it. Divine grace pervaded the slender
+body, and--as eternal beauty reconciles Heaven and hell and
+transfigures the most terrible things--horror gradually merged into
+devout admiration of the perfect human beauty revealed in chaste repose
+and majesty before their delighted gaze. The countess had clasped her
+hands over her breast. The world lay beneath her as if she was floating
+above with Him on the cross. She no longer knew whether he was a <i>man</i>
+or Christ Himself--she only knew that the universe contained <i>nothing</i>
+save that form.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her eyes were fixed upon the superhuman vision, tear after tear
+trickled down her cheeks. The prince gazed anxiously at her, but she
+did not notice it--she was entranced. If she could but die now--die at
+the foot of the cross, let her soul exhale like a cloud of incense,
+upward to Him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Darkness was gathering. The murmuring and whispering in the air drew
+nearer--was it the Valkyries, gathering mournfully around the hero who
+scorned the aid. Was it the wings of the angel of death? Or was it a
+flock of the sacred birds which, legend relates, strove to draw out the
+nails that fastened the Saviour to the cross until their weak bills
+were crooked and they received the name of &quot;cross-bills.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sufferer above was calm and silent. Only His lambent eyes spoke,
+spoke to those invisible powers hovering around Him in the final hour.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Beneath His cross the soldiers were casting lots for His garments--the
+priests were exulting--the brute cynicism was watching with wolfish
+greed for the victim to fall into its clutches, while shouting with
+jeering mocking: If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He trusted in God; let Him deliver Him now, if He will have Him!--</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thou that destroyest the temple and buildest it in three days, save
+thyself. Show thy power, proud King of the Jews!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The tortured sufferer painfully turned His head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then one of the malefactors, even in his own death agony, almost mocked
+Him, but the other rebuked him; &quot;We receive the due reward of our
+deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss!&quot; Then he added
+beseechingly: &quot;Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Christ made the noble answer: &quot;Verily I say unto thee, to-day shalt
+thou be with me in paradise.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a fresh roar of mockery from the Pharisees. &quot;He cannot save
+himself, yet promises the kingdom of heaven to others.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the Saviour no longer heard, His senses were failing; He bent His
+head toward Mary and John. &quot;Woman, behold thy son! Son, behold thy
+mother!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The signs of approaching death appeared. He grew restless--struggled
+for breath, His tongue clung to His palate.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thirst.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sponge dipped in vinegar was handed to him on a long spear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He sipped but was not refreshed. The agony had reached its climax:
+&quot;Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?&quot; He cried from the depths of His
+breaking heart, a wonderful waving motion ran through the noble form in
+the last throes of death. Then, with a long sigh, He murmured in the
+tones of an Æolian harp: &quot;It is finished! Father, into Thy hands I
+commend my spirit!&quot; gently bowed his head and expired.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A crashing reverberation shook the earth. Helios' chariot rolled
+thundering into the sea. The gods fled, overwhelmed and scattered by
+the hurrying hosts of heaven. Dust whirled upward from the ground and
+smoke from the chasms, darkening the air. The graves opened and sent
+forth their inmates. In the mighty anguish of love, the Father rends
+the earth as He snatches from it the victim He has too long left to
+pitiless torture! The false temple was shattered, the veil rent--and
+amid the flames of Heaven the Father's heart goes forth to meet the
+maltreated, patient, obedient Son.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, thou poor martyr!&quot; echoed yearningly through the heavens. &quot;Come,
+thou poor martyr!&quot; repeated every spectator below.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet they were still compelled to see the beloved body pierced with a
+sharp lance till the hot blood gushed forth--and it seemed as if the
+thrust entered the heart of the entire world! They were still forced to
+hear the howling of the wolves disputing over the sacred corpse--but at
+last the tortured soul was permitted to rest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The governor's hand had protected the lifeless body and delivered it to
+His followers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The multitude dispersed, awe-stricken by the terrible portents--the
+priests, pale with terror, fled to their shattered temple. Golgotha
+became empty. The jeers and reviling had died away, the tumult in
+nature had subsided--and the sacred stillness of evening brooded over
+those who remained. &quot;He has fulfilled His task--He has entered into the
+rest of the Father.&quot; The drops of blood fell noiselessly from the
+Redeemer's heart upon the sand. Nothing was heard save the low sobbing
+of the women at the foot of the cross.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then pitying love approached, and never has a pæan of loyalty been sung
+like that which the next hour brought. The first blades were now
+appearing of that love whose seed has spread throughout the world!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus came with ladders and tools to take
+down the body.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ascending, they wound about the lifeless form long bands of white
+linen, whose ends they flung down from the cross. These were grasped by
+the friends below as a counterpoise to lower it gently down. Joseph and
+Nicodemus now began to draw out the nails with pincers; the cracking
+and splintering of the wood was heard, so firm was the iron.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mary sat on a stone, waiting resignedly, with clasped hands, for her
+son. &quot;Noble men, bring me my child's body soon!&quot; she pleaded softly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The women spread a winding sheet at her feet to receive it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last the nails were drawn out and--</p>
+
+<div class="poem3">
+<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8px">&quot;Now from the rood<br>
+The mighty God<br>
+Men gently lowered.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="normal">Cautiously one friend laid the loosened, rigid arms of the dead form
+upon the other's shoulders, that they might not fall suddenly, Joseph
+of Arimathea clasped the body: &quot;Sweet, sacred burden, rest upon my
+shoulders.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He descended the ladder with it. Half carried, half lowered in the
+bands, the lifeless figure slides to the foot of the instrument of
+martyrdom.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Nicodemus extended his arms to him: &quot;Come, sacred corpse of my only
+friend, let me receive you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They bore Him to Mary--</p>
+<div class="poem3">
+<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8px">
+&quot;They laid Him down limb-weary<br>
+They stood at the lifeless head.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="continue">that the son might rest once more in the mother's lap.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She clasped in her arms the wounded body of the son born in anguish the
+second time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Magdalene knelt beside it. &quot;Let me kiss once more the hand which has so
+often blessed me.&quot; And with chaste fervor the Penitent's lips touched
+the cold, pierced hand of the corpse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Another woman flung herself upon Him. &quot;Dearest Master, one more tear
+upon Thy lifeless body!&quot; And the sobbing whisper of love sounded sweet
+and soothing like vesper-bells after a furious storm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the men stood devoutly silent:</p>
+
+<div class="poem3">
+<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8px">
+&quot;Gazing at Heaven's Lord,<br>
+And He there rests awhile<br>
+Weary after his mickle death-fight.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>FREYER</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The Play was over. &quot;Christ is risen!&quot; He had burst the
+sepulchre and
+hurled the guards in the dust by the sight of His radiant apparition.
+He had appeared to the Penitent as a simple gardener &quot;early in the
+morning,&quot; as He had promised, and at last had been transfigured and had
+risen above the world, bearing in His hand the standard of victory.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The flood of human beings poured out of the close theatre into the open
+air. Not loudly and noisily, as they had come--no, reverently and
+gravely, as a funeral train disperses after the obsequies of some noble
+man; noiselessly as the ebbing tide recedes after flood raised by a
+storm. These were the same people, yet they <i>returned</i> in a far
+different mood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The same vehicles in which yesterday the travelers had arrived in so
+noisy a fashion, now bore them away, but neither shouts nor cracking of
+whips was heard--the drivers knew that they must behave as if their
+carriages were filled with wounded men.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And this was true. There was scarcely one who did not suffer as if the
+spear which had pierced the Saviour's heart had entered his own, who
+did not feel the wounds of the Crucified One in his own hands and feet!
+The grief which the people took with them was grand and godlike, and
+they treasured it carefully, they did not desire to lose any portion of
+it, for--we love the grief we feel for one beloved--and to-day they had
+learned to love Christ.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So they went homeward.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The last carriages which drew up before the entrance were those of the
+countess and her friends. The gentlemen of the diplomatic corps were
+already standing below, waiting for Countess Wildenau to assign them
+their seats in the two landaus. But the lady was still leaning against
+the pillar which supported one end of the box. Pressing her
+handkerchief to her eyes, she vainly strove to control her tears. Her
+heart throbbed violently, her breath was short and quick--she could not
+master her emotion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince stood before her, pale and silent, his eyes, too, were
+reddened by weeping.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Try to calm yourself!&quot; he said firmly. &quot;The ladies are still in their
+box, the duchess seems to expect you to go to her. A woman of the
+world, like yourself, should not give way so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Give way, do you call it?&quot; repeated Madeleine, who did not see that
+Prince Emil, too, was moved. &quot;We shall never understand each other.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At this moment the ladies left their box and crossed the intervening
+space. They were the last persons in the theatre. The duchess, without
+a word, threw her arms around Countess von Wildenau's neck. Her
+ladies-in-waiting, too, approached with tearful eyes, and when the
+duchess at last released her friend from her embrace, the baroness
+whispered: &quot;Forgive me, I have wronged you as well as many others--even
+yesterday, forgive me.&quot; The same entreaty was expressed in Her
+Excellency's glance and clasp of the hand as she said: &quot;Whoever sees
+this must repent every unloving word ever uttered; we will never forget
+that we have witnessed it together.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you, but I should have borne you no ill will, even had I known
+what you have now voluntarily confessed to me!&quot; replied the countess,
+kissing the ladies with dry, burning lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Shall we go?&quot; asked the duchess. &quot;We shall be locked in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will come directly--I beg you--will your Highness kindly go first? I
+should like to rest a moment!&quot; stammered the countess in great
+confusion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are terribly unstrung--that is natural--so are we all. I will wait
+for you below and take you in my carriage, if you wish. We can weep our
+fill together.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your Highness is--very kind,&quot; replied the countess, scarcely knowing
+what she answered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the party had gone down stairs, she passionately seized Prince
+Emil's arm: &quot;For Heaven's sake, help me to escape going with them. I
+will not, <i>cannot</i> leave. I beseech you by all that is sacred, let me
+stay here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So it is settled! The result is what I feared,&quot; said the prince with a
+heavy sigh. &quot;I can only beg you for your own sake to consider the
+ladies. You have invited them to dine day after to-morrow--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know it--apologize for me--say whatever you please--you will
+know--you can manage it--if you have ever loved me--help me! Drive with
+the ladies--entertain them, that they may not miss me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And the magnificent ovation which the gentlemen have arranged at your
+home?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do I care for it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A fairy temple awaits you at the Palace Wildenau, and you will stay
+here? What a pity to lose the beautiful flowers, which must now wither
+in vain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot help it. For Heaven's sake, act quickly--some one is coming!&quot;
+She was trembling in every limb with fear--but it was no member of the
+party sent to summon her. A short man with clear cut features stood
+beside her, shrewd loyal eyes met her glance. &quot;I saw that you were
+still here, Countess, can I serve you in any way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank Heaven, it is Ludwig Gross!&quot; cried the excited woman joyously,
+taking his arm. &quot;Can you get me to your father's house without being
+seen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, I can guide you across the stage, if you wish!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quick, then! Farewell, Prince--be generous and forgive me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She vanished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince was too thoroughly a man of the world to betray his feelings
+even for an instant. The short distance down the staircase afforded him
+ample time to decide upon his course. The misfortune had happened, and
+could no longer be averted--but it concerned himself alone. Her name
+and position must be guarded.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you come without the countess?&quot; called the duchess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must apologize for her, Your Highness. The performance has so
+completely unstrung her nerves that she is unable to travel to-day. I
+have just placed her in her landlord's charge promising not only to
+make her apologies to the ladies, but also endeavor to supply her
+place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, poor Countess Wildenau!&quot; said the duchess, kindly. &quot;Shall we not
+go to her assistance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Permit me to remind your Highness that we have not a moment to lose,
+if we wish to catch the train!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it possible! Then we must hurry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes--and I think rest will be best for the countess at present,&quot;
+answered Prince Emil, helping the ladies into the carriage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, we shall see her at dinner on Tuesday? She will be able to
+travel to-morrow?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I hope so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But, Prince Emil! What will become of our flowers?&quot; asked the
+gentlemen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, they will keep until to-morrow!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I suppose she has no suspicion?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of course not, and it is far better, for had she been aware of it, no
+doubt she would have gone to-day, in spite of her illness, and made
+herself worse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The gentlemen assented. &quot;Still it's a pity about the flowers. If they
+will only keep fresh!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She will let many a blossom wither, which may well be mourned!&quot;
+thought the prince bitterly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you drive with us, Prince?&quot; asked the duchess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If Your Highness will permit! Will you go to the Casino to-night, as
+we agreed, gentlemen?&quot; he called as he entered the vehicle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not I,&quot; replied Prince Hohenheim. &quot;I honestly confess that I am not in
+the mood.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nor I,&quot; said St. Génois. &quot;This has moved me to that--the finest circus
+in the world might be here and I would not enter! The burgomaster of
+Ammergau was right in permitting nothing of the kind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I will take back everything I said yesterday; I went to laugh and
+wept,&quot; remarked Wengenrode.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It has robbed me of all desire for amusement,&quot; Cossigny added. &quot;I care
+for nothing more to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They bowed to the ladies and the prince, and silently entered their
+carriages. Prince Emil ordered the countess' coachman to drive back
+with the maid, who sat hidden in one corner, and joined the duchess and
+her companions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The equipages rolled away in different directions--one back to the
+Gross house, the other to Munich, where the florists were toiling
+busily to adorn the Wildenau Palace for the reception of its fortunate
+owner, who was not coming.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross led the countess across the now empty stage. It thrilled
+her with a strange emotion to thread its floor, and in her reverent
+awe, she scarcely ventured to glance around her at the vast, dusky
+space. Suddenly she recoiled from an unexpected horror--the cross lay
+before her. Her agitation did not escape the keen perception of Ludwig
+Gross, and he doubtless understood it; such things are not new to the
+people of Ammergau. &quot;I will see whether the house of Pilate is still
+open, perhaps you may like to step out on the balcony!&quot; he said, and
+moved away to leave her alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess understood the consideration displayed by the sympathizing
+man. Kneeling in the dark wings, she threw herself face downward on the
+cross, pressed her burning lips on the hard wood which had supported
+the noble body, on the marks left here also by the nails which had
+apparently pierced the hands of the crucified one, the red stains made
+by his painted wounds. Aye, it had become true, the miracle had
+happened. <i>The artificial blood also possessed redeeming power</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Rarely did any pilgrim to the Holy Land ever press a more fervent kiss
+upon the wood of the true cross, than was now bestowed on the false
+one.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So, in the days of yore, Helen, the beautiful, haughty mother of the
+Emperor Constantine, may have flung herself down, after her long sea
+voyage, when she at last found the long sought cross to press it to her
+bosom in the unutterable joy of realization.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig's steps approached, and the countess roused herself from her
+rapture.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Unfortunately the house is closed,&quot; said Ludwig, who had probably been
+perfectly aware of it. They went on to the dressing-rooms. &quot;I'll see if
+Freyer is still here!&quot; and the drawing-master knocked at the first
+door. The countess was so much startled that she was forced to lean
+against the wall to save herself from falling. Was it to come now--the
+fateful moment! Her knees threatened to give way, her heart throbbed
+almost to bursting--but there was no answer to the knock, thrice
+repeated. He was no longer there. Ludwig Gross opened the door, the
+room was empty. &quot;Will you come in?&quot; he asked. &quot;Would it interest you to
+see the dressing-room?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She entered. There hang his garments, still damp with perspiration from
+the severe toil.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau stooped with clasped hands in the bare little
+chamber. Something white and glimmering rustled and floated beside
+her--it was the transfiguration robe. She touched it lightly with her
+hand in passing, and a thrill of bliss ran through every nerve.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, and there was the crown of thorns.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She took it in her hand and tears streamed down upon it, as though it
+were some sacred relic. Again the dream-like vision stood before her as
+she had seen it for the first time on the mountain top with the thorny
+branches swaying around the brow like an omen. &quot;No, my hands shall
+defend thee that no thorn shall henceforth tear thee, beloved brow!&quot;
+she thought, while a strange smile irradiated her face. Then looking
+up, she met the eyes of Ludwig, fixed upon her with deep emotion as she
+gazed down at the crown of thorns.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She replaced it and followed him to the door of the next room.
+Caiaphas! An almost childlike dread and timidity assailed her--the sort
+of feeling she had had when a young girl at the time of her first
+presentation at court--she was well-nigh glad that he was no longer
+there and she had time to calm herself ere she confronted the mighty
+priest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is too late, they have all gone!&quot; said Ludwig, offering his
+companion his arm to lead her down the staircase.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Numerous groups of people were standing in front of the theatre and in
+the street leading to the village.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What are they doing here?&quot; asked the lady.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, they are waiting for Freyer! It is always so. He has slipped
+around again by a side path to avoid seeing anyone, and the poor people
+must stand and wait in vain. I have often told him that he ought not to
+be so austere! It would please them so much if he would but give them
+one friendly word--but he cannot conquer this shyness. He cannot suffer
+himself to be revered as the Christ, after the Play is over. He ought
+not to permit the feeling which the people have for the Christ to be
+transferred to his person--that is his view of the matter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is a lofty and noble thought, but hard for us poor mortals, who so
+eagerly cling to what is visible. It is impossible not to transfer the
+impression produced by the character to its representative, especially
+with a personality like Freyer's!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross nodded assent. &quot;Yes, we have had this experience of old.
+Faith needs an earthly pledge, says our great poet, and Freyer's
+personation is such a pledge, a guarantee of whose blessed power
+everyone feels sure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess eagerly pressed Ludwig's hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have seen people,&quot; Ludwig added, &quot;who were happy, if they were only
+permitted to touch Freyer's garment, as though it could bring them
+healing like the actual robe of Christ! Would not Christ, also, if He
+beheld this pious delusion, exclaim: 'Woman, thy faith hath saved
+thee!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A deep flush crimsoned the countess' face, and the tears which she had
+so long struggled to repress flowed in streams. She leaned heavily on
+Ludwig's arm, and he felt the violent throbbing of her heart. It
+touched him and awakened his compassion. He perceived that hers, too,
+was a suffering soul seeking salvation here, and if she did not find
+it, would perish. &quot;It shall be yours, poor woman; for rich as you may
+be, you are still poor--and we will give you what we can!&quot; he thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The two companions pursued their way, without exchanging another word.
+The countess now greeted the old house like a lost home which she had
+once more regained.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Andreas Gross met her at the door, took off her shawl, and carried it
+into the room for her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha had already returned and said that the countess was ill.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I hope it is nothing serious?&quot; he asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, Herr Gross, I am well--but I cannot go; I must make the
+acquaintance of these people--I cannot tear myself away from this
+impression!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She sank into a chair, laid her head on the table and sobbed like a
+child. &quot;Forgive me, Herr Gross, I cannot help it!&quot; she said with
+difficulty, amid her tears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old man laid his hand upon her shoulder with a gesture of paternal
+kindness. &quot;Weep your fill, we are accustomed to it, do not heed us!&quot; He
+drew her gently into the sitting-room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig had vanished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha entered to ask whether she should unpack the luggage which was
+up in her room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; replied the countess, &quot;and let the carriages return to Munich,
+until I need them again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;His Highness the Prince has left his valet here for your service,&quot;
+Josepha reported.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What can he do? Let him go home, too! Let them all go--I want no one
+except you!&quot; said the countess sternly, hiding her face again in her
+handkerchief. Josepha went out to give the order. Where could Ludwig
+Gross be?--He had become a necessity to her now, thus left alone with
+her overflowing heart! He had been right in everything.--He had told
+her that she would learn to weep here, he had first made her understand
+the spirit of Ammergau. Honor and gratitude were his due, he had
+promised nothing that had not been fulfilled. He was thoroughly genuine
+and reliable! But where had he gone, did not this man, usually so
+sympathetic, know that just now he might be of great help to her? Or
+did he look deeper <i>still</i>, and know that he was but a substitute
+for another, for whom her whole soul yearned? It was so lonely. A
+death-like stillness reigned in the house and in the street. All were
+resting after the heavy toil of the day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something outside darkened the window. Ludwig Gross was passing on his
+way toward the door, bringing with him a tan, dark figure, towering far
+above the low window, a figure that moved shyly, swiftly along,
+followed by a throng of people, at a respectful distance. The countess
+felt paralyzed. Was <i>he</i> coming? Was he coming in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She could not rise and look--she sat with clasped hands, trembling in
+humble expectation, as Danae waited the moment when the shower of gold
+should fall. Then--steps echoed in the workshop--the footsteps of
+two--! They were an eternity in passing down its length--but they were
+really approaching her room--they came nearer--some one knocked!
+She scarcely had breath to call &quot;come in.&quot; She would not believe
+it--from the fear of disappointment. She still sat motionless at the
+table--Ludwig Gross opened the door to allow the other to precede
+him--and <i>Freyer</i> entered. He stooped slightly, that he might not
+strike his head, but that was needless, for--what miracle was this? The
+door expanded before the countess' eyes, the ceiling rose higher and
+higher above him. A wide lofty space filled with dazzling light
+surrounded him. Colors glittered before her vision, figures floated to
+and fro; were they shadows or angels? She knew not, a mist veiled her
+eyes--for a moment she ceased to think. Then she felt as if she had
+awaked from a deep slumber, during which she had been walking in her
+sleep--for she suddenly found herself face to face with Freyer, he was
+holding her hands in his, while his eyes rested on hers--in speechless
+silence.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><img src="images/p102.png" alt="page102"><br><i>She suddenly found herself face to face with Freyer</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then she regained her self-control and the first words she uttered were
+addressed to Ludwig: &quot;You have brought <i>him</i>--!&quot; she said, releasing
+Freyer's hands to thank the man who had so wonderfully guessed her
+yearning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gift and gratitude were equal--and here both were measureless! She
+scarcely knew at this moment which she valued more, the man who brought
+this donation or the gift itself. But from this hour Ludwig Gross was
+her benefactor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have brought <i>him</i>&quot;--she repeated, for she knew not what more to
+say--that one word contained <i>all</i>! Had she possessed the eloquence of
+the universe, it would not have been so much to Ludwig as that <i>one</i>
+word and the look which accompanied it. Then, like a child at
+Christmas, which, after having expressed its thanks, goes back happily
+to its presents, she turned again to Freyer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet, as the child stands timidly before the abundance of its gifts,
+and, in the first moments of surprise, does not venture to touch them,
+she now stood, shy and silent before him, her only language her eyes
+and the tears which streamed down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer saw her deep emotion and, bending kindly toward her, again took
+her hands in his. Every nerve was still quivering--she could feel
+it--from the terrible exertion he had undergone--and as the moisture
+drips from the trees after the rain, his eyes still swam in tears, and
+his face was damp with perspiration.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How shall I thank you for coming to me after this day of toil?&quot; she
+began in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><img src="images/p422.png" alt="page 422"><br>
+<i>She suddenly found herself face to face with Freyer</i>.]</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Countess,&quot; he answered with untroubled truthfulness, &quot;I did it for
+the sake of my friend Ludwig--he insisted upon it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So it was only on his friend's account,&quot; thought the countess,
+standing with bowed head before him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was now the king--and she, the queen of her brilliant sphere, was
+nothing save a poor, hoping, fearing woman!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At this moment all the vanity of her worldly splendor fell from
+her--for the first time in her life she stood in the presence of a man
+where <i>she</i> was the supplicant, he the benefactor. What a feeling! At
+once humiliating and blissful, confusing and enthralling! She had
+recognized by that one sentence the real state of the case--what
+to this man was the halo surrounding the Reichscountess von Wildenau
+with her coronet and her millions? Joseph Freyer knew but one
+aristocracy--that of the saints in whose sphere he was accustomed to
+move--and if he left it for the sake of an earthly woman, he would
+stoop to her, no matter how far, according to worldly ideals, she might
+stand above him!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet poor and insignificant as she felt in his presence--while the
+lustre of her coronet and the glitter of her gold paled and vanished in
+the misty distance--<i>one</i> thing remained on which she could rely, her
+womanly charm, and this must wield its influence were she a queen or
+the child of a wood-cutter! &quot;Then, for the earthly crown you have torn
+from my head, proud man, you shall give me your crown of thorns, and I
+will <i>still</i> be queen!&quot; she thought, as the spirit of Mother Eve
+stirred within her and an intoxicating breeze blew from the Garden of
+Paradise. Not for the sake of a base emotion of vanity and
+covetousness, nay, she wished to be loved, in order to <i>bless</i>. It is
+the nature of a noble woman to seek to use her power not to receive,
+but to give, to give without stint or measure. The brain thinks
+quickly--but the heart is swifter still! Ere the mind has time to grasp
+the thought, the heart has seized it. The countess had experienced all
+this in the brief space during which Freyer's eyes rested on her.
+Suddenly he lowered his lashes and said in a whisper: &quot;I think we have
+met before, countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On my arrival Friday evening. You were standing on the top of the
+mountain while I was driving at the foot. Was it not so?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; he murmured almost inaudibly, and there was something like an
+understanding, a sweet familiarity in the soft assent. She felt it, and
+her hand clasped his more firmly with a gentle pressure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He again raised his lashes, gazing at her with an earnest, questioning
+glance, and it seemed as if she felt a pulse throbbing in the part of
+the hand which bore the mark of the wound--the warning did not fail to
+produce its effect.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Christus, my Christus!&quot; she whispered repentantly. It seemed as if she
+had committed a sin in suffering an earthly wish to touch the envoy of
+God. He was crucified, dead, and buried. He only walked on earth like a
+spirit permitted to return from time to time and dwell for a brief
+space among the living. Who could claim a spirit, clasp a shadow to the
+heart? Grief oppressed her, melancholy, akin to the grief we feel when
+we dream of the return of some beloved one who is dead, and throw
+ourselves sobbing on his breast, while we are aware that it is only a
+dream! But even if but a dream, should she not dream it with her whole
+soul? If she knew that he was given to her only a few moments, should
+she not crowd into them with all the sweeter, more sorrowful strength,
+the love of a whole life?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After us the deluge, says love to the moment--and that which does not
+say it is not love.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But in this <i>moment</i>, the countess felt, lay the germ of something
+imperishable, and when it was past there would begin for her--not
+annihilation, but <i>eternity</i>. To it she must answer for what she did
+with the moment!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross was standing by the window, he did not wish to listen what
+was communicated by the mute language of those eyes. He had perceived,
+with subtle instinct, the existence of some mysterious connection, in
+which no third person had any part. They were alone--virtually alone,
+yet neither spoke, only their tearful eyes expressed the suffering
+which he endured and <i>she</i> shared in beholding.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, poor martyr!&quot; cried her heart, and she released one of his hands
+to clasp the other more closely with both her own. She noticed a slight
+quiver. &quot;Does your hand still ache--from the terrible nail which seemed
+to be driven into your flesh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no, that would cause no pain; the nail passes between the fingers
+and the large head extends toward the center of the palm. But to-day,
+by accident, Joseph of Arimathea in drawing out the nail took a piece
+of the flesh with it, so that I clenched my teeth with the pain!&quot; he
+said, smiling, and showing her the wound. &quot;Do you see? Now I am really
+stigmatized!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens, there is a large piece of the flesh torn out, and you
+bore it without wincing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, of course!&quot; he said, simply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig gazed fixedly out of the window. The countess had gently drawn
+the wounded hand nearer and nearer; suddenly forgetting everything in
+an unutterable feeling, she stooped and ere Freyer could prevent it
+pressed a kiss upon the bloody stigma.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Joseph Freyer shrank as though struck by a thunderbolt, drawing back
+his hand and closing it as if against some costly gift which he dared
+not accept. A deep flush crimsoned his brow, his broad chest heaved
+passionately and he was obliged to cling to a chair, to save himself
+from falling. Yet unconsciously his eyes flashed with a fire at once
+consuming and life-bestowing--a Prometheus spark!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are weary, pardon me for not having asked you to sit down long
+ago!&quot; said the countess, making an effort to calm herself, and
+motioning to Ludwig Gross, in order not to leave him standing alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Only a moment&quot;--whispered Freyer, also struggling to maintain his
+composure, as he sank into a chair. Madeleine von Wildenau turned away,
+to give him time to regain his self-command. She saw his intense
+emotion, and might perhaps have been ashamed of her hasty act had she
+not known its meaning--for her feeling at that moment was too sacred
+for him to have misunderstood it. Nor had he failed to comprehend, but
+it had overpowered him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig, who dearly perceived the situation, interposed with his usual
+tact to relieve their embarrassment: &quot;Freyer is particularly exhausted
+to-day; he told me, on our way here, that he had again been taken from
+the cross senseless.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens, does that happen often?&quot; asked the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Unfortunately, yes,&quot; said Ludwig in a troubled tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is terrible--your father told me that the long suspension on the
+cross was dangerous. Can nothing be done to relieve it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Something might be accomplished,&quot; replied Ludwig, &quot;by substituting a
+flat cross for the rounded one. Formerly, when we had a smooth, angular
+one, it did not tax his strength so much! But some authority in
+archæology told us that the crosses of those days were made of
+semi-circular logs, and this curve, over which the back is now
+strained, stretches the limbs too much.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I should think so!&quot; cried the countess in horror. &quot;Why do you use such
+an instrument of torture?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He himself insists upon it, for the sake of historical accuracy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But suppose you should not recover, from one of these fainting fits?&quot;
+asked the lady, reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then Freyer, conquering his agitation, raised his head. &quot;What more
+beautiful fate could be mine, Countess, than to die on the cross, like
+my redeemer? It is all that I desire.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All?&quot; she repeated, and a keen emotion of jealousy assailed her,
+jealousy of the cross, to which he would fain devote his life! She met
+his dark eyes with a look, a sweet, yearning--fatal look--a poisoned
+arrow whose effect she well knew. She grudged him to the cross, the
+dead, wooden instrument of martyrdom, which did not feel, did not love,
+did not long for him as she did! And the true Christ? Ah, He was too
+noble to demand such a sacrifice--besides. He would receive too souls
+for one, for surely, in His image, she loved <i>Him</i>. He had sent her the
+hand marked with blood stains to show her the path to Him--He could not
+desire to withdraw it, ere the road was traversed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are a martyr in the true sense of the word,&quot; she said. Her eyes
+seemed to ask whether the shaft had struck. But Freyer had lowered his
+lids and sat gazing at the floor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Countess,&quot; he said evasively, &quot;to have one's limbs wrenched for
+half an hour does not make a martyr. That suffering brings honor and
+the consciousness of serving others. Many, like my friend Ludwig, and
+other natives of Ammergau, offer to our cause secret sacrifices of
+happiness which no audience beholds and applauds, and which win
+no renown save in their own eyes and God's. <i>They</i> are martyrs,
+Countess!--I am merely a vain, spoiled, sinful man, who has enough to
+do to keep himself from being dazzled by the applause of the world and
+to become worthy of his task.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To <i>become</i>!&quot; the countess repeated. &quot;I think whoever speaks in that
+way, <i>is</i> worthy already.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer raised his eyes with a look which seemed to Madeleine von
+Wildenau to lift her into a higher realm. &quot;Who would venture to say
+that he was worthy of <i>this</i> task? It requires a saint. All I can hope
+for is that God will use the imperfect tool to work His miracles, and
+that He will accept my <i>will</i> for the deed,--otherwise I should be
+forced to give up the part <i>this very day</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess was deeply moved.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Freyer, wonderful, divinely gifted nature! To us you are the
+Redeemer, and yet you are so severe to yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not talk so, Countess! I must not listen! I will not add to all my
+sins that of robbing my Master, in His garb, of what belongs to <i>Him</i>
+alone. You cannot suspect how it troubles me when people show me this
+reverence; I always long to cry out, 'Do not confound me with Him--I am
+nothing more than the wood--or the marble from which an image of the
+Christ is carved, and withal <i>bad</i> wood, marble which is not free from
+stains.' And when they will not believe it, and continue to transfer to
+me the love which they ought to have for Christ--I feel that I am
+robbing my Master, and no one knows how I suffer.&quot; He started up. &quot;That
+is why I mingle so little with others--and if I ever break this rule I
+repent it, for my peace of mind is destroyed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He took his hat. His whole nature seemed changed--this was the chaste
+severity with which he had driven the money changers from the temple,
+and Madeleine turned pale--chilled to the inmost heart by his
+inflexible bearing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you going?&quot; she murmured in a trembling voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is time,&quot; he answered, gently, but with an unapproachable dignity
+which made the words with which she would fain have entreated him to
+stay longer, die upon her lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your Highness win leave to morrow?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The countess intends to remain some time,&quot; said Ludwig, pressing his
+friend's arm lightly, as a warning not to wound her feeling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah,&quot; replied Freyer, thoughtfully, &quot;then perhaps we shall meet again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have not yet answered what you have said to-day; will you permit me
+to do so to-morrow?&quot; asked the countess, gently; an expression of quiet
+suffering hovered around her lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To-morrow I play the Christ again, Countess--but doubtless some
+opportunity will be found within the next few days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As you please--farewell!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer bowed respectfully, but as distantly as if he did not think it
+possible that the lady would offer him her hand. Ludwig, on the
+contrary, as if to make amends for his friend's omission, frankly
+extended his. She clasped it, saying in a low, hurried tone: &quot;Stay!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will merely go with Freyer to the door, and then return, if you will
+allow me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; she said, dismissing Freyer with a haughty wave of the hand.
+Then, throwing herself into the chair by the table, she burst into
+bitter weeping. She had always been surrounded by men who sued for her
+favor as though it were a royal gift. And here--here she was disdained,
+and by whom? A man of the people--a plebeian! No, a keen pang pierced
+her heart as she tried to give him that name. If <i>he</i> was a plebeian,
+so, too, was Christ. Christ, too, sprang from the people--the ideal of
+the human race was born in a <i>manger</i>! She could summon to confront Him
+only <i>one</i> kind of pride, that of the <i>woman</i>, not of the high-born
+lady. Alas--she had not even <i>this</i>. How often she had flung her heart
+away without love. For the mess of pottage of gratified vanity or an
+interesting situation, as the prince had said yesterday, she had
+bartered the birthright of the holiest feeling. Of what did she dare to
+be proud? That, for the first time in her life, she really loved? Was
+she to avenge herself by arrogance upon the man who had awakened this
+divine emotion because he did not share it? No, that would be petty and
+ungrateful. Yet what could she do? He was so far above her in his
+unassuming simplicity, so utterly inviolable. She was captured by his
+nobility, her weapons were powerless against him. As she gazed around
+her for some support by which she might lift herself above him, every
+prop of her former artificial life snapped in her grasp before the
+grand, colossal verity of this apparition. She could do nothing save
+love and suffer, and accept whatever fate he bestowed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some one knocked at the door; almost mechanically she gave the
+permission to enter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross came in noiselessly and approached her. Without a word she
+held out her hand, as a patient extends it to the physician. He stood
+by her side and his eyes rested on the weeping woman with the sympathy
+and understanding born of experience in suffering. But his presence was
+infinitely soothing. This man would allow nothing to harm her! So far
+as his power extended, she was safe.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She looked at him as if beseeching help--and he understood her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer was unusually excited to-day,&quot; he said, &quot;I do not know what was
+passing in his mind. I never saw him in such a mood before! When we
+entered the garden, he embraced me as if something extraordinary had
+happened, and then rushed off as though the ground was burning under
+his feet--of course in the direction opposite to his home, for the
+whole street was full of people waiting to see him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess held her breath to listen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was he in this mood when you called for him?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, he was as usual, calm and weary.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What changed him so suddenly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I believe, Countess, that you have made an impression upon him which
+he desires to understand. You have thrown him out of the regular
+routine, and he no longer comprehends his own feelings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But I--I said so little--I don't understand,&quot; cried the countess,
+blushing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The important point does not always depend on what is said, but on
+what is <i>not</i> said, Countess. To deep souls what is unuttered is often
+more significant than words.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau lowered her eyes and silently clasped Ludwig's
+hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you think that he--&quot; she did not finish the sentence, Ludwig spared
+her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;From my knowledge of Freyer--either he will <i>never</i> return, or--he
+will come <i>to-morrow</i>.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">CHAPTER IX.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>SIGNS AND WONDERS</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The great number of strangers who were unable to get tickets
+the day
+before had rendered a second performance necessary. The countess did
+not attend it. To her the play had been no spectacle, but an
+experience--a repetition would have degraded it to a mere drama. She
+had spent the day in retirement, like a prisoner, that she might not
+fall into the hands of any acquaintances. Now the distant rumble of
+carriages announced the close of the performance. It was a delightful
+autumn evening. The Gross family came to the window on their return
+home, and wondered to find the countess still in her room. The sounds
+of stifled sobs echoed from the work room. The other lodgers in the
+house had come back from the theatre and, like every one, were paying
+their tribute of tears. An American had gone to-day for the second
+time. He sat weeping on the bench near the stove, and said that it had
+been even more touching than yesterday. Andreas Gross assented: &quot;Yes,
+Joseph Freyer never played as he did to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, sitting in her room, heard the words and was strangely
+moved. Why had he never played as he did <i>to-day</i>?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some one tapped gently on the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A burning blush suffused the countess' face--had <i>he</i>--? He might have
+passed through the garden from the other side to avoid the spectators.
+&quot;Come in!&quot; she called.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was Josepha with a telegram in her hand. The messenger was waiting
+for an answer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess opened it and read the contents. It was from the prince.
+&quot;Please inform me whether I shall countermand the dinner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well. I will send the reply.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha withdrew.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If Ludwig were only here!&quot; thought the countess. &quot;He must be waiting
+to bring Freyer, as he did yesterday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The rapid pulsing of her heart almost stifled her. One quarter of an
+hour passed after another. At last Ludwig came--but alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess was sitting at the open window and Ludwig paused beside
+it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, how was the play to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Magnificent,&quot; he replied. &quot;I never saw Freyer so superb. He was
+perfect, fairly superhuman! It is a pity that you were not there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did he inquire for me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. I explained to him that you did not wish to see it a second
+time--and for what reason. He nodded and said: 'I am glad the lady
+feels so.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then--we understand each other!&quot; The countess drew a long breath. &quot;Did
+you ask him to come here with you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. I thought I ought not to do that--he must come now of his own free
+will, or you would be placed in a false position.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are right--I thank you!&quot; said the countess, turning pale and
+biting her lips. &quot;Do you think that--he will come?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Unfortunately, no--he went directly home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you do me a favor?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, Countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Despatch a telegram for me. I have arranged to give a dinner party at
+home and should like to send a message that I am coming.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You will not remain here longer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No!&quot; she said in a tone sharp and cutting as a knife which is thrust
+into one's own heart. &quot;Come in, please.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig obeyed the command and she wrote with the bearing of a queen
+signing a death-warrant:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="continue">&quot;<span class="sc">Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim</span>, Munich.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will come at five to-morrow. Dinner can be given.</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:50%">&quot;<span class="sc">Madeleine</span>.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here, if you will be so kind,&quot; she said, handing the sheet to Ludwig.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The latter gazed earnestly at her, as though he wanted to say: &quot;If only
+you don't repent it.&quot; But he asked the question in the modest wording:
+&quot;Shall I send it <i>at once</i>?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, if you please!&quot; she answered, and her whole manner expressed a
+coldness which startled Ludwig.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can genuine warmth of heart freeze so quickly?&quot; he asked himself.
+Madeleine von Wildenau felt the mute reproach and disappointment in
+Ludwig's manner. She felt, too, that he was right, and called him back
+as he reached the door. &quot;Give it to me,&quot; she said, taking the telegram,
+&quot;I will consider the matter.&quot; Then meeting the eyes of the noble man,
+which now brightened again for her sake, she added earnestly, holding
+out her hand, &quot;You understand me better than I do myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you for those words--they make me very proud, Countess!&quot; said
+Ludwig with a radiant glance, placing the telegram on the table. &quot;I
+will go now that I may not disturb you while you are considering what
+course to pursue.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He left the room. Twilight was gathering. The countess sat by the table
+holding the telegram clenched in her little hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The people of Ammergau unconsciously exercise a moral constraint which
+is irresistible. There is a power of truth in them which prevents even
+self-deception in their presence!&quot; she murmured half defiantly, half
+admiringly. What was to be done now? To remain longer here and
+countermand the dinner meant a positive breach with society. But who
+was there <i>here</i> to thank her for such a sacrifice? Who cared for the
+Countess Wildenau? She was one of the thousands who came and went,
+taking with them a lofty memory, without leaving any remembrance in the
+mind of any one. Why should she hold them accountable if she gave to
+this impression a significance which was neither intended nor
+suspected. We must not force upon men sacrifices which they do not
+desire!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She rested her arm on the table and sat irresolute. Now--now in this
+mood, to return to the prosaic, superficial round, after imagining
+yesterday that she stood face to face with deity? <i>Could</i> she do it?
+Was not the mute reproach in Ludwig's glance true? She thoughtfully
+rested her beautiful face on her hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had not noticed a knock at the door, a carriage was driving by
+whose rattle drowned every sound. For the same reason the person
+outside, supposing that he had not heard the &quot;come in!&quot; softy opened
+the door. At the noise the countess raised her head--Freyer stood
+before her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have come, you <i>did</i> come!&quot; she exclaimed, starting up and seizing
+his hand that the sweet, blissful dream might not vanish once more.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Excuse me if I disturb you,&quot; he said in a low, timid tone. &quot;I--I
+should not have come--but I could not bear to stay at home, I was so
+excited to-day. When evening came, some impulse drove me here--I was--I
+had--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You had a desire to talk to some one who could understand you, and
+this urged you to me, did it not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Countess! But I should not have ventured to come in, had not--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ludwig met me and said that you were going away--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah--and did you regret it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wished at least to bid you farewell and thank you for all your
+kindness to my unhappy cousin Josepha!&quot; he said evasively. &quot;I neglected
+to do so yesterday, I was so embarrassed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are not sincere with me, Herr Freyer!&quot; said the countess,
+motioning to him to sit down. &quot;This expression of thanks does not come
+from your heart, for you do not care what I do for Josepha. That is
+merely the pretext for coming to me--because you do not wish to confess
+what really brought you. Am I not right?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Countess!&quot; said Freyer, completely disconcerted, as he tried to rise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She gently laid her hand on his, detaining him. &quot;Stay! Your standard is
+so rigid in everything--what is your view of truth?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer fixed his eyes on the floor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it <i>true</i>, when you say that you came to thank me for Josepha? Were
+you not drawn hither by the feeling that, of all the thousands of souls
+who pass you in the course of the summer, perhaps there is not one who
+could understand you and your task as I do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer clasped his hands on his knees and silently bent his head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps you have not thought of me as I have thought of you, all day
+long, since our eyes met on the mountain, as though some higher power
+had pointed us out to each other.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer remained silent, but as the full cup overflows at the slightest
+movement, tears again gushed from his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why did you look at me so from head to foot, pouring forth in that
+gaze your whole soul with a world of grief and joy, as a blossoming
+tree showers its flowers on the passer-by? Surely not on account of a
+woman's face, though it may be passably fair, but because you felt that
+I perceived the Christ in you and that it was <i>He</i> for whom I came.
+Your glance meant to tell me: 'It is I whom you are seeking!' and I
+believe you. And when at last the promise was fulfilled and the long
+sought redeemer stood before me, was it by chance that his prophetic
+eye discovered me among the thousands of faces when he said: 'But in
+many hearts day will soon dawn!' Did you not seek me, as we look for a
+stranger to whom we must fulfill a promise given on the journey?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer now raised his dark eyes and fixed them full upon her, but made
+no reply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And is it true that you came yesterday, only because Ludwig wished it,
+you who, spite of all entreaties, have kept ladies who had the world at
+their feet waiting on your stairs for hours? Did you not come because
+you suspected that I might be the woman with whom, since that meeting,
+you had had some incomprehensible spiritual bond?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer covered his eyes with his hand, as if he was afraid more might
+be read in them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Be truthful, Herr Freyer, it is unworthy of you and of me to play a
+conventional farce. I am compelled to act so many in my life that I
+would fain for once be frank, as mortal to mortal! Tell me simply, have
+I judged correctly--yes or no?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes!&quot; whispered Freyer, without looking up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She gently drew his hand down. &quot;And to-day--to-day--did you come merely
+out of gratitude for your cousin?&quot; she questioned with the archness of
+her increasing certainty of happiness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He caught the little hand with which she had clasped his, and raised it
+ardently to his lips; then, as if startled that he had allowed himself
+to be carried so far, he flung back his raven locks as if they had
+deluded his senses, and pushed his chair farther away in order not to
+be again led into temptation. She did not interfere--she knew that he
+was in her power--struggle as he might, the dart was fixed. Yet the
+obstacles she had to conquer were great and powerful. Coquetry would be
+futile, only the moral force of a <i>genuine</i> feeling could cope with
+them, and of this she was conscious, with a happiness never felt
+before. Again she searched her own heart, and her rapid glance wandered
+from the thorn-scarred brow of the wonderful figure before her, to
+pierce the depths of her own soul. Her love for him was genuine, she
+was not toying with his heart; she wished, like Mary Magdalene, to
+sanctify herself in his love. But she was the Magdalene in the <i>first</i>
+stage. Had Christ been a <i>man</i>, and attainable like <i>this</i> man, what
+transformations the Penitent's heart must have undergone, ere its fires
+wrought true purification.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Herr Freyer,&quot; the countess began in a low, eager tone, &quot;you said
+yesterday that it troubled you when people showed you idolatrous
+reverence and you felt that you thereby robbed your Master. Can we give
+aught to any earthly being without giving it to <i>God</i>?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer listened intently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is there any soul which does not belong to God, did not emanate from
+<i>Him</i>, is not a part of <i>His</i> power? And does not that which flows
+from
+one part to another stream back in a perpetual circle to the <i>Creator</i>?
+We can <i>take</i> nothing which does not come from God, <i>give</i> nothing
+which does not return to Him. Do you know the principle of the
+preservation of power?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; said Freyer, confused by his ignorance of something he was asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, it can be explained in a very few words. Science has proved that
+nothing in the universe can be lost, that even a force which is
+apparently uselessly squandered is merely transformed into another.
+Thus in God nothing can be lost, even though it has no direct relation
+to Him--for he is the <i>spiritual</i> universe. True, <i>every</i> feeling does
+not produce a work of God, any more than every effort of nature brings
+forth some positive result. But as in the latter case the force
+expended is not lost, because it produces other, though secondary
+results, so in <i>God</i> no sentiment of love and enthusiasm is lost, even
+though it may relate to Him only in a secondary degree.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very true.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then if that <i>is</i> so,--how can any one rob this God, who surrounds us
+like the universe, from which we come, into which we pass again, and in
+which our forces are constantly transformed in a perpetual round of
+change.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer rested his head on his hand, absorbed in thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And if a feeling is so deeply rooted in religion, so directly
+associated with God as that which men offer to you. His representative,
+why should you have these scruples?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have never heard any one talk in this way! Pardon my
+faint-heartedness, and ignorance--I am a poor, simple-hearted man--you
+will be indulgent, will you not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer!&quot; cried the countess, deeply moved, and spite of the distance
+to which he had pushed his chair, held out her hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You see, I had no opportunity to attend a higher school, I was so
+poor. I lost my parents when a lad of twelve and received only the most
+necessary instruction. All my knowledge I obtained afterwards by
+reading, and it is of course defective and insufficient. On our
+mountains, beside our rushing streams, among the hazel bushes whose
+nuts were often my only food, I grew up, watching the horses sent to
+pasture with their colts. Up by St. Gregory's chapel, where the Leine
+falls over the cliffs, I left the animals grazing in the wide meadows,
+flung myself down in a field of gentian and, lying on my back, gazed
+upward into the blue sky and thought it must surely open, the
+transparent atmosphere <i>must</i> at last be pierced--as the bird imagines,
+when it dashes its head against a pane of glass--so I learned to think
+of God! And when my brain and heart grew giddy, as if I were destined
+for something better, when a longing overwhelmed me which my simple
+meditations could not quell, I caught one of my young horses by the
+mane, swung myself on its bare back, and swept over the broad plain,
+feeling myself a king.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He extended his arms, and now his face was suddenly
+transformed--laughing, bright, joyous as the Swedes imagine their
+Neck, the kind, friendly water sprite who still retains some of the
+mythical blood of the Northern god of Spring, Freyer's namesake. &quot;Ah,
+Countess--that was poetry! Who could restore <i>those</i> days; that
+childish ignorance, that happy hope, that freedom of innocence!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again, like the pictures in a kaleidoscope, his expression changed and
+a gloomy melancholy spread its veil over his brow. &quot;Alas!--that is all
+over! My light-footed colts have become weary, clumsy animals, dragging
+loaded wains, and I--I drag no less wearily the burden of life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How can you speak so at the moment when, yourself a miracle, you are
+revealing to men the miracles of God? Is it not ungrateful!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no, Countess, I am grateful! But I do not so separate myself from
+my part that I could be happy while portraying the sufferings of my
+Redeemer! Do you imagine that I have merely learned the words by heart?
+With His form, I have also taken His cross upon me! Since that time all
+my youth has fled and a touch of pain pervades my whole life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then you are His true follower--then you are doing what Simon of
+Cyrene did! And do <i>you</i> believe that you ought not to accept even the
+smallest portion of the gratitude which men owe to the Crucified One?
+Must you share only His sufferings, not His joys, the joys bestowed by
+the love and faith of moved and converted souls? Surely if you are so
+narrow-minded, you understand neither yourself nor the love of God, Who
+has chosen and favored you from among millions to renew to the world
+the forgotten message of salvation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh God, oh God!--help me to keep my humility--this is too much.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer started up and pressed his hand upon his brow as if to ward off
+an invisible crown which was descending upon it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess also rose and approached him. &quot;Freyer, the suffering you
+endure for Christ's sake, I share with you! It is the mystery in which
+our souls found each other. Pain is eternal, Freyer, and that to which
+it gives birth is imperishable! What do we feel when we stand before a
+painted or sculptured image of the Crucified One? Pity, the most
+agonizing pity! I have never been willing to believe it--but since
+yesterday I have known that it is a solace to the believing soul to
+bestow a tender embrace upon the lifeless image and to touch the
+artificial wounds with ardent lips. What must it be when that image
+loves, feels, and suffers! When it speaks to us in tones that thrill
+the inmost heart? When we see it quiver and bleed under the lashes of
+the executioner--when the sweat of agony trickles from the brow and
+<i>real</i> tears flow from the eyes? I ask, <i>what</i> must this be to us?
+Imagine yourself for once the person who <i>sees this</i>--and then judge
+whether it is not overpowering? If faith in the <i>stone</i> Christ works
+miracles--why should not belief in the <i>living</i> one do far more? The
+pious delusion is so much the greater, and <i>faith</i> brings blessing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She clasped her hands upon his breast</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, image of mercy, bend down to me. Let me clasp your beloved head
+and press upon your tortured brow the kiss of reconciliation for all
+penitent humanity!&quot; Then, taking his face between her hands, she
+lightly pressed a fervent kiss upon the brow gently inclined toward
+her. &quot;Now go and lament that you have robbed your Master of this
+kiss. He will ask, with a smile: 'Do you know for whom that kiss was
+meant--<i>thee</i> or <i>me</i>?' And you will be spared an answer, for when you
+raise your eyes to Him, you will find it imprinted on <i>His</i> brow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She paused, overpowered by the sacredness of the moment. There are
+times when our own words influence us like some unknown force, because
+they express something which has been so deeply concealed in our hearts
+that we ourselves were ignorant of its existence. This was the case now
+with the countess. Freyer stood silently with clasped hands, as if in
+church.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It seemed as though some third person was addressing them--an invisible
+person whom they must hold their very breath to understand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It had grown late. The waning moon floated high above the low window
+and brightened the little room with its cheering rays. The countess
+nodded. &quot;It is fulfilled!&quot; Then she laid her hands in Freyer's: &quot;For
+the first time since my childhood I place my soul in the keeping of a
+human being! For the first time since my childhood, I strip off all the
+arrogance of reason, for a higher perception is hovering above me,
+drawing nearer and nearer with blissful certainty! Is it love, is it
+faith? Whichever it may be--God dwells in <i>both</i>. And--if philosophy
+says: 'I <i>think</i>, therefore I <i>am</i>,' I say: 'I <i>love</i>, therefore
+I
+<i>believe</i>!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She humbly bowed her head. &quot;And therefore I beseech you. Bless me, you
+who are so divinely endowed, with the blessing which is shed upon and
+emanates from you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer raised his eyes to Heaven as if to call down the benediction she
+implored, and there was such power in the fervid gaze that Madeleine
+von Wildenau experienced a thrill almost of fear, as if in the presence
+of some supernatural being. Then he made the sign of the cross over
+her: &quot;In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
+Ghost.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A tremor of foreboding ran through her limbs as if the finger of God
+had marked her for some mysterious destination and, with this rune, she
+had been enrolled in the pallid host of those consecrated by sorrow as
+followers of the deity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With sweet submission she clasped the hand which had just imprinted the
+mournful sign on brow and breast: &quot;In the name of God, if only <i>you</i>
+are near me!&quot; Her head drooped on her bosom. Some one knocked at the
+door, the countess' brain reeled so much that she was forced to cling
+to Freyer for support.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha timidly asked if she wanted a light.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Light! Was it <i>dark</i>?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well,&quot; she answered absently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha brought the lamp and enquired when the countess desired to have
+supper? Freyer took his hat to go.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I shall eat nothing more to-night!&quot; said the countess in a curt,
+impatient tone, and Josepha timidly withdrew.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau covered her face with both hands like a person
+who had been roused from a beautiful dream to bare reality.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas--that there must be other people in the world, besides
+ourselves!&quot; She sighed heavily, as if to take breath after the terrible
+fall. Freyer, hat in hand, approached her, calm and self-controlled.
+Joseph Freyer, addressing Countess Wildenau, had no remembrance of what
+the penitent soul had just confided to the image of the Redeemer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Allow me to take my leave, your Highness,&quot; he said in a gentle, but
+distant tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess understood the delicate modesty of this conduct. &quot;Did your
+blue gentians teach this tact? It would seem that lonely pastures,
+whispering hazel copses, and dashing mountain streams are better
+educators of the heart, for those who understand their mysterious
+language, than many of our schools.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer was silent a moment, then with eyes bent on the floor, he said:
+&quot;May I ask when your Highness intends to leave to-morrow?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Must</i> I go, Freyer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your Highness--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here is a telegram which announces my arrival at home to-morrow. Tell
+me, Freyer, shall I send it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How can <i>I</i> decide--&quot; stammered Freyer in confusion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wish to know whether you--<i>you</i>, Freyer, would like to keep me
+here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But Good Heavens, your Highness--is it seemly for me to express such a
+wish? Of course it will be a great pleasure to have you remain--but how
+could I seek to influence you in any way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mere phrases!&quot; said the countess, disappointed and offended. &quot;Then, if
+it is a matter of indifference to you whether I go or stay, I will send
+the telegram.&quot; She went to the table to add something.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Suddenly he stood close beside her, with a beseeching, tearful
+glance--and laid his hand upon the paper.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No--do not send it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not send it?&quot; asked Madeleine in blissful expectation. &quot;Not send
+it--then what am I to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His lips moved several times, as if he could not utter the word--but at
+last it escaped from his closed heart, and with an indescribable smile
+he murmured: &quot;Stay!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah! A low cry of exultation escaped the countess, and the telegram lay
+torn upon the table. Then with a trembling hand she wrote the second,
+which she requested him to send at once. It contained only the words:
+&quot;Am ill--cannot come!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was still standing at her side, and she gave it to him to read.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it true?&quot; he asked, after glancing at it, looking at her with
+timid, sportive reproach. &quot;Are you ill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes!&quot; she said caressingly, laying her hand, as if she felt a pang,
+upon her heart. &quot;I <i>am</i>!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He clasped both in his own and asked softly in a tone which sent a
+thrill of happiness through every vein: &quot;How shall we <i>cure</i> this
+illness?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She felt his warm breath on her waving hair--and dared not stir.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then, with sudden resolution he shook off the thrall: &quot;Good-night,
+Countess!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next moment he was hurrying past the window.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig, wondering at his Mend's hasty departure, entered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What has happened, Countess?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Signs and wonders have happened,&quot; she said, extending her arms as if
+transfigured.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE EARLY MORNING</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Rise Mary! Night is darkening and the wintry storms are
+raging--but be
+comforted, in the early morning, in the Spring garden, you will see me
+again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess woke from a short slumber as if some one had uttered the
+words aloud. She glanced around the dusky room, it was still early,
+scarcely a glimmer of light pierced through the chinks of the shutters.
+She tried to sleep again, but in vain. The words constantly rang in her
+ears: &quot;In the early morning you will see me again.&quot; Now the chinks in
+the shutters grew brighter, and one golden arrow after another darted
+through. The countess threw aside the coverlet and started up. Why
+should she torment herself with trying to court sleep? Outside a dewy
+garden offered its temptations.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">True, it was an autumn, not a spring garden. Yet for her it was
+Spring--it had dawned in her heart--the first springtime of her life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Up and away! Should she wake Josepha, who slept above her? Nay, no
+sound, no word must disturb this sacred morning stillness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She dressed and, half an hour later, glided lightly, unseen, into the
+garden.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The clock in the church steeple was striking six. A fresh autumn breeze
+swept like a band of jubilant sprites through the tops of the ancient
+trees, then rushing downward, tossed her silken hair as though it would
+fain bear away the filmy strands to some envious wood-nymph to weave
+nets from it for the poor mortals who might lose themselves in her
+domain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On the ground at her feet, too, the grasses and shrubs swayed and
+rustled as if little gnomes were holding high revel there. A strange
+mood pervaded all nature.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau looked upward; there were huge cloud-shapes in
+the sky, but the sun was shining brightly in a broad expanse of blue.
+The bells were ringing for early mass. The countess clasped her hands.
+Everything was silent and lonely, no eye beheld, no ear heard her, save
+the golden orb above. The birds carolling their matin songs, the
+flowers whose cups were filled with morning dew, the buzzing, humming
+bees--all were celebrating the great matins of awakening nature--and
+she, whose heart was full of the morning dew of the first genuine
+feeling of her life, was she alone not to join in the chorus of
+gratitude of refreshed creation?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There is a language whose key we do not possess. It is the Sanscrit of
+Nature and of the human soul when it communes with the deity. The
+countess sank silently down on the dewy grass. She did not pray in set
+words--there was an interchange of thought, her heart spoke to God, and
+reason knew not what it confided to Him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the early morning in the spring garden &quot;thou wilt see me again!&quot;
+There again spoke the voice which had roused her so early! The countess
+raised her head--but still remained kneeling as if spell-bound. Before
+her stood the Promised One.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She could say nothing save the word uttered by Mary Magdalene:
+&quot;Master!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A loving soul can never be surprised by the object of its love because
+it expects him always and everywhere, yet it appears a miracle when its
+expectation becomes fulfilment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have I interrupted your prater? I did not see you because you were
+kneeling&quot;--he said, gently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You interrupt my prayer--you who first taught me to pray?&quot; she asked,
+holding out her hand that he might help her rise. &quot;Tell me, how did you
+come here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I could not sleep--some yearning urged me to your presence--to your
+garden.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He gently raised her, while she gazed into his eyes as if enraptured.
+&quot;Master!&quot; she repeated. &quot;Oh, my friend, I was like Mary Magdalene, my
+Lord had been taken away and I knew not where they had laid Him. Now I
+know. He was buried in my own heart and the world had rolled the stone
+before it, but yesterday--yesterday He rose and the stone was cast
+aside. So some impulse urged me into the garden early this morning to
+seek Him and lo--He stands before me as He promised.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not speak so!--I am well aware that the words are not meant for me,
+but if you associate Christ so closely with my personality, I fear that
+you will confound Him with me, and that His image will be dimmed, if
+anything should ever shadow mine! I beseech you, Countess, by all that
+is sacred--learn to separate Him from me--or you have not grasped the
+true nature of Christ, and my work will be evil!&quot; He stood before her
+with hand uplifted in prophecy, the outlines of his powerful form were
+sharply relieved against the dewy, shining morning air. Purity,
+chastity, the loftiest, most inspired earnestness were expressed in his
+whole bearing, all the dignity of the soul and of primeval, divinely
+created human nature.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Must not she have that feeling of adoration which always seizes upon us
+whenever, no matter where it may be, the deity is revealed in His
+creations? No, she did not understand what he meant, she only
+understood that there was something divine in him, and that the
+perception of this nearness to God filled her with a happiness never
+known before. Joseph Freyer was the guarantee of the existence of a God
+in whom she had lost faith--why should she imagine Him in any other
+form than the one which she had found Him again? &quot;Thou shalt make
+thyself no graven image!&quot; Must this Puritanically misunderstood literal
+statement destroy man's dearest possession, the <i>symbol of the
+reality</i>? Then the works of Raphael, Titian, and Rubens must be
+effaced, and the unions of miracles of faith, wrought in the souls of
+the human race by the representations of the divine nature.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh blessed image-worship, now I understand your meaning!&quot; she joyously
+exclaimed. &quot;Whoever reviles you has never felt the ardent desire of the
+weak human heart, the captive of the senses, for contact with the
+unapproachable, the sight of the face of the ever concealed yet ever
+felt divinity. Here, here stands the most perfect image Heaven and
+earth ever created, and must I not kneel before it, clasp it with all
+the tendrils of my aspiring soul? No! No one ought, no one can prevent
+me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Half defiantly, half imploringly, the words poured from her inmost soul
+like molten lava. &quot;Let all misunderstand me--save <i>you</i>, Freyer! You,
+by whom God wrought the miracle, ought not to be narrow-minded! <i>You</i>
+ought not to destroy it for me, you least of all!&quot; Then she pleaded,
+appealed to him: &quot;Let saints, let glorified spirits grasp <i>only</i> the
+essence and dispense with the earthly pledge--I cannot! I am a type of
+the millions who live snared by the weaknesses, the ideas, the
+pleasures of the world of sense; do you suddenly require of me the
+abstract purity and spiritualization of religious thought, to which
+only the highest innate or required perfection leads? Be forbearing to
+me--God has various ways of drawing the rebellious to Him! To the soul
+which is capable of material ideas only. He gives revelations by the
+senses until, through pain and sorrow, it has worked its way upward to
+intellectual ones. And until I can behold the <i>real</i> God in His shadowy
+sphere, I shall cling lovingly and devoutly to His <i>image</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She sank on her knees before him in passionate entreaty. &quot;Do not
+destroy it for me, rather aid the pious delusion which is to save me!
+Bear patiently with the woe of a soul seeking its salvation, and leave
+the rest to God!&quot; She leaned her brow against the hand which hung by
+his side and was silent from excess of emotion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The tall, stalwart man stood trembling as Abraham may have stood before
+the thicket when God stayed his uplifted arm and cried in tender love:
+&quot;I will not accept thy sacrifice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had a presentiment that the victim would be snatched from him also,
+if he was too stern, and all the floods of his heart burst forth, all
+the flood gates of love and pity opened. Bending down, he held her head
+in a close, warm clasp between both hands, and touched her forehead
+with quivering lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A low cry of unutterable bliss, and she sank upon his breast; the next
+instant she lifted her warm rosy lips to his.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But he drew back a step in agonizing conflict; &quot;No, Countess, for
+Heavens's sake no, it must not be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why not?&quot; she asked, her face blanching.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let me remain worthy of the miracle God has wrought upon you through
+me. If I am to represent Christ to you, I must at least feel and think
+as He did, so far as my human weakness will permit, or everything will
+be a deception.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess covered her face with her hands. &quot;Ah, no one can utter
+such words who knows aught of love and longing!&quot; she moaned between her
+set teeth in bitter scorn.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you think so?&quot; exclaimed Freyer, and the tone in which he spoke
+pierced her heart like a cry of pain. Drawing her hands from her face,
+he forced her to meet his glowing eyes: &quot;Look at me and see whether the
+tears which now course down my cheeks express no love and longing. Look
+at yourself, your sweet, pouting lips, your sparkling eyes, all your
+radiant charms, and ask yourself whether a man into whose arms such a
+woman falls <i>can</i> remain unmoved? When you have answered these
+questions, say to yourself: 'How that man must love his Saviour, if he
+buys with such sacrifices the right to wear His crown of thorns!'
+Perhaps you will then better understand what I said just now of the
+spirit and nature of Christ.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Countess Madeleine made no reply, but wringing her hands, bent her eyes
+on the ground.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have I wounded you, Countess?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, unto death. But it is best so. I understand you. If I am to love
+you as Christ, you must <i>be</i> Christ. And the more severe you are, the
+higher you raise me! Alas--the pain is keen!&quot; She pressed her hand upon
+her heart as though to close a wound, a pathetic expression of
+resignation rested on her pallid face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Countess, do not make my task too hard for me. I am but mortal!
+Oh, how can I see you suffer? <i>I</i> can renounce everything, but to hurt
+<i>you</i> in doing so--is beyond my power.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not say <i>you</i> in this solemn hour! Call me by my name, I would fain
+hear it once from your lips!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And what <i>is</i> your name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Maria Magdalena.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. You call yourself so under the impression of the Passion Play.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was christened Maria Magdalena von Prankenberg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Maria Magdalena,&quot; he repeated, his eyes resting upon her with deep
+emotion as she stood before him, she whose bearing was usually so
+haughty, now humble, silent, submissive, like the Penitent before the
+Master. Suddenly, overpowered by his feelings, he extended his arms:
+&quot;<i>My</i> Magdalena.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My Master, my salvation,&quot; she sobbed, throwing herself upon his
+breast. He clasped her with a divine gesture of love in his embrace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, God she has flown hither like a frightened dove and nestled in my
+breast. Poor dove, I will conceal and protect you from every rude
+breeze, from every base touch of the world! Build your nest in my
+heart--here you shall rest in the peace of God!&quot; He pressed her head
+close to his heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How you tremble, dove! May I call you so?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, forever!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you wearied by your long flight? Poor dove! Have you fluttered
+hither to me across the wild surges of the world, to bring the olive
+branch, the token of reconciliation, which makes my peace with things
+temporal and eternal? And must I now thrust you from me, saying as
+Christ said to Magdalene! 'Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to
+my Father?' Shall I drive you forth again into this chaos, that the
+faithful wings which bore you on the right way may droop exhausted till
+you perish in the billows of the world?&quot; He clasped her still more
+closely: &quot;Oh, God! This cannot be Thy will! But I think I understand
+Thee, Omnipotent One--Thou hast <i>entrusted</i> this soul to me, and I will
+guard it for Thee <i>loyally</i>!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was an hour of sacred happiness. Her head rested on his breast. Not
+a leaf stirred on the boughs. The dense shadow of the beeches
+surrounded them, separating them from the world as if the universe
+contained naught save this one spot of earth, and the dream of this
+moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tell me <i>one</i> thing,&quot; she whispered, &quot;only one, and I will suffer,
+atone, and purchase this hour of Heaven by any sacrifice: Do you love
+me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He looked at her, his whole soul in his eyes. &quot;Must I <i>tell</i> you so?&quot;
+he asked mournfully. &quot;What can it serve you to put your hand into the
+wound in my heart, and see how deep it is? You cannot cure it. Have you
+not felt, from the first moment, that some irresistible spell drew me
+to you, forcing me, the recluse, to come to you again and yet again?
+What was it that drove me from my couch early this morning and sent me
+hither to your closed house and deserted garden? What was it save
+love?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ever since four o'clock I have wandered restlessly about with my eyes
+fixed on the shutters of your room, till the impetuous longing of my
+soul roused you and drew you from your warm bed into the chill morning
+air. Come, you are shivering, let me warm you, nestle in my arms and
+feel the glow of my heart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He sat down on the bench under the arbor, and--he knew not how it
+happened--she clung to him like a child and he could not repulse her,
+he <i>could</i> not! She stroked his long black locks with her little soft
+hand and rested her head against his cheek--she was the very embodiment
+of innocence, simplicity, girlish artlessness. And in low murmurs she
+poured out her whole heart to him as a child confides in its father.
+Without reserve, she told him all the bitter sorrow of her whole
+life--a life which had never known either love or happiness! Having
+lost her mother when a mere child, she had been educated by a
+cold-hearted governess and a pessimistic tutor. Her father, wholly
+absorbed by the whirl of fashionable life, had cared nothing for her,
+and when scarcely out of the school-room had compelled her to marry a
+rich old man with whom for eight years existence was one long torment.
+Then, in mortal fear lest her listener would not forgive her, yet
+faithful to the truth, she confessed also how her eager soul, yearning
+for love, had striven to find some compensation, rebelling against a
+law which recognized the utmost immorality as moral, till <i>sin</i> itself
+seemed virtue compared to the wrong of such a bond. But as the
+forbidden draught did not quench her thirst, a presentiment came to her
+that she was longing for that spring of which Christ said: &quot;But
+whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never
+thirst!&quot; This had brought her here, and here had been opened the
+purifying, redeeming fount of life and love.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now you know all! My soul lies open before you! By the self denial
+with which I risked my highest blessing, <i>yourself</i>, and revealed my
+whole past life to you, you can judge whether I have been ennobled by
+your love.&quot; Slipping from his embrace, she sank on her knees before
+him: &quot;Now judge the Penitent--I will accept from your hand whatever
+fate you may impose. But one thing I beseech you to do, whatever you
+may ask of me: remember <i>Christ</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer raised his large dark eyes. &quot;I do remember Him.&quot; Bending toward
+her with infinite gentleness, he lifted her in his strong arms: &quot;Come,
+Magdalena! I cannot condemn you,&quot; he said, and the Penitent again
+rested in the embrace of compassion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There are drops of cold perspiration on your brow,&quot; said Madeleine
+after a long silence. &quot;Are you suffering?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I suffer gladly. Do not heed it!&quot; he said with effort.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then a glance of loving inquiry searched his inmost soul. &quot;Do you
+regret the kiss which you just denied me?&quot; she asked, scarcely above
+her breath, but the whispered question made him wince as though a probe
+had entered some hidden wound. She felt it, and some irresistible
+impulse urged her to again raise her pouting lips. He saw their rosy
+curves close to his own, and gently covered them with his hand. &quot;Be
+true! Let us be loyal to each other. Do not make my lot harder than it
+is already! You do not know what you are unchaining.&quot; Starting up, he
+clasped his hands upon his breast, eagerly drinking in long draughts of
+the invigorating morning air. The gloomy fire which had just glowed in
+his eyes changed again to a pure, calm light. &quot;This is so <i>beautiful</i>,
+do not disturb it,&quot; he said gently, kissing her on the forehead. &quot;My
+child, my dove! Our love shall remain pure and sacred--shall it not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes!&quot; she murmured in reverent submission, for now he was once more
+the image of Christ, and she bent silently to kiss his hand. He did not
+resist, for he felt that it was a comfort to her. Then he disappeared,
+calm, lofty, like one who has stripped off the fetters of this world.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau was left alone. Pressing her forehead against
+the trunk of the tree, a rude but firm support, she had sunk back upon
+the bench, closing her eyes. Her heart was almost bursting with its
+seething tide of emotion. Tears coursed down her cheeks. God had given
+her so much, that she almost swooned under this wealth of happiness.
+Only a touch of pain could balance it, or it would be too great for
+mortal strength to bear. This pain was an unsatisfied yearning, a vague
+feeling that her destiny could only be fulfilled through this love, and
+that she was still so far from possessing it. God has ordained that the
+human heart can bear only a certain measure of happiness and, when this
+limit is passed, joy becomes pain because we are not to experience here
+on earth bliss which belongs to a higher stage of development. That is
+why the greatest joy brings tears, that is why, amid the utmost love,
+we believe that we have never loved enough, that is why, amid the
+excess of enjoyment, we are consumed with the desire for a rapture of
+which this is but a foretaste, that is why every pleasure teaches us to
+yearn for a new and greater one, so that we may <i>never</i> be satisfied,
+but continually suffer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There is but one power which, with strong hand, maintains the balance,
+teaches us to be sparing of joy, helps us endure pain, dams all the
+streams of desire and sends them back to toil and bear fruit within the
+soul: asceticism! It cuts with firm touch the luxuriant shoots from the
+tree of life, that its strength may concentrate within the marrow of
+the trunk and urge the growth <i>upward</i>. Asceticism! The bugbear of all
+the grown up children of this world. Wherever it appears human hearts
+are in a tumult as if death were at hand. Like flying ants bearing away
+their eggs to a place of safety, the disturbed consciences of
+worldlings anxiously strive to hide their secret desires and pleasures
+from the dreaded foe! But whoever dares to meet its eyes sees that it
+is not the bugbear which the apostles of reason and nature would fain
+represent it, no fleshless, bloodless shadow which strives to destroy
+the natural bond between the Creator and creation, but a being with a
+glowing heart, five wounds, and a brow bedewed with drops of sweat. Its
+office is stern and gloomy, its labor severe and thankless, for it has
+to struggle violently with rebellious souls and, save for the aid of
+the army of priests who have consecrated themselves to its service, it
+would succumb in the ceaseless struggle with materialism which is ever
+developing into higher consciousness! Yet whoever has once given
+himself to her service finds her a lofty, earnest, yet gracious
+goddess! She is the support of the feeble, the comforter of the
+unhappy and the solitary, the angel of the self-sacrificing. Whoever
+feels her hand upon a wounded, quivering heart, knows that she is the
+<i>benefactress</i>, not the taskmistress of humanity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Nor does she always appear as the gloomy mourner beside the corpse of
+murdered joys. Sometimes roses wreath the thorn-scarred brow, and she
+becomes the priestess of love. When the world and its self-created
+duties rudely sunders two hearts which God created for each other and
+leaves them to waste away in mortal anguish, <i>she</i> is the compassionate
+one. With sanctifying power she raises the struggling souls above the
+dividing barrier of temporal things, teaches them to trample the earth
+under their feet and unites them with an eternal bond in the purer
+sphere of <i>intellectual</i> love. Thus she unites what <i>morality</i> severs.
+<i>Morality</i> alone is harsh, not asceticism. Morality pitilessly
+prescribes her laws, unheeding the weakness of poor human hearts,
+asceticism helps them to submit to them. Morality <i>demands</i> obedience,
+asceticism <i>teaches</i> it. Morality punishes, asceticism corrects. The
+former judges by appearances, the latter by the reality. Morality has
+only the reward of the <i>world</i>, asceticism of <i>Heaven</i>! Morality made
+Mary Magdalene an outcast, asceticism led her to the Lord and obtained
+His mercy for her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And as the beautiful Magdalene of the present day sat with closed eyes,
+letting her thoughts be swept along upon the wildly foaming waves of
+her hot blood, she fancied that the bugbear once so dreaded because she
+had known it only under the guise of the fulfilment of base, loathsome
+duty was approaching. But this time the form appeared in its pure
+beauty, bent tenderly over her, a pallid shape of light, and gazed at
+her with the eyes of a friend! Low, mysterious words, in boding
+mournful tones, were murmured in her ears. As she listened, her tears
+flowed more gently, and with childlike humility she clasped the sublime
+vision and hid her face on its breast. Then she felt upon her brow a
+chill kiss, like a breath from the icy regions of eternal peace, and
+the apparition vanished. But as the last words of something heard in a
+dream often echo in the ears of the person awaking, the countess as she
+raised her closed lids, remembered nothing save the three words: &quot;On
+the cross!&quot; ...</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>MARY AND MAGDALENE</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On the cross&quot;--was it a consolation or a menace? Who could
+decipher
+this rune? It was like all the sayings of oracles. History would
+explain its meaning, and when this was done, it would be too late, for
+it would be fulfilled! The countess still sat motionless in the old
+arbor. Her destiny had commenced on the cross, that was certain.
+Hitherto she had been a blind blank, driven like thousands by the wheel
+of chance. She had first entered into communication with the systematic
+order of divine thought in the hour when she saw Joseph Freyer on the
+cross. Will her fate <i>end</i> as it <i>began</i>, upon the cross? An icy chill
+ran through her veins. She loved the cross, since it bore the man whom
+she loved, but what farther influence was it to have upon her life! And
+what had pallid asceticism to do with her? What was the source of all
+these oppressive, melancholy forebodings, which could only be justified
+if a conflict with grave duties or constraining circumstances was
+impending. Why should they not love each other, both were free!
+But--she not only desired to love him, she wished to be <i>his</i>, to claim
+him <i>hers</i>. Every loving woman longs for the fulfilment of her destiny
+in the man she loves. How was she to obtain this fulfilment? What is
+born in morality, cannot exist in immorality. He knew this, felt it,
+and it was the cause of his sternness. This was the source of her
+grief, the visit of the mysterious comforter, and the warning of the
+cross. But must the brightest happiness, the beautiful bud of love
+wither on the cross, because it grew there? Was there no other sacred
+soil where it might thrive and develop to the most perfect flower? Was
+there no wedding altar, no sacrament of marriage? She drew back as if
+she suddenly stood on the verge of a yawning abyss. Her brain reeled! A
+throng of jeering spectres seemed grinning at her, watching with
+malicious delight the leap the Countess Wildenau was about to take,
+down to a peasant! She involuntarily glanced around as if some one
+might have been listening to the <i>thought</i>. But all was still and
+silent; her secret, thank Heaven, was still her own.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Eternal Providence, what fate hast thou in store for me?&quot; her
+questioning gaze asked the blue sky. What was the meaning of this
+extraordinary conflict? She loved Freyer as the God whom he
+represented, yet he could be hers only as a man; she must either resign
+him or the divine illusion. She felt that the instant which made him
+hers as a man would break the spell, and she would no longer love him!
+The God was too far above her to be drawn down to her level, the man
+was too low to be raised to it. Was ever mortal woman thus placed
+between two alternatives and told: &quot;Choose!&quot; The golden shower fell
+into Danae's lap, the swan flew to Leda, the bull bore Europa away, and
+Jupiter did not ask: &quot;In what form do you wish me to appear?&quot; But to
+the higher consciousness of the Christian woman the whole
+responsibility of free choice is given. And what is the reward of this
+torturing dilemma? If she chooses the God, she must resign the man, if
+she chooses the man she must sacrifice the God. Which can she renounce,
+which relinquish? She could not decide, and wrung her hands in agony.
+Why must this terrible discord be hers? Had she ventured too boldly
+into the sphere of divine life that, as if in mockery, she was given
+the choice between the immortal and the mortal in order, in the
+struggle between the two, to recognize the full extent of her weakness?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It seemed so! As if utterly wearied by the sore conflict, she hid her
+face in her hands and called to her aid the wan comforter who had just
+approached so tenderly. But in vain, the revelations were silent, the
+deity would not aid her!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You ought to go up the mountain to-day, Countess,&quot; called a resonant
+voice. This time no pale phantom, no grimacing spectre stood before
+her, but her friend Ludwig, who gazed into her eyes with questioning
+sympathy. She clasped his hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Whenever you approach me, my friend, I can never help receiving you
+with a 'Thank Heaven!' You are one of those whose very <i>presence</i> is
+beneficial to the sufferer, as the physician's entrance often suffices
+to soothe the patient without medicines.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig sat down on the bench beside the countess. &quot;My sisters and
+Josepha are greatly troubled because you have not yet ordered
+breakfast, and no one ventured to ask. So <i>I</i> undertook the dangerous
+commission, and your Highness can see yonder at the door how admiringly
+my sisters' eyes are following me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess laughed. &quot;Dear me, am I so dreaded a tyrant?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No doubt you are a little inclined to be one,&quot; replied Ludwig,
+quizzically; &quot;now and then a sharp point juts from a hidden coronet. I
+felt one myself yesterday?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When--how?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May I remind you of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When you poured all your wrath upon poor Freyer, and resolved to leave
+Ammergau at once. Then I was puzzled for a moment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Really?&quot; said the countess with charming embarrassment. &quot;Then I was
+not mistaken--I perceived it, and therefore delayed sending the
+telegram. People ought not to take such passing ebullitions so
+seriously.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Countess, but that 'passing ebullition,' might have made poor
+Freyer miserable for a long time. Pray, have more patience and
+tolerance in future. Natures so powerful and superior as yours fail to
+exert a destructive influence upon a circle of simple folk like
+ourselves, only when they show a corresponding degree of generosity,
+which suffices to excuse all our awkwardnesses. Otherwise you will some
+day thrust us down from the height to which you have raised us, and
+that would be far worse than if we had <i>never</i> been withdrawn from our
+modest sphere.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are right!&quot; said the countess, thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My fear is that we are capable only of <i>rousing</i> your interest, not
+<i>fixing</i> it. We are on too unequal a footing, we feel and understand
+your spell, but are too simple and inexperienced not to be dazzled and
+confused by its ever varying phantasmagoria. Therefore, Countess, you
+are as great a source of peril as of happiness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm! I understand. But suppose that for the sake of you people of
+Ammergau I desired to return to plainness--and simplicity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You cannot, Countess, you are too young.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you mean? That would be the very reason I should be able to do
+so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, for you have passed the age when people easily accommodate
+themselves to new circumstances. Too many of the shoots of luxury have
+gained a generous growth; they will assert their claims and cannot be
+forced back into the seeds whence they came. Not until they have lived
+out their time in the world and died can they form the soil for a new
+and, if you desire it, more primitive and simple development!--Any
+premature attempt of this kind will last only a few moments and even
+these would be a delusion. But what to you would be passing moments of
+disappointment, to those who shared them would be--lifelong destiny.
+Our clumsy natures cannot make these graceful oscillations from one
+feeling to another, we stake all on one and lose it, if we are
+deceived.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess looked earnestly at him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are a stern monitor, Ludwig Gross!&quot; she said, thoughtfully. &quot;Do
+you fear that I might play a game with one of you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;An unconscious one, Countess--as the waves toy with a drifting boat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, that would at least be no cruel one!&quot; replied the lady, smiling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Any</i> sport, Countess, would be cruel, which tore one of these calm
+souls from its quiet haven here and set it adrift rudderless on the
+high sea of passion.&quot; He rose. &quot;Pardon me--I am taking too much
+liberty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not more than my friendship gave you a right to say. You brought your
+friend to me; you are right to warn me if you imagine I should
+heedlessly throw the priceless gift away! But, Ludwig Gross&quot;--she took
+his hand--&quot;do you know that I prize it so highly that I should not
+consider <i>myself</i> too great a recompense? Do you know that you have
+just found me in a sore struggle over this problem?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross drew back a step as if he could not grasp the full meaning
+of the words. So momentous did they seem that he turned pale. &quot;Is it
+possible?&quot; he stammered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A tremulous gesture of the hand warned him to say no more. &quot;I don't
+know--whether it is possible! But that I could even <i>think</i> of it, will
+enable you to imagine what value your gift possesses for me. Not a
+word, I beseech you. Give me time--and trust me. So many marvels have
+been wrought in me during the past few days, that I give myself up to
+the impulse of the moment and allow myself to be led by an ever-ruling
+Providence--I shall be dealt with kindly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig, deeply moved, kissed his companion's hand. &quot;Countess, the
+impulse which moves you at this moment must unconsciously thrill every
+heart in Ammergau--as the sleeping child feels, even in its dreams,
+when a good fairy approaches its cradle. And it is indeed so; for, in
+you conscious culture approaches unconscious nature--it is a sublime
+moment, when the highest culture, like the fairy beside the cradle,
+listens to the breathing of humanity, where completion approaches the
+source of being, and drinks from it fresh vigor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; cried the countess, enthusiastically: &quot;That is it. You
+understand me perfectly. All civilization must gain new strength from
+the fountain of nature or its sources of life would become dry--for
+they perpetually derive their nourishment from that inexhaustible
+maternal bosom. Where this is not accomplished in individual lives, the
+primeval element, thus disowned, avenges itself in great social
+revolutions, catastrophes which form epochs in the history of the
+world. It is only a pity that in such phases of violent renewal the
+labor of whole epochs of civilization is lost. Therefore souls in
+harmony with their age must try to reconcile peacefully what, taken
+collectively, assumes the proportions of contrasts destructive to the
+universe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And where could we find this reconciliation, save in love?&quot; cried
+Ludwig, enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You express it exactly: that is the perception toward which minds are
+more and more impelled, and whose outlines in art and science appear
+more and more distinctly. That is the secret of the influence of
+Parsifal, which extends far beyond the domain of art and, in another
+province, the success of the Passion Play! To one it revealed itself
+under one guise, to another under another. To me it was here that the
+very source of love appeared. And as you, who revealed it to me, are
+pervaded by the great lesson--I will test it first upon you. Brother!
+Friend! I will aid you in every strait and calamity, and you shall see
+that I exercise love, not only in words, but that the power working
+within me will accomplish deeds also.&quot; She clasped her hands
+imploringly: &quot;And if I love one of you <i>more</i> than the others, do not
+blame me. The nearer to the focus of light, the stronger the heat! He,
+that one, is surely the focus of the great light which, emanating from
+you, illumines the whole world. I am so near him--could I remain cold?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, Countess--now I will cast aside all fears for my friend. In
+Heaven's name, take him. Even if he consumes under your thrall--pain,
+too, is godlike, and to suffer for <i>you</i> is a grand, a lofty destiny, a
+thousand-fold fairer and better than the dull repose of an every day
+happiness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good heavens, when have I ever heard such language!&quot; exclaimed the
+countess, gazing admiringly at the modest little man, whose cheeks were
+glowing with the flush of the loftiest feeling. He stood before her in
+his plain working clothes, his clear-cut profile uplifted, his eyes
+raised with a searching gaze as if pursuing the vanishing traces of a
+lofty, unattainable goal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She rose: &quot;There is not a day, not an hour here, which does not bring
+me something grand. Woe befall me if I do not show myself worthy of the
+obligation your friendship imposes, I should be more guilty than those
+to whom the summons of the ideal has never come; who have never stood
+face to face with men like you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig quietly held out his hand and clasped hers closely in her own.
+The piercing glance of his artist-eye seemed to read the inmost depths
+of her soul.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After a long pause Madeleine von Wildenau interrupted the silence:
+&quot;There stands your sister in great concern over my bodily welfare! Well
+then, let us remember that we are human--unfortunately! Will you
+breakfast with me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you, I have already breakfasted,&quot; said Ludwig, modestly,
+motioning to Sephi to be ready.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then at least bear me company.&quot; Taking his arm, she went with him to
+the arbor covered with a wild grape-vine where the table was spread.
+She sat down to the simple meal, while her companion served her with so
+much tact and grace that she could not help thinking involuntarily;
+&quot;And these are peasants? What ought we aristocrats to be?&quot; Then, as if
+in mockery of this reflection, a man in his shirt-sleeves with his
+jacket flung over his arm and a scythe in his hand passed down the
+street by the fence. &quot;Freyer!&quot; exclaimed the countess, her face aflame:
+&quot;The Messiah with a scythe?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer stopped. &quot;You called me, Countess?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where are you going with that implement, Herr Freyer?&quot; she asked,
+coldly, in evident embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To mow my field!&quot; he answered quietly. &quot;I have just time, and I want
+to try to harvest a little hay. Almost everything goes to ruin during
+the Passion!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But why do you cut it yourself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because I have no servant, Countess!&quot; said Freyer, smiling, raised his
+hat with the dignified gesture characteristic of him, and moved on as
+firmly and proudly as though the business he was pursuing was worthy of
+a king. And so it was, when <i>he</i> pursued it. A second blush crimsoned
+Madeleine von Wildenau's fair forehead. But this time it was because
+she had been ashamed of him for a moment. &quot;Poor Freyer! His little
+patrimony was a patch of ground, and should it be accounted a
+degradation that he must receive the scanty gift of nature directly
+from her hand, or rather win it blade by blade in the sweat of his
+brow?&quot; So she reasoned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he glanced back at her and she felt that the look, outshining the
+sun, had illuminated her whole nature. The fiery greeting of a radiant
+soul! She waved her white hand to him, and he again raised his hat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where is Freyer's field?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not far from us, just outside the village. Would you like to go
+there?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, it would trouble me. I should not like to see him toiling for his
+daily bread. Men such as he ought not to find it necessary, and it must
+end in some way. God sent me here to equalize the injustice of fate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You cannot accomplish this with Freyer, Countess, he would have been a
+rich man long ago, if he had been willing to accept anything. What do
+you imagine he has had offered by ladies who, from sacred and selfish
+motives, under the influence of his personation of the Christ, were
+ready to make any sacrifice? If ever poverty was an honor to a man, it
+is to Freyer, for he might have been in very different circumstances
+and instead is content with the little property received from his
+father, a bit of woodland, a field, and a miserable little hut. To keep
+the nobility and freedom of his soul, he toils like a servant and cares
+for house, field, and wood with his own hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Just see him now, Countess,&quot; he added, &quot;You have never beheld any man
+look more aristocratic while at work than he, though he only wields a
+scythe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are a loyal friend, Ludwig Gross,&quot; she answered. &quot;And an eloquent
+advocate! Come, take me to him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She hurried into the house, returning with a broad-brimmed hat on her
+head, which made her face look as blooming and youthful as a girl's.
+Long undressed kid gloves covered her arms under the half flowing
+sleeves of her gown, and she carried over her shoulder a scarlet
+sunshade which surrounded her whole figure with a roseate glow. There
+was a warmth, a tempting charm in her appearance like the velvety bloom
+of a ripe peach. Ludwig Gross gazed at her in wonder.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are--<i>fatally</i> beautiful!&quot; he involuntarily exclaimed, shaking his
+head mournfully, as we do when we see some inevitable disaster
+approaching a friend. &quot;No one ought to be so beautiful,&quot; he added,
+disapprovingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau laughed merrily. &quot;Oh! you comical friend, who
+offers with so sour a visage the most flattering compliments possible.
+Our young society men might take lessons from you! Pardon me for
+laughing,&quot; she said apologetically, as Ludwig's face darkened. &quot;But it
+came so unexpectedly, I was not prepared for such a compliment here,&quot;
+and in spite of herself, she laughed again, the compliment was too
+irresistible.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her companion was deeply offended. He saw in this outbreak of mirth a
+levity which outraged his holiest feelings. These were &quot;the graceful
+oscillations from one mood to another,&quot; as he had termed it that day,
+which he had so dreaded for his friend, and which now perplexed his own
+judgment!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A moment was sufficient to reveal this to the countess, in the next she
+had regained her self-control and with it the power of adapting herself
+to the earnestness of her friend's mood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was walking silently at her side with a heavy heart. There had been
+something in that laugh which he could not fathom, readily as he
+grasped any touch of humor. To the earnest woman he had seen that
+morning, he would have confided his friend in the belief that he was
+fulfilling a lofty destiny; to the laughing, coquettish woman of the
+world, he grudged him; Joseph Freyer was far too good for such a fate.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They had walked on, each absorbed in thought, leaving the village
+behind, into the open country. Few people were at work, for during the
+Passion there is rarely time to till the fields.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There he is!&quot; Ludwig pointed to a man swinging his scythe with a
+powerful arm. The countess had dreaded the sight, yet now stood
+watching full of admiration, for these movements were as graceful as
+his gestures. The natural symmetry which was one of his characteristic
+qualities rendered him a picturesque figure even here, while toiling in
+the fields. His arms described rhythmically returning circles so
+smoothly, the poise of the elastic body, bending slightly forward, was
+so noble, and he performed the labor so easily that it seemed like a
+graceful gymnastic exercise for the training of the marvellous limbs.
+The countess gazed at him a long time, unseen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A woman's figure, bearing a jug, approached from the opposite side of
+the meadow and offered Freyer a drink. &quot;I have brought some milk. You
+must be thirsty, it is growing warm,&quot; the countess heard her say. She
+was a gracious looking woman, clad in simple country garb, evidently
+somewhat older than Freyer, but with a noble, virginal bearing and
+features of classic regularity. Every movement was dignified, and her
+expression was calm and full of kindly earnestness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I ought to know her,&quot; said the countess in a strangely sharp tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly. She is the Mother of God in the Passion Play, Anastasia
+Gross, the burgomaster's sister.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, the Mary!&quot; said the countess, and again she remembered how the
+two, mother and son, had remained clasped in each other's arms far
+longer than seemed to her necessary. What unknown pang was this which
+now pierced her heart? &quot;I suppose they are betrothed?&quot; she asked, with
+quickened breath.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who can tell? We think she loves him, but no one knows Freyer's
+feelings!&quot; said Ludwig.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't understand, since you are such intimate friends, why you
+should not know!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I believe, Countess, if we people of Ammergau have any good quality,
+it is discretion. We do not ask even the most intimate friend anything
+which he does not confide to us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau lowered her eyes in confusion. After a short
+struggle she said with deadly sternness and bitterness: &quot;You were right
+this morning--the man must be left <i>in his sphere</i>. Come, let us go
+back!&quot; A glance from Ludwig's eyes pierced her to the heart. She turned
+back toward the village. But Freyer had already seen her and overtook
+her with the speed of thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, Countess, you here? And&quot;--his eyes, fierce with pain, rested
+enquiringly on hers as he perceived their cold expression, &quot;and you
+were going to leave me without a word of greeting? Were you ashamed to
+speak to the poor peasant who was mowing his grass? Or did my dress
+shock you?&quot; He was so perfectly artless that he did not even interpret
+her indignation correctly, but attributed it to an entirely different
+cause. This did not escape the keen intuition of a woman so thoroughly
+versed in affairs of the heart. But when a drop of the venom of
+jealousy has entered the blood, it requires some time ere it is
+absorbed, even though the cause of the mischief has long been removed.
+This is an old experience, as well as the fact that, this process once
+over, repentance is all the sweeter, love the more passionate. But the
+poor simple-hearted peasant, in his artlessness, could not perceive all
+this. He was merely ashamed of standing before the countess in his
+shirt sleeves and hurriedly endeavored, with trembling fingers, to
+fasten his collar which he had opened while at work, baring his throat
+and chest. It seemed as if the hot blood could be heard pulsing against
+the walls of his arched chest, like the low murmur of the sea. The
+labor, the increasing heat of the sun, and the excitement of the
+countess' presence had quickened the usually calm flow of his blood
+till it fairly seethed in his veins, glowing in roseate life through
+the ascetic pallor of the skin, while the swelling veins stood forth in
+a thousand beautiful waving lines like springs welling from white
+stone. Both stood steeped in the fervid warmth, one absorbing, the
+other reflecting it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But with the cruelty of love, which seeks to measure the strength of
+responsive passion by the very pain it has the power to inflict, the
+beautiful woman curbed the fire kindled in her own pulses and said
+carelessly: &quot;We have interrupted your tête-à-tête, we will make amends
+by retiring.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Countess!&quot; he exclaimed with a look which seemed to say: &quot;Is it
+possible that you can be so unjust! My <i>Mother</i>, Mary, was with me, she
+brought her son something to refresh him at his work, why should you
+interrupt us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The simple words, which to her had so subtle a double meaning,
+explained everything and Madeleine von Wildenau felt, with deep
+embarrassment, that he understood her and that she must appear very
+petty in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross drew out his watch. &quot;Excuse me, it is nine o'clock; I must
+go to my drawing-school.&quot; He bowed and left them, without shaking hands
+with the countess as usual. She felt it as a rebuke, and a voice in her
+heart said: &quot;You must become a far better woman ere you are worthy of
+this man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Would not you like to know Mary? May I introduce her to you?&quot; asked
+Freyer, when they were alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, it is not necessary.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, how can you love the son and not care for the mother?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She is <i>not</i> your mother,&quot; replied the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And <i>I</i> am not the Christ. Why does the illusion affect me, and not
+Mary?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because it was perfect in you, but not in her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then there is still more reason to know her, that her personality may
+complete what her personation lacked.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess cast a gloomy look at the tall maiden, who meanwhile had
+taken the scythe and was doing Freyer's work.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She seems to be very devoted to you,&quot; she said suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, thank Heaven, we are loyal friends.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I suppose you call each other thou.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, all the Ammergau people do that, when they have been
+schoolmates.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is a strange custom. Is it practised by those in both high and
+low stations?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There are neither high nor low stations among us. We all stand on the
+same footing, Countess. The fact that one is richer, another poorer,
+that one can do more for education and external appearances than his
+neighbor makes no difference with us and, if it did, it would be an
+honor for me to be permitted to address Anastasia with the familiar
+thou, for she and the whole Gross family are far above me. Even in your
+sense of the word, Countess, the burgomaster is an aristocrat, no child
+of nature like myself, but a man familiar with social usages and
+thoroughly well educated.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then,&quot; cried the countess, &quot;why don't you marry the lady, if she
+possesses such superior advantages?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Marry?&quot; Freyer started back as if instead of Madeleine's beautiful
+face he had suddenly beheld some hideous vision, &quot;I have never thought
+of it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Christ wed Mary? The son the mother? No, though we are not what we
+represent, <i>that</i> would be impossible. I have become so accustomed to
+regard her as my mother that it would seem to me a profanation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But next winter, when the Play is over, it will be different.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And <i>you</i> say this to me, Countess; <i>you</i>, after this morning?&quot; cried
+Freyer, with a trembling voice. &quot;Are you in earnest?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly. I cannot expect you, for my sake, to neglect older claims
+upon your heart!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Countess, if I had older claims, would I have spoken to you as I did
+to-day, would the events have occurred which happened to-day? Can you
+believe such things of me? You are silent? Well, Countess, that may be
+the custom in your circle, but not in mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Forgive me, Freyer!&quot; stammered the lady, turning pale.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer shaded his eyes with his hand as if the sun dazzled him, in
+order to conceal his rising tears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For what are you looking?&quot; asked the countess, who thought he was
+trying to see more distinctly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He turned his face, eloquent with pain, full toward her. &quot;I was looking
+to see where my dove had flown, I can no longer find her. Or was it all
+a dream?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer!&quot; cried the countess, utterly overwhelmed, slipping her hand
+through his arm and resting her head without regard for possible
+spectators on his heaving breast. &quot;Joseph, your dove has not flown
+away, she is here, take her to your heart again and keep her forever,
+forever, if you wish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Take care, Countess,&quot; said Freyer, warningly, &quot;there are people moving
+in all directions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She raised her head. &quot;Will it cause you any harm?&quot; she asked, abashed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not me, but you. I have no one to question me and could only be proud
+of your tokens of favor, but consider what would be said in your own
+circle, if it were rumored that you had rested your head on a peasant's
+breast.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are no peasant, you are an artist.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In your eyes, but not in those of the world. Even though we do
+passably well in wood-carving and in the Passion Play, so long as we
+are so poor that we are compelled to till our fields ourselves, and
+bring the wood for our carvings from the forest with our own hands, we
+shall be ranked as peasants, and no one will believe that we are
+anything else. You will be blamed for having associated with such
+uncultured people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I will answer for that before the whole world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That would avail little, my beloved one, Heaven forbid that I should
+ever so far forget myself as to boast of your love before others, or
+permit you to do anything which they would misjudge. God alone
+understands what we are to each other, and therefore it must remain
+hidden in His bosom where no profane eye can desecrate it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess clung closer to him in silent admiration. She remembered
+so many annoyances caused by the indiscretions due to the vanity of men
+whom she had favored, that this modest delicacy seemed so chivalrous
+and lofty that she would fain have fallen at his feet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dove, have I found you again?&quot; he said, gazing into her eyes. &quot;My
+sweet, naughty dove! You will never more wound and wrong me so. I feel
+that you might break my heart&quot; And pressing her arm lightly to his
+side, he raised her hand to his burning lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A glow of happiness filled Madeleine von Wildenau's whole being as she
+heard the stifled, passionate murmur of love. And as, with every
+sunbeam, the centifolia blooms more fully, revealing a new beauty with
+each opening petal, so too did the soul of the woman thus illumined by
+the divine ray of true love.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come,&quot; she said suddenly, &quot;take me to the kind creature who so
+tenderly ministers to you, perhaps suffers for you. I now feel drawn
+toward her and will love her for your sake as your mother, Mary.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, my child, that is worthy of you! I knew that you were generous and
+noble! Come, my Magdalene, I will lead you to Mary.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They walked rapidly to the field where Anastasia was busily working.
+The latter, seeing the stranger approach, let down the skirt she had
+lifted and adjusted her dress a little, but she received the countess
+without the least embarrassment and cordially extended her hand. <i>Her</i>
+bearing also had a touch of condescension, which the great lady
+especially noticed. Anastasia gazed so calmly and earnestly at her that
+she lowered her eyes as if unable to bear the look of this serene soul.
+The smoothly brushed brown hair, the soft indistinctly marked brows,
+the purity of the features, and the virginal dignity throned on the
+noble forehead harmonized with the ideal of the Queen of Heaven which
+the countess had failed to grasp in the Passion Play. She was
+beautiful, faultless from head to foot, yet there was nothing in her
+appearance which could arouse the least feeling of jealousy. There was
+such spirituality in her whole person--something--the countess could
+not describe it in any other way--so expressive of the sober sense of
+age, that the beautiful woman was ashamed of her suspicion. She now
+understood what Freyer meant when he spoke of the maternal relation
+existing between Anastasia and himself. She was the true Madonna, to
+whom all eyes would be lifted devoutly, reverently, yet whom no man
+would desire to press to his heart. She was probably not much older
+than the countess, two or three years at most, but compared with her
+the great lady, so thoroughly versed in the ways of the world, was but
+an immature, impetuous child. The countess felt this with the secret
+satisfaction which it affords every woman to perceive that she is
+younger than another, and it helped her to endure the superiority which
+Anastasia's lofty calmness maintained over her. Nay, she even accepted
+the inferior place with a coquettish artlessness which made her appear
+all the more youthful. Yet at the very moment she adopted the childish
+manner, she secretly felt its reality. She was standing in the presence
+of the Mother of God. Womanly nature had never possessed any charm for
+her, she had never comprehended it in any form. She had never admired
+any of Raphael's Madonnas, not even the Sistine. A woman interested her
+only as the object of a man's love for which she might envy her, the
+contrary character, the ascetic beauty of an Immaculate was wholly
+outside of her sphere. Now, for the first time in her life, she was
+interested in a personality of this type, because she suddenly realized
+that the Virgin was also the Mother of the Saviour. And as her love for
+the Christ was first awakened by her love for Joseph Freyer, her
+reverence for Mary was first felt when she thought of her as his
+mother! Madeleine von Wildenau, so poor in the treasures of the heart,
+the woman who had never been a mother, suddenly felt--even while
+in the act of playing with practised coquetry the part of childlike
+ignorance--under the influence of the man she loved, the <i>reality</i> in
+the farce and her heart opened to the sacred, mysterious bond between
+the mother and the child. Thus, hour by hour, she grew out of the
+captivity of the world and the senses, gently supported and elevated by
+the might of that love which reconciles earth and heaven.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She held out one hand to Anastasia, the other to Freyer. &quot;I, too, would
+fain know the dear mother of our Christ!&quot; she said, with that sweet,
+submissive grace which the moment had taught her. Freyer's eyes rested
+approvingly upon her. She felt as if wings were growing on her
+shoulders, she felt that she was beautiful, good, and beloved; earth
+could give no more.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Anastasia watched the agitated woman with the kindly, searching gaze of
+a Sister of Charity. Indeed, her whole appearance recalled that of one
+of these ministering spirits, resigned without sentimentality; gentle,
+yet energetic; modest, yet impressive.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I felt a great--&quot; the countess was about to say &quot;admiration,&quot; but this
+was not true, she admired her now for the first time! She stopped
+abruptly in the midst of her sentence, she could utter no stereotyped
+compliments at this moment. With quiet dignity, like a princess giving
+audience, Anastasia came to her assistance, by skilfully filling up the
+pause: &quot;So this is your first visit to Ammergau?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then you have doubtless been very much impressed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, who could remain cold, while witnessing such a spectacle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, is not our Christ perfect?&quot; said Anastasia, smiling proudly. &quot;He
+costs people many tears. But even <i>I</i> cannot help weeping, and I have
+played it with him thirty times.&quot; She passed her hand across his brow
+with a tender, maternal caress, as if she wished to console him for all
+his sufferings. &quot;Does it not seem as if we saw the Redeemer Himself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess watched her with increasing sympathy. &quot;You have a
+beautiful soul! Your friend was right, people should know you to
+receive the full impression of Mary.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I play it too badly,&quot; replied Anastasia, whose native modesty
+prevented her recognition of the flattery conveyed in the countess'
+words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No--badly is not the word. But the delicate shadings of the feminine
+nature are lost in the vast space,&quot; the other explained.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It may be so,&quot; replied Anastasia, simply. &quot;But that is of no
+importance; no matter how we others might play--<i>he</i> would sustain the
+whole.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And your brother, Anastasia, and all the rest--do you forget them?&quot;
+said Freyer, rebukingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, dear Anastasia.&quot; The countess took Freyer's hand. &quot;I have given
+my soul into the keeping of this Christ--but your brother's performance
+is also a masterpiece! It seems to me that you are unjust to him. And
+also to Pilate, whom I admired, the apostles and high-priests.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps so. I don't know how the others act--&quot; said Mary with an
+honesty that was fairly sublime. &quot;I see only him, and when he is not on
+the stage I care nothing for the rest of the performance. It is because
+I am his <i>mother</i>: to a mother the son is beyond everything else,&quot; she
+added, calmly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess looked at her in astonishment. Was it possible that a
+woman could love in this way? Yet there was no doubt of it. Had even a
+shadow of longing to be united to the man she loved rested on the soul
+of this girl, she could not have had thus crystalline transparency and
+absolute freedom from embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">These Madonnas are happy beings! she thought, yet she did not envy this
+calm peace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Drawing off her long glove with much difficulty, she took a ring from
+her finger. &quot;Please accept this from me as a token of the secret bond
+which unites us in love for--your son! We will be good friends.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;With all my heart!&quot; said Anastasia in delight, holding out her
+sunburnt finger to receive the gift. &quot;What will my brother say when
+I come home with such a present?&quot; She gratefully kissed the donor's
+hand. &quot;You are too kind, Countess--I don't know how I deserve it.&quot;
+She stooped and lifted her jug. &quot;I must go home now to help my
+sister-in-law. You will visit us, won't you? My brother will be so
+pleased.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very gladly--if you will allow me,&quot; replied the lady, smiling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I beg you to do so!&quot; said Anastasia with ready tact. Then with noble
+dignity, she moved away across the fields, waving her hand from the
+distance to the couple she had left behind, as if to say: &quot;Be happy!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>BRIDAL TORCHES</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Magdalene--Wife--Angel--what shall I call you?&quot; cried Freyer,
+extending his arms. &quot;Oh, if only we were not in the open fields, that I
+might press you to my heart and thank you for being so kind--so
+<i>generous</i> and so kind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Does your heart at last yearn for me? Then let us come into the
+forest, where no one is watching us save holy nature. Take me up one of
+the mountains. Will you? Can you? Will not your hay spoil?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Let</i> it spoil, what does that matter? But first you must allow me to
+go home to put on garments more suitable for your society.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, that will be too late! Remain as you are--you are handsome in any
+clothes,&quot; she whispered, blushing faintly, like a girl, while she
+lowered her eyes from the kingly figure to the ground. A happy smile
+flitted over her face. Stooping, she picked up the jacket which he had
+removed while doing his work.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you--are you equipped for mountain climbing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, we will not go far. Not farther than we can go and return in time
+for dinner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, then. If matters come to the worst, I will take my dove on my
+shoulder and carry her when she can walk no farther.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, happy freedom!&quot; cried the countess, joyously! &quot;To wander through
+the woods, like two children in a fairy tale, enchanted by some wicked
+fairy and unable to appear again until after a thousand years! Oh,
+poetry of childhood--for the first time you smile upon me in all your
+radiance. Come, let us hasten--it is so beautiful that I can hardly
+believe it. I shall not, until we are there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She flew rather than walked by his side. &quot;My dove--suppose that we were
+enchanted and forced to remain in the forest together a thousand
+years?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let us try it!&quot; she whispered, fixing her eyes on his till he
+murmured, panting for breath: &quot;I believe--the spell is beginning to
+work.&quot; And his eyes glowed with a gloomy fire as he murmured, watching
+her: &quot;Who knows whether I am not harboring the Lorelei herself, who is
+luring me into her kingdom to destroy me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you know of the Lorelei?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer stopped. &quot;Do you suppose I read nothing? What else should I do
+during the long evenings, when wearied by my work, I am resting at
+home?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Really?&quot; she asked absently, drawing him forward.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you suppose I could understand a woman like you if I had not
+educated myself a little? Alas, we cannot accomplish much when the
+proper foundation is lacking. The untrained memory retains nothing
+firmly except what passes instantly into flesh and blood, the
+perception of life as it is reflected to us from the mirror of art. But
+even this reflection is sometimes distorted and confuses our natural
+thoughts and feelings. Alas, dear one, a person who has learned nothing
+correctly, and yet knows the yearning for something higher, without
+being able to satisfy it--is like a lost soul that never attains the
+goal for which it longs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My poor friend, I do know that feeling--to a certain extent it is the
+same with us women. We, too, have the yearning for education, and
+finally attain only a defective amount of knowledge! But, by way of
+compensation, individuality, directness, intuitiveness are developed
+all the more fully. You did not need to know anything--your influence
+is exerted through your personality; as such you are great. All
+knowledge comes from man, and is attainable by him--the divine gift of
+individuality can neither be gained, nor bestowed, any more than
+intuition! What is all the logic of reflecting reason compared with the
+gift of intuition, which enabled you to assume the part of a God? Is
+not that a greater marvel than the hard-won result of systematic study
+at the desk?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are a kind comforter!&quot; said Freyer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thinking makes people old!&quot; she continued. &quot;It has aged the human
+race, too.--Nature, simplicity, love must restore its youth! In them is
+<i>direct</i> contact with the deity; in civilization only an indirect one.
+Fortunately for me, I have put my lips to their spring. Oh, eternal
+fountain of human nature, I drink from you with eager draughts.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They had entered the forest--the tree-tops rustled high above their
+heads and at their feet rippled a mountain stream. Madeleine von
+Wildenau was silent--her heart rested on her friend's broad breast,
+heaving with the rapid throbbing of his heart, her supple figure had
+sunk wearily down by his side. &quot;Say no more--not a word is needed
+here.&quot; The deep gloom of the woods surrounded them--a sacred stillness
+and solitude. &quot;On every height there dwells repose!&quot; echoed in soft
+melody above her head, the marvellous Rubinstein-Goethe song. There was
+no human voice, it seemed like a mere breath from the distance of a
+dream--like the wind sweeping over the chords of the cymbal hung by
+Lenau's gypsy on a tree, scarcely audible, already dying away again.
+Her ear had caught the notes of that Æolian harp once before: she knew
+them again; on the cross--with the words: &quot;Into <i>thy</i> hands I commend
+my spirit.&quot; And sweet as the voice which spoke at that time was now the
+tenor that softly, softly hushed the restless spirit of the worldling
+to slumber. &quot;Wait; soon, soon--&quot; and then the notes gradually rose till
+the whole buzzing, singing woodland choir seemed to join in the words:
+&quot;Thou, too, shalt soon rest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The mysterious sound came from the depths of the great heart on which
+she rested, as if the soul had quitted the body a few moments and now,
+returning, was revealing with sweet lamentation what it had beheld in
+the invisible world.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you weeping?&quot; he asked tenderly, kissing the curls which clustered
+round her forehead: &quot;<i>My child</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, when you utter that word, I have a feeling which I never
+experienced before. Yes, I am, I wish to be a child in your hands. Only
+those who have ever tasted the delight of casting the burden of their
+own egoism upon any altar, whether it be religion or love--yielding
+themselves up, becoming absorbed in another, higher power--<i>only those</i>
+can know my emotions when I lean on your breast and you call me your
+child! Thus released from ourselves, thus free and untrammelled must we
+feel when we have stripped off in death the fetters of the body and
+merged all which is personal to us in God.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Heaven has destined you for itself, and you already feel how it is
+loosening your fibres and gradually drawing you up out of the soil in
+which you are rooted. That is why you wept when I sang that song to you
+here in the quiet woodland solitude. Such tears are like the drops the
+tree weeps, when a name is cut upon it. At such moments you feel the
+hand of God tearing open the bark which the world has formed around
+your heart, and the sap wells from the wounded spot. Is it not so?&quot; He
+gently passed his hand over her eyes, glittering with unshed tears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, noble soul! How you penetrate the depths of my being! What is all
+the wit and wisdom of the educated mind, compared with the direct
+inspiration of your poetic nature. Freyer, Spring of the earth--Christ,
+Spring of humanity! My heart is putting forth its first blossom for
+you, take it.&quot; She threw herself with closed eyes upon his breast, as
+if blindly. He clasped her in a close embrace, holding her a long time
+silently in his arms. Then he said softly: &quot;I will accept the beautiful
+blossom of your heart, my child, but not for myself.&quot; He raised his
+eyes fervently upward: &quot;Oh, God, Thou hast opened Thy hand to the
+beggar, and made him rich that he may sacrifice to Thee what no king
+could offer. I thank Thee.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something laughed above their heads--it was a pair of wild-doves,
+cooing in the green tent over them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you know why they are laughing?&quot; asked the countess, in an altered
+tone. &quot;They are laughing at us!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Magdalena!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes! They are laughing at the self-tormenting doubt of God's goodness.
+Look around you, see the torrent foaming, and the blue gentians
+drinking its spray, see the fruit-laden hazel, the sacred tree which
+sheltered your childhood; see the bilberries at your feet, all the
+intoxicating growth and movement of nature, and then ask yourself
+whether the God who created all this warm, sunny life is a God who only
+<i>takes</i>--not <i>gives</i>. Do you believe He would have prepared for us
+this
+Spring of love, that we may let its blossoms wither on the cold altar
+of duty or of prejudice? No--take what He bestows--and do not
+question.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not lead me into temptation, Magdalena!&quot; he gently entreated. &quot;I
+told you this morning that you do not know what you are unloosening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He stood before her as if transfigured, his eyes glowed with the sombre
+fire which had flashed in them a moment early that morning, a rustling
+like eagle's pinions ran through the forest--Jupiter was approaching in
+human form.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The beautiful woman sat down on a log with her hands clasped in her
+lap.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A man like me loves but once, but with his whole being. I <i>demand</i>
+nothing--but what is given to me is given <i>wholly</i>, or not at all; for
+if I once have it, I will never give it up save with my life!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not long since a stranger came here, who sang the song of the Assras,
+who die when they love. I believe I am of their race. Woman, do not
+toy, do not trifle with me! For know--I love you with the fatal love of
+those 'Assras.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau trembled with delight.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I once touch your lips, the barrier between us will have fallen!
+Will you forgive me if the flood-tide of feeling sweeps me away till I
+forget who you are and what a gulf divides the Countess Wildenau from
+the low-born peasant?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, that you can remind me of it--in this hour--!&quot; cried the countess,
+with sorrowful reproach.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He looked almost threateningly into her eyes. The dark locks around his
+head seemed to stir like the bristling mane of a lion: &quot;Woman, you do
+not know me! If you deceive me, you will betray the most sacred emotion
+ever felt by mortal man--and it will be terribly avenged. Then the
+flame you are kindling will consume either you or me, or both. You see
+that I am now a different man. Formerly you have beheld me only when
+curbed by the victorious power of my holy task. You have conjured up
+the spirits, now they can no longer be held in thrall--will you not be
+terrified by the might of a passion which is unknown to you people of
+the world, with your calm self-control?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>I</i>, terrified by you?&quot; cried the proud woman in a tone of exultant
+rapture. &quot;Oh, this is power, this is the very breath of the gods.
+Should I fear amid the element for which I longed--which was revealed
+to me in my own breast? Does the flame fear the fire? The Titaness
+dread the Titan? Ah, Zeus, hurl thy thunderbolt, and let the forest
+blaze as the victorious torch of nature at last released from her long
+bondage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He sat down by her side, his fiery breath fanning her cheek. &quot;Then you
+will try it, will give me the kiss I dared not take to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But it will be a betrothal kiss.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He opened his arms, and as a black moth settles upon a fragrant
+tea-rose, hovering on its velvet wings above the dewy calyx, he bent
+his head to hers, shadowing her with his dark locks and pressed his
+first kiss upon Madeleine von Wildenau's quivering lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But such moments tempt the gods themselves, and Jupiter hovered over
+the pair, full of wrath, for he envied the Christian mortal the
+beautiful woman. He had heard her laughingly challenge him in the midst
+of the joy she had stolen from the gods, and the heavens darkened, the
+hurricane saddled the steeds of the storm, awaiting his beck, and down
+flashed the fire from the sky--a shrill cry rent the air, the highest
+tree in the forest was cleft asunder and the bridal torch lighted by
+Jupiter blazed aloft.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The gods are averse to it,&quot; said Freyer, gloomily. &quot;Defy them!&quot; cried
+the countess, starting up; &quot;they are powerless--we are in the hands of
+a Higher Ruler.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Woman, you do not belong to this world, or you have no nerves which
+can tremble.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tremble?&quot; She laughed happily. &quot;Tremble, by <i>your</i> side?&quot; Then,
+nestling closer still, she murmured: &quot;I am as cowardly as ever woman
+was, but where I love I have the courage to defy death. Even were I to
+fall now beneath a thunderbolt, could I have a fairer death than at
+<i>this</i> moment? You would willingly die for your Christ--and I for
+mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well then, come, you noble woman, that I may shield you as well as I
+can! Now we shall see whether God is with us! I defy the elements!&quot; He
+proudly clasped the object of his love in his arms and bore her firmly
+on through the chaos into which the whole forest had fallen. The
+tempest, howling fiercely, burst its way through the woods. The boughs
+snapped, the birds were hurled about helplessly. The destroying element
+seemed to come from both heights and depths at the same time, for it
+shook the earth and tore the roots of trees from the ground till the
+lofty trunks fell shattered and, rolling down the mountain, swept
+everything with them in the sudden ruin. With fiendish thirst for
+battle the fiery sword flamed from the sky amid the uproar, dealing
+thrust after thrust and blow after blow--while here and there scarlet
+tongues of flame shot hissing upward through the dry branches.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A torrent of rain now dashed from the clouds but without quenching the
+flames, whose smoke was pressed down into the tree-tops, closely
+interlaced by the tempest. Like a gigantic black serpent, it rolled its
+coils from every direction, stifling, suffocating with the glowing
+breath of the forest conflagration, and the undulating cloud body bore
+with it in glittering, flashing sparks, millions of burning pine
+needles.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, soul of fire, is the heat fierce enough for you now?&quot; asked
+Freyer, pressing the beautiful woman closer to his side to shield her
+with his own body: &quot;Are you content now?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; she said, gasping for breath, and the eyes of both met, as if
+they felt only the fire in their own hearts and had blended this with
+the external element into a single sea of flame.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Nearer, closer drew the fire in ever narrowing circles around the
+defiant pair, more and more sultry became the path, brighter grew the
+hissing blaze through which they were compelled to force their way.
+Now on the left, now on the right, the red-eyed conflagration
+confronted them amid the clouds of smoke and flame, half stifled by the
+descending floods of rain, yet pouring from its open jaws hot,
+scorching steam--fatal to laboring human chests--and obliged the
+fugitives to turn back in search of some new opening for escape.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If the rain ceases, we are lost!&quot; said the countess with the utmost
+calmness. &quot;Then the fire will be sole ruler.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer made no reply. Steadily, unflinchingly, he struggled on,
+grasping with the strength of a Titan the falling boughs which
+threatened the countess' life, shielding with both arms her uncovered
+head from the flying sparks, and ever and anon, sprinkling her hair and
+garments from some bubbling spring. The water in the brooks was already
+warm. Throngs of animals fleeing from the flames surrounded them, and
+birds with scorched wings fell at their feet. It was no longer possible
+to go down, the fire was raging below them. They were compelled to
+climb up the mountain and seek the summit.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Only have courage--forward!&quot; were Freyer's sole words. And upward they
+toiled--through the pathless woods, through underbrush and thickets,
+over roots of trees, rolling stones, and rocks, never pausing, never
+taking breath, for the flames were close at their heels, threatening
+them with their fiendish embrace. Where the path was too toilsome,
+Freyer lifted the woman he loved in his arms and bore her over the
+rough places.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last the woods grew thinner, the boundary of the flames was passed,
+they had reached the top--were saved. The neighing steeds of the wind
+received them on the barren height and strove to hurl them back into
+the fiery grave, but Freyer's towering form resisted their assault and,
+with powerless fury, they tore away the rocks on the right and left and
+rolled them thundering down into the depths below. The water pouring
+from the clouds drenched the lovers like a billow from the sea, beating
+into their eyes, mouths, and ears till, blinded and deafened, they were
+obliged to grope their way along the cliff. The garments of the
+beautiful Madeleine von Wildenau hung around her in tatters, heavy as
+lead, her hair was loosened, dripping and dishevelled, she was
+trembling from head to foot with cold in the icy wind and rain here on
+the heights, after the heat and terror below in the smouldering
+thicket.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know where there is a herder's hut, I'll take you to it. Cling
+closely to me, we must climb still higher.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They silently continued the ascent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess staggered with fatigue. Freyer lifted her again in his
+arms, and, by almost superhuman exertion, bore her up the last steep
+ascent to the hut. It was empty. He placed the exhausted woman on the
+herder's straw pallet, where she sank fainting. When she regained her
+consciousness she was supported in Freyer's arms, and her face was wet
+with his tears. She gazed at him as if waking to the reality of some
+beautiful dream. &quot;Is it really you?&quot; she asked, with such sweet
+childlike happiness, as she threw her arms around him, that the strong
+man's brain and heart reeled as if his senses were failing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are alive, you are safe?&quot; He could say no more. He kissed her
+dripping garments her feet, and tenderly examined her beautiful limbs
+to assure himself that she had received no injury. &quot;Thank Heaven!&quot; he
+cried joyously, amid his tears, &quot;you are safe!&quot; Then, half staggering,
+he rose: &quot;Now, in the presence of the deadly peril we have just
+escaped, tell me whether you really love me, tell me whether you are
+mine, <i>wholly</i> mine! Or hurl me down into the blazing forest--it would
+be more merciful, by Heaven! than to deceive me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Joseph!&quot; cried the countess, clinging passionately to him. &quot;Can you
+ask that--now?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas! I cannot understand how a poor ignorant man like me can win the
+love of such a woman. What can you love, save the illusion of the
+Christ, and when that has vanished--what remains?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The divine, the real <i>love</i>!&quot; replied the countess with a lofty
+expression.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I believe that you are sincere. But if you have deceived yourself,
+if you should ever perceive that you have overestimated me--ah, it
+would be far better for me to be lying down below amid the flames than
+to experience <i>that</i>. There is still time--consider well, and say--what
+shall it be?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Consider?&quot; replied the countess, drawing his head down to hers. &quot;Tell
+the torrent to consider ere it plunges over the cliff, to dissolve into
+spray in the leap. Tell the flower to consider ere it opens to the
+sunbeam which will consume it! Will you be more petty than they? What
+is there to consider, when a mighty impulse powerfully constrains us?
+Is not this moment worth risking the whole life without asking: 'What
+is to come of it?' Ah, then--then, I have been mistaken in you and it
+will be better for us to part while there is yet time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh--enchantress! You are right, I no longer know myself! Part, now?
+No, it is too late, I am yours, body and soul. Be it so, then, I will
+barter my life for this moment, and no longer doubt, for I <i>can</i> do
+nothing else.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sinking on his knees before her, he buried his face in her lap.
+Madeleine von Wildenau embraced him with unspeakable tenderness, yet
+she felt the burden of a heavy responsibility resting upon her, for she
+now realized--that she was his destiny. She had what she desired, his
+soul, his heart, his life--nay, had he possessed immortality, he would
+have sacrificed that, too, for her sake. But now the &quot;God&quot; had become
+<i>human</i>--the choice was made. And, with a secret tear she gazed upon
+the husk of the beautiful illusion which had vanished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is the matter?&quot; he asked suddenly, raising his head and gazing
+into her eyes with anxious foreboding. &quot;You have grown cold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, only sad.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas! I do not know! Nothing in this world can be quite perfect.&quot; She
+drew him tenderly toward her. &quot;This is one of those moments in which
+the highest happiness becomes pain. The fury of the elements could not
+harm us, but it is a silent, stealing sorrow, which will appease the
+envy of the gods for unprecedented earthly bliss: Mourning for my
+Christus.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer uttered a cry of anguish and starting up, covered his face with
+both hands. &quot;Oh, that you are forced to remind me of it!&quot; He rushed out
+of the hut.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What did this mean. The beautiful mistress of his heart felt as if she
+had deceived herself when she believed him to be exclusively her own,
+as if there was something in the man over which she had no power!
+Filled with vague terror, she followed him. He stood leaning against
+the hut as if in a dream and did not lift his eyes. The sound of
+alarm-bells and the rattle of fire-arms echoed from the valley. The
+rain had ceased, and columns of flame were now rising high into the
+air, forming a crimson canopy above the trees in the forest. It was a
+wild scene, this glowing sea of fire into which tree after tree
+gradually vanished, the air quivering with the crash of the falling
+boughs, from which rose a shower of sparks, and a crowd of shrieking
+birds eddying amid the flames. Joseph Freyer did not heed it. The
+countess approached almost timidly. &quot;Joseph--have I offended you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, my child, on the contrary! When I reminded you to-day of the
+obligations of your rank, you were angry with me, but I thank you for
+having remembered what I forgot for your sake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well. But, spite of the warning, I was not ashamed of you and did not
+disown you before the Countess Wildenau! But you, Joseph, are ashamed
+of me in the presence of Christ!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He gazed keenly, sorrowfully at her. &quot;I ashamed of you, I deny you in
+the presence of my Redeemer, who is also yours? I deny you, because
+I am forced to confess to Him that I love you beyond everything
+else--nay, perhaps more than I do <i>Him</i>? Oh, my dearest, how little you
+know me! May the day never come which will prove which of us will first
+deny the other, and may you never be forced to weep the tears which
+Peter shed when the cock crowed for the third time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She sank upon his breast. &quot;No, my beloved, that will never be! In the
+hour when <i>that</i> was possible, you might despise me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He kissed her forehead tenderly. &quot;I should not do that--any more than
+Christ despised Peter. You are a child of the world, could treachery to
+me be charged against you if the strong man, the disciple of Christ,
+was pardoned for treason to the <i>holiest</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, my angel! It would be treason to the 'holiest,'&quot; said the countess
+with deep emotion, &quot;if I could deny <i>you</i>!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, for Heaven's sake, Herr Freyer,&quot; shouted a voice, and the
+herdsman came bounding down the mountain side: &quot;Can you stand there so
+quietly--amid this destruction?&quot; The words died away in the distance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The man is right,&quot; said the countess in a startled tone, &quot;we are
+forgetting everything around us. Whoever has hands must help. Go--leave
+me alone here and follow the herdsman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There is no hope of extinguishing the fire, the wood is lost!&quot; replied
+Freyer, indifferently. &quot;It is fortunate that it is an isolated piece of
+land, so the flames cannot spread.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But, Good Heavens, at least try to save what can yet be secured--that
+is only neighborly duty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I shall not leave you, happen what may.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But I am safe, and perhaps some poor man's all, is burning below.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What does it matter, in this hour?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What does it matter?&quot; the countess indignantly exclaimed. &quot;Joseph, I
+do not understand you! Have you so little feeling for the distress of
+your fellow men--and yet play the Christ?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer gazed at the destruction with a strange expression--his noble
+figure towered proudly aloft against the gloomy, cloud-veiled sky.
+Smiling calmly, he held out his hand to the woman he loved and drew her
+tenderly to his breast: &quot;Do not upbraid me, my dove--the wood was
+<i>mine</i>.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>BANISHED FROM EDEN</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Silence reigned on the height. The winds had died away, the
+clouds were
+scattering swiftly, like an army of ghosts. The embers of the wood
+below crackled softly. The trunks had all been gnawed to the roots by
+the fiery tooth of the flames. It was like a churchyard full of clumsy
+black crosses and grave-stones on which the souls danced to and fro
+like will-o'-the-wisps.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess rested silently on Freyer's breast. When he said: &quot;The
+wood was mine!&quot; she had thrown herself, unable to utter a word, into
+his arms--and had since remained clasped in his embrace in silent,
+perfect peace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now the misty veil, growing lighter and more transparent, at last
+drifted entirely away, and the blue sky once more arched above the
+earth in a majestic dome. Here and there sunbeams darted through the
+melting cloud-rack and suddenly, as though the gates of heaven had
+opened, a double rainbow, radiant in seven-hued majesty, spanned the
+vault above them in matchless beauty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer bade the countess look up. And when she perceived the exquisite
+miracle of the air, with her lover in the midst--encompassed by it, she
+raised her head and extended her arms like the bride awaiting the
+heavenly bridegroom. Her eyes rested on him as if dazzled: &quot;Be what you
+will, man, seraph, God. Shining one, you must be mine! I will bring you
+down from the height of your cross, though you were nailed above with
+seven-fold irons. You must be mine. Freyer, hear my vow, hear it, ye
+surrounding mountains, hear it, sacred soil below, and thou radiant
+many-hued bow which, with the grace of Aphrodite, dost girdle the
+universe, risen from chaos. I swear to be your wife, Joseph Freyer,
+swear it by the God Who has appeared to me, rising from marvel to
+marvel, since my eyes first beheld you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer, with bowed head, stood trembling before her. He felt as if a
+goddess was rolling in her chariot of clouds above him--as if the
+glimmering prism above were dissolving and flooding him with a sea of
+glittering sparks. &quot;You--my wife?&quot; he faltered, sobbing, then flung
+himself face downward before her. &quot;This is too much--too much--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You shall be my husband,&quot; she murmured, raising him, &quot;let me call you
+so now until the priest's hand has united us! When, where, and how this
+can be done--I do not yet know! Let the task of deciding be left to
+hours devoted to the consideration of earthly things. This is too
+sacred, it is our spiritual marriage hour, for in it I have pledged
+myself to you in spirit and in truth! Our church is nature, our
+witnesses are heaven and earth, our candles the blazing wood
+below--your little heritage which you sacrificed for me with a smile!
+And so I give you my bridal kiss--my husband!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Freyer did not return the caress. The old conflict again awoke--the
+conflict with his duty as the representative of Christ.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, God--is it not the tempter whom Thou didst send to Thy own son on
+Mt. Hebron that he might show him all the splendors of the world,
+saying: 'All shall be thine?' Dare I be faithless to the character of
+Thy chaste son, if Thou dost appoint me to undergo the same trial? Dare
+I be happy, dare I enjoy, so long as I wear the sacred mask of His
+sufferings and sacrifice. Will it not then be a terrible fraud, and
+dare I enter the presence of God with this lie upon my conscience? Will
+He not tear the crown of thorns from my head and exclaim: 'Juggler--I
+wish to rise by the pure and saintly--not by deceivers who <i>feign</i> my
+sufferings and with deceitful art turn the holiest things into a farce.
+Woe betide me, poor, weak mortal that I am--the trial is too severe. I
+cannot endure it. Take Thy crown--I place it in Thy hands again--and
+will personate the Christ no more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Joseph!&quot; exclaimed Countess Wildenau, deeply moved. &quot;Must this be? I
+feel your anguish and am stirred as if we were parting from our dearest
+possession.&quot; She raised her tearful eyes heavenward. &quot;Must the Christ
+vanish on the very day I plight my troth to him whom I love as Thy
+image, even as Eve must have loved Adam <i>for the sake of his likeness
+to God</i>. And must I, like Eve, no longer behold Thy face because I have
+loved the divine in mortal form after the manner of mortals? Unhappy
+doctrine of the fall of man, which renders the holiest feeling a crime,
+must we too be driven out of Paradise, must you stand between us and
+our happy intercourse with the deity? Joseph. Do you believe that the
+Saviour Who came to bring redemption to the poor human race banished
+from Eden, will be angry with you if you represent with a happy loving
+heart the sacrifice by which He saved us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know, my beloved, you may be right. Even the time-honored
+precepts of our forefathers permit the representative of the Christ to
+be married. Yet I think differently! The highest demands claim the
+loftiest service! Whoever is permitted to personate the Saviour should
+have at that time no other feelings than moved Christ Himself, for
+<i>truth</i> may not be born of <i>falsehood</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He drew the weeping woman to his heart. &quot;You know, sweet wife--to love
+<i>you</i> and call you <i>mine</i> is a very different thing from the
+monotonous
+commonplace matrimonial happiness which our plain village women can
+bestow. You demand the <i>whole</i> being and every power of the soul is
+consumed in you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He clasped her in an embrace so fervent that her breath almost failed,
+his eyes blazed with the passionate ardor with which the unchained
+elements seize their prey. &quot;Say what you will, it is on your
+conscience! I can feel nothing, think of nothing save you! Nay, if they
+should drive the nails through my own flesh, I should not heed it, in
+my ardent yearning for you. I have struggled long enough, but you have
+bewitched me with the sweet promise of becoming my wife--and I am
+spoiled for personating the Christ. I am yours, take me! Only fly with
+me to the farthest corner of the world, away from the place where I was
+permitted to feel myself a part of God, and resigned it for an earthly
+happiness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come then, my beloved, let us go forth like the pair banished from
+Eden, and like them take upon us, for love's sake, our heavy human
+destiny! Let us bear it together, and even in exile love and worship,
+like faithful cast-off children, the Father who was once so near us!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Amen!&quot; said Freyer, clasping the beautiful woman who thus devoted her
+life to him in a long, silent embrace. The rainbow above their heads
+gradually paled. The radiant splendor faded. The sun was again
+concealed by clouds, and the warm azure of the sky was transformed into
+a chill grey by the rising mists. The mountain peak lay bare and
+cheerless, the earth was rent and ravaged, nothing was visible save
+rough rubble and colorless heather. An icy fog rose slowly, gathering
+more and more densely around them. Nothing could be seen save the
+sterile soil of the naked ridge on which stood the two lonely outcasts
+from Eden. The gates of their dream paradise had closed behind them,
+the spell was broken, and in silent submission they moved down the
+hard, stony path to reality, the cruel uncertainty of human destiny.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>PIETA</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Twilight was gathering when the pair reached the valley.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Passion Theatre loomed like a vast shadow by the roadside, and
+both, as if moved by the <i>same</i> impulse, turned toward it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer, drawing a key from his pocket, opened the door leading to the
+stage. &quot;Shall we take leave of it?&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Take leave!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess said no more. She knew that the success of the rest of the
+performances depended solely upon him--and it burdened her soul like a
+heavy reproach. Yet she did not tell him so, for hers he must be--at
+any cost.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The strength of her passion swept her on to her robbery of the cross,
+as the wind bears away the leaf it has stripped from the tree.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They entered the property room. There stood the stake, there lay the
+scourges which lacerated the sacred body. The spear that pierced his
+heart was leaning in a corner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau gazed around her with a feeling of dread. Freyer
+had lighted a lamp. Something close beside it flashed, sending its rays
+far through the dim space. It was the cup, the communion cup! Freyer
+touched it with a trembling hand: &quot;Farewell! I shall never offer you to
+any one again! May all blessings flow from you! Happy the hand which
+scatters them over the world and my beloved Ammergau.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He kissed the brim of the goblet, and a tear fell into it, but it
+glittered with the same unshadowed radiance. Freyer turned away, and
+his eyes wandered over the other beloved trophies.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There lay the reed sceptre broken on the floor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess shuddered at the sight. A strange melancholy stole over
+her, and tears filled her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My sceptre of reeds--broken--in the dust!&quot; said Freyer, his voice
+tremulous with an emotion which forced an answering echo in Madeleine
+von Wildenau's soul. He raised the fragments, gazing at them long and
+mournfully. &quot;Aye, the sad symbol speaks the truth--my strength is
+broken, my sovereignty vanished.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A terrible dread overpowered the countess and she fondly clasped the
+man she loved, as a princess might press to her heart her dethroned
+husband, grieving amid the ruins of his power. &quot;You will still remain
+king in my heart!&quot; she said, consolingly, amid her tears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You must now be everything to me, my loved one. In you is my Heaven,
+my justification in the presence of God. Hold me closely, firmly, for
+you must lift me in your arms out of this constant torture by the
+redeeming power of love.&quot; He rested his head wearily on hers, and she
+gladly supported the precious burden. She felt at that moment that she
+had the power to lift him from Hades, that the love in her heart was
+strong enough to win Heaven for him and herself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Womanly nature is drawing us together!&quot; She clung to him, so absorbed
+in blissful melancholy that his soul thrilled with an emotion never
+experienced before. Their lips now met in a kiss as pure as if all
+earthly things were at an end and their rising souls were greeting each
+other in a loftier sphere.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That was an angel's kiss!&quot; said Freyer with a sigh, while the air
+around the stake seemed to quiver with the rustling of angels' wings,
+the chains which bound him to it for the scourging to clank as though
+some invisible hand had flung one end around the feet of the fugitives,
+to bind them forever to the place of the cross.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, I have one more thing to do.&quot; He took the lamp from the table
+and went into the dressing-room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There hung the raiment in which a God revealed Himself to mortal
+eyes--the ample garments stirred mysteriously in the draught from the
+open door. A glimmering white figure seemed to be soaring upward in one
+corner--it was the Resurrection robe. Inflated by the wind, it floated
+with a ghost-like movement, while the man divested of his divinity
+stood with clasped hands and drooping head--to say farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When a mortal strips off his earthly husk he knows that he will
+exchange it for a brighter one! <i>Here</i> a mortal was stripping off his
+robe of light and returning to the oppressive form of human
+imperfection. This, too, was a death agony.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess clung to him tenderly. &quot;Have you forgotten me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He threw his arm around her. &quot;Why, sweet one?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I mean,&quot; she said, with childlike grace, &quot;that if you thought of <i>me</i>,
+you could not be so sad.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My child, I forget you at the moment I am resigning Heaven for your
+sake. You do not ask that seriously. As for the pain, let me endure
+it--for if I could do this with a <i>light</i> heart, would the sacrifice be
+worthy of you? By the anguish it costs me you must measure the
+greatness of my love, if you can.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can, for even while I rest upon your heart, while my lips eagerly
+inhale your breath, I pine with longing for your lost divinity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And no longer love me as you did when I was the Christ. Be frank--it
+will come!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He pressed his hands upon his breast, while his eyes rested mournfully
+on the shining robe which seemed to beckon to him from the gloom.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, what are you saying! You sacrifice for me the greatest possession
+which man ever resigned for woman; the illusion of deity--and I am to
+punish you for the renunciation by loving you less? Joseph, what <i>you</i>
+give me, no king can bestow. Crowns have been sacrificed for a woman's
+sake, crowns of gold--but never one like this!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My wife!&quot; he murmured in sweet, mournful tones, while his dark eyes
+searched hers till her very soul swooned under the power of the look.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She clasped her hands upon his breast. &quot;Will you grant me one favor?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I can.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, then, appear to me once more as the Christ. I will go out upon the
+stage. Throw the sacred robe over you--let me see Him once more, clasp
+His knees--let me take farewell, an eternal farewell of the departing
+One.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My child, that would be a sin! Are you again forgetting what you
+yourself perceived this morning with prescient grief--that I am a man?
+Dare I continue the sacred character outside of the play? That would be
+working wrong under the mask of my Saviour.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, it would be no wrong to satisfy the longing for His face. I will
+not touch you, only once more, for the last time show my wondering eyes
+the sublime figure and let the soul pour forth all the anguish of
+parting to the vanishing God.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My wife, where is your error carrying you! Did the God-Man I
+personated vanish because I stripped off His mask? Poor wife, the
+anguish which now masters you is remorse for having in your sweet
+womanly weakness destroyed the pious illusion and never rested until
+you made the imaginary God a man. Oh, Magdalena, how far you still are
+from the goal gained by your predecessor. Come, I will satisfy your
+longing; I will lead you where you will perceive that He is everywhere,
+if we really seek Him, that the form alone is perishable. He is
+imperishable.&quot; Then gently raising her, he tenderly repeated: &quot;Come.
+Trust me and follow me.&quot; Casting one more sorrowful glance around him,
+he took from the table the crown of thorns, extinguished the lamp, and
+with a steady arm guided the weeping woman through the darkness.
+Outside of the building the stars were shining brightly, the road was
+distinctly visible. The countess unresistingly accompanied him. He
+turned toward the village and they walked swiftly through the silent
+streets. At last the church rose, dark and solemn, before them. He led
+her in. A holy-water font stood at the entrance, and, pausing, he
+sprinkled her with the water. Then they entered. The church was dark.
+No light illumined it save the trembling rays of the ever-burning lamp
+and two candles flickering low in their sockets before an image of the
+Madonna in a remote corner. They were obliged to grope their way
+forward slowly amid the wavering shadows. At the left of the entrance
+stood a &quot;Pieta.&quot; It was a group almost life-size, carved from wood. The
+crucified Saviour in the Madonna's lap. Mary Magdalene was supporting
+his left hand, raising it slightly, while John stood at the Saviour's
+feet. The whole had been created by an artist's hand with touching
+realism. The expression of anguish in the Saviour's face was very
+affecting. Before the group stood a priedieu on which lay several
+withered wreaths.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess' heart quivered; he was leading her there! So this was to
+be the compensation for the living image? Mere dead wood?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer drew her gently down upon the priedieu. &quot;Here, my child, learn
+to seek him here, and when you have once found Him, you will never lose
+Him more. Lay your hands devoutly on the apparently lifeless breast and
+you will feel the heart within throbbing, as in mine--only try.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas, I cannot, it will be a falsehood if I do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What, <i>that</i> a falsehood, and I--was <i>I</i> the Christ?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I could imagine it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because I breathed? Ah, the breath of the deity can swell more than a
+human breast, sister, and you will hear it! Collect your thoughts--and
+pray!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His whisper grew fainter, the silence about her more solemn. &quot;I cannot
+pray; I never have prayed,&quot; she lamented, &quot;and surely not to lifeless
+wood.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Only try--for my sake,&quot; he urged gently, as if addressing a restless
+child, which ought to go to sleep and will not.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes; but stay with me,&quot; she pleaded like a child, clinging to his arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will stay,&quot; he said, kneeling by her side.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Teach me to pray as you do,&quot; she entreated, raising her delicate hands
+to him. He clasped them in his, and she felt as if the world could do
+her no further harm, that her soul, her life, lay in his firm hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The warmth emanating from him became in her a devout fervor. The pulses
+of ardent piety throbbing in his finger-tips seemed to communicate a
+wave-like motion to the surrounding air, which imparted to everything
+which hitherto had been dead and rigid, an undulating movement that
+lent it a faint, vibrating life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something stirred, breathed, murmured before and above her. There was a
+rustling among the withered leaves of the garlands at the foot of the
+Pieta, invisible feet glided through the church and ascended the steps
+of the high altar; high up the vaulted dome rose a murmur which
+wandered to the folds of the funeral banner, hanging above, passing
+from pillar to pillar, from arch to arch, in ghostly echoes which the
+listening ear heard with secret terror, the language of the silence.
+And the burning eyes beheld the motionless forms begin to stir. The
+contours of the figures slowly changed in the uncertain, flickering
+light, the shadows glided and swung to and fro. The Saviour's lips
+opened, then slowly closed, the kneeling woman touched the rigid limbs
+and laid her fevered fingers on the wounded breast. The other hand
+rested in Freyer's. A chain was thus formed between the three, which
+thrilled and warmed the wood with the circulating stream of the hot
+blood. It was no longer a foreign substance--it was the heart, the poor
+pierced heart of their beloved, divine friend. It throbbed, suffered,
+bled. More and more distinctly the chest rose and fell with the regular
+breathing. It was the creative breath of the deity, which works in the
+conscious and unconscious object, animating even soulless matter. The
+arm supported by Mary Magdalene swayed to and fro, the fingers of the
+hand moved gently. The poor pierced hand--it seemed as if it were
+trying to move toward the countess, as if it were pleading, &quot;Cool my
+pain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Urged by an inexplicable impulse, the countess warmed the stiff,
+slender fingers in her own. She fancied that it was giving relief.
+Higher and higher swelled the tide of feeling in her heart until it
+overflowed--and--she knew not how, she had risen and pressed a kiss
+upon the wounds in the poor little hand, a kiss of the sweetest, most
+sacred piety. She felt as if she were standing by a beloved corpse
+whose mute lips we seek, though they no longer feel.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She could not help it, and bending down again the rosy lips of the
+young widow rested on the pale half-parted ones of the statue. But the
+lips breathed, a cool, pure breath issued from them, and the rigid form
+grew more pliant beneath the sorrowful caress, as though it felt the
+reconciling pain of the penitent human soul. But the divine fire which
+was to purify this soul, blazed far beyond its boundaries in this first
+ardor. Overpowered by a wild fervor, she flung herself on her knees and
+adjured the God whose breath she had drunk in that kiss, to hear her.
+The friend praying at her side was forgotten, the world had vanished,
+every law of reason was annihilated, all knowledge was out of her
+mind--every hard-won conquest of human empiricism was effaced. From the
+heights and from the depths it came with rustling pinions, bearing the
+soul away on the flood-tide of mercy. The <i>miracle</i> was approaching--in
+unimagined majesty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thousands of years vanished, eternity dawned in that <i>one</i> moment. All
+that was and is, <i>was</i> not and <i>is</i> not--past, present, and future,
+were blended and melted into a single breath beyond the boundaries of
+the natural life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If it is Thou, if Thou dost live, look at me,&quot; she had cried with
+ardent aspiration, and, lo!--was it shadow or imagination?--the eyes
+opened and two large dark pupils were fixed upon her, then the lids
+closed for an instant to open again The countess gazed more and more
+earnestly; it was distinct, unmistakable. A shudder ran through her
+veins as, in a burning fever, the limbs tremble with a sudden chill.
+She tried to meet the look, but spite of the tension in every nerve,
+the effort was futile. It was too overpowering; it was the gaze of a
+God. Dread and rapture were contending for the mastery. Doubtless she
+said to herself, &quot;It is not <i>outside</i> of you, but within you.&quot; Once
+more she ventured to glance at the mysterious apparition, but the eyes
+were fixed steadily upon her. Terror overpowered her. The chord of the
+possible snapped and she sank half senseless on the steps of the altar,
+while the miracle closed its golden wings above her.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">CHAPTER XV.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE CROWING OF THE COCK</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A loud step roused the rapt enthusiast from her visions. The
+sacristan
+was passing through the church, extinguishing the candles which,
+meanwhile, had burned down in their sockets before the Madonna in the
+distant corner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I beg your pardon for disturbing you,&quot; he said; &quot;but I wanted to close
+the church. There is plenty of time, however. Shall I leave a candle?
+It will be too dark; the lamp alone does not give sufficient light.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you,&quot; replied Freyer, more thoughtful than the countess, who,
+unable to control herself, remained on her knees with her face buried
+in her hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will lock the church when we leave it and bring you the key,&quot; Freyer
+added, and the sacristan was satisfied. The imperious high priest
+withdrew silently and modestly, that he might not disturb the prayers
+of the man whom he sentenced to death every week with such fury.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lovers were again alone, but the door remained open. The shrill
+crowing of a cock suddenly echoed through the stillness from the yard
+of the neighboring parsonage. The countess started up. Her eyes were
+painfully dazzled by the light of the wax candle so close at hand.
+Before her, the face smeared with shining varnish, lay the wooden
+Christ, hard and cold in its carven bareness and rigidity. The
+pale-blue painted eyes gazed with the traditional mournfulness upon the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What startled you just now?&quot; asked Freyer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know whether it was a miracle or a shadow, which created the
+illusion, but I would have sworn that the statue moved its lids and
+looked at me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Be it what it might, it was still a miracle,&quot; said Freyer. &quot;If the
+finger of God can paint the Saviour's eyes to the excited vision from
+the wave of blood set in motion by the pulsation of our hearts, or from
+the shadow cast by a smoking candle, is that any less wonderful than if
+the stiff lids had really moved?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess breathed a long sigh of relief; &quot;Yes, you are right. That
+is the power which, as you say, can do more than swell a human breast,
+it can make, for the yearning soul, a heart throb even in a Christ
+carved from wood. Even if what I have just experienced could have been
+done by lifeless matter, the power which brought us together was
+divine, and no one living could have resisted it. Lay aside your crown
+of thorns trustfully and without remorse, you have accomplished your
+mission, you have saved the soul for which God destined you, it was His
+will, and who among us could resist Him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer raised the crown of thorns, which he still held, to his lips,
+kissed it, and laid it at the feet of the Pieta: &quot;Lord, Thy will be
+done, in so far as it is Thy will. And if it is not, forgive the
+error.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is no error, I understand God's purpose better. He has sent me His
+image in you and given it to me in an attainable human form, that I may
+learn through it to do my duty to the prototype. To the feeble power of
+the novice in faith. He graciously adds an earthly guide. Oh, He is
+good and merciful!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She raised Freyer from his knees: &quot;Come, thou God-given one, that I may
+fulfil the sweetest duty ever imposed on any mortal, that of loving you
+and making you happy. God and His holy will be praised.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And will you no longer grieve for the lost Christ?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, for you were right. He is everywhere!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In God's name then, come and obey the impulse of your heart, even
+though I perish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can you speak so to-day, Joseph?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To-day especially. Would you not just now have sworn to the truth of
+an illusion conjured up by a shadow? And were you not disappointed when
+the light came and the spell vanished? The time will come when you will
+see me, as you now do this wooden figure, in the light of commonplace
+reality, and then the nimbus will vanish and nothing will remain save
+the dross as here. Then your soul will turn away disenchanted and
+follow the vanished God to loftier heights.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Or plunge into the depths,&quot; murmured the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I should not fear that, for then my mission would have been vain! No,
+my child, if I did not believe that I was appointed to save you I
+should have no excuse in my own eyes for what I am doing. But come, it
+is late, we must return home or our absence will occasion comment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="center" style="letter-spacing:20px">* * * * * * * * *</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was half-past nine o'clock. An elderly gentleman of distinguished
+aristocratic bearing was pacing impatiently to and fro.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The two sisters were standing helplessly in the doorway, deeply
+oppressed by the burden of so haughty a guest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If she would only come!&quot; Sephi lamented in the utmost anxiety, for she
+dreaded the father for the daughter's sake. It was the old Prince von
+Prankenberg, and his bearing augured nothing good.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It seemed to these loyal souls a democratic impertinence on the part of
+fate that <i>such</i> a gentleman should be kept waiting, and the prince
+regarded it in precisely the same light. The good creatures would
+willingly have lent wings to the daughter for whom <i>such</i> a father was
+waiting. But what did it avail that the noble lord constantly quickened
+his pace as he walked to and fro, time and his unsuspicious daughter
+did not do the same. Prince Prankenberg had reached Ammergau at noon
+that day and waited in vain for the countess. On his arrival he had
+found the whole village in an uproar over the conflagration in the
+woods, and the countess and Herr Freyer, who had been seen walking
+together in that direction, were missing. At last the herder reported
+that they had been in the mountain pasture with him, and Ludwig Gross,
+on his return from directing the firemen in the futile effort to
+extinguish the flames, set off to inform the Countess Wildenau of her
+father's arrival. He had evidently failed to find her, for he ought to
+have returned long before. So the faithful women had been on coals of
+fire ever since. Andreas Gross had gone to the village to look for the
+absent ones, as if that could be of any service! Josepha was gazing
+sullenly through the window-panes at the prince, who had treated her as
+scornfully as if she were a common maid-servant, when she offered to
+show him the way to the countess' room, and answered: &quot;People can't
+stay in such a hole!&quot; Meanwhile night had closed in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last, coming from exactly the opposite direction, a couple
+approached whose appearance attracted the nobleman's attention. A
+female figure, bare-headed, with dishevelled hair and tattered,
+disordered garments, leaning apparently almost fainting on the arm of a
+tall, bearded man in a peasant's jacket. Could it--no, it was
+impossible, that <i>could</i> not be his daughter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The unsuspecting pair came nearer. The lady, evidently exhausted, was
+really almost carried by her companion. It was too dark for the prince
+to see distinctly, but her head seemed to be resting on the peasant's
+breast. An interesting pair of lovers! But they drew nearer, the prince
+could not believe his eyes, it <i>was</i> his daughter, leaning on a
+peasant's arm. There was an involuntary cry of horror from both as
+Countess Wildenau stood face to face with her haughty father. The blood
+fairly congealed in Madeleine's veins, her cheeks blanched till their
+pallor glimmered through the gloom! Yet the habit of maintaining social
+forms did not desert her: &quot;Oh, what a surprise! Good evening, Papa!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her soul had retreated to the inmost depths of her being, and she was
+but a puppet moving and speaking by rule.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer raised his hat in a farewell salute.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you going?&quot; she said with an expressionless glance. &quot;I suppose I
+cannot ask you to rest a little while? Farewell, Herr Freyer, and many
+thanks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How strange! Did it not seem as if a cock crowed?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer bowed silently and walked on, &quot;Adieu!&quot; said the prince without
+lifting his hat. For an instant he considered whether he could possibly
+offer his aim to a lady in <i>such</i> attire, but at last resolved to do
+so--she was his daughter, and this was not exactly the right moment to
+quarrel with her. So, struggling with his indignation and disgust, he
+escorted her, holding his arm very far out as though he might be soiled
+by the contact, through the house into her room. The Gross sisters,
+with trembling hands, brought in lights and hastily vanished. Madeleine
+von Wildenau stood in the centre of the room, like an automaton whose
+machinery had run down. The prince took a candle from the table and
+threw its light full upon her face. &quot;Pardon me, I must ascertain
+whether this lady, who looks as if she had just jumped out of a
+gipsy-cart, is really my daughter? Yes, it is actually she!&quot; he
+exclaimed in a tone intended to be humorous, but which was merely
+brutal. &quot;So I find the Countess Wildenau in <i>this</i> guise--ragged, worn,
+with neither hat nor gloves, wandering about with peasants! It is
+incredible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess sank into a chair without a word. Her father's large,
+stern features were flushed with a wrath which he could scarcely
+control.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you gone out of fashion so completely that you must seek your
+society in such circles as these, <i>ma fille</i>? Could no cavalier be
+found to escort the Countess Wildenau that she must strike up an
+intimacy with one of the comedians in the Passion Play?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;An intimacy? Papa, this is an insult!&quot; exclaimed the countess angrily,
+for though it was true, she felt that on his lips and in <i>his</i> meaning
+it was such! Again a cock crowed at this unwonted hour.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well <i>ma chère</i>, when a lady is caught half embraced by such a man,
+the inference is inevitable.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear me, I was so exhausted that I could scarcely stand,&quot; replied the
+countess, softly, as if the cocks might hear: &quot;We were caught by the
+storm and the man was obliged to support me. I should think, however,
+that the Countess Wildenau's position was too high for such
+suspicions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, well, I heard in Munich certain rumors about your long stay here
+which accorded admirably with the romantic personage who has just left
+you. My imaginative daughter always had strange fancies, and as you
+seem able to endure the peasant odor--I am somewhat more sensitive to
+it ...&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Papa!&quot; cried the countess, frantic with shame. &quot;I beg you not to speak
+in that way of people whom I esteem.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Aha!&quot; said the prince with a short laugh, &quot;Your anger speaks plainly
+enough. I will make no further allusion to these delicate relations.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess remained silent a moment, struggling with her emotions.
+Should she confess all--should she betray the mystery of the &quot;God in
+man?&quot; Reveal it to this frivolous, prosaic man from whose mockery,
+even in her childhood, she had carefully concealed every nobler
+feeling--disclose to him her most sacred possession, the miracle of her
+life? No, it would be desecration. &quot;I <i>have</i> no delicate relations! I
+scarcely know these people--I am interested in this Freyer as the
+representative of the Christ--he is nothing more to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The cede crowed for the third time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What was that? I am continually hearing cocks crow to-night. Did you
+hear nothing?&quot; asked the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not the slightest sound! Have you hallucinations?&quot; asked the prince:
+&quot;The cocks are all asleep at this hour.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She knew it--the sound was but the echo of her own conscience. She
+thought of the words Freyer had uttered that day upon the mountain, and
+his large eyes gazed mournfully, yet forgivingly at her. Now she knew
+why Peter was pardoned! He would not suffer the God in whom he could
+not force men to believe to be profaned--so he concealed Him in his
+heart. He knew that the bond which united him to Christ and the work
+which he was appointed to do for Him was greater than the cheap
+martyrdom of an acknowledgment of Him to the dull ears of a handful of
+men and maid-servants! It was no lie when he said: &quot;I know not the
+man&quot;--for he really did <i>not</i> know the Christ whom <i>they</i> meant. He
+was
+denying--not <i>Christ</i>, but the <i>criminal</i>, whom they believed Him to
+be. It was the same with the countess. She was not ashamed of the man
+she loved, only of the person her father saw in him and, as she could
+not explain to the prince what Joseph Freyer was to her, she denied him
+entirely. But even as Peter mourned as a heavy sin the brief moment in
+which he faithlessly separated from his beloved Master, she, too, now
+felt a keen pang, as though a wound was bleeding in her heart, and
+tears streamed from her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are nervous, <i>ma fille</i>! It isn't worth while. Tears for the sake
+of that worthy villager?&quot; said the prince, with a contemptuous shrug of
+the shoulders. &quot;Listen, <i>ma chère</i>, I believe it would be better for
+you to marry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Papa!&quot; exclaimed the countess indignantly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince laughed: &quot;No offence, when women like you begin to be
+sentimental--it is time for them to marry! You were widowed too
+young--it was a misfortune for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A misfortune? May God forgive you the sneer and me the words--it was a
+misfortune that Wildenau lived so long--nay more: that I ever became
+his wife, and you, Papa, ought never to remind me of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because I might forget that you <i>are</i> my father--as <i>you</i> forget it
+when you sold me to that greybeard?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Sold? What an expression, <i>chére enfant</i>! Is this the result of your
+study of peasant life here? I congratulate you on the enlargement of
+your vocabulary. This is the gratitude of a daughter for whom the most
+brilliant match in the whole circle of aristocratic families was
+selected.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And her soul sold in exchange,&quot; the countess interrupted; &quot;for that my
+moral nature was not utterly destroyed is no credit of yours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince smiled with an air of calm superiority: &quot;Capital! Moral
+nature destroyed! When a girl is wedded to one of the oldest members of
+the German nobility and made the possession of a yearly income of half
+a million! That is what she calls moral destruction and an outrageous
+deed, of which the inhuman father must not remind his daughter without
+forfeiting his <i>paternal rights</i>. It is positively delicious!&quot; He
+laughed and drew out his cigar case: &quot;You see, <i>ma fille</i>--I understand
+a jest. Will you be annoyed if I smoke a Havana in this rural
+bed-room?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As you please!&quot; replied the countess, who had now regained her former
+cold composure, holding the candle to him. The prince scanned her
+features with the searching gaze of a connoisseur as she thus stood
+before him illumined by the ruddy glow. &quot;You have lost a little of your
+freshness, my child, but you are still beautiful--still charming. I
+admit that Wildenau was rather too old for a poetic nature like
+yours--but there is still time to compensate for it. When were you
+born? A father ought not to ask his daughter's age--but the Almanach de
+Gotha tells the story. You must be now--stop! You were not quite
+seventeen when you married Wildenau--you were married nine years--you
+have been a widow two--that makes you twenty-eight. There is still
+time, but--not much to lose! I am saying this to you in a mother's
+place, my child&quot;--he added, with a repulsive affectation of tenderness.
+His daughter made no reply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is true, you will lose your income if you give up the name of
+Wildenau--as the will reads 'exchange it for another.' This somewhat
+restricts your choice, for you can resign this colossal dower only in
+favor of a match which can partially supply your loss.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess turned deadly pale. &quot;That is the curse Wildenau hurled
+upon me from his grave. It was not enough that I was miserable during
+his life, no--I must not be happy even after his death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why--who has told you so? You have your choice among any of the
+handsome and wealthy men who can offer you an equivalent for all that
+you resign. Prince von Metten-Barnheim, for instance! He is a
+visionary, it is true--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Prosaic Prince Emil a visionary!&quot; said the countess, laughing
+bitterly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, I think that a man who surrounds himself so much with plebeian
+society, scholars and authors, might properly be termed a visionary!
+When his father dies, the luckless country will be ruled by loud-voiced
+professors. What does that matter! He'll suit you all the better, as
+you are half a scholar yourself. True, it might be said that the
+Barnheim family is of inferior rank to ours--the Prankenbergs are an
+older race and from the days of Charlemagne have not made a single
+<i>mesalliance</i>, while the Barnheim genealogical tree shows several
+gaps--which explains their liberal tendencies. Such things always
+betray themselves. Yet on the other hand, they are reigning dukes, and
+we a decaying race--so it is tolerably equal. You are interested in
+him--so decide at last and marry him, then you will be a happy woman
+and the curse of the will can have no power.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed?&quot; cried the countess, trembling with excitement. &quot;But suppose
+that I loved another, a poor man, whom I could not wed unless I
+possessed some property of my own, however small, and the will made me
+a <i>beggar</i> the moment I gave him my hand--what then? Should I not have
+a right to hate the jealous despot and the man who sacrificed me to his
+selfish interests--even though he was my own father?&quot; A glance of the
+keenest reproach fell upon the prince.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was startled by this outburst of passion, hitherto unknown in his
+experience of this apathetic woman. He could make no use of her present
+mood. Biting off a leaf from his cigar, he blew it into the air with a
+graceful movement of the lips. Some change had taken place in
+Madeleine, that was evident! If, after all, she should commit some
+folly--make a love-match? But with whom? Again the scene he had
+witnessed that evening rose before his mind! She had let her head rest
+on the shoulder of a common peasant--that could not be denied, he had
+<i>seen</i> it with his own eyes. Did such a delusion really exist? A woman
+of her temperament was incomprehensible--she would be quite capable, in
+a moment of enthusiasm, of throwing her whole splendid fortune away and
+giving society an unparalleled spectacle. Who could tell what ideas
+such a &quot;lunatic&quot; might take into her head. And yet--who could prevent
+it? No one had any power over her--least of all he himself, who could
+not even threaten her with disinheritance, since it was long since he
+had possessed anything he could call his own. An old gambler,
+perpetually struggling with debt, who had come that day, that very day,
+to--nay, he was reluctant to confess it to himself. And he had already
+irritated his daughter, his last refuge, the only support which still
+kept his head above water, more than was wise or prudent--he dared not
+venture farther.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had the suppressed brutality of all violent natures which cannot
+have their own way, are not masters of their passions and their
+circumstances, and hence are constantly placed in the false position of
+being compelled to ask the aid of others!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After having busied himself a sufficiently long time with his cigar,
+he said in a soothing and--for so imperious a man--repulsively
+submissive tone: &quot;Well, <i>ma fille</i>, there is an expedient for that case
+also. If you loved a man who was too poor to maintain an establishment
+suitable for you--you might do the one thing without forfeiting the
+other--Wildenau's will mentions only <i>a change of name</i>: you might
+marry secretly--keep his name and with it his property.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Papa!&quot; exclaimed the countess--a burning blush crimsoned her cheeks,
+but her eyes were fixed with intense anxiety upon the speaker--&quot;I could
+not expect that from a husband whom I esteemed and loved.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why not? If he could offer you no maintenance, he could not ask you to
+sacrifice yours! Surely it would be enough if you gave him yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If he would accept me under such conditions,&quot;' she answered,
+thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Aha--we are on the right track!&quot; the prince reflected, watching her
+keenly. &quot;As soon as he perceived that there was no other possibility of
+making you his--certainly! A woman like you can persuade a man to do
+anything. I don't wish to be indiscreet, but, <i>ma fille</i>--I fear that
+you have made a choice of which you cannot help being ashamed. Could
+you think of forming such an alliance except in secret. If, that is,
+you <i>must</i> wed? What would the world say when rumor whispered:
+'Countess Wildenau has sunk so low that she'--I dare not utter the
+word, from the fear of offending you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess sat with downcast eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The world--! It suddenly stood before her with its mocking faces.
+Should she expose her sacred love to its derision? Should she force the
+noble simple-mannered man who was the salvation of her soul to play a
+ridiculous part in the eyes of society, as the husband of the Countess
+Wildenau? Her father was right--though from very different motives.
+Could this secret which was too beautiful, too holy, to be confided to
+her own father--endure the contact of the world?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But how could a secret marriage be arranged?&quot; she asked, with feigned
+indifference.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince von Prankenberg was startled by the earnestness of the question.
+Had matters gone so far? Caution was requisite here. Energetic
+opposition could only produce the opposite result, perhaps a public
+scandal. He reflected a moment while apparently toiling to puff rings
+of smoke into the air, as if the world contained no task more
+important. His daughter's eyes rested on him with suspicious keenness.
+At last he seemed to have formed his plan.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A secret marriage? Why, that is an easy matter for a woman of your
+wealth and independent position! Is the person in question a Catholic?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine silently nodded assent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well--then the matter is perfectly simple. Follow the example of
+Manzoni's <i>promessi sposi</i>, with whom we are sufficiently tormented
+while studying Italian. Go with your chosen husband to the pastor and
+declare before him, in the presence of two witnesses, who can easily be
+found among your faithful servants, that you take each other in
+marriage. According to the rite of the Catholic church, it is
+sufficient to constitute a valid marriage, if both parties make this
+declaration, even without the marriage ceremonial, in the presence of
+an ordained priest--your ordained priest in this case would be our old
+pastor at Prankenberg. You can play the farce best there. You will thus
+need no papers, no special license, which might betray you, and if you
+manage cleverly you will succeed in persuading the decrepit old man not
+to enter the marriage in the church register. Then let any one come
+and say that you are married! There will be absolutely no proof--and
+when the old pastor dies the matter will go down to the grave with him!
+You will choose witnesses on whom you can depend. What risk can there
+be?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Father! But will that be a marriage?&quot; cried the countess in horror.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not according to <i>our</i> ideas,&quot; said the prince, laconically: &quot;But the
+point is merely that <i>he</i> shall consider himself married, and that <i>he</i>
+shall be bound--not you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Father--I will not play such a farce!&quot; She turned away with loathing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you are in earnest--there will be no farce, <i>ma chère</i>! It will
+rest entirely with you whether you regard yourself as married or not.
+In the former case you will have the pleasant consciousness of a moral
+act without its troublesome consequences--can go on a journey after the
+pseudo wedding, roam through foreign lands with a reliable maid, and
+then return perhaps with one or two 'adopted' children, whom, as a
+philanthropist, you will educate and no one can discover anything. The
+anonymous husband may be installed by the Countess Wildenau under some
+title on one of her distant estates, and the marriage will be as happy
+as any--only less prosaic! But you will thus spare yourself an endless
+scandal in the eyes of society, keep your pastoral dream, and yet
+remain the wealthy and powerful Countess Wildenau. Is not that more
+sensible than in Heaven knows what rhapsody to sacrifice honor,
+position, wealth, and--your old father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My father?&quot; asked the countess, who had struggled with the most
+contradictory emotions while listening to the words of the prince.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why yes&quot;--he busied himself again with his cigar, which he was now
+obliged to exchange for another, &quot;You know, <i>chère enfant</i>, the duties
+of our position impose claims upon families of princely rank, which,
+unfortunately, my finances no longer allow me to meet. I--h'm--I find
+myself compelled--unpleasant as it is--to appeal to my daughter's
+kindness--may I use one of these soap dishes as an ash-receiver? So I
+have come to ask whether, for the sake of our ancient name--I expect no
+childish sentimentality--whether you could help me with an additional
+sum of some fifty thousand marks annually, and ninety thousand to
+be paid at once--otherwise nothing is left for me--a light,
+please--<i>merci</i>--except to put a bullet through my head!&quot; He paused to
+light the fresh cigar. The countess clasped her hands in terror.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens, Papa! Are the sums Wildenau gave you already exhausted?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you mean--can a Prince Prankenberg live on an income of fifty
+thousand marks? If I had not been so economical, and we did not live in
+the quiet German style, I could not have managed to make such a trifle
+hold out so <i>long</i>!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A trifle! Then I was sold so cheaply?&quot; cried Madeleine Wildenau with
+passionate emotion. &quot;I have not even, in return for my wasted life, the
+consciousness of having saved my father? Yes, yes, if this is true--I
+am no longer free to choose! I shall remain to the end of my days the
+slave of my dead husband, and must steal the happiness for which
+I long like forbidden fruit. You have chosen the moment for this
+communication well--it must be true! You have destroyed the first
+blossom of my life, and now, when it would fain put forth one last bud,
+you blight that, too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince rose. &quot;I regret having caused you any embarrassment by my
+affairs. As I said, you are your own mistress. If I did not put a
+bullet through my head long ago, it was purely out of consideration for
+you, that the world might not say: 'Prince von Prankenberg shot himself
+on account of financial embarrassment because his wealthy daughter
+would not aid him!' I wished to save you this scandal--that is why I
+gave you the choice of helping me if you preferred to do so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess shuddered. &quot;You know that such threats are not needed! If
+I wept, it was not for the sake of the paltry money, but all the
+unfortunate circumstances. How can I ever be happy, even in a secret
+marriage, if I am constantly compelled to dread discovery for my
+father's sake? If it were for a father impoverished by misfortune,
+the tears shed for my sacrifice of happiness would be worthy of
+execration--but, Papa, to be compelled to sacrifice the holiest feeling
+that ever thrilled a human heart for gambling, race-courses, and the
+women of doubtful reputation who consume your property--that is hard
+indeed!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Spare your words, <i>ma fille</i>, I am not disposed to purchase your help
+at the cost of a lecture. Either you will relieve me from my
+embarrassments without reproaches, or you will be the daughter of a
+suicide--what is the use of all this philosophizing? A lofty unsullied
+name is a costly article! Make your choice. <i>I</i> for my own part set
+little value on life. I am old, a victim to the gout, have grown too
+stiff to ride or enjoy sport of any kind, have lost my luck with
+women--there is nothing left but gambling. If I must give that
+up, too, then <i>rogue la galère</i>! In such a case, there are but two
+paths--<i>corriger la fortune</i>--or die. But a Prankenberg would rather
+die &amp;an to take the former.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Father! What are you saying! Alas, that matters have gone so far! Woe
+betide a society that dismisses an old man from its round of pleasures
+so bankrupt in every object, every dignity, that no alternative remains
+save suicide or cheating at the gaming-table--unless he happens, by
+chance, to have a wealthy daughter!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My beloved child!&quot; said the prince, who now found it advisable to
+adopt a tone of pathos.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pray, say no more, Father. You have never troubled yourself about your
+daughter, have never been a father to me--if you had, you would not now
+stand before me so miserable, so poor in happiness. This is past
+change. Alas, that I cannot love and respect my father as I ought--that
+I cannot do what I am about to do more gladly. Yet I am none the less
+ready to fulfill my duties towards you. So far as lies in my power, I
+will afford you the possibility of continuing your pitiful life of
+shams, and leave it to your discretion how far you draw upon my income.
+It is fortunate that you came in time--in a few days it might have been
+too late. I see now that I must not give up my large income so long as
+my father needs the money. My dreams of a late, but pure happiness are
+shattered! You will understand that one needs time to recover from such
+a blow and pardon my painful excitement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She rose, with pallid face and trembling limbs: &quot;I will place the
+papers necessary to raise the money in your hands early to-morrow
+morning, and you will forget this painful scene sooner than I.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have paid me few compliments--but I shall bear no malice--you are
+nervous to-day, my fair daughter. And even if you do not bestow your
+aid in the most generous way, nevertheless you help me. Let me kiss
+your liberal hand! Ah, it is exactly like your mother's. When I think
+that those slender, delicate fingers have been laid in the coarse fist
+of Heaven knows what plebeian, I think great credit is due me--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not go on!&quot; interrupted the countess, imperiously. &quot;I think I have
+done my duty, Papa--but the measure is full, and I earnestly entreat
+you to let me rest to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is the fate of fathers to let their daughters rule them,&quot; replied
+the prince in a jesting tone. &quot;Well, it is better to be ill-treated by
+a daughter than by a sweetheart. You see I, too, have some moral
+impulses, since I have been in your strict society. May the father whom
+you judge so harshly be permitted to kiss your forehead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess silently submitted--but a shudder ran through her frame as
+if the touch had defiled her. She felt that it was the Judas kiss of
+the world, not the caress of a father.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince wiped his mouth with a sensation of secret disgust. &quot;Who
+knows what lips have touched that brow today?&quot; He dared not think of
+it, or it would make him ill.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Ma chère</i>, however deeply I am indebted to you, I must assert my
+paternal rights a few minutes. You have said so many bitter things,
+whose justice I will not deny, that you will permit me to utter a few
+truthful words also.&quot; Fixing his eyes upon her with a stern, cold gaze,
+he said in a low tone, placing a marked emphasis on every word: &quot;We
+have carried matters very far--you and I--the last of the ancient
+Prankenberg race! A pretty pair! the father a bankrupt, and the
+daughter--on the eve of marrying a peasant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau, deadly pale, stood leaning with compressed lips
+on the back of her armchair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince laid his hand on her shoulder. &quot;We may both say that to-day
+<i>each</i> has saved the <i>other</i>! This is my reparation for the
+humiliating
+role fate has forced upon me in your presence. Am I not right?
+Good-night, my queenly daughter--and I hope you bear me no ill-will.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>PRISONED</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince had left the room, and she heard him walk through
+the
+work-shop. Silence fell upon the house and the street. The tortured
+woman, utterly exhausted, sank upon her bed--her feet would support her
+no longer. But she could get no rest; an indescribable grief filled her
+heart. Everything had happened precisely as Freyer had predicted.
+Before the cock crowed, she had thrice betrayed him, betrayed him in
+the very hour when she had sworn fidelity. At the first step she was to
+take on the road of life with the man she loved, at the first glance
+from the basilisk eyes of conventional prejudice, she shrank back like
+a coward and could not make up her mind to acknowledge him. This was
+her purification, this the effect of a feeling which, as she believed,
+had power to conquer the world? Everything was false--she despaired of
+all things--of her future, of herself, of the power of Christianity,
+which she, like all new converts, expected would have the might to
+transform sinners into saints in a single moment. One thing alone
+remained unchanged, <i>one</i> image only was untouched by any tinge of
+baseness amid the turmoil of emotions seething in her heart--Freyer. He
+alone could save her--she must go to him. Springing from her bed she
+hurried into the work-shop. &quot;Where is your son?&quot; she asked Andreas
+Gross, who was just preparing to retire.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I suppose he is in his room, Countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Bring him to me at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, Countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Shall I undress Your Highness?&quot; asked Josepha, who was still waiting
+for her orders.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau's eyes rested on the girl with a searching
+expression, as if she saw her now for the first time. Was she
+faithful--as faithful as a maid must be to make it possible to carry
+out the plan her father had suggested? Josepha gazed steadily into the
+countess' eyes, her frank face expressed nothing but innocent wonder
+at so long a scrutiny. &quot;Yes--you are faithful,&quot; said the countess at
+last--&quot;are you not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, Countess,&quot; replied the girl, evidently surprised that she
+needed to give the assurance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You know what unhappiness means?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I think so!&quot; said Josepha, with bitter emphasis.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then you would aid the unhappy so far as you were able?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It would depend upon who it was,&quot; answered Josepha, brusquely, but the
+rudeness pleased the countess; it was a proof of character, and
+character is a guarantee of trustworthiness. &quot;If it were I, Josepha,
+could I depend upon you in <i>any</i> situation?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly!&quot; the girl answered simply--&quot;I live only for you--otherwise
+I would far rather be under the sod. What have I to live for except
+you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I believe, Josepha, that I now know the reason Providence sent me to
+you!&quot; murmured her mistress, lost in thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross entered. &quot;Did you wish to see me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau silently took his hand and drew him into her
+room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Ludwig, what things I have been compelled to hear--what sins I
+have committed--what suffering I have endured!&quot; She laid her arm on the
+shoulder of the faithful friend, like a child pleading for aid. &quot;What
+time is it, Ludwig?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know,&quot; he replied. &quot;I was asleep when my father called me. I
+wandered about looking for you and Freyer until about an hour ago. Then
+weariness overpowered me.&quot; He drew out his watch. &quot;It is half past
+ten.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Take me to Freyer, Ludwig. I must see him this very day. Oh, my
+friend! let me wash myself clean in your soul, for I feel as if the
+turbid surges of the world had soiled me with their mire.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross passed his arm lightly about her shoulders as if to
+protect her from the unclean element. &quot;Come,&quot; he said soothingly, &quot;I
+will take you to Freyer. Or would you prefer to have me bring him
+here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, he would not come now. I must go to him, for I have done something
+for which I must atone--there can be no delay.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig hurriedly wrapped her in a warm shawl. &quot;You will be ill from
+this continual excitement,&quot; he said anxiously, but without trying to
+dissuade her. &quot;Take my arm, you are tottering.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They left the house before the eyes of the astonished Gross family.
+&quot;She is a very singular woman,&quot; said Sephi, shaking her head. &quot;She
+gives herself no rest night or day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was only five days since the evening that Madeleine von Wildenau had
+walked, as now, through the sleeping village, and how much she had
+experienced.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had found the God whom she was seeking--she had gazed into his
+eyes, she had recognized divine, eternal love, and had perceived that
+she was not worthy of it. So she moved proudly, yet humbly on, leaning
+upon the arm of her friend, to the street where a thrill of reverence
+had stirred her whole being when Andreas Gross said, &quot;That is the way
+to the dwelling of the Christ.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The house stood across the end of the street. This time no moonbeams
+lighted the way. The damp branches of the trees rustled mournfully
+above them in the darkness. Only a single window on the ground floor of
+Freyer's house was lighted, and the wavering rays marked the way for
+the pair. They reached it and looked in. Freyer was sitting on a wooden
+stool by the table, his head resting on his hand, absorbed in sorrowful
+thought. A book lay before him, which he had perhaps intended to read,
+but evidently had not done so, for he was gazing wearily into vacancy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau stepped softly in through the unfastened door.
+Ludwig Gross waited for her outside. As she opened the door of the room
+Freyer looked up in astonishment &quot;You?&quot; he said, and his eyes rested
+full upon her with a questioning gaze--but he rose with dignity,
+instead of rushing to meet her, as he would formerly have greeted the
+woman he loved, had she suddenly appeared before him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Countess--what does this visit mean--at this hour?&quot; he asked,
+mournfully, offering her a chair. &quot;Did you come alone?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ludwig brought me and is waiting outside for me--I have only a few
+words to say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But it will not do to leave our friend standing outside. You will
+allow me to call him in?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do so, you will then have the satisfaction of having a witness of my
+humiliation,&quot; said the countess, quietly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon me, I did not think of that interpretation!&quot; murmured Freyer,
+seating himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May I ask your Highness' commands?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Joseph--to whom are you speaking?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To the Countess Wildenau!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She knelt beside him: &quot;Joseph! Am I <i>still</i> the Countess Wildenau?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your Highness, pray spare me!&quot; he exclaimed, starting up. &quot;All this
+can alter nothing. You remain--what you are, and I--what I am! This was
+deeply graven on my heart to-night, and nothing can efface it.&quot; He
+spoke with neither anger nor reproach--simply like a man who has lost
+what was dearest to him on earth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If that is true, I can certainly do nothing except go again!&quot; she
+replied, turning toward the door. &quot;But answer for it to God for having
+thrust me forth unheard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nay, Countess, pray, speak!&quot; said Freyer, kindly. She looked
+at him so beseechingly that his heart melted with unutterable pain.
+&quot;Come--and--tell me what weighs upon your heart!&quot; he added in a gentler
+tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not until you again call me your dove--or your child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Tears filled his eyes, &quot;My child--what have you done!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is right--I can speak now! What have I done, Joseph? What you
+saw; and still worse. I not only treated you coldly and distantly in my
+father's presence, I afterwards disowned you three times--and I come to
+tell you so because you alone can and--I know--will forgive me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer had clasped his hands upon his knee and was gazing into vacancy.
+Madeleine continued: &quot;You see, I have so lofty an opinion of you, and
+of your love, that I do not try to justify myself. I will only remind
+you of the words you yourself said to-day: 'May you never be forced to
+weep the tears which Peter shed when the cock crowed for the third
+time.' I will recall what must have induced Christ to forgive Peter:
+'He knew the disciple's heart!' Joseph--do you not also know the heart
+of your Magdalena?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A tremor ran through the strong man's frame and, unable to utter a
+word, he threw his arm around her and his head drooped on her breast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Joseph, you are ignorant of the world, and the bonds with which it
+fetters even the freest souls. Therefore you must <i>believe</i> in me! It
+will often happen that I shall be forced to do something
+incomprehensible to you. If you did not then have implicit faith in me,
+we could never live happily together. This very day I had resolved to
+break with society, strip off all its chains. But no matter how many
+false and culpable ideas it has--its principles, nevertheless, rest
+upon a foundation of morality. That is why it can impose its fetters
+upon the very persons who have nothing in common with its <i>immoral</i>
+side. Nay, were it merely an <i>immoral</i> power it would be easy, in a
+moment of pious enthusiasm, to shake off its thrall--but when we are
+just on the eve of doing so, when we believe ourselves actually free,
+it throws around our feet the snare of a <i>duty</i> and we are prisoned
+anew. Such was my experience to-day with my father! I should have been
+compelled to sunder every tie, had I told him the truth! I was too weak
+to provoke the terrible catastrophe--and deferred it, by disowning
+you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer quivered with pain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She stroked his clenched hand caressingly. &quot;I know what this must be. I
+know how the proud man must rebel when the woman he loved did <i>that</i>.
+But I also expect my angel to know what it cost me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She gently tried to loose his clenched fingers, which gradually yielded
+till the open hand lay soft and unresisting in her own. &quot;Look at me,&quot;
+she continued in her sweet, melting tones: &quot;look at my pallid face, my
+eyes reddened with weeping--and then answer whether I have suffered
+during these hours?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do see it!&quot; said Freyer, gently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear husband! I come to you with my great need, with my great
+love--and my great guilt. Will you thrust me from you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He could hold out no longer, but with loving generosity clasped the
+pleading woman to his heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I knew it, you are the embodiment of goodness, gentleness--love! You
+will have patience with your weak, sinful wife--you will ennoble and
+sanctify her, and not despair if it is a long time ere the work is
+completed. You promise, do you not?&quot; she murmured fervently amid her
+kisses, breathing into his inmost life the ardent pleading of her
+remorse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And, with a solemn vow, he promised never to be angry with her again,
+never to desert her until she <i>herself</i> sent him away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had conquered--he trusted her once more. And now--she must profit
+by this childlike confidence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you!&quot; she said, after a long silence. &quot;Now I shall have
+courage to ask you a serious question. But let us send home the friend
+who is waiting outside, you can take me back yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, my child,&quot; said Freyer, smiling, and went out to seek
+Ludwig. &quot;He was satisfied,&quot; he said returning. &quot;Now speak--and tell me
+everything that weighs upon your heart--no one can hear us save God.&quot;
+And he drew her into a loving embrace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Joseph,&quot; the countess began in an embarrassed tone. &quot;The decisive hour
+has come sooner than I expected and I am compelled to ask, 'Will you be
+my husband--but only before God, not men.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer drew back a step. &quot;What do you mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you listen to me quietly, dearest?&quot; she asked, gently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Speak, my child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Joseph! I promised to-day to become your wife--and I will keep the
+pledge, but our marriage must be a secret one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My husband's will disinherits me, as soon as I give up the name of
+Wildenau. If I marry you, I shall be dependent upon the generosity of
+my husband's cousins, who succeed me as his heirs, and they are not
+even obliged to give me an annuity--so I shall be little better than a
+beggar.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, is that all? What does it matter? Am I not able to support my
+wife--that is, if she can be satisfied with the modest livelihood a
+poor wood-carver like myself can offer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, deeply touched, smiled. &quot;I knew that you would say so.
+But, my angel, that would only do, if I had no other duties. But, you
+see, this is one of the snares with which the world draws back those
+who endeavor to escape its spell. I have a father--an unhappy man whom
+I can neither respect nor love--a type of the brilliant misery, the
+hollow shams, to which so many lives in our circle fall victims, a
+gambler, a spendthrift, but still <i>my father</i>! He asks pecuniary aid
+which I can render only if I remain the Countess Wildenau. Dare I be
+happy and let my father go to ruin?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No!&quot; groaned Freyer, whose head sank like a felled tree on the arms
+which rested folded on the table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then what is left to us--my beloved, save <i>separation</i> or a secret
+marriage? Surely we would not profane the miracle which God has wrought
+in us by any other course?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No--never!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well--then I must say to you: 'choose!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Heaven! this is terrible. I must not be allowed to assert my
+sacred rights before men--must live like a dishonored man under ban?
+And <i>where</i> and <i>when</i> could we meet?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Joseph--I can offer you the position of steward of my estates, which
+will enable us to live together constantly and meet without the least
+restraint. I can recompense you a hundredfold, for what you resign
+here, my property shall be yours, as well as all that I am and
+have--you shall miss nothing save outward appearances, the triumph of
+appearing before the world as the husband of the Countess Wildenau.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! God, Thou art my witness that no such thought ever entered my
+heart. If you were poor and miserable, starving by the wayside, I would
+raise you and bear you proudly in my arms into my house. If you were
+blind and lame, ill and deserted, I would watch and cherish you day and
+night--nay, it would be my delight to work for you and earn, by my own
+industry, the bread you eat. When I brought it, I would offer it on my
+knees and kiss your dear hands for accepting it. But your servant, your
+hireling, I cannot be! Tell me yourself--could you still love me if I
+were?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, for my love is eternal!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not deceive yourself; you have loved me as a poor, but <i>free</i>
+citizen of Ammergau--as your paid servant you would despise me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You shall not be my servant--it is merely necessary to find some
+pretext before the world which will render it possible for us to be
+constantly together without exciting suspicion--and the office of a
+steward is this pretext!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Twist and turn it as you will--I shall eat your bread, and be your
+subordinate. Oh, Heaven, I was so proud and am now so terribly
+humiliated--so suddenly hurled from the height to which you had raised
+me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It will be no humiliation to accept what my love bestows and my
+superabundance shares with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It <i>is</i>, and I could be your husband only on the condition that I
+might continue to work and earn my own support.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! the envious arrogance of the poor, who grudge the rich the noblest
+privilege--that of doing good. Believe me, true pride would be to say
+to yourself that your noble nature a thousand times outweighed the
+petty sacrifice of worldly goods which I could make for you. He who
+scorns money can accept it from others because he knows that the
+outward gift is valueless, compared with the treasures of happiness
+love can offer. Or do you feel so poor in love that you could not pay
+me the trivial debt for the bit of bread I furnished? Then indeed--let
+me with my wealth languish in my dearth of happiness and boast that you
+sacrificed to your pride the most faithful of women--but do not say
+that you loved the woman!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My dove!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am doing what I can!&quot; she continued, mournfully, &quot;I am offering you
+myself, my soul, my freedom, my future--and you are considering whether
+it will not degrade you to eat my bread and be apparently my servant,
+while in reality you are my master and my judge.--I have nothing more
+to say, you shall have your will, but decide quickly, for what is to be
+done must be done at once. My father himself (when he perceived that I
+really intended to marry) advised me to be wedded by our old pastor at
+Prankenberg. But I know my father, and am aware that he was only luring
+me into a trap. He will receive from me to-morrow a power of attorney
+to raise some money he needs--the day after he will invent some new
+device to keep me in his power. We must take the pastor at Prankenberg
+by surprise before he can prevent it. Now decide!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Omnipotent God!&quot; exclaimed Freyer. &quot;What shall I, what must I do? Oh!
+my love, I ought not to desert you--and even if I ought--I <i>could</i> not,
+for I could no longer live without you! You know that I must take what
+you offer, and that my fate will be what you assign! But, dearest, how
+I shall endure to be your husband and yet regarded as your servant, I
+know not. If you could let this cup pass from me, it would be far
+better for us both.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And did God spare the Saviour the cup? Was Christ too proud to take
+upon Him His cross and His ignominy, while you--cannot even bear the
+yoke your wife imposes, is <i>forced</i> to impose?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He bowed his head to the earth. Tears sparkled in his radiant eyes, he
+was once more the Christ. As his dark eyes rested upon her in the dim
+light diffused by the lamp, with all the anguish of the Crucified
+Redeemer, Madeleine von Wildenau again felt a thrill of awe in the
+presence of something supernatural--a creature belonging to some middle
+realm, half spirit, half mortal--and the perception that he could never
+belong wholly to the earth, never wholly to <i>her</i>. She could not
+explain this feeling, he was so kind, so self-sacrificing. Had she had
+any idea that such a man was destined to absorb <i>us</i>, not we <i>him</i>,
+the
+mystery would have been solved. What she was doing was precisely the
+reverse. His existence must be sacrificed to hers--and she had a vague
+suspicion that this was contrary to the laws of his noble, privileged
+nature.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But he, unconscious of himself, in his modest simplicity, only knew
+that he must love the countess to the end--and deemed it only just that
+he should purchase the measureless happiness of calling this woman his
+by an equally boundless sacrifice. The appeal to Christ had suddenly
+made him believe that God proposed to give him the opportunity to
+continue in life the part of a martyr which he was no longer permitted
+to play on the stage. The terrible humiliation imposed by the woman
+whom he loved was to be the cross received in exchange for the one he
+had resigned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, then, for the sake of Christ's humility!&quot; he said, sadly,
+as if utterly crushed. &quot;Give me whatever position you choose, but I
+fear you will discover too late that you have robbed yourself of the
+<i>best</i> love I have to bestow. Your nature is not one which can love a
+vassal. You will be like the children who tear off the butterfly's
+wings and then--throw aside the crawling worm with loathing. My wings
+were my moral freedom and my self-respect. At this moment I have lost
+them, for I am only a weak, love-sick man who must do whatever an
+irresistible woman requires. It is no free moral act, as is usual when
+a man exchanges an equal existence with his chosen wife.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you think <i>that</i>, Joseph,&quot; said the countess, turning pale, &quot;it
+will certainly be better--for me to leave you.&quot; She turned with dignity
+toward the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, go!&quot; he cried in wild anguish--&quot;go! Yet you know that you will
+take me with you, like the crown of thorns you dragged caught in the
+hem of your dress!&quot; He threw himself on his knees at her feet. &quot;What am
+I? Your slave. In Heaven's name, be my mistress and take me. I place my
+soul in your keeping--I trust it to your generosity--but woe betide us
+both, if you do not give me yours in return. I ask nothing save your
+soul--but that I want wholly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The exultant woman clasped him in a passionate embrace: &quot;Yes, give
+yourself a prisoner to me, and trust your fate to my hands. I will be a
+gentle mistress to you--you, beloved slave, you shall not be <i>more</i>
+mine than I am yours--that is, <i>wholly</i> and <i>forever</i>.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>FLYING FROM THE CROSS</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster went to the office every morning at six
+o'clock, for
+the work to be accomplished during the day was very great and required
+an early beginning. Freyer usually arrived about seven to share the
+task with him. On Fridays, however, he often commenced his labor before
+the energetic burgomaster. It was on that day that the rush upon the
+ticket office began, and every one's hands were filled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But to-day Freyer seemed to be in no hurry. It was after seven--he
+ought to have arrived long before. He had been absent yesterday, too.
+The stranger must have taken complete possession of him. The
+burgomaster shook his head--Freyer's conduct since the countess'
+arrival, had not pleased him. He had never neglected his duties
+to the community. And at the very time when the Passion Play had
+attained unprecedented success. How could any one think of anything
+else--anything <i>personal</i>, especially the man who took the part of the
+Christ! There were heaps of orders lying piled before him, how could
+they be disposed of, if Freyer did not help.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This countess was a beautiful woman--and probably a fascinating one.
+But to the burgomaster there was but <i>one</i> beauty--that of the angel of
+his home. High above the turmoil of the crowd, in quiet, aristocratic
+seclusion, the lonely man sat at his desk in his bare, plain office.
+But the angel of Ammergau visited him here; he leaned his weary head
+upon His breast, <i>His</i> kiss rewarded his unselfish labor, <i>His</i>
+radiance illumined the unassuming citizen. No house was so poor and
+insignificant that at this season the angel of Ammergau did not take up
+His abode within and shed upon it His own sanctity and dignity. But to
+him who was the personification of Ammergau, the man who was obliged to
+care for everything--watch over everything--bear the responsibility
+of everything, to him the angel brought the reward which men cannot
+give--the proud consciousness of what he was to his home in these
+toilsome days. But it was quite time that Freyer should come! The
+burgomaster rang his bell. The bailiff entered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Kleinhofer, see where Herr Freyer is--or the drawing-master. <i>One</i> of
+them can surely be found.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Herr Burgomaster.&quot; The man left the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster leaned back in his chair to wait. His eyes rested a few
+seconds on one of Doré's pictures, Christ condemned by Pontius Pilate.
+He involuntarily compared the engraving with the grouping on the stage.
+&quot;Ah, if we could do that! If living beings, with massive bones and
+clumsy joints, would be as pliable as canvas and brushes!&quot; he thought,
+sorrowfully. &quot;Wherever human beings are employed there must be defects
+and imperfections. Perfection, absolute beauty, exist only in the
+imagination! Yet ought not an inflexible stage manager, by following
+the lines of the work of art, to succeed in shaping even the rudest
+material into the artistic idea.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Much--much remains to be done,&quot; said the singular stage manager in
+pitiless self-criticism, resting his head on his hand. &quot;When one thinks
+of what the Meininger company accomplishes! But of course they work
+with <i>artists</i>--I with natural talent! Then we are restricted in
+alloting the parts by dilettante traditional models--and, worst of all,
+by antiquated statutes and prejudices.&quot; The vision of Josepha Freyer
+rose before him, he keenly felt the blow inflicted on the Passion Play
+when the beautiful girl, the very type of Mary Magdalene, was excluded.
+&quot;The whole must suffer under such circumstances! The actors cannot be
+chosen according to talent and individuality; these things are a
+secondary consideration. The first is the person's standing in the
+community! A poor servant would be allowed to play only an inferior
+part, even if he possessed the greatest talent, and the principal ones
+are the monopoly of the influential citizens. From a contingent thus
+arbitrarily limited the manager is compelled to distribute the
+characters for the great work, which demands the highest powers. It is
+a gigantic labor, but it will be accomplished, nothing is needed save
+patience and an iron will! They will grow with their task. The
+increasing success of the Passion Play will teach them to understand
+how important it is that artistic interests should supersede all
+others. Then golden hours will first dawn on Ammergau. May God permit
+me to witness it!&quot; he added. And he confidently hoped to do so; for
+there was no lack of talent, and with a few additions great results
+might be accomplished. This year the success of the Play was secured by
+Freyer, who made the audience forget all less skilful performers. With
+him the Passion Play of the present year would stand or fall. The
+burgomaster's eyes rested with a look of compassion upon the Christ of
+Doré and the Christ personated by Freyer, as it hovered before his
+memory--and Freyer bore the test. He had come from the hand of his
+Creator a living work of art, perfect in every detail. &quot;Thank Heaven
+that we have him!&quot; murmured the burgomaster, with a nod of
+satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some one knocked at the door. &quot;At last,&quot; said the burgomaster: &quot;Come
+in!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was not the person whom he expected, but Ludwig Gross!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He tottered forward as if his feet refused to obey his will. His grave
+face was waxen-yellow in its hue and deeply lined--his lips were
+tightly compressed--drops of perspiration glittered on his brow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster glanced at him in alarm: &quot;What is it? What has
+happened?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross drew a letter from his pocket, &quot;Be prepared for bad news.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For Heaven's sake, cannot the performance take place? We have sold
+more than a thousand tickets.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That would be the least difficulty. Be strong, Herr Burgomaster--I
+have a great misfortune to announce.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has it anything to do with Freyer?&quot; exclaimed the magistrate, with
+sudden foreboding.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer has gone--with Countess Wildenau!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Run away?&quot; cried the burgomaster, inexorably giving the act the right
+name.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I have just found these lines on his table.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster turned pale as if he had received a mortal wound. A
+peal of thunder seemed to echo in his ears--the thunder which had
+shattered the temple of Jerusalem, whose priest he was! The walls fell,
+the veil was rent and revealed the place of execution. Golgotha lay
+before him. He heard the rustling wings of the departing guardian angel
+of Ammergau. High above, in terrible solitude, towered the cross, but
+it was empty--he who should hang upon it--had vanished! Grey clouds
+gathered around the desolate scene.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But from the empty cross issued a light--not a halo, but like the
+livid, phosphorescent glimmer of rotten wood! It shone into a chasm
+where, from a jutting rock, towered a single tree, upon which hung,
+faithful to his task--Judas!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A peal of jeering laughter rose from the depths. &quot;You have killed
+yourself in vain. Your victim has escaped. See the conscientious Judas,
+who hung himself, while the other is having a life of pleasure!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Shame and disgrace! &quot;The Christ has fled from the cross.&quot; Malicious
+voices echo far and wide, cynicism exults--baseness has conquered, the
+divine has become a laughing-stock for children--the Passion Play a
+travesty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The phosphorescent wood of the cross glimmered before the burgomaster's
+eyes. Aye, it was rotten and mouldering--this cross--it must
+crumble--the corruption of the world had infected and undermined it,
+and this had happened in Oberammergau--under <i>his</i> management.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The unfortunate man, through whose brain this chain of thoughts was
+whirling, sat like a stone statue before his friend, who stood waiting
+modestly, without disturbing his grief by a single word.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What the two men felt--each knew--was too great for utterance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster was mechanically holding Freyer's letter in his
+clenched hand. Now his cold, stiff fingers reminded him of it. He laid
+it on the table, his eyes resting dully on the large childish
+characters of the unformed hand: &quot;Forgive me!&quot; ran the brief contents.
+&quot;I am no longer worthy to personate the Saviour! Not from lack of
+principle, but on account of it do I resign my part. Ere you read these
+lines, I shall be far away from here! God will not make His sacred
+cause depend upon any individual--He will supply my place to you!
+Forget me, and forgive the renegade whose heart will be faithful to you
+unto death! <span style="letter-spacing:30px">&nbsp; &nbsp;</span><span class="sc">Freyer</span>!&quot;
+
+<p class="normal">Postscript:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Sell my property--the house, the field, and patch of woods which was
+not burned and divide the proceeds among the poor of Ammergau. I will
+send you the legal authority from the nearest city.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Once more, farewell to all!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster sat motionless, gazing at the sheet. He could have read
+it ten times over--yet he still stared at the lines.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross saw with terror that his eyes were glassy, his features
+changed. The calmness imposed by the iron will had become the rigidity
+of death. The drawing-master shook him--now, in the altered position,
+the inert body lost its balance and fell against the back of the chair.
+His friend caught the tottering figure and supported the noble head. It
+was possible for him to reach the bell with his other hand and summon
+Kleinhofer. &quot;The doctor--quick--tell him to come at once!&quot; he shouted.
+The man hurried off in terror.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The news that the burgomaster had been stricken with apoplexy ran
+through the village like wild fire. Every one rushed to the office. The
+physician ran bare-headed across the street. The confusion was
+boundless.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig could scarcely control the tumult. Supporting the burgomaster
+with one arm, he pushed the throng back with the other. The doctor
+could scarcely force his way through the crowded room. He rubbed the
+temples and arteries of the senseless man. &quot;I don't think it is
+apoplexy, only a severe congestion of the brain,&quot; he said, &quot;but we
+cannot tell what the result may be. He has long been overworked and
+over-excited.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The remedies applied began to act, the burgomaster opened his eyes. But
+as if he were surrounded by invisible fiends which, like wild beasts,
+were only held in check by the firm gaze of the tamer and, ever ready
+to spring, were only watching for the moment when they might wrest from
+him the sacred treasure confided to his care--his dim eyes in a few
+seconds regained the steady flash of the watchful, imperious master.
+And the discipline which his unyielding will was wont to exert over his
+limbs instantly restored his erect bearing. No one save the physician
+and Ludwig knew what the effort cost him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; said the doctor in a low tone to the drawing-master: &quot;This is
+the consequence of his never granting himself any rest during these
+terrible exertions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster had gone to the window and obtained a little air. Then
+he turned to the by-standers. His voice still trembled slightly, but
+otherwise not the slightest weakness was perceptible, and nothing
+betrayed the least emotion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am glad, my friends, that we are all assembled--otherwise I should
+have been compelled to summon you. Is the whole parish here? We must
+hold a consultation at once. Kleinhofer, count them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man obeyed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They are all here,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At that moment the burgomaster's wife rushed in with Anastasia. They
+had been in the fields and had just learned the startling news of the
+illness of the husband and brother.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pray be calm!&quot; he said, sternly. &quot;There is nothing wrong with
+me--nothing worth mentioning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The weeping women were surrounded by their friends but the burgomaster,
+with an imperious wave of the hand, motioned them to the back of the
+room. &quot;If you wish to listen--and it is my desire that you should--keep
+quiet. We have not a moment to lose.&quot; He turned to the men of the
+parish.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear friends and companions! I have tidings which I should never have
+expected a native of Ammergau would be compelled to relate of a fellow
+citizen. A great misfortune has befallen us. We no longer have a
+Christ! Freyer has suddenly gone away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A cry of horror and indignation answered him. A medley of shouts and
+questions followed, mingled with fierce imprecations.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Be calm, friends. Do not revile him. We do not know what has occurred.
+True, I cannot understand how such a thing was possible--but we must
+not judge where we know no particulars. At any rate we will respect
+ourselves by speaking no evil of one of our fellow citizens--for that he
+was, in spite of his act.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig secretly pressed his hand in token of gratitude.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This misfortune is sent by God&quot;--the burgomaster continued--&quot;we will
+not judge the poor mortal who was merely His tool. Regard him as one
+dead, as he seems to regard himself. He has bequeathed his property to
+our poor--we will thank him for that, as is right--in other respects he
+is dead to us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster took the letter from the table. &quot;Here is his last will
+for Ammergau, I will read it to you.&quot; The burgomaster calmly read the
+paper, but it seemed as if his voice, usually so firm, trembled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When he had finished, deep silence reigned. Many were wiping their
+eyes, others gazed sullenly into vacancy--a solemn hush, like that
+which prevails at a funeral, had taken possession of the assembly. &quot;We
+cannot tell,&quot; the burgomaster repeated: &quot;Peace to his ashes--for the
+fire which will be so destructive to us is still blazing in him. We can
+but say, may God forgive him, and let these be the last words uttered
+concerning him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May God forgive him!&quot; murmured the sorely stricken assemblage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Amen!&quot; replied the burgomaster. &quot;And now, my friends, let us consult
+what is to be done. We cannot deceive ourselves concerning our
+situation. It is critical, nay hopeless. The first thing we must try to
+save is our honor. When it becomes known that one of our number, and
+that one the Christ--has deserted his colors, or rather the cross, we
+shall be disgraced and our sacred cause must suffer. <i>Our</i> honor here
+is synonymous with the honor of God, and if we do not guard it for
+ourselves we must for His sake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A murmur of assent answered him. He continued: &quot;Therefore we must make
+every effort to keep the matter secret. We can say that Freyer had
+suddenly succumbed to the exertion imposed by his part, and to save his
+life had been obliged to seek a warmer climate! Those who <i>know</i> us men
+of Ammergau will not believe that any one would retire on account of
+his health, nay would prefer death rather than to interrupt the
+performances--but there are few who do know us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;God knows that!&quot; said the listeners, mournfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Therefore I propose that we all promise to maintain the most absolute
+secrecy in regard to the real state of affairs and give the pretext
+just suggested to the public.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes--we will agree not to say anything else,&quot; the men readily
+assented. &quot;But the women--they will chatter,&quot; said Andreas Gross.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is just what I fear. I can rely upon you men,&quot; replied the
+burgomaster, casting a stern glance at the girls and women. &quot;The men
+are fully aware of the meaning and importance of our cause. It is bad
+enough that so many are not understood and supported by their wives!
+You--the women of Ammergau--alas that I must say it--you have done the
+place and the cause more harm by your gossip than you can answer for to
+the God who honors us with His holy mission. There is chattering and
+tattling where you think you can do so unpunished, and many things are
+whispered into the ears of the visitors which afterwards goes as false
+rumors through the world! You care nothing for the great cause, if you
+get an opportunity to gratify some bit of petty malice. Now you are
+weeping, are you not? Because we are ruined--the performances must
+cease! But are you sure that Joseph Freyer would have been capable of
+treating us in this way, had it not been for the flood of gossip you
+poured out on him and his cousin, Josepha? It embittered his mind
+against us and drove him into the stranger's arms. Has he not said a
+hundred times that, if it were not for personating the Christ, he would
+have left Ammergau long ago? Where <i>one</i> bond is destroyed another
+tears all the more easily. Take it as a lesson--and keep silence <i>this</i>
+time at least, if you can govern your feminine weakness so far! I shall
+make your husbands accountable for every word which escapes concerning
+this matter.&quot; Several of the women murmured and cast spiteful glances
+at the burgomaster.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To <i>whom</i> does this refer, <i>who</i> is said to have tattled?&quot; asked a
+stout woman with a bold face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster frowned. &quot;It refers to those who feel guilty--and does
+not concern those who do not!&quot; he cried, sternly. &quot;The good silent
+women among you know very well that I do not mean them--and the others
+can take heed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A painful pause followed. The burgomaster's eyes rested threateningly
+upon the angry faces of the culprits. Those who felt that they were
+innocent gazed at him undisturbed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will answer for my wife&quot;--&quot;Nothing shall go from my house!&quot;
+protested one after another, and thus at least every effort would be
+made to save the honor of Ammergau, and conceal their disgrace from the
+world. But now came the question how to save the Play. A warm debate
+followed. The people, thus robbed of their hopes, wished to continue
+the performances at any cost, with any cast of characters. But here
+they encountered the resolute opposition of the burgomaster: &quot;Either
+well--or not at all!&quot; was his ultimatum. &quot;We cannot deceive ourselves
+for a moment. At present, there is not one of us who can personate the
+Christ--except Thomas Rendner, and where, in that case, could we find a
+Pilate--who could replace Thomas Rendner?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a violent discussion. &quot;The sacristan, Nathanael, could play
+Pilate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who then would take Nathanael?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, if this one and that one were still in the village! But they had
+gone away to seek their bread, like so many who could no longer earn a
+support since the Partenkirch School of Carving had competed with the
+one in Ammergau. And many more would follow. If things went on in the
+same fashion, and matters were not improved by the play, in ten years
+more there might be none to fill the parts, necessity would gradually
+drive every one away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, we are in a sore strait, my friends. The company melts away more
+and more--the danger to the Passion Play constantly increases. If we
+can find no help now, penury will deprive us of some of our best
+performers ere the next time. And yet, my friends, believe me--I
+say it with a heavy heart: if we now continue with a poor cast of
+characters--we shall be lost wholly and forever, for then we shall have
+destroyed the reputation of the Passion Play.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thomas Rendner will personate the Christ well--there is no danger on
+that score.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And if he does--if Rendner takes the Christ, the sacristan Pilate, and
+some one else Nathanael--shall we not be obliged to study the whole
+piece again, and can that be done so rapidly? Can we commence our
+rehearsals afresh now? I ask you, is it possible?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The people hung their heads in hopeless discouragement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Our sole resource would be to find a Christ among those who are not in
+the Play--and all who have talent are already employed. The others
+cannot be used, if we desire to present an artistic whole.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Despair seized upon the listeners--there was not a single one among
+them who had not invested his little all in furniture and beds for the
+strangers, and even incurred debts for the purpose, to say nothing of
+the universal poverty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">New proposals were made, all of which the hapless burgomaster was
+compelled to reject.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The general welfare is at a stake, and the burgomaster thinks only of
+the <i>artistic whole</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With these words the wrath of the assembly was finally all directed
+against him, and those who fanned it were mainly the strangers
+attracted by the Passion Play for purposes of speculation, who cared
+nothing how much it suffered in future, if only they made their money!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know the elements which are stirring up strife here,&quot; said the
+burgomaster, scanning the assembly with his stern eyes. &quot;But they shall
+not succeed in separating us old citizens of Ammergau, who have held
+together through every calamity! Friends, let the spirit which our
+forefathers have preserved for centuries save us from discord--let us
+not deny the good old Ammergau nature in misfortune.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And with the good old nature you can starve,&quot; muttered the
+speculators.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If the burgomaster does not consider your interests of more importance
+than the fame of his success as stage manager he ought to go to Munich
+and get the position--there he could give as many model performances as
+he desired!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; cried another, &quot;he is sacrificing our interests to his own
+vanity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">During this accusation the burgomaster remained standing with his
+figure drawn up to its full height. Only the dark swollen vein on his
+weary brow betrayed the indignation seething in his soul.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I disdain to make any reply to such a charge. I know the hearts of my
+fellow citizens too well to fear that any one of them believes it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, certainly not!&quot; exclaimed the wiser ones. But the majority were
+silent in their wrathful despair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know that many of you misjudge me, and I bear you no resentment for
+it. I admit that in such a period of storm and stress it is difficult
+to maintain an unprejudiced judgment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know also that I myself have often bewildered your judgment, for it
+is impossible to create such a work without giving offense here and
+there. I know that many who feel wounded and slighted secretly resent
+it, and I do not blame them! Only I beg you to visit the rancor on me
+<i>personally</i>--not extend it to the cause and injure that out of
+opposition to me. In important moments like these, I beg you to let all
+private grudges drop and gather around me--in this one decisive hour
+think only of the whole community, and not of all the wrongs the
+burgomaster may have done you individually.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I had only the interest of Ammergau to guard, all would be well!
+But I have not only <i>your</i> welfare to protect, but the dignity of a
+cause for which I am responsible to <i>God</i>--so long as it remains in my
+hands. Human nature is weak and subject to external impressions. The
+religious conceptions of thousands depend upon the greater or less
+powerful illusion produced by the Passion Play as a moral symbol. This
+is a heavy responsibility in a time when negation and materialism are
+constantly undermining faith and dragging everything sacred in the
+dust. In such a period, the utmost perfection of detail is necessary,
+that the <i>form</i> at least may command respect, where the <i>essence</i> is
+despised. I will try to make this dear to you by an example. The cynic
+who sneers at our worship of Mary and, with satirical satisfaction,
+paints the Virgin as the corpulent mother of four or five boys, will
+laugh at an Altötting Virgin but grow silent and earnest before a
+Sistine Madonna! For here the divinity in which he does not wish to
+believe confronts him in the work of art and compels his reverence. It
+is precisely in a period of materialism like the present that religious
+representation has its most grateful task--for the deeper man sinks
+into sensualism, the more accessible he is to sensual impressions, and
+the more easily religion can influence him through visible forms,
+repelling or attracting according to the defective or artistic
+treatment of the material. The religious-sensuous impetus is the only
+one which can influence times like these, that is why the Passion Play
+is more important now than ever!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;God has bestowed upon me the modest talent of organization and a
+little artistic culture, that I may watch over it, and see that those
+who come to us trustfully to seek their God, do not go away with
+a secret disappointment--and that those who come to <i>laugh</i> may be
+quiet--and ashamed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This is the great task allotted to me, which I have hitherto executed
+without regard for personal irritability, and the injury of petty
+individual interests, and hope to accomplish even under stress of the
+most dire necessity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you wish to oppose it, you should have given the office I occupy to
+some one who thinks the task less lofty, and who is complaisant enough
+to sacrifice the noble to the petty. But see where you will end with
+the complaisant man, who listens to every one. See how soon anarchy
+will enter among you, for where individual guidance is lacking, and
+every one can assert his will, the seed of discord shoots up,
+overgrowing everything. Now you are all against <i>me</i>, but then you will
+be against <i>one another</i>, and while you are quarreling and disputing,
+time will pass unused, and at last the first antiquated model will be
+seized because it can be most easily and quickly executed. But the
+modern world will turn away with a derisive laugh, saying: 'We can't
+look at these peasant farces any more.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then answer for robbing thousands of a beautiful illusion and letting
+them return home poorer in faith and reverence than they came--answer
+for it to God, whose sublime task you have degraded by an inferior
+performance, and lastly to yourselves for forgetting the future in the
+present gain, and to profit by the Passion Play a few more times now,
+ruin it for future decades. You do not believe it because, in this
+secluded village, you cannot know what the taste of our times demands.
+But I do, for I have lived in the outside world, and I tell you that
+whoever sees these incomplete performances will certainly not return,
+and will make us a reputation stamping us as bunglers forever!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster pressed his hand to his head; a keen pang was piercing
+his brain--and his heart also.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have nothing more to add,&quot; he concluded, faintly. &quot;But if you know
+any one whom you believe could care for Ammergau better than I--I am
+ready at any moment to place my office in his hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then, with one accord, every heart swelled with the old lofty feeling
+for the sacred cause of their ancestors and grateful appreciation of
+the man who had again roused it in them. No, he did not deserve that
+they should doubt him--he had again taught them to think like true
+natives of Ammergau, aye, they felt proudly that he was of the true
+stock--it was Ammergau blood that flowed in his veins and streamed from
+the wounds which had been inflicted on his heart that day! They saw
+that they had wronged him and they gathered with their old love and
+loyalty around the sorely-beset man, ready to atone with their lives,
+for these hot-blooded, easily influenced artist-natures were
+nevertheless true to the core.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The malcontents were forced to keep silence, no one listened to
+them. All flocked around the burgomaster. &quot;We will stand by you.
+Burgomaster--only tell us what we are to do--and how we can help
+ourselves. We rely wholly upon you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas! my friends, I must reward your restored confidence with
+unpalatable counsel. Let us bear the misfortune like men! It is
+better to fell trees in the forest, go out as day laborers--nay,
+<i>starve</i>--rather than be faithless to the spirit of our ancestors! Am I
+not right?&quot; A storm of enthusiasm answered him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was resolved to announce the close of the Passion Play for this
+decade. The document was signed by all the members of the community.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So it is ended for this year! For many of us perhaps for this life!&quot;
+said the burgomaster. &quot;I thank all who have taken part in the Play up
+to this time. I will report the receipts and expenditures within a few
+days. In consideration of the painful cause, we will dispense with any
+formal close.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A very different mood from the former one now took possession of the
+assembly. All anxiety concerning material things vanished in the
+presence of a deeper sorrow. It was the great, mysterious grief of
+parting, which seized all who had to do anything connected with the
+&quot;Passion.&quot; It seemed as if the roots of their hearts had become
+completely interwoven with it and must draw blood in being torn away,
+as if a part of their lives went with it. The old men felt the pang
+most keenly. &quot;For the last time for this life!&quot; are words before whose
+dark portal we stand hesitating, be it where it may--but if this &quot;for
+the last time&quot; concerns the highest and dearest thing we possess on
+earth, they contain a fathomless gulf of sadness! Old Barabbas, the man
+of ninety, was the first, to express it--the others joined in and the
+greybeards who had been young together and devoted their whole lives to
+the cause which to them was the highest in the world, sank into one
+another's arms, like a body of men condemned to death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then one chanted the closing line of the choragus: &quot;Till in the world
+beyond we meet&quot;--and all joined as with a <i>single</i> voice, the
+unutterable anguish of resigning that close communion with Deity, in
+which every one of them lived during this period, created its own
+ceremonial of farewell and found apt expression in those last words of
+the Passion Play.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then they shook hands with one another, exchanging a life-long
+farewell. They knew that they should meet again the next day--in the
+same garments--but no longer what they now were, Roman governor and
+high-priests, apostles and saints. They were excluded from the
+companionship of the Lord, for their Christ had not risen as usual--he
+had fled and faithlessly deserted his flock, ere their task could be
+fulfilled. It was doubly hard!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Old Judas, the venerable Lechner, was so much moved that they were
+obliged to support him down the stairs: Judas weeping over Christ! The
+loyal man had suffered unutterably from the necessity of playing the
+traitor's part--the treachery now practised toward the sacred cause by
+the personator of Christ himself--fairly broke his heart! &quot;That I must
+live to witness this!&quot; he murmured, wringing his hands as he descended
+the steps. But Thomas Rendner shook his handsome head and mournfully
+repeated the momentous words of Pilate: &quot;What is truth?&quot; With tears in
+his eyes, he held out his sinewy right hand consolingly to Caiaphas.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't take it so much to heart, Burgomaster; God is still with us!&quot;
+Then he cast a sorrowful glance toward the corner of the room. &quot;Poor
+Mary! I always thought so!&quot; he muttered compassionately, under his
+breath, and followed the others.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster and Ludwig were left behind alone and followed
+the direction of Rendner's glance. There--it almost broke their
+hearts--there sat the burgomaster's sister--the &quot;Mary&quot; in the corner,
+with her hands clasped in her lap, the very attitude in which she
+waited for the body of her Crucified Son.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Poor sister,&quot; said the burgomaster, deeply moved. &quot;For what are you
+waiting? They will never bring him to you again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He will come back, the poor martyr!&quot; she replied, her large eyes
+gazing with prophetic earnestness into vacancy. &quot;He will come, weary
+and wounded--perhaps betrayed by all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then I will have nothing to do with him,&quot; said the burgomaster in a
+low, firm tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You can do as you please, you are a man. But I, who have so long
+personated his mother--I will wait and receive and comfort him, as a
+mother cheers her erring child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Anastasia!&quot; A cry of pain escaped Ludwig's lips, and, overwhelmed
+by emotion, he turned away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster, with tender sympathy, laid his hand upon his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, sister, Freyer is not worthy that you should love him so!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How do I love him?&quot; replied the girl. &quot;I love him as Eternal
+Compassion loves the poor and suffering. He <i>is</i> poor and suffering.
+Oh! do not think evil of him--he does not deserve it. He is good and
+noble! Believe me, a mother must know her child better,&quot; she added,
+with the smile that reveals a breaking heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She looked the drawing-master kindly in the face: &quot;Ludwig, we both
+understand him, do we not? <i>We</i> believe in him, though all condemn.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig could not speak--he merely nodded silently and pressed
+Anastasia's hand, as if in recognition of the pledge. He was undergoing
+a superhuman conflict, but, with the strength peculiar to him,
+succeeded in repressing any display of emotion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster stood mutely watching the scene, and neither of the
+three could decide which suffered most.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He gazed in speechless grief at the clasped hands of his sister and his
+friend. How often he had wished for this moment, and now--? What
+<i>parted</i> alone united them, and what united, divided.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Aye, Freyer has brought much misery upon us!&quot; he said, with sullen
+resentment. &quot;I only hope that he will never set foot again upon the
+soil of his forefathers!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Brother, how can you speak so--you do not mean it. I know that his
+heart will draw him back here; he will seek his home again, and he
+shall find it. You will not thrust him from you when he returns from
+foreign lands sorrowing and repentant. God knows how earnestly I wish
+him happiness, but I do not believe that he will possess it. And as he
+will be loyal to us in his inmost soul, we will be true to him and
+prepare a resting place when the world has nailed his heart upon the
+cross. Shall we not, Ludwig?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, by Heaven, we will!&quot; faltered Ludwig, and his tears fell on the
+beautiful head of the girl, who still sat motionless, as if she must
+wait here for the lost one.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Woman, behold thy son--son, behold thy mother!&quot; stirred the air like a
+breath.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE MARRIAGE</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">On a wooded height, hidden in the heart of the forests of the
+Bavarian
+highlands, stood an ancient hunting castle, the property of the
+Wildenau family. A steep mountain path led up to it, and at its feet,
+like a stone sea, stretched the wide, dry bed of a river, a Griess, as
+it was called in that locality. Only a few persons knew the way; to the
+careless glance the path seemed wholly impassable.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Bare, rugged cliffs towered like a wall around the hunting castle on
+its mossy height, harmonizing in melancholy fashion with the white sea
+of stone below, which formed a harsh foreground to the dreary scene.
+Ever and anon a stag emerged from the woods, crossing the Griess with
+elastic tread, the brown silhouette of its antlers sharply relieved
+against the colorless monotony of the landscape. The hind came forward
+from the opposite side, slowly, reluctantly, with nostrils vibrating.
+The report of a rifle echoed from beyond the river bed, the antlers
+drooped, the royal creature fell upon its knees, then rolled over on
+its back; its huge antlers, flung backward in the death agony, were
+thrust deep down among the loose pebbles. The hind had fled, the
+poacher seized his prey--a slender rill of blood trickled noiselessly
+through the stones, then everything was once more silent and lifeless.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the hiding-place where, for seven years, Countess Wildenau had
+hidden the treasury filched from the cross--the rock sepulchre in which
+she intended to keep the God whom the world believed dead. Built close
+against the cliff, half concealed by an overhanging precipice, the
+castle seemed to be set in a niche. Shut out from the sunshine by the
+projecting crag which cast its shadow over it even at noonday, it was
+so cold and damp that the moisture trickled down the walls of the
+building, and, moreover, was surrounded by that strange atmosphere of
+wet moss and rotting mushrooms which awakens so strange a feeling when,
+after a hot walk, we pause to rest in the cool courtyard of some ruined
+castle, where our feet sink into wet masses of mouldering brown leaves
+which for decades no busy hand has swept away. It seems as if the sun
+desired to associate with human beings. Where no mortal eyes behold its
+rays, it ceases to shine. It does not deem it worth while to penetrate
+the heaps of withered leaves, or the tangle of wild vines and bushes,
+or the veil of cobwebs and lime-dust which, in the course of time,
+accumulates in heaps in the masonry of a deserted dwelling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As we see by a child's appearance whether or not it has a loving
+mother, so the aspect of a house reveals whether or not it is dear to
+its owner, and as a neglected child drags out a joyless existence, so a
+neglected house gradually becomes cold and inhospitable.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the case with the deserted little hunting seat. No foot had
+crossed its threshold within the memory of man. What could the Countess
+Wildenau do with it? It was so remote, so far from all the paths of
+travel, so hidden in the woods that it would not even afford a fine
+view. It stood as an outpost on the chart containing the location of
+the Wildenau estates. It had never entered the owner's mind to seek it
+out in this--far less in reality.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Every year an architect was sent there to superintend the most
+necessary repairs, because it was not fitting for a Wildenau to let one
+of these family castles go to ruin. This was all that was done to
+preserve the building. The garden gradually ran to waste, and became so
+blended with the forest that the boughs of the trees beat against the
+windows of the edifice and barred out like a green hedge the last
+straggling sunbeams. A castle for a Sleeping Beauty, but without the
+sleeping princess. Then Fate willed that a blissful secret in its
+owner's breast demanded just such a hiding-place in which to dream the
+strangest fantasy ever imagined by woman since Danæ rested in the
+embrace of Jove.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau sought and found this forgotten spot in her
+chart, and, with the energy bestowed by the habit of being able to
+accomplish whatever we desire, she discovered a secret ford through the
+Griess, known only to a trustworthy old driver, and no one was aware of
+Countess Wildenau's residence when she vanished from society for days.
+There were rumors of a romantic adventure or a religious ecstacy into
+which the Ammergau Passion Play had transported her years before. She
+had set off upon her journey to the Promised Land directly after, and
+as no sea is so wide, no mountain so lofty, that gossip cannot find its
+way over them, it even made its way from the Holy Sepulchre to the
+drawing rooms of the capital.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A gentleman, an acquaintance of so-and-so, had gone to the Orient, and
+in Jerusalem, at the Holy Sepulchre, met a veiled lady, who was no
+other than Countess Wildenau. There would have been nothing specially
+remarkable in that. But at the lady's side knelt a gentleman who bore
+so remarkable a resemblance to the pictures of Christ that one might
+have believed it was the Risen Lord Himself who, dissatisfied with
+heaven, had returned repentant to His deserted resting-place.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How interesting! The imagination of society, thirsting for romance,
+naturally seized upon this bit of news with much eagerness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Who could the gentleman with the head of Christ be, save the Ammergau
+Christ? This agreed with the sudden interruption of the Passion Play
+that summer, on account of the illness of the Christ--as the people of
+Ammergau said, who perfectly understood how to keep their secrets from
+the outside world.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But as they committed the imprudence of occasionally sending their
+daughters to the city, one and another of these secrets of the
+community, more or less distorted, escaped through the dressing-rooms
+of the mistresses of these Ammergau maids.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thus here and there a flickering ray fell upon the Ammergau
+catastrophe: The Christ was not ill--he had vanished--run away--with a
+lady of high rank. What a scandal! Then lo! one day Countess Wildenau
+appeared--after a journey of three years in the east--somewhat
+absentminded, a little disposed to assume religious airs, but without
+any genuine piety. Religion is not to be obtained by an indulgence of
+religious-erotic rapture with its sweet delusions--it can be obtained
+only by the hard labor of daily self-sacrifice, of which a nature like
+Madeleine von Wildenau's has no knowledge.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So she returned, somewhat changed--yet only so far as that her own ego,
+which the world did not know, was even more potential than before.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But she came alone! Where had she left her pallid Christ? All inquiries
+were futile. What could be said? There was no proof of anything--and
+besides; proven or not--what charge would have overthrown Countess
+Wildenau? That would have been an achievement for which even her foes
+lacked perseverance?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It is very amusing when a person's moral ruin can be effected by a word
+carelessly uttered! But when the labor of producing proof is associated
+with it, people grow good-natured from sheer indolence--let the victim
+go, and seek an easier prey.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the case with the Countess Wildenau! Her position remained as
+unshaken as ever, nay the charm of her person exerted an influence even
+more potent than before. Was it her long absence, or had she grown
+younger? No matter--she had gained a touch of womanly sweetness which
+rendered her irresistible.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In what secret mine of the human heart and feeling had she garnered the
+rays which glittered in her eyes like hidden treasures on which the
+light of day falls for the first time?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When a woman conceals in her heart a secret joy men flock around her,
+with instinctive jealousy, all the more closely, they would fain
+dispute the sweet right of possession with the invisible rival. This is
+a trait of human nature. But one of the number did so consciously, not
+from a jealous instinct but with the full, intense resolve of
+unswerving fidelity--the prince! With quiet caution, and the wise
+self-control peculiar to him, he steadily pursued his aim. Not with
+professions of love; he was only too well aware that love is no weapon
+against love! On the contrary, he chose a different way, that of cold
+reason.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So long as she is aglow with love, she will be proof against any other
+feeling--she must first be cooled to the freezing-point, then the
+chilled bird can be clasped carefully to the breast and given new
+warmth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It would be long ere that point was reached--but he knew how to wait!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Meanwhile he drew the Countess into a whirl of the most fascinating
+amusements.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">No word, no look betrayed the still hopeful lover! With the manner of
+one who had relinquished all claims, but was too thoroughly a man of
+the world to avoid an interesting woman because he had failed to win
+her heart, he again sought her society after her return. Had he
+betrayed the slightest sign of emotion, he would have been repulsive
+in her present mood. But the perfect frankness and unconcern with which
+he played the &quot;old friend&quot; and nothing more, made his presence a
+comfort, nay even a necessity of life! So he became her inseparable
+companion--her shadow, and by the influence of his high position
+stifled every breath of slander, which floated from Ammergau to injure
+his beautiful friend.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">During the first months after her return she had the whim--as she
+called it--of retiring from society and spending more time upon her
+estates. But the wise caution of the prince prevented it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For Heaven's sake, don't do that. Will you give free play to the
+rumors about your Ammergau episode and the pilgrimage to Jerusalem
+connected with it, by withdrawing into solitude and thus leaving the
+field to your slanderers, that they may disport at will in the deserted
+scenes of your former splendor?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This,&quot; he argued, &quot;is the very time when you must take your old
+position in society, or you will be--pardon my frankness--a fallen
+star.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess evidently shrank from the thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Or--have you some castle in the air whose delights outweigh the world
+in your eyes?&quot; he asked with relentless insistence:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This time the Countess flushed to the fair curls which clustered around
+her forehead.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Since that time the drawing-rooms of the Wildenau palace had again
+been filled with the fragrance of roses--lighted, and adorned with
+glowing Oriental magnificence, and the motley tide of society, amid
+vivacious chatter, flooded the spacious apartments. Glittering with
+diamonds, intoxicated by the charm of her own beauty whose power she
+had not tested for years, the Countess was the centre of all this
+splendor--while in the lonely hunting-seat beyond the pathless Griess,
+the solitary man whom she had banished thither vainly awaited--his
+wife.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The leaves in the forest were turning brown for the sixth time since
+their return from Jerusalem, the autumn gale was sweeping fresh heaps
+of withered leaves to add to the piles towering like walls around the
+deserted building, the height was constantly growing colder and more
+dreary, the drawing-rooms below were continually growing warmer, the
+Palace Wildenau, with its Persian hangings and rugs and cosy nooks
+behind gay screens daily became more thronged with guests. People drew
+their chairs nearer and nearer the blazing fire on the hearth, which
+cast a rosy light upon pallid faces and made weary eyes sparkle with a
+simulated glow of passion. The intimate friends of the Countess
+Wildenau, reclining in comfortable armchairs, were gathered in a group,
+the gentlemen resting after the fatigues of hunting--or the autumn
+man&#339;uvres, the ladies after the first receptions and balls of the
+season, which are the more exhausting before habit again asserts its
+sway, to say nothing of the question of toilettes, always so trying to
+the nerves at these early balls.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What is to be done at such times? It is certainly depressing to
+commence the season with last year's clothes, and one cannot get new
+ones because nobody knows what styles the winter will bring? Parisian
+novelties have not come. So one must wear an unassuming toilette of no
+special style in which one feels uncomfortable and casts aside
+afterwards, because one receives from Paris something entirely
+different from what was expected!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So the ladies chatted and Countess Wildenau entered eagerly into the
+discussion. She understood and sympathized with these woes, though now,
+as the ladies said, she really could not &quot;chime in&quot; since she had a
+store of valuable Oriental stuffs and embroideries, which would supply
+a store of &quot;exclusive&quot; toilettes for years. Only people of inferior
+position were compelled to follow the fashions--great ladies set them
+and the costliness of the material prevented the garments from
+appearing too fantastic. A Countess Wildenau could allow herself such
+bizarre costumes. She had a right to set the fashions and people would
+gladly follow her if they could, but two requirements were lacking, on
+one side the taste--on the other the purse. The Countess charmingly
+waived her friends' envious compliments; but her thoughts were not on
+the theme they were discussing; her eyes wandered to a crayon picture
+hanging beside the mantel-piece, the picture of a boy who had the
+marvellous beauty of one of Raphael's cherubs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What child is that?&quot; asked one of the ladies who had followed her
+glance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't you recognize it?&quot; replied the Countess with a dreamy smile. &quot;It
+is the Christ in the picture of the Sistine Madonna.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, how very strange--if you had a son one might have thought it was
+his portrait, it resembles you so much.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you notice it?&quot; the Countess answered. &quot;Yes, that was the opinion
+of the artist who copied the picture; he gave it to me as a surprise.&quot;
+She rose and took another little picture from the wall. &quot;Look, this is
+a portrait of me when I was three years old--there really is some
+resemblance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The ladies all assented, and the gentlemen, delighted to have an
+opportunity to interrupt the discussion of the fashions, came forward
+and noticed with astonishment the striking likeness between the girl
+and the boy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is really the Christ child in the Sistine Madonna--very exquisitely
+painted!&quot; said the prince.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By the way, Cousin,&quot; cried a sharp, high voice, over Prince Emil's
+shoulder, a voice issuing from a pair of very thin lips shaded by a
+reddish moustache, &quot;do you know that you have the very model of this
+picture on your own estates?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess, with a strangely abrupt, nervous movement, pushed the
+copy aside and hastily turned to replace her own portrait on the wall.
+The gentlemen tried to aid her, but she rejected all help, though she
+was not very skillful in her task, and consequently was compelled to
+keep her back turned to the group a long time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is possible--I cannot remember,&quot; she replied, while still in this
+position. &quot;I cannot know the children of all my tenants.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; the jarring voice persisted, &quot;it is a boy who is roaming about
+near your little hunting-castle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau grew ghastly pale.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Apropos of that hunting box,&quot; the gentleman added--he was one of the
+disinherited Wildenaus--&quot;you might let me have it, Cousin. I'll confess
+that I've recently been looking up the old rat's nest. Schlierheim will
+lease his preserves beyond the government forests, but only as far as
+your boundaries, and there is no house. My brother and I would hire
+them if we could have the old Wildenau hunting-box. We are ready to pay
+you the largest sum the thing is worth. You know it formerly belonged
+to our branch of the family, and your husband obtained it only forty
+years ago. At that time it was valueless to us, but now we should like
+to buy it again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess shivered and ordered more wood to be piled on the fire.
+She had unconsciously drawn nearer to Prince Emily as if seeking his
+protection. Her shoulder touched his. She was startlingly pale.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The recollection of her husband always affects her in this way,&quot; the
+prince remarked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, we will discuss the matter some other time, <i>belle cousine</i>!&quot;
+said Herr Wildenau, sipping a glass of Chartreuse which the servant
+offered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince Emil's watchful gaze followed the little scene with the closest
+attention.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you not intend to have the little castle put in order for your
+father's residence, as the city air does not agree with him in his
+present condition?&quot; he said, with marked emphasis.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, certainly--I--we were speaking of it a short time ago,&quot; stammered
+the Countess. &quot;Besides, I am fond of the little castle. I should not
+wish to sell it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, you are <i>fond</i> of it. Pardon me--that is difficult to understand!
+I thought you set no value upon it--the whole place is so neglected.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is exactly what pleases me--I like to have it so,&quot; replied the
+Countess in an irritated tone. &quot;It does not need to have everything in
+perfect order. It is a genuine forest idyl!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A forest idyl?&quot; repeated the cousin. &quot;H'm, Ah, yes! That's a different
+matter. Pardon me. Had I known it, I would not have alluded to the
+subject!&quot; His keen gray eyes glittered with a peculiar light as he
+kissed her hand and took his leave.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The others thought they must now withdraw also, and the Countess
+detained no one--she was evidently very weary.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince also took leave--for the sake of etiquette--but he
+whispered, with an expression of friendly anxiety, &quot;I will come back
+soon.&quot; And he kept his promise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An hour had passed. Madeleine von Wildenau, her face still colorless,
+was reclining on a divan in a simple home costume.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince Emil's first glance sought the little table on which stood the
+crayon picture of the infant Christ--it had vanished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess followed his look and saw that he missed it--their eyes
+met. The prince took a chair and sat down by her side, as if she were
+an invalid who had just sustained a severe operation and required the
+utmost care. He himself was very pale. Gently arranging the pillows
+behind her, he gazed sympathizingly into her face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why did you not tell me this before?&quot; he murmured, almost inaudibly,
+after a pause. &quot;All this should have been very differently managed!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Prince, how could I suppose that you were so generous--so noble&quot;--she
+could not finish the sentence, her eyes fell, the beautiful woman's
+face crimsoned with shame.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He gazed earnestly at her, feeling at this moment the first great
+sorrow of his life, but also perceiving that he could not judge the
+exquisite creature who lay before him like a statue of the Magdalene
+carved by the most finished artist--because he could not help loving
+her in her sweet embarrassment more tenderly than ever.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Madeleine,&quot; he said, softly, and his breath fanned her brow like a
+cooling breeze, &quot;will you trust me? It will be easier for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She clasped his hand in her slender, transparent fingers, raising her
+eyes beseechingly to his with a look of the sweetest feminine weakness,
+like a young girl or an innocent child who is atoning for some trivial
+sin. &quot;Let me keep my secret,&quot; she pleaded, with such touching
+embarrassment that it almost robbed the prince of his calmness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well,&quot; he said, controlling himself with difficulty. &quot;I will ask
+no farther questions and will not strive to penetrate your secret. But
+if you ever need a friend--and I fear that may happen--pray commit no
+farther imprudences, and remember that, in me, you possess one who adds
+to a warm heart a sufficiently cool head to be able to act for you as
+this difficult situation requires! Farewell, <i>chère amie</i>! Secure a
+complete rest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Without waiting for an answer, like the experienced physician, who
+merely prescribes for his patients without conversing with them about
+the matter, he disappeared.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess was ashamed--fairly oppressed by the generosity of his
+character. Would it have been better had she told him the truth?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Should she tell him that she was married? Married! Was she wedded?
+Could she be called a wife? She had played a farce with herself and
+Freyer, a farce in which, from her standpoint, she could not believe
+herself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On their flight from Ammergau they had hastened to Prankenberg,
+surprised the old pastor in his room, and with Josepha and a coachman
+who had grown gray in the service of the Wildenau family for witnesses,
+declared in the presence of the priest that they took each other for
+husband and wife.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old gentleman, in his surprise and perplexity, knew not what course
+to pursue. The countess appealed to the rite of the Tridentine Council,
+according to which she and Freyer, after this declaration, were man and
+wife, even without a wedding ceremony or permission to marry in another
+diocese. Then the loyal pastor, who had grown gray in the service of
+the Prankenbergs, as well as of his church, could do nothing except
+acknowledge the fact, declare the marriage valid, and give them the
+marriage certificate.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So at the breakfast-table, over the priest's smoking coffee, the bond
+had been formed which the good pastor was afterwards to enter in the
+church register as a marriage. But even this outward proof of the
+marriage between the widowed Countess Wildenau and the Ammergau
+wood-carver Freyer was removed, for the countess had been right in
+distrusting her father and believing that his advice concerning the
+secret marriage was but a stratagem of war to deter her from taking any
+public step.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On returning from the priest's, her carriage dashed by Prince von
+Prankenberg's.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ten minutes after the prince rushed like a tempest into the room of the
+peaceful old pastor, and succeeded in preventing the entry of the
+&quot;scandal,&quot; as he called it, in the church register. So the proofs of
+the fact were limited to the marriage certificate in the husband's
+hands and the two witnesses, Josepha and Martin, the coachman--a chain,
+it is true, which bound Madeleine von Wildenau, yet which was always in
+her power.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What was this marriage? How would a man like the prince regard it?
+Would it not wear a totally different aspect in the eyes of the sceptic
+and experienced man of the world than in those of the simple-hearted
+peasant who believed that everything which glittered was gold? Was such
+a marriage, which permitted the exercise of none of the rights and
+duties which elevate it into a moral institution, better than an
+illegal relation? Nay, rather worse, for it perpetrated a robbery of
+God--it was an illegal relation which had stolen a sacred name!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But--what did this mean? To-day, for the first time, she felt as if
+fate might give the matter the moral importance which she did not
+willingly accord it--as if the Deity whose name she had abused might
+take her at her word and compel her to turn jest into earnest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her better nature frankly confessed that this would be only moral
+justice! To this great truth she bowed her head as the full ears bend
+before the approaching hail storm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Spite of the chill autumn evening, there was an incomprehensible
+sultriness in the air of the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something in the brief conversation with Herr Wildenau and especially
+in the manner in which the prince, with his keen penetration,
+understood the episode, startled the Countess and aroused her fears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Why had Herr Wildenau gone to the little hunting-box? How had he seen
+the child?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet how could she herself have been so imprudent as to display the
+picture? And still--it was the infant Christ of Raphael. Could she not
+even have one of Raphael's heads in her drawing-room without danger
+that some one would discover a suspicious resemblance!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She sprang from the cushions indignantly, drawing herself up to her
+full height. Who was she? What did she dread?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Anything but cowardice, Madeleine,&quot; she cried out to herself. &quot;Woe
+betide you, if your resolution fails, you are lost! If you do not look
+the brute gossip steadily in the eye, if so much as an eye-lash
+quivers, it will rend you. Do not be cowardly, Madeleine, have no
+scruples, they will betray you, will make your glance timid, your
+bearing uncertain, send a flush to your brow at every chance word.
+But&quot;--she sank back among her cushions--&quot;but unfortunately this very
+day the misfortune has happened, all these people may go away and say
+that they saw the Countess Wildenau blush and grow confused--and
+why?--Because a child was mentioned--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She shuddered and cowered--a moan of pain escaped her lips!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yet you exist, my child--I cannot put you out of the world--and no
+mother ever had such a son. And I, instead of being permitted to be
+proud of you, must feel ashamed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, God, thou gavest me every blessing: the man I loved, a beautiful
+child--all earthly power and splendor--yet no contentment, no
+happiness! What do I lack?&quot; She sat a long time absorbed in gloomy
+thought, then suddenly the cause became clear. She lacked the moral
+balance of service and counter-service.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That was the reason all her happiness was but theft, and she was
+forced, like a thief, to enjoy it in fear and secrecy. Her maternal
+happiness was theft--for Josepha, the stranger, filled a mother's place
+to the boy, and when she herself pressed him to her heart she was
+stealing a love she had not earned. Her conjugal happiness was a theft,
+for so long as she retained her fortune, she was not permitted to
+marry! That was the curse! Wherever she looked, wherever she saw
+herself, she was always the recipient, the petitioner--and what did she
+bestow in return? Where did she make any sacrifice? Nothing--and
+nowhere! Egotism was apparent in everything. To enjoy all--possess all,
+even what was forbidden and sacrifice nothing, must finally render her
+a thief--in her own eyes, in those of God, and who knows, perhaps also
+in those of men, should her secret ever be discovered!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Woe betide you, unhappy woman--have you not the strength to resign one
+for the other? Would you rather live in fear of the betrayer than
+voluntarily relinquish your stolen goods? Then do not think yourself
+noble or lofty--do not deem yourself worthy of the grace for which you
+long!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She hid her face in the cushions of the divan, fairly quivering under
+the burden of her self-accusation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I beg your pardon, your Highness, I only wanted to ask what evening
+toilette you desired.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau started up. &quot;If you would only cease this
+stealing about on tip-toe!&quot; she angrily exclaimed. &quot;I beg pardon, I
+knocked twice and thought I did not hear your 'come in.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Walk so that you can be heard--I don't like to have my servants glide
+about like spies, remember that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At Princess Hohenstein's we were all obliged to wear felt slippers.
+Her Highness could not endure any noise.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well I have better nerves than Princess Hohenstein.&quot;--</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And apparently a worse conscience,&quot; muttered the maid, who had not
+failed to notice her mistress' confusion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May I ask once more about the evening toilette?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Street costume--I shall not go to the theatre, I will drive out to the
+estates. Order Martin to have the carriage ready.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The maid withdrew.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess felt as if she were in a fever--must that inquisitive maid
+see her in such a condition? It seemed as though she was surrounded
+like a hunted animal, as though eyes were everywhere watching her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was something in the woman's look which had irritated her. Oh,
+God, had matters gone so far--must she fear the glance of her own maid?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Up and away to nature and her child, to her poor neglected husband on
+the cliff.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her heart grew heavy at the thought that the time since she had last
+visited the deserted man could soon be counted by months.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her <i>interest</i> in the simple-hearted son of nature was beginning to
+wane, she could not deny it. Woe betide her if <i>love</i> should also grow
+cold; if that should happen, then--she realized it with horror--she
+would have no excuse for the whole sensuous--supersensuous episode,
+which had perilled both her honor and her existence!</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>AT THE CHILD'S BEDSIDE</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The stars were already twinkling above the Griess, here and
+there one
+looked as if impaled on a giant flagstaff, as they sparkled just above
+the tops of the lofty firs or the sharp pinnacles of the crags.
+Countless shooting stars glided hither and thither like loving glances
+seeking one another.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The night was breathing in long regular inhalations. Every five minutes
+her sleeping breath rustled the tree-tops.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Four horses drawing a small calash whose wheels were covered with
+rubber glided across the Griess as noiselessly as a spectral equipage.
+The animals knew the way, and their fiery spirit urged them forward
+without the aid of shout or lash, though the mountain grew steeper and
+steeper till the black walls of the hunting seat at last became visible
+in the glimmering star-light.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha was standing at the window of the little sitting-room upstairs:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I think the countess is coming.&quot; At a table, by the lamp, bending over
+a book, sat &quot;the <i>steward</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He evidently had not heard the words, for he did not look up from the
+volume and it seemed as if the gloomy shadow above his eyes grew darker
+still.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Joseph, the countess is coming!&quot; cried Josepha in a louder tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are deceiving yourself again, as usual,&quot; he replied in the
+wonderful voice which gave special importance to the simplest words, as
+when a large, musical bell is rung for some trivial cause.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, this time it really is she,&quot; Josepha insisted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't believe it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha shook her head. &quot;You must receive her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She is not coming on my account, it is only to see the child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then <i>I</i> will go. Oh, Heaven, what a life!&quot; sighed Josepha, going out
+upon the green moss-covered steps of the half ruined stone stairs where
+the carriage had just stopped.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is that you, Josepha?&quot; asked the countess, in a disappointed tone,
+&quot;where--where is Freyer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is within, your Highness, he would not believe that your Highness
+was really coming!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess understood the bitter meaning of the words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did not come to endure ill-temper!&quot; she murmured. &quot;Is the boy
+asleep?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, we have taken him into the sitting-room, he is coughing again and
+his head is burning, so I wanted to have him in a warmer room.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Isn't it warm here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Since the funnel fell out, we cannot heat these rooms; Freyer tried to
+fit it in, but it smokes constantly. I wrote to your Highness last
+month asking what should be done. Freyer, too, reported a fortnight ago
+that the stove ought to be repaired, and the child moved to other
+apartments before the cold weather set in if Your Highness approved,
+but--we have had no answer. Now the little boy is ill--it is beginning
+to be very cold.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Waldenau bit her lips. Yes, it was true, the letters had
+been written--and in the whirl of society and visits she had forgotten
+them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now the child was ill--through her fault. She entered the sitting-room.
+Freyer stood waiting for her in a half defiant, half submissive
+attitude--half master, half servant.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The bearing was unlovely, like everything that comes from a false
+position. It displeased the countess and injured Freyer, though she had
+herself placed him in this situation. It made him appear awkward and
+clownish.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When, with careless hand, we have damaged a work of art and perceive
+that instead of improving we have marred it, we do not blame ourselves,
+but the botched object, and the innocent object must suffer because we
+have spoiled our own pleasure in it. It is the same with the work of
+art of creation--a human being.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There are some natures which can never leave things undisturbed, but
+seek to gain a creative share in everything by attempts at shaping and
+when convinced that it would have been better had they left the work
+untouched, they see in the imperfect essay, not their own want of
+skill, but the inflexibility of the material, pronounce it not worth
+the labor bestowed--and cast it aside.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess had one of these natures, so unconsciously cruel in their
+artistic experiments, and her marred object was--Freyer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Therefore his bearing did not, could not please her, and she allowed a
+glance of annoyance to rest upon him, which did not escape his notice.
+Passing him, she went to their son's bed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There lay the &quot;infant Christ,&quot; a boy six or seven years old with silken
+curls and massive brows, beneath whose shadow the closed eyes were
+concealed by dark-lashed lids. A single ray from the hanging lamp fell
+upon the forehead of the little Raphael, and showed the soft brows knit
+as if with unconscious pain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The child was not happy--or not well--or both. He breathed heavily in
+his sleep, and there was a slight nervous twitching about the
+delicately moulded nostrils.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He has evidently lost flesh since I was last here!&quot; said the countess
+anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer remained silent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you think?&quot; asked the mother.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What can I think? You have not seen the boy for so <i>long</i> that you can
+judge whether he has altered far better than I.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Joseph!&quot; The beautiful woman drew herself up, and a look of genuine
+sorrow rested upon the pale, irritated countenance of her husband.
+&quot;Whenever I come, I find nothing save bitterness and cutting
+words--open and secret reproaches. This is too much. Not even to-day,
+when I find my child ill, do you spare the mother's anxious heart. This
+is more than I can endure, it is ignoble, unchivalrous.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon me,&quot; replied her husband in a low tone, &quot;I could not suppose
+that a mother who deserts her child for months could possibly possess
+so tender a nature that she would instantly grow anxious over a slight
+illness or a change in his appearance. I am a plain man, and cannot
+understand such contradictions!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, from your standpoint you are right--in your eyes I must seem a
+monster of heartlessness. I almost do in my own. Yet, precisely because
+the reproach appears merited it cuts me so deeply, that is why it would
+be generous and noble to spare me! Oh! Freyer, what has become of the
+great divine love which once forgave my every fault?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is where you have banished it, buried in the depths of my heart, as
+I am buried among these lonely mountains, silent and forgotten.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, shaking her head, gazed earnestly at him. &quot;Joseph, you
+see that I am suffering. You must see that it would be a solace to rest
+in your love, and you are ungenerous enough to humble my bowed head
+still more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have no wish to humble you. But we can be generous only to those who
+need it. I see in the haughty Countess Wildenau a person who can
+exercise generosity, but not require it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because you do not look into the depths of my heart, tortured with
+agonies of unrest and self-accusation?&quot; As she spoke tears sprang to
+her eyes, and she involuntarily thought of the faithful, shrewd friend
+at home whose delicate power of perception had that very day spared her
+the utterance of a single word, and at one glance perceived all the
+helplessness of her situation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">True, the <i>latter</i> was a man of the world whom the tinsel and glitter
+which surrounded her no longer had power to dazzle, and who was
+therefore aware how poor and wretched one can be in the midst of
+external magnificence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The <i>former</i>--a man of humble birth, with the childish idea of the
+value of material things current among the common people, could not
+imagine that a person might be surrounded by splendor and luxury, play
+a brilliant part in society, and yet be unhappy and need consideration.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But, however, she might apologize for him, the very excuses lowered him
+still more in her eyes! Each of these conflicts seemed to widen the
+gulf between them instead of bridging it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Such scenes, which always reminded her afresh of his lowly origin, did
+him more injury in her eyes than either of them suspected at the
+moment. They were not mere ebullitions of anger, which yielded to
+equally sudden reactions--they were not phases of passion, but the
+result of cool deliberation from the standpoint of the educated woman,
+which ended in hopeless disappointment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The continual refrain: &quot;You do not understand me!&quot; with which the
+countess closed such discussions expressed the utter hopelessness of
+their mutual relations.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You wonder that I come so rarely!&quot; she said bitterly. &quot;And yet it is
+you alone who are to blame--nay, you have even kept me from the bedside
+of my child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed?&quot; Freyer with difficulty suppressed his rising wrath. &quot;This,
+too!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, how can you expect me to come gladly, when I always encounter
+scenes like these? How often, when I could at last escape from the
+thousand demands of society, and hurried hither with a soul thirsting
+for love, have you repulsed me with your perpetual reproaches which you
+make only because you have no idea of my relations and the claims of
+the fashionable world. So, at last, when I longed to come here to my
+husband and my child, dread of the unpleasant scenes which shadow your
+image, held me back, and I preferred to conjure before me at home the
+Freyer whom I once loved and always should love, if you did not
+yourself destroy the noble image. With <i>that</i> Freyer I have sweet
+intercourse by my lonely fireside--with <i>him</i> I obtain comfort and
+peace, if I avoid <i>this</i> Freyer with his petty sensitiveness, his
+constant readiness to take umbrage.&quot; A mournful smile illumined her
+face as she approached him; &quot;You see that when I think of the Freyer of
+whom I have just spoken--the Freyer of my imagination--my heart
+overflows and my eyes grow dim! Do you no longer know that Freyer? Can
+you not tell me where I shall find him again if I seek him very, <i>very</i>
+earnestly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer opened his arms and pointed to his heart: &quot;Here, here, you can
+find him, if you desire--come, my beloved, loved beyond all things
+earthly, come to the heart which is only sick and sensitive from
+longing for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In blissful forgetfulness she threw herself upon his breast, completely
+overwhelmed by another wave of the old illusion, losing herself
+entirely in his ardent embrace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, my dear wife!&quot; he murmured in her ear, &quot;I know that I am irritable
+and unjust! But you do not suspect the torment to which you condemn me.
+Banished from your presence, far from my home, torn from my native
+soil, and not yet rooted in yours. What life is this? My untrained
+reason is not capable of creating a philosophy which could solve this
+mystery. Why must these things be? I am married, yet not married. I am
+your husband, yet you are not my wife. I have committed no crime, yet
+am a prisoner, am not a dishonored man--yet am a despised one who must
+conceal himself in order not to bring shame upon his wife!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So the years passed and life flits by!&quot; You come often, but--I might
+almost say only to make me taste once more the joys of the heaven from
+which I am banished.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, it is more cruel than all the tortures of bell, for the condemned
+souls are not occasionally transferred to Heaven only to be again
+thrust forth and suffer a thousandfold. Even the avenging God is not so
+pitiless.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, overwhelmed by this heavy charge, let her head sink upon
+her husband's breast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;See, my wife,&quot; he continued in a gentle, subdued tone, whose magic
+filled her heart with that mournful pleasure with which we listen to a
+beautiful dirge even beside the corpse of the object of our dearest
+love. &quot;In your circles people probably have sufficient self-control to
+suppress a great sorrow. I know that I only weary and annoy you by my
+constant complaints, and that you will at last prefer to avoid me
+entirely rather than expose yourself to them!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know this--yet I cannot do otherwise. I was not trained to
+dissimulation--self-control, as you call it--I cannot laugh when my
+heart is bleeding or utter sweet words when my soul is full of
+bitterness. I do not understand what compulsion could prevent you, a
+free, rich woman, from coming to the husband whom you love, and I
+cannot believe that you could not come if you longed to do so--that is
+why I so often doubt your love.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What should you love in me? I warned you that I cannot always move
+about with the crown of thorns and sceptre of reeds as Ecce Homo, and
+you now perceive that you were deceived in me, that I am only a poor,
+ordinary man, your inferior in education and intellect! And so long as
+I am not a real Ecce Homo--though that perhaps might happen--so long I
+am not what you need. But however poor and insignificant I may be--I am
+not without honor--and when I think that you only come occasionally,
+out of compassion, to bring the beggar the crumbs which your fine
+gentlemen have left me--then, I will speak frankly--then my pride
+rebels and I would rather starve than accept alms.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And therefore you thrust back the loving wife when, with an
+overflowing heart, she stole away from the glittering circles of
+society to hasten to your side, therefore you were cold and stern,
+disdaining what the others <i>sought in vain</i>!--For, however distant you
+may be, there has not been an hour of my life which you might not have
+witnessed--however free and independent of you I may stand, there is
+not a fibre in my heart which does not cling to you! Ah, if you could
+only understand this deep, sacred tie which binds the freest spirit to
+the husband, the father of my child. If I had wings to soar over every
+land and sea--I should ever be drawn back to you and would return as
+surely as 'the bird bound by the silken cord.' No one can part me from
+you except <i>you yourself</i>. That you are not my equal in education, as
+you assert, does not sever us, but inferiority of <i>character</i> would do
+so, for nothing but <i>greatness</i> attracts me--to find you base would be
+the death-knell of our love! Even the child would no longer be a bond
+between us, for to intellectual natures like mine the ties of blood are
+mere animal instincts, unless pervaded and transfigured by a loftier
+idea. The greatest peril which threatens our love is that your narrow
+views prevent your attaining the standpoint from which a woman like
+myself must be judged. I have great faults which need great indulgence
+and a superiority which is not alarmed by them. Unfortunately, my
+friend, you lack both. I have a great love for you--but you measure it
+by the contracted scales of your humdrum morality, and before this it
+vanishes because its dimensions far transcend it.--Where, where, my
+friend, is the grandeur, the freedom of the soul which I need?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas, your words are but too true,&quot; said Freyer, releasing her from
+his embrace. &quot;Every word is a death sentence. You ask a grandeur which
+I do not possess and shall never obtain. I grew up in commonplace
+ideas, I have never seen any other life than that in which the husband
+and wife belonged together, the father and mother reared, tended, and
+watched their children together, and love in this close, tender
+companionship reached its highest goal. This idea of quiet domestic
+happiness embodied to me all the earthly bliss allotted by God to
+Christian husbands and wives. Of a love which is merely incidental,
+something in common with all the other interests of life, and which
+when it comes in conflict with them, must move aside and wait till it
+is permitted to assert itself again, of such a love I had no
+conception--at least, not in marriage! True, we know that in the dawn
+of love it is kept secret as something which must be hidden. But this
+is a state of restless torture, which we strive to end as soon as
+possible by a marriage. That such a condition of affairs would be
+possible in marriage would never have entered my mind, and say what you
+will, a--marriage like ours is little better than an illegal relation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess started--she had had the same thought that very day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And I &quot;--Freyer inexorably continued--&quot;am little more than your lover!
+If you choose to be faithful to me, I shall be grateful, but do not ask
+the 'grandeur' as you call it, of my believing it. Whoever regards
+conjugal duties so lightly--whoever, like you, feels bound by no law
+'which was only made for poor, ordinary people' will keep faith
+only--so long as it is agreeable to do so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, gazing into vacancy, vainly strove to find a reply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This seems very narrow, very ridiculous from your lofty standpoint.
+You see I shall always be rustic. It is a misfortune for you that
+you came to me. Why did you not remain in your own aristocratic
+circle--gentlemen of noble birth would have understood you far better
+than a poor, plain man like me. I tell myself so daily--it is the worm
+which gnaws at my life. Now you have the 'greatness' you desire, the
+only 'greatness' I can offer--that of the perception of our misery.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine nodded hopelessly. &quot;Yes, we are in an evil strait. I despair
+more and more of restoring peace between us--for it would be possible
+only in case I could succeed in making you comprehend the necessity of
+the present certainly unnatural form of our marriage. Yet you cannot
+and will not see that a woman like me cannot live in poverty, that
+wealth, though it does not render me happy, is nevertheless
+indispensable, not on account of the money, but because with it honor,
+power, and distinction would be lost. You know that this would follow
+an acknowledgement of our marriage, and I would die rather than resign
+them. I was born to a station too lofty to be content in an humble
+sphere. Do you expect the eagle to descend to a linnet's nest and dwell
+there? It would die, for it can breathe only in the regions for which
+it was created.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But the eagle should never have stooped to the linnet,&quot; said Freyer,
+gloomily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I believed that I should find in you a consort, aspiring enough to
+follow me to my heights, for the wings of your genius rustled with
+mighty strokes above me when you hung upon the cross. Oh, can one who,
+like you, has reached the height of the cross, sink to the Philistine
+narrowness of the ideas of the lower classes and thrust aside the
+foaming elixir of love, because it is not proffered in the usual wooden
+bowl of the daily performance of commonplace duties? It is incredible,
+but true. And lastly you threaten that I shall make you an Ecce Homo!
+If you were, it would be no fault of mine but because, even in daily
+life, you could not cease to play the Christ.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess had spoken with cutting sharpness and bitterness; it
+seemed as if the knife she turned against the man she loved must be
+piercing her own heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer's breath came heavily, but no sound betrayed the anguish of the
+wound he had received. But the child, as if feeling, even in its sleep,
+that its mother was about to sunder, with a fatal blow, the chord of
+life uniting her to the father and itself, quivered in pain and flung
+its little hands into the air, as though to protect the mysterious bond
+whose filaments ran through its heart also.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;See, the child feels our strife and suffers from it!&quot; said Freyer, and
+the unutterable pain in the words swept away all hardness, all
+defiance. The mother, with tearful eyes, sank down beside the bed of
+the suffering child--languishing under the discord between her and its
+father like a tender blossom beneath the warfare of the elements. &quot;My
+child!&quot; she said in a choking voice, &quot;how thin your little hands have
+grown! What does this mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She pressed the boy's transparent little hands to her lips and when she
+looked up again two wonderful dark eyes were gazing at her from the
+child's pale face. Yes, those were the eyes of the infant Redeemer of
+the World in the picture of the Sistine Madonna, the eyes which mirror
+the foreboding of the misery of a world. It was the expression of
+Freyer's, but spiritualized, and as single sunbeams dance upon a dark
+flood, it seemed as if golden rays from his mother's sparkling orbs had
+leaped into his.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What a marvellous child! The mother's delicate beauty, blended with the
+deep earnestness of the father, steeped in the loveliness and
+transfiguration of Raphael. And she could wound the father of this boy
+with cruel words? She could scorn the wonderful soul of Freyer, which
+gazed at her in mute reproach from the eyes of the child, because the
+woe of the Redeemer had impressed upon it indelible traces; disdain it
+beside the bed of this boy, this pledge of a love whose supernatural
+power transformed the man into a god, to rest for a moment in a divine
+embrace? &quot;Mother!&quot; murmured the boy softly, as if in a waking dream;
+but Madeleine von Wildenau felt with rapture that he meant <i>her</i>, not
+Josepha. Then he closed his eyes again and slept on.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Kneeling at the son's bedside, she held out her hand to the father; it
+seemed as if a trembling ray of light entered her soul, reflected from
+the moment when he had formerly approached her in all the radiance of
+his power and beauty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And <i>we</i> should not love each other?&quot; she said, while binning tears
+flowed down her cheeks. Freyer drew her from, the child's couch,
+clasping her in a close embrace. &quot;My dove!&quot; He could say no more, grief
+and love stifled his voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She threw her arms around his neck, as she had done when she made her
+penitent confession with such irresistible grace that he would have
+pardoned every mortal sin. &quot;Forgive me, Joseph,&quot; she said softly, in
+order not to wake the boy who, even in sleep, turned his little head
+toward his parents, as a flower sways toward the sun. &quot;I am a poor,
+weak woman; I myself suffer unutterably under the separation from you
+and the child; if you knew how I often feel--a rock would pity me! It
+is a miserable condition--nothing is mine, neither you, my son, nor my
+wealth, unless I sacrifice one for the other, and that I cannot resolve
+to do. Ah, have compassion, on my weakness. It is woman's way to bear
+the most unendurable condition rather than form an energetic resolve
+which might change it. I know that the right course would be for me to
+find courage to renounce the world and say: 'I am married, I will
+resign, as my husband's will requires, the Wildenau fortune; I will
+retire from the stage as a beggar--I will starve and work for my daily
+bread.' I often think how beautiful and noble this would be, and that
+perhaps we might be happy so--happier than we are now--if it were only
+<i>done</i>! But when I seriously face the thought, I feel that I cannot do
+it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yet you told me in Ammergau,&quot; cried Freyer, &quot;that it was only on your
+father's account that you could not acknowledge the marriage. Your
+father is now a paralytic, half-foolish old man, who cannot live long,
+then this reason will be removed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, when we married it <i>was</i> he who prevented me from announcing it;
+I wished to do so, and it would have been easy. But if I state the fact
+now, after having been secretly married eight years, during which I
+have illegally retained the property, I shall stamp myself a cheat.
+Take me to the summit of the Kofel and bid me leap down its thousand
+feet of cliff--I cannot, were it to purchase my eternal salvation. Hurl
+me down--I care not--but do not expect me voluntarily to take the
+plunge, it is impossible. Unless God sends an angel to bear me over the
+chasm on its wings, all pleading will be futile.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She pressed her cheek, burning with the fever of fear, tenderly against
+his: &quot;Have pity on my weakness, forgive me! Ah, I know I am always
+talking about greatness--yet with me it exists only in the imagination.
+I am too base to be capable of what is really noble.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You see me now, as God Himself beholds me. He will judge me--but it is
+the privilege of marital love to forgive. Will you not use this sweet
+right? Perhaps God will show me some expedient. Perhaps I shall succeed
+in making an agreement with the relatives or gaining the aid of the
+king, but for all this I must live in the world--in order to secure
+influence and scope for my plans. Will you have patience and
+forbearance with me till there is a change?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That will never be, any more than during the past eight years.
+But I will bear with you, poor wife; in spite of <i>everything</i> I
+will trust your love, I will try to repress my discontent when you
+come and gratefully accept what you bestow, without remonstrance or
+fault-finding. I will bear it as long as I can. Perhaps--it will wear
+me out, then we shall both be released. I would have removed myself
+from the world long ago--but that would be a sin, and would not have
+benefited you. Your heart is too kind not to be wounded and the
+suicide's bloody shade would not have permitted you to enjoy your
+liberty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Heaven, what are you saying! My poor husband, is that your
+condition?&quot; cried the countess, deeply stirred by the tragedy of these
+calmly uttered words. She shuddered at this glimpse of the dark depths
+of his fathomless soul and what, in her opinion, he might lack in
+broadness of view was now supplied by the extent of his suffering; at
+this moment he again interested her. Throwing herself on his breast,
+she overwhelmed him with caresses. She sought to console him, make him
+forget the bitterness of his grief by the magic potion of her love. She
+herself did not know that even now--carried away by a genuine emotion
+of compassion--she was yielding to the demoniac charm of trying upon
+his pain the power of her coquetry, which she had long since tested
+sufficiently upon <i>human beings</i>. But where she would undoubtedly have
+succeeded with men of cultivation, she failed with this child of
+nature, who instinctively felt that this sweet display of tenderness
+was not meant for him but was called forth by the struggle against a
+hostile element which she desired to bribe or conquer. His grief
+remained unchanged; it was too deeply rooted to be dispelled by the
+love-raptures of a moment. Yet the poor husband, languishing for the
+wife so ardently beloved, took the poisoned draught she offered, as the
+thirsting traveller in the desert puts his burning lips to the tainted
+pool whence he knows he is drinking death.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">CHAPTER XX.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>CONFLICTS</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It was morning! The lamp had almost burned out! Josepha and
+the
+countess were busied with the boy, whose sleep was disturbed by a
+short, dry cough. The mother had remained at the little castle all
+night and rested only a few hours. When with the little one there were
+times when her maternal affection was roused. Then she was seized with
+dread lest God should recall a precious gift because she had not known
+its value. It would be only just, she was aware of that--and because of
+its justice it seemed probable, and her heart strove to make amends in
+a few hours for the neglect of years. Perhaps thereby she might escape
+the punishment. But when she had gone, the little pale star in her
+horizon receded into the background before the motley phenomena of the
+world in which she lived, and only in isolated moments did she realize,
+by a dull pain, that feelings were slumbering within her soul which
+could not be developed--like a treasure which lies concealed in a spot
+whence it cannot be raised. It was akin to the parable of the servant
+who did not put out his talent at interest. This talent which God
+entrusted to men is <i>love</i>. A lofty noble sentiment which we suppress
+is the buried treasure which God will require of us, when the period
+for which He loaned it has expired. There were hours when the unhappy
+woman realized this. Then she accused everything--the world and
+herself! And the poor little child felt in his precocious soul the
+grief of the &quot;beautiful lady,&quot; in whom he presciently loved his mother
+without knowing that it was she. Ordinary children, like animals, love
+best those who provide for their physical wants and therefore
+frequently cling more fondly to the nurse than to the mother. Not so
+this boy. He was almost ungrateful to Josepha, who nursed him the more
+faithfully, the more he was neglected by the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha was passionately attached to the boy. All the sorrowful love
+which she had kept in her desolate heart for her own dead son was
+transferred from the first hour to this delicate, motherless creature.
+It reminded her so much of her own poor child: the marked family
+likeness between him and Freyer--the mystery with which he must be
+surrounded. A mother who was ashamed of him, like Josepha at the
+time--it seemed as though her own dead child had returned to life. And
+besides she passed for his mother.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The boy was born while the countess was travelling in the East, and it
+was an easy matter to arrange with the authorities. The countess, while
+in Jerusalem, took the name of Josepha Freyer--Josepha that of Countess
+Wildenau, and the child was baptized under the name of Freyer. It was
+entered in the register as an illegitimate child, and Josepha bore the
+disgrace and returned to Germany as the boy's mother.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What was lacking to complete Josepha's illusion that the child was
+hers, and that she might love it as a mother? Nothing, save the return
+of her affection. And this was a source of bitter pain. She might give
+and do what she would, devote her days and nights to him, sacrifice her
+already failing health--nothing availed. When after weeks and months of
+absence the &quot;beautiful lady,&quot; as he called her, came, his melancholy
+eyes brightened and he seemed to glow with new life as he stretched
+out his little arms to her with a look that appeared to say: &quot;Had
+you not come soon, I should have died!&quot; Josepha no longer existed
+for him, and even his father, whom he usually loved tenderly as his
+god-father--&quot;Goth,&quot; as the people in that locality call it--was
+forgotten. This vexed Josepha beyond endurance. She performed a
+mother's duties in all their weariness, her heart cherished a mother's
+love with all its griefs and cares and, when that other woman came, who
+deserved nothing, did nothing, had neither a mother's heart nor a
+mother's rights--she took the child away and Josepha had naught save
+the trouble and the shame! The former enjoyed hurriedly, lightly,
+carelessly, the joys which alone could have repaid Josepha's
+sacrifices, the child's sweet smiles, tender caresses, and coaxing
+ways, for which she would have given her life. She ground her sharp
+white teeth and a secret jealousy, bordering on hatred, took root in
+her embittered mind. What could she esteem in this woman? For what
+should she be grateful to her? She was kind to her--because she needed
+her services--but what did she care for Josepha herself! &quot;She might
+give me less, but do her duty to her husband and child--that would suit
+me better,&quot; she secretly murmured. &quot;To have such a child and not be a
+mother to him, not give him the sunshine, the warmth of maternal love
+which he needs--and then come and take away from another what she would
+not earn for herself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To have such a husband, the highest blessing Josepha knew on earth--a
+man to whom the whole world paid homage as if to God, a man so devout,
+so good, so modest, so faithful--and desert him, conceal him in a
+ruinous old castle that no one might note the disgrace of the noble
+lady who had married a poor wood-carver! And then to come and snatch
+the kisses from his lips as birds steal berries, when no one was
+looking, he was good enough for that! And he permitted it--the proud,
+stern man, whom the whole community feared and honored. It was enough
+to drive one mad.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And she, Josepha, must swallow her wrath year after year--and dared not
+say anything--for woe betide her if she complained of the countess! He
+would allow no attack upon her--though this state of affairs was
+killing him. She was forced to witness how he grieved for this woman,
+see him gradually lose flesh and strength, for the wicked creature
+bewitched every one, and charmed her husband and child till they were
+fairly dying of love for her, while she was carrying on her shameless
+flirtations with others.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Such were the terrible accusations raging in Josepha's passionate soul
+against the countess, charges which effaced the memory of all she owed
+her former benefactress.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I should like to know what she would do without me&quot; was the constant
+argument of her ungrateful hatred. &quot;She may well be kind to me--if I
+chose, her wicked pranks would soon be over. She would deserve it--and
+what do I care for the pay? I can look after myself, I don't need the
+ill-gotten gains. But--then I should be obliged to leave the boy--he
+would have no one. No, no, Josepha, hold out as long as possible--and
+be silent for the child's sake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Such were the conflicts seething in the breast of the silent dweller in
+the hunting-castle, such the gulfs yawning at the unsuspicious woman's
+feet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was the vengeance of insulted popular morality, to which she
+imagined herself so far superior. This insignificant impulse in the
+progress of the development of mankind, insignificant because it was
+the special attribute of the humble plain people, will always conquer
+in the strife against the emancipation of so-called &quot;more highly
+organized&quot; natures, for it is the destiny of individual giants always
+to succumb in the war against ordinary mortals. Here there is a great,
+eternal law of the universe, which from the beginning gathered its
+contingent from the humble, insignificant elements, and in so-called
+&quot;plebian morality&quot; is rooted--Christianity. Therefore, the former
+will conquer and always assert its right, even where the little
+Philistine army, which gathers around its standard, defeats a far
+nobler foe than itself, a foe for whom the gods themselves would mourn!
+Woe betide the highly gifted individuality which unites with Philistine
+elements--gives them rights over it, and believes it can still pursue
+its own way--in any given case it will find pity before <i>God</i>, sooner
+than before the judgment seat of this literal service, and the spears
+and shafts of its yeomanry.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Something like one of these lance-thrusts pierced the countess from
+Josepha's eyes, as she bent over the waking child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha tried to take the boy, but he struggled violently and would not
+go to her. With sparkling, longing eyes he nestled in the arms of the
+&quot;beautiful lady.&quot; The countess drew the frail little figure close to
+her heart. As she did so, she noticed the stern, resentful expression
+of Josepha's dry cracked lips and the hectic flush on the somewhat
+prominent cheek bones. There was something in the girl's manner which
+displeased her mistress. Had it been in her power, she would have
+dismissed this person, who &quot;was constantly altering for the worse.&quot; But
+she was bound to her by indissoluble fetters, nay, was dependent upon
+her--and must fear her. She felt this whenever she came. Under such
+impressions, every visit to the castle had gradually become a penance,
+instead of a pleasure. Her husband, out of humor and full of
+reproaches, the child ill, the nurse sullen and gloomy. A spoiled child
+of the world, who had always had everything disagreeable removed from
+her path, could not fail at last to avoid a place where she could not
+breathe freely a single hour.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you not get the child's breakfast, Josepha?&quot; she said wearily,
+the dark circles around her eyes bearing traces of her night vigil.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He must be bathed first!&quot; said Josepha, in the tone which often
+wounded the countess--the tone by which nurses, to whose charge
+children are left too much, instruct young mothers that, &quot;if they take
+no care of their little ones elsewhere, they have nothing to say in the
+nursery.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, with aristocratic self-control, struggled to maintain her
+composure. Then she said quietly, though her voice sounded faint and
+hoarse: &quot;The child seems weak, I think it will be better to give him
+something to eat before washing him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; pleaded the little fellow, &quot;I am thirsty.&quot; The words reminded
+the countess of his father, as he said on the cross: &quot;I thirst.&quot; When
+these memories came, all the anguish of her once beautiful love--now
+perishing so miserably--overwhelmed her. She lifted the boy--he was
+light as a vapor, a vision of mist--from the bed into her lap, and
+wrapped his little bare feet in the folds of her morning dress. He
+pressed his little head, crowned with dark, curling locks, against her
+cheek. Such moments were sweet, but outweighed by too much bitterness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Bring him some milk--fresh milk!&quot; Madeleine von Wildenau repeated in the
+slightly imperious tone which seems to consider opposition impossible.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That will be entirely different from his usual custom,&quot; remarked
+Josepha, as if the countess' order had seriously interfered with the
+regular mode of life necessary to the child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The mother perceived this, and a faint flush of shame and indignation
+suffused her face, but instantly vanished, as if grief had consumed the
+wave of blood which wrath had stirred.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is your mother--Josepha--kind to you?&quot; she asked, when Josepha had
+left the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The boy nodded carelessly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She does not strike you, she is gentle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, she doesn't strike me,&quot; the little fellow answered. &quot;She loves
+me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you love her, too?&quot; the countess went on.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wh--y--Yes!&quot; said the child, shrugging his shoulders. Then he looked
+tenderly into her face. &quot;I love you better.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is not right, Josepha is your mother--you must love her best.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The boy shook his head thoughtfully. &quot;But I would rather have you for
+my mamma.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That cannot be--unfortunately--I must not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The child gazed at her with an expression of sorrowful disappointment.
+=At last he found an expedient. &quot;But in Heaven--when I go to
+Heaven--<i>you</i> will be my mother there, won't you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess shuddered--an indescribable pain pierced her heart, yet
+she was happy, a blissful anguish! Tears streamed from her eyes and,
+clasping the child tenderly, she gently kissed him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, my child! In Heaven--perhaps I may be your mother!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha now brought in the milk and wanted to give it to him, but the
+boy would not take it from her, he insisted that the countess must hold
+the bowl. She did so, but her hand trembled and Josepha was obliged to
+help her, or the whole contents would have been spilled. She averted
+her face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She cannot even give her child anything to drink,&quot; thought Josepha, as
+she moved about the room, putting it in order.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Josepha, please leave me alone a little while,&quot; said the countess,
+almost beseechingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed?&quot; Josepha's cheeks flushed scarlet, it seemed as if the bones
+grew still more prominent. &quot;If I am in your Highness' way--I can go at
+once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Josepha!&quot; said the countess, now suddenly turning toward her a face
+wet with tears. &quot;Surely I might be allowed to spend fifteen minutes
+alone with my child without offending any one! I will forgive your
+words--on account of your natural jealousy--and I think you already
+regret them, do you not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; replied Josepha, somewhat reluctantly, but so conquered by the
+unhappy mother's words that she pressed a hard half reluctant kiss upon
+the countess' hand with her rough, parched lips. Then, with a
+passionate glance at the child, she gave place to the mother whose
+claim she would fain have disputed before God Himself, if she could.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But when the door had closed behind her, the countess could bear no
+more. Placing the child in his little bed, she flung herself sobbing
+beside it. &quot;My child--my child, forgive me,&quot; she cried, forgetting all
+prudence &quot;--pray for me to God.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Just at that moment the door opened and Freyer entered. All that was
+stirring the mother's heart instantly became clear to him, as he saw
+her thus broken down beside the boy's bed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Calm yourself--what will the child think!&quot; he said, bending down and
+raising her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't cry, Mamma!&quot; said the boy, stroking the soft hair on the
+grief-bowed head. He did not know why he now suddenly called her
+&quot;mamma&quot;--perhaps it was a prospect of the heaven where she would be his
+mother, and he said it in advance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Freyer, kill me--I am worthy of nothing better--cut short the
+battle of a wasted life! An animal which cannot recover is killed out
+of pity, why not a human being, who feels suffering doubly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Magdalena--Countess--I do not know you in this mood.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nor do I know myself! What am I? What is a mother who is no mother--a
+wife who cannot declare herself a wife? A fish that cannot swim, a bird
+that cannot fly! We kill such poor crippled creatures out of sheer
+compassion. What kind of existence is mine? An egotist who nevertheless
+feels the pain of those whom she renders unhappy; an aristocrat who
+cannot exist outside of her own sphere and yet pines for the eternal
+verity of human nature; a coquette who trifles with hearts and yet
+would <i>die</i> for a genuine feeling--these are my traits of character!
+Can there be anything more contradictory, more full of wretchedness?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let us go out of doors, Countess, such conversation is not fit for the
+child to hear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, he does not understand it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He understands more than you believe, you do not know what questions
+he often asks--ah, you deprive yourself of the noblest joys by being
+unable to watch the remarkable development of this child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She nodded silently, absorbed in gazing at the boy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, Countess, the sun has risen--the cool morning air will do you
+good, I will ring for Josepha to take the boy,&quot; he said quietly,
+touching the bell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The little fellow sat up in bed, his breathing was hurried and anxious,
+his large eyes were fixed imploringly on the countess: &quot;Oh, mamma--dear
+mamma in Heaven--stay--don't go away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, if only I could--my child--how gladly I would stay here always.
+But I will come back again presently, I will only walk in the sunshine
+for half-an-hour.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I would like to go in the sunshine, too. Can't I go with you, and
+run about a little while?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not to-day, not until your cough is cured, my poor little boy! But
+I'll promise to talk and think of nothing but you until I return!
+Meanwhile Josepha shall wash and dress you, I don't understand
+that--Josepha can do it better.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! yes, I'm good enough for that!&quot; thought the girl, who heard the
+last words just as she entered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My beautiful mamma has been crying, because she is a bird and can't
+fly--&quot; said the child to Josepha with sorrowful sympathy. &quot;But you
+can't fly either--nor I till we are angels--then we can!&quot; He spread out
+his little arms like wings as if he longed to soar upward and away, but
+an attack of coughing made him sink back upon his pillows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The husband and wife looked at each other with the same sorrowful
+anxiety.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess bent over the little bed as if she would fain stifle with
+kisses the cough that racked the little chest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mamma, it doesn't hurt--you must not cry,&quot; said the boy, consolingly.
+&quot;There is a spider inside of my breast which tickles me--so I have to
+cough. But it will spin a big, big net of silver threads like those on
+the Christmas tree which will reach to Heaven, then I'll climb up on
+it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess could scarcely control her emotion. Freyer drew her hand
+through his arm and led her out into the dewy morning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are so anxious about our secret and yet, if <i>I</i> were not
+conscientious enough to help you guard it, you would betray yourself
+every moment, you are imprudent with the child, it is not for my own
+interest, but yours that I warn you. Do not allow your newly awakened
+maternal love to destroy your self-control in the boy's presence. Do
+not let him call you 'Mamma.' Poor mother--indeed I understand how this
+wounds you--but--it must be one thing or the other. If you cannot--or
+<i>will</i> not be a mother to the child--you <i>must</i> renounce this name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She bowed her head. &quot;You are as cruel as ever, though you are right!
+How can I maintain my self-control, when I hear such words from the
+child? What a child he is! Whenever I come, I marvel at his
+intellectual progress! If only it is natural, if only it is not the
+omen of an early death!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer pitied her anxiety,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is merely because the child is reared in solitude, associating
+solely with two sorrowing people, Josepha and myself; it is natural
+that his young soul should develop into a graver and more thoughtful
+character than other children,&quot; he said, consolingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They had gone out upon a dilapidated balcony, overgrown with vines and
+bushes. It was a beautiful morning, but the surrounding woods and the
+mouldering autumn leaves were white with hoar frost. Freyer wrapped the
+shivering woman in a cloak which he had taken with him. Under the cold
+breath of the bright fall morning, and her husband's cheering words,
+she gradually grew calm and regained her composure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But something must be done with the child,&quot; she said earnestly.
+&quot;Matters cannot go on so, he looks too ethereal.--I will send him to
+Italy with Josepha.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens, then I shall be entirely alone!&quot; said Freyer, with
+difficulty suppressing his dismay.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yet it must be,&quot; replied the countess firmly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How shall I endure it? The child was my all, my good angel--my light
+in darkness! Often his little hands have cooled my brow when the flames
+of madness were circling around it. Often his eyes, his features have
+again revealed your image clearly when, during a long separation, it
+had become blurred and distorted. While gazing at the child, the dear,
+beautiful child, I felt that nothing could sever this sacred bond. The
+mother of this boy could not desert her husband--for the sake of this
+child she must love me! I said to myself, and learned to trust, to
+hope, once more. And now I am to part from him. Oh, God!--Thy judgment
+is severe. Thou didst send an angel to comfort Thy divine son on the
+Mount of Olives--Thou dost take him from me! Yet not my will, but
+Thine, be done!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He bent his head sadly: &quot;If it must be, take him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The child is ill, I have kept him shut up in these damp rooms too
+long, he needs sunshine and milder air. If he were obliged to spend
+another winter in this cold climate, it would be his death. But if it
+is so hard for you to be separated from the boy--go with him. I will
+hire a villa for you and Josepha somewhere on the Riviera. It will do
+you good, too, to leave this nook hidden among the woods--and I cannot
+shelter you here in Bavaria where every one knows you, without
+betraying our relation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer gazed at her with a mournful smile: &quot;And you think--that I would
+go?&quot; He shook his head. &quot;No, I cannot make it so easy for you. We are
+still husband and wife, I am still yours, as you are mine. And though
+you so rarely come to me--if during the whole winter there was but a
+single hour when you needed a heart, you must find your husband's, I
+must be here!&quot; He drew her gently to his breast. &quot;No, my wife, it would
+have been a comfort, if I could have kept the child--but if you must
+take him from me, I will bear this, too, like everything which comes
+from your hand, be it life or death--nothing shall part me from you,
+not even love for my boy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was something indescribable in the expression with which he gazed
+at her as he uttered the simple words, and she clung to him overwhelmed
+by such unexampled fidelity, which thus sacrificed the only, the last
+blessing he possessed for a <i>single</i> hour with her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My husband--my kind, noble husband! The most generous heart in all the
+world!&quot; she cried, caressing him again and again as she gazed
+rapturously at the beautiful face, so full of dignity: &quot;You shall not
+make the sacrifice for a single hour, your wife will come and reward
+your loyalty with a thousand-fold greater love. Often--often. Perhaps
+oftener than ever! For I feel that the present condition of affairs
+cannot last. I must be permitted to be wife and mother--I realized
+to-day at the bedside of my child that my <i>guilt</i>, too, was growing
+year by year. It is time for me to atone. When I return home I will
+seriously consider what can be done to make an arrangement with my
+relatives! I need not confess that I am already married--I could say
+that I might marry if they would pay me a sufficient sum, but I would
+<i>not</i> do so, if they refused me the means to live in a style which
+befitted my rank. Then they will probably prefer to make a sacrifice
+which would enable me to marry, thereby giving them the whole property,
+rather than to compel me, by their avarice, to remain a widow and keep
+the entire fortune. That would be a capital idea! Do you see how
+inventive love is?&quot; she said with charming coquetry, expecting his
+joyful assent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But he turned away with clouded brow--it seemed as though an icy wind
+had suddenly swept over the whole sunny landscape, transforming
+everything into a wintry aspect.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Falsehood and deception everywhere--even in the most sacred things.
+When I hear you speak so, my heart shrinks! So noble a woman as you to
+stoop to falsehood and deceit, like one of the basest!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess stood motionless, with downcast lids, shame and pride were
+both visible on her brow. Her heart, too, shrank, and an icy chill
+encompassed it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And what better proposal would you make?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None!&quot; said Freyer in a low tone, &quot;for the only one I could suggest
+you would not accept. It would be to atone for the wrong you have
+committed, frankly confess how everything happened, and then retire
+with your husband and child into solitude and live plainly, but
+honestly. The world would laugh at you, it is true, but the
+noble-hearted would honor you. I cannot imagine that any moral
+happiness is to be purchased by falsehood and deceit--there is but one
+way which leads to God--the way of truth--every other is delusive!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The beautiful woman gazed at him in involuntary admiration. This was
+the inward majesty by which the lowly man had formerly so awed her; and
+deeply as he shamed and wounded her, she bowed to this grandeur. Yet
+she could no longer bear his gaze, she felt humbled before him, her
+pleasure in his companionship was destroyed. She stood before the man
+whom she believed so far beneath her, like a common criminal, convicted
+of the most petty falsehood, the basest treachery. She fairly loathed
+herself. Where was there anything to efface this brand? Where was the
+pride which could raise her above this disgrace? In her consciousness
+of rank? Woe betide her, what would her peers say if they knew her
+position? Would she not be cast out from every circle? What was there
+which would again restore her honor? She knew no dignity, no honor save
+those which the world bestows, and to save them, at any cost and by any
+means--she sank still lower in her own eyes and those of the poor, but
+honorable man who had more cause to be ashamed of her than she of him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She must return home, she must again see her palace, her servants, her
+world, in order to believe that she was still herself, that the ground
+was still firm under her feet, for everything in and around her was
+wavering.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Please order the horses to be harnessed!&quot; she said, turning toward the
+half ruined door through which they had come out of the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It had indeed grown dull and cold. A pallid autumnal fog was shrouding
+the forest. It looked doubtful whether it was going to rain or snow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have the open carriage--I should like to get home before it rains,&quot;
+she said, apologetically, without looking at him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer courteously opened the heavy ancient iron door. They walked
+silently along a dark, cold, narrow passage to the door of the boy's
+room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will go and have the horses harnessed,&quot; said Freyer, and the
+countess entered the chamber.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She took an absent leave of the child. She did not notice how he
+trembled at the news that she was going home, she did not hear him
+plead: &quot;Take me with you!&quot; She comforted him as usual with the promise
+that she would soon come again, and beckoned Josepha out of the room.
+The boy gazed after her with the expression of a dying roe, and a few
+large tears rolled down his pale cheeks. The mother saw it, but she
+could not remain, her stay here was over for that day. Outside she
+informed Josepha of the plan of sending her and the child to Italy, but
+the latter shook her head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The child needs nothing but its mother,&quot; she said, pitilessly, &quot;it
+longs only for <i>you</i>, and if you send it still farther away, it will
+die.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess stood as if sentenced.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When you are with him, he revives, and when you have gone, he droops
+like a flower without the sun!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh Heaven!&quot; moaned the countess, pressing her clasped hands to her
+brow: &quot;What is to be done!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you could take the boy, it would be the best cure. The child need's
+a mother's love; that would be more beneficial to him than all the
+travelling in the world. You have no idea how he clings to his mother.
+It really seems as if you had bewitched him. All day long he wears
+himself out listening and watching for the roll of the carriage, and
+when evening comes and the hour that you usually drive up arrives, his
+little hands are burning with fever from expectation. And then he sees
+how his father longs for you. A child like him notices everything and,
+when his father is sad, he is sorrowful, too. 'She is not coming
+to-day!' he said a short time ago, stroking his father's cheek; he knew
+perfectly well what troubled him. A delicate little body like his is
+soon worn out by constant yearning. Every kid, every fawn, cries for
+its mother. Here in the woods I often hear the young deer, whose mother
+has been shot, wail and cry all night long, and must not a child who
+has sense and affection long for its mother? You sit in your beautiful
+rooms at home and don't hear how up here in this dreary house with us
+two melancholy people, the poor child asks for the mother who is his
+all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Josepha, you will kill me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess clung to the door-post for support, her brain fairly
+whirled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I shall not kill you, Countess, I only want to prevent your
+killing the child,&quot; said Josepha with flaming eyes. &quot;Do you suppose
+that, if I could supply a mother's place to the boy, I would beg you
+for what is every child's right, and which every mother who has a
+mother's heart in her breast would give of her own accord? Certainly
+not. I would <i>steal</i> the child's heart, which you are starving--ere I
+would give you one kind word, and you might beg in vain for your son's
+love, as I now beseech his mother's for him. But the poor little fellow
+knows very well who his mother is, and no matter what I do--he will not
+accept me! That is why I tell you just how matters are. Do what you
+choose with me--I no longer fear anything--if the child cannot be saved
+I am done with the world! You know me--and know that I set no value on
+life. You have made it no dearer to me than it was when we first met.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Just at that moment the door opened and a small white figure appeared.
+The boy had heard Josepha's passionate tone and came to his mother's
+assistance: &quot;Mamma, my dear mamma in Heaven, what is she doing to you?
+She shan't hurt you. Wicked mamma Josepha, that's why I don't like you,
+you are always scolding the beautiful, kind lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He threw his little arm around his mother's neck, as if to protect her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, you angel!&quot; cried the countess, lifting him in her arms to press
+him to her heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The rattle of wheels was heard outside--the countess' four horses were
+coming. To keep the fiery animals waiting was impossible. Freyer
+hastily announced the carriage, the horses were very unruly that day.
+The countess gave the boy to Josepha's care. Freyer silently helped her
+into the equipage, everything passed like a flash of lightning for the
+horses were already starting--one gloomy glace was exchanged between
+the husband and wife--the farewell of strangers--and away dashed the
+light vehicle through the autumn mists. The mother fancied she heard
+her boy weeping as she drove off, and felt as if Josepha had convicted
+her of the murder of the child. But she would atone for it--some
+day--soon! It seemed as if a voice within was crying aloud: &quot;My child,
+my child!&quot; An icy moisture stood in drops upon her brow; was it the
+sweat of anxiety, or dew? She did not know, she could no longer think,
+she was sinking under all the anxieties which had pressed upon her that
+day. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the carriage as if
+fainting, while the horses rushed swiftly on with their light burden
+toward their goal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The hours flew past. The equipage drove up to the Wildenau palace, but
+she was scarcely conscious of it. All sorts of plans and resolutions
+were whirling through her brain. She was assisted from the carriage and
+ascended the carpeted marble stairs. Two letters were lying on the
+table in her boudoir. The prince had been there and left one, a note,
+which contained only the words: &quot;You will perceive that at the present
+time you <i>dare</i> not refuse this position.</p>
+
+<p class="right">&quot;<i>The friend who means most kindly</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The other letter, in a large envelope, was an official document.
+Countess Wildenau had been appointed mistress of ceremonies!</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>UNACCOUNTABLE</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">A moment--and a turning point in a life!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess was &quot;herself&quot; again, as she called it. &quot;Thank God!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Ammergau episode--with all its tragic consequences--belonged to the
+past. To-day, under the emotional impressions and external
+circumstances at that luckless castle, where everything conspired
+against her, she had thought seriously of breaking with her traditions
+and the necessities of life, faced the thought of poverty and shame so
+boldly that this appointment to the highest position at court saved her
+from the gulf of ruin. Stopped at the last moment, tottering, giddy,
+the startled woman sought to find a firm footing once more. She felt
+like a suicide, who is not really in earnest, and rejoices when some
+one prevents his design.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She stood holding the document in her hand. This was truth, reality,
+the necessity for self-destruction was imagination. The disgrace whose
+brand she already felt upon her brow could no longer approach her!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She set her foot upon the shaggy skin of a lion--the earth did not yet
+reel beneath her. She pressed her burning brow against a slender marble
+column--this, too, was still firm! She passed her slender fingers over
+the silk plush of the divan on which she reclined and rejoiced that it
+was still hers. Her eye, intoxicated with beauty, wandered over the
+hundreds of art-treasures, pictures and statues from every land with
+which she had adorned her rooms--nothing was lacking. Upon a pedestal
+stood the Apollo Belvedere, whose pure marble glowed warmly in a
+sunbeam shining through red curtains, as if real blood were circulating
+in the stone. The wondrous face smiled in divine repose upon the motley
+array, which the art and industry of centuries had garnered here.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The past and the present here closed their bewitching chain. Yonder
+stood a Venus de Milo, revealing to the charming owner the majesty of
+her own beauty. In a corner filled with flowers, a bathing nymph, by a
+modern master, timidly concealed herself. In a Gothic niche a dying
+Christ closed his eyes to the splendor of the world and the senses.
+It was a Christ after the manner of Gabriel Max, which opened and
+shut its eyes. Not far away the portrait of the countess, painted
+with the genius of Lenbach stood forth from the dark frame--the
+type of a drawing-room blossom. Clad in a soft white robe of Oriental
+stuff embroidered with gold, heavy enough to cling closely to the
+figure--flight enough to float away so far as to reveal all that
+fashion and propriety permitted to be seen of the beauty of a wonderful
+neck and arm. And, as Lenbach paints not only the outward form but the
+inward nature, a tinge of melancholy, of yearning and thoughtfulness
+rested upon the fair face, which made the beholder almost forget the
+beauty of the form in that of the soul, while gazing into the spiritual
+eyes which seemed to seek some other home than this prosaic earth. Just
+in the direction of her glance, Hermes, the messenger of death, bent
+his divine face from a group of palms and dried grasses. It seemed as
+if she beheld all these things for the first time--as if they had been
+newly given back to her that day after she had believed them lost. Her
+breath almost failed at the thought that she had been on the point of
+resigning it all--and for what? All these treasures of immortal beauty
+and art--for a weeping child and a surly man, who loved in her only the
+housewife, which any maid-servant can be, but understood what she
+really was, what really constituted her dignity and charm no more than
+he would comprehend Lenbach's picture, which reflected to her her own
+person transfigured and ennobled. She gazed at herself with proud
+satisfaction. Should such a woman sacrifice herself to a man who
+scarcely knew the meaning of beauty! Destroy herself for an illusion of
+the imagination? She rang the bell--she felt the necessity of ordering
+something, to be sure that she was still mistress of the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lackey entered. &quot;Your Highness?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thank Heaven! Her servants still obeyed her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Send over to the Barnheim Palace, and invite the Prince to dine with
+me at six. Then serve lunch.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well. Has Your Highness any other orders?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The maid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Your Highness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man left the room with the noiseless, solemn step of a well-trained
+lackey.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How can any one live without servants?&quot; the countess asked herself,
+looking after him. &quot;What should I have done, if I had dismissed mine?&quot;
+She shuddered. Now that regal luxury again surrounded her she was a
+different person from this morning. No doubt she still felt what she
+had suffered that day, but only as we dimly, after waking from a
+fevered dream, realize the tortures we have endured.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some one knocked, and the maid entered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will take a bath before lunch. I feel very ill. Pour a bottle of
+<i>vinaigre de Bouilli</i> into the water. I will come directly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The maid disappeared.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Everything still went on like clock-work. Nothing had changed--no one
+noticed what she had <i>almost</i> done that day. The struggle was over. The
+royal order, which it would have been madness to oppose, had determined
+her course.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But her nerves were still quivering from the experiences of the day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The child, if only she were not hampered by the child! That was the
+only thing which would not allow her to breathe freely--it was her own
+flesh and blood. That was the wound in her heart which could never be
+healed. She would always long for the boy--as he would for her. Yet,
+what did this avail, nothing could be changed, she must do what reason
+and necessity required. At least for the present; nay, there was even
+something beautiful in a sorrow borne with aristocratic dignity! By the
+depth of the wound, we proudly measure the depth of our own hearts.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She pleased herself with the idea of doing the honors as mistress of
+ceremonies to kings and emperors, while yearning in the depths of
+her soul for a poor orphaned child, the son of the proud Countess
+Wildenau--whose husband was a peasant. Only a nature of the elasticity
+of Madeleine von Wildenau's could sink so low and yet soar so high,
+without losing its equilibrium.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">These were the oscillations which Ludwig Gross once said were necessary
+to such natures--though their radii passed through the lowest gulfs of
+human misery to the opposite heights. Coquetry is not only cruel to
+others, but to itself--in the physical tortures which it endures for
+the sake of an uncomfortable fashion, and the spiritual ones with which
+it pays for its triumphs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the case with the countess. During her first unhappy marriage
+she had learned to control the most despairing moods and be &quot;amusing&quot;
+with an aching heart. What marvel that she deemed it a matter of course
+that she must subdue the gnawing grief of her maternal love. So she
+coquetted even with suffering and found pleasure in bearing it
+gracefully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She sat down at her writing-desk, crowned with Canova's group of Cupid
+and Psyche, and wrote:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My dear husband! In my haste I can only inform you that I shall be
+unable to come out immediately to arrange Josepha's journey. I have
+been appointed mistress of ceremonies to the queen and must obey the
+summons. Meanwhile, let Josepha prepare for the trip, I will send the
+directions for the journey and the money to-day. Give the boy my love,
+kiss him for me, and comfort him with the promise that I will visit him
+in the Riviera when I can. Amid the new scenes he will soon forget me
+and cease waiting and expecting. The Southern climate will benefit his
+health, and we shall have all the more pleasure in him afterward. He
+must remain there at least a year to regain his strength.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I write hastily, for many business matters and ceremonies must be
+settled within the next few days. It is hard for me to accept this
+position, which binds me still more closely in the fetters I was on the
+eve of stripping off! But to make the king and queen my enemies at the
+very moment when I need powerful friends more than ever, would be
+defying fate! It will scarcely be possible for me now to come out as
+often as I promised you to-day. But, if you become too lonely, you
+can occasionally come in as my 'steward,' ostensibly to bring me
+reports--in this way we shall see each other and I will give orders
+that the steward shall be admitted to me at any time, and have a
+suitable office and apartments assigned to him 'as I shall now be
+unable to look after the estates so much myself.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I cannot receive you at once, you will wait in your room until your
+wife, freed from the restraint and duties of the day, will fly to your
+arms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is not this admirably arranged? Are you at last satisfied, you
+discontented man?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You see that I am doing all that is possible! Only do not be angry
+with me because I also do what reason demands. I must secure to my
+child the solid foundations of a safe and well-ordered existence, since
+we must not, for the sake of sentiment, aimlessly shatter our own
+destiny. How would it benefit the sick child if I denounced myself and
+was compelled to give up the whole of my private fortune to compensate
+my first husband's relatives for what I have spent illegally since
+my second marriage? I could not even do anything more for my son's
+health, and should be forced to see him pine away in some mountain
+hamlet--perhaps Ammergau itself, whither I should wander with my
+household goods and you, like some vagrant's family. The boys there
+would stone him and call him in mockery, the 'little Count.' The
+snow-storms would lash him and completely destroy his delicate lungs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, if I did not fear poverty for <i>myself</i>, I must do so for <i>you</i>.
+How would you endure to have the Ammergau people--and where else could
+you find employment--point their fingers at you and say: 'Look, that is
+Freyer, who ran away with a countess! He did a fine thing'--and then
+laugh jeeringly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My Joseph! Keep your love for me, and let me have judgment for you,
+then all will be well. In love,</p>
+<p style="text-indent:60%"><span class="sc">Your M</span>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She did not suspect, when she ended her letter, very well satisfied
+with her dialectics, that Freyer after reading it would throw the torn
+fragments on the floor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This cold, frivolous letter--this change from the mood of
+yesterday--this act after all her promises! He had again been deceived
+and disappointed, again hoped and believed in vain. All, all on which
+he had relied was destroyed, the moral elevation of his beloved wife,
+which would at last restore to her husband and child their sacred
+rights--was a lie, and instead, by way of compensation, came the
+offer--of the position of a lover.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was to seek his wife under the cover of the darkness, as a man seeks
+his inamorata--he, her husband, the father of her child! &quot;No, Countess,
+the steward will not steal into your castle, in order when you have
+enjoyed all the pleasures of the day, to afford you the excitement of a
+stolen intrigue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Though the scorn and derision of the people of my native village would
+wound me sorely, as you believe--I would rather work with them as a
+day-laborer, than to play before your lackeys the part which you assign
+me.&quot; This was his only answer. He was well aware that it would elicit
+only a shrug of the shoulders, and a pitying smile, but he could not
+help it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was evening when the countess' letter reached him, and while, by the
+dim light of the hanging lamp, in mortal anguish he composed at the
+bedside of the feverish child this clumsy and unfortunately mis-spelled
+reply, the folding-doors of the brilliantly lighted dining-room in the
+Wildenau palace, were thrown open and the prince offered his arm to the
+countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She was her brilliant self again. She had taken a perfumed bath,
+answered the royal letter, made several sketches for new court costumes
+and sent them to Paris.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She painted with unusual skill, and the little water-color figures
+which she sent to her modistes, were real works of art, far superior to
+those in the fashion journals.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your Highness might earn your bread in this way&quot;--said the maid
+flatteringly, and a strange thrill stirred the countess at these words.
+She had made herself a costume book, in which she had painted all the
+toilettes she had worn since her entrance into society, and often found
+amusement in turning the leaves; what memories the sight of the old
+clothes evoked! From the heavy silver wrought brocade train of old
+Count Wildenau's young bride, down to the airy little summer gown which
+she had worn nine years ago in Ammergau. From the stiff, regulation
+court costume down to the simple woolen morning gown in which she had
+that morning spent hours of torture on account of that Ammergau
+&quot;delusion.&quot; But at the maid's words she shut the book as if startled
+and rose: &quot;I will give you the dress I wore this morning, but on
+condition that I never see it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your Highness is too kind, I thank you most humbly,&quot; said the
+delighted woman, kissing the sleeve of the countess' combing-mantle--she
+would not have ventured to kiss her hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The dinner toilette was quickly completed, and when the countess looked
+in the glass she seemed to herself more beautiful than ever. The
+melancholy expression around her eyes, and a slight trace of tears
+which she had shed, lent the pale tea-rose a tinge of color which was
+marvellously becoming.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The day was over, and when the prince came to dinner at six o'clock she
+received him with all her former charm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To whom do I owe this--Prince?&quot; she said smiling, holding out the
+official letter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why do you ask me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because <i>you</i> only can tell!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, you. Who else would have proposed me to their Majesties? Don't
+try to deceive me by that air of innocence. I don't trust it. You, and
+no one else would do me this friendly service, for everything good
+comes through you. You are not only a great and powerful man--you are
+also a good and noble one--my support, my Providence! I thank you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She took both his hands in hers and offered him her forehead to kiss,
+with a glance of such sincere admiration and gratitude, that in his
+surprise and joy he almost missed the permitted goal and touched her
+lips instead. But fortunately, he recollected himself and almost
+timidly pressed the soft curls which quivered lightly like the delicate
+tendrils of flowers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot resist this gratitude! Yes, my august cousin, the queen, did
+have the grace to consider my proposal as 'specially agreeable' to her.
+But, my dear Countess, you must have been passing through terrible
+experiences to lavish such undue gratitude upon the innocent instigator
+of such a trifle as this appointment as mistress of ceremonies, for
+whose acceptance we must be grateful to you. There is a touch of almost
+timidity in your manner, my poor Madeleine, as if you had lost the
+self-control which, with all your feminine grace, gave your bearing so
+firm a poise. You do yourself injustice. You must shake off this
+oppression. That is why I ventured to push the hands of the clock of
+life a little and secured this position, which will leave you no time
+for torturing yourself with fancies. That is what you need most.
+Unfortunately I cannot lift from those beautiful shoulders the burden
+you yourself have probably laid upon them; but I will aid you
+gradually, to strip it off.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The world in which you are placed needs you--you must live for it and
+ought not to withdraw your powers, your intellect, your charm. You are
+created for a lofty position! I do not mean a subordinate one--that of
+a mistress of ceremonies. This is merely a temporary palliative--I mean
+that of a reigning princess, who has to provide for the physical and
+intellectual welfare of a whole nation. When in your present office you
+have become reconciled to the world and its conditions--perhaps the day
+will come when I shall be permitted to offer you that higher place!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess stood with her hands resting on the table and her eyes
+bent on the floor. Her heart was throbbing violently--her breath was
+short and hurried. <i>One</i> thought whirled through her brain. &quot;You might
+have had all this and forfeited it forever!&quot; The consciousness of her
+marred destiny overwhelmed her with all its power. What a contrast
+between the prince, the perfect product of culture, who took into
+account all the demands of her rank and character, and the narrow,
+limited child of nature, her husband, who found cause for reproach in
+everything which the trained man of the world regarded as a matter of
+course. Freyer tortured her and humbled her in her own eyes, while the
+prince tenderly cherished her. Freyer--like the embodiment of Christian
+asceticism--required from her everything she disliked while Prince Emil
+desired nothing save to see her beautiful, happy, and admired, and made
+it her duty to enjoy life as suited her education and tastes! She would
+fain have thrown herself exultingly into the arms of her preserver and
+said: &quot;Take me and bear me up again on the waves of life ere I fall
+into the power of that gloomy God whose power is nurtured on the blood
+of the murdered joys of His followers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Suddenly it seemed as if some one else was in the room gazing intently
+at her. She looked up--the eyes of the Christ in the Gothic niche were
+bent fixedly on her. &quot;Are you looking at me again?&quot; asked a voice in
+her terror-stricken soul. &quot;Can you never die?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was even so; He could not die on the cross, He cannot die in her
+heart. Even though it was but a moment that He appeared to mortal eyes
+in the Passion Play, He will live for ever to all who experienced that
+moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her uplifted arms fell as if paralyzed, and she faltered in broken
+sentences: &quot;Not another word, Prince--in Heaven's name--do not lead me
+into temptation. Banish every thought of me--you do not know--oh! I was
+never worthy of you, have never recognized all your worth--and now when
+I do--now it is too late.&quot; She could say no more, tears were trembling
+on her lashes. She again glanced timidly at the painted Christ--He had
+now closed His eyes. His expression was more peaceful.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince gazed at her earnestly, but quietly. &quot;Ah, there is a false
+standpoint which must be removed. It will cost something, I see. Calm
+yourself--you have nothing more to fear from me--I was awkward--it was
+not the proper moment, I ought to have known it. Do you remember our
+conversation nine years ago, on the way to the Passion Play? At that
+time a phantom stood between us. It has since assumed a tangible form,
+has it not? I saw this coming, but unfortunately could not avert it.
+But consider--it is and will always remain--a phantom! Such spectres
+can be fatal only to eccentric imaginative women like you who, in
+addition to imagination, also possess a strongly idealistic tendency
+which impresses an ethical meaning upon everything they feel. With a
+nature like yours things which, in and of themselves, are nothing
+except romantic episodes, assume the character of moral conflicts in
+which you always feel that you are the guilty ones because you were the
+superior and have taken a more serious view of certain relations than
+they deserved.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes! That is it. Oh, Prince--you understand me better than any
+one else!&quot; exclaimed the countess, admiringly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, and because I understand you better than any one else, I love you
+better than any one else--that is the inevitable consequence. Therefore
+it would be a pity, if I were obliged to yield to that phantom--for
+never were two human beings so formed for each other as we.&quot; He was
+silent, Madeleine had not heard the last words. In her swift variations
+of mood reacting with every changing impression, a different feeling
+had been evoked by the word &quot;phantom&quot; and the memories it awakened.
+Even the cleverest man cannot depend upon a woman. The phantom again
+stood between them--conjured up by himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As if by magic, the Kofel with its glittering cross rose before her,
+and opposite at her right hand the glimmering sunbeams stole up the
+cliff till, like shining fingers, they rested on a face whose like she
+had never seen--the eyes, dark yet sparkling, like the night when the
+star led the kings to the child in the manger! There he stood again,
+the One so long imagined, so long desired.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And her enraptured eyes said: &quot;Throughout the whole world I have
+sought you alone.&quot; And his replied: &quot;And I you!&quot; And was this to be a
+lie--this to vanish? It seemed as if Heaven had opened its gates and
+suffered her to look in, and was all this to be delusion? The panorama
+of memory moved farther on, leading her past the dwellings of the high
+priest and apostles in Ammergau to the moonlit street where her ear,
+listening reverently, caught the words: This is where Christus lives!
+And she stood still with gasping breath, trembling with expectation of
+the approach of God.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then the following day--the great day which brought the fulfilment of
+the mighty yearning when she beheld this face &quot;from which the God so
+long sought smiled upon her!&quot; The God whom she had come to seek, to
+confess! What! Could she deny, resign this God, in whose wounds she had
+laid her fingers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again she stood in timid reverence, with a glowing heart, while before
+her hovered the pierced, bleeding hand--Heaven and earth turned upon
+the question whether she dared venture to press her lips upon the
+stigma; she did venture, almost swooning from the flood of her
+feelings--and lo, in the kiss the quivering lips felt the throbbing of
+the warm awakening life in the hand of the stern &quot;God,&quot; and a feeling
+of exultation stirred within her, &quot;You belong to me! I will steal you
+from the whole human race.&quot; And now, scarcely nine years later--must
+the joy vanish, the God disappear, the faith die? What a miserable,
+variable creature is man!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dinner is served, and Baron St. Génois has called--shall I prepare
+another place?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess started from her reverie--had she been asleep where she
+stood? Where was she?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lackey was obliged to repeat the announcement and the question. A
+visitor now? She would rather die--yet Baron St. Génois was an intimate
+friend, he could come to dinner whenever he pleased--he was not to be
+sent away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She nodded assent to the servant. Her emotions were repressed and
+scattered, her throbbing heart sank feebly back to its usual
+pulsation--pallid despair whispered: &quot;Give up the struggle--you cannot
+be saved!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A few minutes after the little party were celebrating in the
+brilliantly lighted dining-room in sparkling sack the &quot;event of the
+day,&quot; the appointment of the new mistress of ceremonies.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>FALLING STARS</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The new mistress of ceremonies isn't popular.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Countess Wildenau is said to have fallen into disgrace already; she
+did not ride in the queen's carriage at the recent great parade.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is perfectly natural. It was to be expected, when a lady so
+unaccustomed to put any constraint upon herself as Countess Wildenau
+was appointed to such a position.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She is said to make constant blunders. If she chooses, she keeps the
+queen and the whole court waiting. She is reported to have arrived at
+court fifteen minutes too late a short time ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And to have forgotten to present a number of ladies.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;People are indignant with her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Poor woman, she takes infinite trouble, but the place is not a
+suitable one for her--she is absent-minded and makes mistakes, which
+are unpardonable in a mistress of ceremonies.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, if the queen's cousin, the Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim
+did not uphold her, the queen would have dropped her long ago. She is
+seen at court only when she is acting as representative. She has not
+succeeded in establishing personal relations with Her Majesty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Such, at the end of a few months, were the opinions of society, and
+they were just.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It seemed as though the curse of those whom she had deserted, rested
+upon her--do what she would, she had no success in this position.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As on the mountain peak towering into the upper air, every warm current
+condenses into a cloud, so in the cool, transparent atmosphere of very
+lofty and conspicuous positions the faintest breath of secret struggles
+and passions seems to condense into masses of clouds which often gather
+darkly around the most brilliant personalities, veiling their traits.
+The passionate, romantic impulse, which was constantly at war with the
+aristocratic birth and education of the countess, was one of those
+currents which unconsciously and involuntarily must enter as an alien
+element in the crystalline clearness of these peaks of society.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the explanation of the mystery that the countess, greatly
+admired in private life and always a welcome guest at court, could not
+fill an official position successfully. The slight cloud which, in her
+private life, only served to surround her with a halo of romance which
+rendered the free independent woman of rank doubly interesting, was
+absolutely unendurable in a lady of the court representing her
+sovereign! There everything must be clear, calm, official. The
+impersonal element of royalty, as it exists in our day, specially in
+the women of reigning houses, will not permit any individuality to make
+itself prominent near the throne. All passionate emotions and
+peculiarities are abhorrent, because, even in individuals, they are
+emanations of the seething popular elements which sovereigns must at
+once rule and fear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Countess Wildenau's constant excitement, restless glances, absence
+of mind, and feverish alternations of mood unconsciously expressed
+the vengeance of the spirit of the common people insisted in her
+husband--and the queen, in her subtle sensibility, therefore had a
+secret timidity and aversion to the new mistress of ceremonies which
+she could not conquer. Thus the first mists in the atmosphere near the
+throne arose, the vapors gathered into clouds--but the clouds were seen
+by the keen-eyed public--as the sun of royal favor vanished behind
+them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It is far better never to have been prominent than to be forced to
+retire. The countess was a great lady, whose power seemed immovable and
+unassailable, so long as she lived independently--now it was seen that
+she was on the verge of a downfall! And now there was no occasion for
+further consideration of the woman hitherto so much envied. Vengeance
+could fearlessly be taken upon her for always having handsomer
+toilettes, giving better dinners, attracting more admirers--and being
+allowed to do unpunished what would be unpardonable in others.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A woman who is continually occupied with herself cannot be mistress of
+ceremonies, I see that clearly,&quot; she said one day to the prince. &quot;If
+any position requires self-denial, it is this. And self-denial has
+never been my forte. I ought to have known that before accepting the
+place. People imagine that the court would be the very field where the
+seeds of egotism would flourish most abundantly! It is not true;
+whoever wishes to reap for himself should remain aloof, only the utmost
+unselfishness, the most rigid fulfilment of duty can exist there. But
+I, Prince, am a spoiled, ill-trained creature, who learned nothing
+during the few years of my unhappy marriage save to hate constraint and
+shun pain! What is to be done with such a useless mortal?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Love her,&quot; replied Prince Emil, as quietly as if he were speaking of a
+game of chess, &quot;and see that she is placed in a position where she need
+not obey, but merely command. Natures created to rule should not serve!
+The pebble is destined to pave the path of daily life--the diamond to
+sparkle. Who would upbraid the latter because it serves no other
+purpose? Its value lies in itself, but only connoisseurs know how to
+prize it!&quot; Thus her friend always consoled her and strengthened her
+natural tendencies. But where men are too indulgent to us, destiny is
+all the more severe--this is the amends for the moral sins of society,
+the equalization of the undeserved privileges of individuals compared
+with the sad fate of thousands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Prince Emil's efforts could not succeed in soothing the pangs of
+Madeleine von Wildenau's conscience--for he did not know the full
+extent of her guilt. If he knew all, she would lose him, too.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha took care to torture the mother's heart by the reports sent
+from Italy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer was silent. Since that bitter letter, which he wrote, she had
+heard nothing more from him. He had hidden himself in his solitary
+retreat as a sick lion seeks the depths of its cave, and she dared not
+go to him there, though a secret yearning often made her start from her
+sleep with her husband's name on her lips, and tears in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In addition to this she was troubled by Herr Wildenau, who was becoming
+still more urgent in his offers to purchase the hunting-castle, and
+often made strangely significant remarks, as though he was on the track
+of some discovery. The child with the treacherous resemblance was far
+away--but if this man was watching--<i>that</i> fact itself might attract
+his notice because it dated from the day when he made the first
+allusions. She lay awake many nights pondering over this mystery, but
+could not discover what had given him the clew to her secret. She did
+not suspect that it was the child himself who, in an unwatched moment,
+had met the curious stranger and made fatal answers to his cunning
+questions, telling him of &quot;the beautiful lady who came to see 'Goth'
+who had been God--in Ammergau! And that he loved the beautiful lady
+dearly--much better than Mother Josepha!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Question and answer were easy, but the inference was equally so. It was
+evident to the inquisitor that a relation existed here quite
+compromising enough to serve as a handle against the countess, if the
+exact connection could be discovered. Cousin Wildenau and his brother
+resolved from that day forth to watch the countess' mysterious actions
+sharply--this was the latest and most interesting sport of the
+disinherited branch of the Wildenau family.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the game they were pursuing had a powerful protector in the prince,
+they must work slowly and cautiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At court also it was his influence which sustained her. The queen, out
+of consideration for him, showed the utmost patience in dealing with
+the countess spite of her total absence of sympathy with her. Thus the
+unfortunate woman lived in constant uncertainty. Her soul was filled
+with bitterness by the experiences she now endured. She felt like
+dagger thrusts the malevolence, the contempt with which she had been
+treated since the sun of royal favor had grown dim. She lost her
+self-command, and no longer knew what she was doing. Her pride
+rebelled. A Wildenau, a Princess von Prankenberg, need not tolerate
+such treatment! Her usual graciousness deserted her and, in its place,
+she assumed a cold, haughty scorn, which she even displayed while
+performing the duties of her office, and thereby still more incensed
+every one against her. Persons, whom she ought to have honored she
+ignored. Gradations of rank and lists of noble families, the alpha and
+omega of a mistress of ceremonies, were never in her mind. People
+entitled to the first position were relegated to the third, and similar
+blunders were numerous. Complaints and annoyances of all kinds poured
+in, and at a state dinner in honor of the visit of a royal prince, she
+was compelled to endure, in the presence of the whole court, a rebuke
+from the queen who specially distinguished a person whom she had
+slighted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This dinner became fateful to her. Wherever she turned, she beheld
+triumphant or sarcastic smiles--wherever she approached a group,
+conversation ceased with the marked suddenness which does not seek to
+conceal that the new-comer has been the subject of the talk. Nay, she
+often encountered a glance which seemed to say: &quot;Why do you still
+linger among us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It happened also that the prince had been summoned to Cannes by his
+father's illness and was not at hand to protect her. She had hoped that
+he would return in time for the dinner, but he did not come. She was
+entirely deserted. A few compassionate souls, like the kind-hearted
+duchess whom she met at the Passion Play, her ladies-in-waiting, and
+some maids of honor, joined her, but she felt in their graciousness a
+pity which humbled her more than all the insults. And her friends! The
+gentlemen who belonged to the circle of her intimate acquaintances had
+for some time adopted a more familiar tone, as if to imply that she
+must accept whatever they choose to offer. She was no longer even
+beautiful--a pallid, grief-worn face, with hollow eyes gazing
+hopelessly into vacancy, found no admirers in this circle. And as every
+look, every countenance wore a hostile expression, her own image gazed
+reproachfully at her from the mirror, the dazzling fair neck with its
+marvellous contours, supported a head whose countenance was weary and
+prematurely aged. &quot;It is all over with you!&quot; cried the mirror! &quot;It
+is all over with you!&quot; smiled the lips of society. &quot;It is all over
+with you, you may be glad if we still come to your dinners!&quot; the
+wine-scented breath of her former intimate friends insultingly near her
+seemed to whisper.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Was this the world, to which she had sacrificed her heart and
+conscience? Was this the honor for which she hourly suffered tortures.
+And on the wintry mountain height the husband who had naught on earth
+save the paltry scrap of love she bestowed, was perishing--she had
+avoided him for months because to her he represented that uncomfortable
+Christianity whose asceticism has survived the civilization of
+thousands of years. Yes! This christianity of the Nazarene who walked
+the earth so humbly in a laborer's garb is the friend of the despised
+and humbled. It asks no questions about crowns and the favor of courts,
+human power and distinction. And she who had trembled and sinned for
+the wretched illusions, the glitter of the honors of this brief
+life--was she to despise a morality which, in its beggar's garb, stands
+high above all for which the greatest and most powerful tremble?
+Again the symbol of the renewed bond between God and the world--the
+cross--rose before her, and on it hung the body of the Redeemer,
+radiant in its chaste, divine beauty--that body which for <i>her</i>
+descended from the cross where it hung for the whole world and, after
+clasping it in her arms, she repined because it was only the <i>image</i> of
+what no earthly desire will ever attain, no matter how many human
+hearts glow with the flames of love so long as the world endures.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My Christus--my sacrificed husband!&quot; cried a voice in her heart so
+loudly that she did not hear a question from the queen. &quot;It is
+incredible!&quot; some one exclaimed angrily near her. She started from her
+reverie. &quot;Your Majesty?&quot; The queen had already passed on, without
+waiting for a reply--whispers and nods ran through the circle, every
+eye was fixed upon her. What had the queen wanted? She tried to hurry
+after her. Her Majesty had disappeared, she was already going through
+the next hall--but the distance was so great--she could not reach her,
+the space seemed to increase as she moved on. She felt that she was on
+the verge of fainting and dragged herself into a secluded room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The members of the court were retiring. Confusion arose--the mistress
+of ceremonies was absent just at the moment of the <i>Congé</i>! No one had
+time to seek her. All were assembling to take leave, and then hurrying
+after servants and wraps. Carriage after carriage rolled away, the
+rooms were empty, the lackeys came to extinguish the lights. The
+countess lay on a sofa, alone and deserted in the last hall of the
+suite.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In Heaven's name, is your Highness ill?&quot; cried an old major-domo,
+offering his assistance to the lady, who slowly rose. &quot;Is it all over?&quot;
+she asked, gazing vacantly around &quot;Where is my servant?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is still waiting outside for Your Highness,&quot; replied the old
+gentleman, trying to assist her. &quot;Shall I call a doctor or a maid?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, thank you, I am well again. It was only an attack of giddiness,&quot;
+said the countess, walking slowly out of the palace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who is driving to-night?&quot; she asked the footman, as he put her fur
+cloak over her bare shoulders.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Martin, Your Highness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, then go home and say that I shall not come, but visit the
+estates.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is bitterly cold. Your Highness!&quot; observed the major domo, who had
+attended her to the equipage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That does not matter--is the beaver robe in the carriage?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, Your Highness!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What time is it? Late?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh no; just nine. Your Highness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Forward, then!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Martin knew where.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The major-domo closed the door and away dashed the horses into the
+glittering winter night along the familiar, but long neglected road. It
+was indeed a cold drive. The ground was frozen hard and the carriage
+windows were covered with frost flowers. The countess' temples were
+throbbing violently, her heart beat eagerly with longing for the
+husband whom she had deserted for this base world! The mood of that
+Ammergau epoch again asserted its rights, and she penitently hastened
+to seek the beautiful gift she had so thoughtlessly cast aside. With a
+heart full of rancor over the injustice and lovelessness experienced in
+society, her soul plunged deeply into the sweet chalice of the love and
+poesy of those days--a love which was religion--a religion which was
+<i>love</i>. &quot;Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have
+not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal!&quot; Aye,
+for sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal she had squandered warm
+heart's blood, and the sorrowing soul of the people from whose sacred
+simplicity her wearied soul was to have drawn fresh youth, gazed
+tearfully at her from the eyes of her distant son.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The horses went so slowly to-night, she thought--no pace is swift
+enough for a repentant heart which longs to atone!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He would be angry, she would have a bitter struggle with him--but she
+would soften his wrath--she would put forth all her charms, she would
+be loving and beautiful, fairer than he had ever seen her, for she had
+never appeared before him in full dress, with diamonds sparkling on her
+snowy neck, and heavy gold bracelets clasping her wonderful arms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She would tell him that she repented, that everything should be as of
+yore when she plighted her troth to him by the glare of the bridal
+torches of the forest conflagration and, feeling Valkyrie might in her
+veins, dreamed Valkyrie dreams.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She drew a long breath and compared the pallid court lady of the
+present, who fainted at a proof of disfavor and a few spiteful glances,
+with the Valkyrie of those days! Was it a mere delusion which made her
+so strong? No--even if the God whom she saw in him was a delusion, the
+love which swelled in her veins with that might which defied the
+elements was divine and, by every standard of philosophy, æsthetics,
+and birth, as well as morality, had a right to its existence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then why had she been ashamed of it? On account of trivial prejudices,
+petty vanities: in other words, weakness!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Not Freyer, but <i>she</i> was too petty for this great love! &quot;Yet
+wait--wait, my forsaken husband. Your wife is coming to-day with a love
+that is worthy of you, ardent enough to atone in a single hour for the
+neglect of years.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She breathed upon the frost-coated pane, melting an opening in the
+crust of ice. The castle already stood before her, the height was
+almost reached. Then--a sudden jolt--a cry from the coachman, and the
+carriage toppled toward the precipice. With ready nerve the countess
+sprang out on the opposite side.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, the horses shied at sight of Herr Freyer!&quot; said the coachman, as
+Freyer, with an iron hand, curbed the rearing animals. The countess
+hastened toward him. Aided by the coachman, he quieted the trembling
+creatures.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I beg your pardon, Your Highness,&quot; said Freyer, still panting from the
+exertion he had made. &quot;I came out of the wood unexpectedly, and the
+dark figure frightened them. Fortunately I could seize their reins.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Drive on, Martin,&quot; the countess ordered, &quot;I will walk with Herr
+Freyer.&quot; The coachman obeyed. She put her hand through Freyer's arm.
+&quot;No wonder that the horses shied, my husband, you look so strange. What
+were you doing in the woods in the middle of the night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What I always do--wandering about.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is not right, you ought to sleep.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Sleep?&quot; Freyer repeated with a bitter laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is this my reception, Joseph?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon me--it makes me laugh when you talk of sleeping! Look&quot;--he
+raised his hat: &quot;Even in the starlight you can see the white hairs
+which have come since you were last here, sent my child away, and made
+me wholly a hermit. No sleep has come to my eyes and my hair has grown
+grey.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess perceived with horror the change which had taken place in
+him. Threads of silver mingled with his black locks, his eyes were
+sunken, his whole figure was emaciated, his chest narrowed--he was a
+sick man. She could not endure the sight--it was the most terrible
+reproach to her; she fixed her eyes on the ground: &quot;I had made such a
+lovely plan--Martin has the key of the outside door--I was going to
+steal gently to the side of your couch and kiss your sleeping lips.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you for the kind intention. But do you imagine that I could
+have slept after receiving that letter which brought me the news that I
+was betrayed--betrayed once more and, after all the sacred promises
+made during your last visit, you had done exactly the opposite and
+accepted a position which separated you still farther from your husband
+and child, bound you still more firmly to the world? Do you imagine
+that the <i>days</i> are enough to ponder over such thoughts? No, one must
+call in the nights to aid. You know that well, and I should be far
+better satisfied if you would say honestly: 'I know that I am killing
+you, that your strength is being consumed with sorrow, but I have no
+wish to change this state of affairs!' instead of feigning that you
+cannot understand why I should not sleep quietly and wondering that I
+wander all night in the forest? But fear nothing, I am perfectly
+calm--I shall reproach you no farther,&quot; he added in a milder tone, &quot;for
+I have closed accounts with myself--with you--with life. Do not weep,
+I promised that when you sought your husband you should find him--I
+will not be false to my pledge. Come, lay your little head upon my
+breast--you are trembling, are you cold? Lean on me, and let us walk
+faster that I may shelter you in the warm room. Wandering dove--how did
+you happen suddenly to return to your husband's lonely nest in the cold
+night, in this bitter winter season? Why did not you stay in the warm
+cote with the others, where you had everything that you desire? Do you
+miss anything? Tell me, what do you seek with me, for what does your
+little heart long?&quot; His voice again sank to the enthralling whisper
+which had formerly made all her pulses throb with a sensation of
+indescribable bliss. His great heart took all its pains and suffering
+and ceased to judge her. The faithless dove found the nest open, and
+his gentle hand scattered for her the crumbs of his lost happiness, as
+the starving man divides his last crust with those who are poorer
+still.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She could not speak--overpowered by emotion she leaned against him,
+allowing herself to be carried rather than led up the steep ascent. But
+she could not wait, even as they moved her lips sought his, her little
+hands clasped his, and a murmur tremulous with emotion: &quot;<i>This</i> is what
+I missed!&quot;--answered the sweet question. The stars above sparkled with
+a thousand rays--the whole silent, glittering, icy winter night
+rejoiced.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last the castle was reached and the &quot;warm&quot; room received them. It
+did not exactly deserve the name, for the fire in the stove had gone
+out, but neither felt it--the glow in their hearts sufficed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You must take what I can offer--I am all alone, you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>All alone</i>!&quot; she repeated with a happy smile which he could see by
+the starlight shining through the open window. Another kiss--a long
+silent embrace was exchanged.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now let me light a lamp, that I may take off your cloak and make you
+comfortable! Or, do you mean to spend the night so?&quot; He was bewitching
+in his mournful jesting, his sad happiness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, it is so long since I have seen you thus,&quot; Madeleine murmured.
+&quot;World, I can laugh at you now!&quot; cried an exultant voice in her heart,
+for the old love, the old spell was hers once more. And as he again
+appeared before her in his mild greatness and beauty, she desired to
+show herself his peer--display herself to him in all the dazzling
+radiance of her beauty. As he turned to light the lamp she let the
+heavy cloak fall and stood in all her loveliness, her snowy neck framed
+by the dark velvet bodice, on which all the stars in the firmament
+outside seemed to have fallen and clung to rest there for a moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer turned with the lamp in his hand--his eyes flashed--a faint cry
+escaped his lips! She waited smiling for an expression of delight--but
+he remained motionless, gazing at her as if he beheld a ghost, while
+the glance fixed upon the figure whose diamonds sparkled with a myriad
+rays constantly grew more gloomy, his bearing more rigid--a deep flush
+suffused his pallid face. &quot;And this is my wife?&quot; at last fell in a
+muffled, expressionless tone from his lips. &quot;No--it is not she.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess did not understand his meaning--she imagined that the
+superb costume so impressed him that he dared not approach her, and she
+must show him by redoubled tenderness that he was not too lowly for
+this superb woman. &quot;It <i>is</i> your wife, indeed it is, and all this
+splendor veils a heart which is yours, and yours alone!&quot; she cried,
+throwing herself on his breast and clasping her white arms around him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But with a violent gesture he released himself, drawing back a step.
+&quot;No--no--I cannot, I will not touch you in such a guise as this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer!&quot; the countess angrily exclaimed, gazing at him as if to detect
+some trace of insanity in his features. &quot;What does this mean?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you--been in society--in <i>that</i> dress?&quot; he asked in a low tone,
+as if ashamed for her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. And in my impatience to hasten to you I did not stop to change
+it. I thought you would be pleased.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer again burst into the bitter laugh from which she always shrank.
+&quot;Pleased, when I see that you show yourself to others so--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How?&quot; she asked, still failing to understand him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So naked!&quot; he burst forth, unable to control himself longer. &quot;You have
+uncovered your beauty thus before the eyes of the gentlemen of your
+world? And this is my wife--a creature so destitute of all shame?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer!&quot; shrieked the countess, tottering backward with her hand
+pressed upon her brow as if she had just received a blow on the head:
+&quot;This to <i>me</i>--<i>to-day</i>!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To-day or to-morrow. On any day when you display the beauty at which I
+scarcely dare to glance, to the profane eyes of a motley throng of
+strangers, who gaze with the same satisfaction at the booths of a
+fair--on any day when you expose to greedy looks the bosom which
+conceals the heart that should be mine--on any such day you are
+unworthy the love of any honest man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A low cry of indignation answered him, then all was still. At last
+Madeleine von Wildenau's lips murmured with a violent effort: &quot;This is
+the last!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer was striving to calm himself. He pressed his burning brow
+against the frosty window-panes with their glittering tangle of crystal
+flowers and stars. The sparkling firmament above gazed down in its
+eternal clearness upon the poor earthling, who in his childlike way was
+offering a sacrifice to the chaste God, whose cold home it was.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Whenever I come--there is always some new torture for me--but you have
+never so insulted and outraged me as today,&quot; said the countess slowly,
+in a low tone, as if weighing every word. Her manner was terribly calm
+and cold.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I understand that it may be strange to you to see a lady in full
+dress--you have never moved in a circle where this is a matter of
+course and no one thinks of it. To the pure all things are pure, and he
+who is not stands with us under the law of the etiquette of our
+society. Our village lasses must muffle themselves to the throat, for
+what could protect them from the coarse jests and rudeness of the
+village lads?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer winced, he felt the lash.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To add to the splendor of festal garments,&quot; she went on, &quot;a little of
+the natural beauty of the divinely created human body is a tribute
+which even the purest woman can afford the eye, and whatever is kept
+within the limits of the artistic sense can never be shameless or
+unseemly. Woe betide any one who passes these bounds and sees evil
+in it--he erases himself from the ranks of cultured people. So much,
+and no more, you are still worthy that I should say in my own
+justification!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She turned and took up the cloak to wrap herself in it: &quot;Will you be
+kind enough to have the horses harnessed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you going?&quot; asked Freyer, who meanwhile had regained his
+self-control.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas, what have I done!&quot; he said, wringing his hands. &quot;I have not even
+asked you to sit down, have not let you rest, have offended and wounded
+you. Oh, I am a savage, a wretched man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are what you can be!&quot; she replied with the cutting coldness into
+which a proud woman's slighted love is quickly transformed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What such an uncultivated person can be! That is what you wish to
+say!&quot; replied Freyer. &quot;But there lies my excuse. Aye, I am a native of
+the country, accustomed to break my fruit, wet with the morning-dew,
+from the tree ere any hand has touched it, or pluck from the thorny
+boughs in the dewy thicket the hidden berries which no human eye has
+beheld;--I cannot understand how people can enjoy fruits that have been
+uncovered for hours in the dust of the marketplace. The aroma is
+gone--the freshness and bloom have vanished, and if given me--no matter
+how costly it might be, I should not care for it--the wild berries in
+the wood which smiled at me from the leafy dusk with their glittering
+dewdrops, would please me a thousand times better! This is not meant
+for a comparison, only an instance of how people feel when they live in
+the country!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And to carry your simile further--if you believe that the fruit so
+greatly desired has been kept for you alone--will it not please you to
+possess what others long for in vain?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; he said simply, &quot;I am not envious enough to wish to deprive
+others of anything they covet--but I will not share, so I would rather
+resign!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then--I have nothing more to say on that point--let us close the
+conversation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Both were silent a long time, as if exhausted by some great exertion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How is our--the child? Have you any news from Josepha?&quot; the countess
+asked at last.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, but unfortunately nothing good.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As usual!&quot; she answered, hastily; &quot;it is her principle to make us
+anxious. Such people take advantage of every opportunity to let us feel
+their power. I know that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not think so. I must defend my cousin. She was always honest,
+though blunt and impulsive,&quot; answered Freyer. &quot;I fear she is writing
+the truth, and the boy is really worse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go there then, if you are anxious, and send me word how you find him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will not travel at your expense--except in your service, and my own
+means are not enough,&quot; replied Freyer in a cold, stern tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, this <i>is</i> in my service. So--obey and go at my expense!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer gazed at her long and earnestly. &quot;As your steward?&quot; he asked in
+a peculiar tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I should like to have a truthful report--not a biassed one, as is
+Josepha's custom,&quot; she replied evasively. &quot;There is nothing to be done
+on the estates now--I beg the 'steward' to represent my interests in
+this matter. If you find the child really worse, I will get a leave of
+absence and go to him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, I will do as you order.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But have the horses harnessed now, or it will be morning before I
+return.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will it not be too fatiguing for you to return to-night? Shall I not
+wake the house-maid to prepare your room and wait on you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I thank you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As you choose,&quot; he said, quietly going to order the horses, which had
+hardly been taken from the carriage, to be harnessed again. The
+coachman remonstrated, saying that the animals had not had time to
+rest, but Freyer replied that there must be no opposition to the
+countess' will.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The half-hour which the coachman required was spent by the husband and
+wife in separate rooms. Freyer was arranging on his desk a file of
+papers relating to his business as steward; bills and documents for the
+countess to look over. He worked as quietly as if all emotion was dead
+within him. The countess sat alone in the dimly-lighted, comfortless
+sitting room, gazing at the spot where her son's bed used to stand. Her
+blood was seething with shame and wrath; yet the sight of the empty
+wall where the boy no longer held out his arms to her from the little
+couch, was strangely sad--as if he were dead, and his corpse had
+already been borne out. Her heart was filled with grief, too bitter to
+find relief in tears, they are frozen at such a moment. She would fain
+have called his name amid loud sobs, but something seemed to stand
+beside her, closing her lips and clutching her heart with an iron hand,
+the <i>vengeance</i> of the sorely insulted woman. Then she fancied she saw
+the child fluttering toward her in his little white shirt. At the same
+moment a door burst open, a draught of air swept through the room,
+making her start violently--and at the same moment a star shot from the
+sky, so close at hand, that it appeared as if it must dart through the
+panes and join its glittering fellows on the countess' breast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What was that? A gust of wind so sudden, that it swept through the
+closed rooms, burst doors open, and appeared to hurl the stars from the
+sky? Yet outside all was still; only the wainscoting and beams of the
+room creaked slightly--popular superstition would have said: &quot;Some
+death has been announced!&quot; The excited woman thought of it with secret
+terror. Was it the whir of the spindle from which one of the Fates
+had just cut the thread of life? If it were the life-thread of her
+child--if at that very hour--her blood congealed to ice! She longed to
+shriek in her fright, but again the gloomy genius of vengeance sealed
+her lips and heart. <i>If</i> it were--God's will be done. Then the last
+bond between her and Freyer would be sundered. What could she do with
+<i>this</i> man's child? Nothing that fettered her to him had a right to
+exist--if the child was dead, then she would be free, there would be
+nothing more in common between them! He had slain her heart that day,
+and she was slaying the last feeling which lived within it, love for
+her child! Everything between them must be over, effaced from the
+earth, even the child. Let God take it!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Every passionate woman who is scorned feels a touch of kinship with
+Medea, whose avenging steel strikes the husband whom it cannot reach
+through the children, whether her own heart is also pierced or not.
+Greater far than the self-denial of <i>love</i> is that of <i>hate</i>, for it
+extends to self-destruction! It fears no pain, spares neither itself
+nor its own flesh and blood, slays the object of its dearest love to
+give pain to others--even if only in <i>thought</i>, as in the modern realm
+of culture, where everything formerly expressed in deeds of violence
+now acts in the sphere of mental life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was a terrible hour! From every corner of the room, wherever she
+gazed, the boy's large eyes shone upon her through the dusk, pleading:
+&quot;Forgive my father, and do not thrust me from your heart!&quot; But in vain,
+her wrath was too great, her heart was incapable at that moment of
+feeling anything else. Everything had happened as it must; she had
+entered an alien, inferior sphere, and abandoned and scorned her own,
+therefore the society to which she belonged now exiled her, while she
+reaped in the sphere she had chosen ingratitude and misunderstanding.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now, too late, she was forced to realize what it meant to be chained
+for life to an uneducated man! &quot;Oh, God, my punishment is just,&quot;
+murmured an angry voice in her soul, &quot;in my childish defiance I
+despised all the benefits of culture by which I was surrounded, to make
+for myself an idol of clay which, animated by my glowing breath, dealt
+me a blow in the face and returned to its original element! I have
+thrown myself away on a man, to whom any peasant lass would be dearer!
+Why--why, oh God, hast Thou lured me with Thy deceitful mask into the
+mire? Dost Thou feel at ease amid base surroundings? I cannot follow
+Thee there! A religion which stands on so bad a footing with man's
+highest blessings, culture and learning, can never be <i>mine</i>. Is it
+divine to steal a heart under the mask of Christ and then, as if in
+mockery, leave the deceived one in the lurch, after she has been caught
+in the snare and bound to a narrow-minded, brutal husband? Is this
+God-like? Nay, it is fiendish! Do not look at me so beseechingly,
+beautiful eyes of my child, I no longer believe even in you! Everything
+which has hitherto bound me to your father has been a lie; you, too,
+are an embodied falsehood. It is not true that Countess Wildenau has
+mingled her noble blood with that of a low-born man; that she has given
+birth to a bastard, wretched creature, which could be at home in no
+sphere save by treachery! No--no, I cannot have forgotten myself so
+far--it is but a dream, a phantasy of the imagination and when I awake
+it will be on the morning of that August day in Ammergau after the
+Passion Play. Then I shall be free, can wed a noble man who is my peer,
+and give him legitimate heirs, whose mother I can be without a blush!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What was that? Did her ears deceive her? The hoof-beats of a horse,
+rushing up the mountain with the speed of the wind. She hurried to the
+window. The clock was just striking two. Yes! A figure like the wild
+huntsman was flitting like a shadow through the night toward the
+castle. Now he turned the last curve and reached the height and the
+countess saw distinctly that he was her cornier. What news was he
+bringing--what had happened--at so late an hour?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Was the evil dream not yet over?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What new blow was about to strike her?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What you desired--nothing else!&quot; said the demon of her life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The courier checked his foaming horse before the terrace. The countess
+tried to hurry toward him, but could not leave the spot. She clung
+shuddering to the cross-bars of the window, which cast its long black
+shadow far outside.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer opened the door; Madeleine heard the horseman ask: &quot;Is the
+Countess here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes!&quot; replied Freyer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have a telegram which must be signed, the answer is prepaid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer tore off the envelope. &quot;Take the horse round to the stable, I
+will attend to everything.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He entered and approached the door, through which the child had come to
+his mother's aid the last time she was there, to protect her from
+Josepha. The countess fancied that the little head must be again thrust
+in! But it was only Freyer with the despatch. The countess mechanically
+signed her name to the receipt as if she feared she could not do so
+after having read the message. Then, with a trembling hand, she opened
+the telegram, which contained only the words:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Our angel has just died, with his mother's name on his lips. Please
+send directions for the funeral.</p>
+
+<p class="right">&quot;<span class="sc">Josepha.</span>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A cry rang through the room like the breaking of a chord--a death-like
+silence followed. The countess was on her knees, with her face bowed on
+the table, her hand clasping the telegram, crushed before the God whose
+might she felt for the first time in her life, whom only a few moments
+before she had blasphemed and defied. He had taken her at her word, and
+her words had condemned her. The child, the loyal child who had died
+with her name on his lips, she had wished but a few minutes before that
+God would take out of the world--she could betray him for the sake of
+an aristocratic legitimate brother, who never had existed. She could
+think of his death as something necessary, as her means of deliverance?
+Now the child <i>had</i> released her. Sensitive and modest, he had removed
+the burden of his poor little life, which was too much for her to bear
+and vanished from the earth where he found no place--but his last word
+was the name of all love, the name &quot;mother!&quot; He had not asked &quot;have you
+fulfilled a mother's duties to me?--have you loved me?&quot; He had loved
+his mother with that sweet child-love, which demands nothing--only
+gives.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And she, the avaricious mother, had been niggardly with her love--till
+the child died of longing. She had let it die and did not bestow the
+last joy, press the last kiss upon the little mouth, permit the last
+look of the seeking eyes to rest upon the mother's face!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Outraged nature, so long denied, now shrieked aloud, like an animal for
+its dead young! But the brute has at least done its duty, suckled its
+offspring, warmed and protected it with its own body, as long as it
+could. But she, the more highly organized creature--for only human
+beings are capable of such unnatural conduct--had sacrificed her child
+to so-called higher interests, had neither heeded Josepha's warning,
+nor the voice of her own heart. Now came pity for the dead child, now
+she would fain have taken it in her arms, called it by every loving
+name, cradled the weary little head upon her breast. Too late! He had
+passed away like a smiling good genius, whom she had repulsed--now she
+was alone and free, but free like the man who falls into a chasm
+because the rope which bound him to the guide broke. She had not known
+that she possessed a child, while he lived, now that he was dead she
+knew it. <i>Maternal joy</i> could not teach her, for she had never
+experienced it--<i>maternal grief</i> did--and she was forced to taste it to
+the dregs. Though she writhed in her torture, burying her nails in the
+carpet as if she would fain dig the child from the ground, she could
+find no consolation, and letting her head sink despairingly, she
+murmured: &quot;My child--you have gone and left me with a guilt that can
+never be atoned!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You can be my mother in Heaven,&quot; he had once said. This, too, was
+forfeited; neither in Heaven nor on earth had she a mother's rights,
+for she had denied her child, not only before the world but, during
+this last hour, to herself also.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer bore the dispensation differently. To him it was no punishment,
+but a trial, the inevitable consequence of unhappy, unnatural
+relations. He could not reproach himself and uttered no reproaches to
+others. He was no novice in suffering and had one powerful consolation,
+which she lacked: the perception of the divinity of grief--this made
+him strong and calm! Freyer leaned against the window and gazed upward
+to the stars, which were so peacefully pursuing their course. &quot;You were
+far away from me when you lived in a foreign land, my child--now you
+are near, my poor little boy! This cold earth had no home for you! But
+to your father you will still live, and your glorified spirit will
+brighten my path--the dark one I must still follow!&quot; Tears flowed
+silently down his cheeks. No loud lamentations must profane his great,
+sacred anguish. With clasped hands he mutely battled it down and as of
+old on the cross his eyes appealed to those powers ever near the
+patient sufferer in the hour of conflict. However insignificant and
+inexperienced he might be in this world, he was proportionally lofty
+and superior in the knowledge of the things of another.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, rise!&quot; he said gently to the bewildered woman, bending to help
+her. She obeyed, but it was in the same way that two strangers, in a
+moment of common disaster, lend each other assistance. The tie had been
+severed that day, and the child's death placed a grave between them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I fear your sobbing will be heard downstairs. Will you not pray with
+me?&quot; said Freyer. &quot;Do what we may, we are in God's hands and must
+accept what He sends! I wish that you could feel how the saints aid a
+soul which suffers in silence. Loud outcries and unbridled lamentations
+drive them away! God does not punish us to render us impatient, but
+patient.&quot; He clasped his hands: &quot;Come, let us pray for our child!&quot; He
+repeated in a low tone the usual, familiar prayers for the dying--we
+cannot always command words to express our feelings. An old formula
+often stands us in good stead, when the agitation of our souls will not
+suffer us to find language, and our thoughts, swept to and fro by the
+tempest of feeling, gladly cling to a familiar form to which they give
+new life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess did not understand this. She was annoyed by the
+commonplace phraseology, which was not hallowed to her by custom and
+piety--she was contemptuous of a point of view which could find
+consolation for <i>such</i> a grief by babbling &quot;trivialties.&quot; Freyer ended
+his prayer, and remained a moment with his hands clasped on his breast.
+Then he dipped his fingers in the holy water basin beside the place
+where the child's couch had formerly stood and made the sign of the
+cross over himself and the unresponsive woman. She submitted, but
+winced as if he had cut her face with a knife and destroyed its beauty.
+It reminded her of the hour in Ammergau when he made the sign of the
+cross over her for the first time! Then she had felt enrolled by this
+symbol in a mysterious army of sufferers and there her misery began.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We must now arrange where we will have the child buried,&quot; said Freyer;
+&quot;I think we should bring him here, that we may still have our angel's
+grave!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As you choose!&quot; she said in an exhausted tone, wiping away her tears.
+&quot;It will be best for you to go and attend to everything yourself. Then
+you can bring the--body!&quot; The word again destroyed her composure. She
+saw the child in his coffin with Josepha, the faithful servant who had
+nursed him, beside it, and an unspeakable jealousy seized her
+concerning the woman to whom she had so indifferently resigned all her
+rights. The child, always so ready to lavish its love, was lying cold
+and rigid, and she would give her life if it could rise once more,
+throw its little arms around her neck, and say &quot;my dear mother.&quot; &quot;Pearl
+of Heaven--I have cast you away for wretched tinsel and now, when the
+angels have taken you again, I recognize your value.&quot; She tore the
+jewels from her breast. &quot;There, take these glittering stars of my
+frivolous life and put them in his coffin--I never want to see them
+again--let their rays be quenched in my child's grave.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The sacrifice comes too late!&quot; said Freyer, pushing the stones away.
+He did not wish to be harsh, but he could not be untruthful. What was a
+handful of diamonds flung away in a moment of impulse to the Countess
+Wildenau? Did she seek to buy with them pardon for her guilt toward her
+dead child? The father's aching heart could not accept <i>that</i> payment
+on account! Or was it meant for the symbol of a greater sacrifice--a
+sacrifice of her former life? Then it came too late, too late for the
+dead and for the living; it could not avail the former, and the latter
+no longer believed in it!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had understood him and the terrible accusation which he unwittingly
+brought against her! Standing before him as if before a judge, she felt
+that God was with him at that moment--but she was deserted, her angel
+had left her, there was no pity for her in Heaven or on earth--save
+from one person! The thought illumined the darkness of her misery.
+There was but one who would pour balm upon her wounds, one who had
+indulgence and love enough to raise the drooping head, pardon the
+criminal--her noble, generous-hearted friend, the Prince! She would fly
+to him, seek shelter from the gloomy spirit which had pursued her ever
+since she conjured up in Ammergau the cruel God who asked such
+impossible things and punished so terribly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pray, order the carriage--I must leave here or I shall die.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer glanced at the clock. &quot;The half-hour Martin required is over, he
+will be here directly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it only half an hour? Oh! God--is it possible--so much misery in
+half an hour! It seems an eternity since the news came!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We can feel more grief in one moment than pleasure in a thousand
+years!&quot; answered Freyer. &quot;It is probably because a just Providence
+allots to each an equal measure of joy and pain--but the pain must be
+experienced in this brief existence, while we have an eternity for joy.
+Woe betide him, who does the reverse--keeps the pain for eternity and
+squanders the joy in this world. He is like the foolish virgins who
+burned their oil before the coming of the 'bridegroom.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess nodded. She understood the deep significance of Freyer's
+words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But we of the people say that 'whom God loveth, He chasteneth,'&quot; he
+continued, &quot;and I interpret that to mean that He <i>compels</i> those whom
+He wishes to save to bear their portion here below, that the joy may be
+reserved for them in Heaven! To such favored souls He sends an angel
+with the cup of wormwood and wherever it flees and hides--he finds it.
+Nearer and nearer the angel circles around it on his dark pinions, till
+it sinks with fatigue, and fainting with thirst like the Saviour on the
+Cross--drinks the bitter draught as if it were the most delicious
+refreshment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess gazed into his face with timid admiration. He seemed to
+her the gloomy messenger of whom he spoke, she fancied she could hear
+the rustle of his wings as he drew nearer and nearer in ever narrowing
+circles, till escape was no longer possible. Like a hunted animal she
+took to flight--seeking deliverance at any cost. Thank Heaven, the
+carriage! Martin was driving up. A cold: &quot;Farewell, I hope you may gain
+consolation and strength for the sad journey!&quot; was murmured to the
+father who was going to bring home the body of his dead child--then she
+entered the carriage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer wrapped the fur robe carefully around the delicate form of his
+wife, but not another word escaped his lips. What he said afterward to
+his God, when he returned to the deserted house, Countess Wildenau must
+answer for at some future day.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>NOLI ME TANGERE</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have attracted you by a Play--for you were a child, and
+children are
+taught by games. But when one method of instruction is exhausted it is
+cast aside and exchanged for a higher one, that the child may ripen to
+maturity.&quot; Thus spoke the voice of the Heavenly Teacher to the countess
+as, absorbed in her grief, she drove through the dusk of a wintry
+morning. She almost wondered, as she gazed out into the grey dawn, that
+the day-star was not weary of pursuing its course. Aye, the mysterious
+voice spoke the truth: the play was over, that method of instruction
+was exhausted, but she did not yet feel ready for a sterner one and
+trembled at the thought of it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Instead of the divine Kindergarten instructor, came the gloomy teacher
+death, forcing the attention of the refractory pupil by the first
+pitiless blow upon her own flesh and blood! Day was dawning--in nature
+as well as in her own soul, but the sun shone upon a winding sheet,
+outside as well as in, a world dead in the clasp of winter. Where was
+the day when the redeeming love for which she hoped would appear to her
+in the spring garden? Woe to all who believed in spring. Their best
+gift was a cold winter sunlight on snow-covered graves.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The corpse of her spring dream was lying on the laughing shores of the
+Riviera.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The God whom she sought was very different from the one she intended to
+banish from her heart. The new teacher seized her hand with bony
+fingers and forced her to look closely at the God whom she herself had
+created, and whom she now upbraided with having deceived her. &quot;What
+kind of God would this creature of your imagination be?&quot; rang in her
+ears with pitiless mockery. Aye, she had believed Him to be the Jupiter
+who loved mortal women, only in the course of the ages he had changed
+his name and now appeared as Christ. But she was now forced to learn
+that He was no offspring of the sensual fancy of the nations, but a
+contrast to every natural tendency and desire--a <i>true</i> God, not a
+creation of mankind. Were it not so, men would have invented a more
+complaisant one. Must not that be a divine power which, in opposition
+to all human, all earthly passions, with neither splendor, nor power,
+with the most insignificant means has established an empire throughout
+the world? Aye, she recognized with reverent awe that this was a God,
+though unlike the one whom she sought, Christ was not Jupiter--and
+Freyer was not Christ. The <i>latter</i> cannot be clasped in the arms, does
+not yield to earthly yearning, no matter how fervently devout. Spirit
+as He is, He vanishes, even where He reveals Himself in material form,
+and whoever thinks to grasp Him, holds but the poor doll, whom He gave
+for a momentary support to the childish mind, which seeks solely what
+is tangible!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mary Magdalene was permitted to serve and anoint Him when He walked on
+earth in human form, but when she tried to clasp the risen Lord the
+&quot;<i>noli me tangere</i>&quot; thundered in her ears, and God withdrew from mortal
+touch. In Mary Magdalene, however, the love kindled by the visible
+Master was strong enough to burn on for the invisible One--she no
+longer sought Him among the living, but went into solitude and lived
+for the vanished Christ. But the countess had not advanced so far. What
+&quot;God of Love&quot; was this, who imposed conditions which made the warm
+blood freeze, killed the warm life-pulses? What possession was this,
+which could only be obtained by renunciation, what joy that could be
+attained solely by mortification? Her passionate nature could not
+comprehend this contradiction. She longed to clasp His knees and wipe
+His feet with her hair, at least that, nothing more, only that--she
+would be modest! But not even that was allowed her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the great impulse of religious materialism, in which divinity
+and humanity met, the Magdalene element in the history of the
+conversion of mankind, which attracted souls like that of Madeleine von
+Wildenau, made them feel for an instant the bliss of the immediate
+presence of God, and then left them disappointed and alone until they
+perceived that in that one instant wings have grown--strong enough to
+bear them up to Heaven, if they once learned to use them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thus quivering and forsaken, the heart of the modern Magdalene lay on
+the earth when the first <i>noli me tangere</i> echoed in her ears. She had
+never known that there were things which could not be had, and now that
+she wanted a God and could not obtain Him, she murmured like a child
+which longs in vain for the stars until it attains a higher
+consciousness of ownership than lies in mere personal possession, the
+feeling which in quiet contemplation of the starry firmament fills us
+with the proud consciousness: &quot;This is yours!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Everything is ours--and nothing, according to our view of it. To expand
+our breasts with its mighty thoughts--to merge ourselves in it and revel
+in the whirling dance of the atoms, <i>in that sense</i> the universe is
+ours. But absorb and contain it we cannot; in that way it does not
+belong to us. It is the same with God. Greatness cannot enter
+littleness--the small must be absorbed by the great; but its power of
+possession lies in the very fact that it can do this and still retain
+its own nature. How long will it last, and what will it cost, ere the
+impatient child attains the peace of this realization?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the faint glimmer of the dawn the countess drove past a little
+church in the suburbs of Munich. It was the hour for early mass. A few
+sleepy, shivering old women, closely muffled, were shuffling over the
+snow in big felt shoes toward the open door. A dim ray of light
+streamed out, no organ notes, no festal display lured worshippers, for
+it was a &quot;low mass.&quot; It was cold and gloomy outside, songless within.
+Yet the countess suddenly stopped the carriage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am going into the church a moment,&quot; she said, tottering forward with
+uncertain steps, for she was exhausted both physically and mentally.
+The old women eyed her malignantly, as if asking: &quot;What do you want
+among poor ugly crones who drag their crooked limbs out of bed so early
+to go to their Saviour, because later they must do the work of their
+little homes and cannot get away? What brings you to share with us the
+bitter bread of poverty, the bread of the poor in spirit, with which
+our Saviour fed the five thousand and will feed thousands and tens of
+thousands more from eternity to eternity? Of what use to you are the
+crumbs scattered here for a few beggars?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She felt ashamed as she moved in her long velvet train and costly fur
+cloak past the cowering figures redolent of the musty straw beds and
+close sleeping rooms whence they had come, and read these questions on
+the wrinkled faces peering from under woollen hoods and caps, as if
+she, the rich woman, had come to take something from the poor. She had
+gone forward to the empty front benches near the altar, where the timid
+common people do not venture to sit, but--she knew not why--as she was
+about to kneel there, she suddenly felt that she could not cut off a
+view of any part of the altar from the people behind, deprive them of
+anything to which she had no right, and turning she went back to the
+last seat. There, behind a trembling old man in a shabby woollen
+blouse, who could scarcely bend his stiff knees and sat coughing and
+gasping, and a consumptive woman, who was passing the beads of her
+rosary between thin, crooked fingers, she knelt down. She was more at
+ease now--she felt that she had no rights here, that she was the least
+among the lowliest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The church was still dark, it had not yet been lighted, the sacristan
+was obliged to be saving--every one knew that. The faint ray which
+streamed through the door came from the candle ends brought by the
+congregation, who set them in front of the praying-desks to read their
+prayer-books. The first person was compelled to use a match, the others
+lighted their candles from his and were glad to be able to save the
+matches. It was a silent agreement, which every one knew. Here and
+there a tiny light glowed brightly--ever and anon in some dark corner
+the slight snap of a match was heard and directly after a column or the
+image of some saint emerged from the wavering shadows, now fainter, now
+more distinct, according as the light flashed up and down, till it
+burned clearly. Then the nave grew bright and the breath of the
+congregation rose through the cold church over the little flames like
+clouds of incense. The high-altar alone still lay veiled in darkness.
+The light of a wax-candle on the bench in front shone brightly into the
+countess' eyes. The woman in the three-cornered kerchief with the
+sunken temples and bony hands glanced back and gazed mournfully, almost
+reproachfully, into her face and at her rich fur cloak. Madeleine von
+Wildenau was ashamed of her beauty, ashamed that she wore furs while
+the woman in front of her scarcely had her shoulders covered. She
+felt burdened, she almost wanted to excuse herself. If she were poor
+also--she would have no cause to be ashamed. She gently drew out her
+purse and slipped the contents into the woman's hand. The latter drew
+back startled, she could not believe, could not understand that she was
+really to take it, that the lady was in earnest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May God reward you! I'll pray for you a thousand times!&quot; she
+whispered, and a great, unutterable emotion filled the countess' soul
+as she met the poor woman's grateful glance. Then the kneeling crone
+nudged her neighbor, the coughing, stammering old man, and pressed a
+gold coin into his hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's something for you! You're poor and needy too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The latter looked at the woman, who was a stranger, as though she were
+an apparition from another world. &quot;Why, what is this?&quot; he murmured with
+difficulty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The lady behind gave it to me,&quot; said the woman, pointing backward with
+her thumb.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old man nodded to the lady, as well as his stiff neck would permit,
+and the woman did not notice that he ought to have thanked her, as the
+money was given to her and she had voluntarily shared it with him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Countess Wildenau experienced a strange emotion of satisfaction as if
+now, for the first time, she had a right here, and with the gift she
+had purchased her share of the &quot;bread of poverty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last there was a movement near the high altar. A sleepy alcolyte
+shuffled in, made his reverence before it and lighted a candle, which
+would not burn because he did not wait till the wax, which was
+stiffened by the cold, had melted. While he was lighting the second,
+the first went out and he was obliged to begin his task anew. The wand
+wavered to and fro a long time in the boy's numb hands, but at last the
+altar was lighted, the boy bowed again, and went down the stone steps
+into the vestry-room. This was ordinary prose, but the devout
+worshippers did not perceive it. They all knew the wondrous spell of
+fire, with which the Catholic church consecrates candles and gives
+their light the power to scatter the princes of darkness, and rejoiced
+in the victorious rays from which the evil spirits fled, they saw their
+gliding shadows dart in wild haste through the church and the sleepy
+boy who had wrought the miracle by means of his lighter disappear. <i>The
+light shines, no matter who kindles it</i>. The poor dark souls, illumined
+by no ray of earthly hope, eagerly absorbed its cheering rays and so
+long as the consecrated candles burned, the ghosts of care, discord,
+envy, and all the other demons of poverty were spell-bound! Now the
+priest entered, clad in his white robes, accompanied by two attendants.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A deathlike stillness reigned throughout the church. In a low, almost
+inaudible whisper he read the Latin text, which no one understood, but
+whose meaning every one knew, even the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Everything which gives an impulse to the independent activity of the
+soul produces more effect than what is received in a complete form.
+During the incomprehensible muttering, the countess had time to recall
+the whole mighty drama to which it referred better and more vividly
+than any distinct prosaic theological essay could have described
+it. Again she experienced all the horrors of the Passion, as she
+had done in the Passion Play--only this time invisibly, instead of
+visibly--spiritually instead of materially--&quot;Noli me tangere!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The priest stooped and kissed the altar, it meant the Judas kiss. &quot;Can
+you kiss those lips and not fall down to worship?&quot; cried a voice in the
+countess' heart, as it had done nine years before, and a nameless
+longing seized upon her for the divine contact which had fallen to the
+traitor's lot--but &quot;Noli me tangere&quot; rang in the ears of the penitent
+Magdalene. Before her stood an altar and a priest, not Christ nor
+Judas, and the kiss she envied was imprinted upon white linen, not the
+Saviour's lips. She pressed her hands upon her heart and a few bitter
+tears oozed from beneath her drooping lashes. She was like the blind
+princess in Henrik Hertz' wonderful poem, who, when she suddenly
+obtained her sight, no longer knew herself among the objects which she
+had formerly recognized only by touch, and fancied that she had lost
+everything which was dear and familiar--because she had gained a new
+sense which she knew not how to use--a <i>higher</i> one than that of her
+groping finger tips. Then in her fear she turned to the <i>invisible</i>
+world and recognized <i>it</i> only, it alone had not changed with outward
+phenomena because alike to the blind and those who had sight it
+revealed itself only to the <i>mind</i>. It was the same with the countess.
+The world which she could touch with her fingers had vanished and
+before her newly awakened sense lay a boundless space filled with
+strange forms, which all seemed so unattainably distant; one only
+remained the same: the God whom she had <i>never</i> seen. And now when
+everything once familiar and near was transformed and removed to a vast
+distance, when everything appeared under a wholly different guise, it
+was He to whom her heart, accustomed to blindness, sought and found the
+way.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The priest was completely absorbed in his prayer-book. What he beheld
+the others felt with mysterious awe. It was like looking through a
+telescope into a strange world, while those who were not permitted to
+do so stood by and imagined what the former beheld.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Sursum corda fell slowly from the lips of the priest. The bell
+sounded. &quot;Christ is present!&quot; The congregation, as if dazzled, bowed
+their faces and crossed themselves in the presence of the marvel
+that Heaven itself vouchsafed to descend to their unworthy selves.
+Again the bell sounded for the transformation, and perfect silence
+followed--while the miracle was being wrought by which God entered the
+mouths of mortals to be the bread of life to mankind.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the bread of the poor and simple-hearted, whose crumbs the
+Countess Wildenau had that day stolen and was eating with secret shame.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The mass was over, the priest pronounced the benediction and
+withdrew to the vestry-room. The people put out their bits of wax
+candles--clouds of light smoke filled the church. It was like Christmas
+Eve, after the children have gone to bed and the candles on the tree
+are extinguished--but their hearts are still full of Christmas joy. The
+countess knew not why the thought entered her mind, but she suddenly
+recollected that Christmas was close at hand and she no longer had any
+child on whom she could bestow gifts. True, she had never done this
+herself, but always left Josepha to attend to the matter. This year,
+however, she had thought she would do it, now it was too late. Suddenly
+she saw a child's eyes gazing happily at a lighted tree and below it a
+manger, with the same eyes sparkling back. The whole world, heaven and
+earth were glittering with children's beaming eyes, but the most
+beautiful of all--those of her own boy, were closed--no grateful glance
+smiled upon her amid the universal joy, for her there was no Christmas,
+for it was the mother's day, and she was <i>not</i> a mother. &quot;Child in the
+manger, bend down to the sinner who mourns neglected love at Thy feet.&quot;
+Sinking on the kneeling bench, she sobbed bitterly. It was dark and
+silent. The congregation had gone, the candles on the altar had been
+extinguished as fast as possible--the ever-burning lamp cast dull red
+rays upon the altar, dawn was glimmering through the frost-covered
+window panes. All was still--only in the distance the cocks were
+crowing. Again she remembered that evening when her father came and she
+had knelt with Freyer in the church before the Pieta, until the crowing
+of the cock reminded her how easy it was to betray love and fidelity.
+Rising wearily from her knees, she dragged herself to a Pieta above a
+side altar, and pressed her lips upon the wounds of the divine body.
+She gazed to see if the eyes would not once more open, but it remained
+rigid and lifeless, this time no echo answered the mute pleading of
+the warm lips. No second miracle was wrought for her, the hand which
+guided her had been withdrawn, and like the poorest and most humble
+mortal she was forced to grope her way wearily along the arid path of
+tradition;--it was just, she had deserved nothing better, and the great
+discovery which came to her that day was that this path also led to
+God.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">While thus absorbed in contemplation, a voice suddenly startled her so
+that she almost fainted: &quot;What does this mean, Countess? You here at
+early mass, in a court-train! Are you going to write romances--or live
+them? I have often asked you the question, but never with so much
+justification as now!&quot; Prince Emil was standing before her. She could
+almost have shrieked aloud in her delight. &quot;Prince--my dear Prince!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Unfortunately, Prince no longer, but Duke of Metten-Barnheim, in which
+character I again lay myself at your feet and beg for a continuation of
+your favor!&quot; said the prince with a touch of humor. Raising her from
+her knees, he led her into the little corridor of the church. &quot;My
+father,&quot; he went on, &quot;feels so well at Cannes that he wants to spend
+his old age there in peace, and summoned me by telegram to sign the
+abdication documents and take the burden of government upon my young
+shoulders. I was just coming from the station and, as I drove by, saw
+your carriage waiting before this poor temple. I stopped and obtained
+with difficulty from the half frozen coachman information concerning
+the place where his mistress was seeking compensation from the ennui of
+a court entertainment! A romantic episode, indeed! A beautiful woman in
+court dress, weeping and doing penance at six o'clock in the morning,
+among beggars and cripples in a little church in the suburbs. A
+swearing coachman and two horses stiff from the cold waiting outside,
+and lastly a faithful knight, who comes just at the right time to
+prevent a moral suicide and save a pair of valuable horses--what more
+can be desired in our time, in the way of romance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Prince--pardon me, Duke, your mockery hurts me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I suppose so, you are far too wearied, to understand humor. Come,
+I will take you to the carriage. There, lean on me, you are ill,
+<i>machère Madeleine</i>, you cannot go on in this way. What--you will take
+holy water, into which Heaven knows who has dipped his fingers. Well,
+to the pure all things are pure. Fortunately the doubtful fluid is
+frozen!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Talking on in this way he led her out into the open air. A keen morning
+wind from the mountains was sweeping through the streets and cut the
+countess' tear-stained face. She involuntarily hid it on the duke's
+breast. The latter put his arm gently around her and lifted her into
+the carriage. His own coachman was waiting near, but the duke looked at
+her beseechingly. &quot;May I go with you? I cannot possibly leave you in
+this state.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess nodded. He motioned to his servant to drive home and
+entered the Wildenau equipage. &quot;First of all, Madeleine,&quot; he said,
+warming her cold hands in his, &quot;tell me: <i>Are</i> you already a saint--or
+do you wish to <i>become</i> one? Whence dates this last caprice of my
+adored friend?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No saint, Duke--neither now, nor ever, only a deeply humbled, contrite
+heart, which would fain fly from this world!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But is this world so unlovely that one would fain try Heaven, while
+there are people who can be relied on under any circumstances!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes&quot; replied the countess bitterly, but the sweetness of the true
+warmth of feeling revealed through her friend's humor was reviving and
+strengthening to her brain and heart. In his society it seemed as if
+there was neither pain nor woe on earth, as if all gloomy spirits must
+flee from his unruffled calmness. His apparent coldness produced the
+effect of champagne frappé, which, ice-cold when drunk, warms the whole
+frame.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, thank Heaven, that you are here--I have missed you sorely,&quot; she
+said from the depths of her soul. &quot;Oh, my friend, what is to be done--I
+am helpless without you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So much the better for me, if I am indispensable to you--you know that
+is the goal of my desires! But dearest friend--you are suffering and I
+cannot aid you because I do not know the difficulty! What avail is a
+physician, who cures only the symptoms, not the disease. You are simply
+bungling about on your own responsibility and every one knows that is
+the worst thing a sick person can do. Consumptives use the hunger-cure,
+anæmics resort to blood letting. You, my dear Madeleine, I think, do
+the same thing. Mortification, when your vital strength is waning,
+moral blood-letting, while the heart needs food and warmth. What kind
+of cure is it to be up all night long and wander about in cold
+churches, with the thermometer marking below freezing, early in the
+morning. I should advise you to edit a book on the physiology of the
+nerves. You are like the man in the fairy-tale who wanted to learn to
+shiver.&quot; An involuntary smile hovered about the countess' lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Duke--your humor is beginning to conquer. No doubt you are right in
+many things, but you do not know the state of my mind. My life is
+destroyed, the axe is laid at the root, happiness, honor--all are
+lost.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For Heaven's sake, what has happened to thus overwhelm you?&quot; asked the
+duke, still in the most cheerful mood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She could not tell him the truth and pleaded some incident at court as
+an excuse. Then in a few words she told him of the queen's displeasure,
+the malice of her enemies, her imperilled position.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And do you take this so tragically?&quot; The prince laughed aloud: &quot;Pardon
+me, <i>chère amie</i>--but one can't help laughing! A woman like you to
+despair because a few stiff old court sycophants look askance at you,
+and the queen does not understand you which, with the dispositions you
+both have, was precisely what might have been expected. It is too
+comical! It is entirely my own fault--I ought to have considered
+it--but I expected you to show more feminine craft and diplomacy. That
+you disdained to employ the petty arts which render one a <i>Persona
+grata</i> at court is only an honor to you, and if a few fops presumed to
+adopt an insolent manner to you, they shall receive a lesson which
+will teach them that <i>your</i> honor is <i>mine</i>! Nay, it ought to amuse
+you, to feign death awhile and see how the mice will all come out and
+dance around you to scatter again when the lioness awakes. Do you
+talk of destroyed happiness and roots to which the axe is laid? Oh,
+women--women! You can despair over a plaything! For this position at
+court could never be aught save a toy to you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But to retire thus in shame and disgrace--would <i>you</i> endure it--if it
+should happen to you? Ought not a woman to be as sensitive concerning
+her honor as a man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't think your honor will suffer, because the restraint of court
+life does not suit you! Or is it because you do not understand the
+queen? Why, surely persons are not always sympathetic and avoid one
+another without any regret; does the fact become so fateful because one
+of you wears a crown? In that case I beg you to remember that a crown
+is hovering over your head also--a crown that is ready to descend
+whenever that head will receive it, and that you will then be in a
+position to address Her Majesty as 'chère cousine!' You, a Princess von
+Prankenberg, a Countess Wildenau, fly like a rebuked child at an
+ungracious glance from the queen and her court into a corner of a
+church?&quot; He shook his head. &quot;There must be something else. What is it?
+I shall never learn, but you cannot deceive me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess was greatly disconcerted. She tried to find another
+plausible pretext for her mood and, like all natures to whom deception
+is not natural, said precisely what betrayed her: &quot;I am anxious about
+the Wildenaus--they are only watching for the moment when they can
+compromise me unpunished, and if the queen withdraws her favor, they
+need show me no farther consideration.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke frowned. &quot;Ah! ah!&quot;--he said slowly, under his breath: &quot;What do
+you fear from the Wildenaus, how can they compromise you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, startled, kept silence. She saw that she had betrayed
+herself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Madeleine&quot;--he spoke calmly and firmly--&quot;everything must now be
+clearly understood between us. What connection was there between
+Wildenau and that mysterious boy? I must know, for I see that that is
+the quarter whence the danger which you fear is threatening you, and I
+must know how to avert it--you have just heard that <i>your</i> honor is
+<i>mine</i>.' There was a shade of sternness in his tone, the sternness of
+an resolve to take this weak, wavering woman under his protection.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The child&quot;--she faltered, trembling from head to foot--&quot;ah, no--there
+is nothing more to be feared from him--he is dead!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dead?&quot; asked the duke gently. &quot;Since when?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Since yesterday!&quot; And the proud countess, sobbing uncontrollably, sank
+upon his breast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A long silence followed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke passed his arm around her and let her weep her fill. &quot;My poor
+Madeleine--I understand everything.&quot; An indescribable emotion filled
+the hearts of both. Not another word was exchanged.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The carriage rolled up to the entrance of the Wildenau palace. Her
+little cold hands clasped his beseechingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not desert me!&quot; she whispered hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Less than ever!&quot; he replied gravely and firmly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Her Highness is ill!&quot; he said to the servants who came hurrying out
+and helped the tottering woman up the steps. She entered the boudoir,
+where the duke himself removed her cloak. It was a singular sight--the
+haughty figure in full evening dress, adorned with jewels, in the light
+of the dawning day--like some beautiful spirit of the night, left
+behind by her companions who had fled from the first sunbeams, and now
+stood terrified, vainly striving to conceal herself in darkness. &quot;Poor
+wandering sprite, where is the home your tearful eyes are seeking?&quot;
+said the prince, overwhelmed by pity as he saw the grief-worn face.
+&quot;Yes, Madeleine, you are too beautiful for the broad glare of day. Such
+visions suit the veil of evening--the magical lustre of drawing-rooms!
+By day one feels as if the night had been robbed of an elf, who
+having lost her wings by the morning light was compelled to stay
+among common mortals.&quot; Carried away by an outburst of feeling, he
+approached her with open arms. A strange conflict of emotion was
+seething in her breast. She had longed for him, as for the culture she
+had despised--she felt that she could not live without him, that
+without him she could not exorcise the spirits she had conjured up to
+destroy her, her ear listened with rapture to the expression of love in
+cultured language, but when he strove to approach her--it seemed as if
+that unapproachable something which had cried &quot;Noli me tangere!&quot; had
+established its throne in her own heart since she had knelt among the
+beggars early that morning, and now, in spite of herself, cried in its
+solemn dignity from her lips the &quot;Noli me tangere&quot; to another.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And, without words, the duke understood it, respected her mute denial,
+and reverently drew back a step.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you not wish to change your dress, you are utterly exhausted. If it
+will be a comfort to you to have me stay, I will wait till you have
+regained your strength. Then I will beg permission to breakfast with
+you!&quot; he said with his wonted calmness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I thank you!&quot; she answered--with a two-fold meaning, and left the
+room with a bearing more dignified than the duke had ever seen, as
+though she had an invisible companion of whom she was proud.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>ATTEMPTS TO RESCUE</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess remained absent a long time, while the duke sat
+at the
+window of the boudoir gazing out into the frosty winter morning, but
+without seeing what was passing outside. Before him lay a shattered
+happiness, a marred destiny. The happiness was his, the destiny hers.
+&quot;There is surely nothing weaker than a woman--even the strongest!&quot; he
+thought, shaking his head mournfully. Ought we not to punish this
+personator of Christ, who used his mask to break into the citadel of
+our circle and steal what did not belong to him? Pshaw, how could the
+poor fellow help it if an eccentric woman out of ennui--ah, no, we
+should not think of it! But--what is to be done now? Shall I sacrifice
+this superb creature to an insipid prejudice, because she sacrificed
+herself and everything else to a childish delusion? Where is the man
+pure enough to condemn you because when you give, you give wholly,
+royally, and in your proud self-forgetfulness fling what others would
+outweigh with kingly crowns into the lap of a beggar who can offer you
+nothing in exchange, not even appreciation of your value--which he is
+too uncultured to perceive.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas! such a woman--to be thrown away on such a man! And should I not
+save her? Should I weakly desert her--I, the only person who can
+forgive because I am the only one who <i>understands</i> her?--No! It would
+be against all the logic of destiny and reason, were I to suffer such a
+life to be wrecked by this religious humbug. What is the use of my cool
+brain, if I lose my composure <i>now</i>? <i>Allons donc</i>! I will bid
+defiance
+to fate and to every prejudice, clasp her in my arms, and destroy the
+divine farce!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Such was the train of the duke's thoughts. But his pale face and
+joyless expression betrayed what he would not acknowledge to himself:
+that his happiness was shattered. He gathered up the fragments and
+tried to join them together--but with the secret grief with which we
+bear home some loved one who could not be witheld from a dangerous
+path, knowing that, though the broken limbs may be healed, he can never
+regain his former strength.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So grave, Duke?&quot; asked a voice which sent the blood to his heart. The
+countess had entered--her step unheard on the soft carpet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He started up: &quot;Madeleine--my poor Madeleine! I was thinking of you and
+your fate!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have saddened you!&quot; she said, clasping her hands penitently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no!&quot; he drew the little hands down to his lips, and with a
+sorrowful smile kissed them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My cheerfulness can bear some strain--but the malapert must be
+permitted to be silent sometimes when there are serious matters to be
+considered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are too noble to let me feel that you are suffering. Yet I see
+it--you would not be the man you are if you did not suffer to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke bit his lips, it seemed as if he were struggling to repress a
+tear: &quot;Pshaw--we won't be sentimental! You have wept enough to-day! The
+world must not see tear-stains on your face. Give me a cup of coffee--I
+do not belong to the chosen few whom a mortal emotion raises far above
+all the needs of their mortal husk.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess rang for breakfast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The servant brought the dishes ordered into the boudoir, as the
+dining-room was not yet thoroughly heated. In the chimney-corner beside
+the blazing fire the coffee was already steaming in a silver urn over
+an alcohol lamp, filling the cosy room with its aroma and musical
+humming.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How pleasant this is!&quot; said the duke, throwing himself into an
+armchair beside the grave mistress of the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will pour it myself,&quot; she said to the servant who instantly
+withdrew. The countess was now simply dressed in black, without an
+ornament of any kind, and with her hair confined in a plain knot.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What a contrast!&quot; the duke remarked, smiling--&quot;you alone are capable
+of such metamorphoses. Half an hour ago in a court costume, glittering
+with diamonds, an aching heart, and hands half frozen from being
+clasped in prayer in the chilled church, now a demure little housewife,
+peacefully watching the coffee steam in a cosy little room, waiting
+intently for the moment when the water will boil, as if there were no
+task in the whole world more important than that of making a good
+decoction.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A faint smile glided over the countess' face--she had nearly allowed
+the important moment to pass. Now she poured out the coffee,
+extinguished the spirit lamp, and handed her companion a cup of the
+steaming beverage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A thousand thanks! Ah, that's enough to brighten the most downcast
+mood! What comfort! Now let us enjoy an hour of innocent, genuine
+plebeian happiness. Ah--how fortunate the people are who live so every
+day. I should be the very man to enjoy such bliss!&quot; His glance wandered
+swiftly to the countess' empty cup. &quot;Aha! I thought so! A great sorrow
+must of course be observed by mortifying the body, in order to be sure
+to succumb to it. Well, then the guest must do the honors of the
+hostess! There, now <i>ma chère Madeleine</i> will drink this, and dip this
+buscuit into it! One can accomplish that, even without an appetite. Who
+would wish to make heart and stomach identical!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, spite of her protestations, was forced to obey. She saw
+that the duke had asked for breakfast only to compel her to eat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There. You see that it can be done. I enjoy with a touch of emotion
+this coffee which your dear hands have prepared. If you would do the
+same with the cup I poured out what a sentimental breakfast it would
+be!&quot; A ray of the old cheerfulness sparkled in the duke's eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, I knew that with you alone I should find peace and cheer!&quot; said
+the countess, brightening.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So much the better.&quot; The duke lighted a cigarette and leaned
+comfortably back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess ordered the coffee equipage to be removed and then sat
+down opposite to him with her hands clasped in her lap.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The main point now, my dear Madeleine, if I may be allowed to speak of
+these things to you, is to release you from the cause of all the
+trouble--I need not name him. Of course I do not know how easy or how
+difficult this may be, because I am ignorant how far you are involved
+in this relation and unfortunately lack the long locks of the Christ,
+which would enable me successfully to play the part of the 'Good
+Shepherd,' who freed the imprisoned lamb from the thicket.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As if it depended on that!&quot; said the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not at all? Oh, women, women! What will not a few raven locks do? The
+destiny of your lives turns upon just such trifles. Imagine that
+Ammergau Christus with close-cropped hair and a bristling red beard!
+Would that mask have suited the illusion to which you sacrificed
+yourself? Hardly!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess made no reply, silenced by the pitiless truth, but at last
+she thought she must defend herself. &quot;And the religious impression, the
+elevation, the enthusiasm--the revelations of the Passion Play, do you
+count these nothing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly not! I felt them myself, but, believe me, you would not have
+transferred them to the person, if the representative of Christ had
+worn a wig, and the next day had appeared before you with stiff,
+closely-cropped red hair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess made a gesture of aversion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There, now you see the realist again. Yet, say what you will, a few
+locks of raven hair formed the net in which the haughty, clever
+Countess Wildenau was prisoned!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You may be right, the greatest picture consists of details, and may be
+spoiled by a single one. I will confess it--Yes! The harmony of the
+whole person, down to the most trifling detail, with the Christ
+tradition, enthralled me, and had the locks been wanting, the
+impression would not have been complete. But, however I may have been
+deceived in the image, I cannot let myself and him sink so low in your
+opinion as to permit you to believe that it was nothing save an
+ensnaring outward semblance which sealed my fate! Had not his spiritual
+nature completed the illusion--matters would never have gone so far.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes, I can imagine how it happened. You prompted the part, and he
+had skill enough to play to the prompter, as it is called in the
+parlance of the stage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'Skill' is not the right word, he was influenced precisely as I was.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! He probably would not have been so foolish as to refuse such a
+chance. A wealthy, beautiful woman--like you--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, no, do not speak of him in that way. I cannot let that accusation
+rest upon him. He is not base! He is uncultured, has the narrow-minded
+views of a peasant, is sensitive and capricious, an unfortunate
+temperament, with which it is impossible to live happily--but I know no
+one in the world, to whom any ignoble thought is more alien.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince gazed at her admiringly. Tears were sparkling in her eyes.
+&quot;I don't deny that I am bitterly disappointed in him--but though I love
+him no longer, I must not allow him to be insulted. He loved me and
+sacrificed his poor life for mine--that the compensation did not
+outweigh the price was no fault of his, and I ought not to make him
+responsible for it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke became very thoughtful. The countess was silent, she had
+clasped her hands on her knee, and was gazing, deeply moved, into
+vacancy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are a noble woman, Madeleine!&quot; he said in a low tone. &quot;I always
+ranked you high, but never higher than at this moment! I will never
+again wound your feelings. But however worthy of esteem Freyer
+may be, deeply as I pity the unfortunate man--you are my first
+consideration--and you cannot, must not continue in this relation.
+Throughout the whole system of the universe the lower existence must
+yield to the higher. You are the higher--therefore Freyer must be
+sacrificed! You are a philosopher--accept the results of your view of
+the world, be strong and resolve to do what is inevitable quickly. You
+yourself say that you no longer love him--whether you have ever done
+so, I will not venture to decide! If he is really what you describe him
+to be, he must feel this and--I believe, that he, too, is not to be
+envied. What kind of respite is this which you are granting the hapless
+man under the sword of the executioner. Pardon me, but I should term it
+torture. You feign, from motives of compassion, feelings you no longer
+have, and he feels the deception. So he is continually vibrating
+between the two extremes of fear and hope--a prey to the most torturing
+doubts. So you permit the victim whom you wish to kill to live, in
+order to destroy him slowly. You pity him--and for pity are cruel.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess cast a startled glance at him. &quot;You are terribly
+truthful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must say that I am sorry for that man,&quot; the duke went on in his
+usual manner. &quot;I think it is your duty to end this state of things. If
+he has a good, mentally sound character, he will conquer the blow and
+shape his life anew. But such a condition of uncertainty would unnerve
+the strongest nature. This cat and mouse sport is unworthy of you! You
+tried it with me ten years ago in a less painful way--I, knowing women,
+was equal to the game, so no harm was done, and I could well allow you
+the graceful little pastime. It is different with Freyer. A man of his
+stamp, who stakes his whole life upon a single feeling, takes the
+matter more tragically, and the catastrophe was inevitable. But must
+romance be carried to tragedy? See, my dear friend, that it is confined
+within its proper limits. Besides, you have already paid for it dearly
+enough--it has left an indelible impress upon your soul--borne a fruit
+which matured in suffering and you have buried with anguish because
+destiny itself, though with a stern hand, tried to efface the
+consequences of your error. Heed this portent, for your sake and his
+own! I speak in his behalf also. My aim is not only to win you, but to
+see the woman whom I have won worthy of herself and the high opinion I
+cherish of her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess' features betrayed the most intense emotion. What should
+she do? Should she tell this noble man all--confess that she was
+<i>married</i>. The hour that he discovered it, he would desert her. Must
+she lose him, her last support and consolation? No, she dared not. The
+drowning woman clung to him; she knew not what was to come of it--she
+only knew that she would be lost without him--and kept silence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where is he? In the old hunting-box of which your cousin Wildenau
+spoke?&quot; asked the duke after a long pause.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As what?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As steward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Steward? H'm!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke shook his head. &quot;What a relation; you made the man you loved
+your servant, and believed that you could love him still? How little
+you knew yourself! Had you seen him on the mountains battling with wind
+and storm as a wood-cutter, a shepherd, but free, you might have
+continued to love him. But as 'the steward' at whom the servants look
+with one eye as their equal, with the other as their mistress'
+favorite--never! You placed him in a situation where he could not help
+despising himself--how could you respect him? But a woman like you no
+longer loves where she can no longer esteem!&quot; He was silent a moment,
+then with sudden determination exclaimed: &quot;Do you understand what I say
+now? Not free yourself from him--but free <i>him</i> from <i>himself</i>! You
+have done the same thing as the giantess who carried the farmer and his
+plough home in her apron. Do you understand what a deep meaning
+underlies Chamisso's comical tale? The words with which the old giant
+ordered her to take her prize back to the spot where she found it, say
+everything: 'The peasant is no plaything.' Only in the sphere where a
+man naturally belongs is he of value, but this renders him too good for
+a toy. You have transplanted Freyer to a sphere in which he ceased to
+have any value to you and are now making him play a part there which I
+would not impose on my worst enemy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, you are right.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Finally we owe it to those who were once dear to us, not to make them
+ridiculous! Or do you believe that Freyer, if he had the choice, would
+not have pride enough to prefer the most cruel truth to a compassionate
+lie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And still more. We owe it to the law of truthfulness, under which we
+stand as moral beings, not to continue deliberately a deception which
+was perhaps unconsciously begun. When self-respect is lost--all is
+lost.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke rose: &quot;It is time for me to go. Consider my advice, I can say
+nothing more in your interest and his.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But what shall I do--how am I to find a gentle way--oh! Heaven, I
+don't know how to help myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do nothing at present, everything is still too fresh to venture upon
+any positive act--the wounds would bleed, and what ought to be severed
+would only grow together the more firmly. Go away for a time. You are
+out of favor with the queen. What is more natural than to go on a
+journey and sulk. To the so-called steward also, this must at present
+serve for a pretext to avoid a tragical parting scene.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go now! Now!--leave--you?&quot; she whispered, blushing as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Madeleine,&quot; he said gently, drawing her hand to his breast. &quot;How am I
+to interpret this blush? Is it the sign of a sweeter feeling, or
+embarrassment because circumstances have led you to say something which
+I might interpret differently from your intention?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She bent her head, blushing still more deeply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps you do not know yourself--I will not torture you with
+questions, which your agitated heart cannot answer now. But if anything
+really does bind you to me, then--I would suggest your joining my
+father at Cannes. If even the faintest feeling of affection for me is
+stirring within you, you will understand that we could never be nearer
+to each other than while you were learning to be my old father's
+daughter! Will you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes!&quot; she whispered with rising tears, for ever more beautiful, ever
+purer rose before her a happiness which she had forfeited, of which she
+would no longer be worthy, even could she grasp it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke, usually so sharp-sighted, could not guess the source of these
+tears; for the first time he was deceived and interpreted favorably an
+emotion aroused by the despairing perception that all was vain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He gazed down at her with a ray of love shining in his clear blue eyes,
+and pressed a kiss on her drooping brow. Then raising his hand, he
+pointed upward. &quot;Only have courage, and hold your head high. All will
+yet be well. Adieu!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He moved away as proudly, calmly and firmly as if success was assured;
+he did not suspect that he was leaving a lost cause.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_25" href="#div1Ref_25">CHAPTER XXV.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>DAY IS DAWNING</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">In the quiet chamber in the ancient hunting-castle, on the
+spot
+formerly occupied by the little bed, a casket now stood on two chairs
+near a wooden crucifix.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer had returned, bringing the body of his child. He had telegraphed
+to the countess, but received in reply only a few lines: &quot;She was
+compelled to set off on a journey at once, her mind was so much
+affected that her physician had advised immediate change of scene to
+avert worse consequences.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A check was enclosed to defray the funeral expenses and bestow a sum on
+Josepha &quot;as a recognition of her faithful service,&quot; sufficient to
+enable her to live comfortably in case she wished to rest. Josepha
+understood that this was a gracious form of dismissal. But the royal
+gift which expressed the countess' gratitude did not avail to subdue
+the terrible rancor in her soul, or the harshness of this dismissal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Morning was dawning. Josepha was changed by illness almost beyond
+recognition, yet she had watched through the night with Freyer beside
+the coffin. Now she again glanced over the letter which had come the
+evening before. &quot;She doesn't venture to send me away openly, and wants
+to satisfy me with money, that I may go willingly. Money, always money!
+I was forced to give up the child, and now I must lose you, too, the
+last thing I have in the world?&quot; she said to Freyer, who was sitting
+silently beside the coffin of his son. Tearing the cheque, she threw it
+on the floor. &quot;There are the fragments. When the child is buried, I
+know where I shall go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You will not leave here, Josepha, as long as I remain. Especially now
+that you are ill. I have been her servant long enough. But this is the
+limit where I cease to yield to her caprices. She cannot ask me to give
+you up also, my relative, the only soul in my boundless solitude. If
+she did, I would not do it, for--no matter how lowly my birth, I am
+still her husband; have I no rights whatever? You will stay with me, I
+desire it, and can do so the more positively as my salary is sufficient
+to support you. So you need accept no wages from her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, tell her so, say that I want nothing--nothing except to stay with
+you, near my angel's grave.&quot; Sobs stifled her words. After a time, she
+continued faintly: &quot;I shall not trouble her long, you can see that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Josepha, don't fancy such things. You are young and will recover!&quot;
+said Freyer consolingly, but his eyes rested anxiously upon her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She shook her head. &quot;The child was younger still, yet he died of
+longing for his mother, and I shall die of the yearning for him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then let me send for a doctor--you cannot go on in this way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, pray don't make any useless ado--it would only be one person more
+to question me about the child, and I shall be on thorns while I am
+deceiving him. You know I never could lie in my life. Leave me in
+peace, no doctor can help me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some one rang. Josepha opened the door. The cabinetmaker was bringing
+in a little coffin, which was to take the place of the box containing
+the leaden casket. Her black dress and haggard face gave her the
+semblance of a mother mourning her own child. Nothing was said during
+the performance of the work. Josepha and Freyer lifted the metal casket
+from the chest and placed it in the plain oak coffin. The man was paid
+and left the room. Freyer hastened out and shook the snow from some
+pine branches to adorn the bier. A few icicles which still clung to
+them thawed in the warm room, and the drops fell on the coffin--the
+tears of the forest! The last scion of the princely House of
+Prankenberg lay under frost-covered pine boughs; and a peasant mourned
+him as his son, a maid servant prepared him for his eternal rest. This
+is the bloodless revolution sometimes accomplished amid the ossified
+traditions of rank, which affords the insulted idea of universal human
+rights moments of loving satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The two mourners were calm and quiet. They seemed to have a premonition
+that this moment possessed a significance which raised it far above
+personal grief.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An hour later the pastor came--a few men and maid-servants formed the
+funeral procession. Not far from the castle, in the wood, stood a
+ruinous old chapel. The countess had permitted the child to be buried
+there because the churchyard was several leagues away. &quot;It is a great
+deal of honor for Josepha's child to be placed in the chapel of a noble
+family!&quot; thought the people. &quot;If haughty old Count Wildenau knew it, he
+would turn in his grave!&quot; The coffin was raised and borne out of the
+castle. Josepha, leaning on Freyer, followed silently with fixed,
+tearless eyes and burning cheeks. Yet she succeeded in wading through
+the snow and standing on the cold stone floor in the chilly chapel
+beside the grave. But when she returned home, the measure of her
+strength was exhausted. Her laboring lungs panted for breath; her icy
+feet could not be warmed; her heart, throbbing painfully, sent all the
+blood to her brain, which burned with fever, while her thoughts grew
+confused. The terrible chill completed the work of destruction
+commenced by grief. Freyer saw it with unutterable sorrow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must get a doctor!&quot; he said gently. &quot;Come, Josepha, don't stare
+steadily at the empty space where the body lay. Come, I will take you
+to my room and put you on the bed. Everything there will not remind you
+of the boy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I will stay here,&quot; she said, with that cruelty to herself,
+peculiar to sick persons who do not fear death. &quot;Just here!&quot; She clung
+to the uncomfortable sofa on which she sat as if afraid of being
+dragged away by force.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer hastily removed the chairs which had supported the coffin, the
+crucifix, and the candles.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, put them out, you will soon need them for me. Oh, you
+kind-hearted man. If only you could have the happiness you deserve. You
+merited a better fate. Ah, I will not speak of what she has done to me,
+but her sins against you and the child nothing can efface--nothing!&quot; A
+fit of coughing almost stifled her. But it seemed as if her eyes
+continued to utter the words she had not breath to speak, a feverish
+vengeance glittered in their depths which made Freyer fairly shudder.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Josepha,&quot; he said mildly, but firmly. &quot;Sacrifice your hate to God, and
+be merciful. If you love me, you must forgive her whom I love and
+forgive.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never!&quot; gasped Josepha with a violent effort &quot;Joseph--oh! this pain in
+my chest--I believe it is inflammation of the lungs!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas!--and there is no one to send for the doctor. The men are all in
+the woods. Go to bed, I beg you, there is not a moment to be lost, I
+must get the doctor myself. I will send the house-maid to you. Keep up
+your courage, I will be as quick as I can!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And he hurried off, forgetting his grief for his child in his anxiety
+about the last companion of his impoverished life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The house-maid came in and asked if she could do anything, but Josepha
+wanted no assistance. The anxious girl tried to persuade her to go to
+bed, but Josepha said that she could not breathe lying down. At last
+she consented to eat something. The nourishment did her good, her
+weakness diminished and her breathing grew easier. The girl put some
+wood in the stove and returned to her work in the kitchen. Josepha
+remained lost in thought. To her, death was deliverance--but Freyer,
+what would become of him if he lost her also? This alone rendered it
+hard to die. The damp wood in the stove sputtered and hissed like the
+voices of wrangling women. It was the &quot;fire witch,&quot; which always
+proclaims the approach of any evil. Josepha shook her head. What could
+be worse than the evil which had already befallen her poor cousin and
+herself? The fire witch continued to shriek and lament, but Josepha did
+not understand her. A pair of crows perched in an old pine tree outside
+the window croaked so suddenly that she started in terror.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ah, it was very lonely up here! What would it be when Freyer lived all
+alone in the house and waited months in vain for the heartless woman
+who remembered neither her husband nor her child? She had not troubled
+herself about the living, why should she seek the little grave where
+lay the <i>dead</i>?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A loud knock on the door of the house echoed through the silence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha listened. Surely it could not be the doctor already?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The maid opened it. Heavy footsteps and the voices of men were heard in
+the entry, then a dog howled. The stupid servant opened the door of the
+room and called: &quot;Jungfer Josepha, here are two hunters, who are so
+tired tramping over the snow that they would like to rest awhile. Can
+they come in? There is no fire anywhere else!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha, though so ill, of course could not refuse admittance to the
+freezing men, who were already on the threshold. Rising with an effort
+from the sofa, she pushed some chairs for the strangers near the stove.
+&quot;I am ill,&quot; she said in great embarrassment--&quot;but if you wish to rest
+and warm yourselves here, I beg--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We are very grateful,&quot; said one of the hunters, a gentleman with a red
+moustache and piercing eyes. &quot;If we do not disturb you, we will gladly
+accept your hospitality. We are not familiar with the neighborhood and
+have lost our way. We came from beyond the frontier and have been
+wading through the snow five hours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Meanwhile, at a sign from Josepha, the maid-servant had taken the
+gentlemen's cloaks and hunting gear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;See, this is our booty,&quot; said the other hunter. &quot;If we might invite
+you to dine with us, I should almost venture to ask if this worthy lass
+could not roast the hare for us? Our cousin, Countess Wildenau, will
+surely forgive us this little trespass upon her preserves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you relatives of Countess Wildenau?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, her nearest and most faithful ones!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha, in her mortal weakness felt as if crushed by the presence of
+these strangers--with their heavy hunting-boots and loud voices. She
+tried to take refuge in the kitchen on the pretense of roasting the
+hare herself. But both gentlemen earnestly protested against it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, indeed, that would be fine business to drive you out of your room
+when you are ill! In that case, we must leave the house at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The red-bearded gentleman--Cousin Wildenau himself--sprang from his
+chair and almost forced Josepha to go back to her sofa.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There, my dear--madam--or miss? Now do me the honor to take your seat
+again and allow us to remain a short time unto the roast is ready, then
+you must dine with us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A faint smile hovered around Josepha's parched lips. &quot;I thank you, but
+I am too ill to eat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are really very ill&quot;--said the stranger with kindly solicitude.
+&quot;You are feverish. I fear we are disturbing you very much. Pray send us
+away if we annoy you.&quot; Yet he knew perfectly well that she could not
+help asking the unbidden guests to stay.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But my dear--madam--or miss?&quot;--Josepha never answered the
+question--&quot;are you doing nothing to relieve your illness, have you had
+no physician?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No we are in such a secluded place, a physician cannot always be had.
+But I am expecting one to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, it is strange to live in this wilderness. And how uncomfortable
+you are, you haven't even a stool,&quot; said the red-haired cousin putting
+his huge hunting-muff, after warming it at the stove, under her feet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha tried to refuse it, but he would not listen.
+&quot;You need not mind us, we are sick nurses ourselves, we commanded a
+sanitary battalion in the war. So we understand a little what to do.
+You are suffering from asthma, it is difficult for you to breathe, so
+you must sit comfortably. There! Now put my cousin's muff at your back.
+That's better, isn't it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But pray--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, come, come--no contradiction. You must be comfortable.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha was ashamed. The gentlemen were so kind, so solicitous about
+her--there were good people in the world! The neglected, desolate heart
+gratefully appreciated the unusual kindness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But I am really astonished to find everything so primitive. Our
+honored cousin really ought to have done something more for your
+comfort. Not even a sofa-cushion, no carpet! I should have thought she
+would have paid more attention to so faithful a--&quot; he courteously
+suppressed the word &quot;servant&quot;--and correcting himself, said:
+&quot;assistant!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha made no answer, but her lips curled bitterly, significantly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Wildenau noted it. &quot;Dissatisfied!&quot; escaped his lips, so low that only
+his companion heard it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have been here a long time, I suppose--how many years?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have I been with her?&quot; said Josepha frankly. &quot;Since the last Passion
+Play. That will be ten years next summer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah--true--you are a native of Ammergau!&quot; said the baron, with the
+manner of one familiar with the facts, whose memory has failed for an
+instant. &quot;I suppose you came to the countess at the same time as the
+Christus?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is he a relative of yours?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, my cousin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is here still, isn't he?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, of course.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is--her--what is his title?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Steward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is he at home?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, he has gone to the city for a doctor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I am very sorry. We should have been glad to make his
+acquaintance. We have heard so many pleasant things about him. A man in
+whom our cousin was so much interested--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then she speaks of him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh--to her intimate friends--certainly!&quot; said Wildenau equivocally
+gazing intently at Josepha, whose face beamed with joy at the thought
+that the countess spoke kindly of Freyer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why is he never seen in the city? He must live like a hermit up here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Heaven knows that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He ought to visit my cousin sometimes in the city, everybody would be
+glad to know the Ammergau Christus.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But if she doesn't wish it--!&quot; said Josepha thoughtlessly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, that would be another matter certainly, but she has never told me
+so. Why shouldn't she wish it?&quot; murmured Wildenau with well-feigned
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because she is ashamed of him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot; Wildenau almost caught his breath at the significance of the
+word. &quot;But, tell me, why does Herr Freyer--isn't that his name--submit
+to it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha shrugged her shoulders. &quot;Yes, what can he do about it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A pause ensued. Josepha stopped, as if fearing to say too much. The two
+gentlemen had become very thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last Wildenau resumed the conversation. &quot;I don't understand how a
+man who surely might find a pleasant position anywhere, can be so
+dependent on a fine lady's whims. You won't take it amiss, I see that
+your kinsman's position troubles you--were I in his place I would give
+up the largest salary rather than--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Salary?&quot; interrupted Josepha, with flashing eyes. &quot;Do you suppose that
+my cousin would do anything for the sake of a salary? Oh, you don't
+know him. If the countess described him to you in that way, the shame
+is hers!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Wildenau listened intently. &quot;But, my dear woman, that isn't what I
+meant, you would not let me finish! I was just going to add that such a
+motive would not affect your kinsman, that it could be nothing but
+sincere devotion, which bound him to our cousin--a loyalty which
+apparently wins little gratitude.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I always tell him so--but he won't admit it--even though his
+heart should break.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Two dark interlaced veins in Josepha's sunken, transparent temples
+throbbed feverishly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But--how do you feel? We are certainly disturbing you!&quot; said the
+baron.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no! It does not matter!&quot; replied Josepha, courteously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Could you not take us into some other room--the countess doubtless
+comes here constantly--there must be other apartments which can be
+heated.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, but no fire has been made in them for weeks; the stoves will
+smoke.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has not the countess been here for so long?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, she scarcely ever comes now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But the time must be very long to you and your cousin--you were
+doubtless accustomed to the countess' visits.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly,&quot; replied Josepha, lost in thought--&quot;when I think how it
+used to be--and how things are now!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Wildenau glanced around the room, then said softly: &quot;And the little
+son--he is dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha stared at him in terror. &quot;Do you know that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know all. My cousin has his picture in her boudoir, a splendid
+child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha's poor feverish brain was growing more and more confused. The
+tears she had scarcely conquered flowed again. &quot;Yes, wasn't he--and to
+let such a child die without troubling herself about him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is inexcusable,&quot; said Wildenau.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If the countess ever speaks of it again, tell her that Josepha loved
+it far more than she, for she followed it to the grave while the mother
+enjoyed her life--she must be ashamed then.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will tell her. It is a pity about the beautiful child--was it not
+like an Infant Christ?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed it was--and now I know what picture you mean. In Jerusalem,
+where the child was christened, a copy as they called it of the Infant
+Christ hung in the chapel over the baptismal font. The countess
+afterwards bought the picture on account of its resemblance to the
+boy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I suppose it resembles Herr Freyer, too?&quot; the baron remarked
+carelessly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Somewhat, but the mother more!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Baron Wildenau began to find the room too warm--and went to the window
+a moment to get the air, while his companion, horrified by these
+disclosures, shook his head. He would gladly have told the deluded
+woman that they had only learned the child's death from a wood-cutter
+whom they met in the forest--but he dared not &quot;contradict&quot; his cousin.
+After a pause, Wildenau again turned to Josepha. He saw that there was
+danger in delay, for at any moment the fever might increase to such a
+degree that she would begin to rave and no longer be capable of making
+a deposition: The truth must be discovered, now or never! He felt,
+however, that Josepha's was no base nature which could be led to betray
+her employer by ordinary means. Caution and reflection were necessary.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am really touched by your fidelity to my cousin. Any one who can
+claim such a nature is fortunate. I thank you in her name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He held out his hand. But she replied with her usual blunt honesty: &quot;I
+don't deserve your thanks, sir. I have not remained here for the sake
+of the countess, but on account of the child and my unfortunate cousin.
+She has been kind to me--but--if I should see her to-day, I would tell
+her openly that I would never forgive her treatment of the child and
+Joseph--no matter what she did. The child is dead and my cousin will
+die too. Thank Heaven, I shall not live to witness it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I understand you perfectly--oh, I know my cousin. And--my poor dear
+Fräulein Josepha--I may call you Fräulein now, may I not, since you are
+no longer obliged to pass for the child's mother?--it was an
+unprecedented sacrifice for you--! Alas! My dear Fräulein, you and your
+cousin must be prepared to fare still worse, to be entirely forgotten,
+for I can positively assure you that the countess is about to wed the
+Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What?&quot; Josepha shrieked loudly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Wildenau watched her intently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She has just gone to Cannes, where the old duke is staying, and the
+announcement of the engagement is daily expected.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is impossible--it cannot be!&quot; murmured Josepha, trembling in every
+limb.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But why not? She is free--has a right to dispose of her hand--&quot;
+Wildenau persisted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No--she is not--she cannot marry,&quot; cried Josepha, starting from her
+sofa in despair and standing before them with glowing cheeks and red
+hair like a flame which blazes up once more before expiring. &quot;For
+Heaven's sake--it would be a crime!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But who is to prevent it?&quot; asked Wildenau breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I!&quot; groaned Josepha, summoning her last strength.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You?--My dear woman, what can you do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;More than you suppose!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then tell me, that we may unite to prevent the crime ere it is too
+late.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, by Heaven! Before I will allow her to do Joseph this wrong--I
+will turn traitor to her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But Herr Freyer has no right to ask the countess not to marry again--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No right?&quot; she repeated with terrible earnestness, &quot;are you so sure of
+that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is only the countess' lover--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Her lover?&quot; sobbed Josepha in mingled wrath and anguish: &quot;Joseph, you
+noble upright man--must <i>this</i> be said of you--!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't understand. If he is not her lover--what is he?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Josepha could bear no more. &quot;He is her husband--her legally wedded
+husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The baron almost staggered under this unexpected, unprecedented
+revelation. Controlling himself with difficulty, he seized the sick
+woman's hand, as if to sustain her lest she should break down, ere he
+had extorted the last disclosure from her--the last thing he must know.
+&quot;Only tell me where and by whom the marriage ceremony was performed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As if under the gaze of a serpent the victim yielded to the stronger
+will: &quot;At Prankenburg--Martin and I--were witnesses.&quot; She slipped from
+his hand, her senses grew confused, her eyes became glassy, her chest
+heaved convulsively in the struggle for breath, but the one word which
+she still had consciousness to utter--was enough for the Wildenaus.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When, a few hours later, Freyer returned with the physician and the
+priest, whom he had thoughtfully brought with him, he found Josepha
+alone on the sofa, speechless, and in the last agonies of death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The physician, after examining her, said that an acute inflammation of
+the lungs had followed the tuberculosis from which she had long
+suffered and hastened her end. The priest gave her the last sacrament
+and remained with Freyer, sitting beside the bed in which she had been
+laid. The death-struggle was terrible. She seemed to be constantly
+trying to tell Freyer something which she was unable to utter. Three
+times life appeared to have departed, and three times she rallied
+again, as if she could not die without having relieved her heart of its
+burden. Vain! It was useless for Freyer to put his ear to her lips, he
+could not understand her faltering words. It was a terrible night! At
+last, toward morning, she grew calm, and now she could die. Leaning on
+his breast, she ceased her struggles to speak, and slowly breathed her
+last. <i>She</i> had conquered and she now knew that <i>he</i> would conquer
+also. She bowed her head with a smile, and her last glance was fixed on
+him, a look of reconciliation rested on her Matures--her soul soared
+upward--day was dawning!</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_26" href="#div1Ref_26">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE LAST SUPPORT</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">There was alarm in the Wildenau Palace. The countess had
+suddenly
+returned, without notifying the servants--in plain words, without
+asking the servants' permission. She had intended to remain absent
+several months--they were not prepared, had nothing ready, nothing
+cleaned, not even a single room in her suite of apartments heated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She seemed absent-minded, went to her rooms at once, and locked herself
+in. Then her bell rang violently--the servants who were consulting
+together below scattered, the maids darted up the main staircase, the
+men up a side flight.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I want the coachman, Martin!&quot; was the unexpected order.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Martin isn't here,&quot; the footman ventured to answer--&quot;as we did not
+know ...&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then send for him!&quot; replied the countess imperiously. She did not
+appear even to notice the implied reproof. Then she permitted the
+attendant to make a fire on the hearth, for it was a raw, damp day in
+early spring, and after her stay in Cannes, the weather seemed like
+Siberia.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Half an hour elapsed. Meanwhile the maids were unpacking, and the
+countess was arranging a quantity of letters she had brought with her.
+They were all numbered, and of ancient date. Among them was one from
+Freyer, written four weeks previously, containing only the words:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Even in death, Josepha has filled a mother's place to our child--she
+has rested in the chapel with him since this morning. I think you will
+not object to her being buried there.</p>
+
+<p class="right">&quot;<span class="sc">Joseph</span>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess again glanced at the letter, her eyes rested on the errors
+in orthography. Such tragical information, with so terrible a reproach
+between the lines--and the effect--a ludicrous one! She would gladly
+have effaced the mistakes in order not to be ashamed of having given
+this man so important a part in the drama of her life--but they stood
+there with the distinctness of a boy's unpractised hand. A man who
+could not even write correctly! She had not noticed it before, he wrote
+rarely and always very briefly--or had she possessed no eyes for his
+faults at that time? Yes, she must have been blind, utterly blind. She
+had not answered the letter. Now she tore it up and threw it into the
+fire. Josepha's death would have been a deliverance to her, had she not
+a few weeks later received another letter which she now read once more,
+panting for breath. But, however frequently she perused its contents,
+she found only that old Martin entreated her to return--Josepha had
+&quot;blabbed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That one word in the stiff hand of the faithful old servant, which
+looked as if it might have been scrawled with a match upon paper
+redolent of the odors of the stable, had so startled the countess that
+she left Cannes by the first train, and traveled day and night to reach
+home. A nervous restlessness made the sheet tremble in her hand as she
+thrust it into the flames. Then she paced restlessly to and fro. Martin
+was keeping her waiting so long.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A little supper had been hurriedly prepared and was now served. But
+the countess scarcely touched the food and, complaining that the
+dining-room was cold, crept back to her boudoir. At last, about half
+past nine, Martin was announced. He had gone to bed and they had been
+obliged to rouse him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is Your Highness going out?&quot; asked the footman, who could not
+understand the summons to Martin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I am, you will receive orders for the carriage,&quot; replied his
+mistress, and a flash from her eyes silenced the servant. &quot;Let Martin
+come in!&quot; she added in a harsh, imperious tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man opened the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are dismissed for to-night. The lights can be put out,&quot; she added.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Martin stood, hat in hand, awaiting his mistress' commands. A few
+minutes passed, then the countess noiselessly went to the door to see
+that the adjoining rooms were empty and that no one was listening. When
+she returned she drew the heavy curtains over the door to deaden every
+sound. Then her self-control gave way and rushing to the old coachman
+she grasped his hand. &quot;Martin, for Heaven's sake, what has happened?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Tears glittered in Martin's eyes, as he saw his mistress' alarm, and he
+took her trembling hands as gently as if they were the reins of a fiery
+blooded horse, on which a curb has been placed for the first time.
+&quot;Ho--ho--dear Countess, only keep quiet, quiet,&quot; he said in the
+soothing tones used to his frightened steeds: &quot;All is not lost! I
+didn't let myself be caught, and there's no proof of what Josepha
+blabbed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So they tried to catch you? Tell me&quot;--she was trembling--&quot;how did they
+come to you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well,&quot; said Martin clumsily, &quot;this is how it was. They seem to have
+driven Josepha into a corner. At her funeral the cook told me that just
+before she died, two strangers came to the house and had a long
+conversation with the sick woman. When the hare she was ordered to cook
+was done, she carried it up. But the people in the room were talking so
+loud that she didn't dare go in and stood at the door listening.
+Something was said about the countess' favor and a crime, and Josepha
+was terribly excited. Suddenly she heard nothing more, Josepha
+stammered a few unintelligible words, and the gentlemen came out with
+faces as red as fire. They left the hare in the lurch--and off they
+went. Josepha died the same night. Then I thought they might be the
+Barons von Wildenau, because their coachman had often tried to pump me
+about our countess, and I said to myself, 'now I'll do the same to
+him.' And sure enough I found out that the gentlemen had gone away, and
+where? To Prankenberg!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess turned pale and sank into an arm-chair. &quot;There,
+there--Your Highness, don't be troubled,&quot; Martin went on calmly--&quot;that
+will do them no good, the church books don't lie open on the tavern
+tables like bills of fare, and the old pastor will not let everybody
+meddle with them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The old pastor?&quot; cried the countess despairingly--&quot;he is dead, and
+since my father, the prince, has grown weak-minded, the patronage has
+lapsed to the government. The new pastor has no motive for showing us
+any consideration.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So the old pastor is dead? H'm, H'm!&quot; Martin for the first time shook
+his head anxiously. &quot;If one could only get a word from His Highness the
+Prince--just to find out whether the marriage was really entered in the
+record.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, if we knew that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Martin smiled with a somewhat embarrassed look. &quot;I ventured to take a
+little liberty--and went--I thought I would try whether I could find
+out anything from him? Because His Highness--you remember--followed us
+to Prankenberg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very true!&quot; The countess nodded in the utmost excitement. &quot;Well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas!--it was useless! His Highness doesn't know anybody, can remember
+nothing. When you go over to-morrow, you will see that he can't live
+long. His Highness is perfectly childish. Then he got so excited that
+we thought he would lose his breath, and at last had to be put to bed.
+I could not help weeping when I saw it--such a stately gentleman--and
+now so helpless!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess listened to this report with little interest. Her father
+had been nothing to her while he retained his mental faculties--now, in
+a condition of slow decay, he was merely a poor invalid, to whom she
+performed the usual filial duties.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go on, go on,&quot; she cried impatiently, &quot;you are not telling the story
+in regular order. When did you see my father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A week ago, after my talk with the gentlemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is the main thing--tell me about that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, it was this way: I was sitting quietly at the tavern one night,
+when Herr von Wildenau's coachman came to me again and said that his
+master wanted to talk with me about our bay mare with the staggers
+which he would like to harness with his bay. I was glad that we could
+get the mare off on him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Fie, Martin!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why--if nobody tried to cheat, there wouldn't be any more
+horse-trading! So I told him I thought the countess would sell the
+mare--we had no mate for her and I would inform Your Highness. No, the
+gentleman would write directly to Her Highness--only I must go to them,
+they wanted to talk with me. Well--I went, and they shut all the doors
+and pulled the curtains over them, just as your Highness did, and then
+they began on the bay and promised me a big fee, if I would get her
+cheap for them. Every coachman takes a fee,&quot; the old man added in an
+embarrassed tone, &quot;it's the custom--you won't be vexed, Countess--so I
+made myself a bit important and pretended that it depended entirely on
+me, and I would make Her Highness so dissatisfied with the mare that
+she would be glad to get rid of her cheap, and--all the rest of the
+things we coachmen say! So the gentlemen thought because I bargained
+with them about one thing, I would about another. But that was quite
+different from a horse-trade, and my employers are no animals to be
+sold, so they found that they had come to the wrong person. If I would
+make a little extra money by getting rid of a poor animal, which we had
+long wanted to sell, I'm not the rascal to take thousands from anybody
+to deprive my employers of house and home. And the poor old Prince,
+who can no longer help himself, would perhaps be left to starve in his
+old age. No, the gentlemen were mistaken in old Martin, they don't
+know what it is&quot;--tears were streaming down the old man's wrinkled
+cheeks--&quot;to put such a little princess on a horse for the first time
+and place the reins in her tiny hands.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Please go on Martin,&quot; said the countess gently, scarcely able to exert
+any better control over herself. &quot;What did they offer you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A great deal of money, if I would bear witness in court that you were
+married.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot;--the terrified woman covered her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There--there, Countess,&quot; said Martin, soothingly. &quot;I haven't finished!
+Hold your head up. Your Highness, I beg you, this is no time to be
+faint-hearted, we must be on the watch and keep the reins well in hand,
+that they may not get the start of us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes! Go on!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, they tried to catch me napping. They knew everything, and I had
+been a witness of the wedding at Prankenberg!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens!&quot; The countess seemed paralyzed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Martin laughed. &quot;But I didn't let myself be caught--I looked as stupid
+as if I couldn't bridle a horse, and had never heard of any wedding in
+all my days except our Princess' marriage to the late Count. Of course
+I was at the church then, with all the other servants. Then the
+gentlemen muttered something in French--and asked what wages I had, and
+when I told them, they said they were too low for such rich employers,
+and began to make me offers till they reached fifty thousand marks, if
+I would state what they wanted. Yes, and then they told me you were
+capable of marrying two men and meant to take the duke as well as the
+steward, and they didn't want to have such a crime in the family--so I
+must help them prevent it. But this didn't move me at all, and I said:
+'That's no concern of mine; my mistress knows what to do!' So off I
+went, and left the gentlemen staring like balky horses when they don't
+want to pass anything. Then I went to the Prince, and as I could learn
+nothing there, I knew of no other way than to write to Your Highness. I
+hope you'll pardon the liberty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Martin, you trusty old servant! Your simple loyalty shames me; but
+I fear that your sacrifice is useless--they know all, Martin, nothing
+can save me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Martin smiled craftily into the bottom of his hat, as if it was the
+source of his wisdom, &quot;I think just this: If the gentlemen <i>do</i> know
+everything, they have got to <i>prove</i> it, for Josepha is dead, and if
+they had found the information they wanted at Prankenberg, they needn't
+offer so much money for my testimony!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess pressed her hand upon her head: &quot;I don't know, I can't
+think any more. Oh, Martin, how shall I thank you? If the stroke of the
+pen which will give you the fifty thousand marks you scorned to receive
+from the Wildenaus can repay you--take it, but I shall still be your
+debtor.&quot; She hurriedly wrote a few words. &quot;There is a check for fifty
+thousand marks, cash it early to-morrow morning. Don't delay an hour,
+any day may be the last that I shall have anything to give. Take it
+quickly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Martin shook his head. &quot;Why, what is Your Highness thinking of? I
+don't want to be paid, like a bribed witness, for doing only my duty.
+There would have been no credit in refusing the money, if I took it
+afterward from Your Highness. No, I thank you most humbly--but I can't
+do it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess was deeply ashamed. &quot;But if I lose my property, Martin, if
+they begin a law-suit--I can no longer reward your fidelity. Have you
+considered that everything can be taken from me if they succeed in
+proving that I am married?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Martin nodded: &quot;Yes, yes, I know our late master's will. I believe he
+was jealous and wanted to prevent the countess from marrying again. But
+you needn't be troubled about me, I've saved enough to buy a little
+home which, in case of need, might shelter the countess and Herr
+Freyer, too. I have had it all from you!&quot; Martin's broad face beamed
+with joy at the thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Martin!&quot;--she could say no more. Martin did not know what had
+happened--surely the skies would fall--the countess had sunk upon his
+breast, the broad old breast in which throbbed such a stupid, honest
+heart! He stood as motionless as a post or the pile of a bridge, to
+which a drowning person clings. But, during all the sixty-five years
+his honest heart had beat under the Prankenberg livery, it had never
+throbbed so violently as at this moment. His little princess! She was
+in his arms again as in the days when he placed her in the saddle for
+the first time. Then she wept and clung to him whenever the horse made
+a spring, but he held her firmly and she felt safe in his care--now she
+again wept and clung to him in helpless terror--but now she was a
+stately woman who had outgrown his protection!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There--there, Countess,&quot; he said, soothingly. &quot;God will help you. Go
+to rest. You are wearied by the long journey. To-morrow you will see
+everything with very different eyes. And, as I said before, if all the
+ropes break--then you will find lodging with old Martin. You always
+liked peasants' fare. Don't you remember how you used to slip in to the
+coachman's little room and shared my bread and cheese till the
+governess found it out and spoiled our fun? Yes, yes, bread and cheese
+were forbidden dainties, and yet they were God's gift which even the
+poorest might enjoy. You must remember the coachman's little room and
+how they tasted! Well, we haven't gone so far yet, and Your Highness'
+friends will not suffer it. Yet, if matters ever <i>did</i> come to that, I
+believe Your Highness would rather accept a home from me than from any
+of these noblemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You may be right there!&quot; said the countess, with a thoughtful nod.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May God guard Your Highness from either.--Has Your Highness any
+farther orders?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, my good Martin. Go early to-morrow morning to the Prince--or
+rather the Duke of Metten-Barnheim--and ask him to call on me at ten
+o'clock.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas--the duke went to shoot black cock this morning--I suppose he
+didn't know that Your Highness was coming?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly not How long will he be away?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Till the end of the week, his coachman told me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This too!&quot; She stood in helpless despair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The coachman said that His Highness was going to Castle
+Sternbach--perhaps Your Highness might telegraph there!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, my good old friend--you are right!&quot; And with eager haste she
+wrote a telegram. &quot;There it is, Martin, it will reach him somewhere!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And she remembered the message despatched nine years before, after the
+Passion Play, to the man whom she was now recalling as her last
+support. At that time she informed him that she should stay in Ammergau
+and let the roses awaiting her at home wither--now she remained at home
+and let the roses that bloomed for her in Ammergau languish.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The coachman, as if reading the mute language of her features and the
+bitter expression of her compressed lips, asked timidly: &quot;I suppose
+Your Highness will not drive to the Griess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No!&quot; she said, so curtly and hastily that it cut short any farther
+words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For the first time a shadow flitted over honest Martin's face. Sadly,
+almost reproachfully, he wished his beloved mistress &quot;a good night's
+rest,&quot; and stumbled wearily out. It had hurt him,--but &quot;the last thing
+he had discovered,&quot; he did not venture, out of respect to his employer,
+to express even to himself.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_27" href="#div1Ref_27">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>BETWEEN POVERTY AND DISGRACE</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Three weary days had passed. The countess was ill. At least
+she
+permitted her household to believe that she was unable to leave her
+room. No one was allowed to know that she had returned, and the windows
+of the Wildenau Palace remained closed, as when the owner was absent
+Thus condemned to total inactivity in the twilight of her apartments,
+she became the helpless prey of her gnawing anxiety. The third day
+brought a glimmer of hope, a telegram from the duke: &quot;I will come at
+six this evening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess trembled and turned pale as she read the lines. What was
+to be done now? She did not know, she only felt that the turning-point
+of her life had come.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Duke of Metten-Barnheim will call this evening and must be
+admitted, but no one else!&quot; were the orders given to the servant.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then, to pass away the time, she changed her dress. If she was to be
+poor and miserable, to possess nothing she formerly owned; she would at
+least be beautiful, beautiful as the setting sun which irradiates
+everything with rosy light.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And with the true feminine vanity which coquets with death and finds a
+consolation in being beautiful even in the coffin, she chose for the
+momentous consultation impending one of the most bewitching negligeé
+costumes in her rich wardrobe. Ample folds of rose-colored <i>crêpe de
+chine</i> were draped over an under-dress of pink plush, which reflected a
+thousand shades from the deepest rose to the palest flesh color, the
+whole drapery loosely caught with single grey pearls. How long would
+she probably possess such garments? She perhaps wore it to-day for the
+last time. Her trembling hand was icy cold, as she wound a pink ribbon
+through her curls and fastened it with a pearl clasp.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There she stood, like Aphrodite, risen from the foam of the sea,
+and--she smiled bitterly--she could not even raise herself from the
+mire into which a single error had lured her. Then she was again
+overwhelmed by an unspeakable consciousness of misery, her disgrace,
+which made all her splendor seem a mockery. She was on the point of
+stripping off the glittering robe when the duke was announced. It was
+too late to change.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She hurried into the boudoir to meet him--floating in like a roseate
+cloud.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How beautiful!&quot; exclaimed the duke, admiringly; &quot;you look like a
+bride! It must be some joyful cause which brought you back here so soon
+and made you send for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On the contrary, Duke--a bride of misfortune--a penitent who would
+fain varnish the ugliness of her guilt in her friend's eyes by outward
+beauty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;H'm! That would be at any rate a useless deed, Madeleine; for
+beautiful as you are, I do not love you for your beauty's sake. Nor is
+it for your virtues--you never aspired to be a saint, not even in
+Ammergau, where you least succeeded! What I love is the whole grand
+woman with all her faults, who seems to have been created for me, in
+spite of the obstacles reared between us by temperament and
+circumstances. The latter are accidents which may prevent our union,
+but which cannot deprive me of my share in you, the part which <i>I</i>
+alone understand, and which I shall love when I see you before me as a
+white-haired matron, weary of life--perhaps then for the first time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Emotion stifled the countess' words. She drew him down upon a chair by
+her side and sank feebly upon the cushions of her divan.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, how cold your hands are!&quot; said the duke, gazing with loving
+anxiety into her eyes. &quot;You alarm me. Spite of your rosy glimmer, you
+are pale as your own pearls. And now pearls in your eyes too?
+Madeleine--my poor tortured Madeleine--what has happened?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Duke--help, advise me--or all is lost. The Wildenaus have
+discovered my secret. Josepha, that half-crazy girl from Ammergau, has
+betrayed me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So that is her gratitude for the life you saved.&quot; The duke nodded as
+if by no means surprised. &quot;It was to be expected from that sort of
+person. Why did you preserve the fool?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I could not let her leap into the water.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps it would have been better! This sham-saint had not even
+sufficient healthful nature in her to be grateful?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, she had reason to hate me, she loved my child more than any
+earthly thing and reproached me for having neglected it. These people
+can imagine love only in the fulfillment of lowly duties and physical
+attendance. That a woman can have no time or understanding of these
+things, and yet love, is beyond their comprehension.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A fine state of affairs, where the servant makes herself the judge of
+her mistress--nay even discovers in her conduct an excuse for the
+basest treachery. A plain maid-servant, properly reared by her parents,
+would have fulfilled her duty to her employers without philosophizing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess nodded, she was thinking of old Martin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But,&quot; the duke continued, &quot;extra allowance must of course be made for
+these Ammergau people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We will let her rest; she is dead. Who knows how it happened, or the
+struggles through which she passed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is she dead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, she died just after the child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed?&quot; said the duke, thoughtfully, in a gentler tone: &quot;Well, then
+at least she has atoned. But, my dear Madeleine, this does not undo the
+disaster. The Wildenaus will at any rate try to make capital out of
+their knowledge of your secret, and, as the dear cousins are constantly
+incurring gaming and other debts--especially your red-haired kinsman
+Fritz--they will not let slip the opportunity of making their honored
+cousin pay for their discretion the full amount of their notes!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, if that were all!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That all! What more could there be? I admit that it is unspeakably
+painful for you to know that your honor and your deepest secrets are in
+such hands--but how long will it be ere, if it please God, you will be
+in a position which will remove you from it all, and I--!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Duke--Good Heavens!--It is far worse,&quot; cried the countess, wringing
+her hands: &quot;Oh, merciful God--at last, at last, it must be told. You do
+not know all, the worst--I had not courage to tell you--are you aware
+of the purport of my late husband's will?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly--it runs that you must restore the property, of which he
+makes you sole heiress, to the cousins, if you marry again. What of
+that--do you suppose I ever thought of your millions?&quot; He laughed
+gayly: &quot;I flatter myself that my finances will not permit you to feel
+the withdrawal of your present income when you are my wife.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Omnipotent Father!--You do not understand me! This is the moment I
+have always dreaded--oh, had I only been truthful. Duke, forgive me,
+pity me, I am the most miserable creature under the sun. I shall not be
+your wife, but a beggar--for I am married, and the Wildenaus know it
+through Josepha!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There are moments when it seems as if the whole world was silent--as if
+the stars paused in their courses to listen, and we hear nothing save
+the pulsing of the blood in our ears. It is long ere we perceive any
+other sound. This was the case with the duke. For a long time he seemed
+to himself both deaf and blind. Then he heard the low hissing of the
+gas jets, then heavy breathing, and at last the earth began to turn on
+its axis again and things resumed their natural relations.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet his energetic nature did not need much time to recover its poise.
+One glance at the hopeless, drooping woman showed him that this was not
+the hour to think of himself--that he never had more serious duties to
+perform than to-day. Now he perceived for the first time that he had
+unconsciously retreated from her half the length of the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She held out her hand imploringly, and with the swiftness of thought he
+was once more at her side, clasping it in his own. &quot;I have concealed
+this, deceived your great, noble love--for years--because I perceived
+that you were as necessary to my life as reason and science and all the
+other gifts I once undervalued. I did not venture to reveal the secret,
+lest I should lose you. The moment has come--you will leave me, for you
+must now make another choice--but do not be angry, grant me the <i>one</i>
+consolation of parting without rancor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We have not yet gone so far. I told you ten minutes ago that the
+accidents of temperament and circumstance may divide us, but cannot rob
+you of what was created for me, we do not part so quickly.--You have
+not deceived me, for you have never told me that you loved me or would
+become my wife, and your bearing was blameless. Your husband might have
+witnessed every moment of our intercourse. Believe me, the slightest
+coquetry, the smallest concession in my favor at your husband's expense
+would find in me the sternest possible judge. But though an unhappy
+wife, you were a loyal one--to that I can bear witness. If I yielded to
+illusions, it is no fault of yours--who can expect a nature so
+delicately strung as yours to make an executioner of the heart of her
+best friend? Those are violent measures which would not accord with the
+sweet weakness, which renders you at once so guilty and so excusable.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess hid her face as if overwhelmed by remorse and shame.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not let us lose our composure and trust to me to care for you
+still, for your present position requires the utmost caution and
+prudence. But now, Madeleine--you have no further pretext for not
+telling me the whole truth! Now I must know <i>all</i> to be able to act.
+Will you answer my questions?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then tell me--are you really married to Freyer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So the farce must end tragically!&quot; murmured the duke. &quot;I cannot, will
+not believe it--it is too shocking that a woman like you should be
+ruined by the Ammergau farce.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not by that; by the presumption with which I sought to draw the deity
+down to me. Oh, it is a hard punishment. I prayed so fervently to God
+and, instead of His face, He showed me a mask and then left me to atone
+for the deception by the repentance of a whole life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, can you really believe that the Highest Wisdom would have played
+so cruel a masquerade with you? Why should you be so terribly punished?
+No, <i>ma chère amie</i>, God has neither deceived nor wished to punish you.
+He showed Himself in response to your longing, or rather your longing
+made you imagine that you saw Him--and had you been content with that,
+you would have returned home happy with the vision of your God in your
+heart, like thousands who were elevated by the Passion Play. But you
+wanted <i>more</i>; you possess a sensuous religious nature, which cannot
+separate the essence from the <i>appearance</i> and, after having <i>seen</i>,
+you desired to <i>possess</i> Him in the precise form in which He appeared
+to you! Had it depended upon you, you would have robbed the world of
+its God! Fortunately, it was only Herr Freyer whom you stole, and now
+that you perceive your error you accuse God of having deceived you. You
+talk constantly of your faith in God, and yet have so poor an opinion
+of Him? What had God to do with your imagining that the poor actor in
+the Passion Play, who wore His mask, must be Himself, and therefore
+wedded him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess made no reply. This was the tone which she could never
+endure. He was everything to her--her sole confidant and counselor--but
+he could not comprehend what she had experienced during the Passion
+Play.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am once more the dry sceptic who so often angered you, am I not?&quot;
+said the Prince, whose keen observation let nothing escape. &quot;But I
+flatter myself that you will be more ready to view matters from a sober
+standpoint after having convinced yourself of the dangers of
+intercourse with 'phantoms' and demi-gods, who lure their victims into
+devious paths where they are liable morally to break their necks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess could not help smiling sorrowfully. &quot;You are
+incorrigible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, we must take things as they are. As you will not confess that
+you--pardon the frankness--have committed a folly and ruined your life
+for the sake of a fanciful whim, the caprice must be elevated to the
+rank of a 'dispensation of Providence,' and the inactive endurance of
+its consequences a meritorious martyrdom. But I do not believe that God
+is guilty either of your marriage or of your self-constituted
+martyrdom, and therefore I tell you that I do not regard your marriage,
+to use the common parlance, one of those 'made in Heaven'--in other
+words, an <i>indissoluble</i> one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess shrank as though her inmost thoughts were suddenly
+pointing treacherous fingers at her. &quot;Do you take it so lightly, Duke?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That I do not take it lightly is proved by the immense digression
+which I made to remove any moral and religious scruples. The practical
+side of the question scarcely requires discussion. But to settle the
+religious moral one first, tell me, was your marriage a civil or
+religious one?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Religious.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When and where?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At Prankenberg, after the Passion Play. It will be ten years next
+August.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How did it all happen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very simply: My father, who suddenly sought me, as usual when he was
+in debt, saw that I wanted to marry Freyer and, fearing a public
+scandal, advised me, in order to save the property--which he needed
+almost more than I--to marry <i>secretly</i>. Wherever the Tridentine
+Council ruled, the sole requisite of a valid marriage was that the two
+persons should state, in the presence of an ordained priest and two
+witnesses, that they intended to marry. As my father was never very
+reliable, and might change his opinion any day, I hastened to follow
+his advice before it occurred to him to put any obstacles in my way, as
+the pastor at Prankenberg was wholly in his power. So I set off with
+Freyer and Josepha that very night. An old coachman, Martin, whose
+fidelity I had known from childhood, lived at Prankenberg. I took him
+and Josepha for witnesses, and we surprised the old pastor while he was
+drinking his coffee.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince made a gesture of surprise. &quot;What--over his coffee?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes--before he could push back his cup, we had made our statement--and
+the deed was done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince started up; his eyes sparkled, his whole manner betrayed the
+utmost agitation. &quot;And you call that being married? And give me this
+fright?&quot; He drew a long breath, as if relieved of a burden. &quot;Madeleine,
+if you had only told me this at once!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But why? Does it change the matter?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Surely you will not persuade yourself that this farce with the old
+pastor in his dressing-gown and slippers, his morning-pipe and the
+fragrance of Mocha--was a wedding? You will not expect me as a
+Protestant, or any enlightened Catholic, to regard it in that light?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But what does the form matter? Protestantism cares nothing for the
+form--it heeds only the meaning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But the meaning was lacking--at least to you--to you it was a mere
+form which you owed to the sanctity of your lover's mask of Christus.&quot;
+He seized her hand with unwonted passion. &quot;Madeleine, for once be
+truthful to yourself and to me--am I not right?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes!&quot; she murmured almost inaudibly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then--if the <i>meaning</i> was lacking and the chosen form an
+<i>illegal</i> one--what binds you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine was silent. This question was connected with her secret,
+which he would never understand. His nature was too positive to reckon
+with anything except facts. The duke felt that she was withholding an
+answer, not because she had none, but because she did not wish to give
+the true one. But he did not allow himself to be disconcerted. &quot;Did the
+old pastor give you any written proof of this 'sacred rite'--we will
+give it the proud name of a marriage certificate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who has the document?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is unfortunate; for it gives him an apparent right to consider
+himself married and make difficulties, which complicate the case. But
+we can settle with Freyer--I have less fear of him. Your situation is
+more imperilled by this tale of a secret marriage, which Josepha, in
+good faith, brought to the ears of the Wildenaus. This is a disaster
+which requires speedy remedy. In other respects everything is precisely
+as it was when you went to Cannes. This complication changes nothing in
+my opinion. I hold the same view. If you no longer <i>love</i> Freyer, break
+with him; the way of doing so is a minor matter. I leave it to you. But
+break with him and give me your hand--then the whole spectre will melt.
+We will gladly restore the Wildenau property to the cousins, and they
+will then have no farther motive for pursuing the affair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is that true? Could you still think seriously of it--and I, good
+Heavens, must I become doubly a criminal?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But, <i>chère amie</i>, look at things objectively a little.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Even if I do look at them objectively, I don't understand how I could
+marry again without being divorced, and to apply for a divorce now
+would be acknowledging the marriage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who is to divorce you, if no one married you? According to civil law,
+you are still single, for you are not registered in accordance with
+your rank--according to religious law you are not married, at least not
+in the opinion of the great majority of Christian countries and sects,
+to whom the Tridentine Council is not authoritative! Will you insist
+upon sacrificing your existence and honor to a sentimental scruple?
+Will you confess to the Wildenaus that you are married? In that case
+you must not only restore the property, but also the interest you have
+illegally appropriated for nine years, which will swallow your little
+private property and rob you of your sole means of support. What will
+follow then? Do you mean to retire with the 'steward' from the scene
+amid the jeering laughter of society, make soup for him at his home in
+Ammergau, live by the labor of his hands, and at Christmas receive the
+gift of a calico gown?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess shuddered, as though shaken by a feverish chill.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Or will you continue to live on with Freyer as before and suffer the
+cousins to begin an inquiry against you, and afford the world the
+spectacle of seeing you wrangle with them over the property? Then you
+must produce the dogmatic and legal proof that you are not married.
+This certainly would not be difficult--but I must beg you to note
+certain possibilities. If it is decided that your marriage was
+<i>illegal</i>, then the question will be brought forward--how did <i>you
+yourself</i> regard it? And it might occur to the Wildenaus' lawyers that,
+no matter whether correctly or not, you considered yourself married and
+intentionally defrauded them of the property!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Merciful Heaven!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Or will you then escape a criminal procedure by declaring that you
+regarded your connection with Freyer as an illegal marriage?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh!&quot; the countess crimsoned with shame.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There the vindication would be more dishonoring than the
+accusation--so you must renounce <i>that</i>. You see that you have been
+betrayed into a <i>circulus vitiosus</i> from which you can no longer
+escape. Wherever you turn--you have but the choice between poverty or
+disgrace,--unless you decide to become Duchess of Metten-Barnheim and
+thus, at one bound, spring from the muddy waves which now threaten you,
+into the pure, unapproachable sphere of power and dignity to which you
+belong. My arms are always open to save you--my heart is ready to love
+and to protect you--can you still hesitate?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The tortured woman threw herself at his feet. &quot;Duke--Emil--save me--I
+am <i>yours</i>!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_28" href="#div1Ref_28">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>PARTING</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Several minutes have passed--to the duke a world of
+happiness--to the
+countess of misery. The duke bent over the beautiful trembling form to
+clasp her in his arms for the first time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have I won you at last--my long-sought love?&quot; he exclaimed,
+rapturously. &quot;Do you now perceive what your dispensations of Providence
+mean? The shrewdness and persistence of a single man who knows what he
+wants, has baffled them, and driven all the heroes of signs and wonders
+from the field! Do you now believe what I said just now: that we are
+our own Providence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That will appear in due time, do not exalt yourself and do not
+blaspheme, God might punish your arrogance!&quot; she said faintly, slipping
+gently from his embrace.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Madeleine--no betrothal kiss--after these weary years of waiting and
+hoping.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am <i>still</i> Freyer's wife,&quot; she said, evasively--&quot;not until I am
+parted from him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are right! I will not steal my bride's first kiss from another. I
+thank you for honoring my future right in his.&quot; His lips touched her
+brow with a calm, friendly caress. Then he rose: &quot;It is time to go, I
+have not a moment to lose.&quot; He glanced at the clock: &quot;Seven! I will
+make my preparations at once and set out for Prankenberg to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you wish to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;First of all to see what is recorded in the church register, and to
+ascertain what kind of a man the Catholic pastor is, that I may form
+some idea of what the Wildenaus have discovered and how much proof they
+have obtained. Then we can judge how far we must dissimulate with these
+gentlemen until your relation with Freyer can be dissolved without any
+violent outbreak or without being compelled to use any undue haste. I
+will also go to Barnheim and quietly prepare everything there for our
+marriage. The more quickly all these business matters are settled, the
+sooner our betrothal can be announced. And that I am ardently longing
+to be at last permitted to call you mine, you will--I hope,
+understand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But my relation with Freyer must first be arranged,&quot; said the
+countess, evasively. &quot;We cannot dispose of him like an ordinary
+business matter. He is a man of heart and mind--we must remember that I
+could not be happy for an hour, if I knew that he was miserable.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yet you have left him alone for weeks and months without any pangs of
+conscience,&quot; said the duke with a shade of sternness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was not <i>I</i>, but the force of circumstances. What happens now <i>I</i>
+shall do--and must bear the responsibility. Help me to provide that it
+is not too heavy.&quot; Her face wore a lofty, beautiful expression as she
+spoke, and deeply moved, he raised her hand to his lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, Madeleine! We will show him every consideration and do
+everything as forbearingly as possible. But remember that, as I just
+respected <i>his</i> rights, you must now guard <i>mine</i>, and that every hour
+in which you retain this relation to him longer than necessary--is
+treason to <i>both</i>. It cannot suit your taste to play such a part--so do
+not lose a moment in renouncing it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly--you are right.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you be strong--will you have the power to do what is
+unavoidable--and do it soon?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have always been able to do what I desired--I can do this also.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke took her hand and gazed long and earnestly into her eyes.
+&quot;Madeleine--I do not ask: do you love me? I ask only: do you believe
+that you <i>will</i> love me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The profound modesty of this question touched her heart with
+indescribable melancholy, and in overflowing gratitude for such great
+love, which gave all and asked nothing, she bowed her head: &quot;Yes--I do
+believe it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke's usual readiness of speech deserted him--he had no words to
+express the happiness of this moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What was that? Voices in the ante-room. The noise sounded like a
+dispute. Then some one knocked violently at the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come in!&quot; cried the countess, with a strange thrill of fear. The
+footman entered hurriedly with an excited face. &quot;A gentleman, he calls
+himself 'Steward Freyer,' is there, is following close at my heels--he
+would not be refused admittance.&quot; He pointed backward to where Freyer
+already appeared.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess seemed turned to stone. &quot;Request the steward to wait a
+moment!&quot; she said at last, with the imperiousness of the mistress.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man stepped back, and they saw him close the door almost by force.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not carry matters too far,&quot; said the duke; &quot;he seems to be very
+much excited--such people should not be irritated. Admit him before he
+forces the door and makes a scandal in the presence of the servant. He
+comes just at the right time--in this mood it will be easy for you to
+dismiss him. So end the matter! But be <i>calm</i>, have no scene--shall I
+remain at hand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No--I am not afraid--it would be ignoble to permit you to listen to
+him. Trust me, and leave me to my fate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At this time the voices again grew louder, then the door was violently
+thrown open. Freyer stood within the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What does this mean--am I assaulted in my own house?&quot; cried the
+countess, rebelling against this act of violence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer stood trembling from head to foot; they could hear his teeth
+chatter: &quot;I merely wished to ask whether it was the Countess Wildenau's
+desire that I should be insulted by her servant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly not!&quot; replied the countess with dignity. &quot;If my servant
+insulted you, you shall have satisfaction--only I wish you had asked it
+in a less unseemly way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke quietly took his hat and kissed the countess' hand: &quot;<i>Restez
+calme</i>!&quot; Then he passed out, saluting Freyer with that aristocratic
+courtesy which at once irritates and disarms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer stepped close to the countess, his eyes wandered restlessly, his
+whole appearance was startling: &quot;Everything in the world has its limit,
+even patience--mine is exhausted. Tell me, are you my wife--you who
+stand here in this gay masquerade of laces and pearls--are you the
+mourning mother of a dead child? Is this my wife who decks herself for
+another, shuts herself up with another, or at least gives orders not to
+be disturbed--who has her lackeys keep her wedded husband at bay
+outside with blows--and deems it unseemly if the last remnant of manly
+dignity in his soul rebels and he demands satisfaction from his wife.
+Where is the man, I ask, who would not be frenzied? Where is the woman,
+I ask, who once loved me? Is it you, who desert, betray, make me
+contemptible to myself and others? Where--where--in the wide world is
+there a man so deceived, so trampled under foot, as I am by you? Have
+you any answer to this, woman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess turned deadly pale, terror almost stifled her. For the
+first time, she beheld the Gorgon, popular fury, in his face and while
+turning to stone the thought came to her: &quot;Would you live <i>with that</i>?&quot;
+Horror stole over her--she did not know whether her feeling was fear or
+loathing, she only knew that she must fly from the &quot;turbid waves&quot; ever
+rolling nearer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There is no armor more impenetrable than the coldness of a dead
+feeling. Madeleine von Wildenau armed herself with it. &quot;Tell me, if you
+please, how you came here, what you desire, and what put you into such
+excitement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What--merciful Heaven, do you still ask? I came here to learn where
+you were now, to what address I could write, as you made no reply to my
+announcement of Josepha's death--and I wished to say that I could no
+longer endure this life! While talking with the servant at the door,
+old Martin passed and told me that you were here. I wanted to say one
+last word to you--I went upstairs, found the footman, and asked,
+entreated him to announce me, or at least to inquire when I could speak
+to you! You had a visitor and could not be disturbed, was his scornful
+answer. Then the consciousness of my just rights awoke within me, and I
+<i>commanded</i> him to announce me. You refused to receive me: 'I must
+wait'--I--must wait in the ante-room while you, as I saw through the
+half-opened door, were whispering familiarly with you former suitor!
+Then I forgot everything and approached the door--the servant tried to
+prevent me, I flung him aside, and then--he dealt me a blow in the
+face--that face which you had once likened to the countenance of your
+God--he, your servant. If I had not had sufficient self-control at the
+moment to say to myself that the lackey was only your tool--I should
+have torn him to pieces with my own hands, as I should now tear you, if
+you were not a woman and sacred to me, even in your sin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I sincerely regret what has happened and do not blame you for making
+me--at least indirectly responsible. I will dismiss the servant, of
+course--although he has the excuse that you provoked him, and that he
+did not know you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, he certainly cannot know me, when I am never permitted to
+appear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No matter, he should not venture to treat even a <i>stranger</i> so, and
+therefore must be punished with dismissal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because he should not venture to treat even a <i>stranger</i> so?&quot; Freyer
+laughed sadly, bitterly: &quot;I thank you, keep your servant--I will
+renounce this satisfaction.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know what else you desire.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You do not know? Oh, Heaven, had this happened earlier, what would
+your feelings have been! Do you remember your emotion in the Passion
+Play, when I received only the <i>semblance</i> of a blow upon the cheek?
+Did it not, as you said, strike your own heart? How should you feel
+when you saw it in reality? Oh, tears should have streamed down your
+cheeks with grief for the poor deserted husband, who the only time he
+crossed your threshold, was insulted by your lackey. If you still
+retained one spark of love for me, you would feel that a single kiss
+pressed compassionately on my cheek to efface the brand would be a
+greater satisfaction than the dismissal of a servant whom you would
+have sacrificed to any stranger. But that is over, we no longer
+understand each other!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess struggled a moment between pity and repugnance. But at the
+thought of pressing her lips to the face her servant's hand had struck,
+loathing overwhelmed her and she turned away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, turn your back upon me--for should you look me in the eyes now,
+you would be forced to lower your own and blush with shame.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I beg you to consider that I am not accustomed to such outbreaks, and
+shall be compelled to close the conversation, if your manner does not
+assume a form more in accord with the standard of my circle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I understand! You dread the element you have unchained? A peasant
+was very well, by way of variety, was he not? He loved differently,
+more ardently, more fiercely than your smooth city gentlemen. The
+strength and the impetuosity of the untutored man were not too rude
+when I bore you through the flaming forest, and caught the falling
+branches which threatened to crush you--then you did not fear me, you
+did not thrust me back within the limits of your social forms; on the
+contrary, you rejoiced that the world still contained power and
+might, and felt yourself a Titaness. Why have you suddenly become so
+weak-nerved, and cannot endure this might--because it has turned
+against you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; said the countess, with a flash of deadly hatred in her
+fathomless grey eyes: &quot;Not on that account--but because at that time I
+believed you to be different from what you really are. Then I believed
+I beheld a God, now I perceive that it was a--&quot; She paused.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go on--put no constraint on yourself--now you perceive that it was a
+<i>peasant</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You just called yourself by that name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer stood as though a thunder-bolt had struck him. He seemed to be
+struggling for breath. &quot;Yes,&quot; he said at last in a low tone, &quot;I did
+call myself by that name, but--<i>you</i> should not have done so--<i>not
+you</i>!&quot; He grasped the back of a chair to steady himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is your own fault,&quot; said the countess, coldly. &quot;But--will you not
+sit down? We have only a few words to say to each other. You have in
+this moment stripped off the mask of Christus and torn the last
+illusion from my heart. I can no longer see in the person who stood
+before me so disfigured by fury the image of the Redeemer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was not the Christ also angry, when He saw the moneychangers in the
+temple? And you, you bartered the most sacred treasures of your heart
+and mine for paltry-pelf and useless baubles--but I must not be angry!
+Scarcely a year ago, by the bedside of our sick child, you reproached
+me with being unable to cease playing the Christ--now--I have not kept
+up the part! But it does not matter, whatever I might be, I should no
+longer please you, for the <i>love</i> which rendered the peasant a God is
+lacking. Yet one thing I must add; if now, after nine years marriage
+with you, I am still rough and a peasant, the reproach does not fall on
+me alone. You might have raised, ennobled me, my soul was in your
+keeping&quot;--tears suddenly filled his eyes: &quot;Woman, what have you done
+with my soul?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He sank into a chair, his strength was exhausted. Madeleine von
+Wildenau made no reply, the reproach struck home. She had never taken
+the trouble to develop his powers, to expand his intellectual
+faculties. After his poetical charm was exhausted--she flung him aside
+like a book whose contents she had read.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You knew my history. I had told you that I grew up in the meadow with
+the horses and had gained the little I knew by my own longing. I would
+have been deeply grateful, if you had released me from the ban of
+ignorance and quenched the yearning which those who are half educated
+always feel for the treasures of culture, of which they know a little,
+just enough to show them what they lack. But whenever I sought to
+discuss such subjects with you, you impatiently made me feel my
+shortcomings, and this shamed and intimidated me. So I constantly
+deteriorated in my lonely life--grew more savage, instead of more
+cultivated. Do you know what is the hardest punishment which can be
+inflicted upon criminals? Solitary confinement. It can be imposed for a
+short time only, because they go <i>mad</i>. Since the child and Josepha
+died, I have been one of those unfortunates, and you--did not even
+write me a line, had no word for me! I felt that my mind was gradually
+becoming darkened! Woman, even if you had power over life and
+death--you must not murder my soul, you have no right to that--even the
+law slays the body only, not the soul. And where it imposes the death
+penalty, it provides that the torture shall be shortened as much as
+possible. You are more cruel than the law--for you destroy your victim
+slowly--intellectually and physically.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Terrible!&quot; murmured the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ay, it is terrible! You worldlings come and entice and sigh and kiss
+the hem of our robes, as long as the delusion of your excited
+imagination lasts, and your delusion infects us till we at last believe
+ourselves that we are gods--and then you thrust us headlong into the
+depths. Here you strew the miasma of the mania for greatness and
+vanity, yonder money and the seeds of avarice--there again you wished
+to sow your culture, tear us from our ignorance, and but half complete
+your work. Then you wonder because we become misshapen, sham,
+artificial creatures, comedians, speculators, misunderstood
+geniuses--everything in the world except true children of Ammergau!&quot; He
+wiped his forehead, as if it were bleeding from the scratches of
+thorns. &quot;I was a type of my people when, still a simple shepherd boy, I
+was brought from my herd to act the Christ, when in timid amazement,
+I suddenly felt stirring within me powers of which I had never
+dreamed--and I am so once more in my wretchedness, my mental conflicts,
+my marred life. I shall be so at last in my defeat or victory--as God
+is gracious to me. And since everything has deserted me--since I saw
+Josepha, the last thing left me of Ammergau, lying in her coffin--since
+then it has seemed as if from her grave, and that of all my happiness,
+my home, my betrayed, abandoned home, once more rose before me, and I
+felt a strange yearning for the soil to which I have a right, the earth
+where I belong. Ah, only when the outside world abandons us do we know
+what home is! Unfortunately I forgot it long enough, while I believed
+that you loved and needed me. Now that I know that you no longer care
+for me--the matter is very different! Like a true peasant, I believed
+that I had only duties, no rights, but in my loneliness I have pondered
+over many things, and so at last perceived that you, too, had duties
+and expected more from me than I can honorably endure! That I bore it
+<i>so long</i> gave you a right to despise me, for the husband who sits
+angrily in a corner and sees his wife daily betray, deny, and mock
+him--deserves no better fate. So I have come to ask what you intend and
+to tell you my resolve.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you desire?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That you will go with me to Ammergau, that you will cast aside the
+wealth, distinction, and splendor which I was not permitted to share
+with you, and in exchange accept with me my scanty earnings, my
+simplicity, my honest, plebeian name. For, poor and humble as I am, I
+am not so contemptible in the eyes of Him, who bestowed upon me the
+dignity and honor of personating His divine Son, that you need feel
+ashamed to be my wife in the true Christian meaning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess uttered a sigh of relief. &quot;You anticipate me,&quot; she
+answered, blushing. &quot;I see that you feel the untenableness of our
+relation. Your ultimatum is a proof that you will have strength to do
+what is inevitable, and I have delayed so long only from consideration
+for you. For--you know as well as I that I could never assent to your
+demand. It will be a sacred duty, so long as you live, to see that you
+want for nothing, but we must <i>part</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer turned pale. &quot;Part? We must part--for ever?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Merciful Heaven--is nothing sacred to you, not even the bond of
+marriage?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You know that I am a Rationalist, and do not believe in dogmas; as
+such I hold that every marriage can be dissolved whenever the moral
+conditions under which it was formed prove false. Unfortunately this is
+the case with us. You did not learn to accommodate yourself to the
+circumstances, and you never will--the conflict has increased till it
+is unendurable, we cannot understand each other, so our marriage-bond
+is spiritually sundered. Why should we maintain its outward semblance?
+I have lost through you nine years of my life, sacrificed to you the
+duties imposed by my rank, by renouncing marriage with a man of equal
+station. Matters have now progressed so far that I shall be ruined if
+you do not release me! Will you nevertheless cross my path and thrust
+yourself into my sphere?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh God--this too!&quot; cried Freyer in the deepest anguish. &quot;When have I
+thrust myself into your sphere? How, where, have I crossed your path?
+During the whole period of my marriage I have lived alone on the
+solitary mountain peak as your servant. Have I boasted of my position
+as your husband? I waited patiently until every few weeks, and later,
+every few months, you came to me. I disdained all the gifts of your
+lavish generosity, it was my pride to work for you in return for the
+morsel of food I ate. I asked nothing from your wealth, your position,
+took no heed, like others, of the splendor of your establishment. I
+wanted nothing from you save the immortal part. I was the poorest, the
+most insignificant of all your servants! My sole possession was your
+love, and that I was forced to conceal from every inquisitive eye, like
+a theft, in order to avoid the scorn of my fellow-citizens and all who
+could not understand the relation in which I stood to you. But this
+disgrace also I bore in silence, when a word would have vindicated
+me--bore it, that I might not drag you down from your brilliant
+position to mine--and you call that thrusting myself into your sphere?
+I will grant that I gradually became morose and embittered and by my
+ill-temper and reproaches deterred you more and more from coming, but I
+am only human and was forced to bear things beyond human endurance. The
+intention was good, though the execution might have been faulty. I
+lost your love--I lost my child--I lost my faithful companion, Josepha,
+yet I bore all in silence! I saw you revelling in the whirl of
+fashionable society, saw you admired by others and forget me, but I
+bore it--because I loved you a thousand times better than myself and
+did not wish to cause you pain. I often thought of secretly vanishing
+from your life, like a shadow which did not belong there. But the
+inviolability of the marriage-bond held me, and I wished to try once
+more, by the power of the vow you swore at the altar, to lead you back
+to your duty, for I cannot dissolve the sacrament which unites us, and
+which you voluntarily accepted with me. If it does not bind <i>you</i>--it
+still binds <i>me</i>! I am your husband, and shall remain so; if <i>you</i>
+break the bond you must answer for it to God; as for me, I shall keep
+it--unto death!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That would be a needless sacrifice, which neither church nor state
+would require. I will not release myself and leave you bound. You argue
+from a mistaken belief that we were legally married--it is time to
+explain the error, both on your account and mine. You speak of a vow
+which I made you before the altar, pray remember that we have never
+stood before one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never?&quot; muttered Freyer, and the vein on his forehead swelled with
+anger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was the breakfast-table of the Prankenberg pastor an altar?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, but wherever two human beings stand before a priest in the name of
+God, there is a viewless altar.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Those are subjective Catholic opinions which I do not understand--I do
+not consider myself married, and you need not do so either.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not married? Do you know what you are saying?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What I <i>must</i> say, to loose <i>your</i> bonds as well as <i>mine</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens, what will it avail if you loose my bonds and at the same
+time cut an artery so that I bleed to death? No, no, you cannot be so
+cruel. You cannot be in earnest. Omnipotent Father--you did not say it,
+take back the words. Lord, forgive her, she does not know what she is
+doing! Oh, take back those words--I will not believe that my wife, my
+dear wife, can be so wicked!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Moderate your expressions! I guarantee my standpoint; ask whom you
+choose, you will hear that we are not married!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer rushed up to her and seized her by the shoulders, shaking her as
+a tempest shakes a young birch-tree. &quot;Not married--do you know then
+what you are!&quot; He waited vainly for an answer, he seemed fairly crazed.
+&quot;Shall I tell you, shall I? Then for nine years you were a----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not finish!&quot; shrieked the countess, wrenching herself with a
+desperate effort from the terrible embrace and hurling him from her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I will finish, and you deserve that the whole world should hear
+and point the finger of scorn at you. I ought to shout to all the winds
+of Heaven that the Countess Wildenau, who is too proud to be called a
+poor man's wife, was not too proud to be his----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Traitor, ungrateful, dishonorable traitor! Is this your return for my
+love? Take a knife and thrust it into my heart, it would be more seemly
+than to threaten me with degradation!&quot; She drew herself up to her full
+height and raised her hand as if to take an oath: &quot;Accursed be the hour
+I raised you from the dust to my side. Curses on the false humanity
+which strove to efface the distinctions of rank, curses on the murmur
+of 'the eternal rights of man' which removes the fetters from
+brutishness, that it may set its foot upon the neck of culture! It is
+like the child which opens the door to the whining wolf to be torn to
+pieces by the brute. Yes, take yourself out of my life, gloomy shadow
+which I conjured from those seething depths in which ruin is wrought
+for us--take yourself away, you have no longer any part in me!--Your
+right is doubly, trebly forfeited, your spell is broken, your strength
+recoils from the shield of a noble spirit, under whose protection I
+stand. Dare to lay hands on me again and--you will insult the betrothed
+bride of the Duke of Barnheim and must account to him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A cry--a heavy fall--Freyer lay senseless.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess timidly stroked the pallid face--a strange memory stole
+over her--thus he lay prostrate on the ground when he was nailed to the
+cross. She could not help looking at him again and again: Oh, that all
+this should be a lie! Those features--that noble brow, on which the
+majesty of suffering was throned--the very image of the Saviour! Yet
+only an image, a mask! She looked away, she would gaze no longer, she
+would not again fall a victim to the old delusion--she would not let
+herself be softened by the wonderful, delusive face! But what was she
+to do? If she called her servants, she would be the talk of the whole
+city on the morrow. She must aid him, try to restore him to
+consciousness alone. Yet if she now roused him from the merciful
+stupor, if the grief and rage which had overwhelmed him should break
+forth again--would he not murder her? Was it strange that she remained
+so calm in the presence of this thought? A contemptuous indifference to
+death had taken possession of her. &quot;If he kills me, he has a right to
+do so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She was too lofty to shun punishment which she had deserved, though it
+were her death. So she awaited her fate.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She brought a little bottle filled with a pungent essence from her
+sleeping-room, and poured a few drops into his mouth. It was long ere
+he gave any sign of life--it seemed as though the soul was reluctant to
+awake, as if it would not return to consciousness. At last he opened
+his eyes;--they rested as coldly on the little trembling hand which was
+busied about him as if he had never clasped it, never kissed it, never
+pressed it to his throbbing heart. The storm had spent its fury--he was
+calm!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess had again been mistaken in him, as usual--his conduct was
+always unlike her anticipations. He rose as quickly as his strength
+permitted, passed his hand over his disordered hair, and looked for his
+hat: &quot;I beg your pardon for having startled you--forget this scene,
+which I might have spared you and myself, had I known what I do now. I
+deeply lament that the error which clouded your life has lasted so
+long!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; she said, and the words fell from her lips with the sharp sound
+of a diamond cutting glass: &quot;Yes, it was not <i>worth</i> it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer turned and gave her one last look--she felt it through her
+lowered lids. She had sunk on the sofa and fixed her eyes on the
+ground. A death-like chill ran through her limbs--she waited in her
+position as if paralysed. All was still for a moment, then she heard a
+light step cross the soft carpet of the room--and when she looked up,
+the door had closed behind Joseph Freyer.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_29" href="#div1Ref_29">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>IN THE DESERTED HOUSE</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The night had passed, day was shining through the closed
+curtains--but
+Countess Wildenau still sat in the same spot where Freyer had left her.
+Yes, he had gone &quot;silently, noiselessly as a shadow&quot;--perhaps vanished
+from her life, as he had said! She did not know what she felt, she
+would fain have relieved her stupor by tears, but she dared not
+weep--why should she? Everything was proceeding exactly as she wished.
+True, she had been harsh, too severe and harsh, and words had been
+uttered by both which neither could forgive the other! Yet it was
+to be expected that the bond between them would not be sundered without
+a storm--why was her heart so heavy, as if some misfortune had
+happened--greater than aught which could befall her. Tears! What would
+the duke think? It would be an injustice to him. And it was not true
+that she felt anything; she had no emotion whatever, neither for the
+vanished man nor for the duke! Honor--honor was the only thing which
+could still be saved! But--his sudden silence when she mentioned her
+betrothal to the duke--his going thus, without a farewell--without a
+word! He despised her--she was no longer worthy of him. That was the
+cause of his sudden calmness. There was a crushing grandeur and dignity
+in this calmness after the outbursts of fierce despair. The latter
+expressed a conflict, the former a victory--and <i>she</i> was vanquished,
+hers was the shame, the pangs of conscience, and a strange,
+inexplicable grief.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So she sat pondering all night long, always imagining that she had seen
+what she had not witnessed, the last look he had fixed upon her, and
+then--his noiseless walk through the room. It seemed as though time had
+stopped at that moment, and she was compelled, all through the night,
+to experience that <i>one</i> instant!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some one tapped lightly on the door, and the maid entered with a
+haggard face. &quot;I only wanted to ask,&quot; she said, in a weary, faint tone,
+&quot;whether I might go to bed a little while. I have waited all night long
+for Your Highness to ring--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, have you been waiting for me?&quot; said the countess, rising slowly
+from the sofa. &quot;I did not know it was so late. What time is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nearly six o'clock. But Your Highness looks so pale! Will you not
+permit me to put you to bed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, my good Nannie, take me to my bedroom. I cannot walk, my feet are
+numb.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You should lie down at once and try to get warm. You are as cold as
+ice!&quot; And the maid, really alarmed by the helplessness of her usually
+haughty mistress, helped the drooping figure to her room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess allowed herself to be undressed without resistance,
+sitting on the edge of the bed as if paralysed and waiting for the maid
+to lift her in. &quot;I thank you,&quot; she said in a more gentle tone than the
+woman had ever heard from her lips, as the maid voluntarily rubbed the
+soles of her feet. Her head instantly sank upon the pillows, which bore
+a large embroidered monogram, surmounted by a coronet. When her feet at
+last grew warm, she seemed to fall asleep, and the maid left the room.
+But Madeleine von Wildenau was not asleep, she was merely exhausted,
+and, while her body rested, she constantly beheld <i>one</i> image, felt
+<i>one</i> grief.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The maid had determined not to rouse her mistress, and left her
+undisturbed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last, late in the morning, the weary woman sank into an uneasy
+slumber, whence she did not wake until the sun was high in the heavens.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When she opened her eyes, she felt as if she was paralysed in every
+limb, but attributed this to the terrible impressions of the previous
+day, which would have shaken even the strongest nature.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She rang the bell for the maid and rose. She walked slowly, it is true,
+and with great effort--but she <i>did</i> walk. After she had been dressed
+and her breakfast was served she wrote:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The footman Franz is dismissed for rude treatment of the steward
+Freyer, and is not to appear in my presence again. The intendant is to
+settle the matter of wages.</p>
+
+<p class="right">&quot;<span class="sc">Countess Wildenau.</span>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Another servant now brought in a letter on a silver tray.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess' hand trembled as she took it--the envelope was one of
+those commonly used by Freyer, but the writing was not his.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is any one waiting for an answer?&quot; she asked in a hollow tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, Your Highness, it was brought by a Griess woodcutter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess opened the letter--it was from the maid-servant at the
+hunting castle, and contained only the news that the steward had left
+suddenly and the servants did not know what to do.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess sat motionless for a moment unable to utter a word.
+Everything seemed whirling around her in a dizzy circle, she saw
+nothing save dimly, as if through a veil, the servant clearing away the
+breakfast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let old Martin put the horses in the carriage,&quot; she said, hoarsely, at
+last.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How the minutes passed before she entered it--how it was possible for
+her to assume, in the presence of the maid, the quiet bearing of the
+mistress of the estate, who &quot;must see that things were going on right,&quot;
+she did not know. Now she sat with compressed lips, holding her breath
+that she might seem calm in her own eyes. What will she find on the
+height? Two graves of the past, and the empty abode of a former
+happiness. She fancied that a dark wing brushed by the carriage window,
+as if the death angel were flying by with the cup of wormwood of which
+Freyer had once spoken!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had a horror of the deserted house, the spectres of solitude and
+grief, which the vanished man might have left behind. When a house is
+dead, it must be closed by the last survivor, and this is always a
+sorrowful task. But if he himself has driven love forth, he will cross
+the deserted threshold with a lagging step, for the ghost of his own
+act will stare at him everywhere from the silent rooms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Evening had closed in, and the shadows of the mountain were already
+gathering around the house, from whose windows no loving eye greeted
+her. The carriage stopped. No one came to meet her--everything was
+lifeless and deserted. Her heart sank as she alighted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Martin--drive to the stable and see if you can find the maid servant,&quot;
+said the countess in a low tone, as if afraid of rousing some shape of
+horror. Martin did not utter a word, his good natured face was
+unusually grave as he drove off around the house in the direction of
+the stables.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess stood alone before the locked door. The evening wind swept
+through the trees and shook the boughs of the pines. A few broken
+branches swayed and nodded like crippled arms; they were the ones from
+which Freyer had taken the evergreen for the child's coffin. At that
+time they were stiff with ice, now the sap, softened by the Spring
+rain, was dripping from them. Did she understand what the boughs were
+trying to tell her? Were her cheeks wet by the rain or by tears? She
+did not know. She only felt unutterably deserted. She stood on the
+moss-grown steps, shut out from her own house, and no voice answered
+her call.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A cross towered above the tree-tops, it was on the steeple of the old
+chapel where they both lay--Josepha and the child. A bird of prey
+soared aloft from it and then vanished in the neighboring grove to
+shield its plumage from the rain. It had its nest there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now all was still again--as if dead, only the cloud rising above the
+wood poured its contents on the Spring earth. At last footsteps
+approached. It was the girl bringing the keys.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I beg the countess' pardon--I did not expect Your Highness so late, I
+was in the stable unlocking the door,&quot; she said. Then she handed her
+the bunch of keys. &quot;This one with the label is the key of the steward's
+room, he made me promise not to give it to anybody except the countess,
+if she should come again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Bring a light--it is growing dark,&quot; replied the countess, entering the
+sitting-room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I hope Your Highness will excuse it,&quot; said the girl. &quot;Everything is
+still just as it was left after the funerals of Josepha and the child.
+Herr Freyer wouldn't allow me to clear anything away.&quot; She left the
+room to get a lamp. There lay the dry pine branches, there stood the
+crucifix with the candles, which had burned low in their sockets.
+<i>This</i> for weeks had been his sole companionship. Poor, forsaken one!
+cried a voice in the countess' heart, and a shudder ran through her
+limbs as she saw on the sofa a black pall left from Josepha's funeral.
+It seemed as if it were Josepha herself lying there, as if the black
+form must rise at her entrance and approach threateningly. Horror
+seized her, and she hurried out to meet the girl who was coming with a
+light. The steward's room was one story higher, adjoining her own
+apartments. She went up the stairs with an uncertain tread, leaving the
+girl below. She needed no witness for what she expected to find there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She thrust the key into the lock with a trembling hand and opened the
+door. Sorrowful duty! Wherever she turned in this house of mourning,
+she was under the ban of her own guilt. Wherever she entered one of the
+empty rooms, it seemed as if whispering, wailing spirits separated and
+crept into the corners--to watch until the moment came when they could
+rush forth as an avenging army.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At her entrance the movement was communicated through all the boards of
+the old floor until it really seemed as if viewless feet were walking
+by her side. For a moment she stood still, holding her breath--she had
+never before noticed this effect of her own steps, she had never been
+here <i>alone</i>. Her sleeping-room was beside her husband's--the door
+stood open--he must have been in there to bid farewell before going
+away. She moved hesitatingly a few steps forward and cast a timid
+glance within. The two beds, standing side by side, looked like two
+coffins. She felt as if she beheld her own corpse lying there--the
+corpse of the former Countess Wildenau, Freyer's wife. The woman
+standing here now was a different person--and her murderess! Yet she
+grieved for her and still felt her griefs and her death-struggle. She
+hastily closed and bolted the door--as if the dead woman within might
+come out and call her to an account.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then she turned her dragging steps toward Freyer's writing-desk, for
+that is always the tabernacle where a lonely soul conceals its secrets.
+And--there lay a large envelope bearing the address: &quot;To the Countess
+Wildenau. To be opened by her own hands!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She placed the lamp on the table, and sat down to read. She no longer
+dreaded the ghosts of her own acts--<i>he</i> was with her and though he had
+raged yesterday in the madness of his anguish--he would protect her!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She opened the envelope. Two papers fell into her hands. Her marriage
+certificate and a paper in Freyer's writing. The lamp burned unsteadily
+and smoked, or were her eyes dim? Now she no longer saw the mistakes in
+writing, now she saw between the clumsy characters a noble, grieving
+soul which had gazed at her yesterday from a pair of dark eyes--for the
+last time! Clasping her hands over the sheet, she leaned her head upon
+them like a penitent Magdalene upon the gospel. It was to her also a
+gospel--of pain and love. It ran as follows:</p>
+
+<p class="continue">&quot;<span class="sc">Countess</span>:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I bid you an affectionate farewell, and enclose the marriage
+certificate, that you may have no fear of my causing you any annoyance
+by it--</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Everything else which I owe to your kindness I restore, as I can make
+no farther use of it. I am sincerely sorry that you were disappointed
+in me--I told you that I was not He whom I personated, but a poor,
+plain man, but you would not believe it, and made the experiment with
+me. It was a great misfortune for both. For you can never be happy, on
+account of the sin you wish to commit against me. I will pray God to
+release you from me--in a way which will spare you from taking this
+heavy sin upon you--but I have still one act of penance to perform
+toward my home, to which I have been faithless, that it may still
+forgive me in this life. I hear that the Passion Play cannot be
+performed in Ammergau next summer, because there is no Christus--that
+would be terrible for our poor parish! I will try whether I can help
+them out of the difficulty if they will receive me and not repulse me
+as befits the renegade.&quot; (Here the writing was blurred by tears) &quot;Only
+wait, for the welfare of your own soul, until the performances are
+over, and I have done my duty to the community. Then God will be
+merciful and open a way for us all.</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:45%">&quot;Your grateful</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:60%">&quot;<span class="sc">Joseph Freyer</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Postscript:--If it is possible, forgive me for all I did to offend you
+yesterday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There, in brief, untutored words was depicted the martyrdom of a soul,
+which had passed through the school of suffering to the utmost
+perfection! The most eloquent, polished description of his feelings
+would have had less power to touch the countess' heart than these
+simple, trite expressions--she herself could not have explained why it
+was the helplessness of the uncultured man who had trusted to her
+generosity, which spoke from these lines with an unconscious reproach,
+which pierced deeper than any complaint. And she had no answer to this
+reproach, save the tears which now flowed constantly from her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Laying her head upon the page, she wept--at last wept.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She remained long in this attitude. A sorrowful peace surrounded her,
+nothing stirred within or without, the spirits seemed reconciled by
+what they now beheld. The dead Countess Wildenau in the next room had
+risen noiselessly, she was no longer there! She was flying far--far
+beyond the mountains--seeking--seeking the lost husband, the poor,
+innocent husband, who had resigned for her sake all that constitutes
+human happiness and human dignity, anxious for one thing only, her
+deliverance from what, in his childlike view of religion, he could not
+fail to consider a heavy, unforgivable sin! She was flying through a
+broad portal in the air--it was the rainbow formed of the tears of love
+shed by sundered human hearts for thousands of years. Even so looked
+the rainbow, which had arched above her head when she stood on the peak
+with the royal son of the mountains, high above the embers of the
+forest, through which he had borne her, ruling the flames. They had
+spared him--but <i>she</i> had had no pity--they had crouched at his feet
+like fiery lions before their tamer, but the woman for whom he had
+fought trampled on him. Yet above them arched the rainbow, the symbol
+of peace and reconciliation, and under <i>this</i> she had made the oath
+which she now intended to break. The dead Countess Wildenau, however,
+saw the gleaming bow again, and was soaring through it to her husband,
+for she had no further knowledge of earthly things, she knew only the
+old, long denied, all-conquering love!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Suddenly the clock on the writing-table began to strike, the penitent
+dreamer started. It was striking nine. The clock was still going--he
+had wound it. It was a gift from her. He had left all her gifts, he
+wrote. That would be terrible. Surely he had not gone without any
+means? The key of the writing-table was in the lock. She opened the
+drawer. There lay all his papers, books, the rest of the housekeeping
+money, and accounts, all in the most conscientious order, and beside
+them--oh, that she must see it--a little purse containing his savings
+and a savings-bank book, which she herself had once jestingly pressed
+upon him. The little book was wrapped in paper, on which was written:
+&quot;To keep the graves of my dear ones in Countess Wildenau's chapel.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, you great, noble heart, which I never understood!&quot; sobbed the
+guilty woman, restoring the little volume to its place.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But she could not rest, she must search on and on, she must know
+whether he had left her as a beggar? Against the wall beside the
+writing-table, stood a costly old armoire, richly ornamented, which had
+seen many generations of the Prankenbergs come and pass away. Madeleine
+von Wildenau turned the lock with an effort--there hung all his
+clothing, just as he had received it from her or purchased it with his
+own wages; nothing was missing save the poor little coat, hat and cane,
+with which he had left Ammergau with the owner of a fortune numbering
+millions. He had wandered forth again as poor as he had come.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Sinking on her knees, she buried her face, overwhelmed with grief and
+shame, in her clasped hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer, Freyer, I did not want this--not this!&quot; Now the long repressed
+grief which she had inflicted upon herself burst forth unrestrained.
+Here she could shriek it out; here no one heard her. &quot;Oh, that you
+should leave me thus--unreconciled, without a farewell, with an aching
+heart--not even protected from want! And I let you go without one kind
+word--I did not even return your last glance. Was it possible that I
+could do it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old Prankenberg lion on the coat of arms on the armoire had
+doubtless seen many mourners scan the garments whose owners rested
+under the sod--but no one of all the women of that failing race had
+wept so bitterly over the contents of the armoire--as this last of her
+name.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The candle had burned low in the socket, a star glinting through the
+torn clouds shone through the uncurtained windows. Beyond the forest
+the first flashes of spring lightning darted to and fro.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau rose and stood for a while in the middle of the
+room, pondering. What did she want here? She had nothing more to find
+in the empty house. The dead Countess Wildenau was once more sleeping
+in the adjoining room, and the living one no longer belonged to
+herself. Was it, could it be true, that she had thrust out the peaceful
+inmate of this house? Thrust him forever from the modest home she had
+established for him? &quot;Husband, father of my child, where are you?&quot; No
+answer! He was no longer hers! He had risen from the humiliation she
+inflicted upon him, he had stripped off the robe of servitude, and gone
+forth, scorning her and all else--a poor but free man!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She must return to the slavery of her own guilt and of prosaic
+existence, while he went farther and farther away, like a vanishing
+star. She felt that her strength was failing, she must go, or she would
+sink dying in this place of woe--alone without aid or care.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She folded the marriage certificate and Freyer's letter together, and
+without another glance around the room--the ghost of her awakened
+conscience was stirring again, she took the dying candle and hurried
+down. The steps again creaked behind her, as though some one was
+following her downstairs. She had ordered the carriage at nine, it must
+have been waiting a long time. Her foot faltered at the door of the
+sitting-room, but she passed on--it was impossible for her to enter it
+again--she called--but the maid-servant had gone to her work in the
+stables--nothing save her own trembling voice echoed back through the
+passages. She went out. The carriage was standing at the side of the
+house. The rain had ceased, the forest was slumbering and all the
+creatures which animated it by day with it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess locked the door. &quot;Now interweave your boughs and shut it
+in!&quot; she said to the briers and pines which stood closely around it.
+&quot;Spread out your branches and compass it with an impenetrable hedge
+that no one may find it. The Sleeping Beauty who slumbers here--nothing
+must ever rouse!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_30" href="#div1Ref_30">CHAPTER XXX.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE &quot;WIESHERRLE.&quot;</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">High above the rushing Wildbach, where the stream bursts
+through the
+crumbling rocks and in its fierce rush sends heavy stones grinding over
+one another--a man lay on the damp cliff which trembled under the shock
+of the falling masses of water. The rough precipices, dripping with
+spray, pressed close about him, shutting him into the cool, moss-grown
+ravine, through which no patch of blue sky was visible, no sunbeam
+stole.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Here the wanderer, deceived in everything, lay resting on his way home.
+With his head propped on his hand, he gazed steadfastly down into the
+swirl of the foaming, misty, ceaseless rush of the falling water! On
+the rock before him lay a small memorandum book, in which he was slowly
+writing sorrowful words, just as they welled from his soul--slowly and
+sluggishly, as the resin oozes from the gashed trees. Wherever a human
+heart receives a deep, fatal wound, the poetry latent in the blood of
+the people streams from the hurt. All our sorrowful old folk-songs are
+such drops of the heart's blood of the people. The son of a race of
+mountaineers who sung their griefs and joys was composing his own
+mournful wayfaring ballad for not one of those which he knew and
+cherished in his memory expressed the unutterable grief he experienced.
+He did not know how he wrote it--he was ignorant of rhyme and metre.
+When he finished, that is, when he had said all he felt, it seemed as
+though the song had flown to him, as the seed of some plant is blown
+upon a barren cliff, takes root, and grows there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But now, after he had created the form of the verses, he first realized
+the full extent of his misery!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Hiding the little book in his pocket, he rose to follow the toilsome
+path he was seeking high among the mountains where there were only a
+few scattered homesteads, and he met no human being.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">While Countess Wildenau in the deserted hunting-castle was weeping over
+the cast-off garments with which he had flung aside the form of a
+servant, the free man was striding over the heights, fanned by the
+night-breeze, lashed by the rain in his thin coat--free--but also free
+to be exposed to grief, to the elements--to hunger! Free--but so free
+that he had not even a roof beneath which to shelter his head within
+four protecting walls.</p>
+
+<div class="poem2">
+<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8px">
+&quot;Both love and faith have fled for aye,<br>
+Like chaff by wild winds swept away--<br>
+Naught, naught is left me here below<br>
+Save keen remorse and endless woe.</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8px">&quot;No home have I on the wide earth--<br>
+A ragged beggar fare I forth,<br>
+In midnight gloom, by tempests met,<br>
+Broken my staff, my star has set.</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8px">&quot;With raiment tattered by the sleet,<br>
+My brain scorched by the sun's fierce heat,<br>
+My heart torn by a human hand,<br>
+A shadow--I glide through the land.</p>
+
+<p class="t0">&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8px">&quot;Homeward I turn, white is my hair,<br>
+Of love and faith my life is bare--<br>
+Whoe'er beholds me makes the sign<br>
+Of the cross--God save a fate like mine.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="normal">So the melancholy melody echoed through the darkness of the night, from
+peak to peak along the road from the Griess to Ammergau. And wherever
+it sounded, the birds flew startled from the trees deeper into the
+forest, the deer fled into the thickets and listened, the child in the
+cradle started and wept in its sleep. The dogs in the lonely courtyards
+barked loudly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That was no human voice, it was a shot deer or an owl&quot;--the peasants
+said to their trembling wives, listening for a time to the ghostly,
+wailing notes dying faintly away till all was still once more--and the
+spectre had passed. But when morning dawned and the time came when the
+matin bells drove all evil spirits away the song, too, ceased, and only
+its prophecy came true. Whoever recognized in the emaciated man, with
+hollow eyes and cheeks, the Christus-Freyer of Ammergau, doubtless made
+the sign of the cross in terror, exclaiming: &quot;Heaven preserve us!&quot; But
+the lighter it grew, the farther he plunged into the forest. He was
+ashamed to be seen! His gait grew more and more feeble, his garments
+more shabby by his long walk in the rain and wind.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He still had a few pennies in his pocket--the exact sum he possessed
+when he left Ammergau. He was keeping them for a night's lodgings,
+which he must take once during the twenty-four hours. He could have
+reached Ammergau easily by noon--but he did not want to enter it in
+broad day as a ragged beggar. So he rested by day and walked at night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At a venerable old inn, the &quot;Shield,&quot; on the road from Steingaden to
+Ammergau, he asked one of the servants if he might lie a few hours on
+the straw to rest. The latter hesitated before granting permission--the
+man looked so doubtful. At last he said: &quot;Well, I won't refuse you, but
+see that you carry nothing off when you go away from here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer made no reply. The wrath which had made him hurl the lackey from
+the countess' door, no longer surged within him--now it was his home
+which was punishing him, speaking to him in her rude accents--let her
+say what she would, he accepted it as a son receives a reproof from a
+mother. He hung his drenched coat to dry in the sun, which now shone
+warmly again, then slipped into the barn and lay down on the hay. A
+refreshing slumber embraced him, poverty and humility took the
+sorrowing soul into their maternal arms, as a poor man picks up the
+withered blossom the rich one has carelessly flung aside, and carrying
+it home makes it bloom again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Rest, weary soul! You no longer need to stretch and distort the noble
+proportions of your existence to fit them to relations to which they
+were not born. You need be nothing more than you are, a child of the
+people, suckled by the sacred breast of nature and can always return
+there without being ashamed of it. Poverty and lowliness extend their
+protecting mantle over you and hide you from the looks of scorn and
+contempt which rend your heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A peaceful expression rested upon the sleeper's face, but his breathing
+was deep and labored as if some powerful feeling was stirring his soul
+under the quiet repose of slumber and from beneath his closed lids
+stole a tear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">During several hours the exhausted body lay between sleeping and
+waking, unconscious grief and comfort.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Opposite, &quot;on the Wies&quot; fifteen minutes walk from the &quot;Shield,&quot; a bell
+rang in the church where the pilgrims went. There an ancient Christ
+&quot;our Lord of the Wies,&quot; called simply &quot;the Wiesherrle,&quot; carved from
+mouldering, painted wood, was hung from the cross by chains which
+rattled when the image was laughed at incredulously, and with real
+hair, which constantly grew again when an impious hand cut it. At times
+of special visitation it could sweat blood, and hundreds journeyed to
+the &quot;Wies,&quot; trustfully seeking the wonder-working &quot;Wiesherrle.&quot; It was
+a terrible image of suffering, and the first sight of the scourged
+body and visage contorted by pain caused an involuntary thrill of
+horror--increased by the black beard and long hair, such as often grows
+in the graves of the dead. The face stared fixedly at the beholder with
+its glassy eyes, as if to say: &quot;Do you believe in me?&quot; The emaciated
+body was so lifelike, that it might have been an embalmed corpse placed
+erect. But the horror vanished when one gazed for a while, for an
+expression of patience rested on the uncanny face, the lashes of the
+fixed eyes began to quiver, the image became instinct with life, the
+chains swayed slightly, and the drops of blood again grew liquid. Why
+should they not? The heart, which loves forever can also, to the eye of
+faith, bleed forever. Hundreds of wax limbs and silver hearts,
+consecrated bones and other anomalies bore witness to past calamities
+where the Wiesherrle had lent its aid. But he could also be angry, as
+the rattling of his chains showed, and this gave him a somewhat
+spectral, demoniac aspect.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Under the protection of this strange image of Christ, whose power
+extended over the whole mountain plateau, the living image of Christ
+lay unconscious. Then the vesper-bells, ringing from the church, roused
+him. He hastily started up and, in doing so, struck against the block
+where the wood was split. A chain flung upon it fell. Freyer raised and
+held it a moment before replacing it on the block, thinking of the
+scourging in the Passion Play.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Heavens, the Wiesherrle!&quot; shrieked a terrified voice, and the door
+leading into the barn, which had been softly opened, was hurriedly
+shut.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Father, father, come quick--the Wiesherrle is in the barn!&quot;--screamed
+some one in deadly fright.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Silly girl,&quot; Freyer heard a man say. &quot;Are you crazy? What are you
+talking about?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Really, Father, on my soul; just go there. The Wiesherrle is standing
+in the middle of the hay. I saw him. By our Lord and the Holy Cross.
+Amen!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer heard the girl sink heavily on the bench by the stove. The
+father answered angrily: &quot;Silly thing, silly thing!&quot; and went to the
+door in his hob-nailed shoes. &quot;Is any one in here?&quot; he asked. But as
+Freyer approached, the peasant himself almost started back in terror:
+&quot;Good Lord, who are you? Why do you startle folks so? Can't you speak?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I asked the man if I might rest there, and then I fell asleep.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't see why you should be so lazy, turning night into day.
+Tramp on, and sleep off your drunkenness somewhere else! I want no
+miracles--and no Wiesherrle in my house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll pay for everything,&quot; said Freyer humbly, almost beseechingly,
+holding out his little stock of ready money, for he was overpowered
+with hunger and thirst.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do I care for your pennies!&quot; growled the tavern keeper angrily,
+closing the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There stood the hapless man, in whom the girl's soul had recognized
+with awe the martyred Christ, but whom the rude peasant turned from his
+door as a vagrant--hungry and thirsty, worn almost unto death, and with
+a walk of five hours before him. He took his hat and his staff, hung
+his dry coat over his shoulder, and left the barn.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As he went out he heard the last notes of the vesper-bell, and felt a
+yearning to go to Him for whom he had been mistaken, it seemed as if He
+were calling in the echoing bells: &quot;Come to me, I have comfort for
+you.&quot; He struck into the forest path that led to the Wiesherrle. The
+white walls of the church soon appeared and he stepped within, where
+the showy, antiquated style of the last century mingled with the crude
+notions of the mountaineers for and by whom it was built.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Skulls, skeletons of saints, chubby-cheeked cupids, cruel martyrdoms,
+and Arcadian shepherdesses, nude penitents and fiends dragging them
+down into the depths, lambs of heaven and dogs of hell were all in
+motley confusion! Above the chaotic medley arched on fantastic columns
+the huge dome with a gate of heaven painted in perspective, which,
+according to the beholder's standpoint rose or sank, was foreshortened
+or the opposite.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A wreath of lucernes beautifully ornamented, through which the blue sky
+peeped and swallows building their nests flew in and out, formed as it
+were the jewel in the architecture of the cornice. Even the eye of God
+was not lacking, a tarnished bit of mirror inserted above the pulpit in
+the centre of golden rays, and intended to flash when the sun shone on
+it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And there in a glass shrine directly beneath all the tinsel rubbish, on
+the gilded carving of the high altar, the poor, plain little Wiesherrle
+hung in chains. The two, the wooden image of God, and the one of flesh
+and blood, confronted each other--the Christ of the Ammergau Play
+greeted the Christ of the Wies. It is true, they did resemble each
+other, like suffering and pain. Freyer knelt long before the Wiesherrle
+and what they confided to each other was heard only by the God in whose
+service and by whose power they wrought miracles--each in his own way.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are happy,&quot; said the Wiesherrle. &quot;Happier than I! Human hands
+created and faith animated me; where that is lacking, I am a mere
+dead wooden puppet, only fit to be flung into the fire. But you were
+created by God, you live and breathe, can move and act--and highest of
+all--<i>suffer</i> like Him whom we represent. I envy you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes!&quot; cried Freyer; &quot;You are right; <i>to suffer</i> like Christ is highest
+of all! My God, I thank Thee that I suffer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the comfort the Wiesherrle had for his sorely tried brother.
+It was a simple thought, but it gave him strength to bear everything.
+It is always believed that a great grief requires a great consolation.
+This is not true, the poorer the man is, the more value the smallest
+gift has for him, and the more wretched he is--the smallest comfort! To
+the husbandman whose crops have been destroyed by hail, it would be no
+comfort to receive the gift of a blossom, which would bring rapture to
+the sultry attic chamber of a sick man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In a great misfortune we often ask: &quot;What gave the person strength to
+endure it?&quot; It was nothing save these trivial comforts which only the
+unhappy know. The soul lamenting the loss of a loved one while many
+others are left is not comforted when the lifeless figure of a martyr
+preaches patience--but to the desolate one, who no longer has aught
+which speaks to him, the lifeless wooden image becomes a friend and its
+mute language a consolation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Beside the altar stood an alms-box. The gifts for which it was intended
+were meant for repairs on the church and the preservation of the
+Wiesherrle, who sometimes needed a new cloth about his loins. Freyer
+flung into it the few coins which the innkeeper had disdained, because
+he looked like the Wiesherrle, now they should go to him. He felt as if
+he should need no more money all his life, as if the comfort he had
+here received raised him far above earthly need and care.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Twilight was gathering, the sun had sunk behind the blue peaks of the
+Pfrontner mountains, and now the hour struck--the sacred hour of the
+return home.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Already he felt with joy the throbbing of the pulses of his home, a
+mysterious connection between this place and distant Ammergau. And he
+was right: Childish as was the representation of the divine ideal, it
+was, nevertheless, the rippling of one of those hidden springs of faith
+which blend in the Passion Play, forming the great stream of belief
+which is to supply a thirsting world. As on a barren height, amid
+tangled thickets, we often greet with delight the low murmur of a
+hidden brook which in the valley below becomes the mighty artery of our
+native soil, so the returning wanderer hurried on longingly toward the
+mysterious spring which led him to the mother's heart. But his knees
+trembled, human nature asserted its rights. He must eat or he would
+fall fainting. But where could food be had? The last pennies were in
+the alms-box--he could not have taken them out again, even had he
+wished it. There was no way save to ask some one--for bread. He dragged
+himself wearily to the parsonage--he would try there, the priest would
+be less startled by the &quot;Wiesherrle&quot; than the peasant. Thrice he
+attempted to pull the bell, but very gently. He fancied the whole world
+could hear that he was ringing--to beg. Yet, if it did not sound, no
+one would open the door. At last, with as much effort as though he was
+pulling the bell-rope in the church steeple, he rang. The bell echoed
+shrilly. The pastor's old cook appeared.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer raised his hat. &quot;Might I ask you for a piece of bread?&quot; he
+murmured softly, and the tall figure seemed to droop lower with every
+word.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The cook, who was never allowed to turn a beggar from the door, eyed
+him a moment with mingled pity and anxiety. &quot;Directly,&quot; she answered,
+and went in search of something, but prudently closed the door, leaving
+him outside as we do with suspicious individuals. Freyer waited, hat in
+hand. The evening breeze swept chill across the lofty mountain plateau
+and blew his hair around his uncovered head. At last the cook came,
+bringing him some soup and a bit of bread. Freyer thanked her, and ate
+it! When he had finished he gave the little dish back to the woman--but
+his hand trembled so that he almost let it fall and his brow was damp.
+Then he thanked her again, but without raising his eyes, and quietly
+pursued his way.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_31" href="#div1Ref_31">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE RETURN HOME</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The &quot;Wies&quot; towered like an island from amid a grey sea of
+clouds. All
+the mountains of Trauchgau and Pfront, Allgau and Tyrol, which surround
+it like distant shores and cliffs, had vanished in the mist. The
+windows in the comfortable tavern were lighted and a fire was blazing
+on the hearth. One little lamp after another shone from the quiet
+farm-houses.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lonely church now lay silent! Silent, too, was the Wiesherrle in
+his glass shrine, while the wayfarer pressed steadily down through the
+mist toward home and the cross! Freyer moved on more and more swiftly
+across the hill-sides and through the woods till he reached the path
+leading down the mountain to the &quot;Halb-Ammer,&quot; which flowed at its
+base. Gradually he emerged from the strata of mist, and now a faint ray
+of moonlight fell upon his path.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Hour after hour he pursued his way. One after another the lights in the
+houses were extinguished. The world sank into slumber, and the villages
+were wrapped in silence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the churches only the ever-burning lamps still blazed, and he made
+them his resting-places.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The clock in the church steeple of Altenau struck twelve as he passed
+through. A belated tippler approached him with the reeling step of a
+drunkard, but started back when he saw his face, staring after him with
+dull bewildered eyes as if he beheld some spectre of the night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;An image of horror I glide through the land!&quot; Freyer murmured softly.
+To-night he did not sing his song. This evening his pain was soothed,
+his soul was preparing for another pæan--on the cross!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now the little church of Kappel appeared before him on its green hill,
+like a pious sign-post pointing the way to Ammergau. But patches of
+snow still lingered amid the pale green of the Spring foliage, for it
+is late ere the Winter is conquered by the milder season and the keen
+wind swept down the broad highway, making the wayfarer's teeth chatter
+with cold. He felt that his vital warmth was nearly exhausted, he had
+walked two days with no hot food. For the soup at the parsonage that
+day was merely lukewarm--he stood still a moment, surely he had dreamed
+that! He could not have begged for bread? Yes, it was even so. A tremor
+shook his limbs: Have you fallen so low? He tried to button his thin
+coat--his fingers were stiff with cold. Ten years ago when he left
+Ammergau, it was midsummer--now winter still reigned on the heights.
+&quot;Only let me not perish on the highway,&quot; he prayed, &quot;only let me reach
+home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was now bright cold moonlight, all the outlines of the mountains
+stood forth distinctly, the familiar contours of the Ammergau peaks
+became more and more visible.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now he stood on the Ammer bridge where what might be termed the suburb
+of Ammergau, the hamlet of Lower Ammergau, begins. The moon-lit river
+led the eye in a straight line to the centre of the Ammer valley--there
+lay the sacred mountains of his home--the vast side scenes of the most
+gigantic stage in the world, the Kofel with its cross, and the other
+peaks. Opposite on the left the quiet chapel of St. Gregory amid
+boundless meadows, beside the fall of the Leine, the Ammer's wilder
+sister. There he had watched his horses when a boy, down near the
+chapel where the blue gentians had garlanded his head when he flung
+himself on the grass, intoxicated by his own exuberant youth and
+abundance of life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He extended his arms as if he would fain embrace the whole infinite
+scene: &quot;Home, home, your lost son is returning--receive him. Do not
+fall, ye mountains, and bury the beloved valley ere I reach it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One last effort, one short hour's walk. Hold out, wearied one, this one
+hour more!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The highway from Lower Ammergau stretched endlessly toward the goal. On
+the right was the forest, on the left the fields where grew thousands
+of meadow blossoms, the Eden of his childhood where a blue lake once
+lured him, so blue that he imagined it was reflecting a patch of the
+sky, but when he reached it, instead of water, he beheld a field of
+forget-me-nots!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, memories of childhood--reconciling angel of the tortured soul!
+There stands the cross on the boundary with the thorny bush whence
+Christ's crown was cut.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How will you fare, will the community receive you, admit you to the
+blissful union of home powers, if you sacrifice your heart's blood for
+it?&quot; Freyer asked himself, and it seemed as if some cloud, some dark
+foreboding came between him and his home. &quot;Well for him who no longer
+expects his reward from this world. What are men? They are all
+variable, variable and weak! Thou alone art the same. Thou who dost
+create the miracle from our midst--and thou, sacred soil of our
+ancestors, ye mountains from whose peaks blows the strengthening breath
+which animates our sublime work--it is not <i>human beings</i>, but ye who
+are home!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now the goal was gained--he was there! Before him in the moonlight lay
+the Passion Theatre--the consecrated space where once for hours he was
+permitted to feel himself a God.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The poor, cast off man, deceived in all things, flung himself down,
+kissed the earth, and laid a handful of it on his head, as though it
+were the hand of a mother--while from his soul gushed like a song sung
+by his own weeping guardian angel,</p>
+
+<div class="poem2">
+<p class="t0" style="text-indent:-8px">&quot;Thy soil I kiss, beloved home,</p>
+<p class="t1">Which erst my fathers' feet have trod,</p>
+<p class="t0">Where the good seed devoutly sown</p>
+<p class="t1">Sprang forth at the command of God!</p>
+<p class="t0">Thy lap fain would I rest upon,</p>
+<p class="t1">Though faithlessly from thee I fled</p>
+<p class="t0">Still thy chains draw thy wand'ring son</p>
+<p class="t1">Oh! mother, back where'er his feet may tread.</p>
+<p class="t0">And though no ray of light, no star,</p>
+<p class="t1">Illumes the future--and its gloom,</p>
+<p class="t0">Thou wilt not grudge, after life's war,</p>
+<p class="t1">A clod of earth upon my tomb.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="normal">He rested his head thus a long time on the cold earth, but he no longer
+felt it. It seemed as though the soul had consumed the last power of
+the exhausted body--and bursting its fetters blazed forth like an
+aureole. &quot;Hosanna, hosanna!&quot; rang through the air, and the earth
+trembled under the tramp of thousands. On they came in a long
+procession bearing palm-branches, the shades of the fathers--the old
+actors in the Passion Play from its commencement, and all who had lived
+and died for the cross since the time of Christ!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hosanna, hosanna to him who died on the cross. Many are called, but
+few chosen. But you belong to us!&quot; sang the chorus of martyrs till the
+notes rang through earth and Heaven. &quot;Hosanna, hosanna to him who
+suffers and bleeds for the sins of the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer raised his head. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and white
+mists were gathering over the fields.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He rose, shivering with cold. His thin coat was damp with the night
+frost which had melted on his uncovered breast, and his feet were sore,
+for his shoes were worn out by the long walk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He still fancied he could hear, far away in the infinite distance, the
+chorus of the Hosanna to the Crucified! And raising his arms to heaven,
+he cried: &quot;Oh, my Redeemer and Master, so long as Thou dost need me to
+show the world Thy face--let me live--then take pity on me and let me
+die on the cross! Die for the sins of one, as Thou didst die for the
+sins of the world.&quot; He opened the door leading to the stage. There in
+the dim moonlight lay the old cross. Sobbing aloud, he embraced it,
+pressing to his breast the hard wood which had supported him and now,
+as of yore, was surrounded by the mysterious powers, which so strongly
+attracted him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, had I been but faithful to thee,&quot; he lamented, &quot;all the blessings
+of this world--even were it the greatest happiness, would not outweigh
+thee. Now I am thine--praise thyself with me and bear me upward, high
+above all earthly woe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The clock in the church steeple struck three. He must still live and
+suffer, for he knew that no one could play the Christus as he did,
+because no one bore the Redeemer's image in his heart like him.
+But--could he go farther? His strength had failed, he felt it with
+burdened breast. He took up his hat and staff, and tottered out. Where
+should he go? To Ludwig Gross, the only person to whom he was not
+ashamed to show himself in his wretchedness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now for the first time he realized that he could scarcely move farther.
+Yet it must be done, he could not lie there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Step by step he dragged himself in his torn shoes along the rough
+village street. When half way down he heard music and singing
+alternating with cries and laughter, echoing from the tavern. It was a
+wedding, and they were preparing to escort the bride and groom home--he
+learned this from the talk of some of the lads who came out. Was he
+really in Ammergau? His soul was yet thrilling with emotion at the
+sight of the home for which he had so long yearned and now--this
+contrast! Yet it was natural, they could not all devote themselves to
+their task with the same fervor. Yet it doubly wounded the man who bore
+in his heart such a solemn earnestness of conviction. He glided
+noiselessly along in the shadow of the houses, that no one should see
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Did not the carousers notice that their Christ was passing in beggar's
+garb? Did they not feel the gaze bent on them from the shadow through
+the lighted window, silently asking: &quot;Are these the descendants of
+those ancestors whose glorified spirits had just greeted the returning
+son of Ammergau?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The unhappy wanderer's step passed by unheard, and now Freyer turned
+into the side street, where his friend's house stood--the luckless
+house where his doom began.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was not quite half-past three. The confused noise did not reach the
+quiet street. The house, shaded by its broad, projecting roof, lay as
+if wrapped in slumber. Except during the passion Ludwig always slept in
+the room on the ground floor, formerly occupied by the countess. Freyer
+tapped lightly on the shutter, but his heart was beating so violently
+that he could scarcely hear whether any one was moving within.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">If his friend should not be there, had gone away on a journey, or
+moved--what should he do then? He had had no communication with him,
+and only heard once through Josepha that old Andreas Gross was dead. He
+knocked again. Ludwig was the only person whom he could trust--if he
+had lost him, all would be over.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But no--there was a movement within--the well-known voice asked
+sleepily: &quot;Who is there?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ludwig, open the window--it is I--Freyer!&quot; he called under his breath.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The shutters were flung back. &quot;Freyer--is it possible? Wait, Joseph,
+wait, I'll admit you.&quot; He heard his friend hurriedly dressing--two
+minutes after the door opened. Not a word was exchanged between the
+two men. Ludwig grasped Freyer's hand and drew him into the house.
+&quot;Freyer--you--am I dreaming? You here--what brings you? I'll have a
+light directly.&quot; His hand trembled with excitement as he lighted a
+candle. Freyer stood timidly at the door. The room grew bright, the
+rays streamed full on Freyer. Ludwig started back in horror. &quot;Merciful
+Heaven, how you look!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The friends long stood face to face, unable to utter a word, Freyer
+still holding his hat in his hand. Ludwig's keen eye glided over the
+emaciated form, the shabby coat, the torn shoes. &quot;Freyer, Freyer, what
+has befallen you? My poor friend, do you return to me <i>thus</i>?&quot; With
+unutterable grief he clasped the unfortunate man in his arms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer could scarcely speak, his tongue refused to obey his will. &quot;If I
+could rest a little while,&quot; he faltered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, come, come and lie down on my bed--I have slept as much as I
+wish. I shall not lie down again,&quot; replied Ludwig, trembling with
+mingled pity and alarm, as he drew off his friend's miserable rags as
+quickly as possible. Then leading him to his own bed, he gently pressed
+him down upon it. He would not weary the exhausted man with questions,
+he saw that Freyer was no longer master of himself. His condition told
+his friend enough.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You--are--kind!&quot; stammered Freyer. &quot;Oh, I have learned something in
+the outside world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What--what have you learned?&quot; asked Ludwig.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A strange smile flitted over Freyer's face: &quot;<i>To beg.</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His friend shuddered. &quot;Don't talk any more now--you need rest!&quot; he said
+in a low, soothing tone, wrapping the chilled body in warm coverlets.
+But a flash of noble indignation sparkled in his eyes, and his pale
+lips could not restrain the words: &quot;I will ask no questions--but
+whoever sent you home to us must answer for it to God.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The other did not hear, or if he did his thoughts were too confused to
+understand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer! Only tell me what I can do to strengthen you. I'll make a
+fire, and give you anything to eat that you would like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Whatever--you--have!&quot; Freyer gasped with much difficulty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May God help us--he is starving.&quot; Ludwig could scarcely control his
+tears. &quot;Keep quiet--I'll come presently and bring you something!&quot; he
+said, hurrying out to get all the modest larder contained. He would not
+wake his sisters--this was no theme for feminine gossip. He soon
+prepared with his own hands a simple bread porridge into which he broke
+a couple of eggs, he had nothing else--but at least it was warm food.
+When he took it to his friend Freyer had grown so weak that he could
+scarcely hold the spoon, but the nourishment evidently did him good.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now sleep!&quot; said Ludwig. &quot;Day is dawning. I'll go down to the village
+and see if I can get you some boots and another coat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A mute look of gratitude from Freyer rewarded the faithful care, then
+his eyes closed, and his friend gazed at him with deep melancholy.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_32" href="#div1Ref_32">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>TO THE VILLAGE</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster's house, with its elaborate fresco, &quot;Christ
+before
+Pilate,&quot; still stood without any signs of life in the grey dawn. The
+burgomaster was asleep. He had been ill very frequently. It seemed
+as if the attack brought on by Freyer's flight had given him his
+death-blow, he had never rallied from it. And as his body could not
+recuperate, his mind could never regain its tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Ludwig Gross' violent ring disturbed the morning silence of the
+house the burgomaster's wife opened the door with a face by no means
+expressive of pleasure. &quot;My husband is still asleep!&quot; she said to the
+drawing-master.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I cannot help it, you must wake him. I've important business!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The anxious wife still demurred, but the burgomaster appeared at the
+top of the staircase. &quot;What is it? I am always to be seen if there is
+anything urgent. Good morning; go into the sitting-room. I'll come
+directly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross entered the low-ceiled but cheerful apartment, where
+flowers bloomed in every window. Against the wall was the ancient glass
+cupboard, the show piece of furniture in every well-to-do Ammergau
+household, where were treasured the wife's bridal wreath and the
+husband's goblet, the wedding gifts--cups with gilt inscriptions: &quot;In
+perpetual remembrance,&quot; which belonged to the wife and prizes won in
+shooting matches, or gifts from visitors to the Passion Play, the
+property of the husband. In the ivy-grown niche in the corner of the
+room was an ancient crucifix--below it a wooden bench with a table, on
+which lay writing materials. On the pier-table between the widows were
+a couple of images of saints, and a pile of play-bills of the
+rehearsals which the burgomaster was arranging. Against the opposite
+wall stood a four-legged piece of furniture covered with black leather,
+called &quot;the sofa,&quot; and close by the huge tiled stove, behind which
+the burgomaster's wife had set the milk &quot;to thicken.&quot; Near by was a
+wall-cupboard with a small writing-desk, and lastly a beautifully
+polished winding staircase which led through a hole in the ceiling
+directly into the sleeping-room, and was the seat of the family cat.
+This was the home of a great intellect, which reached far beyond these
+narrow bounds and to which the great epochs of the Passion Play were
+the only sphere in which it could really live, where it had a wide
+field for its talents and ambition--where it could find compensation
+for the ten years prose of petty, narrow circumstances. But the
+intervals of ten years were too long, and the elderly man was gradually
+losing the elasticity and enthusiasm which could bear him beyond the
+deprivations of a decade. He tried all sorts of ventures in order at
+least to escape the petty troubles of poverty, but they were
+unsuccessful and thereby he only became burdened the more. Thus in the
+strife with realism, constantly holding aloft the standard of the
+ideal, involved in inward and outward contradictions, the hapless man
+was wearing himself out--like most of the natives of Ammergau.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, what is it?&quot; he now asked, entering the room. &quot;Sit down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't be vexed, but you know my husband must have his coffee, or he
+will be ill.&quot; The burgomaster's wife brought in the breakfast and set
+it on the table before him. &quot;Don't let it get cold,&quot; she said
+warningly, then prudently retreated, even taking the cat with her, that
+the gentlemen might be entirely alone and undisturbed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Drink it, pray drink it,&quot; urged Ludwig, and waited until the
+burgomaster had finished his scanty breakfast; which was quickly done.
+&quot;Well? What is it!&quot; asked the latter, pushing his cup aside.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have news for you: Freyer is here!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot; The burgomaster started, and an ominous flush crimsoned his face.
+His hand trembled nervously as he smoothed his hair, once so beautiful,
+now grey. &quot;Freyer--! How did he get here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know--the question died on my lips when I saw him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, he is such a spectacle, ill, half starved--in rags, an <i>Ecce
+homo</i>! I thought my heart would break when I saw him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Aha--so Nemesis is here already.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! do not speak so. Such a Nemesis is too cruel! I do not know what
+has befallen him--I could ask no questions, but I do know that Freyer
+has done nothing which deserves such a punishment. You can have no idea
+of the man's condition. He is lying at home--unable to move a limb.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster shrugged his shoulders. &quot;What have I to do with it? You
+know that I never sympathize with self-created sorrows.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You need not, only you must help me obtain some means of livelihood
+for the unfortunate man. He still has his share of the receipts of the
+last Passion Play. He was not present at the distribution, but he
+played the Christus from May until August--to the best of my
+recollection his portion was between seven and eight hundred marks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite right. But as he had run away and moreover very generously
+bequeathed all his property to the poor--I could not suppose that I
+must save the sum for a rainy day, and that he would so soon be in the
+position of becoming a burden upon the community!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What did you do with the money?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't you know? I divided it with the rest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig stamped his foot. &quot;Oh, Heaven? that was my only hope! But he
+must have assistance, he has neither clothing nor shoes! I haven't a
+penny in the house except what we need for food. He cannot be seen
+in these garments, he would rather die. We cannot expose him to
+mockery--we must respect ourselves in him, he was the best Christus we
+ever had, and though the play was interrupted by him, we owe him a
+greater success and a larger revenue than we formerly obtained during a
+whole season. And, in return, should we allow him to go with empty
+hands--like the poet in Schiller's division of the earth, because he
+came too late?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot; The burgomaster twisted his moustache with his thin fingers: &quot;I
+am sorry for him--but the thing is done and cannot be changed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It must be changed, the people must return the money!&quot; cried the
+drawing-master vehemently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster looked at him with his keen eyes, half veiled by their
+drooping lids. &quot;Ask them,&quot; he said calmly and coldly. &quot;Go and get
+it--if it can be had.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig bit his lips. &quot;Then something must be done by the parish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That requires an agreement of the whole parish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Call a meeting then.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm, hm!&quot; The burgomaster smiled: &quot;That is no easy matter. What do you
+think the people will answer, if I say: 'Herr Freyer ran away from us,
+interrupted the performances, made us lose about 100,000 marks,
+discredited the Passion Play in our own eyes and those of the world,
+and asks in return the payment of 800 marks from the parish treasury?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig let his arms fall in hopeless despair. &quot;Then I don't know what
+to do--I must support my helpless old sisters. I cannot maintain him,
+too, or I would ask no one's aid. I think it should be a point of honor
+with us Ammergau people not to leave a member of the parish in the
+lurch, when he returns home poor and needy, especially a man like
+Freyer, whom we have more cause to thank than to reproach, say what you
+will. We are not a penal institution.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, nor an asylum.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, we need be neither, but merely a community of free men, who
+should be solely ruled by the thought of love, but unfortunately have
+long ceased to be so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster leaned quietly back in his chair, the drawing-master
+became more and more heated, as the other remained cold.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You always take refuge behind the parish, when you don't <i>wish</i> to do
+anything--but when you <i>desire</i> it, the parish never stands in your
+way!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster pressed his hand to his brow, as if thinking wearied
+him. He belonged to the class of men whose hearts are in their heads.
+If anything made his heart ache, it disturbed his brain too. He
+remained silent a long time while Ludwig paced up and down the room,
+trembling with excitement. At last, not without a touch of bitter
+humor, he said:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am well aware of that, you always say so whenever I do anything that
+does not suit you. I should like to see what would become of you, with
+your contradictory, impulsive artist nature, to-day 'Hosanna' and
+to-morrow 'Crucify Him,' if I did not maintain calmness and steadiness
+for you. If I, who bear the responsibility of acting, changed my
+opinions as quickly as you do and converted each of your momentary
+impulses into an act--I ought at least to possess the power to
+kill to-day, and to-morrow, when you repented, restore the person to
+life. Ten years ago, when Freyer left us in the lurch for the sake
+of a love affair, and dealt a blow to all we held sacred--you threw
+yourself into my arms and wept on my breast over the enormity of his
+deed--now--because I am not instantly touched by a few rags and
+tatters, and the woe-begone air of a penitent recovering from a moral
+debauch, you will weep on your friend's bosom over the harshness and
+want of feeling of the burgomaster! I'm used to it. I know you
+hotspurs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He drew a pair of boots from under the stove. &quot;There--I am the owner of
+just two pairs of boots. You can take one to your protégé, that he may
+at least appear before me in a respectable fashion to discuss the
+matter! I don't do it at the cost of the parish, however. And I can
+give you an old coat too--I was going to send it to my Anton, but, no
+matter! Only I beg you not to tell him from whom the articles come, or
+he will hate me because I was in a situation to help <i>him</i>--instead of
+he <i>me</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, how little you know him!&quot; cried Ludwig.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster smiled. &quot;I know the Ammergau people--and he is one of
+them!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you in his name,&quot; said Ludwig, instantly appeased.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, you see you thank me for that, yet it is the least important
+thing. This is merely a private act of charity which I might show any
+rascal I pitied. But when I, as burgomaster, rigidly guard the honor of
+Ammergau and consider whom I recommend to public sympathy, you reproach
+me for it! Before I call a parish meeting and answer for him
+officially, I must know whether he is worthy of it, and what his
+condition is.&quot; He again pressed his hand to his head. &quot;Send him to me
+at the office--then we will see.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig held out his hand. &quot;No offence, surely we know how we feel
+toward each other.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the drawing-master had gone, the burgomaster drew a long breath
+and remained for some time absorbed in thought. Then he glanced at the
+clock, not to learn the hour but to ascertain whether the conversation
+had lasted long enough to account for his headache and exhaustion. The
+result did not seem to soothe him. &quot;Where will this end?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His wife looked in &quot;Well, Father, what is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster took his hat. &quot;Freyer is here!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens!&quot; She clasped her hands in amazement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, it was a great excitement to me. Tell Anastasia, that she may not
+learn the news from strangers. She has long been resigned, but of
+course this will move her deeply! And above all, don't let anything be
+said about it in the shop, I don't want the tidings to get abroad in
+the village, at least through us. Farewell!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster's family enjoyed a small prerogative: the salt
+monopoly, and a little provision store where the tireless industry of
+the self-sacrificing wife collected a few groschen, &quot;If I don't make
+something--who will?&quot; she used to say, with a keen thrust at her
+husband's absence of economy. So the burgomaster did not mention his
+extravagance in connection with the boots and coat. He could not bear
+even just reproaches now. &quot;A man was often compelled to exceed his
+means in a position like his&quot;--but women did not understand that.
+Therefore, as usual, he fled from domestic lectures to the inaccessible
+regions of his office.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster's sister no longer lived in the same house. As she grew
+older, she had moved into one near the church which she inherited from
+her mother, where she lived quietly alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, who's to run over to Stasi,&quot; lamented the burgomaster's wife,
+&quot;when we all have our hands full. As if she wouldn't hear it soon
+enough. He'll never marry her! Rosel, Rosel!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster's youngest daughter, the predestined Mary of the
+future, came in from the shop.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Run up to your aunt and tell her that Herr Freyer has come back, your
+father says so!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will he play the Christus again?&quot; asked the child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How do I know--your father didn't say! Perhaps so--they have no one.
+Oh dear, this Passion Play will be your father's death!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The shop-bell, pleasantest of sounds to the anxious woman,
+rang--customers must not be kept waiting, even for a little package of
+coffee. She hurried into the shop, and Rosel to her aunt Stasi.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was a good day to the burgomaster's worthy wife. The whole village
+bought something, in order to learn something about the interesting
+event which the Gross sisters, of course, had told early in the
+morning. And, as the burgomaster's wife maintained absolute silence,
+what the people did not know they invented--and of course the worst and
+most improbable things. Ere noon the wildest rumors were in
+circulation, and parties had formed who disputed vehemently over them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster's wife was in the utmost distress. Everybody wanted
+information from her, and how easily she might let slip some incautious
+remark! In her task of keeping silence, she actually forgot that she
+really had nothing at all to conceal--because she knew nothing herself.
+Yet the fear of having said a word too much oppressed the conscientious
+woman so sorely that afterward, much to her husband's benefit, she was
+remarkably patient and spared him the usual reproach of not having
+thought of his wife and children, when she discovered that he had given
+away his boots and coat!--</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thus in the strange little village the loftiest and the lowliest things
+always go hand in hand. But the noble often succumbs to the petty, when
+it lacks the power to rise above it.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_33" href="#div1Ref_33">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>RECEIVED AGAIN</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">All through the morning the street where Ludwig's house stood
+was
+crowded with people. Toward noon a whisper ran through the throng: &quot;He
+is coming!&quot; and Freyer appeared. Many pressed forward curiously but
+shrank back again as Freyer drew near. &quot;Good Heavens, how he looks!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer tottered past them, raising his hat in greeting, but spite of
+his modest bearing and simple garb he seemed to have become so
+aristocratic a gentleman, that no one ventured to accost him. Something
+emanating from him inspired reverence, as if--in the presence of the
+dead. He was dead--at least to the world. The people felt this and the
+gossip suddenly ceased--the parties formed in an envious or malicious
+spirit were reconciled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He won't live long!&quot; This was the magic spell which soothed all
+contention. If he had any sin on his conscience, he would soon atone
+for it, if he had more money than the rest, he must soon &quot;leave it
+behind,&quot; and if he desired to take a part he could not keep it long!
+Only the children who meanwhile had grown into tall lads and lasses ran
+trustfully to meet him, holding out their hands with the grace and
+charm peculiar to the Ammergau children. And because the grown people
+followed him, the little ones did the same. He stopped and talked with
+them, recognizing and calling by name each of the older ones, while
+their bright eyes gazed searchingly into his, as sunbeams pierce dark
+caverns. &quot;Have you been ill, Herr Freyer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, my dear children--or yes, as people may regard it, but I shall get
+well with you!&quot; And, clasping half a dozen of the little hands in his,
+he walked on with them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you play the divine friend of children with us again?&quot; asked one
+of the larger girls beseechingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When Christmas comes, we will all play it again!&quot; A strange smile
+transfigured Freyer's features, and tears filled his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you stay with us now?&quot; they asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes!&quot; It was only a single word, but the children felt that it was a
+vow, and the little band pressed closer and closer around him: &quot;Yes,
+now you must never go away!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer lifted a little boy in his arms and hid his face on the child's
+breast: &quot;No, <i>never</i>, <i>never</i> more!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A solemn silence reigned for a moment. The grief of a pure heart is
+sacred, and a child's soul feels the sacredness. The little group
+passed quietly through the village, and the children formed a
+protecting guard around him, so that the grown people could not hurt
+him with curious questions. The children showed their parents that
+peace must dwell between him and them--for the Ammergau people knew
+that in their children dwelt the true spirit which they had lost to a
+greater or less degree in the struggle for existence. The <i>children</i>
+had adopted him--now he was again at home in Ammergau; no parish
+meeting was needed to give him the rights of citizenship.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The little procession reached the town-hall. Freyer put the child he
+was carrying on the ground--it did not want to leave him. The grown
+people feared him, but the children considered him their own property
+and were reluctant to give him up. Not until after long persuasion
+would they let him enter. As he ascended the familiar stairs his heart
+throbbed so violently that he was obliged to lean against the wall. A
+long breath, a few steps more--then a walk through the empty council
+room to the office, a low knock, the well-known &quot;come in!&quot;--and he
+stood before the burgomaster. It is not the custom among the people of
+Ammergau to rise when receiving each other. &quot;Good-morning!&quot; said the
+burgomaster, keeping his seat as if to finish some pressing task--but
+really because he was struggling for composure: &quot;Directly!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer remained standing at the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster went on writing. A furtive glance surveyed the figure
+in his coat and shoes--but he did not raise his eyes to Freyer's face,
+the latter would have seen it. At last he gained sufficient composure
+to speak, and now feigned to be aware for the first time of the
+new-comer's identity. &quot;Ah, Herr Freyer!&quot; he said, and the eyes of the
+two men met. It was a sad sight to both.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster, once so strong and stately, aged, shrunken,
+prematurely worn. Freyer an image of suffering which was almost
+startling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Herr Burgomaster, I do not know--whether I may still venture--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pray take a chair, Herr Freyer,&quot; said the burgomaster.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer did so, and sat down at some distance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You do not seem to have prospered very well,&quot; said the other, less to
+learn the truth than to commence conversation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You doubtless see that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes----! I could have wished that matters had resulted differently!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Both were silent, overpowered by emotion. At the end of a few minutes
+the burgomaster continued in a low tone: &quot;I meant so well by you--it is
+a pity--!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, you have <i>much</i> to forgive me, no one knows that better than
+I--but you will not reject a penitent man, if he wishes to make amends
+for the wrong.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster rubbed his forehead: &quot;I do not reject you, but--I have
+already told the drawing-master, I only regret that I can do nothing
+for you. You are not ill--I cannot support you from the fund for the
+sick and it will be difficult to accomplish anything with the parish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Herr Burgomaster, I never expected to be supported. Only, when I
+arrived yesterday I was so weary that I could explain nothing to
+Ludwig, otherwise he would surely have spared you and me the step which
+his great sympathy induced him to take. The clothing with which you
+have helped me out of embarrassment for the moment, I will gratefully
+accept as <i>loaned</i>, but I hope to repay you later.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pray let us say no more about it!&quot; answered the burgomaster, waving
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes! For it can only shame me if you generously bestow material
+aid--and yet cherish resentment against me in your heart for the wrong
+I have done. What my sick soul most needs is reconciliation with you
+and my home. And for that I <i>can</i> ask.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am not implacable, Herr Freyer! You have done me no personal
+wrong--you have merely injured the cause which lies nearest to my heart
+of anything in the world. This is a grief, which must be fought down,
+but for which I cannot hold you responsible, though it cost me health
+and life. I feel no personal rancor for what had no personal intention.
+If a man flings a stone at the image of a saint and unintentionally
+strikes me on the temple, I shall not make him responsible for
+that--but for having aimed at something which was sacred to others. To
+<i>punish</i> him for it I shall leave to a higher judge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Permit me to remain silent. You must regard the matter thus from your
+standpoint, and I can show you no better one. The right of defense is
+denied me. Only I would fain defend myself against the reproach that
+what is sacred to others is not to me. Precisely because it is sacred
+to me--perhaps more sacred than to others, I have sinned against it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is a contradiction which I do not understand!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And I cannot explain!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, it is not my business to pry into your secrets and judge your
+motives. I am not your confessor. I told you that I left God to judge
+such things. My duty as burgomaster requires me to aid any member of
+the parish to the best of my ability in matters pertaining to earning a
+livelihood. If you will give me your confidence, I am ready to aid you
+with advice and action. I don't know what you wish to do. You gave your
+little property to our poor--do you wish to take it back?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, never, Herr Burgomaster, I never take back what I give,&quot; replied
+Freyer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But you will then find it difficult, more difficult than others, to
+support yourself,&quot; the burgomaster continued. &quot;You went to the
+carving-school too late to earn your bread by wood-carving. You know no
+trade--you are too well educated to pursue more menial occupations,
+such as those of a day-laborer, street-sweeper, etc.--and you would be
+too proud to live at the expense of the parish, even if we could find a
+way of securing a maintenance for you. It is really very difficult, one
+does not know what to say. Perhaps a messenger's place might be
+had--the carrier from Linderhof has been ill a long time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have no anxiety on that score, Herr Burgomaster. During my absence, I
+devoted my leisure time mainly to drawing and modelling. I also read a
+great deal, especially scientific works, so that I believe I could
+support myself by carving, if I keep my health. If that fails, I'll
+turn wood-cutter. The forest will be best for me. That gives me no
+anxiety.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster again rubbed his forehead. &quot;Perhaps if the indignation
+roused by your desertion has subsided, it may be possible to give you
+employment at the Passion Theatre as superintendent, assistant, or in
+the wardrobe room.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer rose, a burning blush crimsoned his face, instantly
+followed by a deathlike pallor. &quot;You are not in earnest, Herr
+Burgomaster--I--render menial service in the Passion--I? Then woe
+betide the home which turns her sons from her threshold with mockery
+and disgrace, when they seek her with the yearning and repentance of
+mature manhood.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer covered his face with his hands, grief robbed him of speech.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster gave him a moment's time to calm himself. &quot;Yes, Herr
+Freyer, but tell me, do you expect, after all that has occurred, to be
+made the Christus?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What else should I expect? For what other purpose should <i>I</i> come here
+than to aid the community in need, for my dead cousin Josepha received
+a letter from one of our relatives here, stating that you had no
+Christus and did not know what to do. It seemed to me like a summons
+from Heaven and I knew at that moment where my place was allotted. Life
+had no farther value for me--one thought only sustained me, to be
+something to my <i>home</i>, to repair the injury I had done her, atone for
+the sin I had committed--and this time I should have accomplished it. I
+walked night and day, with one desire in my heart, one goal before my
+eyes, and now--to be rejected thus--oh, it is too much, it is the last
+blow!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Herr Freyer--I am extremely sorry, and can understand how it must
+wound you, yet you must see yourself that we cannot instantly give a
+man who voluntarily, not to say <i>wilfully</i>, deserted us and remained
+absent so long that he has become a stranger, the most important part
+in the Play when want forces him to again seek a livelihood in
+Ammergau.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am become a stranger because I remained absent ten years? May God
+forgive you, Herr Burgomaster. We must both render an account to Him of
+our fulfilment of His sacred mission--He will then decide which of us
+treasured His image more deeply in his heart--you here--or I in the
+world outside.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is very beautiful and sounds very noble--but, Herr Freyer, you
+<i>prove</i> nothing by your appeal to God, He is patient and the day which
+must bring this decision is, I hope, still far distant from you and
+myself!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is perhaps nearer to me than you suppose, Herr Burgomaster!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Such phrases touch women, but not men, Herr Freyer!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer straightened himself like a bent bush which suddenly shakes off
+the snow that burdened it. &quot;I have not desired to touch any one, my
+conscience is clear, and I do not need to appeal to your compassion. A
+person may be ill and feeble enough to long for sympathy, without
+intending to profit by it. I thought that I might let my heart speak,
+that I should be understood here. I was mistaken. It is not <i>I</i> who
+have become estranged from my home--home has grown alienated from me
+and you, as the ruling power in the community, who might mediate
+between us, sever the last bond which united me to it. Answer for it
+one day to Ammergau, if you expel those who would shed their heart's
+blood for you, and to whom the cause of the Passion Play is still an
+earnest one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Herr Freyer, it would be sad indeed if we were compelled to seek
+earnest supporters of our cause in the ranks of the deserters--who
+abandoned us from selfish motives.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Herr Burgomaster!--&quot; Freyer reflected a moment--it was difficult to
+fathom what was passing in his mind--it seemed as if he were gathering
+strength from the inmost depths of his heart to answer this accusation.
+&quot;It is a delicate matter to speak in allegories, where deeds are
+concerned--you began it out of courtesy to me--and I will continue from
+the same motive, though figurative language is not to my taste--we
+strike a mark in life without having aimed! But to keep to your simile:
+I have only deserted in my own person, if you choose to call it so, and
+have now voluntarily returned--But you, Herr Burgomaster, how have you
+guarded, in my absence, the fortress entrusted to your care?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster flushed crimson, but his composure remained unshaken:
+&quot;Well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have opened your gates to the most dangerous foes, to everything
+which cannot fail to destroy the good old Ammergau customs; you have
+done everything to attract strangers and help Ammergau in a business
+way--it was well meant in the material sense--but not in the ideal one
+which you emphasize so rigidly in my case! The more you open Ammergau
+to the influences of the outside world, the more the simplicity, the
+piety, the temperance will vanish, without which no great work of faith
+like the Passion Play is possible. The world has a keen appreciation of
+truth--the world believes in us because we ourselves believe in it--as
+soon as we progress so far in civilization that it becomes a farce to
+our minds, we are lost, for then it will be a farce to the world also.
+You intend to secure in the Landrath the cutting of a road through the
+Ettal Mountain. That would be a great feat--one might say: 'Faith
+removes mountains,' for on account of the Passion Play consent would
+perhaps be granted, then your name, down to the latest times, would be
+mentioned in the history of Ammergau with gratitude and praise. But do
+you know what you will have done? You will have let down the drawbridge
+to the mortal foe of everything for which you battle, removed the wall
+which protected the individuality of Ammergau and amid all the changes
+of the times, the equalizing power of progress, has kept it that
+miracle of faith to which the world makes pilgrimages. For a time the
+world will come in still greater throngs by the easier road--but in a
+few decades it will no longer find the Ammergau it seeks--its flood
+will have submerged it, washed it away, and a new, prosperous, politic
+population will move upon the ruins of a vanished time and a buried
+tradition.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer!&quot; The burgomaster was evidently moved: &quot;You see the matter in
+too dark colors--we are still the old people of Ammergau and God will
+help us to remain so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, you are so no longer. Already there are traces of a different,
+more practical view of life--of so-called progress. I read to-day at
+Ludwig's the play-bills of the practise theatre which you have
+established during the last ten years since the Passion Play! Herr
+Burgomaster, have you kept in view the seriousness of the mission of
+Ammergau when you made the actors of the Passion buffoons?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer!&quot; The burgomaster drew himself up haughtily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, Herr Burgomaster, have you performed no farces, or at least
+comic popular plays? Was the Carver of Ammergau--which for two years
+you had <i>publicly</i> performed on the consecrated ground of the Passion
+Theatre, adapted to keep the impression of the Passion Play in the
+souls of the people of Ammergau? No--the last tear of remembrance which
+might have lingered would be dried by the exuberant mirth, which once
+roused would only too willingly exchange the uncomfortable tiara for
+the lighter fool's cap! And you gave the world this spectacle, Herr
+Burgomaster, you showed the personators of the story of our Lord and
+Saviour's sufferings in this guise to the strangers, who came, still
+full of reverence, to see the altar--on which the sacred fire had
+smouldered into smoke! I know you will answer that you wished to give
+the people a little breathing space after the terrible earnestness of
+the Passion Play and, from your standpoint, this was prudent, for you
+will be the gainer if the community is cheerful under your rule. Happy
+people are more easily governed than grave, thoughtful ones! I admit
+that you have no other desire than to make the people happy according
+to your idea, and that your whole ambition is to leave Ammergau great
+and rich. But, Herr Burgomaster, you cannot harmonize the two objects
+of showing the world, with convincing truth, the sublime religion of
+pain and resignation, and living in ease and careless frivolity. The
+divine favor cannot be purchased without the sacrifice of pleasure and
+personal comfort, otherwise we are merely performing a puppet show with
+God, and His blessing will be withdrawn.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer paused and stood gazing into vacancy with folded arms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster watched him calmly a long time. &quot;I have listened to you
+quietly because your view of the matter interested me. It is the idea
+of an enthusiast, a character becoming more and more rare in our
+prosaic times. But pardon me--I can give it only a subjective value.
+According to your theory, I must keep Ammergau, as a bit of the Middle
+Ages, from any contact with the outside world, rob it of every aid in
+the advancement of its industrial and material interests in order, as
+it were, to prepare the unfortunate people, by want and trouble, to be
+worthy representatives of the Passion. This would be admirable if,
+instead of Burgomaster of Ammergau, I were Grand Master of an Order for
+the practice of spiritual asceticism--and Ammergau were a Trappist
+monastery. But as burgomaster of a secular community, I must first of
+all provide for its prosperity, and that this would produce too much
+luxury there is not, as yet, unfortunately, the slightest prospect! My
+task as chief magistrate of a place is first to render it as great,
+rich, and happy as possible, that is a direct obligation to the village
+and an indirect one to the State. Not until I have satisfied <i>this</i> can
+I consider the more ideal side of my office--in my capacity as director
+of the Passion Play. But even there I have no authority to exercise any
+moral constraint in the sense of your noble--but fanatical and
+unpractical view. You must have had bitter experiences, Herr Freyer,
+that you hold earthly blessings so cheap, and you must not expect to
+convert simple-hearted people, who enjoy their lives and their work, to
+these pessimistic views, as if we could serve our God only with a
+troubled mind. We must let a people, as well as a single person, retain
+its individuality. I want to rear no hypocrites, and I cannot force
+martyrdom on any one, in order to represent the Passion Play more
+naturally. Such things cannot be enforced.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For that very reason you need people who will do them voluntarily! And
+though, thank Heaven, they still exist in Ammergau, you have not such
+an over supply that you need repel those who would fain increase the
+little band. Believe me, I have lived in closer communion with my home
+in the outside world than if I had remained here and been swayed by the
+various opposing streams of our brothers' active lives! Do you know
+where the idea of the Passion Play reveals itself in its full beauty?
+Not here in Ammergau--but in the world outside--as the gas does not
+give its light where it is prepared, but at a distance. Therefore, I
+think you ought not to measure a son of Ammergau's claim according to
+the time he has spent here, but according to the feeling he cherishes
+for Ammergau, and in this sense even <i>the stranger</i> may be a better
+representative of Ammergau than the natives of the village themselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Freyer, you are right--but--<i>one</i> frank word deserves another.
+You have surprised and touched me--but although I am compelled to make
+many concessions to circumstances and the spirit of the times, which
+are in contradiction to my own views and involve me in conflicts with
+myself, of which you younger men probably have no idea--nothing in the
+world will induce me to be faithless to my principles in matters
+connected with the Passion. Forgive the harsh words, Freyer, but I must
+say it: Your actions do not agree with the principles you have just
+uttered, and you cannot make this contradiction appear plausible to any
+one. Who will credit the sincerity of your moral rigor after you have
+lived nine years in an equivocal relation with the lady with whom you
+left us? Freyer, a man who has done <i>that</i>--can no longer personate the
+Christ.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer stood silent as a statue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster held out his hand--&quot;You see that I cannot act
+otherwise; do you not? Rather let the Play die out utterly than a
+Christus on whom rests a stain. So long as you cannot vindicate
+yourself--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer drew himself proudly: &quot;And that I will never do!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You must renounce it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I must renounce it. Farewell, Herr Burgomaster!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer bowed and left the room--he was paler than when he entered, but
+no sound betrayed the mortal anguish gnawing at his heart. The
+burgomaster, too, was painfully moved. His poor head was burning--he
+was sorry for Freyer, but he could not do otherwise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Just as Freyer reached the door, a man hurried in with a letter, Freyer
+recognized the large well-known chirography on the envelope as he
+passed--Countess Wildenau's handwriting. His brain reeled, and he was
+compelled to cling to the door post. The burgomaster noticed it.
+&quot;Please sit down a moment, Herr Freyer--the letter is addressed to me,
+but will probably concern you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man retired. Freyer stood irresolute.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster read the contents of the note at a glance, then handed
+it to Freyer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you--I do not read letters which are not directed to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, then I must tell you. The Countess Wildenau, not having
+your address, requests me to take charge of a considerable sum of money
+which I am to invest for you in landed property or in stocks, according
+to my own judgment. You were not to hear of it until the gift had been
+legally attested. But I deem it my duty to inform you of this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer stood calmly before him, with a clear, steadfast gaze. &quot;I cannot
+be forced to accept a gift if I do not desire it, can I?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then please write to the countess that I can accept neither gifts nor
+any kind of assistance from--strangers, and that you, as well as I,
+will positively decline every attempt to show her generosity in this
+way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer!&quot; cried the burgomaster, &quot;will you not some day repent the
+pride which rejects a fortune thus flung into your lap?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am not proud--I begged my bread on my way here, Herr
+Burgomaster--and if there were no other means of livelihood, I would
+not be ashamed to accept the crust the poorest man would share with
+me--but from Countess Wildenau I will receive nothing--I would rather
+starve.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster sprang from his chair and approached him. His gaunt
+figure was trembling with emotion, his weary eyes flashed with
+enthusiasm, he extended his arms: &quot;Freyer--now you belong to us once
+more--<i>now</i> you shall again play the Christus.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Silently, in unutterable, mournful happiness, Freyer sank upon the
+burgomaster's breast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His home was appeased.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_34" href="#div1Ref_34">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>AT DAISENBERGER's GRAVE</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It was high noon. The children were at school, the grown
+people had
+gone to their work. The village was silent and no one stopped Freyer as
+he hurried down the broad old &quot;Aussergasse,&quot; as the main street of the
+place was called, with its painted houses, toward the graveyard and the
+church.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the cemetery beside the church stands a simple monument with a
+bronze bust. An unlovely head with all sorts of lines, as if nature had
+intentionally given this soul an ugly husk, out of wrath that it was
+not to be hers, that she could not have as much power over it as over
+other dust-born mortals--for this soul belonged to Heaven, earth had no
+share in it. But no matter how nature strove to disfigure it, its pure
+beauty shone through the physical covering so radiantly that even
+mortal eyes perceived only the beauty and overlooked the ugliness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This soul, which might also be called the soul of Ammergau, for it
+cherished the whole population of the village, lived for the people,
+gave them all and kept nothing for itself--this noble spirit, to whom
+the gratitude of the survivors, and they embraced the whole community,
+had created a monument, was Alois Daisenberger--the reformer of the
+Passion Play.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It is a peculiar phenomenon that the people of Ammergau, in contrast to
+all others, are grateful only for intellectual gifts while they punish
+physical benefits with scorn. It offends their pride to be compelled to
+accept such trifling donations and they cherish a suspicion that the
+donor may boast of his benefits. Whoever has not the self-denial to
+allay this suspicion by enduring all sorts of humiliations and affronts
+must not try to aid the Ammergau villagers. He who has done any <i>good</i>
+deed has accomplished <i>nothing</i>--not until he has atoned for it, as
+though it were something evil, does he lend it its proper value and
+appease the offended pride of the recipient.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the case with Daisenberger. He bore with saintly patience all
+the angularities and oddities of these strange characters--and they
+honored him as a saint for it. He had the eye of genius for the natural
+talent, a heart for the sufferings, appreciation of the intellectual
+grandeur of these people. And he gave security for it--for no worldly
+honor, no bishopric which was offered could lure him away. What was it
+that outweighed everything with which church and government desired to
+honor him? Whoever stands in the quiet graveyard, fanned by the keen
+mountain air which brings from the village stray notes of a requiem
+that is being practised, surrounded by snow-clad mountain-peaks gazing
+dreamily down on the little mound with its tiny cross, whoever gazes at
+the monument with its massive head, looking down upon the village from
+beneath a garland of fresh blue gentians, is overwhelmed by a mournful
+suspicion that here is concealed a secret in which a great intellect
+could find the satisfaction of its life! But it seems as if the key
+rested in Daisenberger's grave.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To this grave Freyer hastened. The first errand of the returned
+personator of Christ was to his author! The solitary grave lay
+forgotten by the world. It is a genuine work of faith and love when the
+author vanishes in his creation and leaves the honor to God. The whole
+world flocks to the Passion Play--but no one thinks of him who created
+for it the form which renders it available for the present time. It is
+the &quot;Oberammergau,&quot; not the &quot;Daisenberger&quot; Passion Play.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He gave to the people of Ammergau not only his life and powers--but
+also that which a man is most loth to resign--his fame. He was one to
+whom earth could neither give anything, nor take anything away.
+Therefore there were few who visited his grave in the little Ammergau
+churchyard. The grace and beauty of his grand and noble artist soul
+weave viewless garlands for it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer knelt in mute devotion beside the grave and prayed, not for
+himself, not even for him who was one of the host of the blessed, but
+to him, that he might sanctify his people and strengthen them with the
+sacred earnestness of their task. The longer he gazed at the iron, yet
+gentle face, without seeing any change in the familiar features, which
+had once smiled so kindly at him when he uttered for the first time the
+words expelling the money-changers from the temple--the greater became
+his grief, as if the soul of his people had died with Daisenberger, as
+if Ammergau were only a graveyard and he the sole mourner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, great, noble soul, which had room for a world, and yet confined
+yourself to this narrow valley in order to create in it for us a world
+of love--here lies your unworthy Christus moistening with his tears the
+stone which no angel will roll away that we may touch your transfigured
+body and say, give us thy spirit!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then, as if the metal mouth from which he implored an answer spoke with
+a brazen tongue, a bell echoed solemnly on the air. It was twelve
+o'clock. What the voice said could not be clothed in words. It had
+exhorted him when, in baptism, he was received into the covenant of Him
+whom he was chosen to personate--it had consoled him when, a weeping
+boy, he followed his father's bier, it had threatened him when on
+Sunday with his schoolmates, he pulled too violently at the bell-rope,
+it had warned him when he had lingered high up on the peaks of the
+Kofel or Laaber searching for Alpine roses or, shouting exultantly,
+climbing after chamois. A smile flitted over his face as he thought of
+those days! And then--then that very bell had pealed resonantly, like a
+voice from another world, on the morning of the Passion, at the hour
+when he stood in the robes of the Christ behind the curtain with the
+others to repeat the Lord's Prayer before the performance--the lofty,
+fervent prayer that God would aid them, that all might go well &quot;for His
+honor.&quot; And again it had rung solemnly and sweetly, when he saw the
+beautiful woman praying at dawn in the garden--to the imaginary God,
+which he was <i>not</i>. Then it seemed as if the bell burst--there was a
+shrill discord, a keen pang through brain and heart. Oh, memory--the
+past! Angel and fiend at once--why do you conjure up your visions
+before one dedicated to the cross and to death, why do you rouse the
+longing for what is irrevocably lost? Freyer, groaning aloud, rested
+his damp brow against the cold stone, and the bronze bust, as if in
+pity, dropped a blue gentian from its garland on the penitent's head
+with a light touch, like a kiss from spirit lips. He took it and placed
+it in his pocketbook beside the child's fair curl--the only thing left
+him of all his vanished happiness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then a hand was laid on his shoulder: &quot;I thank you--that <i>this</i> was
+your first visit.&quot; The sexton stood before him: &quot;I see that you have
+remained a true son of Ammergau. May God be with you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer's tears fell as he grasped the extended hand. &quot;Oh, noble blood
+of Daisenberger, thank you a thousand times. And you, true son of
+Ammergau--nephew of our dead guardian angel, tell me in his name, will
+you receive me again in your midst and in the sacred work?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know what you have done and experienced,&quot; said the sexton,
+gazing at him with his large, loyal brown eyes. &quot;I only saw you at a
+distance, praying beside my uncle's grave, and I thought that whoever
+did that could not be lost to us. By this dear grave, I give you my
+hand. Will you work with me, live, and if need be die for the sacred
+will of this dead man, for our great task, as he cherished it in his
+heart?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes and amen!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then may God bless you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The two men looked earnestly and loyally into each other's eyes, and
+their hands clasped across the consecrated mound, as though taking an
+oath.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Suddenly a woman, still beautiful though somewhat beyond youth,
+appeared, moving with dignified cordiality toward Freyer: &quot;Good-day,
+Herr Freyer; do you remember me?&quot; she said in a quiet, musical voice,
+holding out her hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mary!&quot; cried Freyer, clasping it. &quot;Anastasia, why should I not
+remember you? How do you do? But why do you call me Herr Freyer? Have
+we become strangers?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thought I ought not to use the old form of speech, you have been
+away so long, and&quot;--she paused an instant, looking at him with a
+pitying glance, as if to say: &quot;And are so unhappy.&quot; For delicate
+natures respect misfortune more than rank and wealth, and the sufferer
+is sacred to them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sexton looked at the clock: &quot;I must go, the vesper service begins
+again at one o'clock. Farewell till we meet again. Are you coming to
+the gymnasium this evening?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hardly--I am not very well. But we shall see each other soon. Are you
+married now? I have not asked--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sexton's face beamed with joy. &quot;Yes, indeed, and well married. I
+have a good wife. You'll see her when you call on me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A good wife--you are a happy man!&quot; said Freyer in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She has a great deal to do just now for the little one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah--you have a child, too!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And such a beautiful one!&quot; added Anastasia. &quot;A lovely little girl! She
+will be a Mary some day. But the sexton's wife is spoiling her, she
+hardly lets her out of her arms.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A good mother--that must be beautiful!&quot; said Freyer, with a strange
+expression, as if speaking in a dream. Then he pressed his friend's
+hand and turned to go.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you not bid me good bye, too?&quot; asked Anastasia. The sexton sadly
+made a sign behind Freyer's back, as if to say: &quot;he has suffered
+sorely!&quot; and went into his church.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer turned quickly. &quot;Yes, I forgot, my Mary. I am rude, am I not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No--not rude--only unhappy!&quot; said Anastasia, while a pitying look
+rested upon his emaciated face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes!&quot; replied Freyer, lowering his lids as if he did not wish her to
+read in his eyes <i>how</i> unhappy. But she saw it nevertheless. For a
+time the couple stood beside Daisenberger's grave. &quot;If <i>he</i> were only
+alive--he would know what would help you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer shook his head. &quot;If Christ Himself should come from Heaven, He
+could not help me, at least except through my faith in Him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Joseph, will you not go home with me? Look down yonder, there is my
+house. It is very pretty; come with me. I shall consider it an honor if
+you will stop there!&quot; She led the way. Freyer involuntarily followed,
+and they soon reached the little house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then you no longer live with your brother, the burgomaster?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no! After I grew older I longed for rest and solitude, and at my
+sister-in-law's there is always so much bustle on account of the shop
+and the children--one hears so many painful things said--&quot; She paused
+in embarrassment. Then opening the door into the little garden, they
+went to the rear of the house where they could sit on a bench
+undisturbed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What you heard was undoubtedly about me, and you could not endure it.
+You faithful soul--was not that the reason you left your relatives and
+lived alone?&quot; said Freyer, seating himself. &quot;Be frank--were you not
+obliged to hear many things against me, till you at last doubted your
+old schoolmate?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes--many evil things were said of you and the princess--but I never
+believed them. I do not know what happened, but whatever it was, <i>you</i>
+did nothing wrong.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mary, where did you obtain this confidence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why,&quot; she answered smiling, &quot;surely I know my son--and what mother
+would distrust her <i>child</i>?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer was deeply moved: &quot;Oh, you virgin mother. Marvel of Heaven, when
+in the outside world a mother abandoned her own child--here a child was
+maturing into a mother for me, a mother who would have compassion on
+the deserted one. Mary, pure maid-servant of God, how have I deserved
+this mercy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I always gave you a mother's love, from the time we played together,
+and I have mourned for you as a mother all the nine years. But I
+believed in you and hoped that you would some day return and close your
+old mother's eyes and, though twenty years had passed, I should not
+have ceased to hope. I was right, and you have come! Ah! I would
+not let myself dream that I should ever play with you again in the
+Passion--ever hold my Christus in my arms and support his weary head
+when he is taken down from the cross. That happiness transcends every
+other joy! True, I am an old maid now, and I wonder that they should
+let me take the part again. I am thirty-nine, you know, rather old for
+the Mary, yet I think it will be more natural, for Mary, too, was old
+when Christ was crucified!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thirty-nine, and still unmarried--such a beautiful creature--how did
+that happen, Mary?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She smiled: &quot;Oh, I did not wish to marry any one.--I could not care for
+any one as I did for my Christus!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Great Heaven, is this on my conscience too? A whole life wasted in
+silent hope, love, and fidelity to me--smiling and unreproachful! This
+soul might have been mine, this flower bloomed for me in the quiet home
+valley, and I left it to wither while searing heart and brain in the
+outside world. Mary, I will not believe that you have lost your life
+for my sake--you are still so beautiful, you will yet love and be happy
+at some good man's side.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no, what fancy have you taken into your head! That was over long
+ago,&quot; she answered gayly. &quot;I am a year older than you--too old for a
+woman. Look, when the hair is grey, one no longer thinks of marrying.&quot;
+And pushing back her thick brown hair from her temples, she showed
+beneath white locks--as white as snow!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, you have grown grey, perhaps for me--!&quot; he said, deeply moved.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, maternal cares age one early.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He flung himself in the grass before her, unable to speak. She passed
+her hand gently over his bowed head: &quot;Ah, if my poor son had only
+returned a happy man--how my heart would have rejoiced. If you had
+brought back a dear wife from the city, I would have helped her, done
+the rough work to which she was not accustomed--and if you had had a
+child, how I would have watched and tended it! If it had been a boy, we
+would have trained him to be the Christus--would we not? Then for
+twenty years he could have played it--your image.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer started as though the words had pierced his inmost soul. She did
+not suspect it, and went on: &quot;Then perhaps the Christus might have
+descended from child to grandchild in your family--that would have been
+beautiful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He made no reply; a low sob escaped his breast.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have often imagined such things during the long years when I sat
+alone through the winter evenings! But unfortunately it has not
+resulted so! You return a poor lonely man--and silver threads are
+shining in <i>your</i> hair too. When I look at them, I long to weep. What
+did those wicked strangers in the outside world do to you, my poor
+Joseph, that you are so pale and ill? It seems as if they had crucified
+you and taken you down from the cross ere life had wholly departed; and
+now you could neither live nor die, but moved about like one half dead.
+I fancy I can see your secret wounds, your poor heart pierced by the
+spear! Oh, my suffering child, rest your head once more on the knee of
+her who would give her heart's blood for you!&quot; She gently drew his head
+down and placing one hand under it, like a soft cushion, lovingly
+stroked his forehead as if to wipe away the blood-stains of the crown
+of thorns, while tear after tear fell from her long lashes on her
+son--the son of a virgin mother.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Silence reigned around them--there was a rustling sound above their
+heads as if the wind was blowing through palms and cedars--a weeping
+willow spread its boughs above them, and from the churchyard wall the
+milkwort nodded a mute greeting from Golgotha.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_35" href="#div1Ref_35">CHAPTER XXXV.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE WATCHWORD</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">While the lost son of Ammergau was quietly and sadly
+permitting the
+miracle of his home to produce its effect upon him, and rising from one
+revelation to another along the steep path which again led him to the
+cross, the countess was languishing in the oppressive atmosphere of the
+capital and its relations.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Three days had passed since the parting from Freyer, but she scarcely
+knew it! She lived behind her closed curtains and in the evenings
+sat in the light of lamps subdued by opalescent shades, as if in a
+never-changing white night, in which there could be neither dusk nor
+dawn. And it was the same in her soul. Reason--cold, joyless reason,
+with its calm, monotonous light, now ruled her, she had exhausted all
+the forces of grief in those farewell hours. For grief, too, is a force
+which can be exhausted, and then the soul will rest in indifference.
+Everything was now the same to her. The sacrifice and the cost of the
+sacrifice. What did the world contain that was worth trouble and
+anxiety? Nothing! Everything she had hoped for on earth had proved
+false--false and treacherous. Life had kept its promise to her in
+nothing; there was no happiness, only he who had no desires was
+happy--a happiness no better than death! And she had not even reached
+that stage! She still wanted so many things: honor, power, beauty, and
+luxury, which only wealth procures--and therefore this also.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now she flung herself into the arms of beauty--&quot;seeking in it the
+divine&quot; and the man who offered her his hand in aid would understand
+how to obtain for her, with taste and care, the last thing she expected
+from life--pleasure! Civilization had claimed her again, she was the
+woman of the century, a product of civilization! She desired nothing
+more. A marriage of convenience with a clever, aristocratic man, with
+whom she would become a patron of art and learning; a life of amusement
+and pleasurable occupation she now regarded as the normal one, and the
+only one to be desired.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">While Freyer, among his own people, was returning to primitiveness and
+simplicity, she was constantly departing farther from it, repelled and
+terrified by the phenomena with which Nature, battling for her eternal
+rights, confronted her. For Nature is a tender mother only to him who
+deals honestly with her--woe betide him who would trifle with her--she
+shows him her terrible earnestness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Only despise reason and learning, the highest powers of mankind!&quot; How
+often the Mephistopheles within her soul had jeeringly cried. Yes, he
+was right--she was punished for having despised and misunderstood the
+value of the work of civilization at which mankind had toiled for
+years. She would atone for it. She had turned in a circle, the wheel
+had almost crushed her, but at least she was glad to have reached the
+same spot whence she started ten years ago. At least so she believed!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In this mood the duke found her on his return from Prankenberg.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good news, the danger is over! The old pastor was prudent enough to
+die with the secret!&quot; he cried, radiant with joy, as he entered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing was to be found! There is nothing in the church record! The
+Wildenaus have no proof and can do nothing unless Herr Freyer plays us
+a trick with the marriage certificate--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That anxiety is needless!&quot; replied the countess, taking from her
+writing-table the little package containing Freyer's farewell note, the
+marriage certificate, and the account-book. &quot;There, read it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her face wore a strange expression as she handed it to him, a look as
+if she were accusing him of having tempted her to murder an innocent
+person. She was pale and there was something hostile, reproachful, in
+her attitude.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke glanced through the papers. &quot;This is strange,&quot; he said very
+gravely: &quot;Is the man so great--or so small?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So great!&quot; she murmured under her breath.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm! I should not have expected it of him. Is this no farce? Has he
+really gone?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes! And here is something else.&quot; She gave him the burgomaster's
+letter: &quot;This is the answer I received to-day to my offer to provide
+for Freyer's future.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If this is really greatness--then--&quot; the prince drew a long breath as
+if he could not find the right word: &quot;Then--I don't know whether we
+have done right.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess felt as if a thunderbolt had struck her. &quot;<i>You</i> say
+that--<i>you</i>?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke rose and paced up and down the room. &quot;I always tell the truth.
+If this man was capable of such an act--then--I reproach myself, for he
+deserved better treatment than to be flung overboard in this way, and
+we have incurred a great responsibility.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good Heavens, and you say this now, when it is too late!&quot; groaned the
+unhappy woman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Be calm. The fault is <i>mine</i>--not yours. I will assume the whole
+responsibility--but it oppresses me the more heavily because, ever
+since I went to Prankenberg, I have been haunted by the question
+whether this was really necessary? My object was first of all to save
+you. In this respect I have nothing for which to reproach myself. But
+I overestimated your danger and undervalued Freyer. I did not know
+him--now that I do my motive dissolves into nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He cast another glance at Freyer's farewell note and shook his head:
+&quot;It is hard to understand! What must it have cost thus at one blow to
+resign everything that was dear, give up without conditions the papers
+which at least would have made him a rich man--and all without one
+complaint, without any boastfulness, simply, naturally! Madeleine, it
+is overwhelming--it is <i>shameful</i> to us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess covered her face. Both remained silent a long time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke still gazed at the letter. Then, resting his head on his hand
+and looking fixedly into vacancy, he said: &quot;There is a constraining
+power about this man, which draws us all into its spell and compels us
+not to fall behind him in generosity. But--how is this to be done? He
+cannot be reached by ordinary means. I am beginning now to understand
+<i>what</i> bound you to him, and unfortunately I must admit that, with the
+knowledge, my guilt increases. My justification lay only in the
+misunderstanding of what now forces itself upon me as an undeniable
+fact--that Freyer was not so unworthy of you, Madeleine, as I
+believed!&quot; He read the inscription on the little bank book: &quot;To keep
+the graves of my dear ones!&quot; and was silent for a time as if something
+choked his utterance: &quot;How he must have suffered--! When I think how
+<i>I</i> love you, though you have never been mine--and he once called you
+his--resigned you and went away, with death in his heart! Oh, you
+women! Madeleine, how could you do this in cold blood? If it had been
+for love of me--but that illusion vanished long ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Condemned--condemned by you!&quot; moaned the countess in terror.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not condemn you, Madeleine, I only marvel that you could do it,
+if you knew the man as he is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did not know him in this guise,&quot; said the countess proudly. &quot;But--I
+will not be less honest than you, Duke, I am not sure that I could have
+done it, had I known him as I do <i>now</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke passed his handkerchief across his brow, which was already
+somewhat bald. &quot;One thing is certain--we owe the man some reparation.
+Something must be done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What shall we do? He will refuse anything we offer--though it were
+myself. That is evident from the burgomaster's letter.&quot; She closed her
+eyes to keep back the tears. &quot;All is vain--he can never forgive me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, he certainly cannot do that. But the man is worthy of having us
+fulfill the only wish he has expressed to you--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And that is?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To defer our marriage until the first anguish of his grief has had
+time to pass away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess drew a long breath, as if relieved of a heavy burden:
+&quot;Duke, that is generous and noble!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you had been legally wedded and were obliged to be legally
+divorced, we could not be united in less than a year. Let us show the
+poor man the honor of regarding him as your lawfully wedded husband and
+pay him the same consideration as if he were. That is all we can do for
+him at present, and I shall make it a point of honor to atone, by this
+sacrifice, in some degree for the heavy responsibility which is
+undeniably mine and which, as an honest man, I neither can nor desire
+to conceal from myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He went to her and held out his hand. &quot;I see by your radiant eyes,
+Countess, that this does not cost you the sacrifice which it does me--I
+will not pretend to be more unselfish than I am, for I hope by means of
+it to gain in your esteem what I lose in happiness by this time of
+delay!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He kissed her hand with a sorrowful expression which she had never seen
+in him before. &quot;Permit me to take leave of you for to-day, I have an
+engagement with Prince Hohenheim. To-morrow we will discuss the matter
+farther. <i>Bon soir</i>!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess was alone. An engagement with Prince Hohenheim! When had
+an engagement with any one taken precedence--of her? Duke Emil was
+using pretexts. She could not deceive herself, he was--not really cold,
+but chilled. What a terrible reproach to her! What neither time, nor
+any of her great or trivial errors had accomplished, what had not
+happened even when she preferred a poor low-born man to the rich
+noble--occurred now, when she rejected the former--for the latter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Many a person does not realize the strength of his own moral power, and
+how it will baffle the most crafty calculation. Every tragical result
+of a sin is merely the vengeance of these moral forces, which the
+criminal had undervalued when he planned the deed. This was the case
+with the duke. He had advised a breach with Freyer--advised it with the
+unselfish intention of saving her, but when the countess followed his
+advice and he saw by Freyer's conduct <i>what</i> a heart she had broken, he
+could not instantly love the woman who had been cruel enough to do an
+act which he could not pardon himself for having counselled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine Wildenau suspected this, though not to its full extent. The
+duke was far too chivalrous to think for a moment of breaking his
+plighted troth, or letting her believe that he repented it. But the
+delay which he proposed as an atonement to the man whom they had
+injured, said enough. Must <i>all</i> abandon her--every bridge on which she
+stepped break? Had she lost by her act even the man of whom she was
+sure--surer than of anything else in the world! How terrible then this
+deed must have been! Madeleine von Wildenau blushed for herself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet as there are certain traits in feminine nature which are the last a
+woman gives up, she now hated Freyer, hated him from a spirit of
+contradiction to the duke, who espoused his cause. And as the feminine
+nature desires above all things else that which is denied, she now
+longed to bind the duke again because she felt the danger of losing
+him. The fugitive must be stopped--the sport might perhaps lend her
+charmless, wretched life a certain interest. An unsatisfactory one, it
+is true, for even if she won him again--what then? What would she have
+in him? Could he be anything more to her than a pleasant companion
+who would restore her lost power and position? She glanced at her
+mirror--it showed her a woman of thirty-eight, rouged to seem ten years
+younger--but beneath this rouge were haggard cheeks. She could not
+conceal from herself that art would not suffice much longer--she
+had faded--her life was drawing toward evening, age spared no one!
+But--when she no longer possessed youth and beauty, when the time came
+that only the moral value of existence remained, what would she have
+then? To what could she look back--in what find satisfaction, peace?
+Society? It was always the same, with its good and evil qualities. To
+one who entered into an ethical relation with it, it contained besides
+its apparent superficiality boundless treasures and resources. &quot;The
+snow is hard enough to bear,&quot; people say in the mountains when, in the
+early Spring, the loose masses have melted into a firm crust. Thus,
+under the various streams, now cold, now warm, the surface of society
+melts and forms that smooth icy rind of form over which the light-foot
+glides carelessly, unconscious that beneath the thin surface are hidden
+depths in which the philosopher and psychologist find material enough
+for the study of a whole life. But when everything which could serve
+the purposes of amusement was exhausted, the countess' interest in
+society also failed. Once before she had felt a loathing for it, when
+she was younger than now--how would it be when she was an old woman?
+The arts? Already their spell had been broken and she had fled to
+Nature, because she could no longer believe in their beautiful lies.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sciences? They were least suited to afford pleasure! Had she not
+grown so weary of her amateur toying with their serious investigations
+that she fled, longing for a revelation, to the childish miracles of
+Oberammergau? Aye--she was again, after the lapse of ten years,
+standing in the selfsame spot, seeking her God as in the days when she
+fancied she had found His footprints. The trace proved delusive, and
+must she now begin again where ten years before she ended in weariness
+and discontent? Must she, who imagined that she had embraced the true
+essence, return to searching, doubting? No, the flower cannot go back
+into the closed bud; the feeling which caused the disappointment
+impelled onward to truth! Love for God had once unfolded, and though
+the object proved deceptive--the <i>feeling</i> was true, and struggled to
+find its goal as persistently as the flower seeks the sun after it has
+long vanished behind clouds. But had she missed her way because she
+thought she had reached the <i>goal</i> too <i>soon</i>? She had followed the
+trace no longer, but left it in anger--discouragement, at the first
+disappointment! What if the path which led her to Ammergau was the
+<i>right</i> one? And the guide along it <i>had</i> been sent by God? What if
+she
+had turned from the path because it was too long and toilsome, rejected
+the guide because he did not instantly bring God near to her impatient
+heart, and she must henceforth wander aimlessly without consolation or
+hope? And when the day of final settlement came, what imperishable
+goods would she possess? When the hour arrived which no mortal can
+escape, what could aid her in the last terror, save the consciousness
+of dwelling in the love of God, of going out of love to love--out of
+longing to fulfillment? She had rejected love, she had turned back in
+the path of longing and contented herself with earthly joys--and when
+she left the world she would have nothing, for the soul which does not
+seek, will not find! A life which has not fulfilled its moral task is
+not <i>finished</i>, only <i>broken off</i>, death to it is merely <i>
+destruction</i>,
+not <i>completion</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The miserable woman flung herself down before the mirror which showed
+her the transitoriness of everything earthly and, for the first time in
+her life, looked the last question in the face and read no answer
+save--despair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Help my weakness, oh God!&quot; she pleaded. &quot;Help me upward to Thee. Show
+me the way--send me an angel, or write Thy will on the border of the
+clouds, work a miracle, oh Lord, for a despairing soul!&quot; Thus she
+awaited the announcement of the divine will in flaming characters and
+angel tongues--and did not notice that a poor little banished household
+sprite was standing beside her, gazing beseechingly at her with tearful
+eyes because it had the word which would aid her, the watchword which
+she could find nowhere--only a simple phrase: <i>the fulfillment of
+duty!</i> Yet because it was as simple and unassuming as the genius which
+brought it, it remained unheeded by the proud, vain woman who, in her
+arrogance, spite of the humiliations she had endured, imagined that her
+salvation needed a messenger from Heaven of apocalyptic form and power.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_36" href="#div1Ref_36">CHAPTER XXXVI.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>MEMORIES</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">Amid conflicts such as those just described, the countess
+lived,
+passing from one stage of development to another and unconsciously
+growing older--mentally maturing. Several weeks had now passed since
+her parting with Freyer, but the apathy with which, from that hour, she
+had regarded all external things still remained. She left the duke to
+arrange the affair with the Wildenaus, which, a short time ago, she had
+considered of sufficient importance to sacrifice Freyer. She admired
+the duke's tact and cleverness, but it seemed as if he were not acting
+for her but for some other person.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When he brought the news that the Wildenaus, owing to the obstinacy of
+the witness Martin, had given up their plan of a legal prosecution on
+the ground of Josepha's deposition, and were ready for an amicable
+settlement--she did not rejoice over anything save the old servant's
+fidelity; everything else she accepted as a just recompense of fate in
+return for an <i>unwarrantably</i> high price she had paid.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She was not annoyed because obliged to pay those whom she had injured a
+sum so large as considerably to lessen her income. She did not care for
+the result; her father was now a dying man and the vast sums he had
+used were again at her disposal. After all--what did it matter? If she
+married the duke in a year, she would be obliged to give up the whole
+property! But--need she marry him, if the Wildenaus could prove nothing
+against her? She sank into a dull reverie. But when the duke mentioned
+the cousins' desire for the little hunting-castle, life suddenly woke
+in her again. &quot;Never, never!&quot; she cried, while a burning blush
+crimsoned her face: &quot;Rather all my possessions than that!&quot; A flood of
+tears suddenly dissolved her unnatural torpor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But, dearest Madeleine, you will never live there again!&quot; said the
+duke consolingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No--neither I nor any living mortal will enter it again; but,
+Duke--must I say it? There sleeps my child; there sleeps the dream of
+my heart--it is the mausoleum of my love! No, leave me that--no
+stranger's foot must desecrate it! I will do anything, will give
+the Wildenaus twice, thrice as much; they may choose any of my
+estates--only not that one, and even if I marry you, when I must resign
+everything, I will ask you to buy it from my cousins, and you will not
+refuse my first request?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince gazed at her long and earnestly; for the first time a ray of
+the old love shone in his eyes. &quot;Do you know that I have never seen you
+so beautiful as at this moment? Now your own soul looks out from your
+eyes! Now I absolve you from everything. Forgive me--I was mistaken in
+you, but this impulse teaches me that you are still yourself. It does
+me good!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Duke! There is little merit, when the living was not allowed his
+rightful place--to secure it to the dead!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, it is at least an act of atonement. Madeleine, there cannot be
+more joy in Heaven over the sinner who repents than I felt just now at
+your words. Yes, my poor friend, you shall keep the scene of your
+happiness and your grief untouched--I will assure you of it, and will
+arrange it with the Wildenaus.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Duke! Oh, you are the best, the noblest of men!&quot; she exclaimed,
+smiling through her tears: &quot;Do you know that I love you as I never did
+before? I thought it perfectly natural that you could not love me as
+you saw me during those days. I felt it, though you did not intend to
+let me see it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had not meant to assume it, but these words expressed the charming
+artlessness which had formerly rendered her so irresistible, and the
+longer the duke had missed it, the less he was armed against the spell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Madeleine!&quot; he held out his arms--and she--did she know how it
+happened? Was it gratitude, the wish to make at least <i>one</i> person
+happy? She threw herself on his breast--for the first time he held her
+in his embrace. Surely she was his betrothed bride! But she had not
+thought of what happened now. The duke's lips sought hers--she could
+not resist like a girl of sixteen, he would have considered it foolish
+coquetry. So she was forced to submit.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Honi soit qui mal y pense!</i>&quot; he murmured, kissing her brow, her
+hair--and her lips. But when she felt his lips press hers, it suddenly
+seemed as though some one was saying dose beside her: &quot;<i>You!</i>&quot; It was
+the word Freyer always uttered when he embraced her, as though he knew
+of nothing better or higher than that one word, in which he expressed
+the whole strength of his emotion! &quot;You--you!&quot; echoed constantly in her
+ears with that sweet, wild fervor which seemed to threaten: &quot;the next
+instant you will be consumed in my ardor.&quot; Again he stood before her
+with his dark flaming eyes and the overwhelming earnestness of a mighty
+passion, which shadowed his pale brow as the approaching thunder-storm
+clouded the snow-clad peaks of his mountains. And she compared it with
+the light, easy tenderness, the &quot;<i>honi soi qui mal y pense</i>&quot; of the
+trained squire of dames who was pressing his first kiss upon her
+lips--and she loathed the stranger. She released herself with a sudden
+movement, approached the window and looked out. As she gazed, she
+fancied she saw the dark figure of the deserted one, illumined by the
+crimson glare of the forest conflagration, holding out his hand with a
+divinely royal gesture to raise and shelter her on his breast. Once
+more she beheld him gaze calmly down at the charred timber and heard
+him say smiling: &quot;The wood was mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then--then she beheld in the distant East a sultry room, shaded by gay
+awnings, surrounded by rustling palm-trees, palm-trees, which drew
+their sustenance from the soil on which the Redeemer's blood once
+flowed. He sat beside the bed of the mother of a new-born child,
+whispering sweet, earnest words--and the mother was she herself, the
+babe was his.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then she beheld this same man kneeling by the coffin of a child, the
+rigid, death-white face buried under his raven locks. It was the child
+born on the consecrated soil of the burning East, which she had left to
+pine in the cold breath of the Western winter. She withdrew from it the
+mother-heart, in which the tender plant of the South might have gained
+warmth. She had left that father's child to die.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yet he did not complain; uttered no reproach--he remained silent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She saw him become more and more solitary and silent. The manly beauty
+wasted, his strength failed--at last she saw him noiselessly cross
+the carpeted floor of this very room and close the door behind him
+never to return! No, no, it could not be--all that had happened was
+false--nothing was true save that he was the father of her child, her
+husband, and no one else could ever be that, even though she was
+separated from him for ever.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Duke!&quot; she cried, imploringly. &quot;Leave me to myself. I do not
+understand my own feelings--I feel as if arraigned before the judgment
+seat of God. Let me take counsel with my own heart--forgive me I am a
+variable, capricious woman--one mood to-day and another to-morrow; have
+patience with me, I entreat you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke looked gravely at her, and answered, nodding: &quot;I
+understand--or rather--I am afraid to understand!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Duke, I am not suited to marry. Let the elderly woman go her way
+alone--I believe I can never again be happy. I long only for rest and
+solitude.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You need rest and composure. I will give you time and wait your
+decision, which can now be absolutely untrammelled, since your business
+affairs are settled and the peril is over.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not be angry with me, Duke--and do not misunderstand me--oh
+Heaven--you might think that I had only given my promise in the dread
+of poverty and disgrace and now that the peril was past, repented.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke hesitated a moment. Then he said in a low, firm tone: &quot;Surely
+you know that I am the man of sober reason, who is surprised by
+nothing. '<i>Tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner</i>.' So act without
+regard to me, as your own feeling dictates.&quot; He held out his hand:
+&quot;There was a time when I seriously believed that we might be happy
+together. That is now past--you will destroy no illusion, if you assert
+the contrary.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps not even a sincere desire of the heart?&quot; replied the countess,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The duke became deeply earnest. &quot;That suggestion is out of place
+here.--Am I to wound you from gallantry and increase the measure of
+your self-reproaches by showing you that I suffer? Or tell a falsehood
+to lessen your responsibility? We will let all that rest. If you want
+me, send for me. Meanwhile, as your faithful attorney, I will arrange
+the matter of the hunting castle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Duke--how petty I am in your presence--how noble you are!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is saying far too much, Countess! I am content, if you can bear
+me witness that at least I have not made myself ridiculous.&quot; He left
+the room--cold, courteous, stoical as ever!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau hurried to the window and flung it open. &quot;Pour
+in, light and air, mighty consolers--ah, now I breathe, I live again!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Once more she could freely show her face, had no occasion to conceal
+herself. The danger of a &quot;scandal&quot; was over, thanks to the lack of
+proof. She need no longer shun the Wildenaus--old Martin was faithful
+and her husband, the most dangerous witness, had gone, disappeared. Now
+she had nothing more to dread; she was free, mistress of her fortune,
+mistress of her will, she breathed once more as if new-born.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Liberty, yes, <i>this</i> was happiness. She believed that she had found it
+at last! And she would enjoy it. She need not reproach herself for
+breaking her troth to the prince, he had told her so--if thereby she
+could appease the avenging spirits of her deed to Freyer, they must
+have the sacrifice! True, to be reigning duchess of a country was a
+lofty position; but--could she purchase it at the cost of being the
+wife of a man whom she did not love? Why not? Was she a child?--a
+foolish girl? A crown was at stake--and should she allow sentimental
+scruples to force her to sacrifice it to the memory of an irrevocably
+lost happiness?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She shook her head, as if she wanted to shake off a bandage. She was
+ill from the long days spent in darkness and confinement like a
+criminal. That was the cause of these whims. Up and out into the open
+air, where she would again find healthy blood and healthy thoughts.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She rang the bell, a new servant appeared.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My arrival can now be announced. Tell Martin to bring the carriage
+round, I will go to drive.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, Your Highness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She seemed to have escaped from a ban. She had never known liberty.
+Until she married the Count von Wildenau she had been under the control
+of a governess. Then, in her marriage with the self-willed old man she
+was a slave, and she had scarcely been a widow ere she forged new
+fetters for herself. Now, for the first time, she could taste liberty.
+The decision was not pressing. The cool stoic who had waited so long
+would not lose patience at the last moment--so she could still do what
+she would.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So the heart, struggling against the unloved husband, deceived the
+ambitious, calculating reason which aspired to a crown.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The carriage drove up. It was delightful to hear a pair of spirited
+horses stamping before a handsome equipage, to be assisted to enter by
+a liveried servant and to be able to say: &quot;This is yours once more!&quot;
+The only shadow which disturbed her was that on Martin's face, a shadow
+resting there since she had last visited her castle of the Sleeping
+Beauty. She well knew for whom the old man was grieving. It was a
+perpetual reproach and she avoided talking with him, from a certain
+sense of diffidence. She could justify herself to the keen intelligence
+of the duke--to the simplicity of this plain man she could not; she
+felt it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was a delightful May evening. A sea of warm air and spring perfumes
+surrounded her, and crowds thronged the streets, enjoying the evening,
+after their toilsome work, as if they had just waked from their winter
+sleep. On the corners groups paused before huge placards which they
+eagerly studied, one pushing another away. What could it be?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then old Martin, as if intentionally, drove close to the sidewalk,
+where the people stood in line out to the street before those posters.
+There was a little movement in the throng; people turned to look at the
+splendid equipage, thus leaving the placard exposed. The countess read
+it--the blood congealed in her veins--there, in large letters, stood
+the words: &quot;Oberammergau Passion Play.&quot; What did it mean? She leaned
+back in the carriage, feeling as if she must shriek aloud with
+homesickness, with agonized longing for those vanished days of a great
+blissful delusion! Again she beheld the marvellous play. Again the
+divine sufferer appeared to the world--the mere name on that wretched
+placard was already exerting its spell, for the pedestrians, pausing on
+their errands, stopped before it by hundreds, as if they had never read
+the words &quot;Passion Play&quot; before! And the man who helped create this
+miracle, to which a world was again devoutly pilgrimaging, had been
+clasped in her arms--had loved her, been loyally devoted to her, to her
+alone, and she had disdained him! Now he was again bringing the
+salvation of the divine word and miracle--she alone was shut out, she
+had forfeited it by her own fault. She was--as in his wonderful gift of
+divination he had once said--one of the foolish virgins who had burned
+her oil, and now the heavenly bridegroom was coming, but she stood
+alone in the darkness while the others were revelling at the banquet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The rattle of wheels and the trampling of the crowds about her were
+deafening, and it was fortunate, for, in the confused uproar, the cry
+which escaped the tortured heart of the proud lady in the coroneted
+carriage died away unheard. Lilacs and roses--why do you send forth so
+intoxicating a fragrance, why do you still bloom? Can you have the
+heart to smile at a world in which there is such anguish? But lilacs,
+roses, and a beautiful May-sun laughed on, the world was devoutly
+preparing for the great pilgrimage to Oberammergau. She only was
+exiled, and returned to her stone palace, alone, hopeless--with
+infinite desolation in her heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A note from the duke awaited her. He took his leave for a few weeks, in
+order to give her time to understand her own heart clearly. Now she was
+utterly alone.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_37" href="#div1Ref_37">CHAPTER XXXVII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>THE MEASURE IS FULL</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">From that day the countess showed an unwonted degree of
+interest in the
+newspapers. The first question when she waked in the morning was for
+the papers. But the maid noticed that she opened only the pages
+containing the reports from Oberammergau.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your Highness seems to be very much interested in the Passion Play,&quot;
+the woman ventured to remark.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess blushed, and her &quot;yes&quot; was so curt and repellent that the
+maid was alarmed at her own presumption.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One thing, however, was certain--her mistress, after reading these
+reports, always looked pale and worn.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And in truth the unhappy woman, while reading the descriptions of this
+year's performances, felt as if she were drinking a cup of wormwood
+drop by drop. Freyer's name was echoing throughout the world. Not only
+did the daily press occupy itself with him--but grave men, æsthetes of
+high rank, found his acting so interesting that they wrote pamphlets
+about it and made it the subject of scientific treatises. The countess
+read them all. Freyer was described as the type in which art, nature,
+and religion joined hands in the utmost harmony! &quot;As he himself stands
+above the laws of theatrical routine, he raises us far above what we
+term stage effect, as it were into a loftier sphere. He does not
+act--he is the Christ! The power of his glance, the spirituality of the
+whole figure, and an indefinable spell of the noblest sorrow which
+pervades his whole person, are things which cannot be counterfeited,
+which are no play, but truth. We believe what he says, because we feel
+that this man's soul does not belong to this world, that its own
+individual life has entered into his part. Because he thinks, feels,
+and lives not as Joseph Freyer, but as the Christus--is the source of
+the impression which borders upon the supernatural.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine von Wildenau had just read these words, which cut her to the
+heart. Ah, when strangers--critics--men said such things--surely she
+had no cause to be ashamed. Who would reproach her, a weak,
+enthusiastic woman, for yielding to this spell? Surely no one--rather
+she would be blamed for not having arrested the charm, for having, with
+a profane hand, destroyed the marvel that approached her, favoring her
+above the thousands who gazed at it in devout reverence!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She leaned her head on her hand and gazed mournfully out of the window
+at which she sat. They had now been playing six weeks in Oberammergau.
+It was June. The gardens of the opposite palace were in their fullest
+leafage; and the birds singing in the trees lured her out. Her eyes
+followed a little swallow flying toward the mountains. &quot;Oh, mountain
+air and blue gentians--earthly Paradise!&quot; she sighed! What was she
+doing here in the hot city when all were flying to the mountains, she
+saw no society, and the duke had gone away. She, too, ought to have
+left long before. But where should she go? She could not visit
+Oberammergau, and she cared for no other spot--it seemed as though the
+whole world contained no other place of abode than this one village
+with its gay little houses and low windows--as if in all the world
+there were no mountains, and no mountain air save in Ammergau. A few
+burning tears ran down her cheeks. Doubtless there was mountain air,
+there were mountain peaks higher, more beautiful than in Ammergau, but
+nowhere else could be found the same capacity for enjoying the
+magnificence of nature! Everywhere there is a church, a religion, but
+nowhere so religious an atmosphere as there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, my lost Paradise, my soul greets you with all the anguish of the
+exiled mother of my sex and my sin!&quot; she sighed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And yet, what was Eve's sin to hers? Eve at least atoned in love and
+faith with the man whom she tempted to sin. Therefore God could forgive
+her and send to the race which sprung from her fall a messenger of
+reconciliation. Eve was a wife and a mother. But she, what was she? Not
+even that! She had abandoned her husband and lived in splendor and
+luxury while he grieved alone. She had given him only one child, and
+even to that had acted no mother's part, and finally had thrust him out
+into poverty and sorrow, and led a life of wealth and leisure, while he
+earned his bread by the sweat of his brow. No, the mother of sin was a
+martyr compared to her, a martyr to the nature which <i>she</i> denied, and
+therefore she was shut out from the bond of peace and pity which Eve's
+atonement secured.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some one knocked. The countess started from her reverie. The servant
+announced that His Highness' nurses had sent for her; they thought
+death was near.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will come at once!&quot; she answered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The prince lived near the Wildenau Palace, and she reached him in a few
+minutes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sick man's mind was clearer than it had been for several months.
+The watery effusions in the brain which had clouded his consciousness
+had been temporarily absorbed, and he could control his thoughts. For
+the first time he held out his hand to his daughter: &quot;Are you there, my
+child?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It touched her strangely, and she knelt by his side. &quot;Yes, father!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He stroked her hair with a kindly, though dull expression: &quot;Are you
+well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In body, yes papa! I thank you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you happy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, who had never in her life perceived any token of paternal
+affection in his manner, was deeply moved by this first sign of
+affection in the hour of parting. She strove to find some soothing
+reply which would not be false and yet satisfy his feeble reasoning
+powers; but he had again forgotten the question.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you married?&quot; he asked again, as if he had been absent a long
+time, and saw his daughter to-day for the first time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The nurses withdrew into the next room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The father and daughter were alone. Meantime his memory seemed to be
+following some clue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where is your husband?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Which one?&quot; asked the countess, greatly agitated. &quot;Wildenau?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, no--the--the other one; let him come!&quot; He put out his hand
+gropingly, as if he expected some one to clasp it: &quot;Say farewell--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Father,&quot; sobbed the countess, laying the seeking hand gently back on
+the coverlet. &quot;He cannot bid you farewell, he is not here!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why not? I should have been glad to see him--son-in-law--grandson--no
+one here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Father--poor father!&quot; The countess could say no mare. Laying her head
+on the side of her father's bed, she wept bitterly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hm, hm!&quot; murmured the invalid, and a glance of intelligence suddenly
+flashed from his dull eyes at his daughter. &quot;My child, are you
+weeping?&quot; He reflected a short time, then his mind seemed to grow clear
+again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes. No one must know! Foolish weaknesses! Tell him I sincerely
+ask his pardon; he must forgive me. Prejudiced, old--! I am very sorry.
+Can't you send for him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, papa, I would gladly bring him, but it is too late--he has gone
+away!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! then I shall not see him again. I am near my end.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess could not speak, but pressed her lips to her father's cold
+hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't grieve; you will lose nothing in me; be happy. I spent a great
+deal of money for you--women, gaming, dinners, what value are they
+all?&quot; He made a gesture of loathing: &quot;What are they now?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A chill ran through his veins, and his breath grew short and labored.
+&quot;I'm curious to see how it looks up there!&quot; He pondered for a time. &quot;If
+you knew of any sensible pastor, you might send for him; such men often
+<i>do</i> know something.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, father!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess hurried into the next room and ordered a priest to be sent
+for to give extreme unction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You wish to confess and take the communion too, do you not, papa?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why yes; one doesn't wish to take the old rubbish when starting on the
+great journey. We don't carry our soiled linen with us when we travel.
+I have much on my conscience, Magdalena--my child--most of all, sins
+committed against you! Don't bear your foolish old father ill-will for
+it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, father, I swear it by the memory of this hour!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And your husband&quot;--he shook his head--&quot;he is not here; it's a pity!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he said no more but lay quietly, absorbed in his own thoughts,
+till the priest came.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Madeleine withdrew during the confession. What was passing in her mind
+during that hour she herself could not understand. She only knew that
+her father's inquiry in his dying hour for his despised, disowned
+son-in-law was the keenest reproach which had been addressed to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sacred ceremony was over, and the priest had left the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sick man lay with a calm, pleasant expression on his face, which
+had never rested there before. Madeleine sat down by the bed and took
+his hand; he gratefully returned her gentle pressure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How do you feel, dear father?&quot; she asked gently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very comfortable, dear child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you made your peace with God?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I hope so, my child! So far as He will be gracious to an old sinner
+like me.&quot; He raised his eyes with an earnest, trustful look, then a
+long--agonizing death struggle came on. But he held his daughter's hand
+firmly in his own, and she spent the whole night at his bedside without
+stirring, resolute and faithful--the first fulfillment of duty in her
+whole life.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The struggle continued until the next noon ere the daughter could close
+her father's eyes. A number of pressing business matters were now to be
+arranged, which detained her in the house of mourning until the
+evening, and made her sorely miss her thoughtful friend, the duke. At
+last, at nine o'clock, she returned to her palace, wearied almost unto
+death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The footman handed her a card: &quot;The gentleman has been here twice
+to-day and wished to see Your Highness on very urgent business. He was
+going to leave by the last train, but decided to stay in order to see
+you. He will try again after nine o'clock--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess carried the card to the gas jet and read: &quot;Ludwig Gross,
+drawing-teacher.&quot; Her hand trembled so violently that she almost
+dropped it. &quot;When the gentleman comes, admit him!&quot; She was obliged to
+cling to the balustrade as she went upstairs, she was so giddy.
+Scarcely had she reached her boudoir when she heard the lower bell
+ring--then footsteps, a familiar voice--some one knocked as he had done
+ten years ago in the Gross House; but the man whom he then brought,
+nothing would ever bring again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She did not speak, her voice failed, but she opened the door
+herself--Ludwig Gross stood before her. Both gazed at each other a long
+time in silence. Both were struggling for composure and for words, and
+from the cheeks of both every drop of blood had vanished. The countess
+held out her hand, but he did not seem to see it. She pointed to a
+chair, and said in a hollow tone: &quot;Sit down,&quot; at the same time sinking
+upon a divan opposite.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will not disturb you long, Your Highness!&quot; Ludwig answered, seating
+himself a long distance off.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you disturbed me, I should not have received you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig felt the reproof conveyed in the words for the hostility of his
+manner, but he could not help it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps Your Highness remembers a certain Freyer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Herr Gross, that question is an insult, but I admit that, from your
+standpoint, you have a right to ask it. At any rate, Freyer did not
+commission you to do so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, Countess, for he does not know that I am here; if he did, he would
+have prevented it. I beg your pardon, if I perform my mission somewhat
+clumsily! I know it is unseemly to meddle with relations of which one
+is ignorant, for Freyer's reserve allowed me no insight into these. But
+here there is danger in delay, and where a human life is at stake,
+every other consideration must be silent. I have never been able to
+learn any particulars from Freyer. I only know that he was away nine
+years, as it was rumored, with you, and that he returned a beggar!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That, Herr Gross, is no fault of mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not that, Countess, but it must be <i>your</i> fault alone which has caused
+relations so unnatural that Freyer was ashamed to accept from you even
+the well-earned payment for his labor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are right there, Herr Gross.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And that would be the least, Countess, but he has returned, not only a
+beggar, but a lost man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ludwig!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Countess. That is the reason I determined, after consulting with
+the burgomaster, to come here and talk with you, if you will allow it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Speak, for Heaven's sake; what has befallen him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer is ill, Countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But, how can that be? He is acting the Christus every week and
+delighting the world?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, that is just it! He acts, as a candle burns down while it
+shines--it is no longer the phosphorescence of genius, it is a light
+which feeds on his own life and consumes it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Merciful God!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And he <i>wishes</i> to die--that is unmistakable--that is why it is so
+hard to aid him. He will heed no counsel, follow no advice of the
+physician, do nothing which might benefit him. Now matters have gone so
+far that the doctor told us yesterday he might fall dead upon the stage
+at any hour--and we ought not to allow him to go on playing! But he
+cannot be prevented. He desires nothing more than death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is the matter?&quot; asked the pale lips of the countess.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A severe case of heart disease, Countess, which might be arrested for
+several years by means of careful nursing, perfect rest, and
+strengthening food; but he has no means to obtain the better
+nourishment his condition requires, because he is too proud to be a
+burden on any one, and he lacks the ease of mind necessary to relieve
+his heart. Nursing is out of the question--he occupies, having given
+his own home to the poor when he left Ammergau, as you know, a
+miserable, damp room in a wretched tavern, just outside the village,
+and wanders about the mountains day and night. Of course speedy death
+is inevitable--hastened, moreover, by the exertions demanded by his
+part.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross rose. &quot;I do not know how you estimate the value of a poor
+man's life, Countess,&quot; he said bitterly--&quot;I have merely done my duty by
+informing you of my friend's condition. The rest I must leave to you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Great Heaven! What shall I do! He rejects everything I offer. Perhaps
+you do not know that I gave him a fortune and he refused it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ludwig Gross fixed an annihilating glance upon her. &quot;If you know no
+other way of rendering aid here save by <i>money</i>--I have nothing more to
+say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He bowed slightly and left the room without waiting for an answer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ludwig!&quot; she called: &quot;Hear me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had gone--he was right--did she deserve anything better? No--no! She
+stood in the middle of the room a moment as if dazed. Her heart
+throbbed almost to bursting. &quot;Has it gone so far! I have left the man
+from whose lips I drew the last breath of life to starve and languish.
+I allowed the heart on which I have so often rested to pine within
+dark, gloomy walls, bleed and break in silent suffering. Murderess, did
+you hear it? He is lost, through your sin! Oh, God, where is the crime
+which I have not committed--where is there a more miserable creature? I
+have murdered the most innocent, misunderstood the noblest, repulsed
+the most faithful, abused the most sacred, and for what?&quot; She sank
+prostrate. The measure was full--was running over.--The angel with the
+cup of wormwood had overtaken her, as Freyer had prophesied and was
+holding to her lips the bitter chalice of her own guilt, which she must
+drain, drop by drop. But now this guilt had matured, grown to its full
+size, and stood before her, grinning at her with the jeer of madness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wings--oh, God, lend me wings! While I am doubting and despairing
+here--it may be too late--the terrible thing may have happened--he may
+have died, unreconciled, with the awful reproach in his heart! Wings,
+wings, oh God!&quot; She started up and flew to the bell with the speed of
+thought. &quot;Send for the head-groom at once!&quot; Then she hurried into the
+chamber, where the maid was arranging her garments for the night. &quot;Pack
+as quickly as possible whatever I shall need for a journey of two or
+three days--or weeks--I don't know myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Evening or street costumes?&quot; asked the maid, startled by her mistress'
+appearance. &quot;Street dresses!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Meantime the head-groom had come. She hastened into the boudoir: &quot;Have
+relays of horses saddled and sent forward at once--it is after ten
+o'clock--there is no train to Weilheim--but I must reach Oberammergau
+to-night! Martin is to drive, send on four relays--I will give you four
+hours start--the men must be off within ten minutes--I will go at two
+o'clock--I shall arrive there at seven.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your Excellency, that is scarcely possible&quot;--the man ventured to say.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did not ask whether it was possible--I told you that it <i>must</i> be
+done, if it kills all my horses. Quick, rouse the whole stable--every
+one must help. I shall wait at the window until I see the men ride
+away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man bowed silently, he knew that opposition was futile, but he
+muttered under his breath: &quot;To ruin six of her best horses in one
+night--just for the sake of that man in Ammergau, she ought to be put
+under guardianship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The courtyard was instantly astir, men were shouting and running to and
+fro. The stable-doors were thrown open, lanterns flashed hither and
+thither, the trampling and neighing of horses were heard, the noise and
+haste seemed as if the wild huntsman was setting off on his terrible
+ride through the starless night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess stood, watch in hand, at the lighted window, and the
+figure of their mistress above spurred every one to the utmost haste.
+In a few minutes the horses for the relays were saddled and the grooms
+rode out of the courtyard.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The victoria with the pair of blacks must be ready at two,&quot; the
+head-groom said to old Martin. &quot;You must keep a sharp look-out--I don't
+see how you will manage--those fiery creatures in that light carriage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess heard it at the window, but she paid no heed. If only she
+could fly there with the light carriage, the fiery horses, as her heart
+desired. Forward--was her only thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Must I go, too?&quot; asked the maid, pale with fright.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I shall need no one.&quot; The countess now shut the windows and went
+to her writing-desk, for there was much to be done within the few short
+hours. Her father's funeral--sending the announcements--all these
+things must now be entrusted to others and a representative must be
+found among the relatives to fill her own place. She assigned as a
+pretext the necessity of taking a short journey for a day or two,
+adding that she did not yet know whether she could return in time for
+the funeral of the prince. Her pen fairly flew over the paper, and she
+finally wrote a brief note to the duke, in which she told him nothing
+except her father's death. The four hours slipped rapidly away, and as
+the clock struck two the victoria drove to the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess was already standing there. The lamps at the entrance
+shone brightly, but even brighter was old Martin's face, as he curbed
+the spirited animals with a firm hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To Ammergau, Martin!&quot; said the countess significantly, as she entered
+the equipage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hi! But I'll drive now!&quot; cried the old man, joyously, not suspecting
+the sorrowful state of affairs, and off dashed the steeds as though
+spurred by their mistress' fears--while guilt and remorse accompanied
+her with the heavy flight of destiny.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_38" href="#div1Ref_38">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>ON THE WAY TO THE CROSS</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">It was Sunday. Again the throngs surged around the Passion
+Theatre,
+more devout, more numerous than ever.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Slowly, as if his feet could scarcely support him, a tall figure,
+strangely like one who no longer belongs to the number of the living,
+tottered through the crowd to the door of the dressing-room, while all
+reverently made way for him, yet every one perceived that it must be
+the Christus! Whoever met his eye shuddered as if the incarnation of
+woe had passed, as if he had seen the face of the god of sorrow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Eight o'clock had struck, the cannon had announced the commencement of
+the play, the waiting throng pressed in, crowding each other, and the
+doors were closed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Outside of the theatre it was silent and empty. The carriages had
+driven away. The people who could get no tickets had dispersed. Only
+the venders of photographs and eatables still sat in their booths,
+listening idly and sleepily to the notes of the music, which came in
+subdued tones through the board partition.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Suddenly the ground trembled slightly under the wheels of a carriage
+driven at furious speed. A pair of horses covered with foam appeared in
+the distance--in a few seconds a dusty victoria stopped before the
+Passion Theatre.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;St, st!&quot; said one of the box-tenders, appearing at the top of the
+stairs and hurrying down to prevent farther disturbance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can I get a ticket?&quot; asked the lady in the carriage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am very sorry--but unfortunately every seat is filled.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Heaven! I lost an hour--one of the horses met with an accident, I
+have driven all night--I beg you--I <i>must</i> get in!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The box-tender shrugged his shoulders. &quot;Unfortunately it is
+impossible!&quot; he said with an offensively lofty manner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am not accustomed to find anything which I desire impossible, so far
+as it depends upon human beings to fulfill it,&quot; she answered haughtily.
+&quot;I will pay any price, no matter whether it is a thousand marks, more
+or less--if you will get me even the poorest seat within the walls.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is not a question of price!&quot; was the smiling answer. &quot;If we had the
+smallest space, we could have disposed of it a hundred times over
+to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then take me on the stage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, it is no use to speak of that--no matter who might come--no one is
+allowed there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then announce me to the burgomaster--I will give you my card.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am very sorry, but I have no admittance to the stage during the
+performance. In the long intermission at twelve o'clock you might be
+announced, but not before.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess' heart throbbed faster and faster. She could hear the
+notes of the music, she fancied she could distinguish the different
+voices, yet she was not permitted to enter. Now came the shouts of
+&quot;Hosanna!&quot;--yes, distinctly--that was the entry into Jerusalem, those
+were the exulting throngs who attended him. If she could only look
+through a chink--! Now, now it was still--then a voice--oh! she would
+recognize those tones among thousands. A draught of air bore them to
+her through the cracks in the walls. Yes, that was he; a tremor ran
+through every limb--he was speaking.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The world hung on his lips, joy was in every eye, comfort in every
+heart--within was salvation and she must stand without and could not go
+to her own husband. But he was not her husband, that had been her own
+wish. Now it was granted!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The &quot;foolish virgin&quot; outside the door burst into tears like a child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man who had just refused her request so coldly, pitied her: &quot;If I
+only knew how to help you, I would do so gladly,&quot; he said thoughtfully.
+&quot;I'll tell you! If it is so important come during the intermission, but
+on <i>foot</i>, without attracting attention, to the rear entrance of the
+stage--then I'll try to smuggle you in, even if it is only into the
+passage for the chorus!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, sir, I thank you!&quot; said the countess with the look which a lost
+soul might give to the angel who opened the gates of Paradise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will be there punctually at twelve. Don't you think I might speak to
+Herr Freyer during the intermission?&quot; she asked timidly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A smile of sorrowful pity flitted over the man's face. &quot;Oh, he speaks
+to no one. We are rejoiced every time that he is able to get through
+the performance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Alas! is he so ill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; replied the man in a tone very low as if he feared the very air
+might hear, &quot;very ill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he went up the stairs again to his post.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where shall we drive now?&quot; asked Martin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess was obliged to reflect a short time ere she answered. &quot;I
+think it would be best--to try to find a lodging somewhere--&quot; she said
+hesitatingly, still listening to the sounds from the theatre to learn
+what was passing within, what scene they were playing--who was
+speaking? &quot;Drive slowly, Martin--&quot; she begged. She was in no hurry now:
+&quot;Stop!&quot; she called as Martin started; she had just heard a voice that
+sounded like <i>his</i>! Martin made the horses move very slowly as he drove
+on. Thus, at the most tardy pace, they passed around the Passion
+Theatre and then in the opposite direction toward the village. At the
+exit from the square an official notification was posted: &quot;No Monday
+performances will be given hereafter; Herr Freyer's health will not
+permit him to play two days in succession.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess pressed her clasped hands upon her quivering heart. &quot;Bear
+it--it must be borne--it is your own fault, now suffer!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A stranger in a private carriage, who was looking for lodgings on the
+day everybody else was going away, was a welcome apparition in the
+village. At every house to which she drove the occupants who remained
+in it hastened to welcome her, but none of the rooms pleased her. For a
+moment she thought of going to the drawing-master's, but there also the
+quarters were too low and narrow--and she could not deceive herself,
+the tie between her and Ludwig Gross was sundered--he could not forgive
+what she had done to his friend; she avoided him as though he were her
+judge. And besides--she wanted quiet rooms, where an invalid could
+rest, and these were not easy to find now.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last she discovered them. A plain house, surrounded by foliage, in a
+secluded street, which had only two rooms on the ground floor, where
+they could live wholly unseen and unheard. They were plain apartments,
+but the ceilings were not too low, and the sunbeams shone through the
+chinks of the green shutters with a warm, yet subdued light. A
+peaceful, cheerful shelter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She hired them for an indefinite time, and quickly made an agreement
+with the elderly woman to whom they belonged. There was a little
+kitchen also, and the woman was willing to do the cooking. So for the
+next few days at least she had a comfortable home, and now would to
+Heaven that she might not occupy it in despair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, now Your Highness is nicely settled,&quot; said old Martin, when the
+housewife opened the shutters, and he glanced down from his box into
+the pretty room: &quot;I should like such a little home myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess ordered the luggage to be brought in.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where shall I put up, Your Highness?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go to the old post-house, Martin!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Shan't I take you to the Passion Theatre?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, you heard that I must walk there.&quot; Martin shook his head--this
+seemed to him almost too humiliating to his proud mistress. But he did
+not venture to make any comment, and drove off, pondering over his own
+thoughts.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was nine o'clock. Three hours before the long intermission. What
+might not happen during that time? Could she wait, would not anxiety
+kill her or rob her of her senses? But nothing could be done, she
+<i>must</i> wait. She could not hasten the hour on which depended life and
+death, deliverance or doom.--The nocturnal ride, the fright occasioned
+by the fiery horses which had upset the carriage and forced her to walk
+to the next relay and thus lose a precious hour, her agitation beside
+her father's sick bed, now asserted themselves, and she lay down on one
+of the neat white beds in the room and used the time to rest and
+recover her strength a little. She was only a feeble woman, and the
+valiant spirit which had so long created its own law and battled for
+it, was too powerful for a woman's feeble frame. It was fortunate that
+she was compelled to take this rest, or she would have succumbed. A
+restless slumber took possession of her at intervals, from which she
+started to look at the clock and mournfully convince herself that not
+more than five minutes had elapsed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The old woman brought in a cup of coffee, which she pressed upon her.
+No food had passed her lips since the day before, and the warm drink
+somewhat revived her. But the rapid throbbing of her heart soon
+prevented her remaining in bed, and rising, she busied herself a little
+in unpacking--the first time in her life that she had ever performed
+such work. She remembered how she had wept ten years ago in the Gross
+house, because she was left without a maid.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last the time of torture was over. The clock struck quarter to
+twelve. She put on her hat, though it was still far too early, but she
+could not bear to stay in the room. She wished at least to be near the
+theatre. When she reached the door her breath failed, and she was
+obliged to stop and calm herself. Then, summoning all her courage, she
+raised her eyes to Heaven, and murmuring: &quot;In God's name,&quot; went to meet
+the terrible uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now she repented that she did not use the carriage--she could scarcely
+move. It seemed at every step as if she were sinking into the earth
+instead of advancing, as if she should never reach the goal, as if the
+road stretched longer and longer before her. A burning noonday sun
+blazed down upon her head, the perspiration stood on her forehead
+and her lips were parched, her feet were swollen and lame from the
+night-watch at her father's bedside and the exhausting journey which
+had followed it. At last, with much effort she reached the theatre. The
+first part of the performance was just over--throngs of people were
+pouring out of the sultry atmosphere into the open air and hurrying to
+get their dinners. But every face wore a look of the deepest emotion
+and sorrow--on every lip was the one word: &quot;Freyer!&quot; The countess stole
+through the throngs like a criminal, holding her sunshade lower and
+drawing her veil more closely over her face. Only let her escape
+recognition now, avoid meeting any one who would speak to her--this was
+her mortal dread. If she could only render herself invisible! With the
+utmost exertion she forced her way through, and now she could at least
+take breath after the stifling pressure. But everything around her
+was now so bare, she was so exposed as she crossed the broad open
+space--she felt as though she were the target for every curious eye
+among the spectators. She clenched her teeth in her embarrassment--it
+was fairly running the gauntlet. She could no longer think or feel
+anything except a desire that the earth would swallow her. At last,
+tottering, trembling, almost overcome by heat and haste, she reached
+the welcome shade on the northern side of the theatre and stopped, this
+was her goal. Leaning against the wall, she half concealed herself
+behind a post at the door. Women carrying baskets passed her; they were
+admitted because they were bringing their husbands' food. They glanced
+curiously at the dusty stranger leaning wearily behind the door. &quot;Who
+can she be? Somebody who isn't quite right, that's certain!&quot; The
+tortured woman read this query on every face. Here, too, she was in a
+pillory. Oh, power and rank--before the wooden fence surrounding the
+great drama of Christian thought, you crumble and are nothing save what
+you are in and through love!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Countess Wildenau waited humbly at the door of the Passion Theatre
+until the compassionate box-opener should come to admit her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How long she stood there she did not know. Burning drops fell from brow
+and eyes, but she endured it like a suffering penitent. This was <i>her</i>
+way to the cross.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The clock struck one. The flood was surging back from the village: &quot;Oh,
+God, save me!&quot; she prayed, trembling; her agony had reached its height.
+But now the man could not come until everyone was seated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And Freyer, what was he doing in his dressing-room, which she knew he
+never left during an intermission? Was he resting or eating some
+strengthening food? Probably one of the women who passed had taken him
+something? She envied the poor women with their baskets because they
+were permitted to do their duty.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then--she scarcely dared to believe it--the box-opener came running
+out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I've kept you waiting a long time, haven't I? But every one has had
+his hands full. Now come quick!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He slipped stealthily forward, beckoning to her to follow, and led her
+through by-ways and dark corners, often concealing her with his own
+person when anyone approached. The signal for raising the curtain was
+given just as they reached a hidden corner in the proscenium, where the
+chorus entered. &quot;Sit down there on the stool,&quot; he whispered. &quot;You can't
+see much, it is true, but you can hear everything. It's not a good
+place, yet it's better than nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly!&quot; replied the countess, breathlessly; she could not see,
+coming from the bright sunshine into the dusky space; she sank half
+fainting on the stool to which he pointed; she was on the stage of the
+Passion, near Freyer! True, she said to herself, that he must not be
+permitted to suspect it, lest he should be unable to finish his task;
+but at least she was near him--her fate was approaching its
+fulfillment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have done me a priceless service; I thank you.&quot; She pressed a bank
+note into the man's hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, no; I did it gladly,&quot; he answered, noiselessly retreating.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The exhausted woman closed her eyes and rested a few minutes from the
+torture she had endured. The chorus entered, and opened the drama
+again, a tableau followed, then the High Priest and Annas appeared in
+the balcony of his house, Judas soon entered, but everything passed
+before her like a dream. She could not see what was occurring on her
+side of the stage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thus lost in thought, she leaned back in her dark corner, forgetting
+the present in what the next hours would bring, failing to hear even
+the hosannas. But now a voice startled her from her torpor.--&quot;I
+spake openly to the world; I ever taught in the synagogue and in the
+temple--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Merciful Heaven, it was he! She could not see him, the side scenes
+concealed him; but what a feeling! His voice, which had so often
+spoken to her words of love, entreaty, warning, lastly of wrath and
+despair--without heed from her, without waking an echo in her cold
+heart, now pealed like an angel's message into the dark corner
+where she sat concealed like a lost soul that had forfeited the sight
+of the Redeemer! She listened eagerly to the marvellous tones of the
+words no longer addressed to her while the speaker's face remained
+concealed--the face on which, in mortal dread, she might have read the
+runes engraved by pain, and learned whether they meant life or death?
+And yet, at least she was near him; so near that she thought he must
+hear the throbbing of her own heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Bear patiently; do not disturb him in his sacred fulfillment of duty.
+It will soon be over!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The play seemed endlessly long to her impatient heart. Christ was
+dragged from trial to trial. The mockery, the scourging, the
+condemnation--the tortured woman shared them all with him as she had
+done the first time, but to-day it was like a blind person. She had not
+yet succeeded in seeing him, he always stood so that she could never
+catch a glimpse of his face. Would he hold out? She fancied that his
+voice grew weaker hour by hour. And she dared not tend him, dared not
+offer him any strengthening drink, dared not wipe the moisture from his
+brow. She heard the audience weeping and sobbing--the scene of bearing
+the cross was at hand!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sky had darkened, and heavy sultry clouds hung low, forming natural
+soffits to the open front stage, as if Heaven desired to conceal it
+from the curious gods, that they might not see what was passing to-day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mary and John--the women of Jerusalem and Simon of Cyrene assembled,
+waiting in anxious suspense for the coming of the Christ. Anastasia was
+again personating Mary, the countess instantly recognized her pure,
+clear tones, and the meeting in the fields ten years before came back
+to her mind--not without a throb of jealous emotion. Now a movement
+among the audience announced the approach of the procession--of the
+cross! This time the actors came from the opposite direction and upon
+the front stage. Every vein in her body was throbbing, her brain
+whirled, she struggled to maintain her composure; at last she was to
+see him for the first time!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is he, oh God!--it is my son!&quot; cried Mary. Christ stepped upon the
+stage, laden with the cross. It was acting no longer, it was reality.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His feet could scarcely support him under the burden, panting for
+breath, he dragged himself to the proscenium. The countess uttered a
+low cry of alarm; she fancied that she was looking into the eyes of a
+dying man, so ghastly was his appearance. But he had heard the
+exclamation and, raising his head, looked at her, his emaciated face
+quivered--he tottered, fell--he <i>was obliged</i> to fall; it was in his
+part.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess shuddered--it was too natural!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He can go no farther,&quot; said the executioner. &quot;Here, strengthen
+yourself.&quot; The captain handed him the flask, but he did not take it.
+&quot;You won't drink? Then drive him forward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The executioners shook him roughly, but Freyer did not stir--he <i>ought</i>
+not to move yet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Simon of Cyrene took the cross on his shoulders, and now the
+Christ should have risen, but he still lay prostrate. The cue was
+given--repeated--a pause followed--a few of the calmer ones began to
+improvise, the man who was personating; the executioner stooped and
+shook him, another tried to raise him--in vain. An uneasy movement ran
+through the audience--the actors gathered around and gazed at him. &quot;He
+is dead! It has come upon us!&quot; ran in accents of horror from lip to
+lip.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An indescribable confusion followed. The audience rose tumultuously
+from the seats. Caiaphas, the burgomaster, ordered in a low tone: &quot;To
+the central stage--every one! Quick--and then drop the curtain!&quot; But no
+one heard him: He bent over the senseless figure. &quot;It is only an attack
+of faintness,&quot; he called to the audience, but the excitement could no
+longer be allayed--all were pressing across the orchestra to the stage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess could bear it no longer--rank and station, the
+thousands of curious eyes to which she would expose herself were all
+forgotten--there is a cosmopolitanism which unites mortals in a common
+brotherhood more closely than anything else--a mutual sorrow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer, Freyer!&quot; she shrieked in tones that thrilled every nerve of
+the bystanders: &quot;Do not die--oh, do not die!&quot; Rushing upon the stage,
+she threw herself on her knees beside the unconscious form.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ladies and gentlemen--I must beg you to clear the stage&quot;--shouted
+Caiaphas to the throng, and turning to the countess, whom he
+recognized, added: &quot;Countess Wildenau--I can permit no stranger to
+enter, I <i>must</i> beg you to withdraw.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She drew herself up to her full height, composed and lofty--an
+indescribable dignity pervaded her whole bearing: &quot;I have a right to be
+here--I am his wife!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_39" href="#div1Ref_39">CHAPTER XXXIX.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>STATIONS OF SORROW</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I <span class="sc">am</span> his wife!&quot; Heaven and earth have heard it. She had
+conquered. The
+tremendous deed, fear of which had led her to the verge of crime--love
+had now done in a <i>single</i> moment without conflict or delay. There was
+joy in heaven and on earth over the penitent sinner! And all the
+viewless powers which watch the way to the cross, wherever any human
+being treads it; all the angels, the guardian spirits of the now
+interrupted Play hastened to aid the new Magdalene, that she might
+climb the Mount of Calvary to the Hill of Golgotha. And as if the
+heavenly hosts were rushing down to accompany this bearer of the cross
+a gust of wind suddenly swept through the open space across the stage
+and over the audience, and the palms rustled in the breeze, the palaces
+of Jerusalem tottered, and the painted curtains swayed in the air. This
+one gust of wind had rent the threatening clouds so that the sun sent
+down a slanting brilliant ray like the dawn of light when chaos began
+to disappear!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A light rain which, in the golden streaks, glittered like dusty pearls
+fell, settling the dust and dispelling the sultriness of the parched
+earth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Silence had fallen upon the people on the stage and in the audience,
+and as a scorched flower thirstily expands to the cooling dew, the sick
+man's lips parted and eagerly inhaled the damp, refreshing air.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh--he lives!&quot; said the countess in a tone as sweet as any mother ever
+murmured at the bedside of a child whom she had believed dead, any
+bride on the breast of her wounded lover.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><img src="images/p422.png" alt="page422"><br>&quot;<i>I have a right to be here--I am his wife!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He lives, oh, he lives!&quot; all the spectators repeated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Meanwhile the physician had come and examined the sufferer, who had
+been placed on a couch formed of cloaks and shawls: &quot;It is a severe
+attack of heart disease. The patient must be taken to better lodgings
+than he has hitherto occupied. This condition needs the most careful
+nursing to avoid the danger. I have repeatedly called attention to it,
+but always in vain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It will be different now, Doctor!&quot; said the countess. &quot;I have already
+secured rooms, and beg to be allowed to move him there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Countess!&quot; she suddenly heard a voice exclaim behind her--and when
+she glanced around, Ludwig Gross stood before her in speechless
+amazement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can it be? I have just arrived by the train from Munich--but I did not
+see--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I suppose so--I drove here last night. But do not call me Countess any
+longer, Herr Gross--my name is Magdalena Freyer.&quot; The drawing-master
+made no reply, but knelt beside the sick man, who was beginning to
+breathe faintly and bent over him a long time: &quot;If only it is not too
+late!&quot; he muttered bitterly, still unappeased.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster approached the countess and held out his hand, gazing
+into her eyes with deep emotion. &quot;Such an act can never be too late.
+Even if it can no longer benefit the individual, it is still a
+contribution to the moral treasure of the world,&quot; he said consolingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you. You are very kind!&quot; she answered, tears springing to her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A litter had now been obtained and the physician ordered the sufferer
+to be lifted gently and laid upon it: &quot;We will first take him to the
+dressing-room, and give him some food before carrying him home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess had mentioned the street: &quot;It is some little distance to
+the house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The command was obeyed and the litter was carried to the dressing-room.
+The friends followed with the countess. On the way a woman timidly
+joined her and gazed at her with large, sparkling eyes: &quot;I don't know
+whether you remember me? I only wanted to tell you how glad I am that
+you are here? Oh, how well he has deserved it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mary!&quot; said the countess, shamed and overpowered by the charm of this
+most unselfish soul, clasping both her hands: &quot;Mary--Mother of God!&quot;
+And her head sank on her companion's virgin breast Anastasia passed her
+arm affectionately around her and supported her as they moved on.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, we two must hold together, like Mary and Magdalene! We will aid
+each other--it is very hard, but our two saints had no easier lot. And
+if I can help in any way--&quot; They had reached the dressing-room, the
+group paused, the countess pressed Anastasia's hand: &quot;Yes, we will hold
+together, Mary!&quot; Then she hastened to her husband's side--but the
+doctor motioned to her to keep at a distance that the sudden sight of
+her might not harm the sick man when he recovered his consciousness. He
+felt his pulse: &quot;Scarcely fifty beats--I must give an injection of
+ether.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He drew the little apparatus from his pocket, thrust the needle into
+Freyer's arm and injected a little of the stimulating fluid. The
+bystanders awaited the result in breathless suspense: &quot;Bring wine,
+eggs, bouillon, anything you can get--only something strong, which will
+increase the action of the heart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The drawing-master hurried off. The pastor, who had just heard of the
+occurrence, now entered: &quot;Is the sacrament to be administered?&quot; he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, there is no fear of so speedy an end,&quot; the physician answered.
+&quot;Rest is the most imperative necessity.&quot; The burgomaster led the pastor
+to the countess: &quot;This is Herr Freyer's wife, who has just publicly
+acknowledged her marriage,&quot; he said in a low tone: &quot;Countess Wildenau!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, ah--these are certainly remarkable events. Well, I can only hope
+that God will reward such love,&quot; the priest replied with delicate tact:
+&quot;You have made a great sacrifice, Countess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, if you knew--&quot; she paused. &quot;Hark--he is recovering his
+consciousness!&quot; She clasped her hands and bent forward to listen--&quot;may
+God help us now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How do you feel, Herr Freyer?&quot; asked the doctor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tolerably well, Doctor! Are you weeping, Mary? Did I frighten you?&quot; He
+beckoned to her and she hastened to his side.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess' eyes grew dim as he whispered something to Anastasia.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the torture of the damned--Mary might be near him, his
+first glance, his first words were hers, while she, his wife, stood
+banished, at a distance! And she had made him suffer this torture for
+years--without compassion. &quot;Oh, God, Thou art just, and Thy scales
+weigh exactly!&quot; But the all-wise Father does not only punish--He also
+shows mercy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where is she?&quot; Anastasia repeated his words in a clear, joyous tone:
+&quot;You thought you saw her in the passage through which the chorus
+passed. Oh, you must have been mistaken!&quot; she added at a sign from the
+physician.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, you are right, how could she be there--it is impossible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess tried to move forward, but the physician authoritatively
+stopped her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster gently approached him. &quot;My dear Freyer--what could I do
+for you, have you no wish?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing except to die! I would willingly have played until the end of
+the performances--for your sake--but I am content.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The drawing-master brought in the food which the physician had ordered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The latter went to him with a glass of champagne. &quot;Drink this, Herr
+Freyer; it will do you good, and then you can eat something.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the sick man did not touch the glass: &quot;Oh, no, I will take nothing
+more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why not? You must eat something, or you will not recover.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly you can.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, I <i>will</i> not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Freyer,&quot; cried Ludwig beseechingly, &quot;don't be obstinate--what fancy
+have you taken into your head?&quot; And he again vainly offered the
+strengthening draught.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Shall I live if I drink it?&quot; asked Freyer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly,&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then I will not take it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not even if I entreat you, Freyer?&quot; asked the burgomaster.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, do not torture me--do not force me to live longer!&quot; pleaded Freyer
+with a heart-rending expression. &quot;If you knew what I have suffered--you
+would not grudge the release which God now sends me! I have vowed to be
+faithful to my duty until death--did I not, sexton, on Daisenberger's
+grave? I have held out as long as I could--now let me die quietly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, my friend!&quot; said the sexton, &quot;must we lose you?&quot; The strong man
+was weeping like a child. &quot;Live for <i>us</i>, if not for yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sexton, if God calls me, I must not linger--for I have still
+another duty. I have <i>lived</i> for you--I must <i>die</i> for another.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But, Herr Freyer!&quot; said the pastor kindly, &quot;suppose that this other
+person should not be benefitted by your death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer looked as if he did not understand him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If this other of whom you speak--had come--to nurse and stay with
+you?&quot; the pastor continued.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer raised himself a little--a blissful presentiment flitted over
+his face like the coming of dawn.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Suppose that your eyes did <i>not</i> deceive you?&quot; the burgomaster now
+added gently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Am I not dreaming--was it true--was it possible?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you don't excite yourself and will keep perfectly calm,&quot; said the
+physician, &quot;I will bring--your wife!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My--wife? You are driving me mad. I have no wife.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No wife--you have <i>no wife</i>?&quot; cried a voice as if from the depths of
+an ocean of love and anguish, as the unhappy woman who had forced her
+own husband to disown her, sank sobbing before him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A cry--&quot;my dove!&quot; and his head drooped on her breast</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A breathless silence pervaded the room. Every one's hands were clasped
+in silent prayer. No one knew whether the moment was fraught with life
+or death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But it was to bring life--for the Christus must not die on the way to
+the cross, and Mary Magdalene must still climb to its foot--the last,
+steepest portion--that her destiny might be fulfilled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The husband and wife were whispering together. The others modestly drew
+back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you wish to die? It was not enough that you vanished from my life
+like a shadow--you wish to go out of the world also?&quot; she sobbed. &quot;Do
+you believe that I could then find rest on earth or in Heaven?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, dear one, I am happy. Let me die--I have prayed for it always! God
+has mercifully granted it. When I am out of the world you will be a
+widow, and can marry another without committing a sin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Heaven--Joseph! I will marry no other--I love no one save you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He smiled mournfully: &quot;You love me now because I am dying--had I lived,
+you would have gone onward in the path of sin--and been lost. No, my
+child, I must die, that you may learn, by my little sacrifice, to
+understand the great atonement of Christ. I must sacrifice myself for
+you, as Christ sacrificed himself for the sins of mankind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, that is not needed. God has taken the will for the deed, and given
+it the same power. Your lofty, patient suffering has conquered me. You
+need not die. I mistook you for what you were not--a God, and did not
+perceive what you <i>were</i>. Now I do know it. Forgive my folly. To save
+me you need be nothing save a man--a genuine, noble, lovable man, as
+you are--then no God will be required.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you believe that?&quot; Freyer looked at her with a divine expression:
+&quot;Do you believe you could be content with a <i>mortal man</i>! No, my child,
+the same disappointment would follow as before. The flame that blazes
+within your soul does not feed upon earthly matter. You need a God, and
+your great heart will not rest until you have found Him. Therefore be
+comforted: The false Christ will vanish and the true one will rise from
+His grave.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, do not wrong me so, do not die, let me not atone for my sin to the
+dead, but to the living! Oh, do not be cruel--do not punish me so
+harshly. You are silent! You are growing paler still! Ah, you will go
+and leave me standing <i>alone</i> half way along the road, unable either to
+move forward or back! Joseph, I have broken every bond with the duke,
+have cast aside everything which separated us--have become a poor,
+helpless woman, and you will abandon me--now, when I have given you my
+whole existence, when I am nothing but your wife.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer raised himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Give me the wine--now I long to live.&quot; A universal movement of delight
+ran through the group of friends, and the countess held the foaming cup
+to his lips and supported his head with one hand, that he might drink.
+Then she gave him a little food and arranged him in a more comfortable
+position. &quot;Come, let your wife nurse you!&quot; she said so tenderly that
+all the listeners were touched. Then she laid a cooling bandage on his
+brow. &quot;Ah, that does me good!&quot; he said, but his eyes rested steadily on
+hers and he seemed to be alluding to something other than the external
+remedies, though these quickly produced their effect. His breathing
+gradually became more regular, his eyes closed, weakness asserted
+itself, but he slept soundly and quietly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The physician withdrew to soothe the strangers waiting outside by an
+encouraging report. Only Freyer's friends and the pastor remained. The
+countess rose from beside the sleeper's couch and stretched her arms
+towards Heaven: &quot;Lend him to me, Merciful God! I have forfeited my
+right to him--I say it in the presence of all these witnesses--but
+be merciful and lend him to me long enough for me to atone for my
+sin--that I may not be doomed to the torture of eternal remorse!&quot; She
+spoke in a low tone in order not to rouse the slumberer, but in a voice
+which could be distinctly heard by the others. Her hands were clasped
+convulsively, her eyes were raised as if to pierce to the presence of
+God--her noble bearing expressed the energy of despair, striving with
+eternity for the space of a moment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, God--oh, God, leave him with me! Hold back Thy avenging
+hand--grant a respite. Omnipotent One, first witness my
+atonement--first try whether I may not be saved by mercy! Friends,
+friends, pray with me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She clasped their hands as if imploring help. Her strength was failing.
+Trembling, she sank beside Ludwig, and pressed her forehead, bedewed
+with cold perspiration, against his arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All bared their heads and prayed in a low tone. Madeleine's breast
+heaved in mortal anguish and, almost stifled by her suppressed tears,
+she could only falter, half unconsciously: &quot;Have pity upon us!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Meanwhile the doctor had made all necessary preparations and was
+waiting for the patient to wake in order to remove him to his home.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The murmured prayers had ceased and the friends gathered silently
+around the bed. The countess again knelt beside the invalid, clasping
+him in a gentle embrace. Her tears were now checked lest she might
+disturb him, but they continued to flow in her heart. Her lips rested
+on his hand in a long kiss--the hand which had once supported and
+guided her now lay pale and thin on the coverlet, as if it would never
+more have strength to clasp hers with a loving pressure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you weeping, dear wife?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That voice! She raised her head, but could not meet the eyes which
+gazed at her so tenderly. Dared <i>she</i>, the condemned one, enjoy the
+bliss of that look? No, never! And, without raising an eyelash, she hid
+her guilty brow with unutterable tenderness upon his breast. The feeble
+hand was raised and gently stroked her cheek, touching it as lightly as
+a withered leaf.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not weep!&quot; he whispered with the voice of a consoling angel: &quot;Be
+calm--God is good, He will be merciful to us also.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Oh, trumpet of the Judgment Day, what is thy blare to the sinner,
+compared to the gentle words of pardoning love from a wounded breast?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess was overpowered by the mild, merciful judgment.--</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A living lane had formed in front of the theatre. He was to be carried
+home, rumor said, and the people were waiting in a dense throng to see
+him. At last a movement ran through the ranks. &quot;He is coming! Is he
+alive? Yes, they say he is!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Slowly and carefully the men bore out the litter on which he lay, pale
+and motionless as a dead man. The pastor walked on one side, and on the
+other, steadying his head, the countess. She could scarcely walk, but
+she did not avert her eyes from him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As on the way to Golgotha, low sobs greeted the little procession. &quot;Oh,
+dear, poor fellow! Ah, just one look, one touch of the hand,&quot; the
+people pleaded. &quot;Wait just one moment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As if by a single impulse the bearers halted and the people pressed
+forward with throbbing hearts, modestly, reverently touching the
+hanging coverlet, and gazing at him with tearful eyes full of
+unutterable grief.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, with a beautiful impulse of humanity, gently drew his
+hand from under the wraps and held it to the sorrowing spectators who
+had waited so long, that they might kiss it--and every one who could
+get near enough eagerly drank from the proffered beaker of love.
+Grateful eyes followed the countess and she felt their benediction with
+the joy of the saints when God lends their acts the power of divine
+grace. She was now a beggar, yet never before had she been rich enough
+to bestow such alms: &quot;Yes, kiss his hand--he deserves it!&quot; she
+whispered, and her eyes beamed with a love which was not of this earth,
+yet which blended <i>her</i>, the world, and everything it contained into a
+single, vast, fraternal community!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer smiled at her--and now she bore the sweet, tender gaze, for she
+felt as if a time might come when she would again deserve it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At last they reached the pretty quiet house where she had that morning
+hired lodgings for him and herself. Mourning love had followed him to
+the spot, the throng had increased so that the bearers could scarcely
+get in with the litter. &quot;Farewell--poor sufferer, may God be with you,&quot;
+fell from every lip as he was borne in and the door closed behind him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The spacious room on the lower floor received the invalid. The landlady
+had hurriedly prepared the bed and he was laid in it. As the soft
+pillows arranged by careful hands yielded to the weary form, and his
+wife bent over him, supporting his head on her arm--he glanced joyously
+around the circle, unable to think or say anything except: &quot;Oh, how
+comfortable I am!&quot; They turned away to hide their emotion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess laid her head on the pillow beside him, no longer
+restraining her tears, and murmuring in his ear: &quot;Angel, you modest,
+forgiving, loving angel!&quot; She was silent--forcing herself to repress
+the language of her heart, for the cry of her remorse might disturb the
+feeble invalid. Yet he felt what moved her, he had always read her
+inmost soul so long as she loved him--not until strangers came between
+them did he fail to comprehend her. Now he felt what she must suffer in
+her remorse and pitied her torture, he thought only of how he might
+console her. But this moved her more than all the reproaches he had a
+right to make, for the greater, the more noble his nature revealed
+itself to be the greater her guilt became!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The friends were to take turns in helping the countess watch the
+invalid through the night, and now left him. The doctor said that there
+was no immediate danger and went away to get more medicines. When all
+had gone, she knelt beside the bed and said softly, &quot;Now I am yours! I
+do not ask whether you will forgive me, for I see that you have already
+done so--I ask only whether you will again take the condemned,
+sin-laden woman to your heart? In my deed today I chose the fate of
+poverty. I can offer you nothing more in worldly wealth, I can only
+provide you with a simple home, work for you, nurse you, and atone by
+lifelong love and fidelity for the wrong I have done you. Will you be
+content with that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer drew her toward him with all his feeble strength. Tears of
+unutterable happiness were trickling down his cheeks. &quot;I thank Thee,
+God, Thou has given her to me to-day for the first time! Come, my
+wife--place your fate trustfully in God's hands and your dear heart in
+mine, and all will be well. He will be merciful and suffer me to live a
+few years that I may work for you, not you for me. Oh, blissful words,
+work for my wife, they make me well again. And now, while we are alone,
+the first sacred kiss of conjugal love!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He tried to raise his head, but she pressed it with gentle violence
+back upon the pillow. &quot;No, you must keep perfectly quiet. Imagine that
+you are a marble statue--and let me kiss you. Remain cold and let all
+the fervor of a repentant, loving heart pour itself upon you.&quot; She
+stooped and touched his pale mouth gently, almost timidly, with her
+quivering lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, that was again an angel's kiss!&quot; he murmured, clasping his hands
+over the head bowed in penitent humility.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_40" href="#div1Ref_40">CHAPTER XL.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>NEAR THE GOAL</h3>
+
+<p class="normal">From that hour Magdalena Freyer never left her husband's
+bedside.
+Though friends came in turn to share the night-watches, she remained
+with them. After a few days the doctor said that unless an attack of
+weakness supervened, the danger was over for the present, though he did
+not conceal from her that the disease was incurable. She clasped her
+hands and answered: &quot;I will consider every day that I am permitted to
+keep him a boon, and submissively accept what God sends.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After that time she always showed her husband a smiling face, and
+he--perfectly aware of his condition--practiced the same loving
+deception toward her. Thus they continued to live in the salutary
+school of the most rigid self-control--she, bearing with dignity a sad
+fate for which she herself was to blame--he in the happiness of that
+passive heroism of Christianity, which goes with a smile to meet death
+for others! An atmosphere of cheerfulness surrounded this sick-bed,
+which can be understood only by one who has watched for months beside
+the couch of incurable disease, and felt the gratitude with which every
+delay of the catastrophe, every apparent improvement is greeted--the
+quiet delight afforded by every little relief given the beloved
+sufferer, every smile which shows us he feels somewhat easier.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This cup of anguish the penitent woman now drained to the dregs. True,
+a friendly genius always stood beside it to comfort her: the hope that,
+though not fully recovered, he might still be spared to her. &quot;How many
+thousands who have heart disease, with care and nursing live to grow
+old.&quot; This thought sustained her. Yet the ceaseless anxiety and
+sleepless nights exhausted her strength. Her cheeks grew hollow, dark
+circles surrounded her eyes, but she did not heed it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I still please my husband!&quot; she said smiling, in reply to all
+entreaties to spare herself on account of her altered appearance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My dove!&quot; Freyer said one evening, when Ludwig came for the
+night-watch: &quot;Now I must show a husband's authority and command you to
+take some rest, you cannot go on in this way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh! never mind me--if I should die for you, what would it matter?
+Would it not be a just atonement?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No--that would be no atonement,&quot; he said tenderly, pushing back the
+light fringe of curls that shaded her brow, as if he wished to read her
+thoughts on it: &quot;My child, you must <i>live</i> for me--that is your
+atonement. Do you think you would do anything good if you expiated your
+fault by death and said: 'There you have my life for yours, now we are
+quits, you have no farther claim upon me!' Would that be love, my
+dove?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He drew her gently toward him: &quot;Or would you prefer that we should be
+quits <i>thus</i>, and that I should desire no other expiation from you than
+your death?&quot; She threw her arms around him, clasping him in a closer
+and closer embrace. There was no need of speech, the happy, blissful
+throbbing of her heart gave sufficient answer. He kissed her on the
+forehead: &quot;Now sleep, beloved wife and rest--do it for my sake, that I
+may have a fresh, happy wife!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She rose as obediently as a child, but it was hard for her, and she
+nodded longingly from the door as if a boundless, hopeless distance
+already divided them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ludwig!&quot; said Freyer, gazing after her in delight: &quot;Ludwig, <i>is</i> this
+love?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, by Heaven!&quot; replied his friend, deeply moved: &quot;Happy man, I would
+bear all your sorrows--for one hour like this!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you now forgiven what she did to me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, from my very soul!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Magdalena,&quot; cried Freyer. &quot;Come in again--you must know it before you
+sleep--Ludwig is reconciled to you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ludwig,&quot; said the countess: &quot;my strict, noble friend, I thank you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Leading him to the invalid, she placed their hands together. &quot;Now we
+are again united, and everything is just as it was ten years ago--only
+I have become a different person, and a new and higher life is
+beginning for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She pressed a kiss upon the brow of her husband and friend, as if to
+seal a vow, then left them alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Ludwig, if I could see you so happy!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not be troubled--whoever has experienced this hour with you, needs
+nothing for himself,&quot; he answered, an expression of the loftiest, most
+unselfish joy on his pallid face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess, before retiring, sent for Martin who was still in
+Oberammergau, awaiting her orders, and went out into the garden that
+Freyer might not hear them talking in the next room. &quot;Martin,&quot; she said
+with quiet dignity, though there was a slight tremor in her voice, &quot;it
+is time for me to give some thought to worldly matters. During the last
+few days I could do nothing but devote myself to the sick bed. Drive
+home, my good Martin, and give the carriage and horses to the
+Wildenaus. Tell them what has happened, if they do not yet know it, I
+cannot write now. Meanwhile, you faithful old servant, tell them to
+take all I have--my jewels, my palace, my whole private fortune. Only I
+should like--for the sake of my sick husband--to have them leave me,
+for humanity's sake, enough to get him what he needs for his recovery!&quot;
+here her voice failed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Countess--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, don't call me that!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes--for the countess will always be what she is, even as Herr
+Freyer's wife! I only wanted to say. Your Highness, that I wouldn't do
+that. If I were you, I wouldn't give <i>them</i> a single kind word. I'll
+take back the carriage and horses and say that they can have everything
+which belongs to you. But I won't beg for my Countess! I think it would
+be less disgrace if you should condescend to accept something from a
+plain man like myself, who would consider it an honor and whom you
+needn't thank! I--&quot; he laughed awkwardly: &quot;I only want to say, if you
+won't take offence--that I bargained for a little house to-day. But I
+did it in your name, so that Your Highness needn't be ashamed to live
+with me! I haven't any kith and kin and--and it will belong to you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Martin, Martin!&quot; the proud woman humbly bent her head. &quot;Be it so! You
+shall help me, if all else abandons me. I will accept it as a loan from
+you. I can paint--I will try to earn something, perhaps from one of the
+fashion journals, to which I have always subscribed. The maid once told
+me I might earn my living by it--it was a prophecy! So I can, God
+willing, repay you at some future day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, we won't talk about that!&quot; cried Martin joyously, kissing the
+countess' hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I may have a little room under the roof for myself--we'll call it
+the interest. And I have something to spare besides, for--you must eat,
+too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess covered her face with her trembling hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now I'll drive home and in Your Highness' name throw carriage, horses,
+and all the rest of the rubbish at the Wildenaus' feet--then I'll come
+back and bring something nice for our invalid which can't be had
+here--and my livery, for Sundays and holidays, so that we can make a
+good appearance! And I'll look after the garden and house, and--do
+whatever else you need. Oh, I've never been so happy in my life!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He left her, and the countess stood gazing after him a long time,
+deeply shamed by the simple fidelity of the old man, who wished to wear
+her livery and be her servant, while he was really her benefactor: In
+truth--high or low--human nature is common to all. Martin returned:
+&quot;Doesn't Your Highness wish to bid farewell to the horses? Shan't I
+drive past, or will it make you feel too badly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Beautiful creatures,&quot; a tone of melancholy echoed in her voice as she
+spoke: &quot;No, Martin, I don't want to see them again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes--!&quot; Martin had understood her, and pitied her more than for
+anything else, for it seemed to him the hardest of sacrifices to part
+with such beautiful horses.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess remained alone in the little garden. The stars were
+shining above her head. She thought of the diamond stars which she had
+once flung to Freyer in false atonement, to place in the dead child's
+coffin--if she had them now to use their value to support her sick
+husband--<i>that</i> would be the fitting atonement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Only do not let <i>him</i> starve, oh, God! If I were forced to see him
+starve! Oh, God!--spare me that, if it can be!&quot; she prayed, her eyes
+uplifted with anxious care to the glittering star-strewn vault.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How is he?&quot; a woman's figure suddenly emerged from the shadow at her
+side.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Mary--Anastasia!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How is he?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Better, I think! He was very cheerful this evening!--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you, Frau Freyer--how is it with you? It is hard, is it not? There
+are things to which we must become accustomed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can understand. But do not lose confidence--God is always with us.
+And--I will pray to the Virgin Mary, whom I have so often personated!
+But if there is need of anything where <i>human power</i> can aid, I may
+help, may I not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mary--angel, be my teacher--sister!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, <i>mother</i>!&quot; said Anastasia smiling: &quot;For if Freyer is my son, you
+must be my daughter. Oh, you two poor hearts, I am and shall now remain
+your mother, Mary!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mother Mary!&quot;--the countess repeated, and the two women held each
+other in a loving embrace.----</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The week was drawing to a close, and the burgomaster was now obliged to
+consider the question of the distribution of parts. He found the
+patient out of bed and wearing a very cheerful, hopeful expression.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know, Herr Freyer, whether I can venture to discuss my
+important business with you,&quot; he began timidly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh--I understand--you wish to know when I can play again? Next
+Sunday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are not in earnest?&quot; said the burgomaster, almost startled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not in earnest? Herr Burgomaster, what would be the value of all my
+oaths, if I should now retreat like a coward? Do you think I would
+break my word to you a second time, so long as I had breath in my
+body?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly not, so long as it is in your power to hold out. But this
+time you <i>cannot</i>! Ask the doctor--he will not allow it so soon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Am I to ask <i>him</i>, when the question concerns the most sacred duty? I
+will consult him about my life--but my duties are more than my life.
+Only thus can I atone for the old sin which ten years ago made me a
+renegade.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you say this now--when you are so happy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Herr Burgomaster,&quot; replied Freyer with lofty serenity: &quot;A man who has
+once been so happy and so miserable as I, learns to view life from a
+different standpoint! No joy enraptures, no misfortune terrifies him.
+Everything to which we give these names is fluctuating, and only <i>one</i>
+happiness is certain: to do one's duty--until death!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Herr Freyer! That is a noble thought, but if your wife should hear
+it--would she agree?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Surely, for she thinks as I do--if she did not, we should never have
+been united--she would never have cast aside wealth, rank, power, and
+all worldly advantages to live with me in exile. Do you believe she did
+so for any earthly cause? She thinks so--but I know better: The cross
+allured her--as it does all who come in contact with it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What are you saying about the cross?&quot; asked the countess, entering the
+room: &quot;Good-morning, Friend Burgomaster!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My wife! He will not believe that you would permit me to play the
+Christus again--even should it cost my life?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The countess turned pale with terror. &quot;Oh, Heaven, are you thinking of
+doing so?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes&quot;--replied the burgomaster: &quot;He will not be dissuaded from it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Joseph!&quot; said the countess mournfully: &quot;Will you inflict this grief
+upon me--now, when you have scarcely recovered?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I assure you that I have played the Christus when I felt far worse
+than I do now--thanks to your self-sacrificing care, dear wife.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Tears filled the countess' eyes, and she remained silent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My dove, do we not understand each other?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes &quot;--she said after a long, silent struggle: &quot;Do it, my beloved
+husband--give yourself to God, as I resign you to Him. He has only
+loaned you to me, I dare not keep you from Him, if He desires to show
+Himself again to the world in your form! I will cherish and tend and
+watch over you, that you may endure it! And when you are taken down
+from the cross, I will rub your strained limbs and bedew your burning
+brow with the tears of all the sorrows Mary and Magdalene suffered for
+the Crucified One, and--when you have rested and again raise your eyes
+to mine with a smile, I will rest your head upon my breast in the
+blissful feeling that you are no God Who will ascend to Heaven--but a
+man, a tender, beloved man, and--<i>my own</i>. Oh, God cannot destroy such
+happiness, and if He does, He will only draw you to Himself, that I may
+therefore long the more fervently for you, for Him, Who is the source
+of <i>all</i> love--then--&quot; her voice was stifled by tears as she laid her
+head on his breast--&quot;then your wife will not murmur, but wait silently
+and patiently till she can follow you.&quot; Leaning on his breast, she wept
+softly, clasping him in her arms that he might not be torn from her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear wife,&quot; he answered gently, and the wonderfully musical voice
+trembled with the most sacred emotion, &quot;we will accept whatever God
+sends--loyal to the cross--you and I, beloved, high-hearted woman! Do
+not weep, my dove! Being loyal to the cross does not mean only to be
+patient--it means also to be strong! Does not the soldier go bravely to
+death for an earthly king, and should not I joyfully peril my life for
+my <i>God</i>?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, my husband you are right, I will be strong. Go, then, holy
+warrior, into the battle for the ideal and put yourself at the disposal
+of your brave fellow combatants!&quot; She slowly withdrew her arms from his
+neck as if taking a long, reluctant farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster resolutely approached. &quot;We people of Ammergau must bow
+to this sacred zeal. This is indeed a grandeur which conquers death!
+Whoever sees this effect of our modest Play on souls like yours cannot
+be mistaken in believing that the power which works such miracles does
+not emanate from men, and must proceed from a God. But as He is a God
+of love. He will not accept your sacrifice. Freyer must not take the
+part which might cost him his life. We will find a Christus elsewhere
+and thus manage for this time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Freyer fixed his eyes mournfully on the ground. &quot;Now the crown has
+indeed fallen from my head! God has no longer accepted me--I am shut
+out from the sacred work!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The burgomaster placed his wife in his arms: &quot;Let it be your task now
+to guard this soul and lead it to its destination--this, too, is a
+sacred work!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, and amen!&quot; said Freyer.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span style="letter-spacing:5px; font-weight:bold"><sup>*</sup><sub>*</sub><sup>*</sup></span></p>
+
+<p class="normal">The ex-countess and the former Christus, both divested of their
+temporary dignity, verified his words, attaining in humility true
+dignity! Freyer rallied under the care of his beloved wife, and they
+used the respite allotted to them by leading a life filled with labor,
+sacrifice, and gratitude toward God.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You ask me, dear friend,&quot; the countess wrote a year later to the Duke
+of Barnheim, &quot;whether you can assist me in any way? I thank you for the
+loyal friendship, but must decline the noble offer. Contentment does
+not depend upon what we have, but what we need, and I have that, for my
+wants are few. This is because I have obtained blessings, which
+formerly I never possessed and which render me independent of
+everything else. Much as God has taken from me. He has bestowed in
+exchange three precious gifts: contempt for the vanities of the world,
+appreciation of the little pleasures of life, and recognition of the
+real worth of human beings. I am not even so poor as you imagine. My
+faithful old Martin, who will never leave me, helped me out of the
+first necessity. Afterwards the Wildenaus' were induced to give up my
+private property, jewels, dresses, and works of art, and their value
+proved sufficient to pay Martin for the little house he had purchased
+for me and to establish for my husband a small shop for the sale of
+wood-carving, so that he need not be dependent upon others. When he
+works industriously--which he is only too anxious to do at the cost of
+his delicate health--we can live without anxiety, though, of course,
+very simply. I know how many of my former acquaintances would shudder
+at the thought of such a prosaic existence! To them I would say that I
+have learned not to seek poetry in life, but to place it there. Yes,
+tell the mocking world that Countess Wildenau lives by her husband's
+labor and is not ashamed of it! My friend! To throw away a fortune for
+love of a woman is nothing--but to toil year in and year out, with
+tireless fidelity and sacrifice, to earn a wife's daily bread in the
+sweat of one's brow, <i>is</i> something! Do you know what it is to a woman
+to owe her life daily to her beloved husband? An indescribable
+happiness! You, my friend, would have bestowed a principality upon me,
+and I should have accepted it as my rightful tribute, without owing you
+any special gratitude--but the hand which <i>toils</i> for me I kiss every
+evening with a thrill of grateful reverence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So do not grieve for me! Wed the lovable and charming Princess Amalie
+of whom you wrote, and should you ever come with your young wife into
+the vicinity of the little house surrounded by rustling firs, under the
+shadow of the Kofel, I should be cordially glad to welcome you.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Farewell! May you be as happy, my noble friend, as you deserve, and
+leave to me my poverty and my <i>wealth</i>. You see that the phantom has
+become reality--the ideal is attained.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your old friend</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Magdalena Freyer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the duke received this letter his valet saw him, for the first
+time in his life, weep bitterly.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2><a name="div1_41" href="#div1Ref_41">CONCLUSION.</a></h2>
+
+<h3>FROM ILLUSION TO TRUTH.</h3>
+
+
+<p class="normal">For ten years God granted the loving wife her husband's life,
+it seemed
+as if he had entirely recovered. At last the day came when He required
+it again. For the third time the community offered Freyer the part of
+the Christus. He was still a handsome man, and spite of his forty-eight
+years, as slender as a youth, while his spiritual expression, chaste
+and lofty--rendered him more than ever an ideal representative of
+Christ God bestowed upon him the full cup of the perfection of his
+destiny, and it was completed as he had longed. Not on a sick-bed
+succumbing to lingering disease--but high on the cross, as victor over
+pain and death. God had granted him the grace of at last completing the
+task--he had held out this time until the final performance--then, when
+they took him down from the cross for the last time under the falling
+leaves, amid the first snow of the late autumn--he did not wake again.
+On the cross the noble heart had ceased to beat, he had entered
+into the peace of Him Whom he personated--passed from illusion to
+truth--from the <i>copy</i> to the <i>prototype</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Never did mortal die a happier death, never did a more beautiful smile
+of contentment rest upon the face of a corpse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is finished! You have done in your way what your model did in His,
+you have sealed the sacred lesson of love by your death, my husband!&quot;
+said the pallid woman who pressed the last kiss upon his lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The semblance had become reality, and Mary Magdalene was weeping beside
+her Redeemer's corpse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On the third day after the crucifixion, when the true Christ had risen,
+Freyer was borne to his grave.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But, like the ph&#339;nix from its ashes, on that day the real Christ
+rose from the humble sepulchre for the penitent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When wilt thou appear to me in the spring garden, Redeeming Love?&quot; she
+had once asked. Now she was--in the autumn garden--beside the grave of
+all happiness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the coffin had been lowered and the pall-bearers approached the
+worn, drooping widow, the burgomaster asked: &quot;Where do you intend to
+live now, Madame?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where, except in Ammergau, here--where his foot has marked for me the
+path to God? Oh, my Gethsemane!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But,&quot; said the pastor, &quot;will you exile yourself forever in this quiet
+village? Do you not wish to return to your own circle and the world of
+culture? You have surely atoned sufficiently.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Atoned? No, your Reverence, not atoned, for the <i>highest happiness</i> is
+no atonement--expiation is beginning <i>now</i>.&quot; She turned toward the
+Christ which hung on the wall of the church, not far from the grave,
+and extending her arms toward it murmured: &quot;Now I have <i>nothing</i> save
+<i>Thee</i>! Thou hast conquered--idea of Christianity, thy power is
+eternal!&quot;----</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The cloud of tears hung heavily over Ammergau, falling from time to
+time in damp showers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Evening had closed in. Through the lighted windows of the ground floor
+of a little house, surrounded by rustling pines, two women were
+visible, Mary and Magdalena. The latter was kneeling before the
+&quot;Mother&quot; whose clasped hands were laid upon her head in comfort and
+benediction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The lamps in the low-roofed houses of the village were gradually
+lighted. The peasants again sat in their ragged blouses on the carvers'
+benches, toiling, sacrificing, and bearing their lot of poverty and
+humility, proud in the consciousness that every ten years there will be
+a return of the moment which strips off the yoke and lays the purple on
+their shoulders, the moment when in their midst the miracle is again
+performed which spreads victoriously throughout a penitent world--the
+moment which brings to weary, despairing humanity peace and
+atonement--<i>on the cross</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+<br>
+<p class="hang1"><a name="div2_01" href="#div2Ref_01">Footnote 1</a>: &quot;Chips
+from a German Workshop.&quot; Vol. I. &quot;Essays on the
+Science of Religion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><a name="div2_02" href="#div2Ref_02">Footnote 2</a>: A dish
+made of flour and water fried in hot lard, but so
+soft that it is necessary to serve and eat it with a spoon.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><a name="div2_03" href="#div2Ref_03">Footnote 3</a>: A drama.
+Hamerling is better known in America as the
+author of his famous novel &quot;Aspasia.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><a name="div2_04" href="#div2Ref_04">Footnote 4</a>: Part of
+these lines of Caedmon were put into modern
+English by Robert Spence Watson.</p>
+
+<p class="hang1"><a name="div2_05" href="#div2Ref_05">Footnote 5</a>: Frey is
+the god of peace. When its Mythological
+significance was lost, it became an epithet of honor for princes and is
+found frequently applied to our Lord and God the Father.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>THE END.</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Cross, by Wilhelmine von Hillern
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Cross, by Wilhelmine von Hillern
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: On the Cross
+       A Romance of the Passion Play at Oberammergau
+
+Author: Wilhelmine von Hillern
+
+Translator: Mary J. Safford
+
+Release Date: July 15, 2011 [EBook #36725]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ON THE CROSS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+   1. Page scan source:
+      http://www.archive.org/details/oncrossaromance00saffgoog
+
+   2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "_Accursed be the hour I raised you from the dust to my
+side_."--Page 339]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                              ON THE CROSS
+
+
+                                   A
+                     Romance of the Passion Play at
+                              Oberammergau
+
+
+
+                                   BY
+                         Wilhelmine von Hillern
+                                  AND
+                            Mary J. Safford
+
+
+
+
+                        DREXEL BIDDLE, PUBLISHER
+                              PHILADELPHIA
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                            Copyright, 1902
+
+                                   BY
+
+                       ANTHONY J. DREXEL BIDDLE.
+
+                               *   *   *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+             PRESS OF DREXEL BIDDLE, PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                                   TO
+
+                         HERR JOHANNES DIEMER,
+
+      THE RENOWNED DELIVERER OF THE PROLOGUE IN THE PASSION PLAYS
+          OF THE LAST DECADE, A TRUE SON OF AMMERGAU, IN WHOSE
+            UNASSUMING PERSON DWELLS THE CALM, DEEP SOUL OF
+             THE ARTIST, THE LOYAL SYMPATHIZING FRIEND, IN
+                 WHOSE PEACEFUL HOME I FOUND THE QUIET
+                   AND THE MOOD I NEEDED TO COMPLETE
+                    THIS WORK, IT IS NOW DEDICATED,
+                        WITH GRATEFUL ESTEEM, BY
+
+                                              THE AUTHORESS.
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS.
+
+
+Introduction.
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+
+A Phantom.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+
+Old Ammergau.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+
+Young Ammergau.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+
+Expelled from the Play.
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+
+Modern Pilgrims.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+
+The Evening Before the Play.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+
+The Passion Play.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII.
+
+Freyer.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX.
+
+Signs and Wonders.
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+
+In the Early Morning.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+
+Mary and Magdalene.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+
+Bridal Torches.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+
+Banished from Eden.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+
+Pieta.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+
+The Crowing of the Cock.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+
+Prisoned.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII.
+
+Flying from the Cross.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+The Marriage.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX.
+
+At the Child's Bedside.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX.
+
+Conflicts.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI.
+
+Unaccountable.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII.
+
+Falling Stars.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+Noli me Tangere.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+Attempts to Rescue.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXV.
+
+Day is Dawning.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+The Last Support.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+Between Poverty and Disgrace.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+Parting.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+In the Deserted House.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXX.
+
+The "Wiesherrle."
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+The Return Home.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+To the Village.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+Received Again.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+At Daisenberger's Grave.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+The Watchword.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+Memories.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+The Measure is Full.
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+On the Way to the Cross.
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+Stations of Sorrow.
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XL.
+
+Near the Goal.
+
+
+                              CONCLUSION.
+
+From Illusion to Truth.
+
+
+
+
+                             INTRODUCTION.
+
+
+It was in the Garden of Gethsemane that the risen Son of God showed
+Himself, as a simple gardener, to the penitent sinner. The miracle has
+become a pious tradition. It happened long, long ago, and no eye has
+ever beheld Him since. Even when the risen Lord walked among the men
+and women of His own day, only those saw Him who wished to do so.
+
+But those who wish to see Him, see Him now; and those who wish to seek
+Him, find Him now.
+
+The Garden of Gethsemane has disappeared--the hot sun of the East has
+withered it. All things are subject to change. The surface of the earth
+alters and where the olive tree once grew green and the cedar stretched
+its leafy roof above the head of the Redeemer and the Penitent, there
+is nothing now save dead, withered leafage.
+
+But the Garden blooms once more in a cool, shady valley among the
+German mountains. Modern Gethsemane bears the name of Oberammergau. As
+the sun pursues its course from East to West, so the salvation which
+came from the East has made its way across the earth to the West.
+There, in the veins of young and vigorous nations, still flow the
+living streams that water the seeds of faith on which the miracle is
+nourished, and the stunted mountain pine which has sprung from the hard
+rocks of the Ettal Mountain is transformed to a palm tree, the poor
+habitant of the little mountain village to a God. It is change, and yet
+constancy amid the change.
+
+The world and its history also change in the passage of the centuries.
+The event before which the human race sank prostrate, as the guards
+once did when the risen Christ burst the gates of the tomb, gradually
+passed into partial oblivion. The thunder with which the veil of the
+temple was rent in twain died away in the misty distance; heaven closed
+forever behind the ascended Lord, the stars pursued their old courses
+in undisturbed regularity; revelations were silent. Men rubbed their
+eyes as though waking from a dream and began to discuss what portion
+was truth and what illusion. The strife lasted for centuries. One
+tradition overthrew another, one creed crowded out another. With sword
+in hand and the trumpet of the Judgment Day the _Ecclesia Militans_
+established the dogma, enforced unity in faith. But peace did not last
+long under the rule of the church. The Reformation again divided the
+Christian world, the Thirty Years War, the most terrible religious
+conflict the earth has ever witnessed began, and in the fury of the
+battle the combatants forgot the _cause_ of the warfare. Amid the
+streams of blood, the clouds of smoke rising from burning cities and
+villages, the ruins of shattered altars, the cross, the holy emblem for
+which the battle raged, vanished, and when it was raised again, it was
+still but an emblem of warfare, no longer a symbol of peace.
+
+There is a single spot of earth where, untouched by the tumult of the
+world, sheltered behind the lofty, inhospitable wall of a high
+mountain, the idea of Christianity has been preserved in all its
+simplicity and purity--Oberammergau. As God once suffered the Saviour
+of the World to be born in a manger, among poor shepherds, He seems to
+have extended His protecting hand over this secluded nook and reserved
+the poor mountaineers to repeat the miracle. Concealed behind the steep
+Ettal mountain was a monastery where, from ancient times, the beautiful
+arts had been sedulously fostered.
+
+One of the monks was deeply grieved because, in the outside world,
+iconoclasm was rudely shaking the old forms and, in blind fear, even
+rejecting religious art as "Romish." As no holy image would be
+tolerated; the Saviour and His Saints must disappear entirely from the
+eyes of men. Then, in his distress, the inspiration came that a sacred
+drama, performed by living beings, could produce a more powerful effect
+than word or symbol. So it was determined in the monastery that one
+should be enacted.
+
+The young people in the neighborhood, who had long been schooled by the
+influence of the learned monks to appreciate beauty, were soon trained
+to act legends and biblical poems. With increasing skill they gained
+more and more confidence, till at last their holy zeal led them to show
+mankind the Redeemer Himself, the Master of the world, in His own
+bodily form, saying to erring humanity; "Lo, thus He was and thus He
+will be forever."
+
+And while in the churches paintings and relics were torn from the walls
+and crucifixes destroyed, the first Passion play was performed, A. D.
+1634, under the open sky in the churchyard of Oberammergau--for this
+spot, on account of its solemn associations, was deemed the fitting
+place for the holy work. The disgraced image of love, defiled by blood
+and flames, once more rose in its pure beauty! Living, breathing! The
+wounds inflicted more than a thousand years before again opened, fresh
+drops of blood trickled from the brow torn by its diadem of thorns,
+again the "Continue ye in My love" fell from the pallid lips of the
+Lamb of God, and what Puritanism had destroyed in its _dead_ form was
+born anew in a _living one_. But, amid the confusion and roar of
+battle, the furious yells of hate, no one heard the gentle voice in the
+distant nook beyond the mountains.
+
+The message of peace died away, the Crucified One shed His blood
+unseen.
+
+Years passed, the misery of the people constantly increased, lands were
+ravaged, the ranks of the combatants thinned.
+
+At last the warriors began to be paralyzed, the raging storm subsided
+and pallid fear stared blankly at the foes who had at last gained their
+senses--the plague, that terrible Egyptian Sphinx, lured by the odor of
+corruption emanating from the long war, stole over the earth, and those
+at whom she gazed with the black fiery eyes of her torrid zone, sank
+beneath it like the scorched grass when the simoom sweeps over the
+desert.
+
+Silence fell, the silence of the grave, for wherever this spectre
+stalks, death follows.
+
+Fear reconciled enemies and made them forget their rancor in union
+against the common foe, the cruel, invincible plague. They gazed around
+them for some helping hand, and once more turned to that over which
+they had so long quarrelled. Then amid the deathlike stillness of the
+barren fields, the empty houses, the denuded churches, and the
+desolated land, they at last heard the little bell behind the Ettal
+mountain, which every decade summoned the Christian world to the
+Passion Play, for this was the vow taken by the Ammergau peasants to
+avert the plague and the divine wrath. Again the ever patient Saviour
+extended His arms, crying: "Come unto Me, all ye who are weary and
+heavy laden!" And they did come. They threw themselves at His feet, the
+wearied, hunted earthlings, stained with dust and blood, and He
+comforted and refreshed them, while they again recognized Him and
+learned to understand the meaning of His sacrifice.
+
+Those who thus saw Him and received the revelation announced it to
+others, who flocked thither from far and near till the little
+church-yard of Oberammergau became too narrow, and could no longer
+contain the throngs; the open fields became a sacred theatre to receive
+the pilgrims, who longed to behold the Redeemer's face.
+
+And, strangely enough, all who took part in the sacred play, seemed
+consecrated, the plague passed them by, Ammergau alone was spared.
+
+So the pious seed grew slowly, often with periods when it stood still,
+but the watchful eye can follow it in history.
+
+Peace at last came to the world. Purer airs blew. The Egyptian hyena,
+satiated, left the ravaged fields, new life bloomed from the graves,
+and this new life knew naught of the pangs and sufferings of the old.
+From the brutality and corruption of the long war, the new generation
+longed for more refined manners, culture, and the pleasures of life.
+But, as usual after such periods of deprivation and calamity, one
+extreme followed another. The desire for more refined manners and
+education led to hyperculture, the love of pleasure into epicureanism
+and luxury, grace into coquetry, mirth into frivolity. Then came the
+so-called age of gallantry. The foil took the place of the sword, the
+lace jabot of the leather jerkin, the smoke of battle gave way to the
+clouds of powder scattered by heads nodding in every direction.
+
+Masked shepherds and shepherdesses danced upon the graves of a former
+generation, a new Arcadia was created in apish imitation and peopled
+with grimacing creatures who tripped about on tiptoe in their
+high-heeled shoes. Instead of the mediaeval representations of martyrs
+and emaciated saints appeared the nude gods and cupids of a Watteau and
+his school. Grace took the place of majesty. Instead of moral law, men
+followed the easy code of convenience and everything was allowable
+which did not transgress its rules. Thus arose a generation of
+thoughtless pleasure seekers, which bore within itself a moral
+pestilence that, in contrast with the "Black Death," might be termed
+the "Rosy Death" for it breathed upon the cheeks of all whom it
+attacked the rosy flush of a fever which wasted more slowly, but none
+the less surely.
+
+And through this rouged, dancing, skipping age, with the click of its
+high-heeled shoes, its rustling hooped petticoats, its amorous glances
+and heaving bosoms, the chaste figure of the Man of Sorrows, with a
+terrible solemnity upon his pallid brow, again and again trod the stage
+of Ammergau, and whoever beheld Him dropped the flowing bowl of
+pleasure, while the laugh died on his lips.
+
+Again history and the judgment of the world moved forward. The "Rosy
+Death" had decomposed and poisoned all the healthful juices of society
+and corrupted the very heart of the human race--morality, faith, and
+philosophy, everything which makes men manly, had gradually perished
+unobserved in the thoughtless whirl. The tinsel and apish civilisation
+no longer sufficed to conceal the brute in human nature. It shook off
+every veil and stood forth in all its nakedness. The modern deluge, the
+French Revolution burst forth. Murder, anarchy, the delirium of fever
+swept over the earth in every form of horror.
+
+Again came a change, a transformation to the lowest depths of
+corruption. Grace now yielded to brutality, beauty to ugliness, the
+divine to the cynical. Altars were overthrown, religion was abjured,
+the earth trembled under the mass of destroyed traditions.
+
+But from the turmoil of the throng, fiercely rending one another, from
+the smoke and exhalations of this conflagration of the world, yonder in
+the German Garden of Gethsemane again rose victoriously, like a
+Ph[oe]nix from its ashes, the denied, rejected God, and the undefiled
+sun of Ammergau wove a halo of glory around the sublime figure which
+hung high on the cross.
+
+It was a quiet, victory, of which the frantic mob were ignorant; for
+they saw only the foe confronting them, not the one battling above. The
+latter was vanquished long ago, He was deposed, and that settled the
+matter. The people in their sovereignty can depose and set up gods at
+pleasure, and when once dethroned, they no longer exist; they are
+hurled into Tartarus. And as men can not do without a god, they create
+an idol.
+
+The country groaned beneath the iron stride of the Emperor and, without
+wishing or knowing it, he became the avenger of the God in whose place
+he stood. For, as the Thirty Years War ended under the scourge of the
+pestilence, and the age of mirth and gallantry under the lash of
+the Revolution, the Revolution yielded to the third scourge, the
+self-created idol!
+
+He, the man with compressed lips and brow sombre with thought, ruled
+the unchained elements, became lord of the anarchy, and dictated laws
+to a universe. But with iron finger he tore open the veins of humanity
+to mark upon the race the brand of slavery. The world bled from a
+thousand wounds, and upon each he marked the name "Napoleon."
+
+Then, wan as the moon floats in the sky when the glow of the setting
+sun is blazing in the horizon, the sovereign of the world in his bloody
+splendor confronted the pallid shadow of the Crucified One, also robed
+in a royal mantle, still wet with the blood He had voluntarily shed.
+They gazed silently at each other--but the usurper turned pale.
+
+At last, at the moment he imagined himself most like Him, God hurled
+the rival god into the deepest misery and disgrace. The enemy of the
+world was conquered, and popular hatred, so long repressed, at last
+freed from the unbearable restraint, poured forth upon the lonely grave
+at St. Helena its foam of execration and curses. Then the conqueror in
+Oberammergau extended His arms in pardon, saying to him also: "Verily I
+say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise."
+
+A time of peace now dawned, the century of _thought_. After the great
+exertions of the war of liberation, a truce in political life followed,
+and the nations used it to make up for what they had lost in the
+development of civilization during the period of political strife. A
+flood of ideas inundated the world. All talent, rejoicing in the mental
+activity which had so long lain dormant, was astir. There was rivalry
+and conflict for the prize in every department. The rising generation,
+conscious of newly awakening powers, dared enterprise after enterprise
+and with each waxed greater. With increasing production, the power of
+assimilation also increased. Everything grand created in other
+centuries was drawn into the circle of their own nation as if just
+discovered. That for which the enlightened minds of earlier days had
+vainly toiled, striven, bled, now bloomed in luxuriant harvests, and
+the century erected monuments to those who had been misjudged and
+adorned them with the harvest garland garnered from the seeds which
+they had sowed in tears.
+
+What Galvani and Salomon de Caeus, misunderstood and unheard, had
+planned, now made their triumphal passage across the earth as a panting
+steam engine or a flashing messenger of light, borne by and bearing
+ideas.
+
+The century which produced a Schiller and a Goethe first understood a
+Shakespeare, Sophocles and Euripides rose from the graves where they
+had lain more than a thousand years, archaeology brought the buried
+world of Homer from beneath the earth, a Canova, a Thorwaldsen, a
+Cornelius, Kaulbach, and all the great masters of the Renaissance of
+our time, took up the brushes and chisels of Phidias, Michael Angelo,
+Raphael, and Rubens, which had so long lain idle. What Aristotle had
+taught a thousand, and Winckelmann and Lessing a hundred years before,
+the knowledge of the laws of art, the appreciation of the beautiful,
+was no longer mere dead capital in the hands of learned men, but
+circulated in the throbbing veins of a vigorously developing
+civilization; it demanded and obtained the highest goal.
+
+The circle between the old and the new civilization has closed, every
+chasm has been bridged. There is an alternate action of old and new
+forces, a common labor of all the nations and the ages, as if there was
+no longer any division of time and space, as if there was but one
+eternal art, one eternal science. Ascending humanity has trodden matter
+under foot, conquered science, made manufactures useful, and
+transfigured art.
+
+But this light which has so suddenly flamed through the world also
+casts its shadows. Progress in art and science matures the judgment,
+but judgment becomes criticism and criticism negation. The dualism
+which permeates all creation, the creative and the destructive power,
+the principle of affirmation and of denial, cannot be shut out even
+now, but must continue the old contest which has never yet been
+decided. Critical analysis opposes faith, materialism wars against
+idealism, pessimism contends with optimism. The human race has reached
+the outermost limit of knowledge, but this does not content it in its
+victorious career, it wishes to break through and discover _the God_
+concealed behind. Even the heart of a God must not escape the scalpel
+which nothing withstood. But the barrier is impenetrable. And one
+party, weary of the fruitless toil, pulls back the aspiring ones.
+"Down to matter, whence you came. What are you seeking? Science has
+attained the highest goal, she has discovered the protoplasm whence all
+organism proceeded. What is the Creator of modern times? A
+physiological--chemical, vital function within the substance of a cell.
+Will ye pray to this, suffer for this, ye fools?"
+
+Others turn in loathing from this cynical interpretation of scientific
+results and throw themselves into the arms of beauty, seeking in it the
+divinity, and others still wait, battling between earth and heaven, in
+the dim belief of being nearest to the goal.
+
+It is a tremendous struggle, as though the earth must burst under the
+enormous pressure of power demanding room, irreconcilable contrasts.
+
+Then amid the heat of the lecture rooms, the throng of students of art
+and science, comes a long-forgotten voice from the days of our
+childhood! And the straining eyes suddenly turn from the teachers and
+the dissecting tables, from the glittering visions of art and the
+material world to the stage of Oberammergau and the Passion Play.
+
+There stands the unassuming figure with the crown of thorns and the
+sorrowful, questioning gaze. And with one accord their hearts rush to
+meet Him and, as the son who has grown rich in foreign lands, after
+having eaten and enjoyed everything, longs to return to the poverty of
+his home and falls repentantly at the feet of his forsaken father, the
+human race, in the midst of this intoxication of knowledge and
+pleasure, sinks sobbing before the pale flower of Christianity and
+longingly extends its arms toward the rude wooden cross on which it
+blooms!
+
+That powerful thinker, Max Mueller, says in his comparative study of
+religions:[1] "When do we feel the blessings of our country more warmly
+and truly than when we return from abroad? It is the same with regard
+to religion." That fact is apparent here! It is an indisputable verity
+that, at the precise period when art and science have attained their
+highest stages of development, the Oberammergau Passion Play enjoys a
+degree of appreciation never bestowed before, that during this critical
+age, from decade to decade, people flock to the Passion Play in ever
+increasing throngs. Not only the uncultivated and ignorant, nay, the
+most cultured--artists and scholars, statesmen and monarchs. The poor
+village no longer has room to shelter all its guests; it is positively
+startling to see the flood of human beings pour in on the evening
+before the commencement of the play, stifling, inundating everything.
+And then it is marvellous to notice how quiet it is on the morning of
+the play, as it flows into the bare room called the theatre, how it
+seems as it were to grow calm, as if every storm within or without was
+subdued under the influence of those simple words, now more than two
+thousand years old. How wonderful it is to watch the people fairly
+holding their breath to listen to the simple drama for seven long hours
+without heeding the time which is far beyond the limit our easily
+wearied nerves are accustomed to bear.
+
+What is it, for whose sake the highest as well as the lowest, the
+richest and the poorest, prince and peasant, would sleep on a layer of
+straw, without a murmur, if no bed could be had? Why will the most
+pampered endure hunger and thirst, the most delicate heat and cold, the
+most timid fearlessly undertake the hard journey across the Ettal
+mountain? Is it mere curiosity to hear a number of poor wood-carvers,
+peasants, and wood-cutters repeat under the open sky, exposed to sun
+and rain, in worse German than is heard at school the same old story
+which has already been told a thousand times, as the enemies of the
+Passion Play say? Would this bring people every ten years from half the
+inhabited world, from far and near, from South and North, from the
+mountains and the valleys, from palaces and huts, across sea and land?
+Certainly not? What is it then? A miracle?
+
+Whoever has seen the Passion Play understands it, but it is difficult
+to explain the mystery to those who have not.
+
+The deity remains concealed from our earthly vision and unattainable,
+like the veiled statue of Sais. Every attempt to raise this veil by
+force is terribly avenged.
+
+What is gained by those modern Socinians and Adorantes who, with
+ill-feigned piety, seek to drag the mystery to light and make the God a
+_human being_, in order to worship in the wretched puppet _themselves_?
+Even if they beheld Him face to face, they would still see themselves
+only, and He would cry: "You are like the spirit which you understand,
+not me."
+
+And what do the Pantheists gain who make man _God_, in order to embrace
+in Him the unattainable? Sooner or later they will perceive that they
+have mistaken the _effects_ for the _cause_, and the form for the
+essence. Loathing and disappointment will be their lot, as it is the
+lot of all who have nothing but--human beings.
+
+But those to whom the visible is only the _symbol_ of the _invisible_
+which teaches them from the effect to learn the cause, will, with
+unerring logical correctness, pass from the form to the essence, from
+the _illusion_ to the _truth_.
+
+_That_ is the marvel of the modern Gethsemane, which this book will
+narrate.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER I.
+
+                               A PHANTOM.
+
+
+Solemn and lofty against the evening sky towers the Kofel, the
+land-mark and protecting rock-bulwark of Oberammergau, bearing aloft
+its solitary cross, like a threatening hand uplifted in menace to
+confront an advancing foe with the symbol of victory.
+
+Twilight is gathering, and the dark shadow of the mighty protector
+stretches far across the quiet valley. The fading glow of sunset casts
+a pallid light upon the simple cross which has stood on the mountain
+peak for centuries, frequently renewed but always of the same size, so
+that it can be seen a long distance off by the throngs who journey
+upward from the valley, gazing longingly across the steep, inhospitable
+mountains toward the goal of the toilsome pilgrimage.
+
+It is Friday. A long line of carriages is winding like a huge serpent
+up the Ettal mountain. Amid the throng, two very handsome landaus are
+especially conspicuous. The first is drawn by four horses in costly
+harnesses adorned with a coronet, which prance gaily in the slow
+progress, as if the ascent of the Ettal mountain was but pastime for
+animals of their breed. In the equipage, which is open, sit a lady and
+a gentleman, pale, listless, uninterested in their surroundings and
+apparently in each other; the second one contains a maid, a man
+servant, and on the box the courier, with the pompous, official manner,
+which proclaims to the world that the family he has the honor of
+serving and in whose behalf he pays the highest prices, is an
+aristocratic one. The mistress of this elegant establishment, spite of
+her downcast eyes and almost lifeless air, is a woman of such
+remarkable beauty that it is apparent even amidst the confusion of
+veils and wraps. Blonde hair, as soft as silk, clusters in rings around
+her brow and diffuses a warm glow over a face white as a tea rose,
+intellectual, yet withal wonderfully, tender and sensuous in its
+outlines. Suddenly, as though curious to penetrate the drooping lids
+and see the eyes they concealed, the sun bursts through a rift in the
+clouds, throwing a golden bridge of rays from mountain to mountain. Now
+the lashes are raised to return the greeting, revealing sparkling dark
+eyes of a mysterious color, varying every instant as they follow the
+shimmering rays that glide along the cliff. Then something flashes from
+a half-concealed cave and the beams linger a moment on a pale face. It
+is an image of Christ carved in wood which, with uplifted hand, bids
+the new comers welcome. But those who are now arriving do not
+understand its language, the greeting remains unanswered.
+
+The sunbeams glide farther on as if saying, "If this is not the Christ
+you are seeking, perhaps it is he?" And now--they stop. On a rugged
+peak, illumined by a halo of light, stands a figure, half concealed by
+the green branches, gazing with calm superiority at the motley, anxious
+crowd below. He has removed his hat and, heated by the rapid walk, is
+wiping the perspiration from his brow. Long black locks parted in the
+middle, float back from a grave, majestic face with a black beard and
+strangely mournful black, far-seeing eyes. The hair, tossed by the
+wind, is caught by a thorny branch which sways above the prematurely
+furrowed brow. The sharp points glow redly in the brilliant sunset
+light, as if crimsoned with blood from the head which rests dreamily
+against the trunk. A tremor runs through the form of the woman below;
+she suddenly sits erect, as though roused from sleep. The wandering
+rays which sought her eyes also lead her gaze to those of the solitary
+man above, and on this golden bridge two sparkling glances meet. Like
+two pedestrians who cannot avoid each other on a narrow path, they look
+and pause. They grasp and hold each other--one must yield, for neither
+will let the other pass.
+
+Then the sunbeam pales, the bridge has fallen, and the apparition
+vanishes in the forest shadows.
+
+"Did you see that?" the lady asked her companion, who had also glanced
+up at the cliff.
+
+"What should I have seen?"
+
+"Why--that--that--" she paused, uncertain what words to choose. She was
+going to say, "that man up there," but the sentence is too prosaic, yet
+she can find no other and says merely, "him up there!" Her companion,
+glancing skyward, shakes his head.
+
+"_Him_ up there! I really believe, Countess, that the air of Ammergau
+is beginning to affect you. Apparently you already have religious
+hallucinations--or we will say, in the language of this hallowed soil,
+heavenly visions!"
+
+The countess leans silently back in her corner--the cold, indifferent
+expression returns to the lips which just parted in so lovely a smile.
+"But what did you see? At least tell me, since I am not fortunate
+enough to be granted such visions," her companion adds with kindly
+irony. "Or was it too sublime to be communicated to such a base
+worldling as I?"
+
+"Yes," she says curtly, covering her eyes with her hand, as if to shut
+out the fading sunset glow in order to recall the vision more
+distinctly. Then she remains silent.
+
+Night gradually closes in, the panting train of horses has reached the
+village. Now the animals are urged into a trot and the drivers turn the
+solemn occasion into a noisy tumult. The vehicles jolt terribly in the
+ruts, the cracking of whips, the rattle of wheels, the screams of
+frightened children and poultry, the barking of dogs, blend in a
+confused din, and that nothing may be wanting to complete it, a howling
+gust of wind sweeps through the village, driving the drifting clouds
+into threatening masses.
+
+"This is all we lacked--rain too!" grumbled the gentleman. "Shall I
+have the carriage closed?"
+
+"No," replied the Countess, opening her umbrella. "Who would have
+thought it; the sun was shining ten minutes ago!"
+
+"Yes, the weather changes rapidly in the mountains. I saw the shower
+rising. While you were admiring some worthy wood-cutter up yonder as a
+heavenly apparition, I was watching the approaching tempest." He draws
+the travelling rug, which has slipped down, closer around the lady and
+himself. "Come what may, I am resigned; when we are in Rome, we must
+follow the Roman customs. Who would not go through fire and water for
+you, Countess?" He tries to take her hand, but cannot find it among the
+shawls and wraps. He bites his lips angrily; he had expected that the
+hand he sought would gratefully meet his in return for so graceful an
+expression of loyalty! Large drops of rain beat into his face.
+
+"Not even a clasp of the hand in return for the infernal journey to
+this peasant hole," he mutters.
+
+The carriages thunder past the church, the flowers and crosses on the
+graves in the quiet church-yard tremble with the shaking of the ground.
+The lamps in the parsonage are already lighted, the priest comes to the
+window and gazes quietly at the familiar spectacle. "Poor travellers!
+Out in such a storm!"
+
+One carriage after another turns down a street or stops before a house.
+The Countess and her companion alone have not yet reached their
+destination. Meantime it has grown perfectly dark. The driver is
+obliged to stop to shut up the carriage and light the lantern, for the
+rain and darkness have become so dense and the travellers are drenched.
+An icy wind, which always accompanies a thunderstorm in the mountain,
+blows into their faces till they can scarcely keep their eyes open. The
+servant, unable to see in the gloom, is clumsy in closing the carriage,
+the hand-bags fall down upon the occupants; the driver can scarcely
+hold the horses, which are frightened by the crowds in pursuit of
+lodgings. He is not familiar with the place and, struggling to restrain
+the plunging four-in-hand, enquires the way in broken sentences from
+the box, and only half catches the answers, which are indistinct in the
+tumult. Meantime the other servants have arrived. The Countess orders
+the courier to drive on with the second carriage and take possession of
+the rooms which have been engaged. The man, supposing it is an easy
+matter to find the way in so small a place, moves forward. The Countess
+can scarcely control her ill humor.
+
+"An abominable journey--the horses overheated by the ascent of the
+mountain and now this storm. And the lamps won't burn, the wind
+constantly blows them out. You were right, Prince, we ought to have
+taken a hired--" She does not finish the sentence, for the ray
+from one of the carriage lamps, which has just been lighted with much
+difficulty, falls upon a swiftly passing figure, which looks almost
+supernaturally tall in the uncertain glimmer. Long, black locks,
+dripping with moisture, are blown by the wind from under his
+broad-brimmed hat. He has evidently been surprised by the storm without
+an umbrella and is hurrying home--not timidly and hastily, like a
+person to whom a few drops of rain, more or less, is of serious
+importance, but rather like one who does not wish to be accosted. The
+countess cannot see his face, he has already passed, but she
+distinguishes the outlines of the slender, commanding figure in the
+dark dress, noticing with a rapid glance the remarkably elastic gait,
+and an involuntary: "There he goes again!" escapes her lips aloud.
+Obeying a sudden impulse, she calls to the servant: "Quick, ask the
+gentleman yonder the way to the house of Andreas Gross, where we are
+going."
+
+The servant follows the retreating figure a few steps and shouts,
+"Here, you--" The stranger pauses a moment, half turns his head, then,
+as if the abrupt summons could not possibly be meant for _him_, moves
+proudly on without glancing back a second time.
+
+The servant timidly returns. A feeling of shame overwhelms the
+countess, as though she had committed the blunder of ordering him to
+address a person of high rank travelling incognito.
+
+"The gentleman wouldn't hear me," says the lackey apologetically, much
+abashed. "Very well," his mistress answers, glad that the darkness
+conceals her blushes. A flash of lightning darts from the sky and a
+sudden peal of thunder frightens the horses. "Drive on," the countess
+commands; the lackey springs on the box, the carriage rolls forward--a
+few yards further and the dark figure once more appears beside the
+vehicle, walking calmly on amid the thunder and lightning, and merely
+turns his head slightly toward the prancing horses.
+
+The equipage dashes by--the countess leans silently back on the
+cushions, and shows no further desire to look out.
+
+"Tell me, Countess Madeleine," asks the gentleman whom she has just
+addressed as 'Prince,' "what troubles you today?"
+
+The countess laughs. "Dear me, how solemnly you put the question! What
+should trouble me?"
+
+"I cannot understand you," the prince continued. "You treat me coldly
+and grow enthusiastic over a vision of the imagination which already
+draws from you the exclamation: 'There he is _again!_' I cannot help
+thinking what an uncertain possession is the favor of a lady whose
+imagination kindles so easily."
+
+"This is charming," the countess tried to jest. "My prince jealous--of
+a phantom?"
+
+"That is just it. If a _phantom_ can produce such variations in the
+temperature of your heart toward me, how must my hopes stand?"
+
+"Dear Prince, you know that whether with or without a phantom, I could
+never yet answer this question which Your Highness frequently
+condescends to ask me."
+
+"I believe, Countess, that one always stands between us! You pursue
+some unknown ideal which you do not find in me, the realist, who has
+nothing to offer you save prosaic facts--his hand, his principality,
+and an affection for which unhappily he lacks poetic phrases."
+
+"You exaggerate, Prince, and are growing severe. There is a touch of
+truth--I am always honest--yet, as you know, you are the most favored
+of all my suitors. Still it is true that an unknown disputes precedence
+with you. This rival is but the man of my imagination--but the world
+contains no one like my ideal, so you have nothing to fear."
+
+"What ideal do you demand, Countess, that no one can attain it?"
+
+"Ah! a very simple one, yet you conventional natures will never
+understand it. It is the simplicity of the lost Paradise to which you
+can never return. I am by nature a lover of the ideal--I am
+enthusiastic and need enthusiasm; but you call me a visionary when I am
+in the most sacred earnest. I yearn for a husband who believes in my
+ideal, I want no one from whom I must conceal it in order to avoid
+ridicule, and thus be unable to be true to my highest self. He whom my
+soul seeks must be at once a man and a child--a man in character and a
+child in heart. But where in our modern life is such a person to be
+found? Where is gentleness without feeble sentimentality? Where is
+there enthusiasm without fantastic vagueness, where simplicity of heart
+without narrowness of mind? Whoever possesses a manly character and a
+strong intellect cannot escape the demands which science and politics
+impose, and this detracts from the emotional life, gives prominent
+development to concrete thought, makes men realistic and critical. But
+of all who suffer from these defects of our time, you are the best,
+Prince!" she adds, smilingly.'
+
+"That is sorry comfort," murmurs the prince. "It is a peculiar thing to
+have an invisible rival; who will guarantee that some person may not
+appear who answers to the description?"
+
+"That is the reason I have not yet given you my consent," replies the
+countess, gravely.
+
+Her companion sighs heavily, makes no reply, but gazes steadfastly into
+the raging storm. Alter a time he says, softly, "If I did not love you
+so deeply, Countess Madeleine--"
+
+"You would not bear with me so long, would you?" asks the countess,
+holding out her hand as if beseeching pardon.
+
+This one half unconscious expression of friendship disarms the
+irritated man.--He bends over the slender little hand and raises it
+tenderly to his lips.
+
+"She must yet be mine!" he says under his breath, by way of
+consolation, like all men whose hopes are doubtful. "I will even dare
+the battle with a phantom."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II.
+
+                             OLD AMMERGAU.
+
+
+At last, alter a long circuit and many enquiries, the goal was gained.
+The dripping, sorely shaken equipage stopped with two wheels in a ditch
+filled with rain water, whose overflow flooded the path to the house.
+The courier and maid seemed to have missed their way, too, for the
+second carriage was not there. People hurried out of the low doorway
+shading small flickering candles with their hands. The countess shrank
+back. What strange faces these peasants had! An old man with a terribly
+hang-dog countenance, long grey hair, a pointed Jewish beard, sharp
+hooked nose, and sparkling eyes! And two elderly women, one short and
+fat, with prominent eyes and black curling hair, the other a tall,
+thin, odd-looking person with tangled coal-black hair, hooked nose, and
+glittering black eyes.
+
+In the mysterious shadows cast by the wavering lights upon the sharply
+cut faces, the whole group looked startlingly like a band of gypsies.
+
+"Oh! are these Ammergau people?" whispered the countess in a
+disappointed tone.
+
+"Does Gross, the wood-carver, live here?" the prince enquired.
+
+"Yes," was the reply. "Gross, the stone-cutter. Have you engaged rooms
+here?"
+
+"We wrote from Tegernsee for lodgings. The Countess von Wildenau,"
+answered the prince.
+
+"Oh yes, yes! Everything is ready! The lady will lodge with us; the
+carriage and servants can go to the old post-house. I have the honor to
+bid you good evening," said the old man. "I am sorry you have had such
+bad weather. But we have a great deal of rain here."
+
+The prince alighted--the water splashed high under his feet.
+
+"Oh Sephi, bring a board, quick; the countess cannot get out here!"
+cried the old man with eager deprecation of the discomfort threatening
+the lady. Sephi, the tall, thin woman, dragged a plank from the garden,
+while a one-eyed dog began to bark furiously.
+
+The plank was laid down, but instantly sunk under the water, and the
+countess was obliged to wade through the flood. As she alighted, she
+felt as if she should strike her head against the edge of the
+overhanging roof--the house was so low. Fresco paintings, dark with
+age, appeared to stretch and writhe in distorted shapes in the
+flickering light. The place seemed more and more dismal to the
+countess.
+
+"Shall I carry you across?" asked the prince.
+
+"Oh no!" she answered reprovingly, while her little foot sought the
+bottom of the pool. The ice-cold water covered her delicate boot to the
+ankle. She had been so full of eager anticipation, in such a poetic
+mood, and prosaic reality dealt her a blow in the face. She shivered as
+she walked silently through the water.
+
+"Come in, your rooms are ready," said the old man cheeringly.
+
+They passed through a kitchen black with myriads of flies, into an
+apartment formerly used as the workshop, now converted into a parlor.
+Two children were asleep on an old torn sofa. In one corner lay sacks
+of straw, prepared for couches, the owners of the house considered it a
+matter of course that they should have no beds during the Passion. A
+smoking kerosene lamp hung from, the dark worm-eaten wooden ceiling,
+diffusing more smoke than light. The room was so low that the countess
+could scarcely stand erect, and besides the ceiling had sunk--in the
+dim, smoke-laden atmosphere the beams threatened to fall at any moment.
+
+A sense of suffocation oppressed the new-comer. She was utterly
+exhausted, chilled, nervous to the verge of weeping. Her white teeth
+chattered. She shivered with cold and discomfort. Her host opened a low
+door into a small room containing two beds, a table, an old-fashioned
+dark cupboard, and two chairs.
+
+"There," he cried in a tone of great satisfaction, "that is your
+chamber. Now you can rest, and if you want anything, you need only call
+and one of my daughters will come in and wait upon you."
+
+"Yes, my good fellow, but where am _I_ to lodge?" asked the prince.
+
+"Oh--then you don't belong together? In that case the countess must
+sleep with another lady, and the gentleman up here."
+
+He pointed to a little stair-case in the corner which, according to the
+custom in old peasant houses, led from one room through a trap-door
+into another directly above it.
+
+"But I can't sleep _there_, it would inconvenience the lady," said the
+prince. "Have you no other rooms?"
+
+"Why yes; but they are engaged for to-morrow," replied Andreas Gross,
+while the two sisters stood staring helplessly.
+
+"Then give me the rooms and send the other people away."
+
+"Oh! I can't do that, sir.--They are promised."
+
+"Good Heavens! Ill pay you twice, ten times as much."
+
+"Why, sir, if you paid me twenty times the price, I could not do it; I
+must not break my promise!" said the old man with gentle firmness.
+
+"Ah," thought the prince, "he wants to screw me--but I'll manage that,
+Countess, excuse me a few minutes while I look for another lodging."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, try to find one for me, too. I would rather spend
+the night in the carriage than stay here!" replied the countess in
+French.
+
+"Yes, it is horrible! but it will not be difficult to find something
+better. Good-bye!" he answered in the same language.
+
+"Don't leave me alone with these people too long. Come back soon; I am
+afraid," she added, still using the French tongue.
+
+"Really?" the prince answered, laughing; but a ray of pleasure sparkled
+in his eyes.
+
+Meanwhile, the little girl who was asleep on the sofa had waked and now
+came into the room.
+
+The countess requested every one to retire that she might rest, and the
+peasants modestly withdrew. But when she tried to fasten the door, it
+had neither lock nor bolt, only a little wire hook which slipped into a
+loose ring.
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed, startled. "I cannot lock it."
+
+"You need have no anxiety," replied the old man soothingly, "we sleep
+in the next room." But the vicinity of those strange people, when she
+could not lock the door, was exactly what the countess feared.
+
+She slipped the miserable wire hook into its fastening and sat down on
+one of the beds, which had no mattresses--nothing but sacking.
+
+Covering her face with her hands, she gave free course to indignant
+tears. She still wore her hat and cloak, which she had not ventured to
+take off, from a vague feeling of being encompassed by perils whence
+she might need to fly at any moment. In such a situation, surely it was
+safer not to lay aside one's wraps. If the worst came, she would remain
+so all night. To go to bed in a house where the roof might fall and
+such strange figures were stealing about, was too great a risk. Beside
+the bed on which the countess sat was a door, which, amid all the
+terrors, she had not noticed. Now it seemed as though she heard a
+scraping noise like the filing of iron. Then came hollow blows and a
+peculiar rattling. Horrible, incomprehensible sounds! Now a blow fell
+upon the door, whose fastening was little better than the other. And
+now another.
+
+"The very powers of hell are let loose here," cried the countess,
+starting up. Her cold, wet feet seemed paralyzed, her senses were on
+the verge of failing. And she was alone in this terrible strait. Where
+were the servants? Perhaps they had been led astray, robbed and
+murdered--and meanwhile the storm outside was raging in all its fury.
+
+There came another attempt to burst the door which, under two crashing
+blows, began to yield. The countess, as if in a dream, rushed to the
+workshop and, almost fainting, called to her aid the uncanny people
+there--one terror against another. With blanched lips she told them
+that some one had entered the house, that some madman or fugitive from
+justice was trying to get in.
+
+"Oh! that is nothing," said Andreas, with what seemed to the terrified
+woman a fiendish smile, and walking straight to the door, while the
+countess shrieked aloud, opened it, and--a head was thrust in. A mild,
+big, stupid face stared at the light with wondering eyes and snorted
+from wide pink nostrils at the strange surroundings. A bay horse--a
+good-natured cart horse occupied the next room to the Countess
+Wildenau!
+
+"You see the criminal. He is a cribber, that is the cause of the
+horrible noises you heard."
+
+The trembling woman stared at the mild, stupid equine face as though it
+was a heavenly vision--yet spite of her relief and much as she loved
+horses, she could not have gone to bed comfortably, since as the door
+was already half broken down by the elephantine hoofs of the worthy
+brute, there was a chance that during the night, lured by the aromatic
+odor of the sea-weed, which formed the stuffing of the bed, the bay
+might mistake the countess' couch for a manger and rouse her somewhat
+rudely with his snuffing muzzle.
+
+"Oh, we'll make that all right at once," said Andreas. "We'll fasten
+him so that he can't get free again, and the carter comes at four in
+the morning, then you will not be disturbed any more."
+
+"After not having closed my eyes all night," murmured the countess,
+following the old man to see that he fastened the horse securely. Yes,
+the room which opened from here by a door with neither lock nor
+threshold was a stable. Several frightened hens flew from the
+straw--this, too. "When the horse has left the stable the cocks will
+begin to crow. What a night after the fatigues of the day!" The old man
+smiled with irritating superiority, and said:
+
+"Yes, that is the way in the country."
+
+"No, I won't stay here--I would rather spend the night in the carriage.
+How can people exist in this place, even for a day," thought the
+countess.
+
+"Won't you have something to eat? Shall my daughter make a
+schmarren?"[2]
+
+"A schmarren! In that kitchen, with those flies." The countess felt a
+sense of loathing.
+
+"No, thank you." Even if she was starving, she could not eat a mouthful
+in this place.
+
+The bay was at last tied and, for want of other occupation, continued
+to gnaw his crib and to suck the air, a proceeding terribly trying to
+the nerves of his fair neighbor in the next room. At last--oh joy,
+deliverance--the second carriage rattled up to the house, bringing the
+maid and the courier.
+
+"Come in, come in!" called the countess from the window. "Don't have
+any of the luggage taken off. I shall not stay here."
+
+The two servants entered with flushed faces.
+
+"Where in the world have you been so long?" asked their mistress,
+imperiously, glad to be able, at last, to vent her ill-humor on some
+one.
+
+"The driver missed the way," stammered the courier, casting a side
+glance at the blushing maid. The countess perceived the situation at a
+glance and was herself again. Fear and timidity, all her nervous
+weakness vanished before the pride of the offended mistress, who had
+been kept waiting an hour, at whose close the tardy servants entered
+with faces whose confusion plainly betrayed that so long a delay was
+needless.
+
+She drew herself up to her full height, feminine fears forgotten in the
+pride of the lady of rank.
+
+"Courier, you are dismissed--not another word!"
+
+"Then I beg Your Highness to discharge me, too," said the excited maid,
+thus betraying herself. A contemptuous glance from the countess rested
+upon the culprit, but without hesitation, she said, quietly:
+
+"Very well. You can both go to the steward for your wages. Good
+evening."
+
+Both left the room pale and silent. They had not expected this
+dismissal, but they knew their mistress' temper and were aware that not
+another word would be allowed, that no excuse or entreaty would avail.
+The countess, too, was in no pleasant mood. She was left here--without
+a maid. For the first time in her life she would be obliged to wait
+upon herself, unpack all those huge trunks and bags. How could she do
+it? She was so cold and so weary, too, and she did not even know which
+of the numerous bags contained dry shoes and stockings. Was she to pull
+out everything, when she must do the repacking herself? For now she
+must certainly go to another house, among civilized people, where she
+could have servants and not be so utterly alone. Oh, if only she had
+not come to this Ammergau--it was a horrible place! One would hardly
+purchase the salvation of the world at the cost of such an evening. It
+was terrible to be in this situation--and without a maid!
+
+And, as trivial things find even the loftiest women fainthearted
+because they are matters of nerve, and not of character, the lady who
+had just confronted her servants so haughtily sank down on the bed
+again and wept like a child.
+
+Some one tapped lightly on the door of the workshop. The countess
+opened it, and the short, stout sister timidly entered.
+
+"Pardon me, Your Highness, we have just heard that you have discharged
+your maid and courier, so I wanted to ask whether my sister or I could
+be of any service? Perhaps we might unpack a little?"
+
+"Thank you--I don't wish to spend the night here and hope that my
+companion will bring news that he has found other accommodations. I
+will pay whatever you ask, but I can't possibly stay. Ask your father
+what he charges, I'll give whatever you wish--only let me go."
+
+The old man was summoned.
+
+"Why certainly, Countess, you can be entirely at ease on that score; if
+you don't like staying with us, that need not trouble you. You will
+have nothing to pay--only you must be quick or you will find no
+lodgings, they are very hard to get now."
+
+"Yes, but you must have some compensation. Just tell me what I am to
+give."
+
+"Nothing, Countess. We do not receive payment for what is not eaten!"
+replied Andreas Gross with such impressive firmness that the lady
+looked at him in astonishment. "The Ammergau people do not make a
+business of renting lodgings, Countess; that is done only by the
+foreign speculators who wish to make a great deal of money at this
+time, and alas! bring upon Ammergau the reputation of extortion! We
+natives of the village do it for the sake of having as many guests
+witness the play as possible, and are glad if we meet our expenses. We
+expect nothing more."
+
+The countess suddenly saw the "hang-dog" face in a very different
+light! It must have been the dusk which had deceived her. She now
+thought it an intellectual and noble one, nay the wrinkled countenance,
+the long grey locks, and clear, penetrating eyes had an aspect of
+patriarchal dignity. She suddenly realized that these people must have
+had the masks which their characters require bestowed by nature, not
+painted with rouge, and thus the traits of the past unconsciously
+became impressed upon the features. In the same way, among professional
+actors, the performer who takes character roles can easily be
+distinguished from the lover.
+
+"Do you act too?" she asked with interest.
+
+"I act Dathan, the Jewish trader," he said proudly. "I have been in the
+Play sixty years, for when I was a child three years old I sat in Eve's
+lap in the tableaux." The countess could not repress a smile and old
+Andreas' face also brightened.
+
+The little girl, a daughter of the short, plump woman, peeped through
+the half open door, gazing with sparkling eyes at the lovely lady.
+
+"Whose child is the little one?" asked the countess, noticing her soft
+curb and beaming eyes.
+
+"She is my grand-daughter, the child of my daughter, Anna. Her father
+was a foreigner. He ran away, leaving his wife and two children in
+poverty. So I took them all three into my house again."
+
+The countess looked at the old man's thin, worn figure, and then at the
+plump mother and child.
+
+"Who supports them?"
+
+"Oh, we help one another," replied Andreas evasively. "We all work
+together. My son, the drawing teacher, does a great deal for us, too.
+We could not manage without him." Then interrupting himself with a
+startled look, as if he might have been overheard, he added, "but I
+ought not to have said that--he would be very angry if he knew."
+
+"You appear to be a little afraid of your son," said the countess.
+
+"Yes, yes--he is strict, very strict and proud, but a good son."
+
+The old man's eyes sparkled with love and pride.
+
+"Where is he?" asked the countess eagerly.
+
+"Oh, he never allows strangers to see him if he can avoid it."
+
+"Does he act, too?"
+
+"No; he arranges the tableaux, and it needs the ability of a field
+marshal, for he is obliged to command two or three hundred people, and
+he keeps them together and they obey him as though he was a general."
+
+"He must be a very interesting person."
+
+At that moment the prince's step was heard in the sitting-room.
+
+"May I come in?"
+
+"Yes, Prince."
+
+He entered, dripping with rain.
+
+"I found nothing except one little room for myself, in a hut even worse
+than this. All the large houses are filled to overflowing. Satan
+himself brought us among these confounded peasants!" he said angrily in
+French.
+
+"Don't speak so," replied the countess earnestly in the same language.
+"They are saints." The little girl whispered to her mother.
+
+"Please excuse me, Sir; but my child understands French and has just
+told me that you could get no room for the lady," said Andreas'
+daughter timidly. "I know where there is one in a very pretty house
+near by. I will run over as quickly as I can and see if it is still
+vacant. If you could secure it you would find it much better than
+ours." She hurried towards the door.
+
+"Stop, woman," called the prince, "you cannot possibly go out; the rain
+is pouring in torrents, and another shower is rising."
+
+"Yes, stay," cried the countess, "wait till the storm is over."
+
+"Oh, no! lodgings are being taken every minute, we must not lose an
+instant." The next moment she threw a shawl over her head and left the
+house. She was just running past the low window--a vivid flash of
+lightning illumined the room, making the little bent figure stand forth
+like a silhouette. A peal of thunder quickly followed.
+
+"The storm is just over us," said the prince with kindly anxiety. "We
+ought not to have let her go."
+
+"Oh, it is of no consequence," said the old man smiling, "she is glad
+to do it."
+
+"Tell me about these strange people," the prince began, but the
+countess motioned to him that the child understood French. He looked at
+her with a comical expression as if he wanted to say: "These are queer
+'natives' who give their children so good an education."
+
+The countess went to the window, gazing uneasily at the raging storm. A
+feeling of self-reproach stole into her heart for having let the kind
+creature go out amid this uproar of the elements. Especially when these
+people would take no compensation and therefore lost a profit, if
+another lodging was found.
+
+It was her loss, and yet she showed this cheerful alacrity.
+
+The little party had now entered the living room. The countess sat on
+the window sill, while flash after flash of lightning blazed, and peal
+after peal crashed from the sky. She no longer thought of herself, only
+of the poor woman outside. The little girl wept softly over her poor
+mother's exposure to the storm, and slipped to the door to wait for
+her. The prince, shivering, sat on the bench by the stove. Gross,
+noticing it, put on more fuel "that the gentleman might dry himself." A
+bright fire was soon crackling in the huge green stove, the main
+support of the sunken ceiling.
+
+"Pray charge the fuel to me," said the prince, ashamed.
+
+The old man smiled.
+
+"How you gentle-folks want to pay for everything. We should have needed
+a fire ourselves." With these words he left the room. The thin sister
+now thought it desirable not to disturb the strangers and also went
+out.
+
+"Tell me, Countess," the prince began, leaning comfortably against the
+warm stove, "may I perfume this, by no means agreeable, atmosphere with
+a cigarette?"
+
+"Certainly, I had forgotten that there were such things as cigarettes
+in the world."
+
+"So it seems to me," said the prince, coolly. "Tell me, _chere amie_,
+now that you have duly enjoyed all the tremors of this romantic
+situation, how should you like a cup of tea?"
+
+"Tea?" said the countess, looking at him as if just roused from a
+dream, "tea!"
+
+"Yes, tea," persisted the prince. "My poor friend, you must have lived
+an eternity in this one hour among these 'savages' to have already lost
+the memory of one of the best products of civilization."
+
+"Tea," repeated the countess, who now realized her exhaustion, "that
+would be refreshing, but I don't know how to get it, I sent the maid
+away."
+
+"Yes, I met the dismissed couple in a state of utter despair. And I can
+imagine that my worshipped Countess Madeleine--the most pampered and
+spoiled of all the children of fortune and the fashionable world--does
+not know how to help herself. I am by no means sorry, for I shall
+profit by it. I can now pose as a kind Providence. What good luck for a
+lover! is it not? So permit me to supply the maid's place--so far as
+this is _practicable_. I have tea with me and my valet whom, thank
+Heaven, I was not obliged to send away, is waiting your order to serve
+it."
+
+"How kind you are, Prince. But consider that kitchen filled with
+flies."
+
+"Oh, you need not feel uncomfortable on that score. You are evidently
+unused to the mountains. I know these flies, they are different from
+our city ones and possess a peculiar skill in keeping out of food. Try
+it for once."
+
+"Yes, but we must first ascertain whether I can get the other room,"
+said the countess, again lapsing into despondency.
+
+"My dearest Countess, does that prevent our taking any refreshment?
+Don't be so spiritless," said the prince laughing.
+
+"Oh, it's all very well to laugh. The situation is tragical enough, I
+assure you."
+
+"Tragical enough to pay for the trouble of developing a certain
+grandeur of soul, but not, in true womanly fashion, to lose all
+composure."
+
+The prince shook the ashes from his cigarette and went to the door to
+order the valet to serve the tea. When he returned, the countess
+suddenly came to meet him, held out her hand, and said with a
+bewitching smile:
+
+"Prince, you are charming to-day, and I am unbearable. I thank you for
+the patience you have shown."
+
+"Madeleine," he replied, controlling his emotion, "if I did not know
+your kind heart, I should believe you a Circe, who delighted in driving
+men mad. Were it not for my cold, sober reason, which you always
+emphasize, I should now mistake for love the feeling which makes you
+meet me so graciously, and thus expose myself to disappointment. But
+reason plainly shows that it is merely the gratitude of a kind heart
+for a trivial service rendered in an unpleasant situation, and I am too
+proud to do, in earnest, what I just said in jest--profit by the
+opportunity."
+
+The countess, chilled and ashamed, drew her hand back. There spoke the
+dry, prosaic, commonplace man. Had he _now_ understood how to profit by
+her mood when, in her helpless condition, he appeared as a deliverer in
+the hour of need, who knows what might have happened! But this was
+precisely what he disdained. The experienced man of the world knew
+women well enough to be perfectly aware how easily one may be won in a
+moment of nervous depression, desperate perplexity and helplessness,
+yet though ever ready to enjoy every piquant situation, nevertheless or
+perhaps for that very reason he was too proud to owe to an accident of
+this kind the woman whom he had chosen for the companion of his life.
+The countess felt this and was secretly glad that he had spared her and
+himself a disappointment.
+
+"That is the way with women," he said softly, gazing at her with an
+almost compassionate expression. "For the mess of pottage of an
+agreeable situation, they will sell the birthright of their most sacred
+feelings."
+
+"That is a solemn, bitter truth, such as I am not accustomed to hear
+from your lips, Prince. But however deep may be the gulf of realism
+whence you have drawn this experience, you shall not find it confirmed
+in me."
+
+"That is, you will punish me henceforth by your coldness, while you
+know perfectly well that it was the sincerity of my regard for you
+which prompted my act, Countess, that vengeance would be unworthy; a
+woman like you ought not to sink to the petty sensitiveness of ordinary
+feminine vanity."
+
+"Oh, Prince, you are always right, and, believe me, if I carried my
+heart in my _head_ instead of in my breast, that is, if we could love
+with the _intellect_, I should have been yours long ago, but alas, my
+friend, it is so _far_ from the head to the heart."
+
+The Prince lighted another cigarette. No one could detect what was
+passing in his mind. "So much the worse for me!" he said coldly,
+shrugging his shoulders.
+
+At that moment a sheet of flame filled the room, and the crashing
+thunder which followed sounded as if the ceiling had fallen and buried
+everything under it. The countess seemed bewildered.
+
+"Mother, mother!" shrieked a voice outside. People gathered in the
+street, voices were heard, shouts, hurrying footsteps and the weeping
+of the little girl. The prince sprang out of the window, the countess
+regained her consciousness--of what?
+
+"Some one has been struck by lightning." She hastened out.
+
+A senseless figure was brought in and laid on the bench in the entry.
+It was the kind-hearted little creature whom her caprice had sent into
+the storm--perhaps to her death. There she lay silent and pale, with
+closed lids; her hands were cold her features sharp and rigid like
+those of a corpse, but her heart still throbbed under her drenched
+gown. The countess asked the prince to bring cologne and smelling salts
+from her satchel and skillfully applied the remedies; the prince helped
+her rub the arteries while she strove to restore consciousness with the
+sharp essences. Meanwhile the other sister soothed the weeping child.
+Andreas Gross poured a few drops of some liquid from a dusty flask into
+the sufferer's mouth, saying quietly, "You must not be so much
+frightened, I am something of a doctor; it is only a severe fainting
+fit. The other is worse."
+
+"Were two persons struck?" asked the countess in horror.
+
+"Yes, one of the musicians, the first violin."
+
+A sudden thought darted through the countess' brain, and a feeling of
+dread stole over her as if there was in Ammergau a beloved life for
+which she must tremble. Yet she knew no one.
+
+"Please bring a shawl from my room," she said to the prince, and when
+he had gone, she asked quickly: "Tell me, is the musician tall?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"Has he long black hair?"
+
+"No, he is fair," replied the old man.
+
+The countess, with a feeling of relief, remained silent, the prince
+returned. The sick woman opened her eyes and a faint moan escaped her
+lips.
+
+"Here will be a fine scene," thought the prince. "Plenty of capital can
+be made out of such a situation. My lovely friend will outweigh every
+tear with a gold coin."
+
+After a short time the woman regained sufficient consciousness to
+realize her surroundings and tried to lift her feet from the bench.
+"Oh, Countess, you will tax yourself too much. Please go in, there is a
+strong draught here."
+
+"Yes, but you must come with me," said the countess, "try whether you
+can use your feet."
+
+It was vain, she tried to take a step, but her feet refused to obey her
+will.
+
+"Alas!" cried the countess deeply moved. "She is paralyzed--and it is
+my fault."
+
+Anna gently took her hand and raised it to her lips. "Pray don't
+distress yourself, Countess, it will pass away. I am only sorry that I
+have caused you such a fright." She tried to smile, the ugly face
+looked actually beautiful at that moment, and the tones of her voice,
+whose tremor she strove to conceal, was so touching as she tried to
+comfort and soothe the self-reproach of the woman who had caused the
+misfortune that tears filled the countess' eyes.
+
+"How wise she is," said the prince, marvelling at such delicacy and
+feeling.
+
+"Come," said the countess, "we must get her into the warm rooms."
+
+Andreas Gross, and at a sign from the prince, the valet, carried the
+sick woman in and laid her on the bench by the stove. The countess held
+her icy hand, while tears streamed steadily down the sufferer's cheeks.
+
+"Do you feel any pain?" asked the lady anxiously.
+
+"No, oh no--but I can't help weeping because the Countess is so kind to
+me--I am in no pain--no indeed!" She smiled again, the touching smile
+which seeks to console others.
+
+"Yes, yes," said the old man, "you need not be troubled, she will be
+well to-morrow."
+
+The child laid her head lovingly on her mother's breast, a singularly
+peaceful atmosphere pervaded the room, a modest dignity marked the
+bearing of the poor peasants. The prince and the countess also sat in
+thoughtful silence. Suddenly the sick woman started up, "Oh dear, I
+almost forget the main thing. The lady can have the lodgings. Two very
+handsome rooms and excellent attendance, but the countess must go at
+once as soon as the shower is over. They will be kept only an hour.
+More people will arrive at ten."
+
+"I thank you," said the countess with a strange expression.
+
+"Oh, there is no need. I am only glad I secured the rooms, and that the
+countess can have attendance," replied the sick woman joyously. "I
+shall soon be better, then I'll show the way."
+
+"I thank you," repeated the countess earnestly. "I do not want the
+rooms, I shall _stay here_."
+
+"What are you going to do?" asked the prince in amazement.
+
+"Yes, I am ashamed that I was so foolish this evening. Will you keep
+me, you kind people, after I have done you so much injustice, and
+caused you such harm."
+
+"Oh! you must consult your own pleasure. We shall be glad to have you
+stay with us, but we shall take no offence, if it would be more
+pleasant for you elsewhere," said the old man with unruffled kindness.
+
+"Then I will stay."
+
+"That is a good decision, Countess," said the prince. "You always do
+what is right." He beckoned to Sephi, the thin sister, and whispered a
+few words. She vanished in the countess' room, returning in a short
+time with dry shoes and stockings, which she had found in one of the
+travelling satchels. The prince went to the window and stood there with
+his back turned to the room. "We must do the best that opportunity
+permits," he said energetically. "I beg your highness to let this lady
+change your shoes and stockings. I am answerable for your health, not
+only to myself, but to society."
+
+The countess submitted to the prince's arrangement, and the little
+ice-cold feet slid comfortably into the dry coverings, which Sephi had
+warmed at the stove. She now felt as if she was among human beings and
+gradually became more at ease. After Sephi had left the room she walked
+proudly up to the prince in her dry slippers, and said: "Come, Prince,
+let us pace to and fro, that our chilled blood may circulate once
+more."
+
+The prince gracefully offered his arm and led her up and down the long
+work-shop. Madeleine was bewitching at that moment, and the grateful
+expression of her animated face suited her to a charm.
+
+"I must go," he thought, "or I shall be led into committing some folly
+which will spoil all my chances with her."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+
+                            YOUNG AMMERGAU.
+
+
+The valet served the tea. The prince had provided for everything,
+remembered everything. He had even brought English biscuits.
+
+The little repast exerted a very cheering influence upon the depressed
+spirits of the countess. But she took the first cup to the invalid who,
+revived by the unaccustomed stimulant, rose at once, imagining that a
+miracle had been wrought, for she could walk again. The Gross family
+now left the room. The prince and the countess sipped their tea in
+silence. What were they to say when the valet, who always accompanied
+his master on his journeys, understood all the languages which the
+countess spoke fluently?
+
+The prince was grave and thoughtful. After they had drank the tea, he
+kissed her hand. "Let me go now--we must both have rest, you for your
+nerves and I for my feelings. I wish you a good night's sleep."
+
+"Prince, I can say that you have been infinitely charming to-day, and
+have risen much in my esteem."
+
+"I am glad to hear it, Countess, though a trifle depressed by the
+consciousness that I owe this favor to a cup of tea and a pair of dry
+slippers," replied the prince with apparent composure. Then he took his
+hat and left the room.
+
+And this is love? thought the countess, shrugging her shoulders. What
+was she to do? She did not feel at all inclined to sleep. People are
+never more disposed to chat than after hardships successfully endured.
+She had had her tea, had been warmed, served, and tended. For the first
+time since her arrival she was comfortable, and now she must go to bed.
+At ten o'clock in the evening, the hour when she usually drove from the
+theatre to some evening entertainment.
+
+The prince had gone and the Gross family came in to ask if she wanted
+anything more.
+
+"No, but you are ready to go to bed, and I ought to return to my room,
+should I not?" replied the countess.
+
+Just at that moment the door was flung open and a head like the bronze
+cast of the bust of a Roman emperor appeared. A face which in truth
+seemed as if carved from bronze, keen eagle eyes, a nose slightly
+hooked, an imperious, delicately moulded brow, short hair combed
+upward, and an expression of bitter, sad, but irresistible energy on
+the compressed lips. As the quick eyes perceived the countess, the head
+was drawn back with the speed of lightning. But old Gross, proud of his
+son, called him back.
+
+"Come in, come in and be presented to this lady, people don't run away
+so."
+
+The young man, somewhat annoyed, returned.
+
+"My son, Ludwig, principal of the drawing school," said old Gross.
+Ludwig's artist eyes glided over the countess; she felt the glance of
+the connoisseur, knew, that he could appreciate her beauty. What a
+delight to see herself, among these simple folk, suddenly reflected in
+an artist's eyes and find that the picture came back beautiful. How
+happened so exquisite a crystal, which can be polished only in the
+workshops of the highest education and art, to be in such surroundings?
+The countess noted with ever increasing amazement the striking face and
+the proud poise of the head on the small, compact, yet classically
+formed figure. She knew at the first moment that this was a man in the
+true sense of the word, and she gave him her hand as though greeting an
+old acquaintance from the kingdom of the ideal. It seemed as if she
+must ask: "How do you come here?"
+
+Ludwig Gross read the question on her lips. He possessed the vision
+from which even the thoughts must be guarded, or he would guess them.
+
+"I must ask your pardon for disturbing you. I have just come from the
+meeting and only wanted to see my sister. I heard she was ill."
+
+"Oh, I feel quite well again," the latter answered.
+
+"Yes," said the countess in a somewhat embarrassed tone, "you will be
+vexed with the intruder who has brought so much anxiety and alarm into
+your house? I reproach myself for being so foolish as to have wanted
+another lodging, but at first I thought that the ceiling would fall
+upon me, and I was afraid."
+
+"Oh, I understand that perfectly when persons are not accustomed to low
+rooms. It was difficult for me to become used to them again when I
+returned from Munich."
+
+"You were at the Academy?"
+
+"Yes, Countess."
+
+"Will you not take off your wet coat and sit down?"
+
+"I should not like to disturb you, Countess."
+
+"But you won't disturb me at all; come, let us have a little chat."
+
+Ludwig Gross laid his hat and overcoat aside, took a chair, and sat
+down opposite to the lady. Just at that moment a carriage drove up. The
+strangers who had engaged the rooms refused to the prince had arrived,
+and the family hastened out to receive and help them. The countess and
+Ludwig were left alone.
+
+"What were you discussing at so late an hour?" asked the countess.
+
+"Dore sent us this evening two engravings of his two Passion pictures;
+he is interested in our play, so we were obliged to discuss the best
+way of expressing our gratitude and to decide upon the place where they
+shall be hung. There is no time for such consultations during the day."
+
+"Are you familiar with all of Dore's pictures?"
+
+"Certainly, Countess."
+
+"And do you like him?"
+
+"I admire him. I do not agree with him in every particular, but he is a
+genius, and genius has a right to forgiveness for faults which
+mediocrity should never venture to commit, and indeed never will."
+
+"Very true," replied the lady.
+
+"I think," Ludwig Gross continued, "that he resembles Hamerling. There
+is kinship between the two men. Hamerling, too, repels us here and
+there, but with him, as with Dore, every line and every stroke flashes
+with that electric spark which belongs only to the genuine work of
+art."
+
+His companion gazed at him in amazement.
+
+"You have read Hamerling?"
+
+"Certainly. Who is not familiar with his 'Ahasuerus?'"[3]
+
+"I, for instance," she replied with a faint blush.
+
+"Oh, Countess, you must read it. There is a vigor, an acerbity, the
+repressed anguish and wrath of a noble nature against the pitifulness
+of mankind, which must impress every one upon whose soul the questions
+of life have ever cast their shadows, though I know not whether this is
+the case with you."
+
+"More than is perhaps supposed," she answered, drawing a long breath.
+"We are all pessimists, but Hamerling must be a stronger one than is
+well for a poet."
+
+"That is not quite correct," replied Ludwig. "He is a pessimist just so
+far as accords with the poesy of our age. Did not Auerbach once say:
+'Pessimism is the grief of the world, which has no more tears!' This
+applies to Hamerling, also. His poetry has that bitter flavor, which is
+required by a generation that has passed the stage when sweets please
+the palate and tears relieve the heart."
+
+"Your words are very true. But how do you explain--it would be
+interesting to hear from you--how do you explain, in this mood of the
+times, the attraction which draws such throngs to the Passion Play?"
+
+Ludwig Gross leaned back in his chair, and his stern brow relaxed under
+the bright influence of a beautiful thought.
+
+"One extreme, as is well known, follows another. The human heart will
+always long for tears, and the world's tearless anguish will therefore
+yield to a gentler mood. I think that the rush to our simple play is a
+symptom of this change. People come here to learn to weep once more."
+
+The countess rested her clasped hands on the table and gazed long and
+earnestly at Ludwig Gross. Her whole nature was kindled, her eyes
+lingered admiringly upon the modest little man, who did not seem at all
+conscious of his own superiority. "To learn to _weep_!" she repeated,
+nodding gently. "Yes, we might all need that. But do you believe we
+shall learn it here?"
+
+Ludwig Gross gazed at her smiling. "You will not ask that question at
+this hour on the evening of the day after tomorrow."
+
+He seemed to her a physician who possessed a remedy which he knows
+_cannot_ fail. And she began to trust him like a physician.
+
+"May I be perfectly frank?" she asked in a winning tone.
+
+"I beg that you will be so, Countess."
+
+"I am surprised to find a man like you here. I had not supposed there
+were such people in the village. But you were away a long time, you are
+probably no longer a representative citizen of Ammergau?"
+
+Ludwig Gross raised his head proudly. "Certainly I am, Countess. If
+there was ever a true citizen of Ammergau, I am one. Learn to know us
+better, and you will soon be convinced that we are all of one mind.
+Though one has perhaps learned more than another, that is a mere
+accident; the same purpose, the same idea, unites us all."
+
+"But what binds men of such talent to this remote village? Are you
+married?"
+
+The bitter expression around the artist's mouth deepened as though cut
+by some invisible instrument. "No, Countess, my circumstances do not
+permit it; I have renounced this happiness."
+
+The lady perceived that she had touched a sensitive spot, but she
+desired to probe the wound to learn whether it might be healed. "Is
+your salary so small that you could not support a family?"
+
+"If I wish to aid my own family, and that is certainly my first duty, I
+cannot found a home."
+
+"How is that possible. Does so rich a community pay its teacher so
+poorly?"
+
+"It does as well as it can, Countess. It has fixed a salary of twelve
+hundred marks for my position; that is all that can be expected."
+
+"For this place, yes. But if you were in Munich, you would easily
+obtain twice or three times as much."
+
+"Even five times," answered Ludwig, smiling. "I had offers from two
+art-industrial institutes, one of which promised a salary of four
+thousand, the other of six thousand marks per annum. But that did not
+matter when the most sacred duties to my home were concerned."
+
+"But these are superhuman sacrifices. Who can expect you to banish
+yourself here and resign everything which the world outside would
+lavish upon you in the richest measure? Everyone must consider himself
+first."
+
+"Why, Countess, Ammergau would die out if everybody was of that
+opinion."
+
+"Oh! let those remain who are suited to the place, who have learned and
+can do nothing more. But men of talent and education, like you, who can
+claim something better, belong outside."
+
+"On the contrary, Countess, they belong here," Ludwig eagerly answered.
+"What would become of the Passion Play if all who have learned and can
+do something should go away, and only the uneducated and the ignorant
+remain? Do you suppose that there are not a number of people here, who,
+according to your ideas, would have deserved 'a better fate?' We have
+enough of them, but go among us and learn whether any one complains. If
+he should, he would be unworthy the name of a son of Ammergau!" He
+paused a moment, his bronzed face grew darker. "Do you imagine," he
+added, "that we could perform such a work, perform it in a manner
+which, in some degree, fulfills the aesthetic demand of modern taste,
+without possessing, in our midst, men of intellect and culture? It is
+bad enough that necessity compels many a talented native of Ammergau to
+seek his fortune outside, but the man to whom his home still gives even
+a bit of _bread_ must be content with it, and without thinking of what
+he might have gained outside, devote his powers to the ideal interests
+of his fellow citizens."
+
+"That is a grand and noble thought, but I don't understand why you
+speak as if the people of Ammergau were so poor. What becomes of the
+vast sums gained by the Passion Play?"
+
+Ludwig Gross smiled bitterly. "I expected that question, it comes from
+all sides. The Passion Play does not enrich individuals, for the few
+hundred marks, more or less, which each of the six hundred actors
+receives, do not cover the deficit of all the work which the people
+must neglect. The revenue is partly consumed by the expenses, partly
+used for the common benefit, for schools and teachers. The principal
+sums are swallowed by the Leine and the Ammer! The ravages of these
+malicious mountain streams require means which our community could
+never raise, save for the receipts of the Passion Play, and even these
+are barely sufficient for the most needful outlay."
+
+"Is it possible? Those little streams!" cried the countess.
+
+"Would flood all Ammergau," Gross answered, "if we did not constantly
+labor to prevent it. We should be a poor, stunted people, worn down by
+fever, our whole mountain valley would be a desolate swamp. The Passion
+Play alone saves us from destruction--the Christ who once ruled the
+waves actually holds back from us the destroying element which would
+gradually devour land and people. But, for that very reason, the
+individual has learned here, as perhaps nowhere else in the world, to
+live and sacrifice himself for the community! The community is
+comprised to us in the idea of the Passion Play. We know that our
+existence depends upon it, even our intellectual life, for it protects
+us from the savagery into which a people continually struggling with
+want and need so easily lapses. It raises us above the common herd,
+gives even the poorest man an innate dignity and self-respect, which
+never suffer him to sink to base excesses."
+
+"I understand that," the countess answered.
+
+"Then can you wonder that not one of us hesitates to devote property,
+life, and every power of his soul to this work of saving our home, our
+poor, oppressed home, ever forced to straggle for its very existence?"
+
+"What a man!" the countess involuntarily exclaimed aloud. Ludwig Gross
+had folded his arms across his breast, as if to restrain the pulsations
+of his throbbing heart. His whole being thrilled with the deepest,
+noblest emotions. He rose and took his hat, like a person whose
+principle it is to shut every emotion within his own bosom, and when a
+mighty one overpowers him, to hide himself that he may also hide the
+feeling.
+
+"No," cried the countess, "you must not leave me so, you rare,
+noble-hearted man. You have just done me the greatest service which can
+be rendered. You have made my heart leap with joy at the discovery of a
+_genuine_ human being. Ah! it is a cordial in this world of
+conventional masks! Give me your hand! I am beginning to understand why
+Providence sent me here. That must indeed be a great cause which rears
+such men and binds such powers in its service."
+
+Ludwig Gross once more stood calm and quiet before her. "I thank you,
+Countess, in the name of the cause for which I live and die."
+
+"And, in the name of that cause, which I do not understand, yet dimly
+apprehend, I beg you, let us be friends. Will you? Clasp hands upon
+it."
+
+A kindly expression flitted over the grave man's iron countenance, and
+he warmly grasped the little hand.
+
+"With all my heart, Countess."
+
+She held the small, slender artist-hand in a close clasp, mournfully
+reading in the calm features of the stern, noble face the story of
+bitter suffering and sacrifice graven upon it.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV.
+
+                        EXPELLED FROM THE PLAY.
+
+
+The storm had spent its fury, the winds sung themselves softly to
+sleep, a friendly face looked down between the dispersing clouds and
+cast its mild light upon the water, now gradually flowing away. The
+swollen brooks rolled like molten silver--cold, glittering veins of the
+giant mountain body, whose crown of snow bestowed by the tempest
+glimmered with argent lustre in the pallid moonbeams. A breeze, chill
+and strengthening as the icy breath of eternity, sweeping from the
+white glaciers, entered the little window against which the countess
+was dreamily leaning.
+
+Higher and higher rose the moon, more and more transfigured and
+transparent became the mountains, as if they were no longer compact
+masses, only the spiritual image of themselves as it may have hovered
+before the divine creative mind, ere He gave them material form.
+
+The village lay silent before her, and silence pervaded all nature. Yet
+to the countess it seemed as if it were the stillness which precedes a
+great, decisive word.
+
+"What hast Thou to say to me, Viewless One? Sacred stillness, what dost
+thou promise? Will the moment come when I shall understand Thy
+language, infinite Spirit? Or wilt Thou only half do Thy work in
+me--only awake the feeling that Thou art near me, speaking to me,
+merely to let me die of longing for the word I have failed to
+comprehend.
+
+"Woe betide me, if it is so! And yet--wherefore hast Thou implanted in
+my heart this longing, this inexplicable yearning, which _nothing_
+stills, no earthly advantage, neither the splendor and grandeur Thou
+hast given me, nor the art and science which Thou didst endow me with
+capacity to appreciate. On, on, strives my thirsting soul toward the
+germ of all existence, toward _Thee_. Fain would I behold Thy face,
+though the fiery vision should consume me!
+
+"Source of wisdom, no knowledge gives Thee to me; source of love, no
+love can supply Thy place. I have sought Thee in the temples of beauty,
+but found Thee not; in the shining spheres of thought, but in vain; in
+the love of human beings, but no matter how many hearts opened to me, I
+flung them aside as worthless rubbish, for Thou wert not in them! When
+will the moment come that Thou wilt appear before me in some noble form
+suited to Thy Majesty, and tell the sinner that her dim longing, into
+whatever errors it may have led her, yet obtained for her the boon of
+beholding Thy face?"
+
+Burning tears glittered in the moonlight in the countess' large,
+beseeching eyes and, mastered by an inexplicable feeling, she sank on
+her knees at the little window, stretching her clasped hands fervently
+towards the shining orb, floating in her mild beauty and effulgence
+above the conquered, flying clouds. The mountain opposite towered like
+a spectral form in the moonlit atmosphere, the peak over which she had
+driven that day, where she had seen that wondrous apparition, that man
+with the grief of the universe in his gaze! What manner of man must he
+have been whose glance, in a single moment, awed the person upon whom
+it fell as if some higher power had given a look of admiration? Why had
+it rested upon her with such strange reproach, as if saying: "You, too,
+are a child of the world, like many who come here, unworthy of
+salvation." Or was he angry with her because she had disturbed him in
+his reveries? Yet why did he fix his eyes so intently upon hers, that
+neither could avert them from the other? And all this happened in a
+single moment--but a moment worthy of being held in remembrance
+throughout an eternity. Who could he be? Would she see him again? Yes,
+for in that meeting there was something far beyond mere accident.
+
+An incomprehensible restlessness seized upon her, a longing to solve
+the enigma, once more behold that face, that wonderful face whose like
+she had never seen before!
+
+The horse was stamping in its stall, but she did not heed it, the thin
+candles had burned down and gone out long ago, the worm was gnawing the
+ancient wainscoting, the clock in the church-steeple struck twelve. A
+dog howled in the distance, one of the children in the workshop was
+disturbed by the nightmare, it cried out in its sleep. Usually such
+nocturnal sounds would have greatly irritated the countess' nerves. Now
+she had no ears for them, before her lay the whole grand expanse of
+mountain scenery, bathed in the moonlight, naked as a beautiful body
+just risen from a glittering flood! And she was seized with an eager
+longing to throw herself upon the bosom of this noble body, that she,
+too, might be irradiated with light, steeped in its moist glow and cool
+in the pure, icy atmosphere emanating from it, her fevered blood, the
+vague yearning which thrilled her pulses. She hurriedly seized her hat
+and cloak and stepped noiselessly into the workshop. What a picture of
+poverty! The sisters and the little girl were lying on the floor upon
+sacks of straw, the boy was asleep on the "couch," and the old man
+dozed sitting erect in an antique arm-chair, with his feet on a stool.
+
+"How relative everything is," thought the countess. "To these people
+even so poor a bed as mine in yonder room is a forbidden luxury, which
+it would be sinful extravagance to desire. And we, amid our rustling
+curtains, on our silken cushions, resting on soft down, in rooms
+illuminated with the magical glow of lamps which pour a flood of
+roseate light on limbs stretched in comfortable repose, while the
+bronze angels which support the mirror seem to laugh gaily at each
+other, and from the toilet table intoxicating perfumes send forth their
+sweet poison, to conjure up a tropical world of blossom before the
+drowsy senses! While these sleeping-places here! On the bare floor and
+straw, lighted by the cold glimmer of the moon, shining through
+uncurtained windows and making the slumberers' lids quiver restlessly.
+Not even undressed, cramped by their coarse, tight garments, their
+weary limbs move uneasily on the hard beds! And this atmosphere! Five
+human beings in the low room and the soot from the lamp which has been
+smoking all the evening still filling the air. What lives! What
+contrasts! Yet these people are content and do not complain of their
+hard fate! Nay, they even disdain a favorable opportunity of improving
+it by legitimate gains. Not one desires more than is customary and
+usual. What pride, what grandeur of self-sacrifice this requires! _What
+gives them this power?_"
+
+Old Andreas woke and gazed with an almost terrified expression at the
+beautiful figure of the countess, standing thoughtfully among the
+sleepers. Starting up, he asked what she desired.
+
+"Will you go to walk with me, Herr Gross?"
+
+The old man rubbed his eyes to convince himself that he had slept so
+long that the sun was shining into his room. But no. "It is the moon
+which is so bright," he said to the countess.
+
+"Why, of course, that is why I want to go out!" she repeated. The old
+man quickly seized his hat from the chamois horn and stood ready to
+attend her. "Are you not tired?" she said hesitatingly. "You have not
+been in bed."
+
+"Oh, that is of no consequence!" was his ready answer. "During the
+Passion it is always so."
+
+The countess shook her head; she knew that the people here said simply
+"the Passion," but she could not understand why, during "the Passion,"
+they should neither expect a bed nor the most trivial comfort or why,
+for the sake of "the Passion," they should endure without a murmur, and
+without succumbing, every exertion and deprivation. She saw in the
+broad light which filled the room the old man's bright, keen eyes. "No,
+these Ammergau people know no fatigue, their task supports them!"
+
+The countess left the room with him. "Ah!" an involuntary exclamation
+of delight escaped her lips as she emerged into the splendor of the
+brilliant moonlight, and eagerly inhaled the air which blew cold and
+strong, yet closed softly around her, strengthening and supporting her
+like the waves of the sea. And, amid these shimmering, floating mists,
+this "phosphorescence" of the earth, these waves of melting outlines,
+softly dissolving shapes--the Kofel towered solitary in sharp relief,
+like a vast reef of rocks, and on its summit glittered the metal-bound
+cross, the symbol of Ammergau, sending its beams far and wide in the
+light of the full moon like the lantern of a lighthouse.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau stretched out her arms, throwing back her cloak,
+that her whole form might bathe in the pure element.
+
+"Oh, wash away all earthly dust and earthly ballast, ye surging
+billows: steal, purify me in thy chaste majesty, queen of the world,
+heaven-born air of the heights!" Was it possible that hitherto she had
+been able to live without this bliss, _had_ she lived? No, no, she had
+not! "Ammergau, thou art the soil I have sought! Thy miracles are
+beginning!" cried an exultant voice in the soul of the woman so
+suddenly released from the toils of weary desolation.
+
+Without exchanging many words--for the old man was full of delicacy,
+and perceived what was passing in the countess' soul--they
+involuntarily walked in the direction of the Kofel; only when they were
+passing the house of a prominent actor in the Passion Play, he often
+thought it his duty to call his companion's attention to it.
+
+Their way now lead them past a small dilapidated tavern which had but
+two windows in the front. Here the Roman Procurator lay on his bed of
+straw, enjoying his well-earned night's rest. It was the house of
+Pilate! Nowhere was any window closed with shutters--there were no
+thieves in Ammergau! The moon was reflected from every window-pane.
+They turned into the main street of the village, where the Ammer flowed
+in its broad, deep channel like a Venetian lagoon. The stately,
+picturesquely situated houses threw sharp shadows on the water. Here
+the ancient, venerable "star," whose landlord was one of the musicians,
+thrust its capacious bow-window into the street; yonder a foot-bridge
+led to the house of Caiaphas, a handsome building, richly adorned with
+frescoes representing scenes from ancient history; farther on Judas was
+sleeping the sleep of the just, rejoicing in the consciousness of
+having betrayed his master so often! On the other side Mary rested
+under the richly carved gable with the ancient design of the clover
+leaf, the symbol of the Trinity, and directly opposite, the milk-wart
+nodded and swayed on the wall of the churchyard!
+
+A strange feeling stole over the countess as she stood among these
+consecrated sleepers. As the fragrance of the sleeping flowers floats
+over a garden at night, the sorrowful spirit of the story of the
+Passion seemed to rise from these humble resting places, and the
+pilgrim through the silent village was stirred as though she was
+walking through the streets of Jerusalem. A street turned to the left
+between gardens surrounded by fences and shaded by tall, ancient trees.
+The shadows of the branches, tossed by the wind, flickered and danced
+with magical grace. "That is the way to the dwelling of the Christ,"
+said old Gross, in a subdued, reverential tone.
+
+The countess involuntarily started. "The Christ," she repeated
+thoughtfully, pausing. "Can the house be seen?"
+
+"No, not from here. The house is like himself, not very easy to find."
+
+"Is he so inaccessible?" asked the countess, glancing down the
+mysterious street again as they passed.
+
+"Oh yes," replied Andreas. "He is a peculiar man. It is difficult to
+approach him. He is a friend of my son, but has little to do with the
+rest of us."
+
+"But you associate with him?"
+
+"Very little in daily life; he goes nowhere, not even to the ale-house.
+But in the Passion I am associated with him. I always nail him to the
+cross," added the old man proudly. "No one is permitted to do that
+except myself."
+
+The countess listened with eager interest. The brief description had
+roused her curiosity to the utmost. "How do you do it?" she asked, to
+keep him to the same subject.
+
+"I cannot explain that to you, but a great deal depends upon having
+everything exactly right, for, you know, the least mistake might cost
+him his life."
+
+"How?"
+
+"Why, surely you can understand. Just think, the man is obliged to hang
+on the cross for twenty minutes. During this time the blood cannot
+circulate, and he always risks an attack of palpitation of the heart.
+One incautious movement in the descent from the cross, which should
+cause the blood to flow back too quickly to the heart, might cause his
+death."
+
+"That is terrible!" cried the countess in horror. "And does he know
+it?"
+
+"Why, certainly."
+
+"And _still_ does it!"
+
+Here Andreas gazed at the great lady with a compassionate smile, as if
+he wanted to say: "How little you understand, that you can ask such a
+question!"
+
+They walked on silently. The countess was thinking: "What kind of man
+must this Christ be?" and while thus pondering and striving to form
+some idea of him, it suddenly flashed upon her that there was but _one_
+face which could belong to this man, the face she had seen gazing down
+upon her from the mountain, as if from some other world. Like a blaze
+of lightning the thought flamed through her soul. "_That_ must have
+been he!"
+
+At that moment Gross made a circuit around a gloomy house that had a
+neglected, tangled garden.
+
+"Who lives there?" asked the countess in surprise, following the old
+man, who was now walking much faster.
+
+"Oh," he answered sorrowfully, "that is a sad place! There is an
+unhappy girl there, who sobs and moans all night long so that people
+hear her outside. I wanted to spare you, Countess."
+
+They had now reached the end of the village and were walking, still
+along the bank of the Ammer, toward a large dam over which the mountain
+stream, swollen by the rain, plunged in mad, foaming waves. The spray
+gleamed dazzlingly white in the moon-rays, the massive beams trembled
+under the pressure of the unchained volume of water, groaning and
+creaking with a sinister noise amid the thundering roar until it
+sounded like the wails of the dying amid the din of battle. The
+countess shuddered at the demoniac power of this spectacle. High above
+the steep fall a narrow plank led from one bank of the stream to the
+other, vibrating constantly with the shock of the falling water.
+Madeleine's brain whirled at the thought of being compelled to cross
+it. "The timbers are groaning," she said, pausing. "Does not it sound
+like a human voice?"
+
+The old man listened. "By heaven! one would suppose so."
+
+"It _is_ a human voice--there--hark--some one is weeping--moaning."
+
+The dam was in the full radiance of the moonlight, the countess and her
+companion stood concealed by a dense clump of willows, so that they
+could see without being seen.
+
+Suddenly--what was that? The old man made the sign of the cross.
+"Heavenly Father, it is she!"
+
+A female figure was gliding across the plank. Like the ruddy glow of
+flame, mingled with the bluish hue of the moonlight, a mass of red-gold
+hair gleamed around her head and fluttered in the wind. The beautiful
+face was ghost-like in its pallor, the eyes were fixed, the very
+embodiment of despair. Her upper garment hung in tatters about her
+softly-moulded shoulders, and she held her clasped hands uplifted, not
+like one who prays, but one who fain would pray, yet cannot. Then with
+the firm poise of a person seeking death, she walked to the middle of
+the swaying plank, where the water was deepest, the fall most steep.
+There she prepared to take the fatal plunge. The countess shrieked
+aloud and Gross shouted:
+
+"Josepha! Josepha! May God forgive you. Remember your old mother!"
+
+The girl uttered a piercing cry, covered her face with both hands, and
+flung herself prone on the narrow plank.
+
+But, with the speed of a youth, the old man was already on the bridge,
+raising the girl. "Shame on you to wish to do such a thing! We must
+submit to our fate! Now take care that you don't make a mis-step or I,
+an old man, must leap into the cold water to drag you out again, and
+you know how much I suffer from the rheumatism." He spoke in low,
+kindly tones, and the countess secretly admired his shrewdness and
+tenderness. She watched them breathlessly as the girl, at these words,
+tried not to slip in order to spare him. But now, as she did not _wish_
+to fall, she moved with uncertain, stumbling feet, where she had just
+seemed to fly. But Andreas Gross led her firmly and kindly. The
+countess' heart throbbed heavily till they reached the end and, in the
+utmost anxiety she stretched out her arms to them from the distance.
+Thank Heaven, there they are! The lady caught the girl by the hand and
+dragged her on the shore, where she sank silently, like a stricken
+animal, at her feet. The countess covered the trembling form with her
+cloak and said a few comforting words.
+
+"Do you know her?" she asked the old man.
+
+"Of course, it is Josepha Freyer, from the gloomy house yonder."
+
+"Freyer? A relative of the Freyer who played the Christ."
+
+"A cousin; yes."
+
+The old man was about to go to the girl's house to bring her mother.
+
+"No, no," said the countess. "I will care for her. What induced the
+unfortunate girl to take such a step?"
+
+"She was the Mary Magdalene in the last Passion!" whispered the old
+man. At the words the girl raised her head and burst into violent sobs.
+
+"My child, what has happened!" asked the countess, gazing admiringly at
+the charming creature, who was as perfect a picture of the penitent
+Magdalene as any artist could create.
+
+"Why don't you play the Magdalene _this time_?"
+
+"Don't you know?" asked the girl, amazed that there was any human being
+still ignorant of her disgrace. "I am not _permitted_ to play now--I
+am--I have"--she again burst with convulsive sobs and, clasping the
+countess' knees, cried: "Oh, let me die, I cannot bear it."
+
+"She fell into error," said Gross, in reply to the lady's questioning
+glance. "A little boy was born last winter. Now she can no longer act,
+for only those who are pure and without reproach are permitted to take
+part in the Passion."
+
+"Oh, how harsh!" cried the countess; "And in a land where human beings
+are so near to nature, and in circumstances where the poor girls are so
+little guarded."
+
+"Yes, we are aware of that--and Josepha is a heavy loss to us in the
+play--but these rules have come down to us from our ancestors and must
+be rigidly maintained. Yet the girl takes it too much to heart, she
+weeps day and night, so that people never pass the house to avoid
+hearing her lamentations, and now she wants to kill herself, the
+foolish lass."
+
+"Oh, it's very well for you to talk, it's very well for you to talk,"
+now burst from the girls lips in accents tremulous with passion.
+"First, try once what it is to have the whole world point at you. When
+the Englishmen, and the strangers from all the foreign countries in the
+world, come and want to see the famous Josepha Freyer, who played in
+the last Passion, and fairly drag the soul out of your body with their
+questions about the reason that you no longer act in it. Wait till you
+have to tell each person the story of your own disgrace, that it may be
+carried through the whole earth and know that your name is branded
+wherever men speak of the Passion Play. First try what it is to hide in
+a corner like a criminal, while they are acting in the Passion, and
+bragging and giving themselves airs as if they were saints, while
+thousands upon thousands listen devoutly. Ah, I alone am shut out, and
+yet I know that _no one_ can act as I do." She drew herself up proudly,
+and flung the magnificent traditional locks of the Magdalene back on
+her shoulders. "Just seek such a Magdalene as I was--you will find
+none. And then to be forced to hear people who are passing ask: 'Why
+doesn't Josepha Freyer play the Magdalene this year?' And then there
+are whispers, shrugs, and laughter, some one says, 'then she would suit
+the character exactly.' And when people pass the house they point at
+it--it seems as if I could feel it through the walls--and mutter:
+'That's where the Penitent lives!' No, I won't bear it. I only waited
+till there was a heavy storm to make the water deep enough for me to
+drown myself. And I've been prevented even in this."
+
+"Josepha!" said the countess, deeply moved, "will you go with me--away
+from Ammergau, to another, a very different world, where you and your
+disgrace are unknown?"
+
+Josepha gazed at the stranger as if in a dream.
+
+"I believe," the lady added, "that my losing my maid to-day was an act
+of Providence in your behalf. Will you take her place?"
+
+"Thank heaven!" said old Gross. "Brighter days will dawn for you,
+Josepha!"
+
+Josepha stood still with her hands clasped, tears were streaming down
+her cheeks.
+
+"Why, do you hesitate to accept my offer?" asked the countess, greatly
+perplexed.
+
+"Oh, don't be angry with me--I am sincerely grateful; but what do I
+care for all these things, if I am no longer permitted to act the
+Magdalene?" burst in unutterable anguish from the very depths of the
+girl's soul.
+
+"What an ambition!" said the countess to Andreas in astonishment.
+
+"Yes, that is the way with them all here--they would rather lose their
+lives than a part in the Passion!" he answered in a low tone. "But,
+child, you could not always play the Magdalene--in ten years you would
+be too old for it," he said soothingly to the despairing Josepha.
+
+"Oh that's a very different thing--when we have grown grey with honors,
+we know that we must give it up--but so--" and again she gazed
+longingly at the beautiful, deep, rushing water, where it would be so
+cool, so pleasant to rest--which she had vowed to seek, and now could
+not keep her word.
+
+"Do you love your child, Josepha?" asked Countess Wildenau.
+
+"It died directly after it was born."
+
+"Do you love your mother?"
+
+"No, she was always unkind and harsh to me, and now she has lost her
+mind."
+
+"Do you love your lover?" the lady persisted.
+
+"Yes--but he is dead! A poacher shot him--he was a forester."
+
+"Then you have no one for whom you care to live?"
+
+"No one!"
+
+"Then come with me and try whether you cannot love me well enough to
+make it worth while to live for me! Will you?"
+
+"Yes, your Highness, I will try!" replied the girl, fixing her large
+eyes with an expression of mingled inquiry and admiration upon the
+countess. A beautiful glow of gratitude and confidence gradually
+transfigured the grief-worn face: "I think I could do anything for
+you."
+
+"Come with me then--at once, poor child--I will save you! Your
+relatives will not object."
+
+"Oh, no! They will be glad to have me go away."
+
+"And your cousin, the--the--" she does not know herself why she
+hesitates to pronounce the name.
+
+"The Christ-Freyer?" said Josepha finishing the sentence. "Oh! he has
+not spoken to me for a year, except to say what was absolutely
+necessary, he cannot get over my having brought disgrace upon his
+unsullied name. It has made him disgusted with life here and, if it
+were not for the Christ, he would not stay in Ammergau. He is so severe
+in such things."
+
+"So _severe!_" the countess repeated, thoughtfully.
+
+The clock in the steeple of the Ammergau church struck two.
+
+"It is late," said the countess, "the poor thing needs rest." She
+wrapped her own cloak around the girl.
+
+"Come, lonely heart, I will warm you."
+
+She turned once more to drink in the loveliness of the exquisite scene.
+
+"Night of miracle, I thank thee."
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+
+                            MODERN PILGRIMS.
+
+
+"What do you think. The Countess von Wildenau is founding an Orphan's
+Home!" said the prince, as, leaving the Gross house, he joined a group
+of gentlemen who were waiting just outside the door in the little
+garden.
+
+The news created a sensation; the gentlemen, laughing and jesting,
+plied him with questions.
+
+"Oh, _Mon Dieu_, who can understand a woman? Our goddess is sitting in
+the peasants' living room, with the elderly daughters of the house,
+indescribable creatures, occupying herself with feminine work."
+
+"Her Highness! Countess Wildenau! Oh, that's a bad joke."
+
+"No, upon my honor! If she had not hung a veil over the window, we
+could see her sitting there. She has borrowed a calico apron from one
+of the 'ladies of the house,' and as, for want of a maid, she was
+obliged to arrange her hair herself, she wears it to-day in a
+remarkably simple style and looks,"--he kissed his hand to the empty
+air--"more bewitching than ever, like a girl of sixteen, a regular
+Gretchen! Whoever has not gone crazy over her when she has been in full
+dress, will surely do so if he sees her _thus_."
+
+"Aha! We must see her, too; we'll assail the window!" cried his
+companions enthusiastically.
+
+"No, no! For Heaven's sake don't do that, on pain of her anger! Prince
+Hohenheim, I beg you! Count Cossigny, don't knock! St. Genois, _au nom
+de Dieu_, she will never forgive you."
+
+"Why not--friends so intimate as we are?"
+
+"I have already said, who can depend upon a woman's whims? Let me
+explain. I entered, rejoicing in the thought of bringing her such
+pleasant news. I said: 'Guess whom I met just now at the ticket office,
+Countess?' The goddess sat sewing."
+
+There was a general cry of astonishment. "Sewing!" the prince went on,
+"of course, without a thimble, for those in the house did not fit, and
+there was none among Her Highness' trinkets. So I repeated my question.
+An icy 'How can I tell?' was the depressing answer, as if at that
+moment nothing in the world could possibly interest her more than her
+work! So, unasked and with no display of attention, I was forced to go
+on with my news. 'Just think, Countess, Prince Hohenheim, the Counts
+Cossigny, Wengenrode, St. Genois, all Austria, France, and Bavaria have
+arrived!' I joyously exclaimed. I expected that she would utter a sigh
+of relief at the thought of meeting men of her world again, but no--she
+greeted my tidings with a frown."
+
+"Hear, hear!" cried the group.
+
+"A frown! I was forced to persist. 'They are outside, waiting to throw
+themselves at your feet,' I added. A still darker frown. 'Please keep
+the gentlemen away, I can see no one, I will see no one.' So she
+positively announced. I timidly ventured to ask why. She was tired, she
+could receive no one, she had no time. At last it came out. What do you
+suppose the countess did yesterday?"
+
+"I dare not guess," replied St. Genois with a malicious glance at the
+prince, which the latter loftily ignored.
+
+"She sent me away at eleven o'clock and then went wandering about,
+rhapsodizing over the moonlight with her host, old Gross."
+
+A universal peal of laughter greeted these words. "Countess Wildenau,
+for lack of an escort, obliged to wander about with an old
+stone-cutter!"
+
+"Yes, and she availed herself of this virtuous ramble to save the life
+of a despairing girl, who very opportunely attempted to commit suicide,
+just at the time the countess was passing to rescue this precious
+prize. Now she is sitting yonder remodeling one of her charming tailor
+costumes for this last toy of her caprice. She declares that she loves
+the wench most tenderly, will never be separated from her; in short,
+she is playing the novel character of Lady Bountiful, and does not want
+to be disturbed."
+
+"Did you see the fair orphan?"
+
+"No; she protested that it would be unpleasant for the girl to expose
+herself to curious glances, so she conceals this very sensitive young
+lady from profane eyes in her sleeping room. What do you say to all
+this, Prince?"
+
+"I say," replied Prince Hohenheim, an elderly gentleman with a clearly
+cut, sarcastic face, a bald forehead, and a low, but distinct
+enunciation, "that a vivacious, imaginative woman is always influenced
+by the environment in which she happens to find herself. When the
+countess is in the society of scholarly people, she becomes extremely
+learned, if she is in a somewhat frivolous circle, like ours, she
+grows--not exactly frivolous, but full of sparkling wit, and here,
+among these devout enthusiasts, Her Highness wishes to play the part of
+a Stylite. Let us indulge her, it won't last long, a lady's whim must
+never be thwarted. _Ce que femme veut, Dieu le veut!_"
+
+"Has the countess also made a vow to fast?" asked Count Cossigny of the
+Austrian Embassy, and therefore briefly called 'Austria,' "could we not
+dine together?"
+
+"No, she told me that she would not leave the beloved suicide alone a
+moment at present, and therefore she intended to dine at home.
+Yesterday she shuddered at the bare thought of drinking a cup of tea
+made in that witch's kitchen, and only the fact that my valet prepared
+it and I drank it first in her presence finally induced her, at ten
+o'clock last evening, to accept the refreshment. And to-day she will
+eat a dinner prepared by the ladies of the house. There must really be
+something dangerous in the air of Ammergau!"
+
+"To persons of the countess' temperament, yes!" replied Prince
+Hohenheim in his calm manner, then slipping his arm through the
+prince's a moment, whispered confidentially, as they walked on: "I
+advise you, Prince Emil, to get her away as soon as possible."
+
+"Certainly, all the arrangements are made. We shall start directly
+after the performance."
+
+"That is fortunate. To-morrow, then! You have tickets?"
+
+"Oh yes, and what is still better, whole bones."
+
+"That's true," cried Austria, "what a crowd! One might think Sarah
+Bernhardt was going to play the Virgin Mary."
+
+"It's ridiculous! I haven't seen such a spectacle since the Paris
+Exposition!" remarked St. Genois.
+
+"It's worse than Baden-Baden at the time of the races," muttered
+Wengenrode, angrily. "Absurd, what brings the people here?"
+
+"Why, _we_ are here, too," said Hohenheim, smiling.
+
+"_Mon Dieu_, it must be seen once, if people are in the neighborhood,"
+observed Cossigny.
+
+"Are you going directly after the performance, too?" asked Prince Emil.
+
+"Of course, what is there to do here? No gaming--no ladies' society,
+and just think, the burgomaster of Ammergau will allow neither a circus
+nor any other ordinary performance. He was offered _forty thousand
+marks_ by the proprietor of the Circus Rouannet, if he would permit him
+to give performances during the Passion Play! Mademoiselle Rouannet
+told me so herself. Do you suppose that obstinate, stiff-necked
+Philistine could be persuaded? No, it was not in harmony with the
+dignity of the Passion Play. He preferred to refuse the 40,000 marks.
+The Salon Klueber wanted to put up an elegant merry-go-round and offered
+12,000 marks for the privilege. Heaven forbid!"
+
+"I believe these people have the mania of ambition," said Wengenrode.
+
+"Say rather of _saintship_,' corrected Prince Hohenheim.
+
+"Aye, they all consider themselves the holy personages whom they
+represent. We need only look at this arrogant burgomaster, and the
+gentleman who personates Christ, to understand what these people
+imagine themselves."
+
+All joined in the laugh which followed.
+
+"Yes," said Wengenrode, "and the Roman procurator, Pilate, who is a
+porter or a messenger and so drags various loads about, carried up my
+luggage to-day and dropped my dressing case containing a number of
+breakable jars and boxes. 'Stupid blockhead!' I exclaimed, angrily. He
+straightened himself and looked at me with an expression which actually
+embarrassed me. 'My name is _Thomas Rendner_, sir! I beg your pardon
+for my awkwardness, and am ready to make your loss good, so far as my
+means shall allow.'"
+
+"Now tell me, isn't that sheer hallucination of grandeur?"
+
+Some of the gentlemen laughed, but Prince Emil and Hohenheim were
+silent.
+
+"Where shall we go to-morrow evening in Munich to recompense ourselves
+for this boredom?" asked Cossigny.
+
+"To the Casino, I think!" said the prince.
+
+"Well, then we'll all meet there, shall we?"
+
+The party assented.
+
+"Provided that the countess has no commands for us," observed St.
+Genois.
+
+"She will not have any," said the prince, "for either the Play will
+produce an absurd impression which is not to be expected, and then she
+will feel ashamed and unwilling to grant us our triumph because we
+predicted it, or her sentimental mood will draw from this farce a sweet
+poison of emotion, and in that case we shall be too frivolous for her!
+This must first be allowed to exhale."
+
+"Very true," Hohenheim assented. "You are just the man to cope with
+this capricious beauty, Prince Emil. Adieu! May you prosper!"
+
+The gentlemen raised their hats.
+
+"Farewell!" said Cossigny, "by the way, I'll make a suggestion. We
+shall best impress the countess while in this mood, by our generosity;
+let us heap coals of fire on her head by sending a telegram to the
+court-gardener to convert the whole palace into a floral temple to
+welcome her return. It will touch a mysterious chord of sympathy if she
+meets only these mute messengers of our adoration. When on entering she
+finds this surprise and remembers how basely she treated us this
+morning, her heart will be touched and she will invite us to dine the
+day after to-morrow."
+
+"A capital plan," cried Wengenrode and St. Genois, gaily. "Do your
+Highnesses agree?"
+
+"Certainly," replied Hohenheim, with formal courtesy, "when the point
+in question is a matter of gallantry, a Hohenheim is never backward."
+
+"I beg to be allowed to contribute also, but _incognito_. She would
+regard such an attention from me as a piece of sentimentality, and it
+would produce just the contrary effect," Prince Emil answered.
+
+"As you please."
+
+"Let us go to the telegraph office!" cried Wengenrode, eagerly.
+
+"Farewell, gentlemen."
+
+"_Au revoir_, Prince Emil! Are you going to return to the lionesses'
+den?"
+
+"Can you ask?" questioned Hohenheim with a significant smile.
+
+"Then early to-morrow morning at the Play, and at night the Casino,
+don't forget!" Cossigny called back.
+
+The gentlemen, laughing and chatting, strolled down the street to their
+lodgings. The prince watched them a moment, turned, and went back to
+the countess.
+
+"I cannot really be vexed with her, if these associates do not satisfy
+her," he thought.
+
+"Should I desire her to become my wife, if they did? Certainly not. Yet
+if women only would not rush from one extreme to another? Hohenheim is
+perfectly right, she ought not to stay here too long, she must go
+to-morrow."
+
+He had reached the house and entered the neglected old garden where
+huge gnarled fruit trees, bearing small, stunted fruit, interlaced
+their branches above a crooked bench. There, in the midst of the rank
+grass and weeds, sat the countess, her beautiful head resting against
+the mouldy bark of the old trunk, gazing thoughtfully at the luminous
+mountains gleaming in the distance through the tangled boughs and
+shrubbery.
+
+From the adjoining garden of the sculptor Zwink, whose site was
+somewhat higher, a Diana carved in white stone gazed curiously across,
+seeming as if she wished to say to the pensive lady who at that moment
+herself resembled a statue: "Art will create gods for you
+_everywhere_!" But the temptation had no effect, the countess seemed to
+have had no luck with these gods, she no longer believed in them!
+
+"Well, Countess Madeleine, did the light and air lure you out of
+doors?" asked the prince, joyfully approaching her.
+
+"Oh, I could not bear to stay there any longer. Herr Gross' daughters
+are finishing the dress. We will dine here, Prince; the meal can be
+served on a table near the house, under a wild-grape vine arbor. We can
+wait on ourselves for one day."
+
+"For _one_ day!" repeated the prince with great relief; "oh yes, it can
+be managed for one day." Thank Heaven, she had no intention of staying
+here.
+
+"Oh, Prince, see how beautiful, how glorious it is!"
+
+"Beautiful, glorious? Pardon me, but I see nothing to call forth words
+you so rarely use! You must have narrowed your demands if, after the
+view of the wondrous garden of the Isola Bella and all the Italian
+villas, you suddenly take delight in cabbage-stalks, wild-pears, broom,
+and colt's foot."
+
+"Now see how you talk again!" replied the countess, unpleasantly
+affected by his words. "Does not Spinoza say: 'Everything is beautiful,
+and as I lose myself in the observation of its beauty, my pleasure in
+life is increased.'"
+
+"That has not been your motto hitherto. You have usually found
+something to criticise in every object. It seems to me that you have
+wearied of the beautiful and now, by way of a change, find even
+_ugliness_ fair."
+
+"Very true, my friend. I am satisfied, nothing charms me, nothing
+satisfies me, not even the loveliest scene, because I always apply to
+everything the standard of perfection, and nothing attains it." She
+shook herself suddenly as if throwing off a burden. "This must not
+continue, the aesthetic intolerance which poisoned every pleasure must
+end, I will cast aside the whole load of critical analysis and academic
+ideas of beauty, and snap my fingers at the ghosts of Winckelmann and
+Lessing. Here in the kitchen-garden, among cabbage-stalks and colt's
+foot, wild-pear and plum-trees, fanned by the fresh, crystal-clear air
+of the lofty mountains, whose glaciers shimmer with a bluish light
+through the branches, in the silence and solitude, I suddenly find it
+beautiful; beautiful because I am happy, because I am only a human
+being, free from every restraint, thinking nothing, feeling nothing
+save the peace of nature, the delight of this repose."
+
+She rested her feet comfortably on the bench and, with her head thrown
+back, gazed with a joyous expression into the blue air which, after the
+rain, arched above the earth like a crystal bell.
+
+This mood did not quite please the prince. He was exclusively a man of
+the world. His thoughts were ruled by the laws of the most rigid logic,
+whatever was not logically attainable had no existence for him; his
+enthusiasm reached the highest pitch only in the enjoyment of the
+noblest products of art and science. He did not comprehend how any one
+could weary of them, even for a moment, on the one side because his
+calm temperament did not, like the countess' passionate one, exhaust
+everything by following it to its inmost core, and he was thus guarded
+from satiety; on the other because he wholly lacked appreciation of
+nature and her unconscious grandeur. He was the trained vassal of
+custom in the conventional, as well as in every other province. The
+countess, however, possessed some touch of that doctrine of divine
+right which is ready, at any moment, to cast off the bonds of tradition
+and artificial models and obey the impulse of kinship with sovereign
+nature. This was the boundary across which he could not follow her, and
+he was perfectly aware of it, for he had one of those proud characters
+which disdain to deceive themselves concerning their own powers. Yet it
+filled him with grave anxiety.
+
+"What are you thinking of now, Prince?" asked his companion, noticing
+his gloomy mood.
+
+"That I have not seen you so contented for months, and yet I am unable
+to understand the cause of this satisfaction. Especially when I
+remember what it usually requires to bring a smile of pleasure to your
+lips."
+
+"Dear me, must everything be understood?" cried the beautiful woman,
+laughing; "there is the pedant again! Must we be perpetually under
+the curb of self-control and give ourselves an account whether
+what we feel in a moment of happiness is sensible and authorized?
+Must we continually see ourselves reflected in the mirror of our
+self-consciousness, and never draw a veil over our souls and permit God
+to have one undiscovered secret in them?"
+
+The prince silently kissed her hand. His eyes now expressed deep,
+earnest feeling, and stirred by emotion, she laid her other hand upon
+his head:
+
+"You are a noble-hearted man, Prince; though some unspoken,
+uncomprehended idea stands between us, I know your feelings."
+
+Again the rose and the thorn! It was always so! At the very moment her
+soft, sweet hand touched him caressingly, she thrust a dagger into his
+heart. Aye, that was the continual "misunderstanding" which existed
+between them, the thorn in the every rose she proffered.
+
+Women like these are only tolerable when they really love; when a
+powerful feeling makes them surrender themselves completely. Where this
+is not the case, they are, unconsciously and involuntarily, malicious,
+dangerous creatures, caressing and slaying at the same moment.
+
+First, woe betide the man whom _they believe_ they love. For how often
+such beings are mistaken in their feelings!
+
+Such delusions do not destroy the woman, she often experiences them,
+but the man who has shared them with her! Alas for him who has not kept
+a cool head.
+
+The prince was standing with his back turned to the street, gazing
+thoughtfully at the beautiful woman with the fathomless, sparkling
+eyes. Suddenly he saw her start and flush. Turning with the speed of
+lightning, he followed the direction of her glance, but saw nothing
+except the figure of a man of unusual height, with long black hair,
+pass swiftly around the corner and disappear.
+
+"Do you know that gentleman?"
+
+"No," replied the countess frankly, "he is the person whom I saw
+yesterday as we drove up the mountain."
+
+"Pardon the indiscretion, but you blushed."
+
+"Yes, I felt it, but I don't know why," she answered with an almost
+artless innocence in her gaze. The prince could not help smiling.
+
+"Countess, Countess!" he said, shaking his finger at her as if she were
+a child. "Guard your imagination; it will prove a traitor some day."
+
+The countess, as if with a sweet consciousness of guilt, drew down the
+uplifted hand with a movement of such indescribable grace that no one
+could have remained angry with her. The prince knelt at her feet an
+instant, not longer than a blade of grass requires to bend before the
+breeze and rise again, then he stood erect, somewhat paler than before,
+but perfectly calm.
+
+"I'll go in and tell my valet to serve our dinner here."
+
+"If you please, Prince," replied the lady, gazing absently down the
+street.
+
+Andreas Gross entered the garden. "Everything is settled, Your
+Highness. I have talked with Josepha's relatives and guardian and they
+will be very glad to have you take her."
+
+"All, even the Christ-Freyer?"
+
+"Certainly, there is no objection."
+
+She had expected something more and looked at the old man as if for the
+rest of the message, but he added nothing.
+
+"Ought not Freyer to come here, in order to discuss the particulars
+with me?" she asked at last, almost timidly.
+
+"Why, he goes to see no one, as I told you, and he surely would not
+come to speak of Josepha, for he is ashamed of her. He says that
+whatever you do will be satisfactory to him."
+
+"Very well," replied the countess, in a somewhat disappointed tone.
+
+"What a comical tete-a-tete!" a laughing voice suddenly exclaimed
+behind the fence. The countess started up, but it was too late for
+escape; she was caught.
+
+A lady, young and elegantly dressed, accompanied by two older ones,
+eagerly rushed up to her.
+
+"Dear Countess, why have you hidden yourself here at the farthest
+corner of the village? We have searched all Ammergau for you. Your
+coat-of-arms on the carriage and your liveries at the old post-house
+betrayed you. Yes, yes, when people want to travel _incognito_, they
+must not journey with genuine Wildenau elegance. We were more cautious.
+We came in a modest hired conveyance. But what a life this is! I was
+obliged to sleep on straw last night. Hear and shudder! On _straw_! Did
+you have a bed? You have been here since yesterday?"
+
+"Why, Your Highness, pray take breath! Good morning, Baroness! Good
+morning, Your Excellency!"
+
+The Countess von Wildenau greeted all the ladies somewhat absently, yet
+very cordially. "Will you condescend to sit on this bench?"
+
+"Oh, you must sit here, too."
+
+"No, It is not large enough, I am already seated."
+
+She had taken her seat on the root of a tree, with her face turned
+toward the street, in which she seemed to be deeply interested. The
+ladies were accommodated on the bench, and then followed a conversation
+which no pen could describe. This, that, and the other thing, matters
+to which the countess had not given a single thought, an account of
+everything the new comers had heard about the Ammergau people, the
+appearance of the Christ, whom they had already met, a handsome man,
+very handsome, with magnificent hair, and mysterious eyes--not the head
+of Christ, but rather as one would imagine Faust or Odin; but there was
+no approaching him, he was so unsociable. Such a pity, it would have
+been so interesting to talk with him. Rumor asserted that he was in
+love with a noble lady; it was very possible, there was no other way of
+explaining his distant manner.
+
+Countess von Wildenau had become very quiet, the eyes bent upon the
+street had an expression of actual suffering in their depths.
+
+Prince Emil stood in the doorway, mischievously enjoying the situation.
+It was a just punishment for her capricious whims that now, after
+having so insolently refused to see her friends, she should be
+compelled to listen to this senseless chatter.
+
+At last, however, he took pity on her and sent out his valet with the
+table-cloth and plates.
+
+"Oh, it is your dinner hour!" The ladies started up and Her Highness
+raised her lorgnette.
+
+"Ah, Prince Emil's valet! So the faithful Toggenburg is with you."
+
+"Certainly, ladies!" said a voice from the door, as the prince came
+forward. "Only I was too timid to venture into such a dangerous
+circle."
+
+Peals of laughter greeted him.
+
+"Yes, yes; the Prince of Metten-Barnheim timid!"
+
+"At present I am merely the representative of Countess Wildenau's
+discharged courier, whose office, with my usual devotion, I am trying
+to fill, and doing everything in my power to escape the fate of my
+predecessor."
+
+"That of being sent away?" asked the baroness somewhat maliciously.
+
+Countess Madeleine cast a glance of friendly reproach at him. "How can
+you say such things, Prince?"
+
+"Your soup is growing cold!" cried the duchess.
+
+"Where does Your Highness dine?"
+
+"At the house of one of the chorus singers, where we are lodging. A man
+with the bearing of an apostle, and a blacksmith by trade. It is
+strange, all these people have a touch of ideality about them, and all
+this beautiful long hair! Haven't you walked through the village yet?
+Oh, you must, it's very odd; the people who throng around the actors in
+the Passion Play are types we shall not soon see again. I'm waiting
+eagerly for to-morrow. I hope our seats will be near. Farewell, dear
+Countess!" The duchess took the arm of the prince, who escorted her to
+the garden gate. "I hope you will take care that the countess, under
+the influence of the Passion, doesn't enter a convent the day after
+to-morrow."
+
+"Your Highness forgets that I am an incorrigible heretic," laughed
+Madeleine Wildenau, kissing the two ladies in waiting, in her absence
+of mind, with a tenderness which they were at a loss to understand.
+
+The prince accompanied the ladies a short distance away from the house,
+while Madeleine returned to Josepha, as if seeking in the society of
+the sorrowful, quiet creature, rest from the noisy conversation.
+
+"Really, Countess von Wildenau has an over-supply of blessings. This
+magnificent widow's dower, the almost boundless revenue from the
+Wildenau estates, and a host of suitors!" said the baroness, after the
+prince had taken leave to return to "his idol."
+
+"Yes, but she will lose the revenue if she marries again," replied the
+duchess. "The will was made in that way by Count Wildenau because his
+jealousy extended beyond the grave. I know all the particulars. She
+must either remain a widow or make a _very_ brilliant match; for a
+woman of her temperament could _never_ accommodate herself to more
+modest circumstances."
+
+"So she is not a good match?" asked Her Excellency.
+
+"Certainly not, for the will is so worded that on the day she exchanges
+the name of Wildenau for another, the estates, with the whole income,
+go to a side branch of the Wildenau family as there are no direct
+heirs. It is enough to make one hate him, for the Wildenau cousins are
+extravagant and avaricious men who have already squandered one fortune.
+The poor countess will then have nothing except her personal property,
+her few diamonds, and whatever gifts she received from her husband."
+
+"Has she no private fortune?" asked the baroness, curiously.
+
+"You know that she was a Princess Prankenburg, and the financial
+affairs of the Prankenburg family are very much embarrassed. That is
+why the beautiful young girl was sacrificed at seventeen to that
+horrible old Wildenau, who in return was forced to pay her father's
+debts," the duchess explained.
+
+"Oh, so _that's_ the way the matter stands!" said Her Excellency,
+drawing a long breath. "Do her various admirers know it? All the
+gentlemen undoubtedly believe her to be immensely rich."
+
+"Oh, she makes no secret of these facts," replied the duchess kindly.
+"She is sincere, that must be acknowledged, and she endured a great
+deal with her nervous old husband. We all know what he was; every one
+feared him and he tyrannized over his wife. What was all her wealth and
+splendor to her? One ought not to grudge her a taste of happiness."
+
+"She laid aside her widow's weeds as soon as possible. People thought
+that very suspicious," observed the baroness in no friendly tone.
+
+"That is exactly why I say: she is better than her reputation, because
+she scorns falsehood and hypocrisy," replied the duchess, leading the
+way across a narrow bridge. The two ladies in waiting, lingering a
+little behind, whispered: "_She_ scorn falsehood and deception! Why,
+Your Excellency, her whole nature is treachery. She cannot exist a
+moment without acting some farce! With the pious she is pious, with the
+Liberals she plays the Liberal, she coquets with every party to
+maintain her influence as ex-ambassadress. She cannot cease intriguing
+and plotting. Now she is once more assuming the part of youthful
+artlessness to bewitch this Prince Emil. Did you see that look of
+embarrassment just now, like a young girl? It is enough to make one
+ill!"
+
+"Yes, just see how she has duped that handsome, clever prince, the heir
+of a reigning family, too," lamented Her Excellency, who had daughters.
+"It is a shocking affair, he is seen everywhere with her; and yet there
+is no report of a betrothal! What do the men find in her? She
+captivates them all, young and old, there is no difference."
+
+"And she is no longer even _beautiful_. She has faded, lost all her
+freshness, it is nothing but coquetry!" answered the baroness hastily,
+for the duchess had stopped and was waiting for the ladies to overtake
+her. So they walked on in the direction of the Passion Theatre where,
+on the morrow, they were to behold the God of Love, for whose sake they
+made this pious pilgrimage.
+
+"You were rightly served, Countess Madeleine," said the prince
+laughing, as they took their seats at the table. "You sent away your
+true friends and fell into the hands of these false ones."
+
+"The duchess is not false," answered the countess with a weary look,
+"she is noble in thought and act."
+
+"Like all who are in a position where they need envy no one," said the
+prince, pushing aside with his spoon certain little islands of doubtful
+composition which were floating in the soup. "But believe me, with
+these few exceptions, no one save men, deals sincerely with an admired
+woman. Women of the ordinary stamp cannot repress their envy. I should
+not like to hear what is being said of us by these friends on their way
+home."
+
+"What does it matter?" answered his companion, leaving her soup
+untasted.
+
+"Our poor diplomatic corps, which had anticipated so much pleasure in
+seeing you," the prince began again. "I would almost like to ask you a
+favor, Countess!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"That you will invite us to dine day after to-morrow. The gentlemen
+have resolved to avenge themselves nobly by offering you an ovation on
+your return to Munich to-morrow evening."
+
+"Indeed, what is it?"
+
+"I ought not to betray the secret, but I know that you do not like
+surprises. The Wildenau palace will be transformed into a temple of
+flowers. Everything is already ordered, it is to be matchless, fairy
+like!"
+
+The speaker was secretly watching the impression made by his words; he
+must get her away from this place at any cost! The mysterious figure
+which had just called to her cheeks a flush for whose sake he would
+have sacrificed years of his life, then he had noticed--nothing escaped
+his keen eye and ear--her annoyed, almost jealous expression when the
+ladies spoke of the "raven-locked" Christ and his love for some
+high-born dame. She must leave this place ere the whim gained a firm
+hold. The worthy peasant-performer might not object to the admiration
+of noble ladies, a pinchback theatre-saint would hardly resist a
+Countess Wildenau, if she should choose to make him the object of an
+eccentric caprice.
+
+"It is very touching in the gentlemen," said the countess; "let us
+anticipate them and invite them to dine the day after to-morrow."
+
+"Ah, there spoke my charming friend, now I am content with you. Will
+you permit me, at the close of this luxurious meal, to carry the joyous
+tidings to the gentlemen?"
+
+"Do so," she answered carelessly. "And when you have delivered the
+invitation, would you do me the favor to telegraph to my steward?"
+
+"Certainly." He pushed back the plate containing an unpalatable cutlet
+and drew out his note-book to make a memorandum.
+
+"What shall I write?"
+
+"Steward Geres, Wildenau Palace, Munich.--Day after to-morrow, Monday,
+Dinner at 6 o'clock, 12 plates, 15 courses," dictated the countess.
+
+"There, that is settled. But, Countess, twelve persons! Whom do you
+intend to invite?"
+
+"When I return the duchess' visit I will ask the three ladies, then
+Prince Hohenheim and Her Excellency's two daughters will make twelve."
+
+"But that will be terribly wearisome to the neighbors of Her
+Excellency's daughters."
+
+"Yes, still it can't be helped, I must give the poor girls a chance to
+make their fortune! With the exception of Prince Hohenheim, you are all
+in the market!" she said smiling.
+
+"No one could speak so proudly save a Countess Wildenau, who knows that
+every other woman only serves as a foil," replied the prince, kissing
+her hand with a significant smile. She was remarkably gracious that
+day; she permitted her hand to rest in his, there was a shade of
+apology in her manner. Apology for what? He had no occasion to ponder
+long--she was ashamed of having neglected a trusted friend for a
+chimera, a nightmare, which had assumed the form of a man with
+mysterious black eyes and floating locks. The ladies' stories of the
+love affairs of the presumptive owner of these locks had destroyed the
+dream and broken the spell of the nightmare.
+
+"Admirable, it had happened very opportunely."
+
+"But, Countess, the gentlemen will be disappointed, if the ladies,
+also, come. Would it not be much pleasanter without them? You are far
+more charming and entertaining when you are the only lady present at
+our little smoking parties."
+
+"We can have one later. The ladies will leave at ten. Then you others
+can remain."
+
+"And who will be sent away _next_, when you are wearied by this _apres
+soiree_? Who will be allowed to linger on a few minutes and smoke the
+last cigarette with you?" he added, coaxingly. He looked very handsome
+at that moment.
+
+"We shall see," replied the countess, and for the first time her voice
+thrilled with a warmer emotion. Her hand still rested in his, she had
+forgotten to withdraw it. Suddenly its warmth roused her, and his blue
+eyes flashed upon her a light as brilliant as the indiscreet glare
+which sometimes rouses a sleeper.
+
+She released it, and as the dinner was over, rose from the little
+table.
+
+"Will you go with me to call on the duchess later?" she asked. "If so,
+I will dress now, while you give the invitation to the gentlemen, and
+you can return afterward."
+
+"As you choose!" replied the prince in an altered tone, for the slight
+variation in the lady's mood had not escaped his notice. "In half an
+hour, then. Farewell!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VI.
+
+                      THE EVENING BEFORE THE PLAY.
+
+
+Josepha sat in the countess' room at work on her new dress. She was
+calm and quiet; the delight in finery which never abandons a woman to
+her latest hour--the poorest peasant, if still conscious, asks for a
+nicer cap when the priest comes to bring the last sacrament--had
+asserted its power in her. The countess noticed it with pleasure.
+
+"Shall you finish it soon, Josepha?"
+
+"In an hour, Your Highness!"
+
+"Very well, I shall return about that time, and then we'll try the
+dress on."
+
+"Oh, your ladyship, it's a sin for me to put on such a handsome gown,
+nobody will see me."
+
+"Not here, if you don't wish them to do so, but to-morrow evening we
+shall go to Munich, where you will begin a new life, with no brand upon
+your brow."
+
+Josepha kissed the countess' hand; a few large tears rolled down on the
+dress which was to clothe a new creature. Then she helped her mistress
+to put on a walking toilette, performing her task skillfully and
+quickly. The latter fixed a long, thoughtful look upon her. "You are
+somewhat like your cousin, the Christ, are you not?"
+
+"So people say!"
+
+"I suppose he sees a great many ladies?"
+
+"They all run after him, the high as well as the low. And it isn't the
+strangers only, the village girls are crazy over him, too. He might
+have _any_ one he wanted, it seems as if he fairly bewitched the
+women."
+
+"I heard that the reason for his secluded life was that he had a love
+affair with some noble lady."
+
+"Indeed?" said Josepha carelessly, "I don't know anything about it. I
+don't believe it, though he would not tell me, even if it were true.
+Oh, people talk about him so much, that's one reason for the envy. But
+his secluded life isn't on account of any noble lady! He has had
+nothing to say to anybody here since they refused to let me take part
+in the Play and gossiped so much about me. Though he doesn't speak of
+it, it cuts him to the heart. Alas, I am to blame, and no one else."
+
+Countess Wildenau, obeying a sudden impulse, kissed the girl on the
+forehead: "Farewell, keep up courage, don't weep, rejoice in your new
+life; I will soon return."
+
+As she passed out, she spoke to the Gross sisters commending Josepha to
+their special care.
+
+"The gentlemen are delighted, and send you their most grateful homage,"
+called the prince.
+
+"Then they are all coming?" said Countess Wildenau, taking his arm.
+
+"All, there was no hesitation!" he answered, again noticing in his
+companion's manner the restlessness which had formerly awakened his
+anxiety. As they passed down the street together, her eyes were
+wandering everywhere.
+
+"She is seeking some one," thought the prince.
+
+"Let me tell you that I am charmed with this Ammergau Christ," cried
+the duchess, as they approached the blacksmith's house. She was
+sitting in the garden, which contained a tolerably large manure
+heap, a "Saletl," the name given to an open summer-house, and three
+fruit-trees, amid which the clothes lines were stretched. On the house
+was a rudely painted Madonna, life-size, with the usual bunch of
+flowers, gazing with a peculiar expression at the homage offered to her
+son, or at least, so it seemed to the countess.
+
+"Have you seen him, Duchess? I am beginning to be jealous!" said the
+countess with a laugh intended to be natural, but which sounded a
+little forced.
+
+The visitors entered the arbor; after an exchange of greeting, the
+duchess told her guests that she had been with the ladies to the
+drawing-school, where they had met Freyer. The head-master (the son of
+Countess von Wildenau's host) had presented him to the ladies, and he
+had been obliged to exchange a few words with them, then he made his
+escape. They were "fairly _wild_." His bearing, his dignity, the
+blended courtesy and reserve of his manner, so modest and yet so proud,
+and those eyes!
+
+The prince was on coals of fire.
+
+The blacksmith was hammering outside, shoeing a horse whose hoof was so
+crooked that the iron would not fit. The man's face was dripping with
+sooty perspiration, yet when he turned it toward the ladies, they saw a
+classic profile and soft, dreamy eyes.
+
+"Beautiful hair and eyes appear to be a specialty among the Ammergau
+peasants," said the prince somewhat abruptly, interrupting the duchess.
+"Look at yonder smith, wash off the soot and we shall have a superb
+head of Antinous."
+
+"Yes, isn't that true? He is a splendid fellow, too," replied the
+duchess. "Let us call him here."
+
+The smith was summoned and, wiping the grime from his face with his
+shirt sleeves, modestly approached. The prince watched with honest
+admiration the man's gait and bearing, clear-cut, intelligent features,
+and slender, lithe figure, which betrayed no sign of his hard labor
+save in the tense sinews and muscles of the arms.
+
+"I must apologize," he said in excellent German--the Ammergau people
+use dialect only when speaking to one another--"I am in my working
+clothes and scarcely fit to be seen."
+
+"You have a charming voice. Do you sing baritone?"
+
+"Yes, Your Highness, but I rarely sing at all. My voice unfortunately
+is much injured by my hard toil, and my fingers are growing too stiff
+to play on the piano, so I cannot accompany myself."
+
+"Do you play on the piano?"
+
+"Certainly, Your Highness."
+
+"Good Heavens, where did you learn?"
+
+"Here in the village, Your Highness. Each one of us learns to use some
+instrument, else where should we obtain an orchestra for the Passion?"
+
+"Think of it!" said the duchess in French, "A blacksmith who plays on
+the piano; peasants who form an orchestra!" Then addressing her host in
+German, she added, "I suppose you have a church choir!"
+
+"Certainly, Your Highness."
+
+"And what masses do you perform?"
+
+"Oh, nearly all the beautiful ones, some dating from the ancient
+Cecilian Church music, others from the later masters, Handel, Bach,
+down to the most modern times. A short time ago I sung Gounod's Ave
+Maria in the church, and this winter we shall give a Gethsemane by
+Kempter."
+
+"Is it possible!" said the duchess, "_c'est unique!_ Then you are
+really all artists and ought not to follow such hard trades."
+
+"Yes, Duchess, but we must _live_. Our wives and children must be
+supported. _All_ cannot be wood-carvers, smiths are needed, too. If the
+artisan is not rough, the trade is no disgrace."
+
+"But have you time, with your business, for such artistic work?"
+
+"Oh, yes, we do it in the evenings, after supper. We meet at half past
+seven and often practise our music till twelve or even one o'clock."
+
+"Oh, how tired you must be to study far into the night after the labor
+of the day."
+
+"Oh, that doesn't harm us, it is our recreation and pleasure. Art is
+the only thing which lifts men above their daily cares! I would not
+wish to live, if I did not possess it, and we all have the same
+feeling."
+
+The ladies exchanged glances.
+
+"But, when do you sleep? You must be obliged to rise early in the
+morning."
+
+"Oh, we Ammergau people are excitable, we need little sleep. To bed at
+one and up at five gives us rest enough."
+
+"Well, then, you must live well, or you could not bear it."
+
+"Yes, we live very well, we have meat every Sunday," said the smith
+with much satisfaction.
+
+"_C'est touchant!_" cried the duchess. "Meat _once_ a week? And the
+rest of the time?"
+
+"Oh, we eat something made of flour. My wife is an excellent cook, she
+was the cook in Count P.'s household!" he added with great pride,
+casting an affectionate glance at the plump little woman, holding a
+child in her arms, standing at the door of the house. He would gladly
+have presented this admirable wife to the strangers, but the ladies
+seemed less interested in her.
+
+"What do you eat in the evening?"
+
+"We have coffee at six o'clock, and drink a few glasses of beer when we
+meet at the tavern."
+
+"And do all the Ammergau people live so?"
+
+"All. No one wants anything different."
+
+"Even your Christ?"
+
+"Oh, he fares worse than we, he is unmarried and has no one to care for
+him."
+
+"What a life, dear Countess, what a life!" the duchess, murmured in
+French.
+
+"But you have a piano in your house. If you are able to get such an
+instrument, you ought to afford better food," said Her Excellency.
+
+The blacksmith smiled, "If we had had better food, we should not have
+been able to buy the piano. We saved it from our stomachs."
+
+"That is the true Ammergau spirit," said the countess earnestly. "They
+will starve to secure a piano. Every endeavor is toward the ideal and
+the intellectual, for which they are willing to make any personal
+sacrifice. I have never seen such people."
+
+"Nor have I. It seems as if the Passion Play gave them all a special
+consecration," answered the duchess.
+
+Countess von Wildenau rose. Her thoughts were so far away that she was
+about to take leave without remembering her invitation. But Prince Emil
+said impressively:
+
+"Countess, surely you are forgetting that you intended to _invite_ the
+ladies--."
+
+"Yes, yes," she interrupted, "it had almost escaped my mind." The smith
+modestly went back to his work, for the horse was growing restless, and
+the odor of burnt horn and hair soon pervaded the atmosphere.
+
+Meanwhile the countess delivered her invitation, which was accepted
+with great enthusiasm.
+
+A stately, athletic man in a blouse, carrying a chest on his shoulder,
+passed the ladies. The burden was terribly heavy, for even his
+powerful, well-knit frame staggered under it, and his handsome kingly
+head was bowed almost to the earth.
+
+"Look, Countess, that is Thomas Rendner the Roman procurator. We shall
+soon make the acquaintance of the whole company. We sit here in the
+summer-house like a spider in its web, not a fly can pass unseen."
+
+"Good Heavens, that Pilate!" exclaimed the countess, watching him with
+sympathizing eyes, "Poor man, to-day panting under an oppressive
+burden, to-morrow robed in purple and crowned with a diadem, only to
+exchange them again on the third day, for the porter's dusty blouse,
+and take the yoke upon himself once more. What a contrast, and yet he
+loses neither his balance nor his temper! Indeed I think that we can
+learn as much here outside of the Passion Play, as from the spectacle
+itself."
+
+"Yes, if we watch with your deep, thoughtful eyes, my dear Countess!"
+said the duchess, kissing the speaker's brow. "We will discuss this
+subject farther when we drive with you the day after to-morrow."
+
+The ladies parted. Madeleine von Wildenau, leaning on the prince's arm,
+walked silently through the crowd which now, on the eve of the play,
+thronged the narrow streets. The din and tumult were enough to deprive
+one of sight and hearing. Dazed by the confusion, she clung closely to
+her companion's arm.
+
+"Good Heavens, is it possible that Christianity still possesses such a
+power of attraction!" she murmured, involuntarily, while struggling
+through the throng.
+
+The ground in the Ettal road trembled under the roll of carriage
+wheels. The last evening train had arrived, and a flood of people and
+vehicles poured into the village already almost crushed beneath the
+tide of human beings. Horses half driven to death, dragging at a gallop
+heavy landaus crowded with six or eight persons. Lumbering wagons
+containing twenty or thirty travellers just as they had climbed in,
+sometimes half clinging to the steps or the boxes of the wheels, swayed
+to and fro; intoxicated, excited by the mad rush and the fear of being
+left behind--raging and shrieking like a horde of unchained fiends come
+to disturb the sacred drama rather than pious pilgrims who wished to
+witness it, the frantic mob poured in. "_Sauve qui peut_" was the
+motto, the prince lifted the countess on a small post by the roadside.
+Just at that moment the fire-brigade marched by to watch the theatre.
+It was said that several of the neighboring parishes, envious of
+Ammergau, had threatened to ruin the Play by setting the theatre on
+fire. Fire engines and strangers' carriages passed pell-mell. The
+people of Ammergau themselves, alarmed and enraged by the cruel threat,
+were completely disconcerted; passionate discussions, vehement
+commands, and urgent entreaties were heard on all sides. Prompt and
+energetic action was requisite, the fate of all Ammergau was at stake.
+
+The bells now began to ring and at the same moment the first of the
+twenty-five cannon shots which were to consecrate the morrow's festival
+was discharged, and the musicians passed through the streets.
+
+The air fairly quivered with the deafening uproar of all these mingling
+waves of sound. Darkness was gathering, the countess grew giddy, she
+felt as if she were stifling in the tumult. A pair of horses fell just
+below them, causing a break in the line of carriages, which the prince
+used to get his companion across, and she at last reached home, almost
+fainting. Her soul was stirred to its inmost depths. What was the power
+which produced such effects?
+
+Was this the calm, petty doctrine, which had been inculcated so
+theoretically and coldly at the school-room desk and from the pulpit,
+and with which, when a child, she has been disgusted by an
+incomprehensible school-catechism? Was this the doctrine which, from
+earliest childhood, had been nothing more than a wearisome dead letter,
+to which, as it had become the religion of the state, an official visit
+to church was due from time to time, just as, on certain days, cards
+were left on ambassadors and government officials?
+
+The wind still bore from the village the noise of the throngs of
+people, the ringing of the bells, and the thunder of the cannon,
+blended with occasional bursts of music. The countess had had similar
+experiences when tidings of great victories had been received during
+the last war, but those were _facts_. For the first time in her life
+she asked herself if Christianity was a fact? And if not, if it was
+only an idea, what inherent power, after the lapse of nearly two
+thousand years, produced such an effect?
+
+Why did all these people come--why did she _herself_? The human race is
+homesick, it no longer knows for what; it is only a vague impulse, but
+one which instinctively draws it in the direction where it perceives a
+sign, a vestige of what it has lost and forever seeks. Such, she knows
+it now, such is the feeling of all the throngs that have flocked hither
+to-day, she realized that at this moment she was a microcosm of weary,
+wandering mankind seeking for salvation.
+
+And as when, deceived and disappointed in everything, we seek the
+picture of some dead friend, long since forgotten, and press it weeping
+to our lips, she clung to the image of the Redeemer. Now that
+everything had deluded her, no system which had boastfully promised a
+victory over calamity and death had stood the test, after one makeshift
+had supplanted another without supplying what was lacking, after all
+the vaunted remedies of philosophy and materialism proved mere
+palliatives which make the evil endurable for the moment but do not
+heal it, suffering, cheated humanity was suddenly seeking the image of
+the lost friend so long forgotten. But a dead friend cannot come forth
+from a picture, a painted heart can no longer beat. Could _Christ_ rise
+again in His image? Could _His_ word live once more on the lips of a
+stranger? And would the drops of artificial blood, trickling from the
+brow of the personified Messiah, possess redeeming power?
+
+That was the miracle which attracted the throngs from far and near,
+_that_ must be the marvel, and tomorrow it would be revealed.
+
+"Of what are you dreaming, Countess Madeleine?" asked the prince after
+a pause which she had spent in the wild-grape arbor near the house
+gazing into vacancy, with her head resting on her hand. She looked up,
+glancing at him as if she had entirely forgotten his presence. "I don't
+know what is the cause of my emotion, the tumult in the village has
+stirred me deeply! I feel that only potent things could send such a
+storm before them, and it seems as if it was the portent of some
+wonderful event!"
+
+"Good Heavens! What extravagant fancies, my dear Countess! I believe
+you add to all your rich gifts the dangerous one of poesy! I admire and
+honor you for it--but I can perceive in this storm nothing save a proof
+that curiosity is the greatest and most universal trait in human
+character, and that these throngs desire nothing more than the
+satisfaction of their curiosity. The affair is fashionable just now,
+and that explains the whole."
+
+"Prince, I pity you for what you have just said," replied the countess,
+rising. Her face wore the same cold, lifeless expression as on the day
+of her arrival.
+
+"But, my dearest friend, for Heavens's sake tell me, did _you_ and _I_
+come from any other motive than curiosity?"
+
+"You, no! I, yes!"
+
+"Don't say that, _chere amie_. You, the scholar, superior to us all in
+learning; you, the disciple of Schopenhauer, the proud philosopher, the
+believer in Nirvana."
+
+"Yes, I, Prince!" cried the countess, "The philosopher who was not
+happy for an hour, not content for a moment. What is this Nirvana? A
+stone idol, which the fruitless speculation of our times has conjured
+from the rubbish of archaeological excavations, and which stares at us
+with its vacant eyes until we fall into an intellectual hypnotism which
+we mistake for peace." An expression of bitter sarcasm rested on her
+lips. "I came here to bring pessimism and Christianity face to face. I
+thought it would be very novel to see the stone idol Nirvana, with his
+hands on his lap and the silence of eternal death on his lips, watch
+the martyr, dripping with sweat and blood, bear His own cross to the
+place of execution and cheerfully take up the work where Buddha
+faltered; on the boundary of non-existence. I wanted to see how the two
+would treat each other, if for nothing more than a comparative study of
+religion."
+
+"You are irresistible in your charming mockery, dearest Countess, yet
+logically I cannot confess myself conquered!" replied the prince. The
+countess smiled: "Of course, when did a man ever acknowledge that to a
+woman, where intellectual matters were concerned? A sunny curl, the
+seductive arch of an upper lip, a pair of blue eyes sparkling with
+tears will make you lords of creation the dupes of the most ordinary
+coquette or even the yielding toy of the dullest ignorance. We women
+all know it! But, if we assail your dry logic, you are as unconquerable
+as Antaeus so long as he stood upon the earth! You, too, could only be
+vanquished by whoever had the power to lift you from the ground where
+_you_ stand."
+
+"You might have that power, Countess. Not by your arguments, but by
+your eyes. You know that _one_ loving glance would not only lift me
+from the earth but into heaven, and then you could do with me what you
+would."
+
+"You have forfeited the loving glance! Perhaps it might have _rewarded_
+your assent, but it would never _purchase_ it, I scorn bribed judges,
+for I am sure of my cause!"
+
+"Countess, pardon my frankness: it is a pity that you have so much
+intellect."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because it leads you into sophistical by-ways; your tendency to
+mysticism gives an apparently logical foundation and thereby
+strengthens you the more in this dangerous course. A more simple,
+temperate judgment would _guard_ you from it."
+
+"Well, Prince--" she looked at him pityingly, contemptuously--"may
+Heaven preserve me from _such_ a judgment as well as from all who may
+seek to supply its place to me. Excuse me for this evening. I should
+like to devote an hour to these worthy people and soothe my nerves--I
+have been too much excited by the scenes we have witnessed. Goodnight,
+Prince!"
+
+Prince Emil turned pale. "Good-night, Countess. Perhaps to-morrow you
+will be somewhat more humane in this cat and mouse game; to-day I am
+sent home with a bleeding wound." With lips firmly compressed, he bowed
+his farewell and left the garden. Madeleine looked after him: "He is
+angry. I cannot help him, he deserved it. Oh, foolish man, who deemed
+yourself so clever! Do you suppose this glowing heart desires no other
+revelations than those of pure reason? Do you imagine that the
+arguments of all the philosophical systems of humanity could offer it
+that for which it longs? Shall I find it? Heaven knows! But one thing
+is certain, I shall no longer seek it in _you_."
+
+The sound of moans and low sobs came from the chamber above the
+countess' room. It was Josepha. Countess Wildenau passed through the
+little trap-door and entered it. The girl was kneeling beside the bed,
+with her face buried in the pillows, to shut out the thunder of the
+cannon and the sound of the bells, which summoned the actors in the
+sacred Play from which she alone, the sinner, the outcast, was shut
+out.
+
+Mary Magdalene, too, had sinned and erred, yet she had been suffered to
+remain near the Lord. She was permitted to touch His divine body and to
+wipe His feet with her hair! But _she_ was not allowed to render this
+service to His _image_! She grasped the mass of wonderful silken locks
+which fell in loosened masses over her shoulders. What did she care for
+this beautiful hair now? She would fain cut it off and throw it into
+the Ammer or, better still, bury it in the earth, the earth on which
+the Passion Theatre stood. With a hasty movement, she snatched a pair
+of shears which lay beside the bed, and just as the countess' foot
+touched the threshold, a sharp, cutting sound was heard and the most
+beautiful red hair that ever adorned a girl's head fell like a dying
+flame at her feet. "Josepha, what are you doing?" cried the countess,
+"Oh, what a pity to lose that magnificent hair!"
+
+"What do I care for it?" sobbed Josepha, "It can never be seen in the
+Play! When the performance is over, I will slip into the theatre before
+we leave and bury it under the stage, where the cross stands. There I
+will leave it, there it shall stay, since I am no longer able to make
+it serve Him." She threw herself into the countess' arms and hid her
+tear-stained face upon her bosom. Alas, she was not even allowed to
+appear among the populace, she alone was banished from the cross, yet
+she knew that the _real_ Saviour would have suffered her to be at His
+feet as well as Mary Magdalene.
+
+"Console yourself, Josepha, your belief does not deceive you. The real
+Christ would not have punished you so cruelly. Men are always more
+severe than God. Whence should they obtain divine magnanimity, they are
+so petty. They are like a servant who is arrogant and avaricious for
+his master because he does not understand his wishes and turns from the
+door the poor whom his master would gladly have welcomed and
+refreshed." She kissed the young girl's brow. "Be calm, Josepha, gather
+up your hair, you shall bury it to-morrow in the earth which is so dear
+to you. I promise that I will think of you when the other Magdalene
+appears; your shadow shall stand between her and me, so that I shall
+see you alone! Will this be a slight consolation to you?"
+
+Josepha, for the first time, looked up into the countess' eyes with a
+smile. "Yes, it is a comfort. Ah, you are so kind, you take pity on me
+while all reproach and condemn me."
+
+"Oh, Josepha! If people judged thus, which of us would be warranted in
+casting the first stone at you?" The countess uttered the words with
+deep earnestness, and thoughtfully left the room.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+
+                           THE PASSION PLAY.
+
+
+Day was dawning. The first rays of the morning sun, ever broader and
+brighter, were darting through the air, whose blue waves surged and
+quivered under the flaming couisers of the ascending god of day.
+Aphrodite seemed to have bathed and left her veil in the foam of the
+wild mountain stream into which the penitent Magdalene had tried to
+throw herself. Apollo in graceful sport, had gathered the little white
+clouds to conceal the goddess and they waved and fluttered merrily in
+the morning breeze around the rushing chariot. Then, as if the
+thundering hoof-beats of the fiery chargers had echoed from the vaulted
+arch of the firmament, the solemn roar of cannon announced the approach
+of the _other_ god, the poor, unassuming, scourged divinity in His
+beggar-garb. The radiant charioteer above curbed his impatient steeds
+and gazed down from his serene height upon the conflict, the torturing,
+silent conflict of suffering upon the bloody battlefield of the
+timorous earth. Smiling, he shook his divine head, for he could not
+understand the cause of all this. Why should a god impose upon Himself
+such misery and humiliation! But he knows that He was a more powerful
+god, for _he_ was forced to fly from the zenith when the former rose
+from His grave.--So thought Helios, glancing over at the gentle goddess
+Selene, whose wan face, paling in his presence, was turned full toward
+the earth. She could not bear to behold the harrowing spectacle, she
+was the divinity of peace and slumber, so, averting her mild
+countenance, she bade Helios farewell and floated away to happier
+realms.
+
+Blest gods, ye who sit throned in eternal beauty, eternal peace; ye who
+are untouched by the grief and suffering of the human race, who descend
+to earth merely to taste the joys of mortals when it pleases ye to add
+them to your divine delights, look down upon the gods whom sorrowing
+humanity, laden with the primeval curse, summoned from his heaven to
+aid, where none of ye aided, to give what none of ye gave, _the heart's
+blood of love!_ Gaze from your selfish pleasures, ye gay Hellenic
+deities, behold from your Valhalla, grim divinities of the Norsemen,
+look hither, ye dull, stupid idols of ancient India, hither where, from
+love for the human race, a god bleeds upon the martyr's cross--behold
+and turn pale! For when the monstrous deed is done, and the night has
+passed. He will cast aside His humble garb and shine in His divine
+glory. Ye will then be nothing but the rainbow which shimmers in
+changeful hues above His head! "Excelsior!" echoes a voice through the
+pure morning-sky and: "Gloria in excelsis, Deo!" peals from the church,
+as the priests chant the early mass.
+
+An hour later the prince stopped before the door in a carriage to
+convey the countess to the Passion Theatre, for the way was long and
+rough.
+
+He gave the Gross sisters strict orders to have everything ready for
+Countess Wildenau's departure at the close of the performance.
+
+"The carriages must stand packed with the luggage before the theatre
+when we come out. The new maid must not be late."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau made no objection to all this, she was very pale
+and deeply agitated. Ludwig Gross, who was also just going to the
+theatre, was obliged to enter the carriage, too; the countess would
+listen to no refusal. The prince looked coldly at him. Ludwig Gross
+raised his hat, saying courteously:
+
+"May I request an introduction?"
+
+The lady blushed. "Herr Gross, head-master of the drawing-school!" She
+paused a moment in embarrassment, Ludwig's bronze countenance still
+retained its expectant expression.
+
+"The Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim," said the prince, relieving
+the countess' embarrassment, and raising his hat.
+
+The drawing-master's delicate tact instantly perceived Prince Emil's
+generous intention.
+
+"Pardon me," he said, with a shade of bashfulness, "I did not know that
+I was in the presence of a gentleman of such high rank--"
+
+"No, no, you were perfectly right," interrupted Prince Emil, who was
+pleased with the man's modest confidence, and immediately entered into
+conversation with him. He asked various questions, and Ludwig described
+how he was frequently compelled to get suitable figures for his tableau
+from the forests and the fields, because the better educated people all
+had parts assigned to them, and how difficult it was to work with this
+untrained material; especially as he had barely two or three minutes to
+arrange a tableau containing three hundred persons.
+
+The countess gazed absently at the motley throngs surging toward the
+Passion Theatre. The fresh morning breeze blew into the carriage. All
+nature was full of gladness, a festal joy which even the countess'
+richly caparisoned horses seemed to share, for they pranced gaily and
+dashed swiftly on as if they would fain vie with the sun-god's steeds
+above. The Bavarian flags on the Passion Theatre fluttered merrily
+against the blue sky, and now another discharge of cannon announced the
+commencement of the performance. The carriage made its way with much
+difficulty through the multitude to the entrance, which was surrounded
+by natives of Ammergau. Ludwig Gross ordered the driver to stop, and
+sprang out. All respectfully made way for him, raising their hats: "Ah,
+Herr Gross! The drawing-master! Good-day!"
+
+"Good-day," replied Ludwig Gross, then unceremoniously giving the
+countess his arm, requested the prince to follow and led them through
+several side passages, to which strangers were not admitted, into the
+space reserved for boxes, where two fine-looking young men, also
+members of the Gross family, the "ushers" were taking tickets. Ludwig
+lifted his hat and left them to go to his work. The prince shook hands
+with him and expressed his thanks. "A cultured man!" he said, after
+Ludwig had gone. Meanwhile one of the ushers had conducted the countess
+to her seat.
+
+There directly before her lay the long-desired goal! A huge
+amphitheatre built in the Greek style. Between the boxes, which
+overlooked the whole, and the stage, under the open sky, extended a
+vast space, whose seats rose to the height of a house. The orchestra,
+too, was roofless, as also were the proscenium and the stage, at whose
+extreme right and left stood the houses of Pilate and Caiaphas, between
+which stretched the streets of Jerusalem. The chorus was stationed on
+the proscenium and here all the great scenes in which the populace took
+part were performed. The main stage, occupying the centre only, as in
+the Greek theatre, was a temple-like covered building with a curtain,
+in a certain sense a theatre within a theatre, where the scenes that
+required a smaller frame were set. Beyond, the whole was surrounded by
+the amphitheatre of the lofty mountains gazing down in majestic repose,
+surmounting and crowning all.
+
+The orchestra was playing the last bars of the overture and the surging
+and hum of the thousands who were finding their seats had at last
+ceased. The chorus came forward, all the singers clad in the Greek
+costume, at their head as choragus Johannes Diemer, arrayed in diadem
+and toga. A majestic figure of true priestly dignity, he moved across
+the stage, fully imbued with the spirit of the sublime drama which it
+was his honorable office to open. Deep silence now reigned throughout
+the audience. It seemed as if nature herself was listening outside, the
+whispering morning breeze held its breath, and not a single bird-note
+was heard. The repose of the Sabbath spread its wings protectingly over
+the whole scene, that nothing should disturb this consecrated mood.
+
+As the stately figures advanced wearing their costly robes with as much
+dignity as if they had never been clad in any other garments, or would
+be forced again to exchange them for the coarse torn blouse of toil; as
+they began to display the art acquired with such self-sacrificing
+devotion after a wearisome day of labor, and the choragus in the
+purest, noblest intonation began the first lines:
+
+
+           "Sink prostrate, overwhelmed with sacred awe,
+            Oh, human race, bowed by the curse of God!"
+
+
+the countess' heart was suddenly stirred by a new emotion and tears
+filled her eyes.
+
+           "Eternal God, Thy stammering children hear,
+            For children's language, aye, is stammering."
+
+
+In these words the devout lips expressed the sacred meaning underlying
+the childish pastime, and those who heard it feel themselves once more
+children--children of the one omnipresent Father.
+
+The prologue was over. The curtain of the central stage rolled up, and
+the first tableau, the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise, was
+revealed. Countess Madeleine gazed at it with kindly eyes, for Ludwig
+Gross' refined artistic instinct was visible to her, his firm hand had
+shaped the rude material into these graceful lines. A second tableau
+followed--the Adoration of the Cross. An empty cross, steeped in light,
+stood on a height worshipped by groups of children and angels. The
+key-note was thus given and the drama began.--The first scene was
+before the temple at Jerusalem--the Saviour's entry was expected.
+Madeleine von Wildenau's heart throbbed heavily. She did not herself
+know the cause of her emotion--it almost robbed her of breath--will it
+be _he_ whom she expects, to whom she is bound by some incomprehensible,
+mysterious spell? Will she find him?
+
+Shouts of "Hosanna!" echoed from the distance--an increasing tumult was
+audible. A crowd of people, rejoicing and singing praises, poured out
+of the streets of Jerusalem--the first heralds of the procession
+appeared, breathlessly announcing His approach.
+
+An indescribable fear overpowered the countess--but it now seemed to
+her as if she did not dread the man whom she expected to see, but Him
+he was to personate. The audience, too, became restless, a vibrating
+movement ran like a faint whisper through the multitude: "He is
+coming!"
+
+The procession now poured upon the stage, a surging mass--passionately
+excited people waving palms, and in their midst, mounted on a miserable
+beast of burden--the Master of the World.
+
+The countess scarcely dared to look, she feared the dismounting, which
+might shock her aesthetic sense. But lightly as a thought, with scarcely
+a movement, he had already slipped from the animal, not one of the
+thousands saw how.
+
+"It is he!" Madeleine's brain whirled, an unspeakable joy overwhelmed
+her: "When shall I behold thee face to face!" her own words, spoken the
+evening before, rang in her ears and--the realization was standing
+before her.
+
+"The Christ!"--a thrill of reverence stirred the throng. Aye, it was
+He, from head to foot! He had not uttered a word, yet all hearts sank
+conquered at his feet. Aye, that was the glance, the dignity, the
+calmness of a God! That was the soul which embraced and cherished a
+world--that was the heart of love which sacrificed itself for man--died
+upon the cross.
+
+Now the lips parted and, like an airy, winged genius the words soared
+upward: A voice like an angel's shouting through the universe: "Peace,
+peace on earth!"--now clear and resonant as Easter bells, now gentle
+and tender as a mother's soothing song beside the bed of her sick
+child. "Source of love--thou art He!"
+
+Mute, motionless, as if transfigured, the countess gazed at the
+miracle--and with her thousands in the same mood. But from her a secret
+bond stretched to him--from her alone among the thousands--a prophetic,
+divine bond, woven by their yearning souls on that night after she had
+beheld the face from which the God so fervently implored now smiled
+consent.
+
+The drama pursued its course.
+
+Christ looked around and perceived the traders with their wares, and
+the tables of the money-changers in the court of the temple. As cloud
+after cloud gradually rises in the blue sky and conceals the sun, noble
+indignation darkened the mild countenance, and the eyes flashed with a
+light which reminded Helios, watching above, of the darts of Zeus.
+
+"My House," saith the Lord, "shall be called a house of prayer, but ye
+have made it a den of thieves!" And as though His wrath was a power,
+which emanating from Him acted without any movement of His, a hurricane
+seemed to sweep over the stands of the traders, while not a single
+vehement motion destroyed the calmness of the majestic figure. The
+tables were overthrown, the money rolled on the ground, the cages of
+the doves burst open, and the frightened birds soared with arrowy speed
+over the heads of the spectators. The traders raged and shrieked, "My
+doves, my doves! My money!" and rushed to save the silver coins and
+scattered wares. But He stood motionless amid the tumult, like the
+stone of which He said: "Whosoever shall fall upon that stone shall be
+broken; but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him to powder."
+
+Then, with royal dignity. He swung the scourge over the backs bowed to
+seize their paltry gains. "Take these things hence, make not my
+Father's house a house of merchandise!" He did not strike, yet it
+seemed as though the scourge had fallen, for the dealers fled in wild
+confusion before the uplifted hand, and terror seized the Pharisees.
+They perceived that He who stood before them was strong enough to crush
+them all! His breath had the might of the storm, His glance was
+consuming flame--His lash felled without striking--He need only will,
+and "in three days" He would build a new temple as He boasted. Roaring
+like the sea in a tempest, the exulting populace surrounded Him,
+yielding to His sway as the waves recede before the breath of the
+mighty ruler.--Aye, this was the potent spirit of the Jehovah of the
+Jews, the Zeus of the Greeks, the Jupiter of the Romans. This man was
+the Son of the God who created Heaven and earth, and it would be an
+easy matter for the Heir of this power to crush the Pharisees without
+stirring a finger--if He desired, but that was the point; it was _not_
+His will, for His mission was a different one! The head once more
+drooped humbly, the brow, corrugated with anger, smoothed. "I have done
+my Father's bidding--I have saved the honor of His House!" The storm
+died away into a whisper, and the mild gaze rested forgivingly upon His
+foes.
+
+The countess' virile heart almost rebelled against this humility, and
+would fain have cried out: "Thou _art_ the Son of God, help Thyself!"
+Her sense of justice, formed according to human ideas, was opposed to
+this toleration, this sacrifice of the most sacred rights! Like Helios
+in the vault above, she could not understand the grandeur, the divinity
+of self humiliation, of suffering truth and purity to be judged by
+falsehood and hypocrisy--instead of using His own power to destroy
+them.
+
+As if the personator of Christ suspected her thoughts he suddenly fixed
+his glance, above the thousands of heads, directly upon her and like a
+divine message the words fell from his lips: "But in many hearts, day
+will soon dawn!" Then, turning with indescribable gentleness to His
+disciples. He added: "Come, let us go into the temple and there worship
+the Father!" He walked toward it, yet it did not seem as if his feet
+moved; He vanished from the spectators' eyes noiselessly, gradually,
+like the fleeting of a happy moment.
+
+The countess covered her eyes with her hand--she felt as if she were
+dreaming a sadly beautiful dream. The prince watched her silently, but
+intently. Nods and gestures of greeting came from the boxes on all
+sides--from the duchess, the diplomatic corps, and numerous
+acquaintances who happened to be there--but the countess saw nothing.
+
+The drama went on. It was the old story of the warfare of baseness
+against nobility, falsehood against truth. The Pharisees availed
+themselves of the injury to the tradesmen's interests to make them
+their allies. The populace, easily deluded, was incited against the
+agitator from "Galilee," who wished to rob them of the faith of their
+fathers and drive the dealers from the temple. So the conspiracy arose
+and swelled to an avalanche to crush the sacred head! Christ had dealt
+a rude blow to all that was base in human nature, but baseness was the
+greater power, to which even God must succumb while He remained a
+dweller upon earth. But, even in yielding, He conquered--death bestowed
+the palm of victory!
+
+Between the first and second act was a tableau, "Joseph sold by his
+Brethren." With thoughtful discrimination every important incident in
+the Play was suggested by a corresponding event in the Old Testament,
+represented by a tableau, in order to show the close connection between
+the Old and the New Testament and verify the words: "that all things
+which are written may be fulfilled."
+
+At last the curtain rose again and revealed the Sanhedrim assembled for
+judgment. Here sat the leaders of the people of Israel, and also of
+Oberammergau. In the midst was Caiaphas, the High-priest, the Chief of
+the Sanhedrim, the burgomaster of Ammergau and chief manager of the
+Passion Play. At his right and left sat the oldest members of the
+community of Ammergau, an old man with a remarkably fine face and long
+white beard, as Annas, and the sacristan, an impressive figure, as
+Nathanael. On both sides, in a wide circle, were the principal men in
+the parish robed as priests and Pharisees. What heads! What figures!
+The burgomaster, Caiaphas, rose and, with a brief address, opened the
+discussion. Poor Son of God, how wilt Thou fare in the presence of this
+mighty one of earth? The burgomaster was the type of the fanatical,
+ambitious priest, not a blind, dull zealot--nay, he was the
+representative of the aristocratic hierarchy, the distinguished men of
+the highest intelligence and culture. A face rigid as though chiselled
+from stone, yet animated by an intellect of diabolical superiority,
+which would never confess itself conquered, which no terror could
+intimidate, no marvel dazzel, no suffering move. Tall and handsome in
+the very flower of manhood, with eyes whose glances pierced like
+javelins, a tiara on his haughty head, robed in all the pomp of
+Oriental priestly dignity, every clanking ornament a symbol of his
+arrogant, iron nature, every motion of his delicate white hands, every
+fold of his artistically draped mantle, every hair of his flowing beard
+a proof of that perfect conscious mastery of outward ceremonial
+peculiar to those who are accustomed to play a shrewdly planned part
+before the public. Thus he stood, terrible yet fascinating, repellent
+yet attractive, nay to the trained eye of an artist who could
+appreciate this masterly blending of the most contradictory influences,
+positively enthralling.
+
+This was the effect produced upon Countess Wildenau. The feeling of
+indication roused by the incomprehensible humiliation of the divine
+Martyr almost tempted her to side with the resolute foe who manfully
+defended his own honor with his god's. A noble-hearted woman cannot
+withstand the influence of genuine intellectual manfulness, and until
+the martyrdom of Christ became _heroism_, the firm, unyielding
+high-priest exerted an irresistible charm over the countess. The
+conscious mastery, the genius of the performer, the perfection of his
+acting, roused and riveted the artistic interest of the cultivated
+woman, and as, with the people of Ammergau, the individual and the
+actor are not two distinct personages, as among professional artists,
+she knew that the man before her also possessed a lofty nature, and the
+nimbus of Ammergau constantly increased, the spirit ruling the whole
+obtained still greater sway. The sacristan was also an imposing figure
+as Nathanael, the second high-priest, who, with all the power of
+Pharisaical superiority and sophistry, appeared as Christ's accuser.
+The eloquence of these two judges was overpowered, and into the surging
+waves of passion, Annas, in his venerable dignity, dropped with steady
+hand the sharp anchor of cold, pitiless resolve. An imposing, sinister
+assembly was this great Sanhedrim, and every spectator involuntarily
+felt the dread always inspired by a circle of stern, cruel despots.
+Poor Lamb, what will be Thy fate?
+
+Destiny pursued its course. In the next act Christ announced His
+approaching death to the disciples. Now it seemed as though He bore
+upon His brow an invisible helm of victory, on which the dove of the
+Holy Spirit rested with outspread wings. Now He was the hero--the hero
+who _chose_ death. Yet meekness was diffused throughout His whole
+bearing, was the impress of His being; the meekness which spares others
+but does not tremble for itself. A new perception dawned upon the
+countess: to be strong yet gentle was the highest nobility of the
+soul--and as here also the character and its personator were one, she
+knew that the men before her possessed these attributes: strength and
+gentleness. Now her defiant spirit at last melted and she longed to
+take Him to her heart to atone for the injustice of the human race. She
+thanked Simon for receiving the condemned man under his hospitable
+roof.
+
+"Aye, love Him--I, too, love Him?" she longed to cry out to those who
+were ministering to Him. But when Mary Magdalene touched and anointed
+Him she averted her eyes, for she grudged her the privilege and thought
+of her poor, beautiful penitent at home. As He uttered the words:
+"Rise, Magdalene. Darkness is gathering, and the wintry storms are
+raging. Yet be comforted! In the early morning, in the Spring garden,
+thou wilt see me again!" tears streamed form her eyes; "When will the
+morning dawn that I shall greet Thee--in the Spring garden, redeeming
+love?" asked a voice in her heart.
+
+But when Mary appeared and Christ took leave of His mother--when the
+latter sank upon the breast of her divine son and He consoled her with
+a voice whose sweetness no ear had ever heard equalled, a feeling which
+she had never experienced took possession of her: it was neither envy
+nor jealousy--only a sorrowful longing: "If I were only in her place!"
+
+And when Christ said: "My hour is come; now is my soul troubled; and
+what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour: but for this cause
+came I unto this hour!" and Mary, remembering Simeon's words, cried:
+"Simeon, thy prediction--'a sword shall pierce through thy own soul,
+also'--is now fulfilled!" the countess, for the first time, understood
+the meaning of the pictures of Mary with the seven swords in her heart;
+her own was bleeding from the keenness of her anguish. Now, overpowered
+with emotion, He again extended His arms: "Mother, mother, receive thy
+son's fervent gratitude for all the love and faith which thou hast
+bestowed in the thirty-three years of my life: Farewell, dear mother!"
+
+The countess felt as if she would no longer endure it--that she must
+sink in a sea of grief and yearning.
+
+"My son, where shall I see Thee again?" asked Mary.
+
+"Yonder, dear mother, where the words of the Scripture shall be
+fulfilled: 'He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep
+before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth.'" Then, while
+the others were weeping over the impending calamity, Christ said: "Be
+not overcome in the first struggle. Trust in me." And, as He spoke, the
+loving soul knew that it might rest on Him and be secure.
+
+He moved away. Serene, noble, yet humble, He went to meet His death.
+
+The curtain fell--but this time there was no exchange of greetings from
+the boxes, the faces of their occupants were covered to conceal the
+tears of which they were ashamed, yet could not restrain.
+
+The countess and her companion remained silent. Madeleine's forehead
+rested on her hand--the prince was secretly wiping his eyes.
+
+"People of God, lo, thy Saviour is near! The Redeemer, long promised,
+hath come!" sang the chorus, and the curtain rising, showed Christ and
+his disciples on the way to Jerusalem. It was the moment that Christ
+wept over Jerusalem. Tears of the keenest anguish which can pierce the
+heart of a God, tears for the sins of the world! "Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
+if thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things
+which belongs unto thy peace! But now they are hid from thine eyes."
+
+The disciples entreated their Master not to enter the hostile city and
+thus avoid the crime which it was destined to commit. Or to enter and
+show Himself in His power, to judge and to reward.
+
+"Children, what ye desire will be done in its time, but my ways are
+ordered by my Father, and thus saith the Lord: 'My thoughts are not
+your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.'"
+
+And, loyal and obedient, He followed the path of death. Judas alone
+lingered behind, resolving to leave the fallen greatness which promised
+no earthly profit and would bring danger and disgrace upon its
+adherents. In this mood he was met by Dathan, Andreas Gross, who was
+seeking a tool for the vengeance of the money changers. Finding it in
+Judas, he took him before the Sanhedrim.
+
+An impressive and touching tableau now introduced a new period, the
+gathering of manna in the wilderness, which refreshed the starving
+children of Israel. A second followed: The colossal bunch of grapes
+from Canaan. "The Lord miraculously fed the multitude in the desert
+with the manna and rejoiced their hearts with the grapes of Canaan, but
+Jesus offers us a richer banquet from Heaven. From the mystery of His
+body and blood flows mercy and salvation!" sang the chorus. The curtain
+rose again, Christ was at supper with His disciples. He addressed them
+in words of calm farewell. But they did not yet fully understand, for
+they asked who would be _first_ in His heavenly kingdom?
+
+His only answer was to lay aside His upper garment, gird, with divine
+dignity, a cloth about His loins, and kneel to perform for the
+disciples the humblest service--_the washing of their feet_.
+
+The human race looked on in breathless wonder--viewless bands of angels
+soared downward and the demons of pride and defiance in human nature
+fled and hid themselves in the inmost recesses of their troubled
+hearts.
+
+Aye, the strong soul of the woman, which had at first rebelled against
+the patience of the suffering God--now understood it and to her also
+light came, as He had promised and, by the omnipotent feeling which
+urged her to the feet of Him who knelt rendering the lowliest service
+to the least of His disciples, she perceived the divinity of
+_humility_!
+
+It was over. He had risen and put on His upper garment; He stood with
+His figure drawn up to His full height and gazed around the circle:
+"Now ye are clean, but not _all_!"--and His glance rested mournfully on
+Peter, who before the cock crew, would deny Him thrice, and on Judas,
+who would betray Him for thirty pieces of silver.
+
+Then He again took His seat and, as the presentiment of approaching
+death transfigures even the most commonplace mortal and illumines the
+struggling soul at the moment of its separation from the body, so the
+_God_ transfigured the earthly form of the "Son of Man" and appeared
+more and more plainly on the pallid face, ere he left the frail husk
+which He had chosen for His transitory habitation. And as the dying man
+distributes his property among his heirs, _He_ bequeathed His. But He
+had nothing to give, save Himself. As the cloud dissolves into millions
+of raindrops which the thirsting earth drinks, He divided Himself into
+millions of atoms which, in the course of the ages, were to refresh
+millions of human beings with the banquet of love. His body and His
+blood were his legacy. He divided it into countless portions, to
+distribute it among countless heirs, yet it remained _one_ and the
+_part_ is to every one _the whole_. For as an element remains a great
+unity, no matter into how many atoms it may dissolve--as water is
+always water whether in single drops or in the ocean--fire always fire
+in sparks or a conflagration--so Christ is _always Christ_ in the drops
+of the chalice and the particles of the bread, as well as in His
+original person, for He, _too_, is an element, _the element of
+divinity_.
+
+As kindred kneel around the bedside of a loved one who is dying, bedew
+his hand with tears, and utter the last entreaty: "Forgive us, if we
+have ever wounded you?" the thousands of spectators longed to kneel,
+and there was not one who did not yearn to press his lips to the
+wonderful hand which was distributing the bread, and cry: "Forgive us
+our sins." But as reverence for the dying restrains loud lamentations,
+the spectators controlled themselves in order not to sob aloud and thus
+disturb the divine peace throned upon the Conqueror's brow.
+
+Destiny now relentlessly pursued its course. Judas sold his master for
+thirty pieces of silver, and they were paid to him before the
+Sanhedrim. The pieces of silver rang on the stone table upon which they
+were counted out. It seemed as if the clear sound was sharply piercing
+the world, like the edge of a scythe destined to mow down the holiest
+things.
+
+The priests exulted, there was joy in the camp of the foes! All that
+human arrogance and self-conceit could accomplish, raised its head
+triumphantly in Caiaphas. The regal priest stood so firmly upon
+the height of his secular power that nothing could overthrow him,
+and--Jesus of Nazareth must die!
+
+So the evening came when Christ went with the twelve disciples to the
+Mount of Olives to await His doom.
+
+"Father, the hour is come; glorify thy Son, that thy Son may also
+glorify thee! I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do--I
+have manifested thy name unto men! Father, sanctify them through thy
+truth; that they all may be one, as thou, Father, art in me and I in
+thee!"
+
+He climbed the lonely mount in the garden of olive trees to pass
+through the last agony, the agony of death, which seized upon even the
+Son of God so long as He was still bound by the laws of the human body.
+
+"Father, if thou be willing, let this cup pass from me!"
+
+Here Freyer's acting reached its height; it was no longer semblance,
+but reality. The sweat fell in burning drops from his brow, and tears
+streamed from his eyes. "Yet not _my_ will, but _Thine_ be done--Thy
+sacred will!" Clasping his trembling hands, he flung himself prone on
+the ground, hiding his tear-stained face, "Father--Thy son--hear Him!"
+
+The throng breathed more and more heavily, the tears flowed faster. The
+heart of all humanity was touched with the anguished cry: "Oh, sins of
+humanity, ye crush me--oh, the terrible burden--the bitter cup!"
+
+With this anguish the Son of God first drew near to the human race, in
+this suffering He first bent down to mortals that they might embrace
+Him lovingly like a mortal brother. And it was so at this moment, also!
+They would fain have dragged Him from the threatening cross, defended
+Him with their own bodies, purchased his release at any cost--too late,
+_this_ repentance should have come several centuries earlier.
+
+The hour of temptation was over. The disciples had slept and left him
+alone--but the angel of the Lord had comforted Him, the angel whom God
+sends to every one who is deserted by men. He was himself again--the
+Conqueror of the World!
+
+Judas came with the officers and pressed upon the sweet mouth on which
+the world would fain hang in blissful self-forgetfulness--the traitor's
+kiss.
+
+"Judas, can you touch those lips and not fall at the feet of Him you
+have betrayed?" cried a voice in Madeleine von Wildenau's heart. "Can
+you _kiss_ the lips which so patiently endure the death-dealing caress,
+and not find your hate transformed to love?" Ah, only the divine can
+recognize the divine, only sympathetic natures attract one another!
+Judas is the symbol of the godless world, which would no longer
+perceive God's presence, even if He came on earth once more. The
+soldiers, brawny fellows, fell to the ground as He stood before them
+with the words: "I am Jesus of Nazareth!" and He was forced to say:
+"Rise! Fear ye not!" that they might accomplish their work--but Judas
+remained unmoved and delivered Him up.
+
+Christ was a prisoner and descended step by step into the deepest
+ignominy. But no matter through what mire of baseness and brutality
+they dragged Him, haling Him from trial to trial--nothing robbed Him of
+the majesty of the Redeemer! And if His speech had been full of power,
+so was His silence! Before the Sanhedrim, before Herod, and finally
+before Pilate, _He_ was the king, and the mighty ones of earth were
+insignificant in _His_ presence.
+
+"Who knows whether this man is not the son of some god?" murmured the
+polytheistic Romans--and shrank from the mystery which surrounded the
+silent One.
+
+The impression here was produced solely by Freyer's imposing calmness
+and unearthly eyes. The glance he cast at Herod when the latter ordered
+him to perform a miracle--darken the judgment chamber or transform a
+roll of papyrus into a serpent--that one glance, full of dignity and
+gentleness, fixed upon the poor, short-sighted child of the dust was a
+greater miracle than all the conjuring tricks of the Egyptian
+Magicians.
+
+But this very silence, this superiority, filled the priest with furious
+rage and hastened His doom, which He disdained to stay by a single
+word.
+
+True, Pilate strove to save Him. The humane Roman, with his
+aristocratic bearing, as Thomas Rendner personated him with masterly
+skill, formed a striking contrast to the gloomy, fanatical priests, but
+he was not the man for violent measures, and the furious leaders
+understood how to present this alternative. The desire to conciliate,
+the refuge of all weak souls which shrink in terror from catastrophes,
+had already wrested from him a shameful concession--he had suffered the
+Innocent One to be delivered to the scourge.
+
+With clenched teeth the spectators beheld the chaste form, bound to the
+stake and stained with blood, quiver beneath the lashes of the
+executioner, without a murmur of complaint from the silent lips. And
+when He had "had enough," as they phrased it, they placed him on a
+chair, threw a royal mantle about Him, and placed a sceptre of reeds in
+the hand of the mock-king. But He remained mute. The tormentors grew
+more and more enraged--they wanted to have satisfaction, to gloat over
+the moans of the victim--they dealt Him a blow in the face, then a
+second one. Christ did not move. They thrust Him from the chair so that
+He fell on the ground--no one ever forgot the beautiful, pathetic
+figure--but He was still silent! Then one of the executioners brought a
+crown made of huge thorns; He was raised again and the martyr's diadem
+was placed upon His brow. The sharp thorns resisted, they would not fit
+the noble head, so His tormentors took two sticks laid cross-ways, and
+with them forced the spiked coronals so low on His forehead that drops
+of blood flowed! Christ quivered under the keen agony--but--He was
+silent! Then He was dragged out of His blood, a spectacle to the
+populace.
+
+Again Helios above gave the rein to his radiant coursers--he thought of
+all the horrors in the history of his divine House, of the Danaides, of
+the chained Prometheus, and of others also, but he could recall nothing
+comparable to _this_, and _loathed the human race_! Averting his face,
+he guided his weary steeds slowly downward from the zenith.
+
+The evening breeze blew chill upon the scene of agony.
+
+A furious tumult filled the streets of Jerusalem. The priests were
+leading the raging mob to the governor's house--fanning their wrath to
+flame with word and gesture. Caiaphas, Nathanael, the fanatics of
+Judaism--Annas and Ezekiel, each at the head of a mob, rushed from
+three streets in an overwhelming concourse. The populace surged like
+the angry sea, and unchaining yet dominating the elements with word and
+glance the lofty figure of Caiaphas, the high priest, towered in their
+midst.
+
+"Shake it off! Cast from you the yoke of the tempter!"
+
+"He has scorned Moses and the prophets--He has blasphemed God--to the
+cross with the false Messiah!"
+
+"May a curse rest on every one who does not vote for his death--let him
+be cut off from the hereditary rights of our fathers!"
+
+Thus the four leaders cast their watchword like firebrands among the
+throngs, and the blaze spread tumultuously.
+
+"The Nazarene must die--we demand judgment," roared the people. New
+bands constantly flocked in. "Oh, fairest day of Israel! Children, be
+resolute! Threaten a general insurrection. The governor wished to hear
+the voice of the people--let him hear it!" shrieked Caiaphas, and his
+passion stirred the mob to fiercer fury. All pressed forward to the
+house of Pilate. The doors opened and the governor came out. The
+handsome, classic countenance of the Roman expressed deep contempt, as
+he surveyed the frantic mob. Behind him appeared the embodiment of
+sorrow--the picture of all pictures--the Ecce Homo--which all the
+artists of the world have striven to represent, yet never exhausted the
+subject. Here it stood personified--before the eyes of men, and even
+the governor's voice trembled as he pointed to it.
+
+"Behold, _what_ a man!"
+
+"Crucify him!" was the answer.
+
+Pilate endeavored to give the fury of the mob another victim: the
+criminal Barabbas was brought forth and confronted with Christ. The
+basest of human beings and the noblest! But the spectacle did not move
+them, for the patience and serenity of the Martyr expressed a grandeur
+which shamed them all, and _this_ was the intolerable offense! The
+sight of the scourged, bleeding body did not cool their vengeance
+because they saw that the spirit was unbroken! It _must_ be quelled,
+that it might not rise in judgment against them, for they had gone too
+far, the ill-treated victim was a reproach to them--he could not be
+suffered to live longer.
+
+"Release Barabbas! To death with the Nazarene, crucify him!"
+
+Vainly the governor strove to persuade the people. The cool,
+circumspect man was too weak to defy these powers of hatred--he would
+fain save Christ, yet was unwilling to drive the fanatics to extremes.
+So he yielded, but the grief with which he did so, "to avert a greater
+misfortune," absolved him from the terrible guilt whose curse he cast
+upon the leaders' head.
+
+The expression with which he pronounced the sentence, uttered the
+words: "Then take ye Him and crucify Him!" voices the grief of the man
+of culture for eternal beauty.
+
+The bloodthirsty mob burst into a yell of exultation when their victim
+was delivered to them--now they could cool their vengeance on Him! "To
+Golgotha--hence with him to the place of skulls!"
+
+Christ--and Thy sacrifice is for _these_. Alas, the day will come,
+though perchance not for thousands of years, when Thou wilt perceive
+that they were not _worthy_ of it. But that will be the day of
+judgment!
+
+A crowd surged though the streets of Jerusalem--in their midst the
+condemned man, burdened with the instrument of his own martyrdom.
+
+In one corner amid the populace stood Mary, surrounded by a group of
+friends, and the mother beheld her son urged forward, like a beast
+which, when it falls, is forced up with lashes and pressed on till it
+sinks lifeless.
+
+High above in the vaulted heavens, veiled by the gathering dude of
+evening, the gods whispered to one another with secret horror as they
+watched the unprecedented sight. Often as they might behold it, they
+could never believe it.
+
+The procession stopped before a house--Christ sank to the earth.
+
+A man came out and thrust Him from the threshold.
+
+"Hence, there is no place here for you to rest."
+
+Ahasuerus! The tortured sufferer looked at him with the gaze of
+a dying deer--a single mute glance of agony, but the man on whom
+it fell nevermore found peace on earth, but was driven from every
+resting-place, from land to land, from one spot to another--hunted on
+ceaselessly through the centuries--wandering forever.
+
+"He will die on the road"--cried the first executioner, Christ had
+dragged Himself a few steps forward, and fell for the second time.
+
+"Drive him on with blows!" shrieked the Pharisees and the people.
+
+"Oh! where is the sorrow like unto my sorrow?" moaned Mary, covering
+her face.
+
+"He is too weak, some one must help him," said the executioner. He
+could not be permitted to die there--the people must see Him on the
+pillory.
+
+His face was covered with sweat and blood--tears flowed from His eyes,
+but the mute lips uttered no word of complaint. Then His friends
+ventured to go and render whatever aid was permitted. Veronica offered
+Him her handkerchief to wipe His face, and when He returned it, it bore
+in lines of sweat and blood, the portrait which, throughout the ages,
+has exerted the silent magic of suffering in legend and in art.
+
+Simon of Cyrene took the cross from the sinking form to bear it for Him
+to Golgotha, and the women of Jerusalem wept. Christ was standing by
+the roadside exhausted, but when He saw the women with their children,
+the last words of sorrow for their lost ones rose from His heart to His
+lips:
+
+"Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and
+your children."
+
+"For, behold, the days are coming, in the which they shall say: Blessed
+are the barren, and the wombs that never bare, and the paps which never
+gave suck!"
+
+"Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the
+hills. Cover us."
+
+"For if they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the
+dry?"
+
+"Drive the women away! Spare him no longer--hence to the place of
+execution!" the priests commanded.
+
+"To Golgotha--Crucify him!" roared the people. The women were driven
+away; another message from the governor was unheeded, the procession
+moved steadily on to death.
+
+But Mary did not leave Him. With the few faithful friends she joined
+her son's march of suffering, for the steadfastness of maternal love
+was as great as her anguish.
+
+There was a whispering and a murmuring in the air as if the Valkyries
+and the gods of Greece were consulting whether they should aid the Son
+of Man. But they were powerless; the sphere of the Christian's god was
+closed against them.
+
+The scene changed. The chorus, robed in sable mourning cloaks, appeared
+and began the dirge for the dying God. The simple chant recalled an
+ancient Anglo-Saxon song of the cross, composed in the seventh century
+by the skald Caedmon, and which for more than a thousand years lay
+buried in the mysterious spell of the rune.
+
+
+   [4]Methought I saw a Tree in mid-air hang
+      Of trees the brightest--mantling o'er with light-streaks;
+      A beacon stood it, glittering with gold.
+
+            All the angels beheld it,
+            Angel hosts in beauty created.
+            Yet stood it not a pillory of shame.
+            Thither turned the gaze
+            Of spirits blessed,
+            And of earthly pilgrims
+            Of noblest nature.
+            This tree of victory
+            Saw I, the sin-laden one.
+
+            Yet 'mid the golden glitter
+            Were traces of honor.
+            Adown the right side
+            Red drops were trickling.
+            Startled and shuddering
+            Noted I the hovering vision
+            Suddenly change its hue.
+
+            Long lay I pondering
+            Gazing full sadly
+            At the Saviour's Rood.
+            When lo, on my ear
+            Fell the murmur of speech;
+            These are the words
+            The forest uttered:
+
+           "Many a year ago,
+            Yet still my mind holds it,
+            Low was I felled.
+            The dim forest within
+            Hacked from my roots,
+            Haled on by rude woodmen
+            Bracing sinewy shoulders
+            Up the steep mountain side,
+            Till aloft on the summit
+            Firmly they fastened me.
+
+           "I spied the Frey[5] of man with eager haste
+            Approach to mount me; neither bend nor break
+            I durst, for so it was decreed above
+            Though earth about me shook.
+
+           "Up-girded him then the young hero,
+            That was God Almighty,
+            Strong and steady of mood,
+            Stept he on the high gallows:
+            Fearless amongst many beholders
+            For he would save mankind.
+            Trembled I when that 'beorn' climbed me,
+            But I durst not bow to earth."
+
+            There hung the Lord of Hosts
+            Swart clouds veiled the corpse,
+            The sun's light vanished
+            'Neath shadows murk.
+            While in silence drear
+            All creation wept
+            The fall of their king.
+            Christ was on Rood--
+            Thither from afar
+            Men came hastening
+            To aid the noble one.
+
+            Everything I saw,
+            Sorely was I
+            With sorrows harrowed,
+            Yet humbly I inclined
+            To the hands of his servants
+            Striving much to aid them.
+
+            Now from the Rood
+            The mighty God,
+            Spear-pierced and blood-besprent,
+            Gently men lowered;
+            They laid him down limb-weary,
+            They stood at the lifeless head,
+            Gazing at Heaven's Lord,
+            And he there rests awhile,
+            Weary after his mickle death-fight.
+
+
+Such was the paean of Caedmon, mighty among the writers of runes, in
+the seventh century after the Saviour's death. Now, twelve centuries
+later, it lived again, and the terrible event was once more enacted,
+just as the skald had sung, just as it happened nearly two thousand
+years ago.
+
+What is space, what is time to aught that is rooted in love?
+
+The dirge of the chorus had died away. A strange sound behind the
+curtain accompanied the last verses--the sound of hammering--could it
+be? No, it would be too horrible. The audience heard, yet _would_ not
+hear. A deathlike stillness pervaded the theatre--the blows of the
+hammer became more and more distinct--the curtain rolled upward--there
+He lay with His feet toward the spectators, flat upon the cross. And
+the executioners, with heavy blows, drove nails through His limbs; they
+pierced the kind hands which had never done harm to any living
+creature, but wherever they were gently laid, healed all wounds and
+stilled all griefs; the feet which had borne the divine form so lightly
+that it seemed to float over the burning sand of the land and the
+surging waves of the sea, always on a mission of love. Now He lay in
+suffering on the ground, stretched upon the accursed timbers--half
+benumbed, like a stricken stag. At the right and left stood the lower
+crosses of the two criminals. These men merely had their arms thrown
+over the cross-beams and tied with ropes, only the feet were fastened
+with nails. Christ alone was nailed by both hands and feet, because the
+Pharisees were tortured by a foreboding that He could not be wholly
+killed. Had they dared, they would have torn Him to pieces, and
+scattered the fragments to the four winds, in order to be sure that He
+would not rise on the third day, as He had predicted.
+
+The executioners had completed the binding of the thieves. "Now the
+King of the Jews must be raised."
+
+"Lift the cross! Take hold!" the captain commanded. The spectators held
+their breath, every heart stood still! The four executioners grasped it
+with their brawny arms. "Up! Don't let go!"
+
+The cross is ponderous, the men pant, bracing their shoulders against
+it--their veins swell--another jerk--it sways--"Hold firm! Once
+more--put forth your strength!" and in a wide sweep it moved
+upward--all cowered back shuddering at the horrible spectacle.
+
+"It is not, It cannot be!" Yet it is, it can be! Horror thrilled the
+spectators, their limbs trembled. One grasped another, as if to hold
+themselves from falling. It was rising, the cross was rising above the
+world! Higher--nearer! "Brace against it--don't let go!"
+
+It stood erect and was firm.
+
+There hung the divine figure of sorrow, pallid and wan. The nails were
+driven through the bleeding hands and feet--and the eye which would
+fain deny was forced to witness it, the heart that would have
+prevented, was compelled to bear it. But the scene could be endured no
+longer, the grief restrained with so much difficulty found vent in loud
+sobs, and the hands trembling with a feverish chill were clasped with
+the _same_ feeling of adoring love. Unspeakable compassion was poured
+forth in ceaseless floods of tears, and rose gathering in a cloud of
+pensive melancholy around the head of the Crucified One to soothe His
+mortal anguish. By degrees their eyes became accustomed to the scene
+and gained strength to gaze at it. Divine grace pervaded the slender
+body, and--as eternal beauty reconciles Heaven and hell and
+transfigures the most terrible things--horror gradually merged into
+devout admiration of the perfect human beauty revealed in chaste repose
+and majesty before their delighted gaze. The countess had clasped her
+hands over her breast. The world lay beneath her as if she was floating
+above with Him on the cross. She no longer knew whether he was a _man_
+or Christ Himself--she only knew that the universe contained _nothing_
+save that form.
+
+Her eyes were fixed upon the superhuman vision, tear after tear
+trickled down her cheeks. The prince gazed anxiously at her, but she
+did not notice it--she was entranced. If she could but die now--die at
+the foot of the cross, let her soul exhale like a cloud of incense,
+upward to Him.
+
+Darkness was gathering. The murmuring and whispering in the air drew
+nearer--was it the Valkyries, gathering mournfully around the hero who
+scorned the aid. Was it the wings of the angel of death? Or was it a
+flock of the sacred birds which, legend relates, strove to draw out the
+nails that fastened the Saviour to the cross until their weak bills
+were crooked and they received the name of "cross-bills."
+
+The sufferer above was calm and silent. Only His lambent eyes spoke,
+spoke to those invisible powers hovering around Him in the final hour.
+
+Beneath His cross the soldiers were casting lots for His garments--the
+priests were exulting--the brute cynicism was watching with wolfish
+greed for the victim to fall into its clutches, while shouting with
+jeering mocking: If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross!
+
+He trusted in God; let Him deliver Him now, if He will have Him!--
+
+"Thou that destroyest the temple and buildest it in three days, save
+thyself. Show thy power, proud King of the Jews!"
+
+The tortured sufferer painfully turned His head.
+
+"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.--"
+
+Then one of the malefactors, even in his own death agony, almost mocked
+Him, but the other rebuked him; "We receive the due reward of our
+deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss!" Then he added
+beseechingly: "Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom."
+
+Christ made the noble answer: "Verily I say unto thee, to-day shalt
+thou be with me in paradise."
+
+There was a fresh roar of mockery from the Pharisees. "He cannot save
+himself, yet promises the kingdom of heaven to others."
+
+But the Saviour no longer heard, His senses were failing; He bent His
+head toward Mary and John. "Woman, behold thy son! Son, behold thy
+mother!"
+
+The signs of approaching death appeared. He grew restless--struggled
+for breath, His tongue clung to His palate.
+
+"I thirst."
+
+The sponge dipped in vinegar was handed to him on a long spear.
+
+He sipped but was not refreshed. The agony had reached its climax:
+"Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" He cried from the depths of His
+breaking heart, a wonderful waving motion ran through the noble form in
+the last throes of death. Then, with a long sigh, He murmured in the
+tones of an AEolian harp: "It is finished! Father, into Thy hands I
+commend my spirit!" gently bowed his head and expired.
+
+A crashing reverberation shook the earth. Helios' chariot rolled
+thundering into the sea. The gods fled, overwhelmed and scattered by
+the hurrying hosts of heaven. Dust whirled upward from the ground and
+smoke from the chasms, darkening the air. The graves opened and sent
+forth their inmates. In the mighty anguish of love, the Father rends
+the earth as He snatches from it the victim He has too long left to
+pitiless torture! The false temple was shattered, the veil rent--and
+amid the flames of Heaven the Father's heart goes forth to meet the
+maltreated, patient, obedient Son.
+
+"Come, thou poor martyr!" echoed yearningly through the heavens. "Come,
+thou poor martyr!" repeated every spectator below.
+
+Yet they were still compelled to see the beloved body pierced with a
+sharp lance till the hot blood gushed forth--and it seemed as if the
+thrust entered the heart of the entire world! They were still forced to
+hear the howling of the wolves disputing over the sacred corpse--but at
+last the tortured soul was permitted to rest.
+
+The governor's hand had protected the lifeless body and delivered it to
+His followers.
+
+The multitude dispersed, awe-stricken by the terrible portents--the
+priests, pale with terror, fled to their shattered temple. Golgotha
+became empty. The jeers and reviling had died away, the tumult in
+nature had subsided--and the sacred stillness of evening brooded over
+those who remained. "He has fulfilled His task--He has entered into the
+rest of the Father." The drops of blood fell noiselessly from the
+Redeemer's heart upon the sand. Nothing was heard save the low sobbing
+of the women at the foot of the cross.
+
+Then pitying love approached, and never has a paean of loyalty been sung
+like that which the next hour brought. The first blades were now
+appearing of that love whose seed has spread throughout the world!
+
+Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus came with ladders and tools to take
+down the body.
+
+Ascending, they wound about the lifeless form long bands of white
+linen, whose ends they flung down from the cross. These were grasped by
+the friends below as a counterpoise to lower it gently down. Joseph and
+Nicodemus now began to draw out the nails with pincers; the cracking
+and splintering of the wood was heard, so firm was the iron.
+
+Mary sat on a stone, waiting resignedly, with clasped hands, for her
+son. "Noble men, bring me my child's body soon!" she pleaded softly.
+
+The women spread a winding sheet at her feet to receive it.
+
+At last the nails were drawn out and--
+
+
+           "Now from the rood
+            The mighty God
+            Men gently lowered."
+
+
+Cautiously one friend laid the loosened, rigid arms of the dead form
+upon the other's shoulders, that they might not fall suddenly, Joseph
+of Arimathea clasped the body: "Sweet, sacred burden, rest upon my
+shoulders."
+
+He descended the ladder with it. Half carried, half lowered in the
+bands, the lifeless figure slides to the foot of the instrument of
+martyrdom.
+
+Nicodemus extended his arms to him: "Come, sacred corpse of my only
+friend, let me receive you."
+
+They bore Him to Mary--
+
+
+           "They laid Him down limb-weary
+            They stood at the lifeless head."
+
+
+that the son might rest once more in the mother's lap.
+
+She clasped in her arms the wounded body of the son born in anguish the
+second time.
+
+Magdalene knelt beside it. "Let me kiss once more the hand which has so
+often blessed me." And with chaste fervor the Penitent's lips touched
+the cold, pierced hand of the corpse.
+
+Another woman flung herself upon Him. "Dearest Master, one more tear
+upon Thy lifeless body!" And the sobbing whisper of love sounded sweet
+and soothing like vesper-bells after a furious storm.
+
+But the men stood devoutly silent:
+
+
+           "Gazing at Heaven's Lord,
+            And He there rests awhile
+            Weary after his mickle death-fight."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VIII.
+
+                                FREYER.
+
+
+The Play was over. "Christ is risen!" He had burst the sepulchre and
+hurled the guards in the dust by the sight of His radiant apparition.
+He had appeared to the Penitent as a simple gardener "early in the
+morning," as He had promised, and at last had been transfigured and had
+risen above the world, bearing in His hand the standard of victory.
+
+The flood of human beings poured out of the close theatre into the open
+air. Not loudly and noisily, as they had come--no, reverently and
+gravely, as a funeral train disperses after the obsequies of some noble
+man; noiselessly as the ebbing tide recedes after flood raised by a
+storm. These were the same people, yet they _returned_ in a far
+different mood.
+
+The same vehicles in which yesterday the travelers had arrived in so
+noisy a fashion, now bore them away, but neither shouts nor cracking of
+whips was heard--the drivers knew that they must behave as if their
+carriages were filled with wounded men.
+
+And this was true. There was scarcely one who did not suffer as if the
+spear which had pierced the Saviour's heart had entered his own, who
+did not feel the wounds of the Crucified One in his own hands and feet!
+The grief which the people took with them was grand and godlike, and
+they treasured it carefully, they did not desire to lose any portion of
+it, for--we love the grief we feel for one beloved--and to-day they had
+learned to love Christ.
+
+So they went homeward.
+
+The last carriages which drew up before the entrance were those of the
+countess and her friends. The gentlemen of the diplomatic corps were
+already standing below, waiting for Countess Wildenau to assign them
+their seats in the two landaus. But the lady was still leaning against
+the pillar which supported one end of the box. Pressing her
+handkerchief to her eyes, she vainly strove to control her tears. Her
+heart throbbed violently, her breath was short and quick--she could not
+master her emotion.
+
+The prince stood before her, pale and silent, his eyes, too, were
+reddened by weeping.
+
+"Try to calm yourself!" he said firmly. "The ladies are still in their
+box, the duchess seems to expect you to go to her. A woman of the
+world, like yourself, should not give way so."
+
+"Give way, do you call it?" repeated Madeleine, who did not see that
+Prince Emil, too, was moved. "We shall never understand each other."
+
+At this moment the ladies left their box and crossed the intervening
+space. They were the last persons in the theatre. The duchess, without
+a word, threw her arms around Countess von Wildenau's neck. Her
+ladies-in-waiting, too, approached with tearful eyes, and when the
+duchess at last released her friend from her embrace, the baroness
+whispered: "Forgive me, I have wronged you as well as many others--even
+yesterday, forgive me." The same entreaty was expressed in Her
+Excellency's glance and clasp of the hand as she said: "Whoever sees
+this must repent every unloving word ever uttered; we will never forget
+that we have witnessed it together."
+
+"I thank you, but I should have borne you no ill will, even had I known
+what you have now voluntarily confessed to me!" replied the countess,
+kissing the ladies with dry, burning lips.
+
+"Shall we go?" asked the duchess. "We shall be locked in."
+
+"I will come directly--I beg you--will your Highness kindly go first? I
+should like to rest a moment!" stammered the countess in great
+confusion.
+
+"You are terribly unstrung--that is natural--so are we all. I will wait
+for you below and take you in my carriage, if you wish. We can weep our
+fill together."
+
+"Your Highness is--very kind," replied the countess, scarcely knowing
+what she answered.
+
+When the party had gone down stairs, she passionately seized Prince
+Emil's arm: "For Heaven's sake, help me to escape going with them. I
+will not, _cannot_ leave. I beseech you by all that is sacred, let me
+stay here."
+
+"So it is settled! The result is what I feared," said the prince with a
+heavy sigh. "I can only beg you for your own sake to consider the
+ladies. You have invited them to dine day after to-morrow--"
+
+"I know it--apologize for me--say whatever you please--you will
+know--you can manage it--if you have ever loved me--help me! Drive with
+the ladies--entertain them, that they may not miss me!"
+
+"And the magnificent ovation which the gentlemen have arranged at your
+home?"
+
+"What do I care for it?"
+
+"A fairy temple awaits you at the Palace Wildenau, and you will stay
+here? What a pity to lose the beautiful flowers, which must now wither
+in vain."
+
+"I cannot help it. For Heaven's sake, act quickly--some one is coming!"
+She was trembling in every limb with fear--but it was no member of the
+party sent to summon her. A short man with clear cut features stood
+beside her, shrewd loyal eyes met her glance. "I saw that you were
+still here, Countess, can I serve you in any way?"
+
+"Thank Heaven, it is Ludwig Gross!" cried the excited woman joyously,
+taking his arm. "Can you get me to your father's house without being
+seen?"
+
+"Certainly, I can guide you across the stage, if you wish!"
+
+"Quick, then! Farewell, Prince--be generous and forgive me!"
+
+She vanished.
+
+The prince was too thoroughly a man of the world to betray his feelings
+even for an instant. The short distance down the staircase afforded him
+ample time to decide upon his course. The misfortune had happened, and
+could no longer be averted--but it concerned himself alone. Her name
+and position must be guarded.
+
+"Have you come without the countess?" called the duchess.
+
+"I must apologize for her, Your Highness. The performance has so
+completely unstrung her nerves that she is unable to travel to-day. I
+have just placed her in her landlord's charge promising not only to
+make her apologies to the ladies, but also endeavor to supply her
+place."
+
+"Oh, poor Countess Wildenau!" said the duchess, kindly. "Shall we not
+go to her assistance?"
+
+"Permit me to remind your Highness that we have not a moment to lose,
+if we wish to catch the train!"
+
+"Is it possible! Then we must hurry."
+
+"Yes--and I think rest will be best for the countess at present,"
+answered Prince Emil, helping the ladies into the carriage.
+
+"Well, we shall see her at dinner on Tuesday? She will be able to
+travel to-morrow?"
+
+"Oh, I hope so."
+
+"But, Prince Emil! What will become of our flowers?" asked the
+gentlemen.
+
+"Oh, they will keep until to-morrow!"
+
+"I suppose she has no suspicion?"
+
+"Of course not, and it is far better, for had she been aware of it, no
+doubt she would have gone to-day, in spite of her illness, and made
+herself worse."
+
+The gentlemen assented. "Still it's a pity about the flowers. If they
+will only keep fresh!"
+
+"She will let many a blossom wither, which may well be mourned!"
+thought the prince bitterly.
+
+"Will you drive with us, Prince?" asked the duchess.
+
+"If Your Highness will permit! Will you go to the Casino to-night, as
+we agreed, gentlemen?" he called as he entered the vehicle.
+
+"Not I," replied Prince Hohenheim. "I honestly confess that I am not in
+the mood."
+
+"Nor I," said St. Genois. "This has moved me to that--the finest circus
+in the world might be here and I would not enter! The burgomaster of
+Ammergau was right in permitting nothing of the kind."
+
+"Yes, I will take back everything I said yesterday; I went to laugh and
+wept," remarked Wengenrode.
+
+"It has robbed me of all desire for amusement," Cossigny added. "I care
+for nothing more to-day."
+
+They bowed to the ladies and the prince, and silently entered their
+carriages. Prince Emil ordered the countess' coachman to drive back
+with the maid, who sat hidden in one corner, and joined the duchess and
+her companions.
+
+The equipages rolled away in different directions--one back to the
+Gross house, the other to Munich, where the florists were toiling
+busily to adorn the Wildenau Palace for the reception of its fortunate
+owner, who was not coming.
+
+Ludwig Gross led the countess across the now empty stage. It thrilled
+her with a strange emotion to thread its floor, and in her reverent
+awe, she scarcely ventured to glance around her at the vast, dusky
+space. Suddenly she recoiled from an unexpected horror--the cross lay
+before her. Her agitation did not escape the keen perception of Ludwig
+Gross, and he doubtless understood it; such things are not new to the
+people of Ammergau. "I will see whether the house of Pilate is still
+open, perhaps you may like to step out on the balcony!" he said, and
+moved away to leave her alone.
+
+The countess understood the consideration displayed by the sympathizing
+man. Kneeling in the dark wings, she threw herself face downward on the
+cross, pressed her burning lips on the hard wood which had supported
+the noble body, on the marks left here also by the nails which had
+apparently pierced the hands of the crucified one, the red stains made
+by his painted wounds. Aye, it had become true, the miracle had
+happened. _The artificial blood also possessed redeeming power_.
+
+Rarely did any pilgrim to the Holy Land ever press a more fervent kiss
+upon the wood of the true cross, than was now bestowed on the false
+one.
+
+So, in the days of yore, Helen, the beautiful, haughty mother of the
+Emperor Constantine, may have flung herself down, after her long sea
+voyage, when she at last found the long sought cross to press it to her
+bosom in the unutterable joy of realization.
+
+Ludwig's steps approached, and the countess roused herself from her
+rapture.
+
+"Unfortunately the house is closed," said Ludwig, who had probably been
+perfectly aware of it. They went on to the dressing-rooms. "I'll see if
+Freyer is still here!" and the drawing-master knocked at the first
+door. The countess was so much startled that she was forced to lean
+against the wall to save herself from falling. Was it to come now--the
+fateful moment! Her knees threatened to give way, her heart throbbed
+almost to bursting--but there was no answer to the knock, thrice
+repeated. He was no longer there. Ludwig Gross opened the door, the
+room was empty. "Will you come in?" he asked. "Would it interest you to
+see the dressing-room?"
+
+She entered. There hang his garments, still damp with perspiration from
+the severe toil.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau stooped with clasped hands in the bare little
+chamber. Something white and glimmering rustled and floated beside
+her--it was the transfiguration robe. She touched it lightly with her
+hand in passing, and a thrill of bliss ran through every nerve.
+
+Ah, and there was the crown of thorns.
+
+She took it in her hand and tears streamed down upon it, as though it
+were some sacred relic. Again the dream-like vision stood before her as
+she had seen it for the first time on the mountain top with the thorny
+branches swaying around the brow like an omen. "No, my hands shall
+defend thee that no thorn shall henceforth tear thee, beloved brow!"
+she thought, while a strange smile irradiated her face. Then looking
+up, she met the eyes of Ludwig, fixed upon her with deep emotion as she
+gazed down at the crown of thorns.
+
+She replaced it and followed him to the door of the next room.
+Caiaphas! An almost childlike dread and timidity assailed her--the sort
+of feeling she had had when a young girl at the time of her first
+presentation at court--she was well-nigh glad that he was no longer
+there and she had time to calm herself ere she confronted the mighty
+priest.
+
+"It is too late, they have all gone!" said Ludwig, offering his
+companion his arm to lead her down the staircase.
+
+Numerous groups of people were standing in front of the theatre and in
+the street leading to the village.
+
+"What are they doing here?" asked the lady.
+
+"Oh, they are waiting for Freyer! It is always so. He has slipped
+around again by a side path to avoid seeing anyone, and the poor people
+must stand and wait in vain. I have often told him that he ought not to
+be so austere! It would please them so much if he would but give them
+one friendly word--but he cannot conquer this shyness. He cannot suffer
+himself to be revered as the Christ, after the Play is over. He ought
+not to permit the feeling which the people have for the Christ to be
+transferred to his person--that is his view of the matter."
+
+"It is a lofty and noble thought, but hard for us poor mortals, who so
+eagerly cling to what is visible. It is impossible not to transfer the
+impression produced by the character to its representative, especially
+with a personality like Freyer's!"
+
+Ludwig Gross nodded assent. "Yes, we have had this experience of old.
+Faith needs an earthly pledge, says our great poet, and Freyer's
+personation is such a pledge, a guarantee of whose blessed power
+everyone feels sure."
+
+The countess eagerly pressed Ludwig's hands.
+
+"I have seen people," Ludwig added, "who were happy, if they were only
+permitted to touch Freyer's garment, as though it could bring them
+healing like the actual robe of Christ! Would not Christ, also, if He
+beheld this pious delusion, exclaim: 'Woman, thy faith hath saved
+thee!'"
+
+A deep flush crimsoned the countess' face, and the tears which she had
+so long struggled to repress flowed in streams. She leaned heavily on
+Ludwig's arm, and he felt the violent throbbing of her heart. It
+touched him and awakened his compassion. He perceived that hers, too,
+was a suffering soul seeking salvation here, and if she did not find
+it, would perish. "It shall be yours, poor woman; for rich as you may
+be, you are still poor--and we will give you what we can!" he thought.
+
+The two companions pursued their way, without exchanging another word.
+The countess now greeted the old house like a lost home which she had
+once more regained.
+
+Andreas Gross met her at the door, took off her shawl, and carried it
+into the room for her.
+
+Josepha had already returned and said that the countess was ill.
+
+"I hope it is nothing serious?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"No, Herr Gross, I am well--but I cannot go; I must make the
+acquaintance of these people--I cannot tear myself away from this
+impression!"
+
+She sank into a chair, laid her head on the table and sobbed like a
+child. "Forgive me, Herr Gross, I cannot help it!" she said with
+difficulty, amid her tears.
+
+The old man laid his hand upon her shoulder with a gesture of paternal
+kindness. "Weep your fill, we are accustomed to it, do not heed us!" He
+drew her gently into the sitting-room.
+
+Ludwig had vanished.
+
+Josepha entered to ask whether she should unpack the luggage which was
+up in her room.
+
+"Yes," replied the countess, "and let the carriages return to Munich,
+until I need them again."
+
+"His Highness the Prince has left his valet here for your service,"
+Josepha reported.
+
+"What can he do? Let him go home, too! Let them all go--I want no one
+except you!" said the countess sternly, hiding her face again in her
+handkerchief. Josepha went out to give the order. Where could Ludwig
+Gross be?--He had become a necessity to her now, thus left alone with
+her overflowing heart! He had been right in everything.--He had told
+her that she would learn to weep here, he had first made her understand
+the spirit of Ammergau. Honor and gratitude were his due, he had
+promised nothing that had not been fulfilled. He was thoroughly genuine
+and reliable! But where had he gone, did not this man, usually so
+sympathetic, know that just now he might be of great help to her? Or
+did he look deeper _still_, and know that he was but a substitute
+for another, for whom her whole soul yearned? It was so lonely. A
+death-like stillness reigned in the house and in the street. All were
+resting after the heavy toil of the day.
+
+Something outside darkened the window. Ludwig Gross was passing on his
+way toward the door, bringing with him a tan, dark figure, towering far
+above the low window, a figure that moved shyly, swiftly along,
+followed by a throng of people, at a respectful distance. The countess
+felt paralyzed. Was _he_ coming? Was he coming in.
+
+She could not rise and look--she sat with clasped hands, trembling in
+humble expectation, as Danae waited the moment when the shower of gold
+should fall. Then--steps echoed in the workshop--the footsteps of
+two--! They were an eternity in passing down its length--but they were
+really approaching her room--they came nearer--some one knocked!
+She scarcely had breath to call "come in." She would not believe
+it--from the fear of disappointment. She still sat motionless at the
+table--Ludwig Gross opened the door to allow the other to precede
+him--and _Freyer_ entered. He stooped slightly, that he might not
+strike his head, but that was needless, for--what miracle was this? The
+door expanded before the countess' eyes, the ceiling rose higher and
+higher above him. A wide lofty space filled with dazzling light
+surrounded him. Colors glittered before her vision, figures floated to
+and fro; were they shadows or angels? She knew not, a mist veiled her
+eyes--for a moment she ceased to think. Then she felt as if she had
+awaked from a deep slumber, during which she had been walking in her
+sleep--for she suddenly found herself face to face with Freyer, he was
+holding her hands in his, while his eyes rested on hers--in speechless
+silence.
+
+[Illustration: _She suddenly found herself face to face with Freyer_. Page 102.]
+
+Then she regained her self-control and the first words she uttered were
+addressed to Ludwig: "You have brought _him_--!" she said, releasing
+Freyer's hands to thank the man who had so wonderfully guessed her
+yearning.
+
+Gift and gratitude were equal--and here both were measureless! She
+scarcely knew at this moment which she valued more, the man who brought
+this donation or the gift itself. But from this hour Ludwig Gross was
+her benefactor.
+
+"You have brought _him_"--she repeated, for she knew not what more to
+say--that one word contained _all_! Had she possessed the eloquence of
+the universe, it would not have been so much to Ludwig as that _one_
+word and the look which accompanied it. Then, like a child at
+Christmas, which, after having expressed its thanks, goes back happily
+to its presents, she turned again to Freyer.
+
+Yet, as the child stands timidly before the abundance of its gifts,
+and, in the first moments of surprise, does not venture to touch them,
+she now stood, shy and silent before him, her only language her eyes
+and the tears which streamed down her cheeks.
+
+Freyer saw her deep emotion and, bending kindly toward her, again took
+her hands in his. Every nerve was still quivering--she could feel
+it--from the terrible exertion he had undergone--and as the moisture
+drips from the trees after the rain, his eyes still swam in tears, and
+his face was damp with perspiration.
+
+"How shall I thank you for coming to me after this day of toil?" she
+began in a low tone.
+
+[Illustration: _She suddenly found herself face to face with Freyer_.]
+
+"Oh, Countess," he answered with untroubled truthfulness, "I did it for
+the sake of my friend Ludwig--he insisted upon it."
+
+"So it was only on his friend's account," thought the countess,
+standing with bowed head before him.
+
+He was now the king--and she, the queen of her brilliant sphere, was
+nothing save a poor, hoping, fearing woman!
+
+At this moment all the vanity of her worldly splendor fell from
+her--for the first time in her life she stood in the presence of a man
+where _she_ was the supplicant, he the benefactor. What a feeling! At
+once humiliating and blissful, confusing and enthralling! She had
+recognized by that one sentence the real state of the case--what
+to this man was the halo surrounding the Reichscountess von Wildenau
+with her coronet and her millions? Joseph Freyer knew but one
+aristocracy--that of the saints in whose sphere he was accustomed to
+move--and if he left it for the sake of an earthly woman, he would
+stoop to her, no matter how far, according to worldly ideals, she might
+stand above him!
+
+Yet poor and insignificant as she felt in his presence--while the
+lustre of her coronet and the glitter of her gold paled and vanished in
+the misty distance--_one_ thing remained on which she could rely, her
+womanly charm, and this must wield its influence were she a queen or
+the child of a wood-cutter! "Then, for the earthly crown you have torn
+from my head, proud man, you shall give me your crown of thorns, and I
+will _still_ be queen!" she thought, as the spirit of Mother Eve
+stirred within her and an intoxicating breeze blew from the Garden of
+Paradise. Not for the sake of a base emotion of vanity and
+covetousness, nay, she wished to be loved, in order to _bless_. It is
+the nature of a noble woman to seek to use her power not to receive,
+but to give, to give without stint or measure. The brain thinks
+quickly--but the heart is swifter still! Ere the mind has time to grasp
+the thought, the heart has seized it. The countess had experienced all
+this in the brief space during which Freyer's eyes rested on her.
+Suddenly he lowered his lashes and said in a whisper: "I think we have
+met before, countess."
+
+"On my arrival Friday evening. You were standing on the top of the
+mountain while I was driving at the foot. Was it not so?"
+
+"Yes," he murmured almost inaudibly, and there was something like an
+understanding, a sweet familiarity in the soft assent. She felt it, and
+her hand clasped his more firmly with a gentle pressure.
+
+He again raised his lashes, gazing at her with an earnest, questioning
+glance, and it seemed as if she felt a pulse throbbing in the part of
+the hand which bore the mark of the wound--the warning did not fail to
+produce its effect.
+
+"Christus, my Christus!" she whispered repentantly. It seemed as if she
+had committed a sin in suffering an earthly wish to touch the envoy of
+God. He was crucified, dead, and buried. He only walked on earth like a
+spirit permitted to return from time to time and dwell for a brief
+space among the living. Who could claim a spirit, clasp a shadow to the
+heart? Grief oppressed her, melancholy, akin to the grief we feel when
+we dream of the return of some beloved one who is dead, and throw
+ourselves sobbing on his breast, while we are aware that it is only a
+dream! But even if but a dream, should she not dream it with her whole
+soul? If she knew that he was given to her only a few moments, should
+she not crowd into them with all the sweeter, more sorrowful strength,
+the love of a whole life?
+
+After us the deluge, says love to the moment--and that which does not
+say it is not love.
+
+But in this _moment_, the countess felt, lay the germ of something
+imperishable, and when it was past there would begin for her--not
+annihilation, but _eternity_. To it she must answer for what she did
+with the moment!
+
+Ludwig Gross was standing by the window, he did not wish to listen what
+was communicated by the mute language of those eyes. He had perceived,
+with subtle instinct, the existence of some mysterious connection, in
+which no third person had any part. They were alone--virtually alone,
+yet neither spoke, only their tearful eyes expressed the suffering
+which he endured and _she_ shared in beholding.
+
+"Come, poor martyr!" cried her heart, and she released one of his hands
+to clasp the other more closely with both her own. She noticed a slight
+quiver. "Does your hand still ache--from the terrible nail which seemed
+to be driven into your flesh?"
+
+"Oh, no, that would cause no pain; the nail passes between the fingers
+and the large head extends toward the center of the palm. But to-day,
+by accident, Joseph of Arimathea in drawing out the nail took a piece
+of the flesh with it, so that I clenched my teeth with the pain!" he
+said, smiling, and showing her the wound. "Do you see? Now I am really
+stigmatized!"
+
+"Good Heavens, there is a large piece of the flesh torn out, and you
+bore it without wincing?"
+
+"Why, of course!" he said, simply.
+
+Ludwig gazed fixedly out of the window. The countess had gently drawn
+the wounded hand nearer and nearer; suddenly forgetting everything in
+an unutterable feeling, she stooped and ere Freyer could prevent it
+pressed a kiss upon the bloody stigma.
+
+Joseph Freyer shrank as though struck by a thunderbolt, drawing back
+his hand and closing it as if against some costly gift which he dared
+not accept. A deep flush crimsoned his brow, his broad chest heaved
+passionately and he was obliged to cling to a chair, to save himself
+from falling. Yet unconsciously his eyes flashed with a fire at once
+consuming and life-bestowing--a Prometheus spark!
+
+"You are weary, pardon me for not having asked you to sit down long
+ago!" said the countess, making an effort to calm herself, and
+motioning to Ludwig Gross, in order not to leave him standing alone.
+
+"Only a moment"--whispered Freyer, also struggling to maintain his
+composure, as he sank into a chair. Madeleine von Wildenau turned away,
+to give him time to regain his self-command. She saw his intense
+emotion, and might perhaps have been ashamed of her hasty act had she
+not known its meaning--for her feeling at that moment was too sacred
+for him to have misunderstood it. Nor had he failed to comprehend, but
+it had overpowered him.
+
+Ludwig, who dearly perceived the situation, interposed with his usual
+tact to relieve their embarrassment: "Freyer is particularly exhausted
+to-day; he told me, on our way here, that he had again been taken from
+the cross senseless."
+
+"Good Heavens, does that happen often?" asked the countess.
+
+"Unfortunately, yes," said Ludwig in a troubled tone.
+
+"It is terrible--your father told me that the long suspension on the
+cross was dangerous. Can nothing be done to relieve it?"
+
+"Something might be accomplished," replied Ludwig, "by substituting a
+flat cross for the rounded one. Formerly, when we had a smooth, angular
+one, it did not tax his strength so much! But some authority in
+archaeology told us that the crosses of those days were made of
+semi-circular logs, and this curve, over which the back is now
+strained, stretches the limbs too much."
+
+"I should think so!" cried the countess in horror. "Why do you use such
+an instrument of torture?"
+
+"He himself insists upon it, for the sake of historical accuracy."
+
+"But suppose you should not recover, from one of these fainting fits?"
+asked the lady, reproachfully.
+
+Then Freyer, conquering his agitation, raised his head. "What more
+beautiful fate could be mine, Countess, than to die on the cross, like
+my redeemer? It is all that I desire."
+
+"All?" she repeated, and a keen emotion of jealousy assailed her,
+jealousy of the cross, to which he would fain devote his life! She met
+his dark eyes with a look, a sweet, yearning--fatal look--a poisoned
+arrow whose effect she well knew. She grudged him to the cross, the
+dead, wooden instrument of martyrdom, which did not feel, did not love,
+did not long for him as she did! And the true Christ? Ah, He was too
+noble to demand such a sacrifice--besides. He would receive too souls
+for one, for surely, in His image, she loved _Him_. He had sent her the
+hand marked with blood stains to show her the path to Him--He could not
+desire to withdraw it, ere the road was traversed.
+
+"You are a martyr in the true sense of the word," she said. Her eyes
+seemed to ask whether the shaft had struck. But Freyer had lowered his
+lids and sat gazing at the floor.
+
+"Oh, Countess," he said evasively, "to have one's limbs wrenched for
+half an hour does not make a martyr. That suffering brings honor and
+the consciousness of serving others. Many, like my friend Ludwig, and
+other natives of Ammergau, offer to our cause secret sacrifices of
+happiness which no audience beholds and applauds, and which win
+no renown save in their own eyes and God's. _They_ are martyrs,
+Countess!--I am merely a vain, spoiled, sinful man, who has enough to
+do to keep himself from being dazzled by the applause of the world and
+to become worthy of his task."
+
+"To _become_!" the countess repeated. "I think whoever speaks in that
+way, _is_ worthy already."
+
+Freyer raised his eyes with a look which seemed to Madeleine von
+Wildenau to lift her into a higher realm. "Who would venture to say
+that he was worthy of _this_ task? It requires a saint. All I can hope
+for is that God will use the imperfect tool to work His miracles, and
+that He will accept my _will_ for the deed,--otherwise I should be
+forced to give up the part _this very day_."
+
+The countess was deeply moved.
+
+"Oh, Freyer, wonderful, divinely gifted nature! To us you are the
+Redeemer, and yet you are so severe to yourself."
+
+"Do not talk so, Countess! I must not listen! I will not add to all my
+sins that of robbing my Master, in His garb, of what belongs to _Him_
+alone. You cannot suspect how it troubles me when people show me this
+reverence; I always long to cry out, 'Do not confound me with Him--I am
+nothing more than the wood--or the marble from which an image of the
+Christ is carved, and withal _bad_ wood, marble which is not free from
+stains.' And when they will not believe it, and continue to transfer to
+me the love which they ought to have for Christ--I feel that I am
+robbing my Master, and no one knows how I suffer." He started up. "That
+is why I mingle so little with others--and if I ever break this rule I
+repent it, for my peace of mind is destroyed."
+
+He took his hat. His whole nature seemed changed--this was the chaste
+severity with which he had driven the money changers from the temple,
+and Madeleine turned pale--chilled to the inmost heart by his
+inflexible bearing.
+
+"Are you going?" she murmured in a trembling voice.
+
+"It is time," he answered, gently, but with an unapproachable dignity
+which made the words with which she would fain have entreated him to
+stay longer, die upon her lips.
+
+"Your Highness win leave to morrow?"
+
+"The countess intends to remain some time," said Ludwig, pressing his
+friend's arm lightly, as a warning not to wound her feeling.
+
+"Ah," replied Freyer, thoughtfully, "then perhaps we shall meet again."
+
+"I have not yet answered what you have said to-day; will you permit me
+to do so to-morrow?" asked the countess, gently; an expression of quiet
+suffering hovered around her lips.
+
+"To-morrow I play the Christ again, Countess--but doubtless some
+opportunity will be found within the next few days."
+
+"As you please--farewell!"
+
+Freyer bowed respectfully, but as distantly as if he did not think it
+possible that the lady would offer him her hand. Ludwig, on the
+contrary, as if to make amends for his friend's omission, frankly
+extended his. She clasped it, saying in a low, hurried tone: "Stay!"
+
+"I will merely go with Freyer to the door, and then return, if you will
+allow me."
+
+"Yes," she said, dismissing Freyer with a haughty wave of the hand.
+Then, throwing herself into the chair by the table, she burst into
+bitter weeping. She had always been surrounded by men who sued for her
+favor as though it were a royal gift. And here--here she was disdained,
+and by whom? A man of the people--a plebeian! No, a keen pang pierced
+her heart as she tried to give him that name. If _he_ was a plebeian,
+so, too, was Christ. Christ, too, sprang from the people--the ideal of
+the human race was born in a _manger_! She could summon to confront Him
+only _one_ kind of pride, that of the _woman_, not of the high-born
+lady. Alas--she had not even _this_. How often she had flung her heart
+away without love. For the mess of pottage of gratified vanity or an
+interesting situation, as the prince had said yesterday, she had
+bartered the birthright of the holiest feeling. Of what did she dare to
+be proud? That, for the first time in her life, she really loved? Was
+she to avenge herself by arrogance upon the man who had awakened this
+divine emotion because he did not share it? No, that would be petty and
+ungrateful. Yet what could she do? He was so far above her in his
+unassuming simplicity, so utterly inviolable. She was captured by his
+nobility, her weapons were powerless against him. As she gazed around
+her for some support by which she might lift herself above him, every
+prop of her former artificial life snapped in her grasp before the
+grand, colossal verity of this apparition. She could do nothing save
+love and suffer, and accept whatever fate he bestowed.
+
+Some one knocked at the door; almost mechanically she gave the
+permission to enter.
+
+Ludwig Gross came in noiselessly and approached her. Without a word she
+held out her hand, as a patient extends it to the physician. He stood
+by her side and his eyes rested on the weeping woman with the sympathy
+and understanding born of experience in suffering. But his presence was
+infinitely soothing. This man would allow nothing to harm her! So far
+as his power extended, she was safe.
+
+She looked at him as if beseeching help--and he understood her.
+
+"Freyer was unusually excited to-day," he said, "I do not know what was
+passing in his mind. I never saw him in such a mood before! When we
+entered the garden, he embraced me as if something extraordinary had
+happened, and then rushed off as though the ground was burning under
+his feet--of course in the direction opposite to his home, for the
+whole street was full of people waiting to see him."
+
+The countess held her breath to listen.
+
+"Was he in this mood when you called for him?" she asked.
+
+"No, he was as usual, calm and weary."
+
+"What changed him so suddenly?"
+
+"I believe, Countess, that you have made an impression upon him which
+he desires to understand. You have thrown him out of the regular
+routine, and he no longer comprehends his own feelings."
+
+"But I--I said so little--I don't understand," cried the countess,
+blushing.
+
+"The important point does not always depend on what is said, but on
+what is _not_ said, Countess. To deep souls what is unuttered is often
+more significant than words."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau lowered her eyes and silently clasped Ludwig's
+hand.
+
+"Do you think that he--" she did not finish the sentence, Ludwig spared
+her.
+
+"From my knowledge of Freyer--either he will _never_ return, or--he
+will come _to-morrow_."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IX.
+
+                           SIGNS AND WONDERS.
+
+
+The great number of strangers who were unable to get tickets the day
+before had rendered a second performance necessary. The countess did
+not attend it. To her the play had been no spectacle, but an
+experience--a repetition would have degraded it to a mere drama. She
+had spent the day in retirement, like a prisoner, that she might not
+fall into the hands of any acquaintances. Now the distant rumble of
+carriages announced the close of the performance. It was a delightful
+autumn evening. The Gross family came to the window on their return
+home, and wondered to find the countess still in her room. The sounds
+of stifled sobs echoed from the work room. The other lodgers in the
+house had come back from the theatre and, like every one, were paying
+their tribute of tears. An American had gone to-day for the second
+time. He sat weeping on the bench near the stove, and said that it had
+been even more touching than yesterday. Andreas Gross assented: "Yes,
+Joseph Freyer never played as he did to-day."
+
+The countess, sitting in her room, heard the words and was strangely
+moved. Why had he never played as he did _to-day_?
+
+Some one tapped gently on the door.
+
+A burning blush suffused the countess' face--had _he_--? He might have
+passed through the garden from the other side to avoid the spectators.
+"Come in!" she called.
+
+It was Josepha with a telegram in her hand. The messenger was waiting
+for an answer.
+
+The countess opened it and read the contents. It was from the prince.
+"Please inform me whether I shall countermand the dinner."
+
+"Very well. I will send the reply."
+
+Josepha withdrew.
+
+"If Ludwig were only here!" thought the countess. "He must be waiting
+to bring Freyer, as he did yesterday."
+
+The rapid pulsing of her heart almost stifled her. One quarter of an
+hour passed after another. At last Ludwig came--but alone.
+
+The countess was sitting at the open window and Ludwig paused beside
+it.
+
+"Well, how was the play to-day?"
+
+"Magnificent," he replied. "I never saw Freyer so superb. He was
+perfect, fairly superhuman! It is a pity that you were not there."
+
+"Did he inquire for me?"
+
+"Yes. I explained to him that you did not wish to see it a second
+time--and for what reason. He nodded and said: 'I am glad the lady
+feels so.'"
+
+"Then--we understand each other!" The countess drew a long breath. "Did
+you ask him to come here with you?"
+
+"No. I thought I ought not to do that--he must come now of his own free
+will, or you would be placed in a false position."
+
+"You are right--I thank you!" said the countess, turning pale and
+biting her lips. "Do you think that--he will come?"
+
+"Unfortunately, no--he went directly home."
+
+"Will you do me a favor?"
+
+"Certainly, Countess."
+
+"Despatch a telegram for me. I have arranged to give a dinner party at
+home and should like to send a message that I am coming."
+
+"You will not remain here longer?"
+
+"No!" she said in a tone sharp and cutting as a knife which is thrust
+into one's own heart. "Come in, please."
+
+Ludwig obeyed the command and she wrote with the bearing of a queen
+signing a death-warrant:
+
+
+"Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim, Munich.
+
+   "Will come at five to-morrow. Dinner can be given.
+
+                                                 "Madeleine."
+
+
+"Here, if you will be so kind," she said, handing the sheet to Ludwig.
+
+The latter gazed earnestly at her, as though he wanted to say: "If only
+you don't repent it." But he asked the question in the modest wording:
+"Shall I send it _at once_?"
+
+"Yes, if you please!" she answered, and her whole manner expressed a
+coldness which startled Ludwig.
+
+"Can genuine warmth of heart freeze so quickly?" he asked himself.
+Madeleine von Wildenau felt the mute reproach and disappointment in
+Ludwig's manner. She felt, too, that he was right, and called him back
+as he reached the door. "Give it to me," she said, taking the telegram,
+"I will consider the matter." Then meeting the eyes of the noble man,
+which now brightened again for her sake, she added earnestly, holding
+out her hand, "You understand me better than I do myself."
+
+"I thank you for those words--they make me very proud, Countess!" said
+Ludwig with a radiant glance, placing the telegram on the table. "I
+will go now that I may not disturb you while you are considering what
+course to pursue."
+
+He left the room. Twilight was gathering. The countess sat by the table
+holding the telegram clenched in her little hand.
+
+"The people of Ammergau unconsciously exercise a moral constraint which
+is irresistible. There is a power of truth in them which prevents even
+self-deception in their presence!" she murmured half defiantly, half
+admiringly. What was to be done now? To remain longer here and
+countermand the dinner meant a positive breach with society. But who
+was there _here_ to thank her for such a sacrifice? Who cared for the
+Countess Wildenau? She was one of the thousands who came and went,
+taking with them a lofty memory, without leaving any remembrance in the
+mind of any one. Why should she hold them accountable if she gave to
+this impression a significance which was neither intended nor
+suspected. We must not force upon men sacrifices which they do not
+desire!
+
+She rested her arm on the table and sat irresolute. Now--now in this
+mood, to return to the prosaic, superficial round, after imagining
+yesterday that she stood face to face with deity? _Could_ she do it?
+Was not the mute reproach in Ludwig's glance true? She thoughtfully
+rested her beautiful face on her hand.
+
+She had not noticed a knock at the door, a carriage was driving by
+whose rattle drowned every sound. For the same reason the person
+outside, supposing that he had not heard the "come in!" softy opened
+the door. At the noise the countess raised her head--Freyer stood
+before her.
+
+"You have come, you _did_ come!" she exclaimed, starting up and seizing
+his hand that the sweet, blissful dream might not vanish once more.
+
+"Excuse me if I disturb you," he said in a low, timid tone. "I--I
+should not have come--but I could not bear to stay at home, I was so
+excited to-day. When evening came, some impulse drove me here--I was--I
+had--"
+
+"You had a desire to talk to some one who could understand you, and
+this urged you to me, did it not?"
+
+"Yes, Countess! But I should not have ventured to come in, had not--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Ludwig met me and said that you were going away--"
+
+"Ah--and did you regret it?"
+
+"I wished at least to bid you farewell and thank you for all your
+kindness to my unhappy cousin Josepha!" he said evasively. "I neglected
+to do so yesterday, I was so embarrassed."
+
+"You are not sincere with me, Herr Freyer!" said the countess,
+motioning to him to sit down. "This expression of thanks does not come
+from your heart, for you do not care what I do for Josepha. That is
+merely the pretext for coming to me--because you do not wish to confess
+what really brought you. Am I not right?"
+
+"Countess!" said Freyer, completely disconcerted, as he tried to rise.
+
+She gently laid her hand on his, detaining him. "Stay! Your standard is
+so rigid in everything--what is your view of truth?"
+
+Freyer fixed his eyes on the floor.
+
+"Is it _true_, when you say that you came to thank me for Josepha? Were
+you not drawn hither by the feeling that, of all the thousands of souls
+who pass you in the course of the summer, perhaps there is not one who
+could understand you and your task as I do?"
+
+Freyer clasped his hands on his knees and silently bent his head.
+
+"Perhaps you have not thought of me as I have thought of you, all day
+long, since our eyes met on the mountain, as though some higher power
+had pointed us out to each other."
+
+Freyer remained silent, but as the full cup overflows at the slightest
+movement, tears again gushed from his eyes.
+
+"Why did you look at me so from head to foot, pouring forth in that
+gaze your whole soul with a world of grief and joy, as a blossoming
+tree showers its flowers on the passer-by? Surely not on account of a
+woman's face, though it may be passably fair, but because you felt that
+I perceived the Christ in you and that it was _He_ for whom I came.
+Your glance meant to tell me: 'It is I whom you are seeking!' and I
+believe you. And when at last the promise was fulfilled and the long
+sought redeemer stood before me, was it by chance that his prophetic
+eye discovered me among the thousands of faces when he said: 'But in
+many hearts day will soon dawn!' Did you not seek me, as we look for a
+stranger to whom we must fulfill a promise given on the journey?"
+
+Freyer now raised his dark eyes and fixed them full upon her, but made
+no reply.
+
+"And is it true that you came yesterday, only because Ludwig wished it,
+you who, spite of all entreaties, have kept ladies who had the world at
+their feet waiting on your stairs for hours? Did you not come because
+you suspected that I might be the woman with whom, since that meeting,
+you had had some incomprehensible spiritual bond?"
+
+Freyer covered his eyes with his hand, as if he was afraid more might
+be read in them.
+
+"Be truthful, Herr Freyer, it is unworthy of you and of me to play a
+conventional farce. I am compelled to act so many in my life that I
+would fain for once be frank, as mortal to mortal! Tell me simply, have
+I judged correctly--yes or no?"
+
+"Yes!" whispered Freyer, without looking up.
+
+She gently drew his hand down. "And to-day--to-day--did you come merely
+out of gratitude for your cousin?" she questioned with the archness of
+her increasing certainty of happiness.
+
+He caught the little hand with which she had clasped his, and raised it
+ardently to his lips; then, as if startled that he had allowed himself
+to be carried so far, he flung back his raven locks as if they had
+deluded his senses, and pushed his chair farther away in order not to
+be again led into temptation. She did not interfere--she knew that he
+was in her power--struggle as he might, the dart was fixed. Yet the
+obstacles she had to conquer were great and powerful. Coquetry would be
+futile, only the moral force of a _genuine_ feeling could cope with
+them, and of this she was conscious, with a happiness never felt
+before. Again she searched her own heart, and her rapid glance wandered
+from the thorn-scarred brow of the wonderful figure before her, to
+pierce the depths of her own soul. Her love for him was genuine, she
+was not toying with his heart; she wished, like Mary Magdalene, to
+sanctify herself in his love. But she was the Magdalene in the _first_
+stage. Had Christ been a _man_, and attainable like _this_ man, what
+transformations the Penitent's heart must have undergone, ere its fires
+wrought true purification.
+
+"Herr Freyer," the countess began in a low, eager tone, "you said
+yesterday that it troubled you when people showed you idolatrous
+reverence and you felt that you thereby robbed your Master. Can we give
+aught to any earthly being without giving it to _God_?"
+
+Freyer listened intently.
+
+"Is there any soul which does not belong to God, did not emanate from
+_Him_, is not a part of _His_ power? And does not that which flows from
+one part to another stream back in a perpetual circle to the _Creator_?
+We can _take_ nothing which does not come from God, _give_ nothing
+which does not return to Him. Do you know the principle of the
+preservation of power?"
+
+"No," said Freyer, confused by his ignorance of something he was asked.
+
+"Well, it can be explained in a very few words. Science has proved that
+nothing in the universe can be lost, that even a force which is
+apparently uselessly squandered is merely transformed into another.
+Thus in God nothing can be lost, even though it has no direct relation
+to Him--for he is the _spiritual_ universe. True, _every_ feeling does
+not produce a work of God, any more than every effort of nature brings
+forth some positive result. But as in the latter case the force
+expended is not lost, because it produces other, though secondary
+results, so in _God_ no sentiment of love and enthusiasm is lost, even
+though it may relate to Him only in a secondary degree."
+
+"Very true."
+
+"Then if that _is_ so,--how can any one rob this God, who surrounds us
+like the universe, from which we come, into which we pass again, and in
+which our forces are constantly transformed in a perpetual round of
+change."
+
+Freyer rested his head on his hand, absorbed in thought.
+
+"And if a feeling is so deeply rooted in religion, so directly
+associated with God as that which men offer to you. His representative,
+why should you have these scruples?"
+
+"I have never heard any one talk in this way! Pardon my
+faint-heartedness, and ignorance--I am a poor, simple-hearted man--you
+will be indulgent, will you not?"
+
+"Freyer!" cried the countess, deeply moved, and spite of the distance
+to which he had pushed his chair, held out her hand.
+
+"You see, I had no opportunity to attend a higher school, I was so
+poor. I lost my parents when a lad of twelve and received only the most
+necessary instruction. All my knowledge I obtained afterwards by
+reading, and it is of course defective and insufficient. On our
+mountains, beside our rushing streams, among the hazel bushes whose
+nuts were often my only food, I grew up, watching the horses sent to
+pasture with their colts. Up by St. Gregory's chapel, where the Leine
+falls over the cliffs, I left the animals grazing in the wide meadows,
+flung myself down in a field of gentian and, lying on my back, gazed
+upward into the blue sky and thought it must surely open, the
+transparent atmosphere _must_ at last be pierced--as the bird imagines,
+when it dashes its head against a pane of glass--so I learned to think
+of God! And when my brain and heart grew giddy, as if I were destined
+for something better, when a longing overwhelmed me which my simple
+meditations could not quell, I caught one of my young horses by the
+mane, swung myself on its bare back, and swept over the broad plain,
+feeling myself a king."
+
+He extended his arms, and now his face was suddenly
+transformed--laughing, bright, joyous as the Swedes imagine their
+Neck, the kind, friendly water sprite who still retains some of the
+mythical blood of the Northern god of Spring, Freyer's namesake. "Ah,
+Countess--that was poetry! Who could restore _those_ days; that
+childish ignorance, that happy hope, that freedom of innocence!"
+
+Again, like the pictures in a kaleidoscope, his expression changed and
+a gloomy melancholy spread its veil over his brow. "Alas!--that is all
+over! My light-footed colts have become weary, clumsy animals, dragging
+loaded wains, and I--I drag no less wearily the burden of life."
+
+"How can you speak so at the moment when, yourself a miracle, you are
+revealing to men the miracles of God? Is it not ungrateful!"
+
+"Oh, no, Countess, I am grateful! But I do not so separate myself from
+my part that I could be happy while portraying the sufferings of my
+Redeemer! Do you imagine that I have merely learned the words by heart?
+With His form, I have also taken His cross upon me! Since that time all
+my youth has fled and a touch of pain pervades my whole life."
+
+"Then you are His true follower--then you are doing what Simon of
+Cyrene did! And do _you_ believe that you ought not to accept even the
+smallest portion of the gratitude which men owe to the Crucified One?
+Must you share only His sufferings, not His joys, the joys bestowed by
+the love and faith of moved and converted souls? Surely if you are so
+narrow-minded, you understand neither yourself nor the love of God, Who
+has chosen and favored you from among millions to renew to the world
+the forgotten message of salvation."
+
+"Oh God, oh God!--help me to keep my humility--this is too much."
+
+Freyer started up and pressed his hand upon his brow as if to ward off
+an invisible crown which was descending upon it.
+
+The countess also rose and approached him. "Freyer, the suffering you
+endure for Christ's sake, I share with you! It is the mystery in which
+our souls found each other. Pain is eternal, Freyer, and that to which
+it gives birth is imperishable! What do we feel when we stand before a
+painted or sculptured image of the Crucified One? Pity, the most
+agonizing pity! I have never been willing to believe it--but since
+yesterday I have known that it is a solace to the believing soul to
+bestow a tender embrace upon the lifeless image and to touch the
+artificial wounds with ardent lips. What must it be when that image
+loves, feels, and suffers! When it speaks to us in tones that thrill
+the inmost heart? When we see it quiver and bleed under the lashes of
+the executioner--when the sweat of agony trickles from the brow and
+_real_ tears flow from the eyes? I ask, _what_ must this be to us?
+Imagine yourself for once the person who _sees this_--and then judge
+whether it is not overpowering? If faith in the _stone_ Christ works
+miracles--why should not belief in the _living_ one do far more? The
+pious delusion is so much the greater, and _faith_ brings blessing."
+
+She clasped her hands upon his breast
+
+"Come, image of mercy, bend down to me. Let me clasp your beloved head
+and press upon your tortured brow the kiss of reconciliation for all
+penitent humanity!" Then, taking his face between her hands, she
+lightly pressed a fervent kiss upon the brow gently inclined toward
+her. "Now go and lament that you have robbed your Master of this
+kiss. He will ask, with a smile: 'Do you know for whom that kiss was
+meant--_thee_ or _me_?' And you will be spared an answer, for when you
+raise your eyes to Him, you will find it imprinted on _His_ brow."
+
+She paused, overpowered by the sacredness of the moment. There are
+times when our own words influence us like some unknown force, because
+they express something which has been so deeply concealed in our hearts
+that we ourselves were ignorant of its existence. This was the case now
+with the countess. Freyer stood silently with clasped hands, as if in
+church.
+
+It seemed as though some third person was addressing them--an invisible
+person whom they must hold their very breath to understand.
+
+It had grown late. The waning moon floated high above the low window
+and brightened the little room with its cheering rays. The countess
+nodded. "It is fulfilled!" Then she laid her hands in Freyer's: "For
+the first time since my childhood I place my soul in the keeping of a
+human being! For the first time since my childhood, I strip off all the
+arrogance of reason, for a higher perception is hovering above me,
+drawing nearer and nearer with blissful certainty! Is it love, is it
+faith? Whichever it may be--God dwells in _both_. And--if philosophy
+says: 'I _think_, therefore I _am_,' I say: 'I _love_, therefore I
+_believe_!'"
+
+She humbly bowed her head. "And therefore I beseech you. Bless me, you
+who are so divinely endowed, with the blessing which is shed upon and
+emanates from you!"
+
+Freyer raised his eyes to Heaven as if to call down the benediction she
+implored, and there was such power in the fervid gaze that Madeleine
+von Wildenau experienced a thrill almost of fear, as if in the presence
+of some supernatural being. Then he made the sign of the cross over
+her: "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
+Ghost."
+
+A tremor of foreboding ran through her limbs as if the finger of God
+had marked her for some mysterious destination and, with this rune, she
+had been enrolled in the pallid host of those consecrated by sorrow as
+followers of the deity.
+
+With sweet submission she clasped the hand which had just imprinted the
+mournful sign on brow and breast: "In the name of God, if only _you_
+are near me!" Her head drooped on her bosom. Some one knocked at the
+door, the countess' brain reeled so much that she was forced to cling
+to Freyer for support.
+
+Josepha timidly asked if she wanted a light.
+
+"Light! Was it _dark_?"
+
+"Very well," she answered absently.
+
+Josepha brought the lamp and enquired when the countess desired to have
+supper? Freyer took his hat to go.
+
+"I shall eat nothing more to-night!" said the countess in a curt,
+impatient tone, and Josepha timidly withdrew.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau covered her face with both hands like a person
+who had been roused from a beautiful dream to bare reality.
+
+"Alas--that there must be other people in the world, besides
+ourselves!" She sighed heavily, as if to take breath after the terrible
+fall. Freyer, hat in hand, approached her, calm and self-controlled.
+Joseph Freyer, addressing Countess Wildenau, had no remembrance of what
+the penitent soul had just confided to the image of the Redeemer.
+
+"Allow me to take my leave, your Highness," he said in a gentle, but
+distant tone.
+
+The countess understood the delicate modesty of this conduct. "Did your
+blue gentians teach this tact? It would seem that lonely pastures,
+whispering hazel copses, and dashing mountain streams are better
+educators of the heart, for those who understand their mysterious
+language, than many of our schools."
+
+Freyer was silent a moment, then with eyes bent on the floor, he said:
+"May I ask when your Highness intends to leave to-morrow?"
+
+"_Must_ I go, Freyer?"
+
+"Your Highness--"
+
+"Here is a telegram which announces my arrival at home to-morrow. Tell
+me, Freyer, shall I send it?"
+
+"How can _I_ decide--" stammered Freyer in confusion.
+
+"I wish to know whether you--_you_, Freyer, would like to keep me
+here?"
+
+"But Good Heavens, your Highness--is it seemly for me to express such a
+wish? Of course it will be a great pleasure to have you remain--but how
+could I seek to influence you in any way?"
+
+"Mere phrases!" said the countess, disappointed and offended. "Then, if
+it is a matter of indifference to you whether I go or stay, I will send
+the telegram." She went to the table to add something.
+
+Suddenly he stood close beside her, with a beseeching, tearful
+glance--and laid his hand upon the paper.
+
+"No--do not send it."
+
+"Not send it?" asked Madeleine in blissful expectation. "Not send
+it--then what am I to do?"
+
+His lips moved several times, as if he could not utter the word--but at
+last it escaped from his closed heart, and with an indescribable smile
+he murmured: "Stay!"
+
+Ah! A low cry of exultation escaped the countess, and the telegram lay
+torn upon the table. Then with a trembling hand she wrote the second,
+which she requested him to send at once. It contained only the words:
+"Am ill--cannot come!"
+
+He was still standing at her side, and she gave it to him to read.
+
+"Is it true?" he asked, after glancing at it, looking at her with
+timid, sportive reproach. "Are you ill?"
+
+"Yes!" she said caressingly, laying her hand, as if she felt a pang,
+upon her heart. "I _am_!"
+
+He clasped both in his own and asked softly in a tone which sent a
+thrill of happiness through every vein: "How shall we _cure_ this
+illness?"
+
+She felt his warm breath on her waving hair--and dared not stir.
+
+Then, with sudden resolution he shook off the thrall: "Good-night,
+Countess!"
+
+The next moment he was hurrying past the window.
+
+Ludwig, wondering at his Mend's hasty departure, entered.
+
+"What has happened, Countess?"
+
+"Signs and wonders have happened," she said, extending her arms as if
+transfigured.
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+
+                         IN THE EARLY MORNING.
+
+
+"Rise Mary! Night is darkening and the wintry storms are raging--but be
+comforted, in the early morning, in the Spring garden, you will see me
+again."
+
+The countess woke from a short slumber as if some one had uttered the
+words aloud. She glanced around the dusky room, it was still early,
+scarcely a glimmer of light pierced through the chinks of the shutters.
+She tried to sleep again, but in vain. The words constantly rang in her
+ears: "In the early morning you will see me again." Now the chinks in
+the shutters grew brighter, and one golden arrow after another darted
+through. The countess threw aside the coverlet and started up. Why
+should she torment herself with trying to court sleep? Outside a dewy
+garden offered its temptations.
+
+True, it was an autumn, not a spring garden. Yet for her it was
+Spring--it had dawned in her heart--the first springtime of her life.
+
+Up and away! Should she wake Josepha, who slept above her? Nay, no
+sound, no word must disturb this sacred morning stillness.
+
+She dressed and, half an hour later, glided lightly, unseen, into the
+garden.
+
+The clock in the church steeple was striking six. A fresh autumn breeze
+swept like a band of jubilant sprites through the tops of the ancient
+trees, then rushing downward, tossed her silken hair as though it would
+fain bear away the filmy strands to some envious wood-nymph to weave
+nets from it for the poor mortals who might lose themselves in her
+domain.
+
+On the ground at her feet, too, the grasses and shrubs swayed and
+rustled as if little gnomes were holding high revel there. A strange
+mood pervaded all nature.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau looked upward; there were huge cloud-shapes in
+the sky, but the sun was shining brightly in a broad expanse of blue.
+The bells were ringing for early mass. The countess clasped her hands.
+Everything was silent and lonely, no eye beheld, no ear heard her, save
+the golden orb above. The birds carolling their matin songs, the
+flowers whose cups were filled with morning dew, the buzzing, humming
+bees--all were celebrating the great matins of awakening nature--and
+she, whose heart was full of the morning dew of the first genuine
+feeling of her life, was she alone not to join in the chorus of
+gratitude of refreshed creation?
+
+There is a language whose key we do not possess. It is the Sanscrit of
+Nature and of the human soul when it communes with the deity. The
+countess sank silently down on the dewy grass. She did not pray in set
+words--there was an interchange of thought, her heart spoke to God, and
+reason knew not what it confided to Him.
+
+In the early morning in the spring garden "thou wilt see me again!"
+There again spoke the voice which had roused her so early! The countess
+raised her head--but still remained kneeling as if spell-bound. Before
+her stood the Promised One.
+
+She could say nothing save the word uttered by Mary Magdalene:
+"Master!"
+
+A loving soul can never be surprised by the object of its love because
+it expects him always and everywhere, yet it appears a miracle when its
+expectation becomes fulfilment.
+
+"Have I interrupted your prater? I did not see you because you were
+kneeling"--he said, gently.
+
+"You interrupt my prayer--you who first taught me to pray?" she asked,
+holding out her hand that he might help her rise. "Tell me, how did you
+come here?"
+
+"I could not sleep--some yearning urged me to your presence--to your
+garden."
+
+He gently raised her, while she gazed into his eyes as if enraptured.
+"Master!" she repeated. "Oh, my friend, I was like Mary Magdalene, my
+Lord had been taken away and I knew not where they had laid Him. Now I
+know. He was buried in my own heart and the world had rolled the stone
+before it, but yesterday--yesterday He rose and the stone was cast
+aside. So some impulse urged me into the garden early this morning to
+seek Him and lo--He stands before me as He promised."
+
+"Do not speak so!--I am well aware that the words are not meant for me,
+but if you associate Christ so closely with my personality, I fear that
+you will confound Him with me, and that His image will be dimmed, if
+anything should ever shadow mine! I beseech you, Countess, by all that
+is sacred--learn to separate Him from me--or you have not grasped the
+true nature of Christ, and my work will be evil!" He stood before her
+with hand uplifted in prophecy, the outlines of his powerful form were
+sharply relieved against the dewy, shining morning air. Purity,
+chastity, the loftiest, most inspired earnestness were expressed in his
+whole bearing, all the dignity of the soul and of primeval, divinely
+created human nature.
+
+Must not she have that feeling of adoration which always seizes upon us
+whenever, no matter where it may be, the deity is revealed in His
+creations? No, she did not understand what he meant, she only
+understood that there was something divine in him, and that the
+perception of this nearness to God filled her with a happiness never
+known before. Joseph Freyer was the guarantee of the existence of a God
+in whom she had lost faith--why should she imagine Him in any other
+form than the one which she had found Him again? "Thou shalt make
+thyself no graven image!" Must this Puritanically misunderstood literal
+statement destroy man's dearest possession, the _symbol of the
+reality_? Then the works of Raphael, Titian, and Rubens must be
+effaced, and the unions of miracles of faith, wrought in the souls of
+the human race by the representations of the divine nature.
+
+"Oh blessed image-worship, now I understand your meaning!" she joyously
+exclaimed. "Whoever reviles you has never felt the ardent desire of the
+weak human heart, the captive of the senses, for contact with the
+unapproachable, the sight of the face of the ever concealed yet ever
+felt divinity. Here, here stands the most perfect image Heaven and
+earth ever created, and must I not kneel before it, clasp it with all
+the tendrils of my aspiring soul? No! No one ought, no one can prevent
+me."
+
+Half defiantly, half imploringly, the words poured from her inmost soul
+like molten lava. "Let all misunderstand me--save _you_, Freyer! You,
+by whom God wrought the miracle, ought not to be narrow-minded! _You_
+ought not to destroy it for me, you least of all!" Then she pleaded,
+appealed to him: "Let saints, let glorified spirits grasp _only_ the
+essence and dispense with the earthly pledge--I cannot! I am a type of
+the millions who live snared by the weaknesses, the ideas, the
+pleasures of the world of sense; do you suddenly require of me the
+abstract purity and spiritualization of religious thought, to which
+only the highest innate or required perfection leads? Be forbearing to
+me--God has various ways of drawing the rebellious to Him! To the soul
+which is capable of material ideas only. He gives revelations by the
+senses until, through pain and sorrow, it has worked its way upward to
+intellectual ones. And until I can behold the _real_ God in His shadowy
+sphere, I shall cling lovingly and devoutly to His _image_."
+
+She sank on her knees before him in passionate entreaty. "Do not
+destroy it for me, rather aid the pious delusion which is to save me!
+Bear patiently with the woe of a soul seeking its salvation, and leave
+the rest to God!" She leaned her brow against the hand which hung by
+his side and was silent from excess of emotion.
+
+The tall, stalwart man stood trembling as Abraham may have stood before
+the thicket when God stayed his uplifted arm and cried in tender love:
+"I will not accept thy sacrifice."
+
+He had a presentiment that the victim would be snatched from him also,
+if he was too stern, and all the floods of his heart burst forth, all
+the flood gates of love and pity opened. Bending down, he held her head
+in a close, warm clasp between both hands, and touched her forehead
+with quivering lips.
+
+A low cry of unutterable bliss, and she sank upon his breast; the next
+instant she lifted her warm rosy lips to his.
+
+But he drew back a step in agonizing conflict; "No, Countess, for
+Heavens's sake no, it must not be."
+
+"Why not?" she asked, her face blanching.
+
+"Let me remain worthy of the miracle God has wrought upon you through
+me. If I am to represent Christ to you, I must at least feel and think
+as He did, so far as my human weakness will permit, or everything will
+be a deception."
+
+The countess covered her face with her hands. "Ah, no one can utter
+such words who knows aught of love and longing!" she moaned between her
+set teeth in bitter scorn.
+
+"Do you think so?" exclaimed Freyer, and the tone in which he spoke
+pierced her heart like a cry of pain. Drawing her hands from her face,
+he forced her to meet his glowing eyes: "Look at me and see whether the
+tears which now course down my cheeks express no love and longing. Look
+at yourself, your sweet, pouting lips, your sparkling eyes, all your
+radiant charms, and ask yourself whether a man into whose arms such a
+woman falls _can_ remain unmoved? When you have answered these
+questions, say to yourself: 'How that man must love his Saviour, if he
+buys with such sacrifices the right to wear His crown of thorns!'
+Perhaps you will then better understand what I said just now of the
+spirit and nature of Christ."
+
+Countess Madeleine made no reply, but wringing her hands, bent her eyes
+on the ground.
+
+"Have I wounded you, Countess?"
+
+"Yes, unto death. But it is best so. I understand you. If I am to love
+you as Christ, you must _be_ Christ. And the more severe you are, the
+higher you raise me! Alas--the pain is keen!" She pressed her hand upon
+her heart as though to close a wound, a pathetic expression of
+resignation rested on her pallid face.
+
+"Oh, Countess, do not make my task too hard for me. I am but mortal!
+Oh, how can I see you suffer? _I_ can renounce everything, but to hurt
+_you_ in doing so--is beyond my power."
+
+"Do not say _you_ in this solemn hour! Call me by my name, I would fain
+hear it once from your lips!"
+
+"And what _is_ your name?"
+
+"Maria Magdalena."
+
+"No. You call yourself so under the impression of the Passion Play."
+
+"I was christened Maria Magdalena von Prankenberg."
+
+"Maria Magdalena," he repeated, his eyes resting upon her with deep
+emotion as she stood before him, she whose bearing was usually so
+haughty, now humble, silent, submissive, like the Penitent before the
+Master. Suddenly, overpowered by his feelings, he extended his arms:
+"_My_ Magdalena."
+
+"My Master, my salvation," she sobbed, throwing herself upon his
+breast. He clasped her with a divine gesture of love in his embrace.
+
+"Oh, God she has flown hither like a frightened dove and nestled in my
+breast. Poor dove, I will conceal and protect you from every rude
+breeze, from every base touch of the world! Build your nest in my
+heart--here you shall rest in the peace of God!" He pressed her head
+close to his heart.
+
+"How you tremble, dove! May I call you so?"
+
+"Oh, forever!"
+
+"Are you wearied by your long flight? Poor dove! Have you fluttered
+hither to me across the wild surges of the world, to bring the olive
+branch, the token of reconciliation, which makes my peace with things
+temporal and eternal? And must I now thrust you from me, saying as
+Christ said to Magdalene! 'Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to
+my Father?' Shall I drive you forth again into this chaos, that the
+faithful wings which bore you on the right way may droop exhausted till
+you perish in the billows of the world?" He clasped her still more
+closely: "Oh, God! This cannot be Thy will! But I think I understand
+Thee, Omnipotent One--Thou hast _entrusted_ this soul to me, and I will
+guard it for Thee _loyally_!"
+
+It was an hour of sacred happiness. Her head rested on his breast. Not
+a leaf stirred on the boughs. The dense shadow of the beeches
+surrounded them, separating them from the world as if the universe
+contained naught save this one spot of earth, and the dream of this
+moment.
+
+"Tell me _one_ thing," she whispered, "only one, and I will suffer,
+atone, and purchase this hour of Heaven by any sacrifice: Do you love
+me?"
+
+He looked at her, his whole soul in his eyes. "Must I _tell_ you so?"
+he asked mournfully. "What can it serve you to put your hand into the
+wound in my heart, and see how deep it is? You cannot cure it. Have you
+not felt, from the first moment, that some irresistible spell drew me
+to you, forcing me, the recluse, to come to you again and yet again?
+What was it that drove me from my couch early this morning and sent me
+hither to your closed house and deserted garden? What was it save
+love?"
+
+"Ever since four o'clock I have wandered restlessly about with my eyes
+fixed on the shutters of your room, till the impetuous longing of my
+soul roused you and drew you from your warm bed into the chill morning
+air. Come, you are shivering, let me warm you, nestle in my arms and
+feel the glow of my heart."
+
+He sat down on the bench under the arbor, and--he knew not how it
+happened--she clung to him like a child and he could not repulse her,
+he _could_ not! She stroked his long black locks with her little soft
+hand and rested her head against his cheek--she was the very embodiment
+of innocence, simplicity, girlish artlessness. And in low murmurs she
+poured out her whole heart to him as a child confides in its father.
+Without reserve, she told him all the bitter sorrow of her whole
+life--a life which had never known either love or happiness! Having
+lost her mother when a mere child, she had been educated by a
+cold-hearted governess and a pessimistic tutor. Her father, wholly
+absorbed by the whirl of fashionable life, had cared nothing for her,
+and when scarcely out of the school-room had compelled her to marry a
+rich old man with whom for eight years existence was one long torment.
+Then, in mortal fear lest her listener would not forgive her, yet
+faithful to the truth, she confessed also how her eager soul, yearning
+for love, had striven to find some compensation, rebelling against a
+law which recognized the utmost immorality as moral, till _sin_ itself
+seemed virtue compared to the wrong of such a bond. But as the
+forbidden draught did not quench her thirst, a presentiment came to her
+that she was longing for that spring of which Christ said: "But
+whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never
+thirst!" This had brought her here, and here had been opened the
+purifying, redeeming fount of life and love.
+
+"Now you know all! My soul lies open before you! By the self denial
+with which I risked my highest blessing, _yourself_, and revealed my
+whole past life to you, you can judge whether I have been ennobled by
+your love." Slipping from his embrace, she sank on her knees before
+him: "Now judge the Penitent--I will accept from your hand whatever
+fate you may impose. But one thing I beseech you to do, whatever you
+may ask of me: remember _Christ_."
+
+Freyer raised his large dark eyes. "I do remember Him." Bending toward
+her with infinite gentleness, he lifted her in his strong arms: "Come,
+Magdalena! I cannot condemn you," he said, and the Penitent again
+rested in the embrace of compassion.
+
+"There are drops of cold perspiration on your brow," said Madeleine
+after a long silence. "Are you suffering?"
+
+"I suffer gladly. Do not heed it!" he said with effort.
+
+Then a glance of loving inquiry searched his inmost soul. "Do you
+regret the kiss which you just denied me?" she asked, scarcely above
+her breath, but the whispered question made him wince as though a probe
+had entered some hidden wound. She felt it, and some irresistible
+impulse urged her to again raise her pouting lips. He saw their rosy
+curves close to his own, and gently covered them with his hand. "Be
+true! Let us be loyal to each other. Do not make my lot harder than it
+is already! You do not know what you are unchaining." Starting up, he
+clasped his hands upon his breast, eagerly drinking in long draughts of
+the invigorating morning air. The gloomy fire which had just glowed in
+his eyes changed again to a pure, calm light. "This is so _beautiful_,
+do not disturb it," he said gently, kissing her on the forehead. "My
+child, my dove! Our love shall remain pure and sacred--shall it not?"
+
+"Yes!" she murmured in reverent submission, for now he was once more
+the image of Christ, and she bent silently to kiss his hand. He did not
+resist, for he felt that it was a comfort to her. Then he disappeared,
+calm, lofty, like one who has stripped off the fetters of this world.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau was left alone. Pressing her forehead against
+the trunk of the tree, a rude but firm support, she had sunk back upon
+the bench, closing her eyes. Her heart was almost bursting with its
+seething tide of emotion. Tears coursed down her cheeks. God had given
+her so much, that she almost swooned under this wealth of happiness.
+Only a touch of pain could balance it, or it would be too great for
+mortal strength to bear. This pain was an unsatisfied yearning, a vague
+feeling that her destiny could only be fulfilled through this love, and
+that she was still so far from possessing it. God has ordained that the
+human heart can bear only a certain measure of happiness and, when this
+limit is passed, joy becomes pain because we are not to experience here
+on earth bliss which belongs to a higher stage of development. That is
+why the greatest joy brings tears, that is why, amid the utmost love,
+we believe that we have never loved enough, that is why, amid the
+excess of enjoyment, we are consumed with the desire for a rapture of
+which this is but a foretaste, that is why every pleasure teaches us to
+yearn for a new and greater one, so that we may _never_ be satisfied,
+but continually suffer.
+
+There is but one power which, with strong hand, maintains the balance,
+teaches us to be sparing of joy, helps us endure pain, dams all the
+streams of desire and sends them back to toil and bear fruit within the
+soul: asceticism! It cuts with firm touch the luxuriant shoots from the
+tree of life, that its strength may concentrate within the marrow of
+the trunk and urge the growth _upward_. Asceticism! The bugbear of all
+the grown up children of this world. Wherever it appears human hearts
+are in a tumult as if death were at hand. Like flying ants bearing away
+their eggs to a place of safety, the disturbed consciences of
+worldlings anxiously strive to hide their secret desires and pleasures
+from the dreaded foe! But whoever dares to meet its eyes sees that it
+is not the bugbear which the apostles of reason and nature would fain
+represent it, no fleshless, bloodless shadow which strives to destroy
+the natural bond between the Creator and creation, but a being with a
+glowing heart, five wounds, and a brow bedewed with drops of sweat. Its
+office is stern and gloomy, its labor severe and thankless, for it has
+to struggle violently with rebellious souls and, save for the aid of
+the army of priests who have consecrated themselves to its service, it
+would succumb in the ceaseless struggle with materialism which is ever
+developing into higher consciousness! Yet whoever has once given
+himself to her service finds her a lofty, earnest, yet gracious
+goddess! She is the support of the feeble, the comforter of the
+unhappy and the solitary, the angel of the self-sacrificing. Whoever
+feels her hand upon a wounded, quivering heart, knows that she is the
+_benefactress_, not the taskmistress of humanity.
+
+Nor does she always appear as the gloomy mourner beside the corpse of
+murdered joys. Sometimes roses wreath the thorn-scarred brow, and she
+becomes the priestess of love. When the world and its self-created
+duties rudely sunders two hearts which God created for each other and
+leaves them to waste away in mortal anguish, _she_ is the compassionate
+one. With sanctifying power she raises the struggling souls above the
+dividing barrier of temporal things, teaches them to trample the earth
+under their feet and unites them with an eternal bond in the purer
+sphere of _intellectual_ love. Thus she unites what _morality_ severs.
+_Morality_ alone is harsh, not asceticism. Morality pitilessly
+prescribes her laws, unheeding the weakness of poor human hearts,
+asceticism helps them to submit to them. Morality _demands_ obedience,
+asceticism _teaches_ it. Morality punishes, asceticism corrects. The
+former judges by appearances, the latter by the reality. Morality has
+only the reward of the _world_, asceticism of _Heaven_! Morality made
+Mary Magdalene an outcast, asceticism led her to the Lord and obtained
+His mercy for her.
+
+And as the beautiful Magdalene of the present day sat with closed eyes,
+letting her thoughts be swept along upon the wildly foaming waves of
+her hot blood, she fancied that the bugbear once so dreaded because she
+had known it only under the guise of the fulfilment of base, loathsome
+duty was approaching. But this time the form appeared in its pure
+beauty, bent tenderly over her, a pallid shape of light, and gazed at
+her with the eyes of a friend! Low, mysterious words, in boding
+mournful tones, were murmured in her ears. As she listened, her tears
+flowed more gently, and with childlike humility she clasped the sublime
+vision and hid her face on its breast. Then she felt upon her brow a
+chill kiss, like a breath from the icy regions of eternal peace, and
+the apparition vanished. But as the last words of something heard in a
+dream often echo in the ears of the person awaking, the countess as she
+raised her closed lids, remembered nothing save the three words: "On
+the cross!" ...
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XI.
+
+                          MARY AND MAGDALENE.
+
+
+"On the cross"--was it a consolation or a menace? Who could decipher
+this rune? It was like all the sayings of oracles. History would
+explain its meaning, and when this was done, it would be too late, for
+it would be fulfilled! The countess still sat motionless in the old
+arbor. Her destiny had commenced on the cross, that was certain.
+Hitherto she had been a blind blank, driven like thousands by the wheel
+of chance. She had first entered into communication with the systematic
+order of divine thought in the hour when she saw Joseph Freyer on the
+cross. Will her fate _end_ as it _began_, upon the cross? An icy chill
+ran through her veins. She loved the cross, since it bore the man whom
+she loved, but what farther influence was it to have upon her life! And
+what had pallid asceticism to do with her? What was the source of all
+these oppressive, melancholy forebodings, which could only be justified
+if a conflict with grave duties or constraining circumstances was
+impending. Why should they not love each other, both were free!
+But--she not only desired to love him, she wished to be _his_, to claim
+him _hers_. Every loving woman longs for the fulfilment of her destiny
+in the man she loves. How was she to obtain this fulfilment? What is
+born in morality, cannot exist in immorality. He knew this, felt it,
+and it was the cause of his sternness. This was the source of her
+grief, the visit of the mysterious comforter, and the warning of the
+cross. But must the brightest happiness, the beautiful bud of love
+wither on the cross, because it grew there? Was there no other sacred
+soil where it might thrive and develop to the most perfect flower? Was
+there no wedding altar, no sacrament of marriage? She drew back as if
+she suddenly stood on the verge of a yawning abyss. Her brain reeled! A
+throng of jeering spectres seemed grinning at her, watching with
+malicious delight the leap the Countess Wildenau was about to take,
+down to a peasant! She involuntarily glanced around as if some one
+might have been listening to the _thought_. But all was still and
+silent; her secret, thank Heaven, was still her own.
+
+"Eternal Providence, what fate hast thou in store for me?" her
+questioning gaze asked the blue sky. What was the meaning of this
+extraordinary conflict? She loved Freyer as the God whom he
+represented, yet he could be hers only as a man; she must either resign
+him or the divine illusion. She felt that the instant which made him
+hers as a man would break the spell, and she would no longer love him!
+The God was too far above her to be drawn down to her level, the man
+was too low to be raised to it. Was ever mortal woman thus placed
+between two alternatives and told: "Choose!" The golden shower fell
+into Danae's lap, the swan flew to Leda, the bull bore Europa away, and
+Jupiter did not ask: "In what form do you wish me to appear?" But to
+the higher consciousness of the Christian woman the whole
+responsibility of free choice is given. And what is the reward of this
+torturing dilemma? If she chooses the God, she must resign the man, if
+she chooses the man she must sacrifice the God. Which can she renounce,
+which relinquish? She could not decide, and wrung her hands in agony.
+Why must this terrible discord be hers? Had she ventured too boldly
+into the sphere of divine life that, as if in mockery, she was given
+the choice between the immortal and the mortal in order, in the
+struggle between the two, to recognize the full extent of her weakness?
+
+It seemed so! As if utterly wearied by the sore conflict, she hid her
+face in her hands and called to her aid the wan comforter who had just
+approached so tenderly. But in vain, the revelations were silent, the
+deity would not aid her!
+
+"You ought to go up the mountain to-day, Countess," called a resonant
+voice. This time no pale phantom, no grimacing spectre stood before
+her, but her friend Ludwig, who gazed into her eyes with questioning
+sympathy. She clasped his hand.
+
+"Whenever you approach me, my friend, I can never help receiving you
+with a 'Thank Heaven!' You are one of those whose very _presence_ is
+beneficial to the sufferer, as the physician's entrance often suffices
+to soothe the patient without medicines."
+
+Ludwig sat down on the bench beside the countess. "My sisters and
+Josepha are greatly troubled because you have not yet ordered
+breakfast, and no one ventured to ask. So _I_ undertook the dangerous
+commission, and your Highness can see yonder at the door how admiringly
+my sisters' eyes are following me."
+
+The countess laughed. "Dear me, am I so dreaded a tyrant?"
+
+"No doubt you are a little inclined to be one," replied Ludwig,
+quizzically; "now and then a sharp point juts from a hidden coronet. I
+felt one myself yesterday?"
+
+"When--how?"
+
+"May I remind you of it?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"When you poured all your wrath upon poor Freyer, and resolved to leave
+Ammergau at once. Then I was puzzled for a moment."
+
+"Really?" said the countess with charming embarrassment. "Then I was
+not mistaken--I perceived it, and therefore delayed sending the
+telegram. People ought not to take such passing ebullitions so
+seriously."
+
+"Yes, Countess, but that 'passing ebullition,' might have made poor
+Freyer miserable for a long time. Pray, have more patience and
+tolerance in future. Natures so powerful and superior as yours fail to
+exert a destructive influence upon a circle of simple folk like
+ourselves, only when they show a corresponding degree of generosity,
+which suffices to excuse all our awkwardnesses. Otherwise you will some
+day thrust us down from the height to which you have raised us, and
+that would be far worse than if we had _never_ been withdrawn from our
+modest sphere."
+
+"You are right!" said the countess, thoughtfully.
+
+"My fear is that we are capable only of _rousing_ your interest, not
+_fixing_ it. We are on too unequal a footing, we feel and understand
+your spell, but are too simple and inexperienced not to be dazzled and
+confused by its ever varying phantasmagoria. Therefore, Countess, you
+are as great a source of peril as of happiness."
+
+"Hm! I understand. But suppose that for the sake of you people of
+Ammergau I desired to return to plainness--and simplicity."
+
+"You cannot, Countess, you are too young."
+
+"What do you mean? That would be the very reason I should be able to do
+so."
+
+"No, for you have passed the age when people easily accommodate
+themselves to new circumstances. Too many of the shoots of luxury have
+gained a generous growth; they will assert their claims and cannot be
+forced back into the seeds whence they came. Not until they have lived
+out their time in the world and died can they form the soil for a new
+and, if you desire it, more primitive and simple development!--Any
+premature attempt of this kind will last only a few moments and even
+these would be a delusion. But what to you would be passing moments of
+disappointment, to those who shared them would be--lifelong destiny.
+Our clumsy natures cannot make these graceful oscillations from one
+feeling to another, we stake all on one and lose it, if we are
+deceived."
+
+The countess looked earnestly at him.
+
+"You are a stern monitor, Ludwig Gross!" she said, thoughtfully. "Do
+you fear that I might play a game with one of you?"
+
+"An unconscious one, Countess--as the waves toy with a drifting boat."
+
+"Well, that would at least be no cruel one!" replied the lady, smiling.
+
+"_Any_ sport, Countess, would be cruel, which tore one of these calm
+souls from its quiet haven here and set it adrift rudderless on the
+high sea of passion." He rose. "Pardon me--I am taking too much
+liberty."
+
+"Not more than my friendship gave you a right to say. You brought your
+friend to me; you are right to warn me if you imagine I should
+heedlessly throw the priceless gift away! But, Ludwig Gross"--she took
+his hand--"do you know that I prize it so highly that I should not
+consider _myself_ too great a recompense? Do you know that you have
+just found me in a sore struggle over this problem?"
+
+Ludwig Gross drew back a step as if he could not grasp the full meaning
+of the words. So momentous did they seem that he turned pale. "Is it
+possible?" he stammered.
+
+A tremulous gesture of the hand warned him to say no more. "I don't
+know--whether it is possible! But that I could even _think_ of it, will
+enable you to imagine what value your gift possesses for me. Not a
+word, I beseech you. Give me time--and trust me. So many marvels have
+been wrought in me during the past few days, that I give myself up to
+the impulse of the moment and allow myself to be led by an ever-ruling
+Providence--I shall be dealt with kindly."
+
+Ludwig, deeply moved, kissed his companion's hand. "Countess, the
+impulse which moves you at this moment must unconsciously thrill every
+heart in Ammergau--as the sleeping child feels, even in its dreams,
+when a good fairy approaches its cradle. And it is indeed so; for, in
+you conscious culture approaches unconscious nature--it is a sublime
+moment, when the highest culture, like the fairy beside the cradle,
+listens to the breathing of humanity, where completion approaches the
+source of being, and drinks from it fresh vigor."
+
+"Yes," cried the countess, enthusiastically: "That is it. You
+understand me perfectly. All civilization must gain new strength from
+the fountain of nature or its sources of life would become dry--for
+they perpetually derive their nourishment from that inexhaustible
+maternal bosom. Where this is not accomplished in individual lives, the
+primeval element, thus disowned, avenges itself in great social
+revolutions, catastrophes which form epochs in the history of the
+world. It is only a pity that in such phases of violent renewal the
+labor of whole epochs of civilization is lost. Therefore souls in
+harmony with their age must try to reconcile peacefully what, taken
+collectively, assumes the proportions of contrasts destructive to the
+universe."
+
+"And where could we find this reconciliation, save in love?" cried
+Ludwig, enthusiastically.
+
+"You express it exactly: that is the perception toward which minds are
+more and more impelled, and whose outlines in art and science appear
+more and more distinctly. That is the secret of the influence of
+Parsifal, which extends far beyond the domain of art and, in another
+province, the success of the Passion Play! To one it revealed itself
+under one guise, to another under another. To me it was here that the
+very source of love appeared. And as you, who revealed it to me, are
+pervaded by the great lesson--I will test it first upon you. Brother!
+Friend! I will aid you in every strait and calamity, and you shall see
+that I exercise love, not only in words, but that the power working
+within me will accomplish deeds also." She clasped her hands
+imploringly: "And if I love one of you _more_ than the others, do not
+blame me. The nearer to the focus of light, the stronger the heat! He,
+that one, is surely the focus of the great light which, emanating from
+you, illumines the whole world. I am so near him--could I remain cold?"
+
+"Ah, Countess--now I will cast aside all fears for my friend. In
+Heaven's name, take him. Even if he consumes under your thrall--pain,
+too, is godlike, and to suffer for _you_ is a grand, a lofty destiny, a
+thousand-fold fairer and better than the dull repose of an every day
+happiness."
+
+"Good heavens, when have I ever heard such language!" exclaimed the
+countess, gazing admiringly at the modest little man, whose cheeks were
+glowing with the flush of the loftiest feeling. He stood before her in
+his plain working clothes, his clear-cut profile uplifted, his eyes
+raised with a searching gaze as if pursuing the vanishing traces of a
+lofty, unattainable goal.
+
+She rose: "There is not a day, not an hour here, which does not bring
+me something grand. Woe befall me if I do not show myself worthy of the
+obligation your friendship imposes, I should be more guilty than those
+to whom the summons of the ideal has never come; who have never stood
+face to face with men like you."
+
+Ludwig quietly held out his hand and clasped hers closely in her own.
+The piercing glance of his artist-eye seemed to read the inmost depths
+of her soul.
+
+After a long pause Madeleine von Wildenau interrupted the silence:
+"There stands your sister in great concern over my bodily welfare! Well
+then, let us remember that we are human--unfortunately! Will you
+breakfast with me?"
+
+"I thank you, I have already breakfasted," said Ludwig, modestly,
+motioning to Sephi to be ready.
+
+"Then at least bear me company." Taking his arm, she went with him to
+the arbor covered with a wild grape-vine where the table was spread.
+She sat down to the simple meal, while her companion served her with so
+much tact and grace that she could not help thinking involuntarily;
+"And these are peasants? What ought we aristocrats to be?" Then, as if
+in mockery of this reflection, a man in his shirt-sleeves with his
+jacket flung over his arm and a scythe in his hand passed down the
+street by the fence. "Freyer!" exclaimed the countess, her face aflame:
+"The Messiah with a scythe?"
+
+Freyer stopped. "You called me, Countess?"
+
+"Where are you going with that implement, Herr Freyer?" she asked,
+coldly, in evident embarrassment.
+
+"To mow my field!" he answered quietly. "I have just time, and I want
+to try to harvest a little hay. Almost everything goes to ruin during
+the Passion!"
+
+"But why do you cut it yourself?"
+
+"Because I have no servant, Countess!" said Freyer, smiling, raised his
+hat with the dignified gesture characteristic of him, and moved on as
+firmly and proudly as though the business he was pursuing was worthy of
+a king. And so it was, when _he_ pursued it. A second blush crimsoned
+Madeleine von Wildenau's fair forehead. But this time it was because
+she had been ashamed of him for a moment. "Poor Freyer! His little
+patrimony was a patch of ground, and should it be accounted a
+degradation that he must receive the scanty gift of nature directly
+from her hand, or rather win it blade by blade in the sweat of his
+brow?" So she reasoned.
+
+Then he glanced back at her and she felt that the look, outshining the
+sun, had illuminated her whole nature. The fiery greeting of a radiant
+soul! She waved her white hand to him, and he again raised his hat.
+
+"Where is Freyer's field?"
+
+"Not far from us, just outside the village. Would you like to go
+there?"
+
+"No, it would trouble me. I should not like to see him toiling for his
+daily bread. Men such as he ought not to find it necessary, and it must
+end in some way. God sent me here to equalize the injustice of fate."
+
+"You cannot accomplish this with Freyer, Countess, he would have been a
+rich man long ago, if he had been willing to accept anything. What do
+you imagine he has had offered by ladies who, from sacred and selfish
+motives, under the influence of his personation of the Christ, were
+ready to make any sacrifice? If ever poverty was an honor to a man, it
+is to Freyer, for he might have been in very different circumstances
+and instead is content with the little property received from his
+father, a bit of woodland, a field, and a miserable little hut. To keep
+the nobility and freedom of his soul, he toils like a servant and cares
+for house, field, and wood with his own hands."
+
+"Just see him now, Countess," he added, "You have never beheld any man
+look more aristocratic while at work than he, though he only wields a
+scythe."
+
+"You are a loyal friend, Ludwig Gross," she answered. "And an eloquent
+advocate! Come, take me to him."
+
+She hurried into the house, returning with a broad-brimmed hat on her
+head, which made her face look as blooming and youthful as a girl's.
+Long undressed kid gloves covered her arms under the half flowing
+sleeves of her gown, and she carried over her shoulder a scarlet
+sunshade which surrounded her whole figure with a roseate glow. There
+was a warmth, a tempting charm in her appearance like the velvety bloom
+of a ripe peach. Ludwig Gross gazed at her in wonder.
+
+"You are--_fatally_ beautiful!" he involuntarily exclaimed, shaking his
+head mournfully, as we do when we see some inevitable disaster
+approaching a friend. "No one ought to be so beautiful," he added,
+disapprovingly.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau laughed merrily. "Oh! you comical friend, who
+offers with so sour a visage the most flattering compliments possible.
+Our young society men might take lessons from you! Pardon me for
+laughing," she said apologetically, as Ludwig's face darkened. "But it
+came so unexpectedly, I was not prepared for such a compliment here,"
+and in spite of herself, she laughed again, the compliment was too
+irresistible.
+
+Her companion was deeply offended. He saw in this outbreak of mirth a
+levity which outraged his holiest feelings. These were "the graceful
+oscillations from one mood to another," as he had termed it that day,
+which he had so dreaded for his friend, and which now perplexed his own
+judgment!
+
+A moment was sufficient to reveal this to the countess, in the next she
+had regained her self-control and with it the power of adapting herself
+to the earnestness of her friend's mood.
+
+He was walking silently at her side with a heavy heart. There had been
+something in that laugh which he could not fathom, readily as he
+grasped any touch of humor. To the earnest woman he had seen that
+morning, he would have confided his friend in the belief that he was
+fulfilling a lofty destiny; to the laughing, coquettish woman of the
+world, he grudged him; Joseph Freyer was far too good for such a fate.
+
+They had walked on, each absorbed in thought, leaving the village
+behind, into the open country. Few people were at work, for during the
+Passion there is rarely time to till the fields.
+
+"There he is!" Ludwig pointed to a man swinging his scythe with a
+powerful arm. The countess had dreaded the sight, yet now stood
+watching full of admiration, for these movements were as graceful as
+his gestures. The natural symmetry which was one of his characteristic
+qualities rendered him a picturesque figure even here, while toiling in
+the fields. His arms described rhythmically returning circles so
+smoothly, the poise of the elastic body, bending slightly forward, was
+so noble, and he performed the labor so easily that it seemed like a
+graceful gymnastic exercise for the training of the marvellous limbs.
+The countess gazed at him a long time, unseen.
+
+A woman's figure, bearing a jug, approached from the opposite side of
+the meadow and offered Freyer a drink. "I have brought some milk. You
+must be thirsty, it is growing warm," the countess heard her say. She
+was a gracious looking woman, clad in simple country garb, evidently
+somewhat older than Freyer, but with a noble, virginal bearing and
+features of classic regularity. Every movement was dignified, and her
+expression was calm and full of kindly earnestness.
+
+"I ought to know her," said the countess in a strangely sharp tone.
+
+"Certainly. She is the Mother of God in the Passion Play, Anastasia
+Gross, the burgomaster's sister."
+
+"Yes, the Mary!" said the countess, and again she remembered how the
+two, mother and son, had remained clasped in each other's arms far
+longer than seemed to her necessary. What unknown pang was this which
+now pierced her heart? "I suppose they are betrothed?" she asked, with
+quickened breath.
+
+"Who can tell? We think she loves him, but no one knows Freyer's
+feelings!" said Ludwig.
+
+"I don't understand, since you are such intimate friends, why you
+should not know!"
+
+"I believe, Countess, if we people of Ammergau have any good quality,
+it is discretion. We do not ask even the most intimate friend anything
+which he does not confide to us."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau lowered her eyes in confusion. After a short
+struggle she said with deadly sternness and bitterness: "You were right
+this morning--the man must be left _in his sphere_. Come, let us go
+back!" A glance from Ludwig's eyes pierced her to the heart. She turned
+back toward the village. But Freyer had already seen her and overtook
+her with the speed of thought.
+
+"Why, Countess, you here? And"--his eyes, fierce with pain, rested
+enquiringly on hers as he perceived their cold expression, "and you
+were going to leave me without a word of greeting? Were you ashamed to
+speak to the poor peasant who was mowing his grass? Or did my dress
+shock you?" He was so perfectly artless that he did not even interpret
+her indignation correctly, but attributed it to an entirely different
+cause. This did not escape the keen intuition of a woman so thoroughly
+versed in affairs of the heart. But when a drop of the venom of
+jealousy has entered the blood, it requires some time ere it is
+absorbed, even though the cause of the mischief has long been removed.
+This is an old experience, as well as the fact that, this process once
+over, repentance is all the sweeter, love the more passionate. But the
+poor simple-hearted peasant, in his artlessness, could not perceive all
+this. He was merely ashamed of standing before the countess in his
+shirt sleeves and hurriedly endeavored, with trembling fingers, to
+fasten his collar which he had opened while at work, baring his throat
+and chest. It seemed as if the hot blood could be heard pulsing against
+the walls of his arched chest, like the low murmur of the sea. The
+labor, the increasing heat of the sun, and the excitement of the
+countess' presence had quickened the usually calm flow of his blood
+till it fairly seethed in his veins, glowing in roseate life through
+the ascetic pallor of the skin, while the swelling veins stood forth in
+a thousand beautiful waving lines like springs welling from white
+stone. Both stood steeped in the fervid warmth, one absorbing, the
+other reflecting it.
+
+But with the cruelty of love, which seeks to measure the strength of
+responsive passion by the very pain it has the power to inflict, the
+beautiful woman curbed the fire kindled in her own pulses and said
+carelessly: "We have interrupted your tete-a-tete, we will make amends
+by retiring."
+
+"Countess!" he exclaimed with a look which seemed to say: "Is it
+possible that you can be so unjust! My _Mother_, Mary, was with me, she
+brought her son something to refresh him at his work, why should you
+interrupt us?"
+
+The simple words, which to her had so subtle a double meaning,
+explained everything and Madeleine von Wildenau felt, with deep
+embarrassment, that he understood her and that she must appear very
+petty in his eyes.
+
+Ludwig Gross drew out his watch. "Excuse me, it is nine o'clock; I must
+go to my drawing-school." He bowed and left them, without shaking hands
+with the countess as usual. She felt it as a rebuke, and a voice in her
+heart said: "You must become a far better woman ere you are worthy of
+this man."
+
+"Would not you like to know Mary? May I introduce her to you?" asked
+Freyer, when they were alone.
+
+"Oh, it is not necessary."
+
+"Why, how can you love the son and not care for the mother?"
+
+"She is _not_ your mother," replied the countess.
+
+"And _I_ am not the Christ. Why does the illusion affect me, and not
+Mary?"
+
+"Because it was perfect in you, but not in her."
+
+"Then there is still more reason to know her, that her personality may
+complete what her personation lacked."
+
+The countess cast a gloomy look at the tall maiden, who meanwhile had
+taken the scythe and was doing Freyer's work.
+
+"She seems to be very devoted to you," she said suspiciously.
+
+"Yes, thank Heaven, we are loyal friends."
+
+"I suppose you call each other thou."
+
+"Yes, all the Ammergau people do that, when they have been
+schoolmates."
+
+"That is a strange custom. Is it practised by those in both high and
+low stations?"
+
+"There are neither high nor low stations among us. We all stand on the
+same footing, Countess. The fact that one is richer, another poorer,
+that one can do more for education and external appearances than his
+neighbor makes no difference with us and, if it did, it would be an
+honor for me to be permitted to address Anastasia with the familiar
+thou, for she and the whole Gross family are far above me. Even in your
+sense of the word, Countess, the burgomaster is an aristocrat, no child
+of nature like myself, but a man familiar with social usages and
+thoroughly well educated."
+
+"Well, then," cried the countess, "why don't you marry the lady, if she
+possesses such superior advantages?"
+
+"Marry?" Freyer started back as if instead of Madeleine's beautiful
+face he had suddenly beheld some hideous vision, "I have never thought
+of it!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"The Christ wed Mary? The son the mother? No, though we are not what we
+represent, _that_ would be impossible. I have become so accustomed to
+regard her as my mother that it would seem to me a profanation."
+
+"But next winter, when the Play is over, it will be different."
+
+"And _you_ say this to me, Countess; _you_, after this morning?" cried
+Freyer, with a trembling voice. "Are you in earnest?"
+
+"Certainly. I cannot expect you, for my sake, to neglect older claims
+upon your heart!"
+
+"Countess, if I had older claims, would I have spoken to you as I did
+to-day, would the events have occurred which happened to-day? Can you
+believe such things of me? You are silent? Well, Countess, that may be
+the custom in your circle, but not in mine."
+
+"Forgive me, Freyer!" stammered the lady, turning pale.
+
+"Freyer shaded his eyes with his hand as if the sun dazzled him, in
+order to conceal his rising tears.
+
+"For what are you looking?" asked the countess, who thought he was
+trying to see more distinctly.
+
+He turned his face, eloquent with pain, full toward her. "I was looking
+to see where my dove had flown, I can no longer find her. Or was it all
+a dream?"
+
+"Freyer!" cried the countess, utterly overwhelmed, slipping her hand
+through his arm and resting her head without regard for possible
+spectators on his heaving breast. "Joseph, your dove has not flown
+away, she is here, take her to your heart again and keep her forever,
+forever, if you wish."
+
+"Take care, Countess," said Freyer, warningly, "there are people moving
+in all directions."
+
+She raised her head. "Will it cause you any harm?" she asked, abashed.
+
+"Not me, but you. I have no one to question me and could only be proud
+of your tokens of favor, but consider what would be said in your own
+circle, if it were rumored that you had rested your head on a peasant's
+breast."
+
+"You are no peasant, you are an artist."
+
+"In your eyes, but not in those of the world. Even though we do
+passably well in wood-carving and in the Passion Play, so long as we
+are so poor that we are compelled to till our fields ourselves, and
+bring the wood for our carvings from the forest with our own hands, we
+shall be ranked as peasants, and no one will believe that we are
+anything else. You will be blamed for having associated with such
+uncultured people."
+
+"Oh, I will answer for that before the whole world."
+
+"That would avail little, my beloved one, Heaven forbid that I should
+ever so far forget myself as to boast of your love before others, or
+permit you to do anything which they would misjudge. God alone
+understands what we are to each other, and therefore it must remain
+hidden in His bosom where no profane eye can desecrate it."
+
+The countess clung closer to him in silent admiration. She remembered
+so many annoyances caused by the indiscretions due to the vanity of men
+whom she had favored, that this modest delicacy seemed so chivalrous
+and lofty that she would fain have fallen at his feet.
+
+"Dove, have I found you again?" he said, gazing into her eyes. "My
+sweet, naughty dove! You will never more wound and wrong me so. I feel
+that you might break my heart" And pressing her arm lightly to his
+side, he raised her hand to his burning lips.
+
+A glow of happiness filled Madeleine von Wildenau's whole being as she
+heard the stifled, passionate murmur of love. And as, with every
+sunbeam, the centifolia blooms more fully, revealing a new beauty with
+each opening petal, so too did the soul of the woman thus illumined by
+the divine ray of true love.
+
+"Come," she said suddenly, "take me to the kind creature who so
+tenderly ministers to you, perhaps suffers for you. I now feel drawn
+toward her and will love her for your sake as your mother, Mary."
+
+"Ah, my child, that is worthy of you! I knew that you were generous and
+noble! Come, my Magdalene, I will lead you to Mary."
+
+They walked rapidly to the field where Anastasia was busily working.
+The latter, seeing the stranger approach, let down the skirt she had
+lifted and adjusted her dress a little, but she received the countess
+without the least embarrassment and cordially extended her hand. _Her_
+bearing also had a touch of condescension, which the great lady
+especially noticed. Anastasia gazed so calmly and earnestly at her that
+she lowered her eyes as if unable to bear the look of this serene soul.
+The smoothly brushed brown hair, the soft indistinctly marked brows,
+the purity of the features, and the virginal dignity throned on the
+noble forehead harmonized with the ideal of the Queen of Heaven which
+the countess had failed to grasp in the Passion Play. She was
+beautiful, faultless from head to foot, yet there was nothing in her
+appearance which could arouse the least feeling of jealousy. There was
+such spirituality in her whole person--something--the countess could
+not describe it in any other way--so expressive of the sober sense of
+age, that the beautiful woman was ashamed of her suspicion. She now
+understood what Freyer meant when he spoke of the maternal relation
+existing between Anastasia and himself. She was the true Madonna, to
+whom all eyes would be lifted devoutly, reverently, yet whom no man
+would desire to press to his heart. She was probably not much older
+than the countess, two or three years at most, but compared with her
+the great lady, so thoroughly versed in the ways of the world, was but
+an immature, impetuous child. The countess felt this with the secret
+satisfaction which it affords every woman to perceive that she is
+younger than another, and it helped her to endure the superiority which
+Anastasia's lofty calmness maintained over her. Nay, she even accepted
+the inferior place with a coquettish artlessness which made her appear
+all the more youthful. Yet at the very moment she adopted the childish
+manner, she secretly felt its reality. She was standing in the presence
+of the Mother of God. Womanly nature had never possessed any charm for
+her, she had never comprehended it in any form. She had never admired
+any of Raphael's Madonnas, not even the Sistine. A woman interested her
+only as the object of a man's love for which she might envy her, the
+contrary character, the ascetic beauty of an Immaculate was wholly
+outside of her sphere. Now, for the first time in her life, she was
+interested in a personality of this type, because she suddenly realized
+that the Virgin was also the Mother of the Saviour. And as her love for
+the Christ was first awakened by her love for Joseph Freyer, her
+reverence for Mary was first felt when she thought of her as his
+mother! Madeleine von Wildenau, so poor in the treasures of the heart,
+the woman who had never been a mother, suddenly felt--even while
+in the act of playing with practised coquetry the part of childlike
+ignorance--under the influence of the man she loved, the _reality_ in
+the farce and her heart opened to the sacred, mysterious bond between
+the mother and the child. Thus, hour by hour, she grew out of the
+captivity of the world and the senses, gently supported and elevated by
+the might of that love which reconciles earth and heaven.
+
+She held out one hand to Anastasia, the other to Freyer. "I, too, would
+fain know the dear mother of our Christ!" she said, with that sweet,
+submissive grace which the moment had taught her. Freyer's eyes rested
+approvingly upon her. She felt as if wings were growing on her
+shoulders, she felt that she was beautiful, good, and beloved; earth
+could give no more.
+
+Anastasia watched the agitated woman with the kindly, searching gaze of
+a Sister of Charity. Indeed, her whole appearance recalled that of one
+of these ministering spirits, resigned without sentimentality; gentle,
+yet energetic; modest, yet impressive.
+
+"I felt a great--" the countess was about to say "admiration," but this
+was not true, she admired her now for the first time! She stopped
+abruptly in the midst of her sentence, she could utter no stereotyped
+compliments at this moment. With quiet dignity, like a princess giving
+audience, Anastasia came to her assistance, by skilfully filling up the
+pause: "So this is your first visit to Ammergau?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then you have doubtless been very much impressed?"
+
+"Oh, who could remain cold, while witnessing such a spectacle?"
+
+"Yes, is not our Christ perfect?" said Anastasia, smiling proudly. "He
+costs people many tears. But even _I_ cannot help weeping, and I have
+played it with him thirty times." She passed her hand across his brow
+with a tender, maternal caress, as if she wished to console him for all
+his sufferings. "Does it not seem as if we saw the Redeemer Himself?"
+
+The countess watched her with increasing sympathy. "You have a
+beautiful soul! Your friend was right, people should know you to
+receive the full impression of Mary."
+
+"Yes, I play it too badly," replied Anastasia, whose native modesty
+prevented her recognition of the flattery conveyed in the countess'
+words.
+
+"No--badly is not the word. But the delicate shadings of the feminine
+nature are lost in the vast space," the other explained.
+
+"It may be so," replied Anastasia, simply. "But that is of no
+importance; no matter how we others might play--_he_ would sustain the
+whole."
+
+"And your brother, Anastasia, and all the rest--do you forget them?"
+said Freyer, rebukingly.
+
+"Yes, dear Anastasia." The countess took Freyer's hand. "I have given
+my soul into the keeping of this Christ--but your brother's performance
+is also a masterpiece! It seems to me that you are unjust to him. And
+also to Pilate, whom I admired, the apostles and high-priests."
+
+"Perhaps so. I don't know how the others act--" said Mary with an
+honesty that was fairly sublime. "I see only him, and when he is not on
+the stage I care nothing for the rest of the performance. It is because
+I am his _mother_: to a mother the son is beyond everything else," she
+added, calmly.
+
+The countess looked at her in astonishment. Was it possible that a
+woman could love in this way? Yet there was no doubt of it. Had even a
+shadow of longing to be united to the man she loved rested on the soul
+of this girl, she could not have had thus crystalline transparency and
+absolute freedom from embarrassment.
+
+These Madonnas are happy beings! she thought, yet she did not envy this
+calm peace.
+
+Drawing off her long glove with much difficulty, she took a ring from
+her finger. "Please accept this from me as a token of the secret bond
+which unites us in love for--your son! We will be good friends."
+
+"With all my heart!" said Anastasia in delight, holding out her
+sunburnt finger to receive the gift. "What will my brother say when
+I come home with such a present?" She gratefully kissed the donor's
+hand. "You are too kind, Countess--I don't know how I deserve it."
+She stooped and lifted her jug. "I must go home now to help my
+sister-in-law. You will visit us, won't you? My brother will be so
+pleased."
+
+"Very gladly--if you will allow me," replied the lady, smiling.
+
+"I beg you to do so!" said Anastasia with ready tact. Then with noble
+dignity, she moved away across the fields, waving her hand from the
+distance to the couple she had left behind, as if to say: "Be happy!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+
+                            BRIDAL TORCHES.
+
+
+"Magdalene--Wife--Angel--what shall I call you?" cried Freyer,
+extending his arms. "Oh, if only we were not in the open fields, that I
+might press you to my heart and thank you for being so kind--so
+_generous_ and so kind."
+
+"Does your heart at last yearn for me? Then let us come into the
+forest, where no one is watching us save holy nature. Take me up one of
+the mountains. Will you? Can you? Will not your hay spoil?"
+
+"_Let_ it spoil, what does that matter? But first you must allow me to
+go home to put on garments more suitable for your society."
+
+"No, that will be too late! Remain as you are--you are handsome in any
+clothes," she whispered, blushing faintly, like a girl, while she
+lowered her eyes from the kingly figure to the ground. A happy smile
+flitted over her face. Stooping, she picked up the jacket which he had
+removed while doing his work.
+
+"And you--are you equipped for mountain climbing?"
+
+"Oh, we will not go far. Not farther than we can go and return in time
+for dinner."
+
+"Come, then. If matters come to the worst, I will take my dove on my
+shoulder and carry her when she can walk no farther."
+
+"Oh, happy freedom!" cried the countess, joyously! "To wander through
+the woods, like two children in a fairy tale, enchanted by some wicked
+fairy and unable to appear again until after a thousand years! Oh,
+poetry of childhood--for the first time you smile upon me in all your
+radiance. Come, let us hasten--it is so beautiful that I can hardly
+believe it. I shall not, until we are there."
+
+She flew rather than walked by his side. "My dove--suppose that we were
+enchanted and forced to remain in the forest together a thousand
+years?"
+
+"Let us try it!" she whispered, fixing her eyes on his till he
+murmured, panting for breath: "I believe--the spell is beginning to
+work." And his eyes glowed with a gloomy fire as he murmured, watching
+her: "Who knows whether I am not harboring the Lorelei herself, who is
+luring me into her kingdom to destroy me!"
+
+"What do you know of the Lorelei?"
+
+Freyer stopped. "Do you suppose I read nothing? What else should I do
+during the long evenings, when wearied by my work, I am resting at
+home?"
+
+"Really?" she asked absently, drawing him forward.
+
+"Do you suppose I could understand a woman like you if I had not
+educated myself a little? Alas, we cannot accomplish much when the
+proper foundation is lacking. The untrained memory retains nothing
+firmly except what passes instantly into flesh and blood, the
+perception of life as it is reflected to us from the mirror of art. But
+even this reflection is sometimes distorted and confuses our natural
+thoughts and feelings. Alas, dear one, a person who has learned nothing
+correctly, and yet knows the yearning for something higher, without
+being able to satisfy it--is like a lost soul that never attains the
+goal for which it longs."
+
+"My poor friend, I do know that feeling--to a certain extent it is the
+same with us women. We, too, have the yearning for education, and
+finally attain only a defective amount of knowledge! But, by way of
+compensation, individuality, directness, intuitiveness are developed
+all the more fully. You did not need to know anything--your influence
+is exerted through your personality; as such you are great. All
+knowledge comes from man, and is attainable by him--the divine gift of
+individuality can neither be gained, nor bestowed, any more than
+intuition! What is all the logic of reflecting reason compared with the
+gift of intuition, which enabled you to assume the part of a God? Is
+not that a greater marvel than the hard-won result of systematic study
+at the desk?"
+
+"You are a kind comforter!" said Freyer.
+
+"Thinking makes people old!" she continued. "It has aged the human
+race, too.--Nature, simplicity, love must restore its youth! In them is
+_direct_ contact with the deity; in civilization only an indirect one.
+Fortunately for me, I have put my lips to their spring. Oh, eternal
+fountain of human nature, I drink from you with eager draughts."
+
+They had entered the forest--the tree-tops rustled high above their
+heads and at their feet rippled a mountain stream. Madeleine von
+Wildenau was silent--her heart rested on her friend's broad breast,
+heaving with the rapid throbbing of his heart, her supple figure had
+sunk wearily down by his side. "Say no more--not a word is needed
+here." The deep gloom of the woods surrounded them--a sacred stillness
+and solitude. "On every height there dwells repose!" echoed in soft
+melody above her head, the marvellous Rubinstein-Goethe song. There was
+no human voice, it seemed like a mere breath from the distance of a
+dream--like the wind sweeping over the chords of the cymbal hung by
+Lenau's gypsy on a tree, scarcely audible, already dying away again.
+Her ear had caught the notes of that AEolian harp once before: she knew
+them again; on the cross--with the words: "Into _thy_ hands I commend
+my spirit." And sweet as the voice which spoke at that time was now the
+tenor that softly, softly hushed the restless spirit of the worldling
+to slumber. "Wait; soon, soon--" and then the notes gradually rose till
+the whole buzzing, singing woodland choir seemed to join in the words:
+"Thou, too, shalt soon rest."
+
+The mysterious sound came from the depths of the great heart on which
+she rested, as if the soul had quitted the body a few moments and now,
+returning, was revealing with sweet lamentation what it had beheld in
+the invisible world.
+
+"Are you weeping?" he asked tenderly, kissing the curls which clustered
+round her forehead: "_My child_."
+
+"Oh, when you utter that word, I have a feeling which I never
+experienced before. Yes, I am, I wish to be a child in your hands. Only
+those who have ever tasted the delight of casting the burden of their
+own egoism upon any altar, whether it be religion or love--yielding
+themselves up, becoming absorbed in another, higher power--_only those_
+can know my emotions when I lean on your breast and you call me your
+child! Thus released from ourselves, thus free and untrammelled must we
+feel when we have stripped off in death the fetters of the body and
+merged all which is personal to us in God."
+
+"Heaven has destined you for itself, and you already feel how it is
+loosening your fibres and gradually drawing you up out of the soil in
+which you are rooted. That is why you wept when I sang that song to you
+here in the quiet woodland solitude. Such tears are like the drops the
+tree weeps, when a name is cut upon it. At such moments you feel the
+hand of God tearing open the bark which the world has formed around
+your heart, and the sap wells from the wounded spot. Is it not so?" He
+gently passed his hand over her eyes, glittering with unshed tears.
+
+"Ah, noble soul! How you penetrate the depths of my being! What is all
+the wit and wisdom of the educated mind, compared with the direct
+inspiration of your poetic nature. Freyer, Spring of the earth--Christ,
+Spring of humanity! My heart is putting forth its first blossom for
+you, take it." She threw herself with closed eyes upon his breast, as
+if blindly. He clasped her in a close embrace, holding her a long time
+silently in his arms. Then he said softly: "I will accept the beautiful
+blossom of your heart, my child, but not for myself." He raised his
+eyes fervently upward: "Oh, God, Thou hast opened Thy hand to the
+beggar, and made him rich that he may sacrifice to Thee what no king
+could offer. I thank Thee."
+
+Something laughed above their heads--it was a pair of wild-doves,
+cooing in the green tent over them.
+
+"Do you know why they are laughing?" asked the countess, in an altered
+tone. "They are laughing at us!"
+
+"Magdalena!"
+
+"Yes! They are laughing at the self-tormenting doubt of God's goodness.
+Look around you, see the torrent foaming, and the blue gentians
+drinking its spray, see the fruit-laden hazel, the sacred tree which
+sheltered your childhood; see the bilberries at your feet, all the
+intoxicating growth and movement of nature, and then ask yourself
+whether the God who created all this warm, sunny life is a God who only
+_takes_--not _gives_. Do you believe He would have prepared for us this
+Spring of love, that we may let its blossoms wither on the cold altar
+of duty or of prejudice? No--take what He bestows--and do not
+question."
+
+"Do not lead me into temptation, Magdalena!" he gently entreated. "I
+told you this morning that you do not know what you are unloosening."
+
+He stood before her as if transfigured, his eyes glowed with the sombre
+fire which had flashed in them a moment early that morning, a rustling
+like eagle's pinions ran through the forest--Jupiter was approaching in
+human form.
+
+The beautiful woman sat down on a log with her hands clasped in her
+lap.
+
+"A man like me loves but once, but with his whole being. I _demand_
+nothing--but what is given to me is given _wholly_, or not at all; for
+if I once have it, I will never give it up save with my life!
+
+"Not long since a stranger came here, who sang the song of the Assras,
+who die when they love. I believe I am of their race. Woman, do not
+toy, do not trifle with me! For know--I love you with the fatal love of
+those 'Assras.'"
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau trembled with delight.
+
+"If I once touch your lips, the barrier between us will have fallen!
+Will you forgive me if the flood-tide of feeling sweeps me away till I
+forget who you are and what a gulf divides the Countess Wildenau from
+the low-born peasant?"
+
+"Oh, that you can remind me of it--in this hour--!" cried the countess,
+with sorrowful reproach.
+
+He looked almost threateningly into her eyes. The dark locks around his
+head seemed to stir like the bristling mane of a lion: "Woman, you do
+not know me! If you deceive me, you will betray the most sacred emotion
+ever felt by mortal man--and it will be terribly avenged. Then the
+flame you are kindling will consume either you or me, or both. You see
+that I am now a different man. Formerly you have beheld me only when
+curbed by the victorious power of my holy task. You have conjured up
+the spirits, now they can no longer be held in thrall--will you not be
+terrified by the might of a passion which is unknown to you people of
+the world, with your calm self-control?"
+
+"_I_, terrified by you?" cried the proud woman in a tone of exultant
+rapture. "Oh, this is power, this is the very breath of the gods.
+Should I fear amid the element for which I longed--which was revealed
+to me in my own breast? Does the flame fear the fire? The Titaness
+dread the Titan? Ah, Zeus, hurl thy thunderbolt, and let the forest
+blaze as the victorious torch of nature at last released from her long
+bondage."
+
+He sat down by her side, his fiery breath fanning her cheek. "Then you
+will try it, will give me the kiss I dared not take to-day?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But it will be a betrothal kiss."
+
+"Yes."
+
+He opened his arms, and as a black moth settles upon a fragrant
+tea-rose, hovering on its velvet wings above the dewy calyx, he bent
+his head to hers, shadowing her with his dark locks and pressed his
+first kiss upon Madeleine von Wildenau's quivering lips.
+
+But such moments tempt the gods themselves, and Jupiter hovered over
+the pair, full of wrath, for he envied the Christian mortal the
+beautiful woman. He had heard her laughingly challenge him in the midst
+of the joy she had stolen from the gods, and the heavens darkened, the
+hurricane saddled the steeds of the storm, awaiting his beck, and down
+flashed the fire from the sky--a shrill cry rent the air, the highest
+tree in the forest was cleft asunder and the bridal torch lighted by
+Jupiter blazed aloft.
+
+"The gods are averse to it," said Freyer, gloomily. "Defy them!" cried
+the countess, starting up; "they are powerless--we are in the hands of
+a Higher Ruler."
+
+"Woman, you do not belong to this world, or you have no nerves which
+can tremble."
+
+"Tremble?" She laughed happily. "Tremble, by _your_ side?" Then,
+nestling closer still, she murmured: "I am as cowardly as ever woman
+was, but where I love I have the courage to defy death. Even were I to
+fall now beneath a thunderbolt, could I have a fairer death than at
+_this_ moment? You would willingly die for your Christ--and I for
+mine."
+
+"Well then, come, you noble woman, that I may shield you as well as I
+can! Now we shall see whether God is with us! I defy the elements!" He
+proudly clasped the object of his love in his arms and bore her firmly
+on through the chaos into which the whole forest had fallen. The
+tempest, howling fiercely, burst its way through the woods. The boughs
+snapped, the birds were hurled about helplessly. The destroying element
+seemed to come from both heights and depths at the same time, for it
+shook the earth and tore the roots of trees from the ground till the
+lofty trunks fell shattered and, rolling down the mountain, swept
+everything with them in the sudden ruin. With fiendish thirst for
+battle the fiery sword flamed from the sky amid the uproar, dealing
+thrust after thrust and blow after blow--while here and there scarlet
+tongues of flame shot hissing upward through the dry branches.
+
+A torrent of rain now dashed from the clouds but without quenching the
+flames, whose smoke was pressed down into the tree-tops, closely
+interlaced by the tempest. Like a gigantic black serpent, it rolled its
+coils from every direction, stifling, suffocating with the glowing
+breath of the forest conflagration, and the undulating cloud body bore
+with it in glittering, flashing sparks, millions of burning pine
+needles.
+
+"Well, soul of fire, is the heat fierce enough for you now?" asked
+Freyer, pressing the beautiful woman closer to his side to shield her
+with his own body: "Are you content now?"
+
+"Yes," she said, gasping for breath, and the eyes of both met, as if
+they felt only the fire in their own hearts and had blended this with
+the external element into a single sea of flame.
+
+Nearer, closer drew the fire in ever narrowing circles around the
+defiant pair, more and more sultry became the path, brighter grew the
+hissing blaze through which they were compelled to force their way.
+Now on the left, now on the right, the red-eyed conflagration
+confronted them amid the clouds of smoke and flame, half stifled by the
+descending floods of rain, yet pouring from its open jaws hot,
+scorching steam--fatal to laboring human chests--and obliged the
+fugitives to turn back in search of some new opening for escape.
+
+"If the rain ceases, we are lost!" said the countess with the utmost
+calmness. "Then the fire will be sole ruler."
+
+Freyer made no reply. Steadily, unflinchingly, he struggled on,
+grasping with the strength of a Titan the falling boughs which
+threatened the countess' life, shielding with both arms her uncovered
+head from the flying sparks, and ever and anon, sprinkling her hair and
+garments from some bubbling spring. The water in the brooks was already
+warm. Throngs of animals fleeing from the flames surrounded them, and
+birds with scorched wings fell at their feet. It was no longer possible
+to go down, the fire was raging below them. They were compelled to
+climb up the mountain and seek the summit.
+
+"Only have courage--forward!" were Freyer's sole words. And upward they
+toiled--through the pathless woods, through underbrush and thickets,
+over roots of trees, rolling stones, and rocks, never pausing, never
+taking breath, for the flames were close at their heels, threatening
+them with their fiendish embrace. Where the path was too toilsome,
+Freyer lifted the woman he loved in his arms and bore her over the
+rough places.
+
+At last the woods grew thinner, the boundary of the flames was passed,
+they had reached the top--were saved. The neighing steeds of the wind
+received them on the barren height and strove to hurl them back into
+the fiery grave, but Freyer's towering form resisted their assault and,
+with powerless fury, they tore away the rocks on the right and left and
+rolled them thundering down into the depths below. The water pouring
+from the clouds drenched the lovers like a billow from the sea, beating
+into their eyes, mouths, and ears till, blinded and deafened, they were
+obliged to grope their way along the cliff. The garments of the
+beautiful Madeleine von Wildenau hung around her in tatters, heavy as
+lead, her hair was loosened, dripping and dishevelled, she was
+trembling from head to foot with cold in the icy wind and rain here on
+the heights, after the heat and terror below in the smouldering
+thicket.
+
+"I know where there is a herder's hut, I'll take you to it. Cling
+closely to me, we must climb still higher."
+
+They silently continued the ascent.
+
+The countess staggered with fatigue. Freyer lifted her again in his
+arms, and, by almost superhuman exertion, bore her up the last steep
+ascent to the hut. It was empty. He placed the exhausted woman on the
+herder's straw pallet, where she sank fainting. When she regained her
+consciousness she was supported in Freyer's arms, and her face was wet
+with his tears. She gazed at him as if waking to the reality of some
+beautiful dream. "Is it really you?" she asked, with such sweet
+childlike happiness, as she threw her arms around him, that the strong
+man's brain and heart reeled as if his senses were failing.
+
+"You are alive, you are safe?" He could say no more. He kissed her
+dripping garments her feet, and tenderly examined her beautiful limbs
+to assure himself that she had received no injury. "Thank Heaven!" he
+cried joyously, amid his tears, "you are safe!" Then, half staggering,
+he rose: "Now, in the presence of the deadly peril we have just
+escaped, tell me whether you really love me, tell me whether you are
+mine, _wholly_ mine! Or hurl me down into the blazing forest--it would
+be more merciful, by Heaven! than to deceive me."
+
+"Joseph!" cried the countess, clinging passionately to him. "Can you
+ask that--now?"
+
+"Alas! I cannot understand how a poor ignorant man like me can win the
+love of such a woman. What can you love, save the illusion of the
+Christ, and when that has vanished--what remains?"
+
+"The divine, the real _love_!" replied the countess with a lofty
+expression.
+
+"Oh, I believe that you are sincere. But if you have deceived yourself,
+if you should ever perceive that you have overestimated me--ah, it
+would be far better for me to be lying down below amid the flames than
+to experience _that_. There is still time--consider well, and say--what
+shall it be?"
+
+"Consider?" replied the countess, drawing his head down to hers. "Tell
+the torrent to consider ere it plunges over the cliff, to dissolve into
+spray in the leap. Tell the flower to consider ere it opens to the
+sunbeam which will consume it! Will you be more petty than they? What
+is there to consider, when a mighty impulse powerfully constrains us?
+Is not this moment worth risking the whole life without asking: 'What
+is to come of it?' Ah, then--then, I have been mistaken in you and it
+will be better for us to part while there is yet time."
+
+"Oh--enchantress! You are right, I no longer know myself! Part, now?
+No, it is too late, I am yours, body and soul. Be it so, then, I will
+barter my life for this moment, and no longer doubt, for I _can_ do
+nothing else."
+
+Sinking on his knees before her, he buried his face in her lap.
+Madeleine von Wildenau embraced him with unspeakable tenderness, yet
+she felt the burden of a heavy responsibility resting upon her, for she
+now realized--that she was his destiny. She had what she desired, his
+soul, his heart, his life--nay, had he possessed immortality, he would
+have sacrificed that, too, for her sake. But now the "God" had become
+_human_--the choice was made. And, with a secret tear she gazed upon
+the husk of the beautiful illusion which had vanished.
+
+"What is the matter?" he asked suddenly, raising his head and gazing
+into her eyes with anxious foreboding. "You have grown cold."
+
+"No, only sad."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"Alas! I do not know! Nothing in this world can be quite perfect." She
+drew him tenderly toward her. "This is one of those moments in which
+the highest happiness becomes pain. The fury of the elements could not
+harm us, but it is a silent, stealing sorrow, which will appease the
+envy of the gods for unprecedented earthly bliss: Mourning for my
+Christus."
+
+Freyer uttered a cry of anguish and starting up, covered his face with
+both hands. "Oh, that you are forced to remind me of it!" He rushed out
+of the hut.
+
+What did this mean. The beautiful mistress of his heart felt as if she
+had deceived herself when she believed him to be exclusively her own,
+as if there was something in the man over which she had no power!
+Filled with vague terror, she followed him. He stood leaning against
+the hut as if in a dream and did not lift his eyes. The sound of
+alarm-bells and the rattle of fire-arms echoed from the valley. The
+rain had ceased, and columns of flame were now rising high into the
+air, forming a crimson canopy above the trees in the forest. It was a
+wild scene, this glowing sea of fire into which tree after tree
+gradually vanished, the air quivering with the crash of the falling
+boughs, from which rose a shower of sparks, and a crowd of shrieking
+birds eddying amid the flames. Joseph Freyer did not heed it. The
+countess approached almost timidly. "Joseph--have I offended you?"
+
+"No, my child, on the contrary! When I reminded you to-day of the
+obligations of your rank, you were angry with me, but I thank you for
+having remembered what I forgot for your sake."
+
+"Well. But, spite of the warning, I was not ashamed of you and did not
+disown you before the Countess Wildenau! But you, Joseph, are ashamed
+of me in the presence of Christ!"
+
+He gazed keenly, sorrowfully at her. "I ashamed of you, I deny you in
+the presence of my Redeemer, who is also yours? I deny you, because
+I am forced to confess to Him that I love you beyond everything
+else--nay, perhaps more than I do _Him_? Oh, my dearest, how little you
+know me! May the day never come which will prove which of us will first
+deny the other, and may you never be forced to weep the tears which
+Peter shed when the cock crowed for the third time."
+
+She sank upon his breast. "No, my beloved, that will never be! In the
+hour when _that_ was possible, you might despise me."
+
+He kissed her forehead tenderly. "I should not do that--any more than
+Christ despised Peter. You are a child of the world, could treachery to
+me be charged against you if the strong man, the disciple of Christ,
+was pardoned for treason to the _holiest_."
+
+"Oh, my angel! It would be treason to the 'holiest,'" said the countess
+with deep emotion, "if I could deny _you_!"
+
+"Why, for Heaven's sake, Herr Freyer," shouted a voice, and the
+herdsman came bounding down the mountain side: "Can you stand there so
+quietly--amid this destruction?" The words died away in the distance.
+
+"The man is right," said the countess in a startled tone, "we are
+forgetting everything around us. Whoever has hands must help. Go--leave
+me alone here and follow the herdsman."
+
+"There is no hope of extinguishing the fire, the wood is lost!" replied
+Freyer, indifferently. "It is fortunate that it is an isolated piece of
+land, so the flames cannot spread."
+
+"But, Good Heavens, at least try to save what can yet be secured--that
+is only neighborly duty."
+
+"I shall not leave you, happen what may."
+
+"But I am safe, and perhaps some poor man's all, is burning below."
+
+"What does it matter, in this hour?"
+
+"What does it matter?" the countess indignantly exclaimed. "Joseph, I
+do not understand you! Have you so little feeling for the distress of
+your fellow men--and yet play the Christ?"
+
+Freyer gazed at the destruction with a strange expression--his noble
+figure towered proudly aloft against the gloomy, cloud-veiled sky.
+Smiling calmly, he held out his hand to the woman he loved and drew her
+tenderly to his breast: "Do not upbraid me, my dove--the wood was
+_mine_."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIII.
+
+                          BANISHED FROM EDEN.
+
+
+Silence reigned on the height. The winds had died away, the clouds were
+scattering swiftly, like an army of ghosts. The embers of the wood
+below crackled softly. The trunks had all been gnawed to the roots by
+the fiery tooth of the flames. It was like a churchyard full of clumsy
+black crosses and grave-stones on which the souls danced to and fro
+like will-o'-the-wisps.
+
+The countess rested silently on Freyer's breast. When he said: "The
+wood was mine!" she had thrown herself, unable to utter a word, into
+his arms--and had since remained clasped in his embrace in silent,
+perfect peace.
+
+Now the misty veil, growing lighter and more transparent, at last
+drifted entirely away, and the blue sky once more arched above the
+earth in a majestic dome. Here and there sunbeams darted through the
+melting cloud-rack and suddenly, as though the gates of heaven had
+opened, a double rainbow, radiant in seven-hued majesty, spanned the
+vault above them in matchless beauty.
+
+Freyer bade the countess look up. And when she perceived the exquisite
+miracle of the air, with her lover in the midst--encompassed by it, she
+raised her head and extended her arms like the bride awaiting the
+heavenly bridegroom. Her eyes rested on him as if dazzled: "Be what you
+will, man, seraph, God. Shining one, you must be mine! I will bring you
+down from the height of your cross, though you were nailed above with
+seven-fold irons. You must be mine. Freyer, hear my vow, hear it, ye
+surrounding mountains, hear it, sacred soil below, and thou radiant
+many-hued bow which, with the grace of Aphrodite, dost girdle the
+universe, risen from chaos. I swear to be your wife, Joseph Freyer,
+swear it by the God Who has appeared to me, rising from marvel to
+marvel, since my eyes first beheld you."
+
+Freyer, with bowed head, stood trembling before her. He felt as if a
+goddess was rolling in her chariot of clouds above him--as if the
+glimmering prism above were dissolving and flooding him with a sea of
+glittering sparks. "You--my wife?" he faltered, sobbing, then flung
+himself face downward before her. "This is too much--too much--"
+
+"You shall be my husband," she murmured, raising him, "let me call you
+so now until the priest's hand has united us! When, where, and how this
+can be done--I do not yet know! Let the task of deciding be left to
+hours devoted to the consideration of earthly things. This is too
+sacred, it is our spiritual marriage hour, for in it I have pledged
+myself to you in spirit and in truth! Our church is nature, our
+witnesses are heaven and earth, our candles the blazing wood
+below--your little heritage which you sacrificed for me with a smile!
+And so I give you my bridal kiss--my husband!"
+
+But Freyer did not return the caress. The old conflict again awoke--the
+conflict with his duty as the representative of Christ.
+
+"Oh, God--is it not the tempter whom Thou didst send to Thy own son on
+Mt. Hebron that he might show him all the splendors of the world,
+saying: 'All shall be thine?' Dare I be faithless to the character of
+Thy chaste son, if Thou dost appoint me to undergo the same trial? Dare
+I be happy, dare I enjoy, so long as I wear the sacred mask of His
+sufferings and sacrifice. Will it not then be a terrible fraud, and
+dare I enter the presence of God with this lie upon my conscience? Will
+He not tear the crown of thorns from my head and exclaim: 'Juggler--I
+wish to rise by the pure and saintly--not by deceivers who _feign_ my
+sufferings and with deceitful art turn the holiest things into a farce.
+Woe betide me, poor, weak mortal that I am--the trial is too severe. I
+cannot endure it. Take Thy crown--I place it in Thy hands again--and
+will personate the Christ no more."
+
+"Joseph!" exclaimed Countess Wildenau, deeply moved. "Must this be? I
+feel your anguish and am stirred as if we were parting from our dearest
+possession." She raised her tearful eyes heavenward. "Must the Christ
+vanish on the very day I plight my troth to him whom I love as Thy
+image, even as Eve must have loved Adam _for the sake of his likeness
+to God_. And must I, like Eve, no longer behold Thy face because I have
+loved the divine in mortal form after the manner of mortals? Unhappy
+doctrine of the fall of man, which renders the holiest feeling a crime,
+must we too be driven out of Paradise, must you stand between us and
+our happy intercourse with the deity? Joseph. Do you believe that the
+Saviour Who came to bring redemption to the poor human race banished
+from Eden, will be angry with you if you represent with a happy loving
+heart the sacrifice by which He saved us?"
+
+"I do not know, my beloved, you may be right. Even the time-honored
+precepts of our forefathers permit the representative of the Christ to
+be married. Yet I think differently! The highest demands claim the
+loftiest service! Whoever is permitted to personate the Saviour should
+have at that time no other feelings than moved Christ Himself, for
+_truth_ may not be born of _falsehood_."
+
+He drew the weeping woman to his heart. "You know, sweet wife--to love
+_you_ and call you _mine_ is a very different thing from the monotonous
+commonplace matrimonial happiness which our plain village women can
+bestow. You demand the _whole_ being and every power of the soul is
+consumed in you."
+
+He clasped her in an embrace so fervent that her breath almost failed,
+his eyes blazed with the passionate ardor with which the unchained
+elements seize their prey. "Say what you will, it is on your
+conscience! I can feel nothing, think of nothing save you! Nay, if they
+should drive the nails through my own flesh, I should not heed it, in
+my ardent yearning for you. I have struggled long enough, but you have
+bewitched me with the sweet promise of becoming my wife--and I am
+spoiled for personating the Christ. I am yours, take me! Only fly with
+me to the farthest corner of the world, away from the place where I was
+permitted to feel myself a part of God, and resigned it for an earthly
+happiness."
+
+"Come then, my beloved, let us go forth like the pair banished from
+Eden, and like them take upon us, for love's sake, our heavy human
+destiny! Let us bear it together, and even in exile love and worship,
+like faithful cast-off children, the Father who was once so near us!"
+
+"Amen!" said Freyer, clasping the beautiful woman who thus devoted her
+life to him in a long, silent embrace. The rainbow above their heads
+gradually paled. The radiant splendor faded. The sun was again
+concealed by clouds, and the warm azure of the sky was transformed into
+a chill grey by the rising mists. The mountain peak lay bare and
+cheerless, the earth was rent and ravaged, nothing was visible save
+rough rubble and colorless heather. An icy fog rose slowly, gathering
+more and more densely around them. Nothing could be seen save the
+sterile soil of the naked ridge on which stood the two lonely outcasts
+from Eden. The gates of their dream paradise had closed behind them,
+the spell was broken, and in silent submission they moved down the
+hard, stony path to reality, the cruel uncertainty of human destiny.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+
+                                 PIETA.
+
+
+Twilight was gathering when the pair reached the valley.
+
+The Passion Theatre loomed like a vast shadow by the roadside, and
+both, as if moved by the _same_ impulse, turned toward it.
+
+Freyer, drawing a key from his pocket, opened the door leading to the
+stage. "Shall we take leave of it?" he said.
+
+"Take leave!"
+
+The countess said no more. She knew that the success of the rest of the
+performances depended solely upon him--and it burdened her soul like a
+heavy reproach. Yet she did not tell him so, for hers he must be--at
+any cost.
+
+The strength of her passion swept her on to her robbery of the cross,
+as the wind bears away the leaf it has stripped from the tree.
+
+They entered the property room. There stood the stake, there lay the
+scourges which lacerated the sacred body. The spear that pierced his
+heart was leaning in a corner.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau gazed around her with a feeling of dread. Freyer
+had lighted a lamp. Something close beside it flashed, sending its rays
+far through the dim space. It was the cup, the communion cup! Freyer
+touched it with a trembling hand: "Farewell! I shall never offer you to
+any one again! May all blessings flow from you! Happy the hand which
+scatters them over the world and my beloved Ammergau."
+
+He kissed the brim of the goblet, and a tear fell into it, but it
+glittered with the same unshadowed radiance. Freyer turned away, and
+his eyes wandered over the other beloved trophies.
+
+There lay the reed sceptre broken on the floor.
+
+The countess shuddered at the sight. A strange melancholy stole over
+her, and tears filled her eyes.
+
+"My sceptre of reeds--broken--in the dust!" said Freyer, his voice
+tremulous with an emotion which forced an answering echo in Madeleine
+von Wildenau's soul. He raised the fragments, gazing at them long and
+mournfully. "Aye, the sad symbol speaks the truth--my strength is
+broken, my sovereignty vanished."
+
+A terrible dread overpowered the countess and she fondly clasped the
+man she loved, as a princess might press to her heart her dethroned
+husband, grieving amid the ruins of his power. "You will still remain
+king in my heart!" she said, consolingly, amid her tears.
+
+"You must now be everything to me, my loved one. In you is my Heaven,
+my justification in the presence of God. Hold me closely, firmly, for
+you must lift me in your arms out of this constant torture by the
+redeeming power of love." He rested his head wearily on hers, and she
+gladly supported the precious burden. She felt at that moment that she
+had the power to lift him from Hades, that the love in her heart was
+strong enough to win Heaven for him and herself.
+
+"Womanly nature is drawing us together!" She clung to him, so absorbed
+in blissful melancholy that his soul thrilled with an emotion never
+experienced before. Their lips now met in a kiss as pure as if all
+earthly things were at an end and their rising souls were greeting each
+other in a loftier sphere.
+
+"That was an angel's kiss!" said Freyer with a sigh, while the air
+around the stake seemed to quiver with the rustling of angels' wings,
+the chains which bound him to it for the scourging to clank as though
+some invisible hand had flung one end around the feet of the fugitives,
+to bind them forever to the place of the cross.
+
+"Come, I have one more thing to do." He took the lamp from the table
+and went into the dressing-room.
+
+There hung the raiment in which a God revealed Himself to mortal
+eyes--the ample garments stirred mysteriously in the draught from the
+open door. A glimmering white figure seemed to be soaring upward in one
+corner--it was the Resurrection robe. Inflated by the wind, it floated
+with a ghost-like movement, while the man divested of his divinity
+stood with clasped hands and drooping head--to say farewell.
+
+When a mortal strips off his earthly husk he knows that he will
+exchange it for a brighter one! _Here_ a mortal was stripping off his
+robe of light and returning to the oppressive form of human
+imperfection. This, too, was a death agony.
+
+The countess clung to him tenderly. "Have you forgotten me?"
+
+He threw his arm around her. "Why, sweet one?"
+
+"I mean," she said, with childlike grace, "that if you thought of _me_,
+you could not be so sad."
+
+"My child, I forget you at the moment I am resigning Heaven for your
+sake. You do not ask that seriously. As for the pain, let me endure
+it--for if I could do this with a _light_ heart, would the sacrifice be
+worthy of you? By the anguish it costs me you must measure the
+greatness of my love, if you can."
+
+"I can, for even while I rest upon your heart, while my lips eagerly
+inhale your breath, I pine with longing for your lost divinity."
+
+"And no longer love me as you did when I was the Christ. Be frank--it
+will come!"
+
+He pressed his hands upon his breast, while his eyes rested mournfully
+on the shining robe which seemed to beckon to him from the gloom.
+
+"Oh, what are you saying! You sacrifice for me the greatest possession
+which man ever resigned for woman; the illusion of deity--and I am to
+punish you for the renunciation by loving you less? Joseph, what _you_
+give me, no king can bestow. Crowns have been sacrificed for a woman's
+sake, crowns of gold--but never one like this!"
+
+"My wife!" he murmured in sweet, mournful tones, while his dark eyes
+searched hers till her very soul swooned under the power of the look.
+
+She clasped her hands upon his breast. "Will you grant me one favor?"
+
+"If I can."
+
+"Ah, then, appear to me once more as the Christ. I will go out upon the
+stage. Throw the sacred robe over you--let me see Him once more, clasp
+His knees--let me take farewell, an eternal farewell of the departing
+One."
+
+"My child, that would be a sin! Are you again forgetting what you
+yourself perceived this morning with prescient grief--that I am a man?
+Dare I continue the sacred character outside of the play? That would be
+working wrong under the mask of my Saviour."
+
+"No, it would be no wrong to satisfy the longing for His face. I will
+not touch you, only once more, for the last time show my wondering eyes
+the sublime figure and let the soul pour forth all the anguish of
+parting to the vanishing God."
+
+"My wife, where is your error carrying you! Did the God-Man I
+personated vanish because I stripped off His mask? Poor wife, the
+anguish which now masters you is remorse for having in your sweet
+womanly weakness destroyed the pious illusion and never rested until
+you made the imaginary God a man. Oh, Magdalena, how far you still are
+from the goal gained by your predecessor. Come, I will satisfy your
+longing; I will lead you where you will perceive that He is everywhere,
+if we really seek Him, that the form alone is perishable. He is
+imperishable." Then gently raising her, he tenderly repeated: "Come.
+Trust me and follow me." Casting one more sorrowful glance around him,
+he took from the table the crown of thorns, extinguished the lamp, and
+with a steady arm guided the weeping woman through the darkness.
+Outside of the building the stars were shining brightly, the road was
+distinctly visible. The countess unresistingly accompanied him. He
+turned toward the village and they walked swiftly through the silent
+streets. At last the church rose, dark and solemn, before them. He led
+her in. A holy-water font stood at the entrance, and, pausing, he
+sprinkled her with the water. Then they entered. The church was dark.
+No light illumined it save the trembling rays of the ever-burning lamp
+and two candles flickering low in their sockets before an image of the
+Madonna in a remote corner. They were obliged to grope their way
+forward slowly amid the wavering shadows. At the left of the entrance
+stood a "Pieta." It was a group almost life-size, carved from wood. The
+crucified Saviour in the Madonna's lap. Mary Magdalene was supporting
+his left hand, raising it slightly, while John stood at the Saviour's
+feet. The whole had been created by an artist's hand with touching
+realism. The expression of anguish in the Saviour's face was very
+affecting. Before the group stood a priedieu on which lay several
+withered wreaths.
+
+The countess' heart quivered; he was leading her there! So this was to
+be the compensation for the living image? Mere dead wood?
+
+Freyer drew her gently down upon the priedieu. "Here, my child, learn
+to seek him here, and when you have once found Him, you will never lose
+Him more. Lay your hands devoutly on the apparently lifeless breast and
+you will feel the heart within throbbing, as in mine--only try."
+
+"Alas, I cannot, it will be a falsehood if I do."
+
+"What, _that_ a falsehood, and I--was _I_ the Christ?"
+
+"I could imagine it!"
+
+"Because I breathed? Ah, the breath of the deity can swell more than a
+human breast, sister, and you will hear it! Collect your thoughts--and
+pray!"
+
+His whisper grew fainter, the silence about her more solemn. "I cannot
+pray; I never have prayed," she lamented, "and surely not to lifeless
+wood."
+
+"Only try--for my sake," he urged gently, as if addressing a restless
+child, which ought to go to sleep and will not.
+
+"Yes; but stay with me," she pleaded like a child, clinging to his arm.
+
+"I will stay," he said, kneeling by her side.
+
+"Teach me to pray as you do," she entreated, raising her delicate hands
+to him. He clasped them in his, and she felt as if the world could do
+her no further harm, that her soul, her life, lay in his firm hands.
+
+The warmth emanating from him became in her a devout fervor. The pulses
+of ardent piety throbbing in his finger-tips seemed to communicate a
+wave-like motion to the surrounding air, which imparted to everything
+which hitherto had been dead and rigid, an undulating movement that
+lent it a faint, vibrating life.
+
+Something stirred, breathed, murmured before and above her. There was a
+rustling among the withered leaves of the garlands at the foot of the
+Pieta, invisible feet glided through the church and ascended the steps
+of the high altar; high up the vaulted dome rose a murmur which
+wandered to the folds of the funeral banner, hanging above, passing
+from pillar to pillar, from arch to arch, in ghostly echoes which the
+listening ear heard with secret terror, the language of the silence.
+And the burning eyes beheld the motionless forms begin to stir. The
+contours of the figures slowly changed in the uncertain, flickering
+light, the shadows glided and swung to and fro. The Saviour's lips
+opened, then slowly closed, the kneeling woman touched the rigid limbs
+and laid her fevered fingers on the wounded breast. The other hand
+rested in Freyer's. A chain was thus formed between the three, which
+thrilled and warmed the wood with the circulating stream of the hot
+blood. It was no longer a foreign substance--it was the heart, the poor
+pierced heart of their beloved, divine friend. It throbbed, suffered,
+bled. More and more distinctly the chest rose and fell with the regular
+breathing. It was the creative breath of the deity, which works in the
+conscious and unconscious object, animating even soulless matter. The
+arm supported by Mary Magdalene swayed to and fro, the fingers of the
+hand moved gently. The poor pierced hand--it seemed as if it were
+trying to move toward the countess, as if it were pleading, "Cool my
+pain."
+
+Urged by an inexplicable impulse, the countess warmed the stiff,
+slender fingers in her own. She fancied that it was giving relief.
+Higher and higher swelled the tide of feeling in her heart until it
+overflowed--and--she knew not how, she had risen and pressed a kiss
+upon the wounds in the poor little hand, a kiss of the sweetest, most
+sacred piety. She felt as if she were standing by a beloved corpse
+whose mute lips we seek, though they no longer feel.
+
+She could not help it, and bending down again the rosy lips of the
+young widow rested on the pale half-parted ones of the statue. But the
+lips breathed, a cool, pure breath issued from them, and the rigid form
+grew more pliant beneath the sorrowful caress, as though it felt the
+reconciling pain of the penitent human soul. But the divine fire which
+was to purify this soul, blazed far beyond its boundaries in this first
+ardor. Overpowered by a wild fervor, she flung herself on her knees and
+adjured the God whose breath she had drunk in that kiss, to hear her.
+The friend praying at her side was forgotten, the world had vanished,
+every law of reason was annihilated, all knowledge was out of her
+mind--every hard-won conquest of human empiricism was effaced. From the
+heights and from the depths it came with rustling pinions, bearing the
+soul away on the flood-tide of mercy. The _miracle_ was approaching--in
+unimagined majesty.
+
+Thousands of years vanished, eternity dawned in that _one_ moment. All
+that was and is, _was_ not and _is_ not--past, present, and future,
+were blended and melted into a single breath beyond the boundaries of
+the natural life.
+
+"If it is Thou, if Thou dost live, look at me," she had cried with
+ardent aspiration, and, lo!--was it shadow or imagination?--the eyes
+opened and two large dark pupils were fixed upon her, then the lids
+closed for an instant to open again The countess gazed more and more
+earnestly; it was distinct, unmistakable. A shudder ran through her
+veins as, in a burning fever, the limbs tremble with a sudden chill.
+She tried to meet the look, but spite of the tension in every nerve,
+the effort was futile. It was too overpowering; it was the gaze of a
+God. Dread and rapture were contending for the mastery. Doubtless she
+said to herself, "It is not _outside_ of you, but within you." Once
+more she ventured to glance at the mysterious apparition, but the eyes
+were fixed steadily upon her. Terror overpowered her. The chord of the
+possible snapped and she sank half senseless on the steps of the altar,
+while the miracle closed its golden wings above her.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XV.
+
+                        THE CROWING OF THE COCK.
+
+
+A loud step roused the rapt enthusiast from her visions. The sacristan
+was passing through the church, extinguishing the candles which,
+meanwhile, had burned down in their sockets before the Madonna in the
+distant corner.
+
+"I beg your pardon for disturbing you," he said; "but I wanted to close
+the church. There is plenty of time, however. Shall I leave a candle?
+It will be too dark; the lamp alone does not give sufficient light."
+
+"I thank you," replied Freyer, more thoughtful than the countess, who,
+unable to control herself, remained on her knees with her face buried
+in her hands.
+
+"I will lock the church when we leave it and bring you the key," Freyer
+added, and the sacristan was satisfied. The imperious high priest
+withdrew silently and modestly, that he might not disturb the prayers
+of the man whom he sentenced to death every week with such fury.
+
+The lovers were again alone, but the door remained open. The shrill
+crowing of a cock suddenly echoed through the stillness from the yard
+of the neighboring parsonage. The countess started up. Her eyes were
+painfully dazzled by the light of the wax candle so close at hand.
+Before her, the face smeared with shining varnish, lay the wooden
+Christ, hard and cold in its carven bareness and rigidity. The
+pale-blue painted eyes gazed with the traditional mournfulness upon the
+ground.
+
+"What startled you just now?" asked Freyer.
+
+"I don't know whether it was a miracle or a shadow, which created the
+illusion, but I would have sworn that the statue moved its lids and
+looked at me."
+
+"Be it what it might, it was still a miracle," said Freyer. "If the
+finger of God can paint the Saviour's eyes to the excited vision from
+the wave of blood set in motion by the pulsation of our hearts, or from
+the shadow cast by a smoking candle, is that any less wonderful than if
+the stiff lids had really moved?"
+
+The countess breathed a long sigh of relief; "Yes, you are right. That
+is the power which, as you say, can do more than swell a human breast,
+it can make, for the yearning soul, a heart throb even in a Christ
+carved from wood. Even if what I have just experienced could have been
+done by lifeless matter, the power which brought us together was
+divine, and no one living could have resisted it. Lay aside your crown
+of thorns trustfully and without remorse, you have accomplished your
+mission, you have saved the soul for which God destined you, it was His
+will, and who among us could resist Him?"
+
+Freyer raised the crown of thorns, which he still held, to his lips,
+kissed it, and laid it at the feet of the Pieta: "Lord, Thy will be
+done, in so far as it is Thy will. And if it is not, forgive the
+error."
+
+"It is no error, I understand God's purpose better. He has sent me His
+image in you and given it to me in an attainable human form, that I may
+learn through it to do my duty to the prototype. To the feeble power of
+the novice in faith. He graciously adds an earthly guide. Oh, He is
+good and merciful!"
+
+She raised Freyer from his knees: "Come, thou God-given one, that I may
+fulfil the sweetest duty ever imposed on any mortal, that of loving you
+and making you happy. God and His holy will be praised."
+
+"And will you no longer grieve for the lost Christ?"
+
+"No, for you were right. He is everywhere!"
+
+"In God's name then, come and obey the impulse of your heart, even
+though I perish."
+
+"Can you speak so to-day, Joseph?"
+
+"To-day especially. Would you not just now have sworn to the truth of
+an illusion conjured up by a shadow? And were you not disappointed when
+the light came and the spell vanished? The time will come when you will
+see me, as you now do this wooden figure, in the light of commonplace
+reality, and then the nimbus will vanish and nothing will remain save
+the dross as here. Then your soul will turn away disenchanted and
+follow the vanished God to loftier heights."
+
+"Or plunge into the depths," murmured the countess.
+
+"I should not fear that, for then my mission would have been vain! No,
+my child, if I did not believe that I was appointed to save you I
+should have no excuse in my own eyes for what I am doing. But come, it
+is late, we must return home or our absence will occasion comment."
+
+                           *   *   *   *   *
+
+It was half-past nine o'clock. An elderly gentleman of distinguished
+aristocratic bearing was pacing impatiently to and fro.
+
+The two sisters were standing helplessly in the doorway, deeply
+oppressed by the burden of so haughty a guest.
+
+"If she would only come!" Sephi lamented in the utmost anxiety, for she
+dreaded the father for the daughter's sake. It was the old Prince von
+Prankenberg, and his bearing augured nothing good.
+
+It seemed to these loyal souls a democratic impertinence on the part of
+fate that _such_ a gentleman should be kept waiting, and the prince
+regarded it in precisely the same light. The good creatures would
+willingly have lent wings to the daughter for whom _such_ a father was
+waiting. But what did it avail that the noble lord constantly quickened
+his pace as he walked to and fro, time and his unsuspicious daughter
+did not do the same. Prince Prankenberg had reached Ammergau at noon
+that day and waited in vain for the countess. On his arrival he had
+found the whole village in an uproar over the conflagration in the
+woods, and the countess and Herr Freyer, who had been seen walking
+together in that direction, were missing. At last the herder reported
+that they had been in the mountain pasture with him, and Ludwig Gross,
+on his return from directing the firemen in the futile effort to
+extinguish the flames, set off to inform the Countess Wildenau of her
+father's arrival. He had evidently failed to find her, for he ought to
+have returned long before. So the faithful women had been on coals of
+fire ever since. Andreas Gross had gone to the village to look for the
+absent ones, as if that could be of any service! Josepha was gazing
+sullenly through the window-panes at the prince, who had treated her as
+scornfully as if she were a common maid-servant, when she offered to
+show him the way to the countess' room, and answered: "People can't
+stay in such a hole!" Meanwhile night had closed in.
+
+At last, coming from exactly the opposite direction, a couple
+approached whose appearance attracted the nobleman's attention. A
+female figure, bare-headed, with dishevelled hair and tattered,
+disordered garments, leaning apparently almost fainting on the arm of a
+tall, bearded man in a peasant's jacket. Could it--no, it was
+impossible, that _could_ not be his daughter.
+
+The unsuspecting pair came nearer. The lady, evidently exhausted, was
+really almost carried by her companion. It was too dark for the prince
+to see distinctly, but her head seemed to be resting on the peasant's
+breast. An interesting pair of lovers! But they drew nearer, the prince
+could not believe his eyes, it _was_ his daughter, leaning on a
+peasant's arm. There was an involuntary cry of horror from both as
+Countess Wildenau stood face to face with her haughty father. The blood
+fairly congealed in Madeleine's veins, her cheeks blanched till their
+pallor glimmered through the gloom! Yet the habit of maintaining social
+forms did not desert her: "Oh, what a surprise! Good evening, Papa!"
+
+Her soul had retreated to the inmost depths of her being, and she was
+but a puppet moving and speaking by rule.
+
+Freyer raised his hat in a farewell salute.
+
+"Are you going?" she said with an expressionless glance. "I suppose I
+cannot ask you to rest a little while? Farewell, Herr Freyer, and many
+thanks."
+
+How strange! Did it not seem as if a cock crowed?
+
+Freyer bowed silently and walked on, "Adieu!" said the prince without
+lifting his hat. For an instant he considered whether he could possibly
+offer his aim to a lady in _such_ attire, but at last resolved to do
+so--she was his daughter, and this was not exactly the right moment to
+quarrel with her. So, struggling with his indignation and disgust, he
+escorted her, holding his arm very far out as though he might be soiled
+by the contact, through the house into her room. The Gross sisters,
+with trembling hands, brought in lights and hastily vanished. Madeleine
+von Wildenau stood in the centre of the room, like an automaton whose
+machinery had run down. The prince took a candle from the table and
+threw its light full upon her face. "Pardon me, I must ascertain
+whether this lady, who looks as if she had just jumped out of a
+gipsy-cart, is really my daughter? Yes, it is actually she!" he
+exclaimed in a tone intended to be humorous, but which was merely
+brutal. "So I find the Countess Wildenau in _this_ guise--ragged, worn,
+with neither hat nor gloves, wandering about with peasants! It is
+incredible!"
+
+The countess sank into a chair without a word. Her father's large,
+stern features were flushed with a wrath which he could scarcely
+control.
+
+"Have you gone out of fashion so completely that you must seek your
+society in such circles as these, _ma fille_? Could no cavalier be
+found to escort the Countess Wildenau that she must strike up an
+intimacy with one of the comedians in the Passion Play?"
+
+"An intimacy? Papa, this is an insult!" exclaimed the countess angrily,
+for though it was true, she felt that on his lips and in _his_ meaning
+it was such! Again a cock crowed at this unwonted hour.
+
+"Well _ma chere_, when a lady is caught half embraced by such a man,
+the inference is inevitable."
+
+"Dear me, I was so exhausted that I could scarcely stand," replied the
+countess, softly, as if the cocks might hear: "We were caught by the
+storm and the man was obliged to support me. I should think, however,
+that the Countess Wildenau's position was too high for such
+suspicions."
+
+"Well, well, I heard in Munich certain rumors about your long stay here
+which accorded admirably with the romantic personage who has just left
+you. My imaginative daughter always had strange fancies, and as you
+seem able to endure the peasant odor--I am somewhat more sensitive to
+it ..."
+
+"Papa!" cried the countess, frantic with shame. "I beg you not to speak
+in that way of people whom I esteem."
+
+"Aha!" said the prince with a short laugh, "Your anger speaks plainly
+enough. I will make no further allusion to these delicate relations."
+
+The countess remained silent a moment, struggling with her emotions.
+Should she confess all--should she betray the mystery of the "God in
+man?" Reveal it to this frivolous, prosaic man from whose mockery,
+even in her childhood, she had carefully concealed every nobler
+feeling--disclose to him her most sacred possession, the miracle of her
+life? No, it would be desecration. "I _have_ no delicate relations! I
+scarcely know these people--I am interested in this Freyer as the
+representative of the Christ--he is nothing more to me."
+
+The cede crowed for the third time.
+
+"What was that? I am continually hearing cocks crow to-night. Did you
+hear nothing?" asked the countess.
+
+"Not the slightest sound! Have you hallucinations?" asked the prince:
+"The cocks are all asleep at this hour."
+
+She knew it--the sound was but the echo of her own conscience. She
+thought of the words Freyer had uttered that day upon the mountain, and
+his large eyes gazed mournfully, yet forgivingly at her. Now she knew
+why Peter was pardoned! He would not suffer the God in whom he could
+not force men to believe to be profaned--so he concealed Him in his
+heart. He knew that the bond which united him to Christ and the work
+which he was appointed to do for Him was greater than the cheap
+martyrdom of an acknowledgment of Him to the dull ears of a handful of
+men and maid-servants! It was no lie when he said: "I know not the
+man"--for he really did _not_ know the Christ whom _they_ meant. He was
+denying--not _Christ_, but the _criminal_, whom they believed Him to
+be. It was the same with the countess. She was not ashamed of the man
+she loved, only of the person her father saw in him and, as she could
+not explain to the prince what Joseph Freyer was to her, she denied him
+entirely. But even as Peter mourned as a heavy sin the brief moment in
+which he faithlessly separated from his beloved Master, she, too, now
+felt a keen pang, as though a wound was bleeding in her heart, and
+tears streamed from her eyes.
+
+"You are nervous, _ma fille_! It isn't worth while. Tears for the sake
+of that worthy villager?" said the prince, with a contemptuous shrug of
+the shoulders. "Listen, _ma chere_, I believe it would be better for
+you to marry."
+
+"Papa!" exclaimed the countess indignantly.
+
+The prince laughed: "No offence, when women like you begin to be
+sentimental--it is time for them to marry! You were widowed too
+young--it was a misfortune for you."
+
+"A misfortune? May God forgive you the sneer and me the words--it was a
+misfortune that Wildenau lived so long--nay more: that I ever became
+his wife, and you, Papa, ought never to remind me of it."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I might forget that you _are_ my father--as _you_ forget it
+when you sold me to that greybeard?"
+
+"Sold? What an expression, _chere enfant_! Is this the result of your
+study of peasant life here? I congratulate you on the enlargement of
+your vocabulary. This is the gratitude of a daughter for whom the most
+brilliant match in the whole circle of aristocratic families was
+selected."
+
+"And her soul sold in exchange," the countess interrupted; "for that my
+moral nature was not utterly destroyed is no credit of yours."
+
+The prince smiled with an air of calm superiority: "Capital! Moral
+nature destroyed! When a girl is wedded to one of the oldest members of
+the German nobility and made the possession of a yearly income of half
+a million! That is what she calls moral destruction and an outrageous
+deed, of which the inhuman father must not remind his daughter without
+forfeiting his _paternal rights_. It is positively delicious!" He
+laughed and drew out his cigar case: "You see, _ma fille_--I understand
+a jest. Will you be annoyed if I smoke a Havana in this rural
+bed-room?"
+
+"As you please!" replied the countess, who had now regained her former
+cold composure, holding the candle to him. The prince scanned her
+features with the searching gaze of a connoisseur as she thus stood
+before him illumined by the ruddy glow. "You have lost a little of your
+freshness, my child, but you are still beautiful--still charming. I
+admit that Wildenau was rather too old for a poetic nature like
+yours--but there is still time to compensate for it. When were you
+born? A father ought not to ask his daughter's age--but the Almanach de
+Gotha tells the story. You must be now--stop! You were not quite
+seventeen when you married Wildenau--you were married nine years--you
+have been a widow two--that makes you twenty-eight. There is still
+time, but--not much to lose! I am saying this to you in a mother's
+place, my child"--he added, with a repulsive affectation of tenderness.
+His daughter made no reply.
+
+"It is true, you will lose your income if you give up the name of
+Wildenau--as the will reads 'exchange it for another.' This somewhat
+restricts your choice, for you can resign this colossal dower only in
+favor of a match which can partially supply your loss."
+
+The countess turned deadly pale. "That is the curse Wildenau hurled
+upon me from his grave. It was not enough that I was miserable during
+his life, no--I must not be happy even after his death."
+
+"Why--who has told you so? You have your choice among any of the
+handsome and wealthy men who can offer you an equivalent for all that
+you resign. Prince von Metten-Barnheim, for instance! He is a
+visionary, it is true--"
+
+"Prosaic Prince Emil a visionary!" said the countess, laughing
+bitterly.
+
+"Well, I think that a man who surrounds himself so much with plebeian
+society, scholars and authors, might properly be termed a visionary!
+When his father dies, the luckless country will be ruled by loud-voiced
+professors. What does that matter! He'll suit you all the better, as
+you are half a scholar yourself. True, it might be said that the
+Barnheim family is of inferior rank to ours--the Prankenbergs are an
+older race and from the days of Charlemagne have not made a single
+_mesalliance_, while the Barnheim genealogical tree shows several
+gaps--which explains their liberal tendencies. Such things always
+betray themselves. Yet on the other hand, they are reigning dukes, and
+we a decaying race--so it is tolerably equal. You are interested in
+him--so decide at last and marry him, then you will be a happy woman
+and the curse of the will can have no power."
+
+"Indeed?" cried the countess, trembling with excitement. "But suppose
+that I loved another, a poor man, whom I could not wed unless I
+possessed some property of my own, however small, and the will made me
+a _beggar_ the moment I gave him my hand--what then? Should I not have
+a right to hate the jealous despot and the man who sacrificed me to his
+selfish interests--even though he was my own father?" A glance of the
+keenest reproach fell upon the prince.
+
+He was startled by this outburst of passion, hitherto unknown in his
+experience of this apathetic woman. He could make no use of her present
+mood. Biting off a leaf from his cigar, he blew it into the air with a
+graceful movement of the lips. Some change had taken place in
+Madeleine, that was evident! If, after all, she should commit some
+folly--make a love-match? But with whom? Again the scene he had
+witnessed that evening rose before his mind! She had let her head rest
+on the shoulder of a common peasant--that could not be denied, he had
+_seen_ it with his own eyes. Did such a delusion really exist? A woman
+of her temperament was incomprehensible--she would be quite capable, in
+a moment of enthusiasm, of throwing her whole splendid fortune away and
+giving society an unparalleled spectacle. Who could tell what ideas
+such a "lunatic" might take into her head. And yet--who could prevent
+it? No one had any power over her--least of all he himself, who could
+not even threaten her with disinheritance, since it was long since he
+had possessed anything he could call his own. An old gambler,
+perpetually struggling with debt, who had come that day, that very day,
+to--nay, he was reluctant to confess it to himself. And he had already
+irritated his daughter, his last refuge, the only support which still
+kept his head above water, more than was wise or prudent--he dared not
+venture farther.
+
+He had the suppressed brutality of all violent natures which cannot
+have their own way, are not masters of their passions and their
+circumstances, and hence are constantly placed in the false position of
+being compelled to ask the aid of others!
+
+After having busied himself a sufficiently long time with his cigar,
+he said in a soothing and--for so imperious a man--repulsively
+submissive tone: "Well, _ma fille_, there is an expedient for that case
+also. If you loved a man who was too poor to maintain an establishment
+suitable for you--you might do the one thing without forfeiting the
+other--Wildenau's will mentions only _a change of name_: you might
+marry secretly--keep his name and with it his property."
+
+"Papa!" exclaimed the countess--a burning blush crimsoned her cheeks,
+but her eyes were fixed with intense anxiety upon the speaker--"I could
+not expect that from a husband whom I esteemed and loved."
+
+"Why not? If he could offer you no maintenance, he could not ask you to
+sacrifice yours! Surely it would be enough if you gave him yourself."
+
+"If he would accept me under such conditions,"' she answered,
+thoughtfully.
+
+"Aha--we are on the right track!" the prince reflected, watching her
+keenly. "As soon as he perceived that there was no other possibility of
+making you his--certainly! A woman like you can persuade a man to do
+anything. I don't wish to be indiscreet, but, _ma fille_--I fear that
+you have made a choice of which you cannot help being ashamed. Could
+you think of forming such an alliance except in secret. If, that is,
+you _must_ wed? What would the world say when rumor whispered:
+'Countess Wildenau has sunk so low that she'--I dare not utter the
+word, from the fear of offending you."
+
+The countess sat with downcast eyes.
+
+The world--! It suddenly stood before her with its mocking faces.
+Should she expose her sacred love to its derision? Should she force the
+noble simple-mannered man who was the salvation of her soul to play a
+ridiculous part in the eyes of society, as the husband of the Countess
+Wildenau? Her father was right--though from very different motives.
+Could this secret which was too beautiful, too holy, to be confided to
+her own father--endure the contact of the world?
+
+"But how could a secret marriage be arranged?" she asked, with feigned
+indifference.
+
+Prince von Prankenberg was startled by the earnestness of the question.
+Had matters gone so far? Caution was requisite here. Energetic
+opposition could only produce the opposite result, perhaps a public
+scandal. He reflected a moment while apparently toiling to puff rings
+of smoke into the air, as if the world contained no task more
+important. His daughter's eyes rested on him with suspicious keenness.
+At last he seemed to have formed his plan.
+
+"A secret marriage? Why, that is an easy matter for a woman of your
+wealth and independent position! Is the person in question a Catholic?"
+
+Madeleine silently nodded assent.
+
+"Well--then the matter is perfectly simple. Follow the example of
+Manzoni's _promessi sposi_, with whom we are sufficiently tormented
+while studying Italian. Go with your chosen husband to the pastor and
+declare before him, in the presence of two witnesses, who can easily be
+found among your faithful servants, that you take each other in
+marriage. According to the rite of the Catholic church, it is
+sufficient to constitute a valid marriage, if both parties make this
+declaration, even without the marriage ceremonial, in the presence of
+an ordained priest--your ordained priest in this case would be our old
+pastor at Prankenberg. You can play the farce best there. You will thus
+need no papers, no special license, which might betray you, and if you
+manage cleverly you will succeed in persuading the decrepit old man not
+to enter the marriage in the church register. Then let any one come
+and say that you are married! There will be absolutely no proof--and
+when the old pastor dies the matter will go down to the grave with him!
+You will choose witnesses on whom you can depend. What risk can there
+be?"
+
+"Father! But will that be a marriage?" cried the countess in horror.
+
+"Not according to _our_ ideas," said the prince, laconically: "But the
+point is merely that _he_ shall consider himself married, and that _he_
+shall be bound--not you?"
+
+"Father--I will not play such a farce!" She turned away with loathing.
+
+"If you are in earnest--there will be no farce, _ma chere_! It will
+rest entirely with you whether you regard yourself as married or not.
+In the former case you will have the pleasant consciousness of a moral
+act without its troublesome consequences--can go on a journey after the
+pseudo wedding, roam through foreign lands with a reliable maid, and
+then return perhaps with one or two 'adopted' children, whom, as a
+philanthropist, you will educate and no one can discover anything. The
+anonymous husband may be installed by the Countess Wildenau under some
+title on one of her distant estates, and the marriage will be as happy
+as any--only less prosaic! But you will thus spare yourself an endless
+scandal in the eyes of society, keep your pastoral dream, and yet
+remain the wealthy and powerful Countess Wildenau. Is not that more
+sensible than in Heaven knows what rhapsody to sacrifice honor,
+position, wealth, and--your old father?"
+
+"My father?" asked the countess, who had struggled with the most
+contradictory emotions while listening to the words of the prince.
+
+"Why yes"--he busied himself again with his cigar, which he was now
+obliged to exchange for another, "You know, _chere enfant_, the duties
+of our position impose claims upon families of princely rank, which,
+unfortunately, my finances no longer allow me to meet. I--h'm--I find
+myself compelled--unpleasant as it is--to appeal to my daughter's
+kindness--may I use one of these soap dishes as an ash-receiver? So I
+have come to ask whether, for the sake of our ancient name--I expect no
+childish sentimentality--whether you could help me with an additional
+sum of some fifty thousand marks annually, and ninety thousand to
+be paid at once--otherwise nothing is left for me--a light,
+please--_merci_--except to put a bullet through my head!" He paused to
+light the fresh cigar. The countess clasped her hands in terror.
+
+"Good Heavens, Papa! Are the sums Wildenau gave you already exhausted?"
+
+"What do you mean--can a Prince Prankenberg live on an income of fifty
+thousand marks? If I had not been so economical, and we did not live in
+the quiet German style, I could not have managed to make such a trifle
+hold out so _long_!"
+
+"A trifle! Then I was sold so cheaply?" cried Madeleine Wildenau with
+passionate emotion. "I have not even, in return for my wasted life, the
+consciousness of having saved my father? Yes, yes, if this is true--I
+am no longer free to choose! I shall remain to the end of my days the
+slave of my dead husband, and must steal the happiness for which
+I long like forbidden fruit. You have chosen the moment for this
+communication well--it must be true! You have destroyed the first
+blossom of my life, and now, when it would fain put forth one last bud,
+you blight that, too."
+
+The prince rose. "I regret having caused you any embarrassment by my
+affairs. As I said, you are your own mistress. If I did not put a
+bullet through my head long ago, it was purely out of consideration for
+you, that the world might not say: 'Prince von Prankenberg shot himself
+on account of financial embarrassment because his wealthy daughter
+would not aid him!' I wished to save you this scandal--that is why I
+gave you the choice of helping me if you preferred to do so."
+
+The countess shuddered. "You know that such threats are not needed! If
+I wept, it was not for the sake of the paltry money, but all the
+unfortunate circumstances. How can I ever be happy, even in a secret
+marriage, if I am constantly compelled to dread discovery for my
+father's sake? If it were for a father impoverished by misfortune,
+the tears shed for my sacrifice of happiness would be worthy of
+execration--but, Papa, to be compelled to sacrifice the holiest feeling
+that ever thrilled a human heart for gambling, race-courses, and the
+women of doubtful reputation who consume your property--that is hard
+indeed!"
+
+"Spare your words, _ma fille_, I am not disposed to purchase your help
+at the cost of a lecture. Either you will relieve me from my
+embarrassments without reproaches, or you will be the daughter of a
+suicide--what is the use of all this philosophizing? A lofty unsullied
+name is a costly article! Make your choice. _I_ for my own part set
+little value on life. I am old, a victim to the gout, have grown too
+stiff to ride or enjoy sport of any kind, have lost my luck with
+women--there is nothing left but gambling. If I must give that
+up, too, then _rogue la galere_! In such a case, there are but two
+paths--_corriger la fortune_--or die. But a Prankenberg would rather
+die &an to take the former."
+
+"Father! What are you saying! Alas, that matters have gone so far! Woe
+betide a society that dismisses an old man from its round of pleasures
+so bankrupt in every object, every dignity, that no alternative remains
+save suicide or cheating at the gaming-table--unless he happens, by
+chance, to have a wealthy daughter!"
+
+"My beloved child!" said the prince, who now found it advisable to
+adopt a tone of pathos.
+
+"Pray, say no more, Father. You have never troubled yourself about your
+daughter, have never been a father to me--if you had, you would not now
+stand before me so miserable, so poor in happiness. This is past
+change. Alas, that I cannot love and respect my father as I ought--that
+I cannot do what I am about to do more gladly. Yet I am none the less
+ready to fulfill my duties towards you. So far as lies in my power, I
+will afford you the possibility of continuing your pitiful life of
+shams, and leave it to your discretion how far you draw upon my income.
+It is fortunate that you came in time--in a few days it might have been
+too late. I see now that I must not give up my large income so long as
+my father needs the money. My dreams of a late, but pure happiness are
+shattered! You will understand that one needs time to recover from such
+a blow and pardon my painful excitement."
+
+She rose, with pallid face and trembling limbs: "I will place the
+papers necessary to raise the money in your hands early to-morrow
+morning, and you will forget this painful scene sooner than I."
+
+"You have paid me few compliments--but I shall bear no malice--you are
+nervous to-day, my fair daughter. And even if you do not bestow your
+aid in the most generous way, nevertheless you help me. Let me kiss
+your liberal hand! Ah, it is exactly like your mother's. When I think
+that those slender, delicate fingers have been laid in the coarse fist
+of Heaven knows what plebeian, I think great credit is due me--"
+
+"Do not go on!" interrupted the countess, imperiously. "I think I have
+done my duty, Papa--but the measure is full, and I earnestly entreat
+you to let me rest to-day."
+
+"It is the fate of fathers to let their daughters rule them," replied
+the prince in a jesting tone. "Well, it is better to be ill-treated by
+a daughter than by a sweetheart. You see I, too, have some moral
+impulses, since I have been in your strict society. May the father whom
+you judge so harshly be permitted to kiss your forehead?"
+
+The countess silently submitted--but a shudder ran through her frame as
+if the touch had defiled her. She felt that it was the Judas kiss of
+the world, not the caress of a father.
+
+The prince wiped his mouth with a sensation of secret disgust. "Who
+knows what lips have touched that brow today?" He dared not think of
+it, or it would make him ill.
+
+"_Ma chere_, however deeply I am indebted to you, I must assert my
+paternal rights a few minutes. You have said so many bitter things,
+whose justice I will not deny, that you will permit me to utter a few
+truthful words also." Fixing his eyes upon her with a stern, cold gaze,
+he said in a low tone, placing a marked emphasis on every word: "We
+have carried matters very far--you and I--the last of the ancient
+Prankenberg race! A pretty pair! the father a bankrupt, and the
+daughter--on the eve of marrying a peasant."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau, deadly pale, stood leaning with compressed lips
+on the back of her armchair.
+
+The prince laid his hand on her shoulder. "We may both say that to-day
+_each_ has saved the _other_! This is my reparation for the humiliating
+role fate has forced upon me in your presence. Am I not right?
+Good-night, my queenly daughter--and I hope you bear me no ill-will."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+
+                               PRISONED.
+
+
+The prince had left the room, and she heard him walk through the
+work-shop. Silence fell upon the house and the street. The tortured
+woman, utterly exhausted, sank upon her bed--her feet would support her
+no longer. But she could get no rest; an indescribable grief filled her
+heart. Everything had happened precisely as Freyer had predicted.
+Before the cock crowed, she had thrice betrayed him, betrayed him in
+the very hour when she had sworn fidelity. At the first step she was to
+take on the road of life with the man she loved, at the first glance
+from the basilisk eyes of conventional prejudice, she shrank back like
+a coward and could not make up her mind to acknowledge him. This was
+her purification, this the effect of a feeling which, as she believed,
+had power to conquer the world? Everything was false--she despaired of
+all things--of her future, of herself, of the power of Christianity,
+which she, like all new converts, expected would have the might to
+transform sinners into saints in a single moment. One thing alone
+remained unchanged, _one_ image only was untouched by any tinge of
+baseness amid the turmoil of emotions seething in her heart--Freyer. He
+alone could save her--she must go to him. Springing from her bed she
+hurried into the work-shop. "Where is your son?" she asked Andreas
+Gross, who was just preparing to retire.
+
+"I suppose he is in his room, Countess."
+
+"Bring him to me at once."
+
+"Certainly, Countess."
+
+"Shall I undress Your Highness?" asked Josepha, who was still waiting
+for her orders.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau's eyes rested on the girl with a searching
+expression, as if she saw her now for the first time. Was she
+faithful--as faithful as a maid must be to make it possible to carry
+out the plan her father had suggested? Josepha gazed steadily into the
+countess' eyes, her frank face expressed nothing but innocent wonder
+at so long a scrutiny. "Yes--you are faithful," said the countess at
+last--"are you not?"
+
+"Certainly, Countess," replied the girl, evidently surprised that she
+needed to give the assurance.
+
+"You know what unhappiness means?"
+
+"I think so!" said Josepha, with bitter emphasis.
+
+"Then you would aid the unhappy so far as you were able?"
+
+"It would depend upon who it was," answered Josepha, brusquely, but the
+rudeness pleased the countess; it was a proof of character, and
+character is a guarantee of trustworthiness. "If it were I, Josepha,
+could I depend upon you in _any_ situation?"
+
+"Certainly!" the girl answered simply--"I live only for you--otherwise
+I would far rather be under the sod. What have I to live for except
+you?"
+
+"I believe, Josepha, that I now know the reason Providence sent me to
+you!" murmured her mistress, lost in thought.
+
+Ludwig Gross entered. "Did you wish to see me?"
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau silently took his hand and drew him into her
+room.
+
+"Oh, Ludwig, what things I have been compelled to hear--what sins I
+have committed--what suffering I have endured!" She laid her arm on the
+shoulder of the faithful friend, like a child pleading for aid. "What
+time is it, Ludwig?"
+
+"I don't know," he replied. "I was asleep when my father called me. I
+wandered about looking for you and Freyer until about an hour ago. Then
+weariness overpowered me." He drew out his watch. "It is half past
+ten."
+
+"Take me to Freyer, Ludwig. I must see him this very day. Oh, my
+friend! let me wash myself clean in your soul, for I feel as if the
+turbid surges of the world had soiled me with their mire."
+
+Ludwig Gross passed his arm lightly about her shoulders as if to
+protect her from the unclean element. "Come," he said soothingly, "I
+will take you to Freyer. Or would you prefer to have me bring him
+here?"
+
+"No, he would not come now. I must go to him, for I have done something
+for which I must atone--there can be no delay."
+
+Ludwig hurriedly wrapped her in a warm shawl. "You will be ill from
+this continual excitement," he said anxiously, but without trying to
+dissuade her. "Take my arm, you are tottering."
+
+They left the house before the eyes of the astonished Gross family.
+"She is a very singular woman," said Sephi, shaking her head. "She
+gives herself no rest night or day."
+
+It was only five days since the evening that Madeleine von Wildenau had
+walked, as now, through the sleeping village, and how much she had
+experienced.
+
+She had found the God whom she was seeking--she had gazed into his
+eyes, she had recognized divine, eternal love, and had perceived that
+she was not worthy of it. So she moved proudly, yet humbly on, leaning
+upon the arm of her friend, to the street where a thrill of reverence
+had stirred her whole being when Andreas Gross said, "That is the way
+to the dwelling of the Christ."
+
+The house stood across the end of the street. This time no moonbeams
+lighted the way. The damp branches of the trees rustled mournfully
+above them in the darkness. Only a single window on the ground floor of
+Freyer's house was lighted, and the wavering rays marked the way for
+the pair. They reached it and looked in. Freyer was sitting on a wooden
+stool by the table, his head resting on his hand, absorbed in sorrowful
+thought. A book lay before him, which he had perhaps intended to read,
+but evidently had not done so, for he was gazing wearily into vacancy.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau stepped softly in through the unfastened door.
+Ludwig Gross waited for her outside. As she opened the door of the room
+Freyer looked up in astonishment "You?" he said, and his eyes rested
+full upon her with a questioning gaze--but he rose with dignity,
+instead of rushing to meet her, as he would formerly have greeted the
+woman he loved, had she suddenly appeared before him.
+
+"Countess--what does this visit mean--at this hour?" he asked,
+mournfully, offering her a chair. "Did you come alone?"
+
+"Ludwig brought me and is waiting outside for me--I have only a few
+words to say."
+
+"But it will not do to leave our friend standing outside. You will
+allow me to call him in?"
+
+"Do so, you will then have the satisfaction of having a witness of my
+humiliation," said the countess, quietly.
+
+"Pardon me, I did not think of that interpretation!" murmured Freyer,
+seating himself.
+
+"May I ask your Highness' commands?"
+
+"Joseph--to whom are you speaking?"
+
+"To the Countess Wildenau!"
+
+She knelt beside him: "Joseph! Am I _still_ the Countess Wildenau?"
+
+"Your Highness, pray spare me!" he exclaimed, starting up. "All this
+can alter nothing. You remain--what you are, and I--what I am! This was
+deeply graven on my heart to-night, and nothing can efface it." He
+spoke with neither anger nor reproach--simply like a man who has lost
+what was dearest to him on earth.
+
+"If that is true, I can certainly do nothing except go again!" she
+replied, turning toward the door. "But answer for it to God for having
+thrust me forth unheard."
+
+"Nay, Countess, pray, speak!" said Freyer, kindly. She looked
+at him so beseechingly that his heart melted with unutterable pain.
+"Come--and--tell me what weighs upon your heart!" he added in a gentler
+tone.
+
+"Not until you again call me your dove--or your child."
+
+Tears filled his eyes, "My child--what have you done!"
+
+"That is right--I can speak now! What have I done, Joseph? What you
+saw; and still worse. I not only treated you coldly and distantly in my
+father's presence, I afterwards disowned you three times--and I come to
+tell you so because you alone can and--I know--will forgive me."
+
+Freyer had clasped his hands upon his knee and was gazing into vacancy.
+Madeleine continued: "You see, I have so lofty an opinion of you, and
+of your love, that I do not try to justify myself. I will only remind
+you of the words you yourself said to-day: 'May you never be forced to
+weep the tears which Peter shed when the cock crowed for the third
+time.' I will recall what must have induced Christ to forgive Peter:
+'He knew the disciple's heart!' Joseph--do you not also know the heart
+of your Magdalena?"
+
+A tremor ran through the strong man's frame and, unable to utter a
+word, he threw his arm around her and his head drooped on her breast.
+
+"Joseph, you are ignorant of the world, and the bonds with which it
+fetters even the freest souls. Therefore you must _believe_ in me! It
+will often happen that I shall be forced to do something
+incomprehensible to you. If you did not then have implicit faith in me,
+we could never live happily together. This very day I had resolved to
+break with society, strip off all its chains. But no matter how many
+false and culpable ideas it has--its principles, nevertheless, rest
+upon a foundation of morality. That is why it can impose its fetters
+upon the very persons who have nothing in common with its _immoral_
+side. Nay, were it merely an _immoral_ power it would be easy, in a
+moment of pious enthusiasm, to shake off its thrall--but when we are
+just on the eve of doing so, when we believe ourselves actually free,
+it throws around our feet the snare of a _duty_ and we are prisoned
+anew. Such was my experience to-day with my father! I should have been
+compelled to sunder every tie, had I told him the truth! I was too weak
+to provoke the terrible catastrophe--and deferred it, by disowning
+you."
+
+Freyer quivered with pain.
+
+She stroked his clenched hand caressingly. "I know what this must be. I
+know how the proud man must rebel when the woman he loved did _that_.
+But I also expect my angel to know what it cost me!"
+
+She gently tried to loose his clenched fingers, which gradually yielded
+till the open hand lay soft and unresisting in her own. "Look at me,"
+she continued in her sweet, melting tones: "look at my pallid face, my
+eyes reddened with weeping--and then answer whether I have suffered
+during these hours?"
+
+"I do see it!" said Freyer, gently.
+
+"Dear husband! I come to you with my great need, with my great
+love--and my great guilt. Will you thrust me from you?"
+
+He could hold out no longer, but with loving generosity clasped the
+pleading woman to his heart.
+
+"I knew it, you are the embodiment of goodness, gentleness--love! You
+will have patience with your weak, sinful wife--you will ennoble and
+sanctify her, and not despair if it is a long time ere the work is
+completed. You promise, do you not?" she murmured fervently amid her
+kisses, breathing into his inmost life the ardent pleading of her
+remorse.
+
+And, with a solemn vow, he promised never to be angry with her again,
+never to desert her until she _herself_ sent him away.
+
+She had conquered--he trusted her once more. And now--she must profit
+by this childlike confidence.
+
+"I thank you!" she said, after a long silence. "Now I shall have
+courage to ask you a serious question. But let us send home the friend
+who is waiting outside, you can take me back yourself."
+
+"Certainly, my child," said Freyer, smiling, and went out to seek
+Ludwig. "He was satisfied," he said returning. "Now speak--and tell me
+everything that weighs upon your heart--no one can hear us save God."
+And he drew her into a loving embrace.
+
+"Joseph," the countess began in an embarrassed tone. "The decisive hour
+has come sooner than I expected and I am compelled to ask, 'Will you be
+my husband--but only before God, not men.'"
+
+Freyer drew back a step. "What do you mean?"
+
+"Will you listen to me quietly, dearest?" she asked, gently.
+
+"Speak, my child."
+
+"Joseph! I promised to-day to become your wife--and I will keep the
+pledge, but our marriage must be a secret one."
+
+"And why?"
+
+"My husband's will disinherits me, as soon as I give up the name of
+Wildenau. If I marry you, I shall be dependent upon the generosity of
+my husband's cousins, who succeed me as his heirs, and they are not
+even obliged to give me an annuity--so I shall be little better than a
+beggar."
+
+"Oh, is that all? What does it matter? Am I not able to support my
+wife--that is, if she can be satisfied with the modest livelihood a
+poor wood-carver like myself can offer?"
+
+The countess, deeply touched, smiled. "I knew that you would say so.
+But, my angel, that would only do, if I had no other duties. But, you
+see, this is one of the snares with which the world draws back those
+who endeavor to escape its spell. I have a father--an unhappy man whom
+I can neither respect nor love--a type of the brilliant misery, the
+hollow shams, to which so many lives in our circle fall victims, a
+gambler, a spendthrift, but still _my father_! He asks pecuniary aid
+which I can render only if I remain the Countess Wildenau. Dare I be
+happy and let my father go to ruin?"
+
+"No!" groaned Freyer, whose head sank like a felled tree on the arms
+which rested folded on the table.
+
+"Then what is left to us--my beloved, save _separation_ or a secret
+marriage? Surely we would not profane the miracle which God has wrought
+in us by any other course?"
+
+"No--never!"
+
+"Well--then I must say to you: 'choose!'"
+
+"Oh, Heaven! this is terrible. I must not be allowed to assert my
+sacred rights before men--must live like a dishonored man under ban?
+And _where_ and _when_ could we meet?"
+
+"Joseph--I can offer you the position of steward of my estates, which
+will enable us to live together constantly and meet without the least
+restraint. I can recompense you a hundredfold, for what you resign
+here, my property shall be yours, as well as all that I am and
+have--you shall miss nothing save outward appearances, the triumph of
+appearing before the world as the husband of the Countess Wildenau."
+
+"Oh! God, Thou art my witness that no such thought ever entered my
+heart. If you were poor and miserable, starving by the wayside, I would
+raise you and bear you proudly in my arms into my house. If you were
+blind and lame, ill and deserted, I would watch and cherish you day and
+night--nay, it would be my delight to work for you and earn, by my own
+industry, the bread you eat. When I brought it, I would offer it on my
+knees and kiss your dear hands for accepting it. But your servant, your
+hireling, I cannot be! Tell me yourself--could you still love me if I
+were?"
+
+"Yes, for my love is eternal!"
+
+"Do not deceive yourself; you have loved me as a poor, but _free_
+citizen of Ammergau--as your paid servant you would despise me."
+
+"You shall not be my servant--it is merely necessary to find some
+pretext before the world which will render it possible for us to be
+constantly together without exciting suspicion--and the office of a
+steward is this pretext!"
+
+"Twist and turn it as you will--I shall eat your bread, and be your
+subordinate. Oh, Heaven, I was so proud and am now so terribly
+humiliated--so suddenly hurled from the height to which you had raised
+me!"
+
+"It will be no humiliation to accept what my love bestows and my
+superabundance shares with you."
+
+"It _is_, and I could be your husband only on the condition that I
+might continue to work and earn my own support."
+
+"Oh! the envious arrogance of the poor, who grudge the rich the noblest
+privilege--that of doing good. Believe me, true pride would be to say
+to yourself that your noble nature a thousand times outweighed the
+petty sacrifice of worldly goods which I could make for you. He who
+scorns money can accept it from others because he knows that the
+outward gift is valueless, compared with the treasures of happiness
+love can offer. Or do you feel so poor in love that you could not pay
+me the trivial debt for the bit of bread I furnished? Then indeed--let
+me with my wealth languish in my dearth of happiness and boast that you
+sacrificed to your pride the most faithful of women--but do not say
+that you loved the woman!"
+
+"My dove!"
+
+"I am doing what I can!" she continued, mournfully, "I am offering you
+myself, my soul, my freedom, my future--and you are considering whether
+it will not degrade you to eat my bread and be apparently my servant,
+while in reality you are my master and my judge.--I have nothing more
+to say, you shall have your will, but decide quickly, for what is to be
+done must be done at once. My father himself (when he perceived that I
+really intended to marry) advised me to be wedded by our old pastor at
+Prankenberg. But I know my father, and am aware that he was only luring
+me into a trap. He will receive from me to-morrow a power of attorney
+to raise some money he needs--the day after he will invent some new
+device to keep me in his power. We must take the pastor at Prankenberg
+by surprise before he can prevent it. Now decide!"
+
+"Omnipotent God!" exclaimed Freyer. "What shall I, what must I do? Oh!
+my love, I ought not to desert you--and even if I ought--I _could_ not,
+for I could no longer live without you! You know that I must take what
+you offer, and that my fate will be what you assign! But, dearest, how
+I shall endure to be your husband and yet regarded as your servant, I
+know not. If you could let this cup pass from me, it would be far
+better for us both."
+
+"And did God spare the Saviour the cup? Was Christ too proud to take
+upon Him His cross and His ignominy, while you--cannot even bear the
+yoke your wife imposes, is _forced_ to impose?"
+
+He bowed his head to the earth. Tears sparkled in his radiant eyes, he
+was once more the Christ. As his dark eyes rested upon her in the dim
+light diffused by the lamp, with all the anguish of the Crucified
+Redeemer, Madeleine von Wildenau again felt a thrill of awe in the
+presence of something supernatural--a creature belonging to some middle
+realm, half spirit, half mortal--and the perception that he could never
+belong wholly to the earth, never wholly to _her_. She could not
+explain this feeling, he was so kind, so self-sacrificing. Had she had
+any idea that such a man was destined to absorb _us_, not we _him_, the
+mystery would have been solved. What she was doing was precisely the
+reverse. His existence must be sacrificed to hers--and she had a vague
+suspicion that this was contrary to the laws of his noble, privileged
+nature.
+
+But he, unconscious of himself, in his modest simplicity, only knew
+that he must love the countess to the end--and deemed it only just that
+he should purchase the measureless happiness of calling this woman his
+by an equally boundless sacrifice. The appeal to Christ had suddenly
+made him believe that God proposed to give him the opportunity to
+continue in life the part of a martyr which he was no longer permitted
+to play on the stage. The terrible humiliation imposed by the woman
+whom he loved was to be the cross received in exchange for the one he
+had resigned.
+
+"Very well, then, for the sake of Christ's humility!" he said, sadly,
+as if utterly crushed. "Give me whatever position you choose, but I
+fear you will discover too late that you have robbed yourself of the
+_best_ love I have to bestow. Your nature is not one which can love a
+vassal. You will be like the children who tear off the butterfly's
+wings and then--throw aside the crawling worm with loathing. My wings
+were my moral freedom and my self-respect. At this moment I have lost
+them, for I am only a weak, love-sick man who must do whatever an
+irresistible woman requires. It is no free moral act, as is usual when
+a man exchanges an equal existence with his chosen wife.
+
+"If you think _that_, Joseph," said the countess, turning pale, "it
+will certainly be better--for me to leave you." She turned with dignity
+toward the door.
+
+"Yes, go!" he cried in wild anguish--"go! Yet you know that you will
+take me with you, like the crown of thorns you dragged caught in the
+hem of your dress!" He threw himself on his knees at her feet. "What am
+I? Your slave. In Heaven's name, be my mistress and take me. I place my
+soul in your keeping--I trust it to your generosity--but woe betide us
+both, if you do not give me yours in return. I ask nothing save your
+soul--but that I want wholly."
+
+The exultant woman clasped him in a passionate embrace: "Yes, give
+yourself a prisoner to me, and trust your fate to my hands. I will be a
+gentle mistress to you--you, beloved slave, you shall not be _more_
+mine than I am yours--that is, _wholly_ and _forever_."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVII.
+
+                         FLYING FROM THE CROSS.
+
+
+The burgomaster went to the office every morning at six o'clock, for
+the work to be accomplished during the day was very great and required
+an early beginning. Freyer usually arrived about seven to share the
+task with him. On Fridays, however, he often commenced his labor before
+the energetic burgomaster. It was on that day that the rush upon the
+ticket office began, and every one's hands were filled.
+
+But to-day Freyer seemed to be in no hurry. It was after seven--he
+ought to have arrived long before. He had been absent yesterday, too.
+The stranger must have taken complete possession of him. The
+burgomaster shook his head--Freyer's conduct since the countess'
+arrival, had not pleased him. He had never neglected his duties
+to the community. And at the very time when the Passion Play had
+attained unprecedented success. How could any one think of anything
+else--anything _personal_, especially the man who took the part of the
+Christ! There were heaps of orders lying piled before him, how could
+they be disposed of, if Freyer did not help.
+
+This countess was a beautiful woman--and probably a fascinating one.
+But to the burgomaster there was but _one_ beauty--that of the angel of
+his home. High above the turmoil of the crowd, in quiet, aristocratic
+seclusion, the lonely man sat at his desk in his bare, plain office.
+But the angel of Ammergau visited him here; he leaned his weary head
+upon His breast, _His_ kiss rewarded his unselfish labor, _His_
+radiance illumined the unassuming citizen. No house was so poor and
+insignificant that at this season the angel of Ammergau did not take up
+His abode within and shed upon it His own sanctity and dignity. But to
+him who was the personification of Ammergau, the man who was obliged to
+care for everything--watch over everything--bear the responsibility
+of everything, to him the angel brought the reward which men cannot
+give--the proud consciousness of what he was to his home in these
+toilsome days. But it was quite time that Freyer should come! The
+burgomaster rang his bell. The bailiff entered.
+
+"Kleinhofer, see where Herr Freyer is--or the drawing-master. _One_ of
+them can surely be found."
+
+"Yes, Herr Burgomaster." The man left the room.
+
+The burgomaster leaned back in his chair to wait. His eyes rested a few
+seconds on one of Dore's pictures, Christ condemned by Pontius Pilate.
+He involuntarily compared the engraving with the grouping on the stage.
+"Ah, if we could do that! If living beings, with massive bones and
+clumsy joints, would be as pliable as canvas and brushes!" he thought,
+sorrowfully. "Wherever human beings are employed there must be defects
+and imperfections. Perfection, absolute beauty, exist only in the
+imagination! Yet ought not an inflexible stage manager, by following
+the lines of the work of art, to succeed in shaping even the rudest
+material into the artistic idea."
+
+"Much--much remains to be done," said the singular stage manager in
+pitiless self-criticism, resting his head on his hand. "When one thinks
+of what the Meininger company accomplishes! But of course they work
+with _artists_--I with natural talent! Then we are restricted in
+alloting the parts by dilettante traditional models--and, worst of all,
+by antiquated statutes and prejudices." The vision of Josepha Freyer
+rose before him, he keenly felt the blow inflicted on the Passion Play
+when the beautiful girl, the very type of Mary Magdalene, was excluded.
+"The whole must suffer under such circumstances! The actors cannot be
+chosen according to talent and individuality; these things are a
+secondary consideration. The first is the person's standing in the
+community! A poor servant would be allowed to play only an inferior
+part, even if he possessed the greatest talent, and the principal ones
+are the monopoly of the influential citizens. From a contingent thus
+arbitrarily limited the manager is compelled to distribute the
+characters for the great work, which demands the highest powers. It is
+a gigantic labor, but it will be accomplished, nothing is needed save
+patience and an iron will! They will grow with their task. The
+increasing success of the Passion Play will teach them to understand
+how important it is that artistic interests should supersede all
+others. Then golden hours will first dawn on Ammergau. May God permit
+me to witness it!" he added. And he confidently hoped to do so; for
+there was no lack of talent, and with a few additions great results
+might be accomplished. This year the success of the Play was secured by
+Freyer, who made the audience forget all less skilful performers. With
+him the Passion Play of the present year would stand or fall. The
+burgomaster's eyes rested with a look of compassion upon the Christ of
+Dore and the Christ personated by Freyer, as it hovered before his
+memory--and Freyer bore the test. He had come from the hand of his
+Creator a living work of art, perfect in every detail. "Thank Heaven
+that we have him!" murmured the burgomaster, with a nod of
+satisfaction.
+
+Some one knocked at the door. "At last," said the burgomaster: "Come
+in!"
+
+It was not the person whom he expected, but Ludwig Gross!
+
+He tottered forward as if his feet refused to obey his will. His grave
+face was waxen-yellow in its hue and deeply lined--his lips were
+tightly compressed--drops of perspiration glittered on his brow.
+
+The burgomaster glanced at him in alarm: "What is it? What has
+happened?"
+
+Ludwig Gross drew a letter from his pocket, "Be prepared for bad news."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, cannot the performance take place? We have sold
+more than a thousand tickets."
+
+"That would be the least difficulty. Be strong, Herr Burgomaster--I
+have a great misfortune to announce."
+
+"Has it anything to do with Freyer?" exclaimed the magistrate, with
+sudden foreboding.
+
+"Freyer has gone--with Countess Wildenau!"
+
+"Run away?" cried the burgomaster, inexorably giving the act the right
+name.
+
+"Yes, I have just found these lines on his table."
+
+The burgomaster turned pale as if he had received a mortal wound. A
+peal of thunder seemed to echo in his ears--the thunder which had
+shattered the temple of Jerusalem, whose priest he was! The walls fell,
+the veil was rent and revealed the place of execution. Golgotha lay
+before him. He heard the rustling wings of the departing guardian angel
+of Ammergau. High above, in terrible solitude, towered the cross, but
+it was empty--he who should hang upon it--had vanished! Grey clouds
+gathered around the desolate scene.
+
+But from the empty cross issued a light--not a halo, but like the
+livid, phosphorescent glimmer of rotten wood! It shone into a chasm
+where, from a jutting rock, towered a single tree, upon which hung,
+faithful to his task--Judas!
+
+A peal of jeering laughter rose from the depths. "You have killed
+yourself in vain. Your victim has escaped. See the conscientious Judas,
+who hung himself, while the other is having a life of pleasure!"
+
+Shame and disgrace! "The Christ has fled from the cross." Malicious
+voices echo far and wide, cynicism exults--baseness has conquered, the
+divine has become a laughing-stock for children--the Passion Play a
+travesty.
+
+The phosphorescent wood of the cross glimmered before the burgomaster's
+eyes. Aye, it was rotten and mouldering--this cross--it must
+crumble--the corruption of the world had infected and undermined it,
+and this had happened in Oberammergau--under _his_ management.
+
+The unfortunate man, through whose brain this chain of thoughts was
+whirling, sat like a stone statue before his friend, who stood waiting
+modestly, without disturbing his grief by a single word.
+
+What the two men felt--each knew--was too great for utterance.
+
+The burgomaster was mechanically holding Freyer's letter in his
+clenched hand. Now his cold, stiff fingers reminded him of it. He laid
+it on the table, his eyes resting dully on the large childish
+characters of the unformed hand: "Forgive me!" ran the brief contents.
+"I am no longer worthy to personate the Saviour! Not from lack of
+principle, but on account of it do I resign my part. Ere you read these
+lines, I shall be far away from here! God will not make His sacred
+cause depend upon any individual--He will supply my place to you!
+Forget me, and forgive the renegade whose heart will be faithful to you
+unto death!                                     Freyer!"
+
+Postscript:
+
+"Sell my property--the house, the field, and patch of woods which was
+not burned and divide the proceeds among the poor of Ammergau. I will
+send you the legal authority from the nearest city.
+
+"Once more, farewell to all!"
+
+The burgomaster sat motionless, gazing at the sheet. He could have read
+it ten times over--yet he still stared at the lines.
+
+Ludwig Gross saw with terror that his eyes were glassy, his features
+changed. The calmness imposed by the iron will had become the rigidity
+of death. The drawing-master shook him--now, in the altered position,
+the inert body lost its balance and fell against the back of the chair.
+His friend caught the tottering figure and supported the noble head. It
+was possible for him to reach the bell with his other hand and summon
+Kleinhofer. "The doctor--quick--tell him to come at once!" he shouted.
+The man hurried off in terror.
+
+The news that the burgomaster had been stricken with apoplexy ran
+through the village like wild fire. Every one rushed to the office. The
+physician ran bare-headed across the street. The confusion was
+boundless.
+
+Ludwig could scarcely control the tumult. Supporting the burgomaster
+with one arm, he pushed the throng back with the other. The doctor
+could scarcely force his way through the crowded room. He rubbed the
+temples and arteries of the senseless man. "I don't think it is
+apoplexy, only a severe congestion of the brain," he said, "but we
+cannot tell what the result may be. He has long been overworked and
+over-excited."
+
+The remedies applied began to act, the burgomaster opened his eyes. But
+as if he were surrounded by invisible fiends which, like wild beasts,
+were only held in check by the firm gaze of the tamer and, ever ready
+to spring, were only watching for the moment when they might wrest from
+him the sacred treasure confided to his care--his dim eyes in a few
+seconds regained the steady flash of the watchful, imperious master.
+And the discipline which his unyielding will was wont to exert over his
+limbs instantly restored his erect bearing. No one save the physician
+and Ludwig knew what the effort cost him.
+
+"Yes," said the doctor in a low tone to the drawing-master: "This is
+the consequence of his never granting himself any rest during these
+terrible exertions."
+
+The burgomaster had gone to the window and obtained a little air. Then
+he turned to the by-standers. His voice still trembled slightly, but
+otherwise not the slightest weakness was perceptible, and nothing
+betrayed the least emotion.
+
+"I am glad, my friends, that we are all assembled--otherwise I should
+have been compelled to summon you. Is the whole parish here? We must
+hold a consultation at once. Kleinhofer, count them."
+
+The man obeyed.
+
+"They are all here," he said.
+
+At that moment the burgomaster's wife rushed in with Anastasia. They
+had been in the fields and had just learned the startling news of the
+illness of the husband and brother.
+
+"Pray be calm!" he said, sternly. "There is nothing wrong with
+me--nothing worth mentioning."
+
+The weeping women were surrounded by their friends but the burgomaster,
+with an imperious wave of the hand, motioned them to the back of the
+room. "If you wish to listen--and it is my desire that you should--keep
+quiet. We have not a moment to lose." He turned to the men of the
+parish.
+
+"Dear friends and companions! I have tidings which I should never have
+expected a native of Ammergau would be compelled to relate of a fellow
+citizen. A great misfortune has befallen us. We no longer have a
+Christ! Freyer has suddenly gone away."
+
+A cry of horror and indignation answered him. A medley of shouts and
+questions followed, mingled with fierce imprecations.
+
+"Be calm, friends. Do not revile him. We do not know what has occurred.
+True, I cannot understand how such a thing was possible--but we must
+not judge where we know no particulars. At any rate we will respect
+ourselves by speaking no evil of one of our fellow citizens--for that he
+was, in spite of his act."
+
+Ludwig secretly pressed his hand in token of gratitude.
+
+"This misfortune is sent by God"--the burgomaster continued--"we will
+not judge the poor mortal who was merely His tool. Regard him as one
+dead, as he seems to regard himself. He has bequeathed his property to
+our poor--we will thank him for that, as is right--in other respects he
+is dead to us."
+
+The burgomaster took the letter from the table. "Here is his last will
+for Ammergau, I will read it to you." The burgomaster calmly read the
+paper, but it seemed as if his voice, usually so firm, trembled.
+
+When he had finished, deep silence reigned. Many were wiping their
+eyes, others gazed sullenly into vacancy--a solemn hush, like that
+which prevails at a funeral, had taken possession of the assembly. "We
+cannot tell," the burgomaster repeated: "Peace to his ashes--for the
+fire which will be so destructive to us is still blazing in him. We can
+but say, may God forgive him, and let these be the last words uttered
+concerning him."
+
+"May God forgive him!" murmured the sorely stricken assemblage.
+
+"Amen!" replied the burgomaster. "And now, my friends, let us consult
+what is to be done. We cannot deceive ourselves concerning our
+situation. It is critical, nay hopeless. The first thing we must try to
+save is our honor. When it becomes known that one of our number, and
+that one the Christ--has deserted his colors, or rather the cross, we
+shall be disgraced and our sacred cause must suffer. _Our_ honor here
+is synonymous with the honor of God, and if we do not guard it for
+ourselves we must for His sake."
+
+A murmur of assent answered him. He continued: "Therefore we must make
+every effort to keep the matter secret. We can say that Freyer had
+suddenly succumbed to the exertion imposed by his part, and to save his
+life had been obliged to seek a warmer climate! Those who _know_ us men
+of Ammergau will not believe that any one would retire on account of
+his health, nay would prefer death rather than to interrupt the
+performances--but there are few who do know us."
+
+"God knows that!" said the listeners, mournfully.
+
+"Therefore I propose that we all promise to maintain the most absolute
+secrecy in regard to the real state of affairs and give the pretext
+just suggested to the public."
+
+"Yes, yes--we will agree not to say anything else," the men readily
+assented. "But the women--they will chatter," said Andreas Gross.
+
+"That is just what I fear. I can rely upon you men," replied the
+burgomaster, casting a stern glance at the girls and women. "The men
+are fully aware of the meaning and importance of our cause. It is bad
+enough that so many are not understood and supported by their wives!
+You--the women of Ammergau--alas that I must say it--you have done the
+place and the cause more harm by your gossip than you can answer for to
+the God who honors us with His holy mission. There is chattering and
+tattling where you think you can do so unpunished, and many things are
+whispered into the ears of the visitors which afterwards goes as false
+rumors through the world! You care nothing for the great cause, if you
+get an opportunity to gratify some bit of petty malice. Now you are
+weeping, are you not? Because we are ruined--the performances must
+cease! But are you sure that Joseph Freyer would have been capable of
+treating us in this way, had it not been for the flood of gossip you
+poured out on him and his cousin, Josepha? It embittered his mind
+against us and drove him into the stranger's arms. Has he not said a
+hundred times that, if it were not for personating the Christ, he would
+have left Ammergau long ago? Where _one_ bond is destroyed another
+tears all the more easily. Take it as a lesson--and keep silence _this_
+time at least, if you can govern your feminine weakness so far! I shall
+make your husbands accountable for every word which escapes concerning
+this matter." Several of the women murmured and cast spiteful glances
+at the burgomaster.
+
+"To _whom_ does this refer, _who_ is said to have tattled?" asked a
+stout woman with a bold face.
+
+The burgomaster frowned. "It refers to those who feel guilty--and does
+not concern those who do not!" he cried, sternly. "The good silent
+women among you know very well that I do not mean them--and the others
+can take heed."
+
+A painful pause followed. The burgomaster's eyes rested threateningly
+upon the angry faces of the culprits. Those who felt that they were
+innocent gazed at him undisturbed.
+
+"I will answer for my wife"--"Nothing shall go from my house!"
+protested one after another, and thus at least every effort would be
+made to save the honor of Ammergau, and conceal their disgrace from the
+world. But now came the question how to save the Play. A warm debate
+followed. The people, thus robbed of their hopes, wished to continue
+the performances at any cost, with any cast of characters. But here
+they encountered the resolute opposition of the burgomaster: "Either
+well--or not at all!" was his ultimatum. "We cannot deceive ourselves
+for a moment. At present, there is not one of us who can personate the
+Christ--except Thomas Rendner, and where, in that case, could we find a
+Pilate--who could replace Thomas Rendner?"
+
+There was a violent discussion. "The sacristan, Nathanael, could play
+Pilate."
+
+"Who then would take Nathanael?"
+
+"Ah, if this one and that one were still in the village! But they had
+gone away to seek their bread, like so many who could no longer earn a
+support since the Partenkirch School of Carving had competed with the
+one in Ammergau. And many more would follow. If things went on in the
+same fashion, and matters were not improved by the play, in ten years
+more there might be none to fill the parts, necessity would gradually
+drive every one away."
+
+"Yes, we are in a sore strait, my friends. The company melts away more
+and more--the danger to the Passion Play constantly increases. If we
+can find no help now, penury will deprive us of some of our best
+performers ere the next time. And yet, my friends, believe me--I
+say it with a heavy heart: if we now continue with a poor cast of
+characters--we shall be lost wholly and forever, for then we shall have
+destroyed the reputation of the Passion Play."
+
+"Thomas Rendner will personate the Christ well--there is no danger on
+that score."
+
+"And if he does--if Rendner takes the Christ, the sacristan Pilate, and
+some one else Nathanael--shall we not be obliged to study the whole
+piece again, and can that be done so rapidly? Can we commence our
+rehearsals afresh now? I ask you, is it possible?"
+
+The people hung their heads in hopeless discouragement.
+
+"Our sole resource would be to find a Christ among those who are not in
+the Play--and all who have talent are already employed. The others
+cannot be used, if we desire to present an artistic whole."
+
+Despair seized upon the listeners--there was not a single one among
+them who had not invested his little all in furniture and beds for the
+strangers, and even incurred debts for the purpose, to say nothing of
+the universal poverty.
+
+New proposals were made, all of which the hapless burgomaster was
+compelled to reject.
+
+"The general welfare is at a stake, and the burgomaster thinks only of
+the _artistic whole_."
+
+With these words the wrath of the assembly was finally all directed
+against him, and those who fanned it were mainly the strangers
+attracted by the Passion Play for purposes of speculation, who cared
+nothing how much it suffered in future, if only they made their money!
+
+"I know the elements which are stirring up strife here," said the
+burgomaster, scanning the assembly with his stern eyes. "But they shall
+not succeed in separating us old citizens of Ammergau, who have held
+together through every calamity! Friends, let the spirit which our
+forefathers have preserved for centuries save us from discord--let us
+not deny the good old Ammergau nature in misfortune."
+
+"And with the good old nature you can starve," muttered the
+speculators.
+
+"If the burgomaster does not consider your interests of more importance
+than the fame of his success as stage manager he ought to go to Munich
+and get the position--there he could give as many model performances as
+he desired!"
+
+"Yes," cried another, "he is sacrificing our interests to his own
+vanity."
+
+During this accusation the burgomaster remained standing with his
+figure drawn up to its full height. Only the dark swollen vein on his
+weary brow betrayed the indignation seething in his soul.
+
+"I disdain to make any reply to such a charge. I know the hearts of my
+fellow citizens too well to fear that any one of them believes it."
+
+"No, certainly not!" exclaimed the wiser ones. But the majority were
+silent in their wrathful despair.
+
+"I know that many of you misjudge me, and I bear you no resentment for
+it. I admit that in such a period of storm and stress it is difficult
+to maintain an unprejudiced judgment.
+
+"I know also that I myself have often bewildered your judgment, for it
+is impossible to create such a work without giving offense here and
+there. I know that many who feel wounded and slighted secretly resent
+it, and I do not blame them! Only I beg you to visit the rancor on me
+_personally_--not extend it to the cause and injure that out of
+opposition to me. In important moments like these, I beg you to let all
+private grudges drop and gather around me--in this one decisive hour
+think only of the whole community, and not of all the wrongs the
+burgomaster may have done you individually.
+
+"If I had only the interest of Ammergau to guard, all would be well!
+But I have not only _your_ welfare to protect, but the dignity of a
+cause for which I am responsible to _God_--so long as it remains in my
+hands. Human nature is weak and subject to external impressions. The
+religious conceptions of thousands depend upon the greater or less
+powerful illusion produced by the Passion Play as a moral symbol. This
+is a heavy responsibility in a time when negation and materialism are
+constantly undermining faith and dragging everything sacred in the
+dust. In such a period, the utmost perfection of detail is necessary,
+that the _form_ at least may command respect, where the _essence_ is
+despised. I will try to make this dear to you by an example. The cynic
+who sneers at our worship of Mary and, with satirical satisfaction,
+paints the Virgin as the corpulent mother of four or five boys, will
+laugh at an Altoetting Virgin but grow silent and earnest before a
+Sistine Madonna! For here the divinity in which he does not wish to
+believe confronts him in the work of art and compels his reverence. It
+is precisely in a period of materialism like the present that religious
+representation has its most grateful task--for the deeper man sinks
+into sensualism, the more accessible he is to sensual impressions, and
+the more easily religion can influence him through visible forms,
+repelling or attracting according to the defective or artistic
+treatment of the material. The religious-sensuous impetus is the only
+one which can influence times like these, that is why the Passion Play
+is more important now than ever!
+
+"God has bestowed upon me the modest talent of organization and a
+little artistic culture, that I may watch over it, and see that those
+who come to us trustfully to seek their God, do not go away with
+a secret disappointment--and that those who come to _laugh_ may be
+quiet--and ashamed.
+
+"This is the great task allotted to me, which I have hitherto executed
+without regard for personal irritability, and the injury of petty
+individual interests, and hope to accomplish even under stress of the
+most dire necessity.
+
+"If you wish to oppose it, you should have given the office I occupy to
+some one who thinks the task less lofty, and who is complaisant enough
+to sacrifice the noble to the petty. But see where you will end with
+the complaisant man, who listens to every one. See how soon anarchy
+will enter among you, for where individual guidance is lacking, and
+every one can assert his will, the seed of discord shoots up,
+overgrowing everything. Now you are all against _me_, but then you will
+be against _one another_, and while you are quarreling and disputing,
+time will pass unused, and at last the first antiquated model will be
+seized because it can be most easily and quickly executed. But the
+modern world will turn away with a derisive laugh, saying: 'We can't
+look at these peasant farces any more.'
+
+"Then answer for robbing thousands of a beautiful illusion and letting
+them return home poorer in faith and reverence than they came--answer
+for it to God, whose sublime task you have degraded by an inferior
+performance, and lastly to yourselves for forgetting the future in the
+present gain, and to profit by the Passion Play a few more times now,
+ruin it for future decades. You do not believe it because, in this
+secluded village, you cannot know what the taste of our times demands.
+But I do, for I have lived in the outside world, and I tell you that
+whoever sees these incomplete performances will certainly not return,
+and will make us a reputation stamping us as bunglers forever!"
+
+The burgomaster pressed his hand to his head; a keen pang was piercing
+his brain--and his heart also.
+
+"I have nothing more to add," he concluded, faintly. "But if you know
+any one whom you believe could care for Ammergau better than I--I am
+ready at any moment to place my office in his hands."
+
+Then, with one accord, every heart swelled with the old lofty feeling
+for the sacred cause of their ancestors and grateful appreciation of
+the man who had again roused it in them. No, he did not deserve that
+they should doubt him--he had again taught them to think like true
+natives of Ammergau, aye, they felt proudly that he was of the true
+stock--it was Ammergau blood that flowed in his veins and streamed from
+the wounds which had been inflicted on his heart that day! They saw
+that they had wronged him and they gathered with their old love and
+loyalty around the sorely-beset man, ready to atone with their lives,
+for these hot-blooded, easily influenced artist-natures were
+nevertheless true to the core.
+
+The malcontents were forced to keep silence, no one listened to
+them. All flocked around the burgomaster. "We will stand by you.
+Burgomaster--only tell us what we are to do--and how we can help
+ourselves. We rely wholly upon you."
+
+"Alas! my friends, I must reward your restored confidence with
+unpalatable counsel. Let us bear the misfortune like men! It is
+better to fell trees in the forest, go out as day laborers--nay,
+_starve_--rather than be faithless to the spirit of our ancestors! Am I
+not right?" A storm of enthusiasm answered him.
+
+It was resolved to announce the close of the Passion Play for this
+decade. The document was signed by all the members of the community.
+
+"So it is ended for this year! For many of us perhaps for this life!"
+said the burgomaster. "I thank all who have taken part in the Play up
+to this time. I will report the receipts and expenditures within a few
+days. In consideration of the painful cause, we will dispense with any
+formal close."
+
+A very different mood from the former one now took possession of the
+assembly. All anxiety concerning material things vanished in the
+presence of a deeper sorrow. It was the great, mysterious grief of
+parting, which seized all who had to do anything connected with the
+"Passion." It seemed as if the roots of their hearts had become
+completely interwoven with it and must draw blood in being torn away,
+as if a part of their lives went with it. The old men felt the pang
+most keenly. "For the last time for this life!" are words before whose
+dark portal we stand hesitating, be it where it may--but if this "for
+the last time" concerns the highest and dearest thing we possess on
+earth, they contain a fathomless gulf of sadness! Old Barabbas, the man
+of ninety, was the first, to express it--the others joined in and the
+greybeards who had been young together and devoted their whole lives to
+the cause which to them was the highest in the world, sank into one
+another's arms, like a body of men condemned to death.
+
+Then one chanted the closing line of the choragus: "Till in the world
+beyond we meet"--and all joined as with a _single_ voice, the
+unutterable anguish of resigning that close communion with Deity, in
+which every one of them lived during this period, created its own
+ceremonial of farewell and found apt expression in those last words of
+the Passion Play.
+
+Then they shook hands with one another, exchanging a life-long
+farewell. They knew that they should meet again the next day--in the
+same garments--but no longer what they now were, Roman governor and
+high-priests, apostles and saints. They were excluded from the
+companionship of the Lord, for their Christ had not risen as usual--he
+had fled and faithlessly deserted his flock, ere their task could be
+fulfilled. It was doubly hard!
+
+Old Judas, the venerable Lechner, was so much moved that they were
+obliged to support him down the stairs: Judas weeping over Christ! The
+loyal man had suffered unutterably from the necessity of playing the
+traitor's part--the treachery now practised toward the sacred cause by
+the personator of Christ himself--fairly broke his heart! "That I must
+live to witness this!" he murmured, wringing his hands as he descended
+the steps. But Thomas Rendner shook his handsome head and mournfully
+repeated the momentous words of Pilate: "What is truth?" With tears in
+his eyes, he held out his sinewy right hand consolingly to Caiaphas.
+
+"Don't take it so much to heart, Burgomaster; God is still with us!"
+Then he cast a sorrowful glance toward the corner of the room. "Poor
+Mary! I always thought so!" he muttered compassionately, under his
+breath, and followed the others.
+
+The burgomaster and Ludwig were left behind alone and followed
+the direction of Rendner's glance. There--it almost broke their
+hearts--there sat the burgomaster's sister--the "Mary" in the corner,
+with her hands clasped in her lap, the very attitude in which she
+waited for the body of her Crucified Son.
+
+"Poor sister," said the burgomaster, deeply moved. "For what are you
+waiting? They will never bring him to you again."
+
+"He will come back, the poor martyr!" she replied, her large eyes
+gazing with prophetic earnestness into vacancy. "He will come, weary
+and wounded--perhaps betrayed by all."
+
+"Then I will have nothing to do with him," said the burgomaster in a
+low, firm tone.
+
+"You can do as you please, you are a man. But I, who have so long
+personated his mother--I will wait and receive and comfort him, as a
+mother cheers her erring child."
+
+"Oh, Anastasia!" A cry of pain escaped Ludwig's lips, and, overwhelmed
+by emotion, he turned away.
+
+The burgomaster, with tender sympathy, laid his hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"Ah, sister, Freyer is not worthy that you should love him so!"
+
+"How do I love him?" replied the girl. "I love him as Eternal
+Compassion loves the poor and suffering. He _is_ poor and suffering.
+Oh! do not think evil of him--he does not deserve it. He is good and
+noble! Believe me, a mother must know her child better," she added,
+with the smile that reveals a breaking heart.
+
+She looked the drawing-master kindly in the face: "Ludwig, we both
+understand him, do we not? _We_ believe in him, though all condemn."
+
+Ludwig could not speak--he merely nodded silently and pressed
+Anastasia's hand, as if in recognition of the pledge. He was undergoing
+a superhuman conflict, but, with the strength peculiar to him,
+succeeded in repressing any display of emotion.
+
+The burgomaster stood mutely watching the scene, and neither of the
+three could decide which suffered most.
+
+He gazed in speechless grief at the clasped hands of his sister and his
+friend. How often he had wished for this moment, and now--? What
+_parted_ alone united them, and what united, divided.
+
+"Aye, Freyer has brought much misery upon us!" he said, with sullen
+resentment. "I only hope that he will never set foot again upon the
+soil of his forefathers!"
+
+"Oh, Brother, how can you speak so--you do not mean it. I know that his
+heart will draw him back here; he will seek his home again, and he
+shall find it. You will not thrust him from you when he returns from
+foreign lands sorrowing and repentant. God knows how earnestly I wish
+him happiness, but I do not believe that he will possess it. And as he
+will be loyal to us in his inmost soul, we will be true to him and
+prepare a resting place when the world has nailed his heart upon the
+cross. Shall we not, Ludwig?"
+
+"Yes, by Heaven, we will!" faltered Ludwig, and his tears fell on the
+beautiful head of the girl, who still sat motionless, as if she must
+wait here for the lost one.
+
+"Woman, behold thy son--son, behold thy mother!" stirred the air like a
+breath.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+                             THE MARRIAGE.
+
+
+On a wooded height, hidden in the heart of the forests of the Bavarian
+highlands, stood an ancient hunting castle, the property of the
+Wildenau family. A steep mountain path led up to it, and at its feet,
+like a stone sea, stretched the wide, dry bed of a river, a Griess, as
+it was called in that locality. Only a few persons knew the way; to the
+careless glance the path seemed wholly impassable.
+
+Bare, rugged cliffs towered like a wall around the hunting castle on
+its mossy height, harmonizing in melancholy fashion with the white sea
+of stone below, which formed a harsh foreground to the dreary scene.
+Ever and anon a stag emerged from the woods, crossing the Griess with
+elastic tread, the brown silhouette of its antlers sharply relieved
+against the colorless monotony of the landscape. The hind came forward
+from the opposite side, slowly, reluctantly, with nostrils vibrating.
+The report of a rifle echoed from beyond the river bed, the antlers
+drooped, the royal creature fell upon its knees, then rolled over on
+its back; its huge antlers, flung backward in the death agony, were
+thrust deep down among the loose pebbles. The hind had fled, the
+poacher seized his prey--a slender rill of blood trickled noiselessly
+through the stones, then everything was once more silent and lifeless.
+
+This was the hiding-place where, for seven years, Countess Wildenau had
+hidden the treasury filched from the cross--the rock sepulchre in which
+she intended to keep the God whom the world believed dead. Built close
+against the cliff, half concealed by an overhanging precipice, the
+castle seemed to be set in a niche. Shut out from the sunshine by the
+projecting crag which cast its shadow over it even at noonday, it was
+so cold and damp that the moisture trickled down the walls of the
+building, and, moreover, was surrounded by that strange atmosphere of
+wet moss and rotting mushrooms which awakens so strange a feeling when,
+after a hot walk, we pause to rest in the cool courtyard of some ruined
+castle, where our feet sink into wet masses of mouldering brown leaves
+which for decades no busy hand has swept away. It seems as if the sun
+desired to associate with human beings. Where no mortal eyes behold its
+rays, it ceases to shine. It does not deem it worth while to penetrate
+the heaps of withered leaves, or the tangle of wild vines and bushes,
+or the veil of cobwebs and lime-dust which, in the course of time,
+accumulates in heaps in the masonry of a deserted dwelling.
+
+As we see by a child's appearance whether or not it has a loving
+mother, so the aspect of a house reveals whether or not it is dear to
+its owner, and as a neglected child drags out a joyless existence, so a
+neglected house gradually becomes cold and inhospitable.
+
+This was the case with the deserted little hunting seat. No foot had
+crossed its threshold within the memory of man. What could the Countess
+Wildenau do with it? It was so remote, so far from all the paths of
+travel, so hidden in the woods that it would not even afford a fine
+view. It stood as an outpost on the chart containing the location of
+the Wildenau estates. It had never entered the owner's mind to seek it
+out in this--far less in reality.
+
+Every year an architect was sent there to superintend the most
+necessary repairs, because it was not fitting for a Wildenau to let one
+of these family castles go to ruin. This was all that was done to
+preserve the building. The garden gradually ran to waste, and became so
+blended with the forest that the boughs of the trees beat against the
+windows of the edifice and barred out like a green hedge the last
+straggling sunbeams. A castle for a Sleeping Beauty, but without the
+sleeping princess. Then Fate willed that a blissful secret in its
+owner's breast demanded just such a hiding-place in which to dream the
+strangest fantasy ever imagined by woman since Danae rested in the
+embrace of Jove.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau sought and found this forgotten spot in her
+chart, and, with the energy bestowed by the habit of being able to
+accomplish whatever we desire, she discovered a secret ford through the
+Griess, known only to a trustworthy old driver, and no one was aware of
+Countess Wildenau's residence when she vanished from society for days.
+There were rumors of a romantic adventure or a religious ecstacy into
+which the Ammergau Passion Play had transported her years before. She
+had set off upon her journey to the Promised Land directly after, and
+as no sea is so wide, no mountain so lofty, that gossip cannot find its
+way over them, it even made its way from the Holy Sepulchre to the
+drawing rooms of the capital.
+
+A gentleman, an acquaintance of so-and-so, had gone to the Orient, and
+in Jerusalem, at the Holy Sepulchre, met a veiled lady, who was no
+other than Countess Wildenau. There would have been nothing specially
+remarkable in that. But at the lady's side knelt a gentleman who bore
+so remarkable a resemblance to the pictures of Christ that one might
+have believed it was the Risen Lord Himself who, dissatisfied with
+heaven, had returned repentant to His deserted resting-place.
+
+How interesting! The imagination of society, thirsting for romance,
+naturally seized upon this bit of news with much eagerness.
+
+Who could the gentleman with the head of Christ be, save the Ammergau
+Christ? This agreed with the sudden interruption of the Passion Play
+that summer, on account of the illness of the Christ--as the people of
+Ammergau said, who perfectly understood how to keep their secrets from
+the outside world.
+
+But as they committed the imprudence of occasionally sending their
+daughters to the city, one and another of these secrets of the
+community, more or less distorted, escaped through the dressing-rooms
+of the mistresses of these Ammergau maids.
+
+Thus here and there a flickering ray fell upon the Ammergau
+catastrophe: The Christ was not ill--he had vanished--run away--with a
+lady of high rank. What a scandal! Then lo! one day Countess Wildenau
+appeared--after a journey of three years in the east--somewhat
+absentminded, a little disposed to assume religious airs, but without
+any genuine piety. Religion is not to be obtained by an indulgence of
+religious-erotic rapture with its sweet delusions--it can be obtained
+only by the hard labor of daily self-sacrifice, of which a nature like
+Madeleine von Wildenau's has no knowledge.
+
+So she returned, somewhat changed--yet only so far as that her own ego,
+which the world did not know, was even more potential than before.
+
+But she came alone! Where had she left her pallid Christ? All inquiries
+were futile. What could be said? There was no proof of anything--and
+besides; proven or not--what charge would have overthrown Countess
+Wildenau? That would have been an achievement for which even her foes
+lacked perseverance?
+
+It is very amusing when a person's moral ruin can be effected by a word
+carelessly uttered! But when the labor of producing proof is associated
+with it, people grow good-natured from sheer indolence--let the victim
+go, and seek an easier prey.
+
+This was the case with the Countess Wildenau! Her position remained as
+unshaken as ever, nay the charm of her person exerted an influence even
+more potent than before. Was it her long absence, or had she grown
+younger? No matter--she had gained a touch of womanly sweetness which
+rendered her irresistible.
+
+In what secret mine of the human heart and feeling had she garnered the
+rays which glittered in her eyes like hidden treasures on which the
+light of day falls for the first time?
+
+When a woman conceals in her heart a secret joy men flock around her,
+with instinctive jealousy, all the more closely, they would fain
+dispute the sweet right of possession with the invisible rival. This is
+a trait of human nature. But one of the number did so consciously, not
+from a jealous instinct but with the full, intense resolve of
+unswerving fidelity--the prince! With quiet caution, and the wise
+self-control peculiar to him, he steadily pursued his aim. Not with
+professions of love; he was only too well aware that love is no weapon
+against love! On the contrary, he chose a different way, that of cold
+reason.
+
+"So long as she is aglow with love, she will be proof against any other
+feeling--she must first be cooled to the freezing-point, then the
+chilled bird can be clasped carefully to the breast and given new
+warmth."
+
+It would be long ere that point was reached--but he knew how to wait!
+
+Meanwhile he drew the Countess into a whirl of the most fascinating
+amusements.
+
+No word, no look betrayed the still hopeful lover! With the manner of
+one who had relinquished all claims, but was too thoroughly a man of
+the world to avoid an interesting woman because he had failed to win
+her heart, he again sought her society after her return. Had he
+betrayed the slightest sign of emotion, he would have been repulsive
+in her present mood. But the perfect frankness and unconcern with which
+he played the "old friend" and nothing more, made his presence a
+comfort, nay even a necessity of life! So he became her inseparable
+companion--her shadow, and by the influence of his high position
+stifled every breath of slander, which floated from Ammergau to injure
+his beautiful friend.
+
+During the first months after her return she had the whim--as she
+called it--of retiring from society and spending more time upon her
+estates. But the wise caution of the prince prevented it.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, don't do that. Will you give free play to the
+rumors about your Ammergau episode and the pilgrimage to Jerusalem
+connected with it, by withdrawing into solitude and thus leaving the
+field to your slanderers, that they may disport at will in the deserted
+scenes of your former splendor?"
+
+"This," he argued, "is the very time when you must take your old
+position in society, or you will be--pardon my frankness--a fallen
+star."
+
+The Countess evidently shrank from the thought.
+
+"Or--have you some castle in the air whose delights outweigh the world
+in your eyes?" he asked with relentless insistence:
+
+This time the Countess flushed to the fair curls which clustered around
+her forehead.
+
+Since that time the drawing-rooms of the Wildenau palace had again
+been filled with the fragrance of roses--lighted, and adorned with
+glowing Oriental magnificence, and the motley tide of society, amid
+vivacious chatter, flooded the spacious apartments. Glittering with
+diamonds, intoxicated by the charm of her own beauty whose power she
+had not tested for years, the Countess was the centre of all this
+splendor--while in the lonely hunting-seat beyond the pathless Griess,
+the solitary man whom she had banished thither vainly awaited--his
+wife.
+
+The leaves in the forest were turning brown for the sixth time since
+their return from Jerusalem, the autumn gale was sweeping fresh heaps
+of withered leaves to add to the piles towering like walls around the
+deserted building, the height was constantly growing colder and more
+dreary, the drawing-rooms below were continually growing warmer, the
+Palace Wildenau, with its Persian hangings and rugs and cosy nooks
+behind gay screens daily became more thronged with guests. People drew
+their chairs nearer and nearer the blazing fire on the hearth, which
+cast a rosy light upon pallid faces and made weary eyes sparkle with a
+simulated glow of passion. The intimate friends of the Countess
+Wildenau, reclining in comfortable armchairs, were gathered in a group,
+the gentlemen resting after the fatigues of hunting--or the autumn
+man[oe]uvres, the ladies after the first receptions and balls of the
+season, which are the more exhausting before habit again asserts its
+sway, to say nothing of the question of toilettes, always so trying to
+the nerves at these early balls.
+
+What is to be done at such times? It is certainly depressing to
+commence the season with last year's clothes, and one cannot get new
+ones because nobody knows what styles the winter will bring? Parisian
+novelties have not come. So one must wear an unassuming toilette of no
+special style in which one feels uncomfortable and casts aside
+afterwards, because one receives from Paris something entirely
+different from what was expected!
+
+So the ladies chatted and Countess Wildenau entered eagerly into the
+discussion. She understood and sympathized with these woes, though now,
+as the ladies said, she really could not "chime in" since she had a
+store of valuable Oriental stuffs and embroideries, which would supply
+a store of "exclusive" toilettes for years. Only people of inferior
+position were compelled to follow the fashions--great ladies set them
+and the costliness of the material prevented the garments from
+appearing too fantastic. A Countess Wildenau could allow herself such
+bizarre costumes. She had a right to set the fashions and people would
+gladly follow her if they could, but two requirements were lacking, on
+one side the taste--on the other the purse. The Countess charmingly
+waived her friends' envious compliments; but her thoughts were not on
+the theme they were discussing; her eyes wandered to a crayon picture
+hanging beside the mantel-piece, the picture of a boy who had the
+marvellous beauty of one of Raphael's cherubs.
+
+"What child is that?" asked one of the ladies who had followed her
+glance.
+
+"Don't you recognize it?" replied the Countess with a dreamy smile. "It
+is the Christ in the picture of the Sistine Madonna."
+
+"Why, how very strange--if you had a son one might have thought it was
+his portrait, it resembles you so much."
+
+"Do you notice it?" the Countess answered. "Yes, that was the opinion
+of the artist who copied the picture; he gave it to me as a surprise."
+She rose and took another little picture from the wall. "Look, this is
+a portrait of me when I was three years old--there really is some
+resemblance."
+
+The ladies all assented, and the gentlemen, delighted to have an
+opportunity to interrupt the discussion of the fashions, came forward
+and noticed with astonishment the striking likeness between the girl
+and the boy.
+
+"It is really the Christ child in the Sistine Madonna--very exquisitely
+painted!" said the prince.
+
+"By the way, Cousin," cried a sharp, high voice, over Prince Emil's
+shoulder, a voice issuing from a pair of very thin lips shaded by a
+reddish moustache, "do you know that you have the very model of this
+picture on your own estates?"
+
+The Countess, with a strangely abrupt, nervous movement, pushed the
+copy aside and hastily turned to replace her own portrait on the wall.
+The gentlemen tried to aid her, but she rejected all help, though she
+was not very skillful in her task, and consequently was compelled to
+keep her back turned to the group a long time.
+
+"It is possible--I cannot remember," she replied, while still in this
+position. "I cannot know the children of all my tenants."
+
+"Yes," the jarring voice persisted, "it is a boy who is roaming about
+near your little hunting-castle."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau grew ghastly pale.
+
+"Apropos of that hunting box," the gentleman added--he was one of the
+disinherited Wildenaus--"you might let me have it, Cousin. I'll confess
+that I've recently been looking up the old rat's nest. Schlierheim will
+lease his preserves beyond the government forests, but only as far as
+your boundaries, and there is no house. My brother and I would hire
+them if we could have the old Wildenau hunting-box. We are ready to pay
+you the largest sum the thing is worth. You know it formerly belonged
+to our branch of the family, and your husband obtained it only forty
+years ago. At that time it was valueless to us, but now we should like
+to buy it again."
+
+The Countess shivered and ordered more wood to be piled on the fire.
+She had unconsciously drawn nearer to Prince Emily as if seeking his
+protection. Her shoulder touched his. She was startlingly pale.
+
+"The recollection of her husband always affects her in this way," the
+prince remarked.
+
+"Well, we will discuss the matter some other time, _belle cousine_!"
+said Herr Wildenau, sipping a glass of Chartreuse which the servant
+offered.
+
+Prince Emil's watchful gaze followed the little scene with the closest
+attention.
+
+"Did you not intend to have the little castle put in order for your
+father's residence, as the city air does not agree with him in his
+present condition?" he said, with marked emphasis.
+
+"Yes, certainly--I--we were speaking of it a short time ago," stammered
+the Countess. "Besides, I am fond of the little castle. I should not
+wish to sell it."
+
+"Ah, you are _fond_ of it. Pardon me--that is difficult to understand!
+I thought you set no value upon it--the whole place is so neglected."
+
+"That is exactly what pleases me--I like to have it so," replied the
+Countess in an irritated tone. "It does not need to have everything in
+perfect order. It is a genuine forest idyl!"
+
+"A forest idyl?" repeated the cousin. "H'm, Ah, yes! That's a different
+matter. Pardon me. Had I known it, I would not have alluded to the
+subject!" His keen gray eyes glittered with a peculiar light as he
+kissed her hand and took his leave.
+
+The others thought they must now withdraw also, and the Countess
+detained no one--she was evidently very weary.
+
+The prince also took leave--for the sake of etiquette--but he
+whispered, with an expression of friendly anxiety, "I will come back
+soon." And he kept his promise.
+
+An hour had passed. Madeleine von Wildenau, her face still colorless,
+was reclining on a divan in a simple home costume.
+
+Prince Emil's first glance sought the little table on which stood the
+crayon picture of the infant Christ--it had vanished.
+
+The Countess followed his look and saw that he missed it--their eyes
+met. The prince took a chair and sat down by her side, as if she were
+an invalid who had just sustained a severe operation and required the
+utmost care. He himself was very pale. Gently arranging the pillows
+behind her, he gazed sympathizingly into her face.
+
+"Why did you not tell me this before?" he murmured, almost inaudibly,
+after a pause. "All this should have been very differently managed!"
+
+"Prince, how could I suppose that you were so generous--so noble"--she
+could not finish the sentence, her eyes fell, the beautiful woman's
+face crimsoned with shame.
+
+He gazed earnestly at her, feeling at this moment the first great
+sorrow of his life, but also perceiving that he could not judge the
+exquisite creature who lay before him like a statue of the Magdalene
+carved by the most finished artist--because he could not help loving
+her in her sweet embarrassment more tenderly than ever.
+
+"Madeleine," he said, softly, and his breath fanned her brow like a
+cooling breeze, "will you trust me? It will be easier for you."
+
+She clasped his hand in her slender, transparent fingers, raising her
+eyes beseechingly to his with a look of the sweetest feminine weakness,
+like a young girl or an innocent child who is atoning for some trivial
+sin. "Let me keep my secret," she pleaded, with such touching
+embarrassment that it almost robbed the prince of his calmness.
+
+"Very well," he said, controlling himself with difficulty. "I will ask
+no farther questions and will not strive to penetrate your secret. But
+if you ever need a friend--and I fear that may happen--pray commit no
+farther imprudences, and remember that, in me, you possess one who adds
+to a warm heart a sufficiently cool head to be able to act for you as
+this difficult situation requires! Farewell, _chere amie_! Secure a
+complete rest."
+
+Without waiting for an answer, like the experienced physician, who
+merely prescribes for his patients without conversing with them about
+the matter, he disappeared.
+
+The countess was ashamed--fairly oppressed by the generosity of his
+character. Would it have been better had she told him the truth?
+
+Should she tell him that she was married? Married! Was she wedded?
+Could she be called a wife? She had played a farce with herself and
+Freyer, a farce in which, from her standpoint, she could not believe
+herself.
+
+On their flight from Ammergau they had hastened to Prankenberg,
+surprised the old pastor in his room, and with Josepha and a coachman
+who had grown gray in the service of the Wildenau family for witnesses,
+declared in the presence of the priest that they took each other for
+husband and wife.
+
+The old gentleman, in his surprise and perplexity, knew not what course
+to pursue. The countess appealed to the rite of the Tridentine Council,
+according to which she and Freyer, after this declaration, were man and
+wife, even without a wedding ceremony or permission to marry in another
+diocese. Then the loyal pastor, who had grown gray in the service of
+the Prankenbergs, as well as of his church, could do nothing except
+acknowledge the fact, declare the marriage valid, and give them the
+marriage certificate.
+
+So at the breakfast-table, over the priest's smoking coffee, the bond
+had been formed which the good pastor was afterwards to enter in the
+church register as a marriage. But even this outward proof of the
+marriage between the widowed Countess Wildenau and the Ammergau
+wood-carver Freyer was removed, for the countess had been right in
+distrusting her father and believing that his advice concerning the
+secret marriage was but a stratagem of war to deter her from taking any
+public step.
+
+On returning from the priest's, her carriage dashed by Prince von
+Prankenberg's.
+
+Ten minutes after the prince rushed like a tempest into the room of the
+peaceful old pastor, and succeeded in preventing the entry of the
+"scandal," as he called it, in the church register. So the proofs of
+the fact were limited to the marriage certificate in the husband's
+hands and the two witnesses, Josepha and Martin, the coachman--a chain,
+it is true, which bound Madeleine von Wildenau, yet which was always in
+her power.
+
+What was this marriage? How would a man like the prince regard it?
+Would it not wear a totally different aspect in the eyes of the sceptic
+and experienced man of the world than in those of the simple-hearted
+peasant who believed that everything which glittered was gold? Was such
+a marriage, which permitted the exercise of none of the rights and
+duties which elevate it into a moral institution, better than an
+illegal relation? Nay, rather worse, for it perpetrated a robbery of
+God--it was an illegal relation which had stolen a sacred name!
+
+But--what did this mean? To-day, for the first time, she felt as if
+fate might give the matter the moral importance which she did not
+willingly accord it--as if the Deity whose name she had abused might
+take her at her word and compel her to turn jest into earnest.
+
+Her better nature frankly confessed that this would be only moral
+justice! To this great truth she bowed her head as the full ears bend
+before the approaching hail storm.
+
+Spite of the chill autumn evening, there was an incomprehensible
+sultriness in the air of the room.
+
+Something in the brief conversation with Herr Wildenau and especially
+in the manner in which the prince, with his keen penetration,
+understood the episode, startled the Countess and aroused her fears.
+
+Why had Herr Wildenau gone to the little hunting-box? How had he seen
+the child?
+
+Yet how could she herself have been so imprudent as to display the
+picture? And still--it was the infant Christ of Raphael. Could she not
+even have one of Raphael's heads in her drawing-room without danger
+that some one would discover a suspicious resemblance!
+
+She sprang from the cushions indignantly, drawing herself up to her
+full height. Who was she? What did she dread?
+
+"Anything but cowardice, Madeleine," she cried out to herself. "Woe
+betide you, if your resolution fails, you are lost! If you do not look
+the brute gossip steadily in the eye, if so much as an eye-lash
+quivers, it will rend you. Do not be cowardly, Madeleine, have no
+scruples, they will betray you, will make your glance timid, your
+bearing uncertain, send a flush to your brow at every chance word.
+But"--she sank back among her cushions--"but unfortunately this very
+day the misfortune has happened, all these people may go away and say
+that they saw the Countess Wildenau blush and grow confused--and
+why?--Because a child was mentioned--"
+
+She shuddered and cowered--a moan of pain escaped her lips!
+
+"Yet you exist, my child--I cannot put you out of the world--and no
+mother ever had such a son. And I, instead of being permitted to be
+proud of you, must feel ashamed.
+
+"Oh, God, thou gavest me every blessing: the man I loved, a beautiful
+child--all earthly power and splendor--yet no contentment, no
+happiness! What do I lack?" She sat a long time absorbed in gloomy
+thought, then suddenly the cause became clear. She lacked the moral
+balance of service and counter-service.
+
+That was the reason all her happiness was but theft, and she was
+forced, like a thief, to enjoy it in fear and secrecy. Her maternal
+happiness was theft--for Josepha, the stranger, filled a mother's place
+to the boy, and when she herself pressed him to her heart she was
+stealing a love she had not earned. Her conjugal happiness was a theft,
+for so long as she retained her fortune, she was not permitted to
+marry! That was the curse! Wherever she looked, wherever she saw
+herself, she was always the recipient, the petitioner--and what did she
+bestow in return? Where did she make any sacrifice? Nothing--and
+nowhere! Egotism was apparent in everything. To enjoy all--possess all,
+even what was forbidden and sacrifice nothing, must finally render her
+a thief--in her own eyes, in those of God, and who knows, perhaps also
+in those of men, should her secret ever be discovered!
+
+"Woe betide you, unhappy woman--have you not the strength to resign one
+for the other? Would you rather live in fear of the betrayer than
+voluntarily relinquish your stolen goods? Then do not think yourself
+noble or lofty--do not deem yourself worthy of the grace for which you
+long!"
+
+She hid her face in the cushions of the divan, fairly quivering under
+the burden of her self-accusation.
+
+"I beg your pardon, your Highness, I only wanted to ask what evening
+toilette you desired."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau started up. "If you would only cease this
+stealing about on tip-toe!" she angrily exclaimed. "I beg pardon, I
+knocked twice and thought I did not hear your 'come in.'"
+
+"Walk so that you can be heard--I don't like to have my servants glide
+about like spies, remember that!"
+
+"At Princess Hohenstein's we were all obliged to wear felt slippers.
+Her Highness could not endure any noise."
+
+"Well I have better nerves than Princess Hohenstein."--
+
+"And apparently a worse conscience," muttered the maid, who had not
+failed to notice her mistress' confusion.
+
+"May I ask once more about the evening toilette?"
+
+"Street costume--I shall not go to the theatre, I will drive out to the
+estates. Order Martin to have the carriage ready."
+
+The maid withdrew.
+
+The countess felt as if she were in a fever--must that inquisitive maid
+see her in such a condition? It seemed as though she was surrounded
+like a hunted animal, as though eyes were everywhere watching her.
+
+There was something in the woman's look which had irritated her. Oh,
+God, had matters gone so far--must she fear the glance of her own maid?
+
+Up and away to nature and her child, to her poor neglected husband on
+the cliff.
+
+Her heart grew heavy at the thought that the time since she had last
+visited the deserted man could soon be counted by months.
+
+Her _interest_ in the simple-hearted son of nature was beginning to
+wane, she could not deny it. Woe betide her if _love_ should also grow
+cold; if that should happen, then--she realized it with horror--she
+would have no excuse for the whole sensuous--supersensuous episode,
+which had perilled both her honor and her existence!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX.
+
+                        AT THE CHILD'S BEDSIDE.
+
+
+The stars were already twinkling above the Griess, here and there one
+looked as if impaled on a giant flagstaff, as they sparkled just above
+the tops of the lofty firs or the sharp pinnacles of the crags.
+Countless shooting stars glided hither and thither like loving glances
+seeking one another.
+
+The night was breathing in long regular inhalations. Every five minutes
+her sleeping breath rustled the tree-tops.
+
+Four horses drawing a small calash whose wheels were covered with
+rubber glided across the Griess as noiselessly as a spectral equipage.
+The animals knew the way, and their fiery spirit urged them forward
+without the aid of shout or lash, though the mountain grew steeper and
+steeper till the black walls of the hunting seat at last became visible
+in the glimmering star-light.
+
+Josepha was standing at the window of the little sitting-room upstairs:
+
+"I think the countess is coming." At a table, by the lamp, bending over
+a book, sat "the _steward_."
+
+He evidently had not heard the words, for he did not look up from the
+volume and it seemed as if the gloomy shadow above his eyes grew darker
+still.
+
+"Joseph, the countess is coming!" cried Josepha in a louder tone.
+
+"You are deceiving yourself again, as usual," he replied in the
+wonderful voice which gave special importance to the simplest words, as
+when a large, musical bell is rung for some trivial cause.
+
+"No, this time it really is she," Josepha insisted.
+
+"I don't believe it."
+
+Josepha shook her head. "You must receive her."
+
+"She is not coming on my account, it is only to see the child."
+
+"Then _I_ will go. Oh, Heaven, what a life!" sighed Josepha, going out
+upon the green moss-covered steps of the half ruined stone stairs where
+the carriage had just stopped.
+
+"Is that you, Josepha?" asked the countess, in a disappointed tone,
+"where--where is Freyer?"
+
+"He is within, your Highness, he would not believe that your Highness
+was really coming!"
+
+The countess understood the bitter meaning of the words.
+
+"I did not come to endure ill-temper!" she murmured. "Is the boy
+asleep?"
+
+"Yes, we have taken him into the sitting-room, he is coughing again and
+his head is burning, so I wanted to have him in a warmer room."
+
+"Isn't it warm here?"
+
+"Since the funnel fell out, we cannot heat these rooms; Freyer tried to
+fit it in, but it smokes constantly. I wrote to your Highness last
+month asking what should be done. Freyer, too, reported a fortnight ago
+that the stove ought to be repaired, and the child moved to other
+apartments before the cold weather set in if Your Highness approved,
+but--we have had no answer. Now the little boy is ill--it is beginning
+to be very cold."
+
+Madeleine von Waldenau bit her lips. Yes, it was true, the letters had
+been written--and in the whirl of society and visits she had forgotten
+them.
+
+Now the child was ill--through her fault. She entered the sitting-room.
+Freyer stood waiting for her in a half defiant, half submissive
+attitude--half master, half servant.
+
+The bearing was unlovely, like everything that comes from a false
+position. It displeased the countess and injured Freyer, though she had
+herself placed him in this situation. It made him appear awkward and
+clownish.
+
+When, with careless hand, we have damaged a work of art and perceive
+that instead of improving we have marred it, we do not blame ourselves,
+but the botched object, and the innocent object must suffer because we
+have spoiled our own pleasure in it. It is the same with the work of
+art of creation--a human being.
+
+There are some natures which can never leave things undisturbed, but
+seek to gain a creative share in everything by attempts at shaping and
+when convinced that it would have been better had they left the work
+untouched, they see in the imperfect essay, not their own want of
+skill, but the inflexibility of the material, pronounce it not worth
+the labor bestowed--and cast it aside.
+
+The countess had one of these natures, so unconsciously cruel in their
+artistic experiments, and her marred object was--Freyer.
+
+Therefore his bearing did not, could not please her, and she allowed a
+glance of annoyance to rest upon him, which did not escape his notice.
+Passing him, she went to their son's bed.
+
+There lay the "infant Christ," a boy six or seven years old with silken
+curls and massive brows, beneath whose shadow the closed eyes were
+concealed by dark-lashed lids. A single ray from the hanging lamp fell
+upon the forehead of the little Raphael, and showed the soft brows knit
+as if with unconscious pain.
+
+The child was not happy--or not well--or both. He breathed heavily in
+his sleep, and there was a slight nervous twitching about the
+delicately moulded nostrils.
+
+"He has evidently lost flesh since I was last here!" said the countess
+anxiously.
+
+Freyer remained silent.
+
+"What do you think?" asked the mother.
+
+"What can I think? You have not seen the boy for so _long_ that you can
+judge whether he has altered far better than I."
+
+"Joseph!" The beautiful woman drew herself up, and a look of genuine
+sorrow rested upon the pale, irritated countenance of her husband.
+"Whenever I come, I find nothing save bitterness and cutting
+words--open and secret reproaches. This is too much. Not even to-day,
+when I find my child ill, do you spare the mother's anxious heart. This
+is more than I can endure, it is ignoble, unchivalrous."
+
+"Pardon me," replied her husband in a low tone, "I could not suppose
+that a mother who deserts her child for months could possibly possess
+so tender a nature that she would instantly grow anxious over a slight
+illness or a change in his appearance. I am a plain man, and cannot
+understand such contradictions!"
+
+"Yes, from your standpoint you are right--in your eyes I must seem a
+monster of heartlessness. I almost do in my own. Yet, precisely because
+the reproach appears merited it cuts me so deeply, that is why it would
+be generous and noble to spare me! Oh! Freyer, what has become of the
+great divine love which once forgave my every fault?"
+
+"It is where you have banished it, buried in the depths of my heart, as
+I am buried among these lonely mountains, silent and forgotten."
+
+The countess, shaking her head, gazed earnestly at him. "Joseph, you
+see that I am suffering. You must see that it would be a solace to rest
+in your love, and you are ungenerous enough to humble my bowed head
+still more."
+
+"I have no wish to humble you. But we can be generous only to those who
+need it. I see in the haughty Countess Wildenau a person who can
+exercise generosity, but not require it."
+
+"Because you do not look into the depths of my heart, tortured with
+agonies of unrest and self-accusation?" As she spoke tears sprang to
+her eyes, and she involuntarily thought of the faithful, shrewd friend
+at home whose delicate power of perception had that very day spared her
+the utterance of a single word, and at one glance perceived all the
+helplessness of her situation.
+
+True, the _latter_ was a man of the world whom the tinsel and glitter
+which surrounded her no longer had power to dazzle, and who was
+therefore aware how poor and wretched one can be in the midst of
+external magnificence.
+
+The _former_--a man of humble birth, with the childish idea of the
+value of material things current among the common people, could not
+imagine that a person might be surrounded by splendor and luxury, play
+a brilliant part in society, and yet be unhappy and need consideration.
+
+But, however, she might apologize for him, the very excuses lowered him
+still more in her eyes! Each of these conflicts seemed to widen the
+gulf between them instead of bridging it.
+
+Such scenes, which always reminded her afresh of his lowly origin, did
+him more injury in her eyes than either of them suspected at the
+moment. They were not mere ebullitions of anger, which yielded to
+equally sudden reactions--they were not phases of passion, but the
+result of cool deliberation from the standpoint of the educated woman,
+which ended in hopeless disappointment.
+
+The continual refrain: "You do not understand me!" with which the
+countess closed such discussions expressed the utter hopelessness of
+their mutual relations.
+
+"You wonder that I come so rarely!" she said bitterly. "And yet it is
+you alone who are to blame--nay, you have even kept me from the bedside
+of my child."
+
+"Indeed?" Freyer with difficulty suppressed his rising wrath. "This,
+too!"
+
+"Yes, how can you expect me to come gladly, when I always encounter
+scenes like these? How often, when I could at last escape from the
+thousand demands of society, and hurried hither with a soul thirsting
+for love, have you repulsed me with your perpetual reproaches which you
+make only because you have no idea of my relations and the claims of
+the fashionable world. So, at last, when I longed to come here to my
+husband and my child, dread of the unpleasant scenes which shadow your
+image, held me back, and I preferred to conjure before me at home the
+Freyer whom I once loved and always should love, if you did not
+yourself destroy the noble image. With _that_ Freyer I have sweet
+intercourse by my lonely fireside--with _him_ I obtain comfort and
+peace, if I avoid _this_ Freyer with his petty sensitiveness, his
+constant readiness to take umbrage." A mournful smile illumined her
+face as she approached him; "You see that when I think of the Freyer of
+whom I have just spoken--the Freyer of my imagination--my heart
+overflows and my eyes grow dim! Do you no longer know that Freyer? Can
+you not tell me where I shall find him again if I seek him very, _very_
+earnestly?"
+
+Freyer opened his arms and pointed to his heart: "Here, here, you can
+find him, if you desire--come, my beloved, loved beyond all things
+earthly, come to the heart which is only sick and sensitive from
+longing for you."
+
+In blissful forgetfulness she threw herself upon his breast, completely
+overwhelmed by another wave of the old illusion, losing herself
+entirely in his ardent embrace.
+
+"Oh, my dear wife!" he murmured in her ear, "I know that I am irritable
+and unjust! But you do not suspect the torment to which you condemn me.
+Banished from your presence, far from my home, torn from my native
+soil, and not yet rooted in yours. What life is this? My untrained
+reason is not capable of creating a philosophy which could solve this
+mystery. Why must these things be? I am married, yet not married. I am
+your husband, yet you are not my wife. I have committed no crime, yet
+am a prisoner, am not a dishonored man--yet am a despised one who must
+conceal himself in order not to bring shame upon his wife!
+
+"So the years passed and life flits by!" You come often, but--I might
+almost say only to make me taste once more the joys of the heaven from
+which I am banished.
+
+"Ah, it is more cruel than all the tortures of bell, for the condemned
+souls are not occasionally transferred to Heaven only to be again
+thrust forth and suffer a thousandfold. Even the avenging God is not so
+pitiless."
+
+The countess, overwhelmed by this heavy charge, let her head sink upon
+her husband's breast.
+
+"See, my wife," he continued in a gentle, subdued tone, whose magic
+filled her heart with that mournful pleasure with which we listen to a
+beautiful dirge even beside the corpse of the object of our dearest
+love. "In your circles people probably have sufficient self-control to
+suppress a great sorrow. I know that I only weary and annoy you by my
+constant complaints, and that you will at last prefer to avoid me
+entirely rather than expose yourself to them!
+
+"I know this--yet I cannot do otherwise. I was not trained to
+dissimulation--self-control, as you call it--I cannot laugh when my
+heart is bleeding or utter sweet words when my soul is full of
+bitterness. I do not understand what compulsion could prevent you, a
+free, rich woman, from coming to the husband whom you love, and I
+cannot believe that you could not come if you longed to do so--that is
+why I so often doubt your love.
+
+"What should you love in me? I warned you that I cannot always move
+about with the crown of thorns and sceptre of reeds as Ecce Homo, and
+you now perceive that you were deceived in me, that I am only a poor,
+ordinary man, your inferior in education and intellect! And so long as
+I am not a real Ecce Homo--though that perhaps might happen--so long I
+am not what you need. But however poor and insignificant I may be--I am
+not without honor--and when I think that you only come occasionally,
+out of compassion, to bring the beggar the crumbs which your fine
+gentlemen have left me--then, I will speak frankly--then my pride
+rebels and I would rather starve than accept alms."
+
+"And therefore you thrust back the loving wife when, with an
+overflowing heart, she stole away from the glittering circles of
+society to hasten to your side, therefore you were cold and stern,
+disdaining what the others _sought in vain_!--For, however distant you
+may be, there has not been an hour of my life which you might not have
+witnessed--however free and independent of you I may stand, there is
+not a fibre in my heart which does not cling to you! Ah, if you could
+only understand this deep, sacred tie which binds the freest spirit to
+the husband, the father of my child. If I had wings to soar over every
+land and sea--I should ever be drawn back to you and would return as
+surely as 'the bird bound by the silken cord.' No one can part me from
+you except _you yourself_. That you are not my equal in education, as
+you assert, does not sever us, but inferiority of _character_ would do
+so, for nothing but _greatness_ attracts me--to find you base would be
+the death-knell of our love! Even the child would no longer be a bond
+between us, for to intellectual natures like mine the ties of blood are
+mere animal instincts, unless pervaded and transfigured by a loftier
+idea. The greatest peril which threatens our love is that your narrow
+views prevent your attaining the standpoint from which a woman like
+myself must be judged. I have great faults which need great indulgence
+and a superiority which is not alarmed by them. Unfortunately, my
+friend, you lack both. I have a great love for you--but you measure it
+by the contracted scales of your humdrum morality, and before this it
+vanishes because its dimensions far transcend it.--Where, where, my
+friend, is the grandeur, the freedom of the soul which I need?"
+
+"Alas, your words are but too true," said Freyer, releasing her from
+his embrace. "Every word is a death sentence. You ask a grandeur which
+I do not possess and shall never obtain. I grew up in commonplace
+ideas, I have never seen any other life than that in which the husband
+and wife belonged together, the father and mother reared, tended, and
+watched their children together, and love in this close, tender
+companionship reached its highest goal. This idea of quiet domestic
+happiness embodied to me all the earthly bliss allotted by God to
+Christian husbands and wives. Of a love which is merely incidental,
+something in common with all the other interests of life, and which
+when it comes in conflict with them, must move aside and wait till it
+is permitted to assert itself again, of such a love I had no
+conception--at least, not in marriage! True, we know that in the dawn
+of love it is kept secret as something which must be hidden. But this
+is a state of restless torture, which we strive to end as soon as
+possible by a marriage. That such a condition of affairs would be
+possible in marriage would never have entered my mind, and say what you
+will, a--marriage like ours is little better than an illegal relation."
+
+The countess started--she had had the same thought that very day.
+
+"And I "--Freyer inexorably continued--"am little more than your lover!
+If you choose to be faithful to me, I shall be grateful, but do not ask
+the 'grandeur' as you call it, of my believing it. Whoever regards
+conjugal duties so lightly--whoever, like you, feels bound by no law
+'which was only made for poor, ordinary people' will keep faith
+only--so long as it is agreeable to do so."
+
+The countess, gazing into vacancy, vainly strove to find a reply.
+
+"This seems very narrow, very ridiculous from your lofty standpoint.
+You see I shall always be rustic. It is a misfortune for you that
+ you came to me. Why did you not remain in your own aristocratic
+circle--gentlemen of noble birth would have understood you far better
+than a poor, plain man like me. I tell myself so daily--it is the worm
+which gnaws at my life. Now you have the 'greatness' you desire, the
+only 'greatness' I can offer--that of the perception of our misery."
+
+Madeleine nodded hopelessly. "Yes, we are in an evil strait. I despair
+more and more of restoring peace between us--for it would be possible
+only in case I could succeed in making you comprehend the necessity of
+the present certainly unnatural form of our marriage. Yet you cannot
+and will not see that a woman like me cannot live in poverty, that
+wealth, though it does not render me happy, is nevertheless
+indispensable, not on account of the money, but because with it honor,
+power, and distinction would be lost. You know that this would follow
+an acknowledgement of our marriage, and I would die rather than resign
+them. I was born to a station too lofty to be content in an humble
+sphere. Do you expect the eagle to descend to a linnet's nest and dwell
+there? It would die, for it can breathe only in the regions for which
+it was created."
+
+"But the eagle should never have stooped to the linnet," said Freyer,
+gloomily.
+
+"I believed that I should find in you a consort, aspiring enough to
+follow me to my heights, for the wings of your genius rustled with
+mighty strokes above me when you hung upon the cross. Oh, can one who,
+like you, has reached the height of the cross, sink to the Philistine
+narrowness of the ideas of the lower classes and thrust aside the
+foaming elixir of love, because it is not proffered in the usual wooden
+bowl of the daily performance of commonplace duties? It is incredible,
+but true. And lastly you threaten that I shall make you an Ecce Homo!
+If you were, it would be no fault of mine but because, even in daily
+life, you could not cease to play the Christ."
+
+The countess had spoken with cutting sharpness and bitterness; it
+seemed as if the knife she turned against the man she loved must be
+piercing her own heart.
+
+Freyer's breath came heavily, but no sound betrayed the anguish of the
+wound he had received. But the child, as if feeling, even in its sleep,
+that its mother was about to sunder, with a fatal blow, the chord of
+life uniting her to the father and itself, quivered in pain and flung
+its little hands into the air, as though to protect the mysterious bond
+whose filaments ran through its heart also.
+
+"See, the child feels our strife and suffers from it!" said Freyer, and
+the unutterable pain in the words swept away all hardness, all
+defiance. The mother, with tearful eyes, sank down beside the bed of
+the suffering child--languishing under the discord between her and its
+father like a tender blossom beneath the warfare of the elements. "My
+child!" she said in a choking voice, "how thin your little hands have
+grown! What does this mean?"
+
+She pressed the boy's transparent little hands to her lips and when she
+looked up again two wonderful dark eyes were gazing at her from the
+child's pale face. Yes, those were the eyes of the infant Redeemer of
+the World in the picture of the Sistine Madonna, the eyes which mirror
+the foreboding of the misery of a world. It was the expression of
+Freyer's, but spiritualized, and as single sunbeams dance upon a dark
+flood, it seemed as if golden rays from his mother's sparkling orbs had
+leaped into his.
+
+What a marvellous child! The mother's delicate beauty, blended with the
+deep earnestness of the father, steeped in the loveliness and
+transfiguration of Raphael. And she could wound the father of this boy
+with cruel words? She could scorn the wonderful soul of Freyer, which
+gazed at her in mute reproach from the eyes of the child, because the
+woe of the Redeemer had impressed upon it indelible traces; disdain it
+beside the bed of this boy, this pledge of a love whose supernatural
+power transformed the man into a god, to rest for a moment in a divine
+embrace? "Mother!" murmured the boy softly, as if in a waking dream;
+but Madeleine von Wildenau felt with rapture that he meant _her_, not
+Josepha. Then he closed his eyes again and slept on.
+
+Kneeling at the son's bedside, she held out her hand to the father; it
+seemed as if a trembling ray of light entered her soul, reflected from
+the moment when he had formerly approached her in all the radiance of
+his power and beauty.
+
+"And _we_ should not love each other?" she said, while binning tears
+flowed down her cheeks. Freyer drew her from, the child's couch,
+clasping her in a close embrace. "My dove!" He could say no more, grief
+and love stifled his voice.
+
+She threw her arms around his neck, as she had done when she made her
+penitent confession with such irresistible grace that he would have
+pardoned every mortal sin. "Forgive me, Joseph," she said softly, in
+order not to wake the boy who, even in sleep, turned his little head
+toward his parents, as a flower sways toward the sun. "I am a poor,
+weak woman; I myself suffer unutterably under the separation from you
+and the child; if you knew how I often feel--a rock would pity me! It
+is a miserable condition--nothing is mine, neither you, my son, nor my
+wealth, unless I sacrifice one for the other, and that I cannot resolve
+to do. Ah, have compassion, on my weakness. It is woman's way to bear
+the most unendurable condition rather than form an energetic resolve
+which might change it. I know that the right course would be for me to
+find courage to renounce the world and say: 'I am married, I will
+resign, as my husband's will requires, the Wildenau fortune; I will
+retire from the stage as a beggar--I will starve and work for my daily
+bread.' I often think how beautiful and noble this would be, and that
+perhaps we might be happy so--happier than we are now--if it were only
+_done_! But when I seriously face the thought, I feel that I cannot do
+it."
+
+"Yet you told me in Ammergau," cried Freyer, "that it was only on your
+father's account that you could not acknowledge the marriage. Your
+father is now a paralytic, half-foolish old man, who cannot live long,
+then this reason will be removed."
+
+"Yes, when we married it _was_ he who prevented me from announcing it;
+I wished to do so, and it would have been easy. But if I state the fact
+now, after having been secretly married eight years, during which I
+have illegally retained the property, I shall stamp myself a cheat.
+Take me to the summit of the Kofel and bid me leap down its thousand
+feet of cliff--I cannot, were it to purchase my eternal salvation. Hurl
+me down--I care not--but do not expect me voluntarily to take the
+plunge, it is impossible. Unless God sends an angel to bear me over the
+chasm on its wings, all pleading will be futile."
+
+She pressed her cheek, burning with the fever of fear, tenderly against
+his: "Have pity on my weakness, forgive me! Ah, I know I am always
+talking about greatness--yet with me it exists only in the imagination.
+I am too base to be capable of what is really noble."
+
+"You see me now, as God Himself beholds me. He will judge me--but it is
+the privilege of marital love to forgive. Will you not use this sweet
+right? Perhaps God will show me some expedient. Perhaps I shall succeed
+in making an agreement with the relatives or gaining the aid of the
+king, but for all this I must live in the world--in order to secure
+influence and scope for my plans. Will you have patience and
+forbearance with me till there is a change?"
+
+"That will never be, any more than during the past eight years.
+But I will bear with you, poor wife; in spite of _everything_ I
+will trust your love, I will try to repress my discontent when you
+come and gratefully accept what you bestow, without remonstrance or
+fault-finding. I will bear it as long as I can. Perhaps--it will wear
+me out, then we shall both be released. I would have removed myself
+from the world long ago--but that would be a sin, and would not have
+benefited you. Your heart is too kind not to be wounded and the
+suicide's bloody shade would not have permitted you to enjoy your
+liberty."
+
+"Oh, Heaven, what are you saying! My poor husband, is that your
+condition?" cried the countess, deeply stirred by the tragedy of these
+calmly uttered words. She shuddered at this glimpse of the dark depths
+of his fathomless soul and what, in her opinion, he might lack in
+broadness of view was now supplied by the extent of his suffering; at
+this moment he again interested her. Throwing herself on his breast,
+she overwhelmed him with caresses. She sought to console him, make him
+forget the bitterness of his grief by the magic potion of her love. She
+herself did not know that even now--carried away by a genuine emotion
+of compassion--she was yielding to the demoniac charm of trying upon
+his pain the power of her coquetry, which she had long since tested
+sufficiently upon _human beings_. But where she would undoubtedly have
+succeeded with men of cultivation, she failed with this child of
+nature, who instinctively felt that this sweet display of tenderness
+was not meant for him but was called forth by the struggle against a
+hostile element which she desired to bribe or conquer. His grief
+remained unchanged; it was too deeply rooted to be dispelled by the
+love-raptures of a moment. Yet the poor husband, languishing for the
+wife so ardently beloved, took the poisoned draught she offered, as the
+thirsting traveller in the desert puts his burning lips to the tainted
+pool whence he knows he is drinking death.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XX.
+
+                               CONFLICTS.
+
+
+It was morning! The lamp had almost burned out! Josepha and the
+countess were busied with the boy, whose sleep was disturbed by a
+short, dry cough. The mother had remained at the little castle all
+night and rested only a few hours. When with the little one there were
+times when her maternal affection was roused. Then she was seized with
+dread lest God should recall a precious gift because she had not known
+its value. It would be only just, she was aware of that--and because of
+its justice it seemed probable, and her heart strove to make amends in
+a few hours for the neglect of years. Perhaps thereby she might escape
+the punishment. But when she had gone, the little pale star in her
+horizon receded into the background before the motley phenomena of the
+world in which she lived, and only in isolated moments did she realize,
+by a dull pain, that feelings were slumbering within her soul which
+could not be developed--like a treasure which lies concealed in a spot
+whence it cannot be raised. It was akin to the parable of the servant
+who did not put out his talent at interest. This talent which God
+entrusted to men is _love_. A lofty noble sentiment which we suppress
+is the buried treasure which God will require of us, when the period
+for which He loaned it has expired. There were hours when the unhappy
+woman realized this. Then she accused everything--the world and
+herself! And the poor little child felt in his precocious soul the
+grief of the "beautiful lady," in whom he presciently loved his mother
+without knowing that it was she. Ordinary children, like animals, love
+best those who provide for their physical wants and therefore
+frequently cling more fondly to the nurse than to the mother. Not so
+this boy. He was almost ungrateful to Josepha, who nursed him the more
+faithfully, the more he was neglected by the countess.
+
+Josepha was passionately attached to the boy. All the sorrowful love
+which she had kept in her desolate heart for her own dead son was
+transferred from the first hour to this delicate, motherless creature.
+It reminded her so much of her own poor child: the marked family
+likeness between him and Freyer--the mystery with which he must be
+surrounded. A mother who was ashamed of him, like Josepha at the
+time--it seemed as though her own dead child had returned to life. And
+besides she passed for his mother.
+
+The boy was born while the countess was travelling in the East, and it
+was an easy matter to arrange with the authorities. The countess, while
+in Jerusalem, took the name of Josepha Freyer--Josepha that of Countess
+Wildenau, and the child was baptized under the name of Freyer. It was
+entered in the register as an illegitimate child, and Josepha bore the
+disgrace and returned to Germany as the boy's mother.
+
+What was lacking to complete Josepha's illusion that the child was
+hers, and that she might love it as a mother? Nothing, save the return
+of her affection. And this was a source of bitter pain. She might give
+and do what she would, devote her days and nights to him, sacrifice her
+already failing health--nothing availed. When after weeks and months of
+absence the "beautiful lady," as he called her, came, his melancholy
+eyes brightened and he seemed to glow with new life as he stretched
+out his little arms to her with a look that appeared to say: "Had
+you not come soon, I should have died!" Josepha no longer existed
+for him, and even his father, whom he usually loved tenderly as his
+god-father--"Goth," as the people in that locality call it--was
+forgotten. This vexed Josepha beyond endurance. She performed a
+mother's duties in all their weariness, her heart cherished a mother's
+love with all its griefs and cares and, when that other woman came, who
+deserved nothing, did nothing, had neither a mother's heart nor a
+mother's rights--she took the child away and Josepha had naught save
+the trouble and the shame! The former enjoyed hurriedly, lightly,
+carelessly, the joys which alone could have repaid Josepha's
+sacrifices, the child's sweet smiles, tender caresses, and coaxing
+ways, for which she would have given her life. She ground her sharp
+white teeth and a secret jealousy, bordering on hatred, took root in
+her embittered mind. What could she esteem in this woman? For what
+should she be grateful to her? She was kind to her--because she needed
+her services--but what did she care for Josepha herself! "She might
+give me less, but do her duty to her husband and child--that would suit
+me better," she secretly murmured. "To have such a child and not be a
+mother to him, not give him the sunshine, the warmth of maternal love
+which he needs--and then come and take away from another what she would
+not earn for herself."
+
+To have such a husband, the highest blessing Josepha knew on earth--a
+man to whom the whole world paid homage as if to God, a man so devout,
+so good, so modest, so faithful--and desert him, conceal him in a
+ruinous old castle that no one might note the disgrace of the noble
+lady who had married a poor wood-carver! And then to come and snatch
+the kisses from his lips as birds steal berries, when no one was
+looking, he was good enough for that! And he permitted it--the proud,
+stern man, whom the whole community feared and honored. It was enough
+to drive one mad.
+
+And she, Josepha, must swallow her wrath year after year--and dared not
+say anything--for woe betide her if she complained of the countess! He
+would allow no attack upon her--though this state of affairs was
+killing him. She was forced to witness how he grieved for this woman,
+see him gradually lose flesh and strength, for the wicked creature
+bewitched every one, and charmed her husband and child till they were
+fairly dying of love for her, while she was carrying on her shameless
+flirtations with others.
+
+Such were the terrible accusations raging in Josepha's passionate soul
+against the countess, charges which effaced the memory of all she owed
+her former benefactress.
+
+"I should like to know what she would do without me" was the constant
+argument of her ungrateful hatred. "She may well be kind to me--if I
+chose, her wicked pranks would soon be over. She would deserve it--and
+what do I care for the pay? I can look after myself, I don't need the
+ill-gotten gains. But--then I should be obliged to leave the boy--he
+would have no one. No, no, Josepha, hold out as long as possible--and
+be silent for the child's sake."
+
+Such were the conflicts seething in the breast of the silent dweller in
+the hunting-castle, such the gulfs yawning at the unsuspicious woman's
+feet.
+
+It was the vengeance of insulted popular morality, to which she
+imagined herself so far superior. This insignificant impulse in the
+progress of the development of mankind, insignificant because it was
+the special attribute of the humble plain people, will always conquer
+in the strife against the emancipation of so-called "more highly
+organized" natures, for it is the destiny of individual giants always
+to succumb in the war against ordinary mortals. Here there is a great,
+eternal law of the universe, which from the beginning gathered its
+contingent from the humble, insignificant elements, and in so-called
+"plebian morality" is rooted--Christianity. Therefore, the former
+will conquer and always assert its right, even where the little
+Philistine army, which gathers around its standard, defeats a far
+nobler foe than itself, a foe for whom the gods themselves would mourn!
+Woe betide the highly gifted individuality which unites with Philistine
+elements--gives them rights over it, and believes it can still pursue
+its own way--in any given case it will find pity before _God_, sooner
+than before the judgment seat of this literal service, and the spears
+and shafts of its yeomanry.
+
+Something like one of these lance-thrusts pierced the countess from
+Josepha's eyes, as she bent over the waking child.
+
+Josepha tried to take the boy, but he struggled violently and would not
+go to her. With sparkling, longing eyes he nestled in the arms of the
+"beautiful lady." The countess drew the frail little figure close to
+her heart. As she did so, she noticed the stern, resentful expression
+of Josepha's dry cracked lips and the hectic flush on the somewhat
+prominent cheek bones. There was something in the girl's manner which
+displeased her mistress. Had it been in her power, she would have
+dismissed this person, who "was constantly altering for the worse." But
+she was bound to her by indissoluble fetters, nay, was dependent upon
+her--and must fear her. She felt this whenever she came. Under such
+impressions, every visit to the castle had gradually become a penance,
+instead of a pleasure. Her husband, out of humor and full of
+reproaches, the child ill, the nurse sullen and gloomy. A spoiled child
+of the world, who had always had everything disagreeable removed from
+her path, could not fail at last to avoid a place where she could not
+breathe freely a single hour.
+
+"Will you not get the child's breakfast, Josepha?" she said wearily,
+the dark circles around her eyes bearing traces of her night vigil.
+
+"He must be bathed first!" said Josepha, in the tone which often
+wounded the countess--the tone by which nurses, to whose charge
+children are left too much, instruct young mothers that, "if they take
+no care of their little ones elsewhere, they have nothing to say in the
+nursery."
+
+The countess, with aristocratic self-control, struggled to maintain her
+composure. Then she said quietly, though her voice sounded faint and
+hoarse: "The child seems weak, I think it will be better to give him
+something to eat before washing him."
+
+"Yes," pleaded the little fellow, "I am thirsty." The words reminded
+the countess of his father, as he said on the cross: "I thirst." When
+these memories came, all the anguish of her once beautiful love--now
+perishing so miserably--overwhelmed her. She lifted the boy--he was
+light as a vapor, a vision of mist--from the bed into her lap, and
+wrapped his little bare feet in the folds of her morning dress. He
+pressed his little head, crowned with dark, curling locks, against her
+cheek. Such moments were sweet, but outweighed by too much bitterness.
+
+"Bring him some milk--fresh milk!" Madeleine von Wildenau repeated in the
+slightly imperious tone which seems to consider opposition impossible.
+
+"That will be entirely different from his usual custom," remarked
+Josepha, as if the countess' order had seriously interfered with the
+regular mode of life necessary to the child.
+
+The mother perceived this, and a faint flush of shame and indignation
+suffused her face, but instantly vanished, as if grief had consumed the
+wave of blood which wrath had stirred.
+
+"Is your mother--Josepha--kind to you?" she asked, when Josepha had
+left the room.
+
+The boy nodded carelessly.
+
+"She does not strike you, she is gentle?"
+
+"No, she doesn't strike me," the little fellow answered. "She loves
+me."
+
+"Do you love her, too?" the countess went on.
+
+"Wh--y--Yes!" said the child, shrugging his shoulders. Then he looked
+tenderly into her face. "I love you better."
+
+"That is not right, Josepha is your mother--you must love her best."
+
+The boy shook his head thoughtfully. "But I would rather have you for
+my mamma."
+
+"That cannot be--unfortunately--I must not."
+
+The child gazed at her with an expression of sorrowful disappointment.
+=At last he found an expedient. "But in Heaven--when I go to
+Heaven--_you_ will be my mother there, won't you?"
+
+The countess shuddered--an indescribable pain pierced her heart, yet
+she was happy, a blissful anguish! Tears streamed from her eyes and,
+clasping the child tenderly, she gently kissed him.
+
+"Yes, my child! In Heaven--perhaps I may be your mother!"
+
+Josepha now brought in the milk and wanted to give it to him, but the
+boy would not take it from her, he insisted that the countess must hold
+the bowl. She did so, but her hand trembled and Josepha was obliged to
+help her, or the whole contents would have been spilled. She averted
+her face.
+
+"She cannot even give her child anything to drink," thought Josepha, as
+she moved about the room, putting it in order.
+
+"Josepha, please leave me alone a little while," said the countess,
+almost beseechingly.
+
+"Indeed?" Josepha's cheeks flushed scarlet, it seemed as if the bones
+grew still more prominent. "If I am in your Highness' way--I can go at
+once."
+
+"Josepha!" said the countess, now suddenly turning toward her a face
+wet with tears. "Surely I might be allowed to spend fifteen minutes
+alone with my child without offending any one! I will forgive your
+words--on account of your natural jealousy--and I think you already
+regret them, do you not?"
+
+"Yes," replied Josepha, somewhat reluctantly, but so conquered by the
+unhappy mother's words that she pressed a hard half reluctant kiss upon
+the countess' hand with her rough, parched lips. Then, with a
+passionate glance at the child, she gave place to the mother whose
+claim she would fain have disputed before God Himself, if she could.
+
+But when the door had closed behind her, the countess could bear no
+more. Placing the child in his little bed, she flung herself sobbing
+beside it. "My child--my child, forgive me," she cried, forgetting all
+prudence "--pray for me to God."
+
+Just at that moment the door opened and Freyer entered. All that was
+stirring the mother's heart instantly became clear to him, as he saw
+her thus broken down beside the boy's bed.
+
+"Calm yourself--what will the child think!" he said, bending down and
+raising her.
+
+"Don't cry, Mamma!" said the boy, stroking the soft hair on the
+grief-bowed head. He did not know why he now suddenly called her
+"mamma"--perhaps it was a prospect of the heaven where she would be his
+mother, and he said it in advance.
+
+"Oh, Freyer, kill me--I am worthy of nothing better--cut short the
+battle of a wasted life! An animal which cannot recover is killed out
+of pity, why not a human being, who feels suffering doubly?"
+
+"Magdalena--Countess--I do not know you in this mood."
+
+"Nor do I know myself! What am I? What is a mother who is no mother--a
+wife who cannot declare herself a wife? A fish that cannot swim, a bird
+that cannot fly! We kill such poor crippled creatures out of sheer
+compassion. What kind of existence is mine? An egotist who nevertheless
+feels the pain of those whom she renders unhappy; an aristocrat who
+cannot exist outside of her own sphere and yet pines for the eternal
+verity of human nature; a coquette who trifles with hearts and yet
+would _die_ for a genuine feeling--these are my traits of character!
+Can there be anything more contradictory, more full of wretchedness?"
+
+"Let us go out of doors, Countess, such conversation is not fit for the
+child to hear."
+
+"Oh, he does not understand it."
+
+"He understands more than you believe, you do not know what questions
+he often asks--ah, you deprive yourself of the noblest joys by being
+unable to watch the remarkable development of this child."
+
+She nodded silently, absorbed in gazing at the boy.
+
+"Come, Countess, the sun has risen--the cool morning air will do you
+good, I will ring for Josepha to take the boy," he said quietly,
+touching the bell.
+
+The little fellow sat up in bed, his breathing was hurried and anxious,
+his large eyes were fixed imploringly on the countess: "Oh, mamma--dear
+mamma in Heaven--stay--don't go away."
+
+"Ah, if only I could--my child--how gladly I would stay here always.
+But I will come back again presently, I will only walk in the sunshine
+for half-an-hour."
+
+"Oh, I would like to go in the sunshine, too. Can't I go with you, and
+run about a little while?"
+
+"Not to-day, not until your cough is cured, my poor little boy! But
+I'll promise to talk and think of nothing but you until I return!
+Meanwhile Josepha shall wash and dress you, I don't understand
+that--Josepha can do it better."
+
+"Oh! yes, I'm good enough for that!" thought the girl, who heard the
+last words just as she entered.
+
+"My beautiful mamma has been crying, because she is a bird and can't
+fly--" said the child to Josepha with sorrowful sympathy. "But you
+can't fly either--nor I till we are angels--then we can!" He spread out
+his little arms like wings as if he longed to soar upward and away, but
+an attack of coughing made him sink back upon his pillows.
+
+The husband and wife looked at each other with the same sorrowful
+anxiety.
+
+The countess bent over the little bed as if she would fain stifle with
+kisses the cough that racked the little chest.
+
+"Mamma, it doesn't hurt--you must not cry," said the boy, consolingly.
+"There is a spider inside of my breast which tickles me--so I have to
+cough. But it will spin a big, big net of silver threads like those on
+the Christmas tree which will reach to Heaven, then I'll climb up on
+it!"
+
+The countess could scarcely control her emotion. Freyer drew her hand
+through his arm and led her out into the dewy morning.
+
+"You are so anxious about our secret and yet, if _I_ were not
+conscientious enough to help you guard it, you would betray yourself
+every moment, you are imprudent with the child, it is not for my own
+interest, but yours that I warn you. Do not allow your newly awakened
+maternal love to destroy your self-control in the boy's presence. Do
+not let him call you 'Mamma.' Poor mother--indeed I understand how this
+wounds you--but--it must be one thing or the other. If you cannot--or
+_will_ not be a mother to the child--you _must_ renounce this name."
+
+She bowed her head. "You are as cruel as ever, though you are right!
+How can I maintain my self-control, when I hear such words from the
+child? What a child he is! Whenever I come, I marvel at his
+intellectual progress! If only it is natural, if only it is not the
+omen of an early death!"
+
+Freyer pitied her anxiety,
+
+"It is merely because the child is reared in solitude, associating
+solely with two sorrowing people, Josepha and myself; it is natural
+that his young soul should develop into a graver and more thoughtful
+character than other children," he said, consolingly.
+
+They had gone out upon a dilapidated balcony, overgrown with vines and
+bushes. It was a beautiful morning, but the surrounding woods and the
+mouldering autumn leaves were white with hoar frost. Freyer wrapped the
+shivering woman in a cloak which he had taken with him. Under the cold
+breath of the bright fall morning, and her husband's cheering words,
+she gradually grew calm and regained her composure.
+
+"But something must be done with the child," she said earnestly.
+"Matters cannot go on so, he looks too ethereal.--I will send him to
+Italy with Josepha."
+
+"Good Heavens, then I shall be entirely alone!" said Freyer, with
+difficulty suppressing his dismay.
+
+"Yet it must be," replied the countess firmly.
+
+"How shall I endure it? The child was my all, my good angel--my light
+in darkness! Often his little hands have cooled my brow when the flames
+of madness were circling around it. Often his eyes, his features have
+again revealed your image clearly when, during a long separation, it
+had become blurred and distorted. While gazing at the child, the dear,
+beautiful child, I felt that nothing could sever this sacred bond. The
+mother of this boy could not desert her husband--for the sake of this
+child she must love me! I said to myself, and learned to trust, to
+hope, once more. And now I am to part from him. Oh, God!--Thy judgment
+is severe. Thou didst send an angel to comfort Thy divine son on the
+Mount of Olives--Thou dost take him from me! Yet not my will, but
+Thine, be done!"
+
+He bent his head sadly: "If it must be, take him."
+
+"The child is ill, I have kept him shut up in these damp rooms too
+long, he needs sunshine and milder air. If he were obliged to spend
+another winter in this cold climate, it would be his death. But if it
+is so hard for you to be separated from the boy--go with him. I will
+hire a villa for you and Josepha somewhere on the Riviera. It will do
+you good, too, to leave this nook hidden among the woods--and I cannot
+shelter you here in Bavaria where every one knows you, without
+betraying our relation."
+
+Freyer gazed at her with a mournful smile: "And you think--that I would
+go?" He shook his head. "No, I cannot make it so easy for you. We are
+still husband and wife, I am still yours, as you are mine. And though
+you so rarely come to me--if during the whole winter there was but a
+single hour when you needed a heart, you must find your husband's, I
+must be here!" He drew her gently to his breast. "No, my wife, it would
+have been a comfort, if I could have kept the child--but if you must
+take him from me, I will bear this, too, like everything which comes
+from your hand, be it life or death--nothing shall part me from you,
+not even love for my boy."
+
+There was something indescribable in the expression with which he gazed
+at her as he uttered the simple words, and she clung to him overwhelmed
+by such unexampled fidelity, which thus sacrificed the only, the last
+blessing he possessed for a _single_ hour with her.
+
+"My husband--my kind, noble husband! The most generous heart in all the
+world!" she cried, caressing him again and again as she gazed
+rapturously at the beautiful face, so full of dignity: "You shall not
+make the sacrifice for a single hour, your wife will come and reward
+your loyalty with a thousand-fold greater love. Often--often. Perhaps
+oftener than ever! For I feel that the present condition of affairs
+cannot last. I must be permitted to be wife and mother--I realized
+to-day at the bedside of my child that my _guilt_, too, was growing
+year by year. It is time for me to atone. When I return home I will
+seriously consider what can be done to make an arrangement with my
+relatives! I need not confess that I am already married--I could say
+that I might marry if they would pay me a sufficient sum, but I would
+_not_ do so, if they refused me the means to live in a style which
+befitted my rank. Then they will probably prefer to make a sacrifice
+which would enable me to marry, thereby giving them the whole property,
+rather than to compel me, by their avarice, to remain a widow and keep
+the entire fortune. That would be a capital idea! Do you see how
+inventive love is?" she said with charming coquetry, expecting his
+joyful assent.
+
+But he turned away with clouded brow--it seemed as though an icy wind
+had suddenly swept over the whole sunny landscape, transforming
+everything into a wintry aspect.
+
+"Falsehood and deception everywhere--even in the most sacred things.
+When I hear you speak so, my heart shrinks! So noble a woman as you to
+stoop to falsehood and deceit, like one of the basest!"
+
+The countess stood motionless, with downcast lids, shame and pride were
+both visible on her brow. Her heart, too, shrank, and an icy chill
+encompassed it.
+
+"And what better proposal would you make?"
+
+"None!" said Freyer in a low tone, "for the only one I could suggest
+you would not accept. It would be to atone for the wrong you have
+committed, frankly confess how everything happened, and then retire
+with your husband and child into solitude and live plainly, but
+honestly. The world would laugh at you, it is true, but the
+noble-hearted would honor you. I cannot imagine that any moral
+happiness is to be purchased by falsehood and deceit--there is but one
+way which leads to God--the way of truth--every other is delusive!"
+
+The beautiful woman gazed at him in involuntary admiration. This was
+the inward majesty by which the lowly man had formerly so awed her; and
+deeply as he shamed and wounded her, she bowed to this grandeur. Yet
+she could no longer bear his gaze, she felt humbled before him, her
+pleasure in his companionship was destroyed. She stood before the man
+whom she believed so far beneath her, like a common criminal, convicted
+of the most petty falsehood, the basest treachery. She fairly loathed
+herself. Where was there anything to efface this brand? Where was the
+pride which could raise her above this disgrace? In her consciousness
+of rank? Woe betide her, what would her peers say if they knew her
+position? Would she not be cast out from every circle? What was there
+which would again restore her honor? She knew no dignity, no honor save
+those which the world bestows, and to save them, at any cost and by any
+means--she sank still lower in her own eyes and those of the poor, but
+honorable man who had more cause to be ashamed of her than she of him.
+
+She must return home, she must again see her palace, her servants, her
+world, in order to believe that she was still herself, that the ground
+was still firm under her feet, for everything in and around her was
+wavering.
+
+"Please order the horses to be harnessed!" she said, turning toward the
+half ruined door through which they had come out of the house.
+
+It had indeed grown dull and cold. A pallid autumnal fog was shrouding
+the forest. It looked doubtful whether it was going to rain or snow.
+
+"I have the open carriage--I should like to get home before it rains,"
+she said, apologetically, without looking at him.
+
+Freyer courteously opened the heavy ancient iron door. They walked
+silently along a dark, cold, narrow passage to the door of the boy's
+room.
+
+"I will go and have the horses harnessed," said Freyer, and the
+countess entered the chamber.
+
+She took an absent leave of the child. She did not notice how he
+trembled at the news that she was going home, she did not hear him
+plead: "Take me with you!" She comforted him as usual with the promise
+that she would soon come again, and beckoned Josepha out of the room.
+The boy gazed after her with the expression of a dying roe, and a few
+large tears rolled down his pale cheeks. The mother saw it, but she
+could not remain, her stay here was over for that day. Outside she
+informed Josepha of the plan of sending her and the child to Italy, but
+the latter shook her head.
+
+"The child needs nothing but its mother," she said, pitilessly, "it
+longs only for _you_, and if you send it still farther away, it will
+die."
+
+The countess stood as if sentenced.
+
+"When you are with him, he revives, and when you have gone, he droops
+like a flower without the sun!"
+
+"Oh Heaven!" moaned the countess, pressing her clasped hands to her
+brow: "What is to be done!"
+
+"If you could take the boy, it would be the best cure. The child need's
+a mother's love; that would be more beneficial to him than all the
+travelling in the world. You have no idea how he clings to his mother.
+It really seems as if you had bewitched him. All day long he wears
+himself out listening and watching for the roll of the carriage, and
+when evening comes and the hour that you usually drive up arrives, his
+little hands are burning with fever from expectation. And then he sees
+how his father longs for you. A child like him notices everything and,
+when his father is sad, he is sorrowful, too. 'She is not coming
+to-day!' he said a short time ago, stroking his father's cheek; he knew
+perfectly well what troubled him. A delicate little body like his is
+soon worn out by constant yearning. Every kid, every fawn, cries for
+its mother. Here in the woods I often hear the young deer, whose mother
+has been shot, wail and cry all night long, and must not a child who
+has sense and affection long for its mother? You sit in your beautiful
+rooms at home and don't hear how up here in this dreary house with us
+two melancholy people, the poor child asks for the mother who is his
+all."
+
+"Josepha, you will kill me!"
+
+The countess clung to the door-post for support, her brain fairly
+whirled.
+
+"No, I shall not kill you, Countess, I only want to prevent your
+killing the child," said Josepha with flaming eyes. "Do you suppose
+that, if I could supply a mother's place to the boy, I would beg you
+for what is every child's right, and which every mother who has a
+mother's heart in her breast would give of her own accord? Certainly
+not. I would _steal_ the child's heart, which you are starving--ere I
+would give you one kind word, and you might beg in vain for your son's
+love, as I now beseech his mother's for him. But the poor little fellow
+knows very well who his mother is, and no matter what I do--he will not
+accept me! That is why I tell you just how matters are. Do what you
+choose with me--I no longer fear anything--if the child cannot be saved
+I am done with the world! You know me--and know that I set no value on
+life. You have made it no dearer to me than it was when we first met."
+
+Just at that moment the door opened and a small white figure appeared.
+The boy had heard Josepha's passionate tone and came to his mother's
+assistance: "Mamma, my dear mamma in Heaven, what is she doing to you?
+She shan't hurt you. Wicked mamma Josepha, that's why I don't like you,
+you are always scolding the beautiful, kind lady."
+
+He threw his little arm around his mother's neck, as if to protect her.
+
+"Oh, you angel!" cried the countess, lifting him in her arms to press
+him to her heart.
+
+The rattle of wheels was heard outside--the countess' four horses were
+coming. To keep the fiery animals waiting was impossible. Freyer
+hastily announced the carriage, the horses were very unruly that day.
+The countess gave the boy to Josepha's care. Freyer silently helped her
+into the equipage, everything passed like a flash of lightning for the
+horses were already starting--one gloomy glace was exchanged between
+the husband and wife--the farewell of strangers--and away dashed the
+light vehicle through the autumn mists. The mother fancied she heard
+her boy weeping as she drove off, and felt as if Josepha had convicted
+her of the murder of the child. But she would atone for it--some
+day--soon! It seemed as if a voice within was crying aloud: "My child,
+my child!" An icy moisture stood in drops upon her brow; was it the
+sweat of anxiety, or dew? She did not know, she could no longer think,
+she was sinking under all the anxieties which had pressed upon her that
+day. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the carriage as if
+fainting, while the horses rushed swiftly on with their light burden
+toward their goal.
+
+The hours flew past. The equipage drove up to the Wildenau palace, but
+she was scarcely conscious of it. All sorts of plans and resolutions
+were whirling through her brain. She was assisted from the carriage and
+ascended the carpeted marble stairs. Two letters were lying on the
+table in her boudoir. The prince had been there and left one, a note,
+which contained only the words: "You will perceive that at the present
+time you _dare_ not refuse this position.
+
+                             "_The friend who means most kindly_."
+
+The other letter, in a large envelope, was an official document.
+Countess Wildenau had been appointed mistress of ceremonies!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI.
+
+                             UNACCOUNTABLE.
+
+
+A moment--and a turning point in a life!
+
+The countess was "herself" again, as she called it. "Thank God!"
+
+The Ammergau episode--with all its tragic consequences--belonged to the
+past. To-day, under the emotional impressions and external
+circumstances at that luckless castle, where everything conspired
+against her, she had thought seriously of breaking with her traditions
+and the necessities of life, faced the thought of poverty and shame so
+boldly that this appointment to the highest position at court saved her
+from the gulf of ruin. Stopped at the last moment, tottering, giddy,
+the startled woman sought to find a firm footing once more. She felt
+like a suicide, who is not really in earnest, and rejoices when some
+one prevents his design.
+
+She stood holding the document in her hand. This was truth, reality,
+the necessity for self-destruction was imagination. The disgrace whose
+brand she already felt upon her brow could no longer approach her!
+
+She set her foot upon the shaggy skin of a lion--the earth did not yet
+reel beneath her. She pressed her burning brow against a slender marble
+column--this, too, was still firm! She passed her slender fingers over
+the silk plush of the divan on which she reclined and rejoiced that it
+was still hers. Her eye, intoxicated with beauty, wandered over the
+hundreds of art-treasures, pictures and statues from every land with
+which she had adorned her rooms--nothing was lacking. Upon a pedestal
+stood the Apollo Belvedere, whose pure marble glowed warmly in a
+sunbeam shining through red curtains, as if real blood were circulating
+in the stone. The wondrous face smiled in divine repose upon the motley
+array, which the art and industry of centuries had garnered here.
+
+The past and the present here closed their bewitching chain. Yonder
+stood a Venus de Milo, revealing to the charming owner the majesty of
+her own beauty. In a corner filled with flowers, a bathing nymph, by a
+modern master, timidly concealed herself. In a Gothic niche a dying
+Christ closed his eyes to the splendor of the world and the senses.
+It was a Christ after the manner of Gabriel Max, which opened and
+shut its eyes. Not far away the portrait of the countess, painted
+with the genius of Lenbach stood forth from the dark frame--the
+type of a drawing-room blossom. Clad in a soft white robe of Oriental
+stuff embroidered with gold, heavy enough to cling closely to the
+figure--flight enough to float away so far as to reveal all that
+fashion and propriety permitted to be seen of the beauty of a wonderful
+neck and arm. And, as Lenbach paints not only the outward form but the
+inward nature, a tinge of melancholy, of yearning and thoughtfulness
+rested upon the fair face, which made the beholder almost forget the
+beauty of the form in that of the soul, while gazing into the spiritual
+eyes which seemed to seek some other home than this prosaic earth. Just
+in the direction of her glance, Hermes, the messenger of death, bent
+his divine face from a group of palms and dried grasses. It seemed as
+if she beheld all these things for the first time--as if they had been
+newly given back to her that day after she had believed them lost. Her
+breath almost failed at the thought that she had been on the point of
+resigning it all--and for what? All these treasures of immortal beauty
+and art--for a weeping child and a surly man, who loved in her only the
+housewife, which any maid-servant can be, but understood what she
+really was, what really constituted her dignity and charm no more than
+he would comprehend Lenbach's picture, which reflected to her her own
+person transfigured and ennobled. She gazed at herself with proud
+satisfaction. Should such a woman sacrifice herself to a man who
+scarcely knew the meaning of beauty! Destroy herself for an illusion of
+the imagination? She rang the bell--she felt the necessity of ordering
+something, to be sure that she was still mistress of the house.
+
+The lackey entered. "Your Highness?"
+
+Thank Heaven! Her servants still obeyed her.
+
+"Send over to the Barnheim Palace, and invite the Prince to dine with
+me at six. Then serve lunch."
+
+"Very well. Has Your Highness any other orders?"
+
+"The maid."
+
+"Yes, Your Highness."
+
+The man left the room with the noiseless, solemn step of a well-trained
+lackey.
+
+"How can any one live without servants?" the countess asked herself,
+looking after him. "What should I have done, if I had dismissed mine?"
+She shuddered. Now that regal luxury again surrounded her she was a
+different person from this morning. No doubt she still felt what she
+had suffered that day, but only as we dimly, after waking from a
+fevered dream, realize the tortures we have endured.
+
+Some one knocked, and the maid entered.
+
+"I will take a bath before lunch. I feel very ill. Pour a bottle of
+_vinaigre de Bouilli_ into the water. I will come directly."
+
+The maid disappeared.
+
+Everything still went on like clock-work. Nothing had changed--no one
+noticed what she had _almost_ done that day. The struggle was over. The
+royal order, which it would have been madness to oppose, had determined
+her course.
+
+But her nerves were still quivering from the experiences of the day.
+
+The child, if only she were not hampered by the child! That was the
+only thing which would not allow her to breathe freely--it was her own
+flesh and blood. That was the wound in her heart which could never be
+healed. She would always long for the boy--as he would for her. Yet,
+what did this avail, nothing could be changed, she must do what reason
+and necessity required. At least for the present; nay, there was even
+something beautiful in a sorrow borne with aristocratic dignity! By the
+depth of the wound, we proudly measure the depth of our own hearts.
+
+She pleased herself with the idea of doing the honors as mistress of
+ceremonies to kings and emperors, while yearning in the depths of
+her soul for a poor orphaned child, the son of the proud Countess
+Wildenau--whose husband was a peasant. Only a nature of the elasticity
+of Madeleine von Wildenau's could sink so low and yet soar so high,
+without losing its equilibrium.
+
+These were the oscillations which Ludwig Gross once said were necessary
+to such natures--though their radii passed through the lowest gulfs of
+human misery to the opposite heights. Coquetry is not only cruel to
+others, but to itself--in the physical tortures which it endures for
+the sake of an uncomfortable fashion, and the spiritual ones with which
+it pays for its triumphs.
+
+This was the case with the countess. During her first unhappy marriage
+she had learned to control the most despairing moods and be "amusing"
+with an aching heart. What marvel that she deemed it a matter of course
+that she must subdue the gnawing grief of her maternal love. So she
+coquetted even with suffering and found pleasure in bearing it
+gracefully.
+
+She sat down at her writing-desk, crowned with Canova's group of Cupid
+and Psyche, and wrote:
+
+"My dear husband! In my haste I can only inform you that I shall be
+unable to come out immediately to arrange Josepha's journey. I have
+been appointed mistress of ceremonies to the queen and must obey the
+summons. Meanwhile, let Josepha prepare for the trip, I will send the
+directions for the journey and the money to-day. Give the boy my love,
+kiss him for me, and comfort him with the promise that I will visit him
+in the Riviera when I can. Amid the new scenes he will soon forget me
+and cease waiting and expecting. The Southern climate will benefit his
+health, and we shall have all the more pleasure in him afterward. He
+must remain there at least a year to regain his strength.
+
+"I write hastily, for many business matters and ceremonies must be
+settled within the next few days. It is hard for me to accept this
+position, which binds me still more closely in the fetters I was on the
+eve of stripping off! But to make the king and queen my enemies at the
+very moment when I need powerful friends more than ever, would be
+defying fate! It will scarcely be possible for me now to come out as
+often as I promised you to-day. But, if you become too lonely, you
+can occasionally come in as my 'steward,' ostensibly to bring me
+reports--in this way we shall see each other and I will give orders
+that the steward shall be admitted to me at any time, and have a
+suitable office and apartments assigned to him 'as I shall now be
+unable to look after the estates so much myself.'
+
+"If I cannot receive you at once, you will wait in your room until your
+wife, freed from the restraint and duties of the day, will fly to your
+arms.
+
+"Is not this admirably arranged? Are you at last satisfied, you
+discontented man?
+
+"You see that I am doing all that is possible! Only do not be angry
+with me because I also do what reason demands. I must secure to my
+child the solid foundations of a safe and well-ordered existence, since
+we must not, for the sake of sentiment, aimlessly shatter our own
+destiny. How would it benefit the sick child if I denounced myself and
+was compelled to give up the whole of my private fortune to compensate
+my first husband's relatives for what I have spent illegally since
+my second marriage? I could not even do anything more for my son's
+health, and should be forced to see him pine away in some mountain
+hamlet--perhaps Ammergau itself, whither I should wander with my
+household goods and you, like some vagrant's family. The boys there
+would stone him and call him in mockery, the 'little Count.' The
+snow-storms would lash him and completely destroy his delicate lungs.
+
+"No, if I did not fear poverty for _myself_, I must do so for _you_.
+How would you endure to have the Ammergau people--and where else could
+you find employment--point their fingers at you and say: 'Look, that is
+Freyer, who ran away with a countess! He did a fine thing'--and then
+laugh jeeringly.
+
+"My Joseph! Keep your love for me, and let me have judgment for you,
+then all will be well. In love,
+                                                     Your M."
+
+She did not suspect, when she ended her letter, very well satisfied
+with her dialectics, that Freyer after reading it would throw the torn
+fragments on the floor.
+
+This cold, frivolous letter--this change from the mood of
+yesterday--this act after all her promises! He had again been deceived
+and disappointed, again hoped and believed in vain. All, all on which
+he had relied was destroyed, the moral elevation of his beloved wife,
+which would at last restore to her husband and child their sacred
+rights--was a lie, and instead, by way of compensation, came the
+offer--of the position of a lover.
+
+He was to seek his wife under the cover of the darkness, as a man seeks
+his inamorata--he, her husband, the father of her child! "No, Countess,
+the steward will not steal into your castle, in order when you have
+enjoyed all the pleasures of the day, to afford you the excitement of a
+stolen intrigue.
+
+"Though the scorn and derision of the people of my native village would
+wound me sorely, as you believe--I would rather work with them as a
+day-laborer, than to play before your lackeys the part which you assign
+me." This was his only answer. He was well aware that it would elicit
+only a shrug of the shoulders, and a pitying smile, but he could not
+help it.
+
+It was evening when the countess' letter reached him, and while, by the
+dim light of the hanging lamp, in mortal anguish he composed at the
+bedside of the feverish child this clumsy and unfortunately mis-spelled
+reply, the folding-doors of the brilliantly lighted dining-room in the
+Wildenau palace, were thrown open and the prince offered his arm to the
+countess.
+
+She was her brilliant self again. She had taken a perfumed bath,
+answered the royal letter, made several sketches for new court costumes
+and sent them to Paris.
+
+She painted with unusual skill, and the little water-color figures
+which she sent to her modistes, were real works of art, far superior to
+those in the fashion journals.
+
+"Your Highness might earn your bread in this way"--said the maid
+flatteringly, and a strange thrill stirred the countess at these words.
+She had made herself a costume book, in which she had painted all the
+toilettes she had worn since her entrance into society, and often found
+amusement in turning the leaves; what memories the sight of the old
+clothes evoked! From the heavy silver wrought brocade train of old
+Count Wildenau's young bride, down to the airy little summer gown which
+she had worn nine years ago in Ammergau. From the stiff, regulation
+court costume down to the simple woolen morning gown in which she had
+that morning spent hours of torture on account of that Ammergau
+"delusion." But at the maid's words she shut the book as if startled
+and rose: "I will give you the dress I wore this morning, but on
+condition that I never see it."
+
+"Your Highness is too kind, I thank you most humbly," said the
+delighted woman, kissing the sleeve of the countess' combing-mantle--she
+would not have ventured to kiss her hand.
+
+The dinner toilette was quickly completed, and when the countess looked
+in the glass she seemed to herself more beautiful than ever. The
+melancholy expression around her eyes, and a slight trace of tears
+which she had shed, lent the pale tea-rose a tinge of color which was
+marvellously becoming.
+
+The day was over, and when the prince came to dinner at six o'clock she
+received him with all her former charm.
+
+"To whom do I owe this--Prince?" she said smiling, holding out the
+official letter.
+
+"Why do you ask me?"
+
+"Because _you_ only can tell!"
+
+"I?"
+
+"Yes, you. Who else would have proposed me to their Majesties? Don't
+try to deceive me by that air of innocence. I don't trust it. You, and
+no one else would do me this friendly service, for everything good
+comes through you. You are not only a great and powerful man--you are
+also a good and noble one--my support, my Providence! I thank you."
+
+She took both his hands in hers and offered him her forehead to kiss,
+with a glance of such sincere admiration and gratitude, that in his
+surprise and joy he almost missed the permitted goal and touched her
+lips instead. But fortunately, he recollected himself and almost
+timidly pressed the soft curls which quivered lightly like the delicate
+tendrils of flowers.
+
+"I cannot resist this gratitude! Yes, my august cousin, the queen, did
+have the grace to consider my proposal as 'specially agreeable' to her.
+But, my dear Countess, you must have been passing through terrible
+experiences to lavish such undue gratitude upon the innocent instigator
+of such a trifle as this appointment as mistress of ceremonies, for
+whose acceptance we must be grateful to you. There is a touch of almost
+timidity in your manner, my poor Madeleine, as if you had lost the
+self-control which, with all your feminine grace, gave your bearing so
+firm a poise. You do yourself injustice. You must shake off this
+oppression. That is why I ventured to push the hands of the clock of
+life a little and secured this position, which will leave you no time
+for torturing yourself with fancies. That is what you need most.
+Unfortunately I cannot lift from those beautiful shoulders the burden
+you yourself have probably laid upon them; but I will aid you
+gradually, to strip it off.
+
+"The world in which you are placed needs you--you must live for it and
+ought not to withdraw your powers, your intellect, your charm. You are
+created for a lofty position! I do not mean a subordinate one--that of
+a mistress of ceremonies. This is merely a temporary palliative--I mean
+that of a reigning princess, who has to provide for the physical and
+intellectual welfare of a whole nation. When in your present office you
+have become reconciled to the world and its conditions--perhaps the day
+will come when I shall be permitted to offer you that higher place!"
+
+The countess stood with her hands resting on the table and her eyes
+bent on the floor. Her heart was throbbing violently--her breath was
+short and hurried. _One_ thought whirled through her brain. "You might
+have had all this and forfeited it forever!" The consciousness of her
+marred destiny overwhelmed her with all its power. What a contrast
+between the prince, the perfect product of culture, who took into
+account all the demands of her rank and character, and the narrow,
+limited child of nature, her husband, who found cause for reproach in
+everything which the trained man of the world regarded as a matter of
+course. Freyer tortured her and humbled her in her own eyes, while the
+prince tenderly cherished her. Freyer--like the embodiment of Christian
+asceticism--required from her everything she disliked while Prince Emil
+desired nothing save to see her beautiful, happy, and admired, and made
+it her duty to enjoy life as suited her education and tastes! She would
+fain have thrown herself exultingly into the arms of her preserver and
+said: "Take me and bear me up again on the waves of life ere I fall
+into the power of that gloomy God whose power is nurtured on the blood
+of the murdered joys of His followers."
+
+Suddenly it seemed as if some one else was in the room gazing intently
+at her. She looked up--the eyes of the Christ in the Gothic niche were
+bent fixedly on her. "Are you looking at me again?" asked a voice in
+her terror-stricken soul. "Can you never die?"
+
+It was even so; He could not die on the cross, He cannot die in her
+heart. Even though it was but a moment that He appeared to mortal eyes
+in the Passion Play, He will live for ever to all who experienced that
+moment.
+
+Her uplifted arms fell as if paralyzed, and she faltered in broken
+sentences: "Not another word, Prince--in Heaven's name--do not lead me
+into temptation. Banish every thought of me--you do not know--oh! I was
+never worthy of you, have never recognized all your worth--and now when
+I do--now it is too late." She could say no more, tears were trembling
+on her lashes. She again glanced timidly at the painted Christ--He had
+now closed His eyes. His expression was more peaceful.
+
+The prince gazed at her earnestly, but quietly. "Ah, there is a false
+standpoint which must be removed. It will cost something, I see. Calm
+yourself--you have nothing more to fear from me--I was awkward--it was
+not the proper moment, I ought to have known it. Do you remember our
+conversation nine years ago, on the way to the Passion Play? At that
+time a phantom stood between us. It has since assumed a tangible form,
+has it not? I saw this coming, but unfortunately could not avert it.
+But consider--it is and will always remain--a phantom! Such spectres
+can be fatal only to eccentric imaginative women like you who, in
+addition to imagination, also possess a strongly idealistic tendency
+which impresses an ethical meaning upon everything they feel. With a
+nature like yours things which, in and of themselves, are nothing
+except romantic episodes, assume the character of moral conflicts in
+which you always feel that you are the guilty ones because you were the
+superior and have taken a more serious view of certain relations than
+they deserved."
+
+"Yes, yes! That is it. Oh, Prince--you understand me better than any
+one else!" exclaimed the countess, admiringly.
+
+"Yes, and because I understand you better than any one else, I love you
+better than any one else--that is the inevitable consequence. Therefore
+it would be a pity, if I were obliged to yield to that phantom--for
+never were two human beings so formed for each other as we." He was
+silent, Madeleine had not heard the last words. In her swift variations
+of mood reacting with every changing impression, a different feeling
+had been evoked by the word "phantom" and the memories it awakened.
+Even the cleverest man cannot depend upon a woman. The phantom again
+stood between them--conjured up by himself.
+
+As if by magic, the Kofel with its glittering cross rose before her,
+and opposite at her right hand the glimmering sunbeams stole up the
+cliff till, like shining fingers, they rested on a face whose like she
+had never seen--the eyes, dark yet sparkling, like the night when the
+star led the kings to the child in the manger! There he stood again,
+the One so long imagined, so long desired.
+
+And her enraptured eyes said: "Throughout the whole world I have
+sought you alone." And his replied: "And I you!" And was this to be a
+lie--this to vanish? It seemed as if Heaven had opened its gates and
+suffered her to look in, and was all this to be delusion? The panorama
+of memory moved farther on, leading her past the dwellings of the high
+priest and apostles in Ammergau to the moonlit street where her ear,
+listening reverently, caught the words: This is where Christus lives!
+And she stood still with gasping breath, trembling with expectation of
+the approach of God.
+
+Then the following day--the great day which brought the fulfilment of
+the mighty yearning when she beheld this face "from which the God so
+long sought smiled upon her!" The God whom she had come to seek, to
+confess! What! Could she deny, resign this God, in whose wounds she had
+laid her fingers.
+
+Again she stood in timid reverence, with a glowing heart, while before
+her hovered the pierced, bleeding hand--Heaven and earth turned upon
+the question whether she dared venture to press her lips upon the
+stigma; she did venture, almost swooning from the flood of her
+feelings--and lo, in the kiss the quivering lips felt the throbbing of
+the warm awakening life in the hand of the stern "God," and a feeling
+of exultation stirred within her, "You belong to me! I will steal you
+from the whole human race." And now, scarcely nine years later--must
+the joy vanish, the God disappear, the faith die? What a miserable,
+variable creature is man!
+
+"Dinner is served, and Baron St. Genois has called--shall I prepare
+another place?"
+
+The countess started from her reverie--had she been asleep where she
+stood? Where was she?
+
+The lackey was obliged to repeat the announcement and the question. A
+visitor now? She would rather die--yet Baron St. Genois was an intimate
+friend, he could come to dinner whenever he pleased--he was not to be
+sent away.
+
+She nodded assent to the servant. Her emotions were repressed and
+scattered, her throbbing heart sank feebly back to its usual
+pulsation--pallid despair whispered: "Give up the struggle--you cannot
+be saved!"
+
+A few minutes after the little party were celebrating in the
+brilliantly lighted dining-room in sparkling sack the "event of the
+day," the appointment of the new mistress of ceremonies.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXII.
+
+                             FALLING STARS.
+
+
+"The new mistress of ceremonies isn't popular."
+
+"Countess Wildenau is said to have fallen into disgrace already; she
+did not ride in the queen's carriage at the recent great parade."
+
+"That is perfectly natural. It was to be expected, when a lady so
+unaccustomed to put any constraint upon herself as Countess Wildenau
+was appointed to such a position."
+
+"She is said to make constant blunders. If she chooses, she keeps the
+queen and the whole court waiting. She is reported to have arrived at
+court fifteen minutes too late a short time ago."
+
+"And to have forgotten to present a number of ladies."
+
+"People are indignant with her."
+
+"Poor woman, she takes infinite trouble, but the place is not a
+suitable one for her--she is absent-minded and makes mistakes, which
+are unpardonable in a mistress of ceremonies."
+
+"Yes, if the queen's cousin, the Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim
+did not uphold her, the queen would have dropped her long ago. She is
+seen at court only when she is acting as representative. She has not
+succeeded in establishing personal relations with Her Majesty."
+
+Such, at the end of a few months, were the opinions of society, and
+they were just.
+
+It seemed as though the curse of those whom she had deserted, rested
+upon her--do what she would, she had no success in this position.
+
+As on the mountain peak towering into the upper air, every warm current
+condenses into a cloud, so in the cool, transparent atmosphere of very
+lofty and conspicuous positions the faintest breath of secret struggles
+and passions seems to condense into masses of clouds which often gather
+darkly around the most brilliant personalities, veiling their traits.
+The passionate, romantic impulse, which was constantly at war with the
+aristocratic birth and education of the countess, was one of those
+currents which unconsciously and involuntarily must enter as an alien
+element in the crystalline clearness of these peaks of society.
+
+This was the explanation of the mystery that the countess, greatly
+admired in private life and always a welcome guest at court, could not
+fill an official position successfully. The slight cloud which, in her
+private life, only served to surround her with a halo of romance which
+rendered the free independent woman of rank doubly interesting, was
+absolutely unendurable in a lady of the court representing her
+sovereign! There everything must be clear, calm, official. The
+impersonal element of royalty, as it exists in our day, specially in
+the women of reigning houses, will not permit any individuality to make
+itself prominent near the throne. All passionate emotions and
+peculiarities are abhorrent, because, even in individuals, they are
+emanations of the seething popular elements which sovereigns must at
+once rule and fear.
+
+Countess Wildenau's constant excitement, restless glances, absence
+of mind, and feverish alternations of mood unconsciously expressed
+the vengeance of the spirit of the common people insisted in her
+husband--and the queen, in her subtle sensibility, therefore had a
+secret timidity and aversion to the new mistress of ceremonies which
+she could not conquer. Thus the first mists in the atmosphere near the
+throne arose, the vapors gathered into clouds--but the clouds were seen
+by the keen-eyed public--as the sun of royal favor vanished behind
+them.
+
+It is far better never to have been prominent than to be forced to
+retire. The countess was a great lady, whose power seemed immovable and
+unassailable, so long as she lived independently--now it was seen that
+she was on the verge of a downfall! And now there was no occasion for
+further consideration of the woman hitherto so much envied. Vengeance
+could fearlessly be taken upon her for always having handsomer
+toilettes, giving better dinners, attracting more admirers--and being
+allowed to do unpunished what would be unpardonable in others.
+
+"A woman who is continually occupied with herself cannot be mistress of
+ceremonies, I see that clearly," she said one day to the prince. "If
+any position requires self-denial, it is this. And self-denial has
+never been my forte. I ought to have known that before accepting the
+place. People imagine that the court would be the very field where the
+seeds of egotism would flourish most abundantly! It is not true;
+whoever wishes to reap for himself should remain aloof, only the utmost
+unselfishness, the most rigid fulfilment of duty can exist there. But
+I, Prince, am a spoiled, ill-trained creature, who learned nothing
+during the few years of my unhappy marriage save to hate constraint and
+shun pain! What is to be done with such a useless mortal?"
+
+"Love her," replied Prince Emil, as quietly as if he were speaking of a
+game of chess, "and see that she is placed in a position where she need
+not obey, but merely command. Natures created to rule should not serve!
+The pebble is destined to pave the path of daily life--the diamond to
+sparkle. Who would upbraid the latter because it serves no other
+purpose? Its value lies in itself, but only connoisseurs know how to
+prize it!" Thus her friend always consoled her and strengthened her
+natural tendencies. But where men are too indulgent to us, destiny is
+all the more severe--this is the amends for the moral sins of society,
+the equalization of the undeserved privileges of individuals compared
+with the sad fate of thousands.
+
+Prince Emil's efforts could not succeed in soothing the pangs of
+Madeleine von Wildenau's conscience--for he did not know the full
+extent of her guilt. If he knew all, she would lose him, too.
+
+Josepha took care to torture the mother's heart by the reports sent
+from Italy.
+
+Freyer was silent. Since that bitter letter, which he wrote, she had
+heard nothing more from him. He had hidden himself in his solitary
+retreat as a sick lion seeks the depths of its cave, and she dared not
+go to him there, though a secret yearning often made her start from her
+sleep with her husband's name on her lips, and tears in her eyes.
+
+In addition to this she was troubled by Herr Wildenau, who was becoming
+still more urgent in his offers to purchase the hunting-castle, and
+often made strangely significant remarks, as though he was on the track
+of some discovery. The child with the treacherous resemblance was far
+away--but if this man was watching--_that_ fact itself might attract
+his notice because it dated from the day when he made the first
+allusions. She lay awake many nights pondering over this mystery, but
+could not discover what had given him the clew to her secret. She did
+not suspect that it was the child himself who, in an unwatched moment,
+had met the curious stranger and made fatal answers to his cunning
+questions, telling him of "the beautiful lady who came to see 'Goth'
+who had been God--in Ammergau! And that he loved the beautiful lady
+dearly--much better than Mother Josepha!"
+
+Question and answer were easy, but the inference was equally so. It was
+evident to the inquisitor that a relation existed here quite
+compromising enough to serve as a handle against the countess, if the
+exact connection could be discovered. Cousin Wildenau and his brother
+resolved from that day forth to watch the countess' mysterious actions
+sharply--this was the latest and most interesting sport of the
+disinherited branch of the Wildenau family.
+
+But the game they were pursuing had a powerful protector in the prince,
+they must work slowly and cautiously.
+
+At court also it was his influence which sustained her. The queen, out
+of consideration for him, showed the utmost patience in dealing with
+the countess spite of her total absence of sympathy with her. Thus the
+unfortunate woman lived in constant uncertainty. Her soul was filled
+with bitterness by the experiences she now endured. She felt like
+dagger thrusts the malevolence, the contempt with which she had been
+treated since the sun of royal favor had grown dim. She lost her
+self-command, and no longer knew what she was doing. Her pride
+rebelled. A Wildenau, a Princess von Prankenberg, need not tolerate
+such treatment! Her usual graciousness deserted her and, in its place,
+she assumed a cold, haughty scorn, which she even displayed while
+performing the duties of her office, and thereby still more incensed
+every one against her. Persons, whom she ought to have honored she
+ignored. Gradations of rank and lists of noble families, the alpha and
+omega of a mistress of ceremonies, were never in her mind. People
+entitled to the first position were relegated to the third, and similar
+blunders were numerous. Complaints and annoyances of all kinds poured
+in, and at a state dinner in honor of the visit of a royal prince, she
+was compelled to endure, in the presence of the whole court, a rebuke
+from the queen who specially distinguished a person whom she had
+slighted.
+
+This dinner became fateful to her. Wherever she turned, she beheld
+triumphant or sarcastic smiles--wherever she approached a group,
+conversation ceased with the marked suddenness which does not seek to
+conceal that the new-comer has been the subject of the talk. Nay, she
+often encountered a glance which seemed to say: "Why do you still
+linger among us?"
+
+It happened also that the prince had been summoned to Cannes by his
+father's illness and was not at hand to protect her. She had hoped that
+he would return in time for the dinner, but he did not come. She was
+entirely deserted. A few compassionate souls, like the kind-hearted
+duchess whom she met at the Passion Play, her ladies-in-waiting, and
+some maids of honor, joined her, but she felt in their graciousness a
+pity which humbled her more than all the insults. And her friends! The
+gentlemen who belonged to the circle of her intimate acquaintances had
+for some time adopted a more familiar tone, as if to imply that she
+must accept whatever they choose to offer. She was no longer even
+beautiful--a pallid, grief-worn face, with hollow eyes gazing
+hopelessly into vacancy, found no admirers in this circle. And as every
+look, every countenance wore a hostile expression, her own image gazed
+reproachfully at her from the mirror, the dazzling fair neck with its
+marvellous contours, supported a head whose countenance was weary and
+prematurely aged. "It is all over with you!" cried the mirror! "It
+is all over with you!" smiled the lips of society. "It is all over
+with you, you may be glad if we still come to your dinners!" the
+wine-scented breath of her former intimate friends insultingly near her
+seemed to whisper.
+
+Was this the world, to which she had sacrificed her heart and
+conscience? Was this the honor for which she hourly suffered tortures.
+And on the wintry mountain height the husband who had naught on earth
+save the paltry scrap of love she bestowed, was perishing--she had
+avoided him for months because to her he represented that uncomfortable
+Christianity whose asceticism has survived the civilization of
+thousands of years. Yes! This christianity of the Nazarene who walked
+the earth so humbly in a laborer's garb is the friend of the despised
+and humbled. It asks no questions about crowns and the favor of courts,
+human power and distinction. And she who had trembled and sinned for
+the wretched illusions, the glitter of the honors of this brief
+life--was she to despise a morality which, in its beggar's garb, stands
+high above all for which the greatest and most powerful tremble?
+Again the symbol of the renewed bond between God and the world--the
+cross--rose before her, and on it hung the body of the Redeemer,
+radiant in its chaste, divine beauty--that body which for _her_
+descended from the cross where it hung for the whole world and, after
+clasping it in her arms, she repined because it was only the _image_ of
+what no earthly desire will ever attain, no matter how many human
+hearts glow with the flames of love so long as the world endures.
+
+"My Christus--my sacrificed husband!" cried a voice in her heart so
+loudly that she did not hear a question from the queen. "It is
+incredible!" some one exclaimed angrily near her. She started from her
+reverie. "Your Majesty?" The queen had already passed on, without
+waiting for a reply--whispers and nods ran through the circle, every
+eye was fixed upon her. What had the queen wanted? She tried to hurry
+after her. Her Majesty had disappeared, she was already going through
+the next hall--but the distance was so great--she could not reach her,
+the space seemed to increase as she moved on. She felt that she was on
+the verge of fainting and dragged herself into a secluded room.
+
+The members of the court were retiring. Confusion arose--the mistress
+of ceremonies was absent just at the moment of the _Conge_! No one had
+time to seek her. All were assembling to take leave, and then hurrying
+after servants and wraps. Carriage after carriage rolled away, the
+rooms were empty, the lackeys came to extinguish the lights. The
+countess lay on a sofa, alone and deserted in the last hall of the
+suite.
+
+"In Heaven's name, is your Highness ill?" cried an old major-domo,
+offering his assistance to the lady, who slowly rose. "Is it all over?"
+she asked, gazing vacantly around "Where is my servant?"
+
+"He is still waiting outside for Your Highness," replied the old
+gentleman, trying to assist her. "Shall I call a doctor or a maid?"
+
+"No, thank you, I am well again. It was only an attack of giddiness,"
+said the countess, walking slowly out of the palace.
+
+"Who is driving to-night?" she asked the footman, as he put her fur
+cloak over her bare shoulders.
+
+"Martin, Your Highness."
+
+"Very well, then go home and say that I shall not come, but visit the
+estates."
+
+"It is bitterly cold. Your Highness!" observed the major domo, who had
+attended her to the equipage.
+
+"That does not matter--is the beaver robe in the carriage?"
+
+"Certainly, Your Highness!"
+
+"What time is it? Late?"
+
+"Oh no; just nine. Your Highness."
+
+"Forward, then!"
+
+Martin knew where.
+
+The major-domo closed the door and away dashed the horses into the
+glittering winter night along the familiar, but long neglected road. It
+was indeed a cold drive. The ground was frozen hard and the carriage
+windows were covered with frost flowers. The countess' temples were
+throbbing violently, her heart beat eagerly with longing for the
+husband whom she had deserted for this base world! The mood of that
+Ammergau epoch again asserted its rights, and she penitently hastened
+to seek the beautiful gift she had so thoughtlessly cast aside. With a
+heart full of rancor over the injustice and lovelessness experienced in
+society, her soul plunged deeply into the sweet chalice of the love and
+poesy of those days--a love which was religion--a religion which was
+_love_. "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have
+not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal!" Aye,
+for sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal she had squandered warm
+heart's blood, and the sorrowing soul of the people from whose sacred
+simplicity her wearied soul was to have drawn fresh youth, gazed
+tearfully at her from the eyes of her distant son.
+
+The horses went so slowly to-night, she thought--no pace is swift
+enough for a repentant heart which longs to atone!
+
+He would be angry, she would have a bitter struggle with him--but she
+would soften his wrath--she would put forth all her charms, she would
+be loving and beautiful, fairer than he had ever seen her, for she had
+never appeared before him in full dress, with diamonds sparkling on her
+snowy neck, and heavy gold bracelets clasping her wonderful arms.
+
+She would tell him that she repented, that everything should be as of
+yore when she plighted her troth to him by the glare of the bridal
+torches of the forest conflagration and, feeling Valkyrie might in her
+veins, dreamed Valkyrie dreams.
+
+She drew a long breath and compared the pallid court lady of the
+present, who fainted at a proof of disfavor and a few spiteful glances,
+with the Valkyrie of those days! Was it a mere delusion which made her
+so strong? No--even if the God whom she saw in him was a delusion, the
+love which swelled in her veins with that might which defied the
+elements was divine and, by every standard of philosophy, aesthetics,
+and birth, as well as morality, had a right to its existence.
+
+Then why had she been ashamed of it? On account of trivial prejudices,
+petty vanities: in other words, weakness!
+
+Not Freyer, but _she_ was too petty for this great love! "Yet
+wait--wait, my forsaken husband. Your wife is coming to-day with a love
+that is worthy of you, ardent enough to atone in a single hour for the
+neglect of years."
+
+She breathed upon the frost-coated pane, melting an opening in the
+crust of ice. The castle already stood before her, the height was
+almost reached. Then--a sudden jolt--a cry from the coachman, and the
+carriage toppled toward the precipice. With ready nerve the countess
+sprang out on the opposite side.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Why, the horses shied at sight of Herr Freyer!" said the coachman, as
+Freyer, with an iron hand, curbed the rearing animals. The countess
+hastened toward him. Aided by the coachman, he quieted the trembling
+creatures.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Your Highness," said Freyer, still panting from the
+exertion he had made. "I came out of the wood unexpectedly, and the
+dark figure frightened them. Fortunately I could seize their reins."
+
+"Drive on, Martin," the countess ordered, "I will walk with Herr
+Freyer." The coachman obeyed. She put her hand through Freyer's arm.
+"No wonder that the horses shied, my husband, you look so strange. What
+were you doing in the woods in the middle of the night?"
+
+"What I always do--wandering about."
+
+"That is not right, you ought to sleep."
+
+"Sleep?" Freyer repeated with a bitter laugh.
+
+"Is this my reception, Joseph?"
+
+"Pardon me--it makes me laugh when you talk of sleeping! Look"--he
+raised his hat: "Even in the starlight you can see the white hairs
+which have come since you were last here, sent my child away, and made
+me wholly a hermit. No sleep has come to my eyes and my hair has grown
+grey."
+
+The countess perceived with horror the change which had taken place in
+him. Threads of silver mingled with his black locks, his eyes were
+sunken, his whole figure was emaciated, his chest narrowed--he was a
+sick man. She could not endure the sight--it was the most terrible
+reproach to her; she fixed her eyes on the ground: "I had made such a
+lovely plan--Martin has the key of the outside door--I was going to
+steal gently to the side of your couch and kiss your sleeping lips."
+
+"I thank you for the kind intention. But do you imagine that I could
+have slept after receiving that letter which brought me the news that I
+was betrayed--betrayed once more and, after all the sacred promises
+made during your last visit, you had done exactly the opposite and
+accepted a position which separated you still farther from your husband
+and child, bound you still more firmly to the world? Do you imagine
+that the _days_ are enough to ponder over such thoughts? No, one must
+call in the nights to aid. You know that well, and I should be far
+better satisfied if you would say honestly: 'I know that I am killing
+you, that your strength is being consumed with sorrow, but I have no
+wish to change this state of affairs!' instead of feigning that you
+cannot understand why I should not sleep quietly and wondering that I
+wander all night in the forest? But fear nothing, I am perfectly
+calm--I shall reproach you no farther," he added in a milder tone, "for
+I have closed accounts with myself--with you--with life. Do not weep,
+I promised that when you sought your husband you should find him--I
+will not be false to my pledge. Come, lay your little head upon my
+breast--you are trembling, are you cold? Lean on me, and let us walk
+faster that I may shelter you in the warm room. Wandering dove--how did
+you happen suddenly to return to your husband's lonely nest in the cold
+night, in this bitter winter season? Why did not you stay in the warm
+cote with the others, where you had everything that you desire? Do you
+miss anything? Tell me, what do you seek with me, for what does your
+little heart long?" His voice again sank to the enthralling whisper
+which had formerly made all her pulses throb with a sensation of
+indescribable bliss. His great heart took all its pains and suffering
+and ceased to judge her. The faithless dove found the nest open, and
+his gentle hand scattered for her the crumbs of his lost happiness, as
+the starving man divides his last crust with those who are poorer
+still.
+
+She could not speak--overpowered by emotion she leaned against him,
+allowing herself to be carried rather than led up the steep ascent. But
+she could not wait, even as they moved her lips sought his, her little
+hands clasped his, and a murmur tremulous with emotion: "_This_ is what
+I missed!"--answered the sweet question. The stars above sparkled with
+a thousand rays--the whole silent, glittering, icy winter night
+rejoiced.
+
+At last the castle was reached and the "warm" room received them. It
+did not exactly deserve the name, for the fire in the stove had gone
+out, but neither felt it--the glow in their hearts sufficed.
+
+"You must take what I can offer--I am all alone, you know."
+
+"_All alone_!" she repeated with a happy smile which he could see by
+the starlight shining through the open window. Another kiss--a long
+silent embrace was exchanged.
+
+"Now let me light a lamp, that I may take off your cloak and make you
+comfortable! Or, do you mean to spend the night so?" He was bewitching
+in his mournful jesting, his sad happiness.
+
+"Ah, it is so long since I have seen you thus," Madeleine murmured.
+"World, I can laugh at you now!" cried an exultant voice in her heart,
+for the old love, the old spell was hers once more. And as he again
+appeared before her in his mild greatness and beauty, she desired to
+show herself his peer--display herself to him in all the dazzling
+radiance of her beauty. As he turned to light the lamp she let the
+heavy cloak fall and stood in all her loveliness, her snowy neck framed
+by the dark velvet bodice, on which all the stars in the firmament
+outside seemed to have fallen and clung to rest there for a moment.
+
+Freyer turned with the lamp in his hand--his eyes flashed--a faint cry
+escaped his lips! She waited smiling for an expression of delight--but
+he remained motionless, gazing at her as if he beheld a ghost, while
+the glance fixed upon the figure whose diamonds sparkled with a myriad
+rays constantly grew more gloomy, his bearing more rigid--a deep flush
+suffused his pallid face. "And this is my wife?" at last fell in a
+muffled, expressionless tone from his lips. "No--it is not she."
+
+The countess did not understand his meaning--she imagined that the
+superb costume so impressed him that he dared not approach her, and she
+must show him by redoubled tenderness that he was not too lowly for
+this superb woman. "It _is_ your wife, indeed it is, and all this
+splendor veils a heart which is yours, and yours alone!" she cried,
+throwing herself on his breast and clasping her white arms around him.
+
+But with a violent gesture he released himself, drawing back a step.
+"No--no--I cannot, I will not touch you in such a guise as this."
+
+"Freyer!" the countess angrily exclaimed, gazing at him as if to detect
+some trace of insanity in his features. "What does this mean?"
+
+"Have you--been in society--in _that_ dress?" he asked in a low tone,
+as if ashamed for her.
+
+"Yes. And in my impatience to hasten to you I did not stop to change
+it. I thought you would be pleased."
+
+Freyer again burst into the bitter laugh from which she always shrank.
+"Pleased, when I see that you show yourself to others so--"
+
+"How?" she asked, still failing to understand him.
+
+"So naked!" he burst forth, unable to control himself longer. "You have
+uncovered your beauty thus before the eyes of the gentlemen of your
+world? And this is my wife--a creature so destitute of all shame?"
+
+"Freyer!" shrieked the countess, tottering backward with her hand
+pressed upon her brow as if she had just received a blow on the head:
+"This to _me_--_to-day_!"
+
+"To-day or to-morrow. On any day when you display the beauty at which I
+scarcely dare to glance, to the profane eyes of a motley throng of
+strangers, who gaze with the same satisfaction at the booths of a
+fair--on any day when you expose to greedy looks the bosom which
+conceals the heart that should be mine--on any such day you are
+unworthy the love of any honest man."
+
+A low cry of indignation answered him, then all was still. At last
+Madeleine von Wildenau's lips murmured with a violent effort: "This is
+the last!"
+
+Freyer was striving to calm himself. He pressed his burning brow
+against the frosty window-panes with their glittering tangle of crystal
+flowers and stars. The sparkling firmament above gazed down in its
+eternal clearness upon the poor earthling, who in his childlike way was
+offering a sacrifice to the chaste God, whose cold home it was.
+
+"Whenever I come--there is always some new torture for me--but you have
+never so insulted and outraged me as today," said the countess slowly,
+in a low tone, as if weighing every word. Her manner was terribly calm
+and cold.
+
+"I understand that it may be strange to you to see a lady in full
+dress--you have never moved in a circle where this is a matter of
+course and no one thinks of it. To the pure all things are pure, and he
+who is not stands with us under the law of the etiquette of our
+society. Our village lasses must muffle themselves to the throat, for
+what could protect them from the coarse jests and rudeness of the
+village lads?"
+
+Freyer winced, he felt the lash.
+
+"To add to the splendor of festal garments," she went on, "a little of
+the natural beauty of the divinely created human body is a tribute
+which even the purest woman can afford the eye, and whatever is kept
+within the limits of the artistic sense can never be shameless or
+unseemly. Woe betide any one who passes these bounds and sees evil
+in it--he erases himself from the ranks of cultured people. So much,
+and no more, you are still worthy that I should say in my own
+justification!"
+
+She turned and took up the cloak to wrap herself in it: "Will you be
+kind enough to have the horses harnessed?"
+
+"Are you going?" asked Freyer, who meanwhile had regained his
+self-control.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Alas, what have I done!" he said, wringing his hands. "I have not even
+asked you to sit down, have not let you rest, have offended and wounded
+you. Oh, I am a savage, a wretched man."
+
+"You are what you can be!" she replied with the cutting coldness into
+which a proud woman's slighted love is quickly transformed.
+
+"What such an uncultivated person can be! That is what you wish to
+say!" replied Freyer. "But there lies my excuse. Aye, I am a native of
+the country, accustomed to break my fruit, wet with the morning-dew,
+from the tree ere any hand has touched it, or pluck from the thorny
+boughs in the dewy thicket the hidden berries which no human eye has
+beheld;--I cannot understand how people can enjoy fruits that have been
+uncovered for hours in the dust of the marketplace. The aroma is
+gone--the freshness and bloom have vanished, and if given me--no matter
+how costly it might be, I should not care for it--the wild berries in
+the wood which smiled at me from the leafy dusk with their glittering
+dewdrops, would please me a thousand times better! This is not meant
+for a comparison, only an instance of how people feel when they live in
+the country!"
+
+"And to carry your simile further--if you believe that the fruit so
+greatly desired has been kept for you alone--will it not please you to
+possess what others long for in vain?"
+
+"No," he said simply, "I am not envious enough to wish to deprive
+others of anything they covet--but I will not share, so I would rather
+resign!"
+
+"Well, then--I have nothing more to say on that point--let us close the
+conversation."
+
+Both were silent a long time, as if exhausted by some great exertion.
+
+"How is our--the child? Have you any news from Josepha?" the countess
+asked at last.
+
+"Yes, but unfortunately nothing good."
+
+"As usual!" she answered, hastily; "it is her principle to make us
+anxious. Such people take advantage of every opportunity to let us feel
+their power. I know that."
+
+"I do not think so. I must defend my cousin. She was always honest,
+though blunt and impulsive," answered Freyer. "I fear she is writing
+the truth, and the boy is really worse."
+
+"Go there then, if you are anxious, and send me word how you find him."
+
+"I will not travel at your expense--except in your service, and my own
+means are not enough," replied Freyer in a cold, stern tone.
+
+"Very well, this _is_ in my service. So--obey and go at my expense!"
+
+Freyer gazed at her long and earnestly. "As your steward?" he asked in
+a peculiar tone.
+
+"I should like to have a truthful report--not a biassed one, as is
+Josepha's custom," she replied evasively. "There is nothing to be done
+on the estates now--I beg the 'steward' to represent my interests in
+this matter. If you find the child really worse, I will get a leave of
+absence and go to him."
+
+"Very well, I will do as you order."
+
+"But have the horses harnessed now, or it will be morning before I
+return."
+
+"Will it not be too fatiguing for you to return to-night? Shall I not
+wake the house-maid to prepare your room and wait on you!"
+
+"No, I thank you."
+
+"As you choose," he said, quietly going to order the horses, which had
+hardly been taken from the carriage, to be harnessed again. The
+coachman remonstrated, saying that the animals had not had time to
+rest, but Freyer replied that there must be no opposition to the
+countess' will.
+
+The half-hour which the coachman required was spent by the husband and
+wife in separate rooms. Freyer was arranging on his desk a file of
+papers relating to his business as steward; bills and documents for the
+countess to look over. He worked as quietly as if all emotion was dead
+within him. The countess sat alone in the dimly-lighted, comfortless
+sitting room, gazing at the spot where her son's bed used to stand. Her
+blood was seething with shame and wrath; yet the sight of the empty
+wall where the boy no longer held out his arms to her from the little
+couch, was strangely sad--as if he were dead, and his corpse had
+already been borne out. Her heart was filled with grief, too bitter to
+find relief in tears, they are frozen at such a moment. She would fain
+have called his name amid loud sobs, but something seemed to stand
+beside her, closing her lips and clutching her heart with an iron hand,
+the _vengeance_ of the sorely insulted woman. Then she fancied she saw
+the child fluttering toward her in his little white shirt. At the same
+moment a door burst open, a draught of air swept through the room,
+making her start violently--and at the same moment a star shot from the
+sky, so close at hand, that it appeared as if it must dart through the
+panes and join its glittering fellows on the countess' breast.
+
+What was that? A gust of wind so sudden, that it swept through the
+closed rooms, burst doors open, and appeared to hurl the stars from the
+sky? Yet outside all was still; only the wainscoting and beams of the
+room creaked slightly--popular superstition would have said: "Some
+death has been announced!" The excited woman thought of it with secret
+terror. Was it the whir of the spindle from which one of the Fates
+had just cut the thread of life? If it were the life-thread of her
+child--if at that very hour--her blood congealed to ice! She longed to
+shriek in her fright, but again the gloomy genius of vengeance sealed
+her lips and heart. _If_ it were--God's will be done. Then the last
+bond between her and Freyer would be sundered. What could she do with
+_this_ man's child? Nothing that fettered her to him had a right to
+exist--if the child was dead, then she would be free, there would be
+nothing more in common between them! He had slain her heart that day,
+and she was slaying the last feeling which lived within it, love for
+her child! Everything between them must be over, effaced from the
+earth, even the child. Let God take it!
+
+Every passionate woman who is scorned feels a touch of kinship with
+Medea, whose avenging steel strikes the husband whom it cannot reach
+through the children, whether her own heart is also pierced or not.
+Greater far than the self-denial of _love_ is that of _hate_, for it
+extends to self-destruction! It fears no pain, spares neither itself
+nor its own flesh and blood, slays the object of its dearest love to
+give pain to others--even if only in _thought_, as in the modern realm
+of culture, where everything formerly expressed in deeds of violence
+now acts in the sphere of mental life.
+
+It was a terrible hour! From every corner of the room, wherever she
+gazed, the boy's large eyes shone upon her through the dusk, pleading:
+"Forgive my father, and do not thrust me from your heart!" But in vain,
+her wrath was too great, her heart was incapable at that moment of
+feeling anything else. Everything had happened as it must; she had
+entered an alien, inferior sphere, and abandoned and scorned her own,
+therefore the society to which she belonged now exiled her, while she
+reaped in the sphere she had chosen ingratitude and misunderstanding.
+
+Now, too late, she was forced to realize what it meant to be chained
+for life to an uneducated man! "Oh, God, my punishment is just,"
+murmured an angry voice in her soul, "in my childish defiance I
+despised all the benefits of culture by which I was surrounded, to make
+for myself an idol of clay which, animated by my glowing breath, dealt
+me a blow in the face and returned to its original element! I have
+thrown myself away on a man, to whom any peasant lass would be dearer!
+Why--why, oh God, hast Thou lured me with Thy deceitful mask into the
+mire? Dost Thou feel at ease amid base surroundings? I cannot follow
+Thee there! A religion which stands on so bad a footing with man's
+highest blessings, culture and learning, can never be _mine_. Is it
+divine to steal a heart under the mask of Christ and then, as if in
+mockery, leave the deceived one in the lurch, after she has been caught
+in the snare and bound to a narrow-minded, brutal husband? Is this
+God-like? Nay, it is fiendish! Do not look at me so beseechingly,
+beautiful eyes of my child, I no longer believe even in you! Everything
+which has hitherto bound me to your father has been a lie; you, too,
+are an embodied falsehood. It is not true that Countess Wildenau has
+mingled her noble blood with that of a low-born man; that she has given
+birth to a bastard, wretched creature, which could be at home in no
+sphere save by treachery! No--no, I cannot have forgotten myself so
+far--it is but a dream, a phantasy of the imagination and when I awake
+it will be on the morning of that August day in Ammergau after the
+Passion Play. Then I shall be free, can wed a noble man who is my peer,
+and give him legitimate heirs, whose mother I can be without a blush!"
+
+What was that? Did her ears deceive her? The hoof-beats of a horse,
+rushing up the mountain with the speed of the wind. She hurried to the
+window. The clock was just striking two. Yes! A figure like the wild
+huntsman was flitting like a shadow through the night toward the
+castle. Now he turned the last curve and reached the height and the
+countess saw distinctly that he was her cornier. What news was he
+bringing--what had happened--at so late an hour?
+
+Was the evil dream not yet over?
+
+What new blow was about to strike her?
+
+"What you desired--nothing else!" said the demon of her life.
+
+The courier checked his foaming horse before the terrace. The countess
+tried to hurry toward him, but could not leave the spot. She clung
+shuddering to the cross-bars of the window, which cast its long black
+shadow far outside.
+
+Freyer opened the door; Madeleine heard the horseman ask: "Is the
+Countess here?"
+
+"Yes!" replied Freyer.
+
+"I have a telegram which must be signed, the answer is prepaid."
+
+Freyer tore off the envelope. "Take the horse round to the stable, I
+will attend to everything."
+
+He entered and approached the door, through which the child had come to
+his mother's aid the last time she was there, to protect her from
+Josepha. The countess fancied that the little head must be again thrust
+in! But it was only Freyer with the despatch. The countess mechanically
+signed her name to the receipt as if she feared she could not do so
+after having read the message. Then, with a trembling hand, she opened
+the telegram, which contained only the words:
+
+"Our angel has just died, with his mother's name on his lips. Please
+send directions for the funeral.
+
+                                                    "Josepha."
+
+A cry rang through the room like the breaking of a chord--a death-like
+silence followed. The countess was on her knees, with her face bowed on
+the table, her hand clasping the telegram, crushed before the God whose
+might she felt for the first time in her life, whom only a few moments
+before she had blasphemed and defied. He had taken her at her word, and
+her words had condemned her. The child, the loyal child who had died
+with her name on his lips, she had wished but a few minutes before that
+God would take out of the world--she could betray him for the sake of
+an aristocratic legitimate brother, who never had existed. She could
+think of his death as something necessary, as her means of deliverance?
+Now the child _had_ released her. Sensitive and modest, he had removed
+the burden of his poor little life, which was too much for her to bear
+and vanished from the earth where he found no place--but his last word
+was the name of all love, the name "mother!" He had not asked "have you
+fulfilled a mother's duties to me?--have you loved me?" He had loved
+his mother with that sweet child-love, which demands nothing--only
+gives.
+
+And she, the avaricious mother, had been niggardly with her love--till
+the child died of longing. She had let it die and did not bestow the
+last joy, press the last kiss upon the little mouth, permit the last
+look of the seeking eyes to rest upon the mother's face!
+
+Outraged nature, so long denied, now shrieked aloud, like an animal for
+its dead young! But the brute has at least done its duty, suckled its
+offspring, warmed and protected it with its own body, as long as it
+could. But she, the more highly organized creature--for only human
+beings are capable of such unnatural conduct--had sacrificed her child
+to so-called higher interests, had neither heeded Josepha's warning,
+nor the voice of her own heart. Now came pity for the dead child, now
+she would fain have taken it in her arms, called it by every loving
+name, cradled the weary little head upon her breast. Too late! He had
+passed away like a smiling good genius, whom she had repulsed--now she
+was alone and free, but free like the man who falls into a chasm
+because the rope which bound him to the guide broke. She had not known
+that she possessed a child, while he lived, now that he was dead she
+knew it. _Maternal joy_ could not teach her, for she had never
+experienced it--_maternal grief_ did--and she was forced to taste it to
+the dregs. Though she writhed in her torture, burying her nails in the
+carpet as if she would fain dig the child from the ground, she could
+find no consolation, and letting her head sink despairingly, she
+murmured: "My child--you have gone and left me with a guilt that can
+never be atoned!"
+
+"You can be my mother in Heaven," he had once said. This, too, was
+forfeited; neither in Heaven nor on earth had she a mother's rights,
+for she had denied her child, not only before the world but, during
+this last hour, to herself also.
+
+Freyer bore the dispensation differently. To him it was no punishment,
+but a trial, the inevitable consequence of unhappy, unnatural
+relations. He could not reproach himself and uttered no reproaches to
+others. He was no novice in suffering and had one powerful consolation,
+which she lacked: the perception of the divinity of grief--this made
+him strong and calm! Freyer leaned against the window and gazed upward
+to the stars, which were so peacefully pursuing their course. "You were
+far away from me when you lived in a foreign land, my child--now you
+are near, my poor little boy! This cold earth had no home for you! But
+to your father you will still live, and your glorified spirit will
+brighten my path--the dark one I must still follow!" Tears flowed
+silently down his cheeks. No loud lamentations must profane his great,
+sacred anguish. With clasped hands he mutely battled it down and as of
+old on the cross his eyes appealed to those powers ever near the
+patient sufferer in the hour of conflict. However insignificant and
+inexperienced he might be in this world, he was proportionally lofty
+and superior in the knowledge of the things of another.
+
+"Come, rise!" he said gently to the bewildered woman, bending to help
+her. She obeyed, but it was in the same way that two strangers, in a
+moment of common disaster, lend each other assistance. The tie had been
+severed that day, and the child's death placed a grave between them.
+
+"I fear your sobbing will be heard downstairs. Will you not pray with
+me?" said Freyer. "Do what we may, we are in God's hands and must
+accept what He sends! I wish that you could feel how the saints aid a
+soul which suffers in silence. Loud outcries and unbridled lamentations
+drive them away! God does not punish us to render us impatient, but
+patient." He clasped his hands: "Come, let us pray for our child!" He
+repeated in a low tone the usual, familiar prayers for the dying--we
+cannot always command words to express our feelings. An old formula
+often stands us in good stead, when the agitation of our souls will not
+suffer us to find language, and our thoughts, swept to and fro by the
+tempest of feeling, gladly cling to a familiar form to which they give
+new life.
+
+The countess did not understand this. She was annoyed by the
+commonplace phraseology, which was not hallowed to her by custom and
+piety--she was contemptuous of a point of view which could find
+consolation for _such_ a grief by babbling "trivialties." Freyer ended
+his prayer, and remained a moment with his hands clasped on his breast.
+Then he dipped his fingers in the holy water basin beside the place
+where the child's couch had formerly stood and made the sign of the
+cross over himself and the unresponsive woman. She submitted, but
+winced as if he had cut her face with a knife and destroyed its beauty.
+It reminded her of the hour in Ammergau when he made the sign of the
+cross over her for the first time! Then she had felt enrolled by this
+symbol in a mysterious army of sufferers and there her misery began.
+
+"We must now arrange where we will have the child buried," said Freyer;
+"I think we should bring him here, that we may still have our angel's
+grave!"
+
+"As you choose!" she said in an exhausted tone, wiping away her tears.
+"It will be best for you to go and attend to everything yourself. Then
+you can bring the--body!" The word again destroyed her composure. She
+saw the child in his coffin with Josepha, the faithful servant who had
+nursed him, beside it, and an unspeakable jealousy seized her
+concerning the woman to whom she had so indifferently resigned all her
+rights. The child, always so ready to lavish its love, was lying cold
+and rigid, and she would give her life if it could rise once more,
+throw its little arms around her neck, and say "my dear mother." "Pearl
+of Heaven--I have cast you away for wretched tinsel and now, when the
+angels have taken you again, I recognize your value." She tore the
+jewels from her breast. "There, take these glittering stars of my
+frivolous life and put them in his coffin--I never want to see them
+again--let their rays be quenched in my child's grave."
+
+"The sacrifice comes too late!" said Freyer, pushing the stones away.
+He did not wish to be harsh, but he could not be untruthful. What was a
+handful of diamonds flung away in a moment of impulse to the Countess
+Wildenau? Did she seek to buy with them pardon for her guilt toward her
+dead child? The father's aching heart could not accept _that_ payment
+on account! Or was it meant for the symbol of a greater sacrifice--a
+sacrifice of her former life? Then it came too late, too late for the
+dead and for the living; it could not avail the former, and the latter
+no longer believed in it!
+
+She had understood him and the terrible accusation which he unwittingly
+brought against her! Standing before him as if before a judge, she felt
+that God was with him at that moment--but she was deserted, her angel
+had left her, there was no pity for her in Heaven or on earth--save
+from one person! The thought illumined the darkness of her misery.
+There was but one who would pour balm upon her wounds, one who had
+indulgence and love enough to raise the drooping head, pardon the
+criminal--her noble, generous-hearted friend, the Prince! She would fly
+to him, seek shelter from the gloomy spirit which had pursued her ever
+since she conjured up in Ammergau the cruel God who asked such
+impossible things and punished so terribly.
+
+"Pray, order the carriage--I must leave here or I shall die."
+
+Freyer glanced at the clock. "The half-hour Martin required is over, he
+will be here directly."
+
+"Is it only half an hour? Oh! God--is it possible--so much misery in
+half an hour! It seems an eternity since the news came!"
+
+"We can feel more grief in one moment than pleasure in a thousand
+years!" answered Freyer. "It is probably because a just Providence
+allots to each an equal measure of joy and pain--but the pain must be
+experienced in this brief existence, while we have an eternity for joy.
+Woe betide him, who does the reverse--keeps the pain for eternity and
+squanders the joy in this world. He is like the foolish virgins who
+burned their oil before the coming of the 'bridegroom.'"
+
+The countess nodded. She understood the deep significance of Freyer's
+words.
+
+"But we of the people say that 'whom God loveth, He chasteneth,'" he
+continued, "and I interpret that to mean that He _compels_ those whom
+He wishes to save to bear their portion here below, that the joy may be
+reserved for them in Heaven! To such favored souls He sends an angel
+with the cup of wormwood and wherever it flees and hides--he finds it.
+Nearer and nearer the angel circles around it on his dark pinions, till
+it sinks with fatigue, and fainting with thirst like the Saviour on the
+Cross--drinks the bitter draught as if it were the most delicious
+refreshment."
+
+The countess gazed into his face with timid admiration. He seemed to
+her the gloomy messenger of whom he spoke, she fancied she could hear
+the rustle of his wings as he drew nearer and nearer in ever narrowing
+circles, till escape was no longer possible. Like a hunted animal she
+took to flight--seeking deliverance at any cost. Thank Heaven, the
+carriage! Martin was driving up. A cold: "Farewell, I hope you may gain
+consolation and strength for the sad journey!" was murmured to the
+father who was going to bring home the body of his dead child--then she
+entered the carriage.
+
+Freyer wrapped the fur robe carefully around the delicate form of his
+wife, but not another word escaped his lips. What he said afterward to
+his God, when he returned to the deserted house, Countess Wildenau must
+answer for at some future day.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+                            NOLI ME TANGERE.
+
+
+"I have attracted you by a Play--for you were a child, and children are
+taught by games. But when one method of instruction is exhausted it is
+cast aside and exchanged for a higher one, that the child may ripen to
+maturity." Thus spoke the voice of the Heavenly Teacher to the countess
+as, absorbed in her grief, she drove through the dusk of a wintry
+morning. She almost wondered, as she gazed out into the grey dawn, that
+the day-star was not weary of pursuing its course. Aye, the mysterious
+voice spoke the truth: the play was over, that method of instruction
+was exhausted, but she did not yet feel ready for a sterner one and
+trembled at the thought of it.
+
+Instead of the divine Kindergarten instructor, came the gloomy teacher
+death, forcing the attention of the refractory pupil by the first
+pitiless blow upon her own flesh and blood! Day was dawning--in nature
+as well as in her own soul, but the sun shone upon a winding sheet,
+outside as well as in, a world dead in the clasp of winter. Where was
+the day when the redeeming love for which she hoped would appear to her
+in the spring garden? Woe to all who believed in spring. Their best
+gift was a cold winter sunlight on snow-covered graves.
+
+The corpse of her spring dream was lying on the laughing shores of the
+Riviera.
+
+The God whom she sought was very different from the one she intended to
+banish from her heart. The new teacher seized her hand with bony
+fingers and forced her to look closely at the God whom she herself had
+created, and whom she now upbraided with having deceived her. "What
+kind of God would this creature of your imagination be?" rang in her
+ears with pitiless mockery. Aye, she had believed Him to be the Jupiter
+who loved mortal women, only in the course of the ages he had changed
+his name and now appeared as Christ. But she was now forced to learn
+that He was no offspring of the sensual fancy of the nations, but a
+contrast to every natural tendency and desire--a _true_ God, not a
+creation of mankind. Were it not so, men would have invented a more
+complaisant one. Must not that be a divine power which, in opposition
+to all human, all earthly passions, with neither splendor, nor power,
+with the most insignificant means has established an empire throughout
+the world? Aye, she recognized with reverent awe that this was a God,
+though unlike the one whom she sought, Christ was not Jupiter--and
+Freyer was not Christ. The _latter_ cannot be clasped in the arms, does
+not yield to earthly yearning, no matter how fervently devout. Spirit
+as He is, He vanishes, even where He reveals Himself in material form,
+and whoever thinks to grasp Him, holds but the poor doll, whom He gave
+for a momentary support to the childish mind, which seeks solely what
+is tangible!
+
+Mary Magdalene was permitted to serve and anoint Him when He walked on
+earth in human form, but when she tried to clasp the risen Lord the
+"_noli me tangere_" thundered in her ears, and God withdrew from mortal
+touch. In Mary Magdalene, however, the love kindled by the visible
+Master was strong enough to burn on for the invisible One--she no
+longer sought Him among the living, but went into solitude and lived
+for the vanished Christ. But the countess had not advanced so far. What
+"God of Love" was this, who imposed conditions which made the warm
+blood freeze, killed the warm life-pulses? What possession was this,
+which could only be obtained by renunciation, what joy that could be
+attained solely by mortification? Her passionate nature could not
+comprehend this contradiction. She longed to clasp His knees and wipe
+His feet with her hair, at least that, nothing more, only that--she
+would be modest! But not even that was allowed her.
+
+This was the great impulse of religious materialism, in which divinity
+and humanity met, the Magdalene element in the history of the
+conversion of mankind, which attracted souls like that of Madeleine von
+Wildenau, made them feel for an instant the bliss of the immediate
+presence of God, and then left them disappointed and alone until they
+perceived that in that one instant wings have grown--strong enough to
+bear them up to Heaven, if they once learned to use them.
+
+Thus quivering and forsaken, the heart of the modern Magdalene lay on
+the earth when the first _noli me tangere_ echoed in her ears. She had
+never known that there were things which could not be had, and now that
+she wanted a God and could not obtain Him, she murmured like a child
+which longs in vain for the stars until it attains a higher
+consciousness of ownership than lies in mere personal possession, the
+feeling which in quiet contemplation of the starry firmament fills us
+with the proud consciousness: "This is yours!"
+
+Everything is ours--and nothing, according to our view of it. To expand
+our breasts with its mighty thoughts--to merge ourselves in it and revel
+in the whirling dance of the atoms, _in that sense_ the universe is
+ours. But absorb and contain it we cannot; in that way it does not
+belong to us. It is the same with God. Greatness cannot enter
+littleness--the small must be absorbed by the great; but its power of
+possession lies in the very fact that it can do this and still retain
+its own nature. How long will it last, and what will it cost, ere the
+impatient child attains the peace of this realization?
+
+In the faint glimmer of the dawn the countess drove past a little
+church in the suburbs of Munich. It was the hour for early mass. A few
+sleepy, shivering old women, closely muffled, were shuffling over the
+snow in big felt shoes toward the open door. A dim ray of light
+streamed out, no organ notes, no festal display lured worshippers, for
+it was a "low mass." It was cold and gloomy outside, songless within.
+Yet the countess suddenly stopped the carriage.
+
+"I am going into the church a moment," she said, tottering forward with
+uncertain steps, for she was exhausted both physically and mentally.
+The old women eyed her malignantly, as if asking: "What do you want
+among poor ugly crones who drag their crooked limbs out of bed so early
+to go to their Saviour, because later they must do the work of their
+little homes and cannot get away? What brings you to share with us the
+bitter bread of poverty, the bread of the poor in spirit, with which
+our Saviour fed the five thousand and will feed thousands and tens of
+thousands more from eternity to eternity? Of what use to you are the
+crumbs scattered here for a few beggars?"
+
+She felt ashamed as she moved in her long velvet train and costly fur
+cloak past the cowering figures redolent of the musty straw beds and
+close sleeping rooms whence they had come, and read these questions on
+the wrinkled faces peering from under woollen hoods and caps, as if
+she, the rich woman, had come to take something from the poor. She had
+gone forward to the empty front benches near the altar, where the timid
+common people do not venture to sit, but--she knew not why--as she was
+about to kneel there, she suddenly felt that she could not cut off a
+view of any part of the altar from the people behind, deprive them of
+anything to which she had no right, and turning she went back to the
+last seat. There, behind a trembling old man in a shabby woollen
+blouse, who could scarcely bend his stiff knees and sat coughing and
+gasping, and a consumptive woman, who was passing the beads of her
+rosary between thin, crooked fingers, she knelt down. She was more at
+ease now--she felt that she had no rights here, that she was the least
+among the lowliest.
+
+The church was still dark, it had not yet been lighted, the sacristan
+was obliged to be saving--every one knew that. The faint ray which
+streamed through the door came from the candle ends brought by the
+congregation, who set them in front of the praying-desks to read their
+prayer-books. The first person was compelled to use a match, the others
+lighted their candles from his and were glad to be able to save the
+matches. It was a silent agreement, which every one knew. Here and
+there a tiny light glowed brightly--ever and anon in some dark corner
+the slight snap of a match was heard and directly after a column or the
+image of some saint emerged from the wavering shadows, now fainter, now
+more distinct, according as the light flashed up and down, till it
+burned clearly. Then the nave grew bright and the breath of the
+congregation rose through the cold church over the little flames like
+clouds of incense. The high-altar alone still lay veiled in darkness.
+The light of a wax-candle on the bench in front shone brightly into the
+countess' eyes. The woman in the three-cornered kerchief with the
+sunken temples and bony hands glanced back and gazed mournfully, almost
+reproachfully, into her face and at her rich fur cloak. Madeleine von
+Wildenau was ashamed of her beauty, ashamed that she wore furs while
+the woman in front of her scarcely had her shoulders covered. She
+felt burdened, she almost wanted to excuse herself. If she were poor
+also--she would have no cause to be ashamed. She gently drew out her
+purse and slipped the contents into the woman's hand. The latter drew
+back startled, she could not believe, could not understand that she was
+really to take it, that the lady was in earnest.
+
+"May God reward you! I'll pray for you a thousand times!" she
+whispered, and a great, unutterable emotion filled the countess' soul
+as she met the poor woman's grateful glance. Then the kneeling crone
+nudged her neighbor, the coughing, stammering old man, and pressed a
+gold coin into his hand.
+
+"There's something for you! You're poor and needy too."
+
+The latter looked at the woman, who was a stranger, as though she were
+an apparition from another world. "Why, what is this?" he murmured with
+difficulty.
+
+"The lady behind gave it to me," said the woman, pointing backward with
+her thumb.
+
+The old man nodded to the lady, as well as his stiff neck would permit,
+and the woman did not notice that he ought to have thanked her, as the
+money was given to her and she had voluntarily shared it with him.
+
+Countess Wildenau experienced a strange emotion of satisfaction as if
+now, for the first time, she had a right here, and with the gift she
+had purchased her share of the "bread of poverty."
+
+At last there was a movement near the high altar. A sleepy alcolyte
+shuffled in, made his reverence before it and lighted a candle, which
+would not burn because he did not wait till the wax, which was
+stiffened by the cold, had melted. While he was lighting the second,
+the first went out and he was obliged to begin his task anew. The wand
+wavered to and fro a long time in the boy's numb hands, but at last the
+altar was lighted, the boy bowed again, and went down the stone steps
+into the vestry-room. This was ordinary prose, but the devout
+worshippers did not perceive it. They all knew the wondrous spell of
+fire, with which the Catholic church consecrates candles and gives
+their light the power to scatter the princes of darkness, and rejoiced
+in the victorious rays from which the evil spirits fled, they saw their
+gliding shadows dart in wild haste through the church and the sleepy
+boy who had wrought the miracle by means of his lighter disappear. _The
+light shines, no matter who kindles it_. The poor dark souls, illumined
+by no ray of earthly hope, eagerly absorbed its cheering rays and so
+long as the consecrated candles burned, the ghosts of care, discord,
+envy, and all the other demons of poverty were spell-bound! Now the
+priest entered, clad in his white robes, accompanied by two attendants.
+
+A deathlike stillness reigned throughout the church. In a low, almost
+inaudible whisper he read the Latin text, which no one understood, but
+whose meaning every one knew, even the countess.
+
+Everything which gives an impulse to the independent activity of the
+soul produces more effect than what is received in a complete form.
+During the incomprehensible muttering, the countess had time to recall
+the whole mighty drama to which it referred better and more vividly
+than any distinct prosaic theological essay could have described
+it. Again she experienced all the horrors of the Passion, as she
+had done in the Passion Play--only this time invisibly, instead of
+visibly--spiritually instead of materially--"Noli me tangere!"
+
+The priest stooped and kissed the altar, it meant the Judas kiss. "Can
+you kiss those lips and not fall down to worship?" cried a voice in the
+countess' heart, as it had done nine years before, and a nameless
+longing seized upon her for the divine contact which had fallen to the
+traitor's lot--but "Noli me tangere" rang in the ears of the penitent
+Magdalene. Before her stood an altar and a priest, not Christ nor
+Judas, and the kiss she envied was imprinted upon white linen, not the
+Saviour's lips. She pressed her hands upon her heart and a few bitter
+tears oozed from beneath her drooping lashes. She was like the blind
+princess in Henrik Hertz' wonderful poem, who, when she suddenly
+obtained her sight, no longer knew herself among the objects which she
+had formerly recognized only by touch, and fancied that she had lost
+everything which was dear and familiar--because she had gained a new
+sense which she knew not how to use--a _higher_ one than that of her
+groping finger tips. Then in her fear she turned to the _invisible_
+world and recognized _it_ only, it alone had not changed with outward
+phenomena because alike to the blind and those who had sight it
+revealed itself only to the _mind_. It was the same with the countess.
+The world which she could touch with her fingers had vanished and
+before her newly awakened sense lay a boundless space filled with
+strange forms, which all seemed so unattainably distant; one only
+remained the same: the God whom she had _never_ seen. And now when
+everything once familiar and near was transformed and removed to a vast
+distance, when everything appeared under a wholly different guise, it
+was He to whom her heart, accustomed to blindness, sought and found the
+way.
+
+The priest was completely absorbed in his prayer-book. What he beheld
+the others felt with mysterious awe. It was like looking through a
+telescope into a strange world, while those who were not permitted to
+do so stood by and imagined what the former beheld.
+
+The Sursum corda fell slowly from the lips of the priest. The bell
+sounded. "Christ is present!" The congregation, as if dazzled, bowed
+their faces and crossed themselves in the presence of the marvel
+that Heaven itself vouchsafed to descend to their unworthy selves.
+Again the bell sounded for the transformation, and perfect silence
+followed--while the miracle was being wrought by which God entered the
+mouths of mortals to be the bread of life to mankind.
+
+This was the bread of the poor and simple-hearted, whose crumbs the
+Countess Wildenau had that day stolen and was eating with secret shame.
+
+The mass was over, the priest pronounced the benediction and
+withdrew to the vestry-room. The people put out their bits of wax
+candles--clouds of light smoke filled the church. It was like Christmas
+Eve, after the children have gone to bed and the candles on the tree
+are extinguished--but their hearts are still full of Christmas joy. The
+countess knew not why the thought entered her mind, but she suddenly
+recollected that Christmas was close at hand and she no longer had any
+child on whom she could bestow gifts. True, she had never done this
+herself, but always left Josepha to attend to the matter. This year,
+however, she had thought she would do it, now it was too late. Suddenly
+she saw a child's eyes gazing happily at a lighted tree and below it a
+manger, with the same eyes sparkling back. The whole world, heaven and
+earth were glittering with children's beaming eyes, but the most
+beautiful of all--those of her own boy, were closed--no grateful glance
+smiled upon her amid the universal joy, for her there was no Christmas,
+for it was the mother's day, and she was _not_ a mother. "Child in the
+manger, bend down to the sinner who mourns neglected love at Thy feet."
+Sinking on the kneeling bench, she sobbed bitterly. It was dark and
+silent. The congregation had gone, the candles on the altar had been
+extinguished as fast as possible--the ever-burning lamp cast dull red
+rays upon the altar, dawn was glimmering through the frost-covered
+window panes. All was still--only in the distance the cocks were
+crowing. Again she remembered that evening when her father came and she
+had knelt with Freyer in the church before the Pieta, until the crowing
+of the cock reminded her how easy it was to betray love and fidelity.
+Rising wearily from her knees, she dragged herself to a Pieta above a
+side altar, and pressed her lips upon the wounds of the divine body.
+She gazed to see if the eyes would not once more open, but it remained
+rigid and lifeless, this time no echo answered the mute pleading of
+the warm lips. No second miracle was wrought for her, the hand which
+guided her had been withdrawn, and like the poorest and most humble
+mortal she was forced to grope her way wearily along the arid path of
+tradition;--it was just, she had deserved nothing better, and the great
+discovery which came to her that day was that this path also led to
+God.
+
+While thus absorbed in contemplation, a voice suddenly startled her so
+that she almost fainted: "What does this mean, Countess? You here at
+early mass, in a court-train! Are you going to write romances--or live
+them? I have often asked you the question, but never with so much
+justification as now!" Prince Emil was standing before her. She could
+almost have shrieked aloud in her delight. "Prince--my dear Prince!"
+
+"Unfortunately, Prince no longer, but Duke of Metten-Barnheim, in which
+character I again lay myself at your feet and beg for a continuation of
+your favor!" said the prince with a touch of humor. Raising her from
+her knees, he led her into the little corridor of the church. "My
+father," he went on, "feels so well at Cannes that he wants to spend
+his old age there in peace, and summoned me by telegram to sign the
+abdication documents and take the burden of government upon my young
+shoulders. I was just coming from the station and, as I drove by, saw
+your carriage waiting before this poor temple. I stopped and obtained
+with difficulty from the half frozen coachman information concerning
+the place where his mistress was seeking compensation from the ennui of
+a court entertainment! A romantic episode, indeed! A beautiful woman in
+court dress, weeping and doing penance at six o'clock in the morning,
+among beggars and cripples in a little church in the suburbs. A
+swearing coachman and two horses stiff from the cold waiting outside,
+and lastly a faithful knight, who comes just at the right time to
+prevent a moral suicide and save a pair of valuable horses--what more
+can be desired in our time, in the way of romance?"
+
+"Prince--pardon me, Duke, your mockery hurts me."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so, you are far too wearied, to understand humor. Come,
+I will take you to the carriage. There, lean on me, you are ill,
+_machere Madeleine_, you cannot go on in this way. What--you will take
+holy water, into which Heaven knows who has dipped his fingers. Well,
+to the pure all things are pure. Fortunately the doubtful fluid is
+frozen!"
+
+Talking on in this way he led her out into the open air. A keen morning
+wind from the mountains was sweeping through the streets and cut the
+countess' tear-stained face. She involuntarily hid it on the duke's
+breast. The latter put his arm gently around her and lifted her into
+the carriage. His own coachman was waiting near, but the duke looked at
+her beseechingly. "May I go with you? I cannot possibly leave you in
+this state."
+
+The countess nodded. He motioned to his servant to drive home and
+entered the Wildenau equipage. "First of all, Madeleine," he said,
+warming her cold hands in his, "tell me: _Are_ you already a saint--or
+do you wish to _become_ one? Whence dates this last caprice of my
+adored friend?"
+
+"No saint, Duke--neither now, nor ever, only a deeply humbled, contrite
+heart, which would fain fly from this world!"
+
+"But is this world so unlovely that one would fain try Heaven, while
+there are people who can be relied on under any circumstances!"
+
+"Yes" replied the countess bitterly, but the sweetness of the true
+warmth of feeling revealed through her friend's humor was reviving and
+strengthening to her brain and heart. In his society it seemed as if
+there was neither pain nor woe on earth, as if all gloomy spirits must
+flee from his unruffled calmness. His apparent coldness produced the
+effect of champagne frappe, which, ice-cold when drunk, warms the whole
+frame.
+
+"Oh, thank Heaven, that you are here--I have missed you sorely," she
+said from the depths of her soul. "Oh, my friend, what is to be done--I
+am helpless without you!"
+
+"So much the better for me, if I am indispensable to you--you know that
+is the goal of my desires! But dearest friend--you are suffering and I
+cannot aid you because I do not know the difficulty! What avail is a
+physician, who cures only the symptoms, not the disease. You are simply
+bungling about on your own responsibility and every one knows that is
+the worst thing a sick person can do. Consumptives use the hunger-cure,
+anaemics resort to blood letting. You, my dear Madeleine, I think, do
+the same thing. Mortification, when your vital strength is waning,
+moral blood-letting, while the heart needs food and warmth. What kind
+of cure is it to be up all night long and wander about in cold
+churches, with the thermometer marking below freezing, early in the
+morning. I should advise you to edit a book on the physiology of the
+nerves. You are like the man in the fairy-tale who wanted to learn to
+shiver." An involuntary smile hovered about the countess' lips.
+
+"Duke--your humor is beginning to conquer. No doubt you are right in
+many things, but you do not know the state of my mind. My life is
+destroyed, the axe is laid at the root, happiness, honor--all are
+lost."
+
+"For Heaven's sake, what has happened to thus overwhelm you?" asked the
+duke, still in the most cheerful mood.
+
+She could not tell him the truth and pleaded some incident at court as
+an excuse. Then in a few words she told him of the queen's displeasure,
+the malice of her enemies, her imperilled position.
+
+"And do you take this so tragically?" The prince laughed aloud: "Pardon
+me, _chere amie_--but one can't help laughing! A woman like you to
+despair because a few stiff old court sycophants look askance at you,
+and the queen does not understand you which, with the dispositions you
+both have, was precisely what might have been expected. It is too
+comical! It is entirely my own fault--I ought to have considered
+it--but I expected you to show more feminine craft and diplomacy. That
+you disdained to employ the petty arts which render one a _Persona
+grata_ at court is only an honor to you, and if a few fops presumed to
+adopt an insolent manner to you, they shall receive a lesson which
+will teach them that _your_ honor is _mine_! Nay, it ought to amuse
+you, to feign death awhile and see how the mice will all come out and
+dance around you to scatter again when the lioness awakes. Do you
+talk of destroyed happiness and roots to which the axe is laid? Oh,
+women--women! You can despair over a plaything! For this position at
+court could never be aught save a toy to you!"
+
+"But to retire thus in shame and disgrace--would _you_ endure it--if it
+should happen to you? Ought not a woman to be as sensitive concerning
+her honor as a man?"
+
+"I don't think your honor will suffer, because the restraint of court
+life does not suit you! Or is it because you do not understand the
+queen? Why, surely persons are not always sympathetic and avoid one
+another without any regret; does the fact become so fateful because one
+of you wears a crown? In that case I beg you to remember that a crown
+is hovering over your head also--a crown that is ready to descend
+whenever that head will receive it, and that you will then be in a
+position to address Her Majesty as 'chere cousine!' You, a Princess von
+Prankenberg, a Countess Wildenau, fly like a rebuked child at an
+ungracious glance from the queen and her court into a corner of a
+church?" He shook his head. "There must be something else. What is it?
+I shall never learn, but you cannot deceive me!"
+
+The countess was greatly disconcerted. She tried to find another
+plausible pretext for her mood and, like all natures to whom deception
+is not natural, said precisely what betrayed her: "I am anxious about
+the Wildenaus--they are only watching for the moment when they can
+compromise me unpunished, and if the queen withdraws her favor, they
+need show me no farther consideration."
+
+The duke frowned. "Ah! ah!"--he said slowly, under his breath: "What do
+you fear from the Wildenaus, how can they compromise you?"
+
+The countess, startled, kept silence. She saw that she had betrayed
+herself.
+
+"Madeleine"--he spoke calmly and firmly--"everything must now be
+clearly understood between us. What connection was there between
+Wildenau and that mysterious boy? I must know, for I see that that is
+the quarter whence the danger which you fear is threatening you, and I
+must know how to avert it--you have just heard that _your_ honor is
+_mine_.' There was a shade of sternness in his tone, the sternness of
+an resolve to take this weak, wavering woman under his protection.
+
+"The child"--she faltered, trembling from head to foot--"ah, no--there
+is nothing more to be feared from him--he is dead!"
+
+"Dead?" asked the duke gently. "Since when?"
+
+"Since yesterday!" And the proud countess, sobbing uncontrollably, sank
+upon his breast.
+
+A long silence followed.
+
+The duke passed his arm around her and let her weep her fill. "My poor
+Madeleine--I understand everything." An indescribable emotion filled
+the hearts of both. Not another word was exchanged.
+
+The carriage rolled up to the entrance of the Wildenau palace. Her
+little cold hands clasped his beseechingly.
+
+"Do not desert me!" she whispered hurriedly.
+
+"Less than ever!" he replied gravely and firmly.
+
+"Her Highness is ill!" he said to the servants who came hurrying out
+and helped the tottering woman up the steps. She entered the boudoir,
+where the duke himself removed her cloak. It was a singular sight--the
+haughty figure in full evening dress, adorned with jewels, in the light
+of the dawning day--like some beautiful spirit of the night, left
+behind by her companions who had fled from the first sunbeams, and now
+stood terrified, vainly striving to conceal herself in darkness. "Poor
+wandering sprite, where is the home your tearful eyes are seeking?"
+said the prince, overwhelmed by pity as he saw the grief-worn face.
+"Yes, Madeleine, you are too beautiful for the broad glare of day. Such
+visions suit the veil of evening--the magical lustre of drawing-rooms!
+By day one feels as if the night had been robbed of an elf, who
+having lost her wings by the morning light was compelled to stay
+among common mortals." Carried away by an outburst of feeling, he
+approached her with open arms. A strange conflict of emotion was
+seething in her breast. She had longed for him, as for the culture she
+had despised--she felt that she could not live without him, that
+without him she could not exorcise the spirits she had conjured up to
+destroy her, her ear listened with rapture to the expression of love in
+cultured language, but when he strove to approach her--it seemed as if
+that unapproachable something which had cried "Noli me tangere!" had
+established its throne in her own heart since she had knelt among the
+beggars early that morning, and now, in spite of herself, cried in its
+solemn dignity from her lips the "Noli me tangere" to another.
+
+And, without words, the duke understood it, respected her mute denial,
+and reverently drew back a step.
+
+"Do you not wish to change your dress, you are utterly exhausted. If it
+will be a comfort to you to have me stay, I will wait till you have
+regained your strength. Then I will beg permission to breakfast with
+you!" he said with his wonted calmness.
+
+"Yes, I thank you!" she answered--with a two-fold meaning, and left the
+room with a bearing more dignified than the duke had ever seen, as
+though she had an invisible companion of whom she was proud.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+                          ATTEMPTS TO RESCUE.
+
+
+The countess remained absent a long time, while the duke sat at the
+window of the boudoir gazing out into the frosty winter morning, but
+without seeing what was passing outside. Before him lay a shattered
+happiness, a marred destiny. The happiness was his, the destiny hers.
+"There is surely nothing weaker than a woman--even the strongest!" he
+thought, shaking his head mournfully. Ought we not to punish this
+personator of Christ, who used his mask to break into the citadel of
+our circle and steal what did not belong to him? Pshaw, how could the
+poor fellow help it if an eccentric woman out of ennui--ah, no, we
+should not think of it! But--what is to be done now? Shall I sacrifice
+this superb creature to an insipid prejudice, because she sacrificed
+herself and everything else to a childish delusion? Where is the man
+pure enough to condemn you because when you give, you give wholly,
+royally, and in your proud self-forgetfulness fling what others would
+outweigh with kingly crowns into the lap of a beggar who can offer you
+nothing in exchange, not even appreciation of your value--which he is
+too uncultured to perceive.
+
+"Alas! such a woman--to be thrown away on such a man! And should I not
+save her? Should I weakly desert her--I, the only person who can
+forgive because I am the only one who _understands_ her?--No! It would
+be against all the logic of destiny and reason, were I to suffer such a
+life to be wrecked by this religious humbug. What is the use of my cool
+brain, if I lose my composure _now_? _Allons donc_! I will bid defiance
+to fate and to every prejudice, clasp her in my arms, and destroy the
+divine farce!"
+
+Such was the train of the duke's thoughts. But his pale face and
+joyless expression betrayed what he would not acknowledge to himself:
+that his happiness was shattered. He gathered up the fragments and
+tried to join them together--but with the secret grief with which we
+bear home some loved one who could not be witheld from a dangerous
+path, knowing that, though the broken limbs may be healed, he can never
+regain his former strength.
+
+"So grave, Duke?" asked a voice which sent the blood to his heart. The
+countess had entered--her step unheard on the soft carpet.
+
+He started up: "Madeleine--my poor Madeleine! I was thinking of you and
+your fate!"
+
+"I have saddened you!" she said, clasping her hands penitently.
+
+"Oh, no!" he drew the little hands down to his lips, and with a
+sorrowful smile kissed them.
+
+"My cheerfulness can bear some strain--but the malapert must be
+permitted to be silent sometimes when there are serious matters to be
+considered."
+
+"You are too noble to let me feel that you are suffering. Yet I see
+it--you would not be the man you are if you did not suffer to-day."
+
+The duke bit his lips, it seemed as if he were struggling to repress a
+tear: "Pshaw--we won't be sentimental! You have wept enough to-day! The
+world must not see tear-stains on your face. Give me a cup of coffee--I
+do not belong to the chosen few whom a mortal emotion raises far above
+all the needs of their mortal husk."
+
+The countess rang for breakfast.
+
+The servant brought the dishes ordered into the boudoir, as the
+dining-room was not yet thoroughly heated. In the chimney-corner beside
+the blazing fire the coffee was already steaming in a silver urn over
+an alcohol lamp, filling the cosy room with its aroma and musical
+humming.
+
+"How pleasant this is!" said the duke, throwing himself into an
+armchair beside the grave mistress of the house.
+
+"I will pour it myself," she said to the servant who instantly
+withdrew. The countess was now simply dressed in black, without an
+ornament of any kind, and with her hair confined in a plain knot.
+
+"What a contrast!" the duke remarked, smiling--"you alone are capable
+of such metamorphoses. Half an hour ago in a court costume, glittering
+with diamonds, an aching heart, and hands half frozen from being
+clasped in prayer in the chilled church, now a demure little housewife,
+peacefully watching the coffee steam in a cosy little room, waiting
+intently for the moment when the water will boil, as if there were no
+task in the whole world more important than that of making a good
+decoction."
+
+A faint smile glided over the countess' face--she had nearly allowed
+the important moment to pass. Now she poured out the coffee,
+extinguished the spirit lamp, and handed her companion a cup of the
+steaming beverage.
+
+"A thousand thanks! Ah, that's enough to brighten the most downcast
+mood! What comfort! Now let us enjoy an hour of innocent, genuine
+plebeian happiness. Ah--how fortunate the people are who live so every
+day. I should be the very man to enjoy such bliss!" His glance wandered
+swiftly to the countess' empty cup. "Aha! I thought so! A great sorrow
+must of course be observed by mortifying the body, in order to be sure
+to succumb to it. Well, then the guest must do the honors of the
+hostess! There, now _ma chere Madeleine_ will drink this, and dip this
+buscuit into it! One can accomplish that, even without an appetite. Who
+would wish to make heart and stomach identical!"
+
+The countess, spite of her protestations, was forced to obey. She saw
+that the duke had asked for breakfast only to compel her to eat.
+
+"There. You see that it can be done. I enjoy with a touch of emotion
+this coffee which your dear hands have prepared. If you would do the
+same with the cup I poured out what a sentimental breakfast it would
+be!" A ray of the old cheerfulness sparkled in the duke's eyes.
+
+"Ah, I knew that with you alone I should find peace and cheer!" said
+the countess, brightening.
+
+"So much the better." The duke lighted a cigarette and leaned
+comfortably back in his chair.
+
+The countess ordered the coffee equipage to be removed and then sat
+down opposite to him with her hands clasped in her lap.
+
+"The main point now, my dear Madeleine, if I may be allowed to speak of
+these things to you, is to release you from the cause of all the
+trouble--I need not name him. Of course I do not know how easy or how
+difficult this may be, because I am ignorant how far you are involved
+in this relation and unfortunately lack the long locks of the Christ,
+which would enable me successfully to play the part of the 'Good
+Shepherd,' who freed the imprisoned lamb from the thicket."
+
+"As if it depended on that!" said the countess.
+
+"Not at all? Oh, women, women! What will not a few raven locks do? The
+destiny of your lives turns upon just such trifles. Imagine that
+Ammergau Christus with close-cropped hair and a bristling red beard!
+Would that mask have suited the illusion to which you sacrificed
+yourself? Hardly!"
+
+The countess made no reply, silenced by the pitiless truth, but at last
+she thought she must defend herself. "And the religious impression, the
+elevation, the enthusiasm--the revelations of the Passion Play, do you
+count these nothing?"
+
+"Certainly not! I felt them myself, but, believe me, you would not have
+transferred them to the person, if the representative of Christ had
+worn a wig, and the next day had appeared before you with stiff,
+closely-cropped red hair."
+
+The countess made a gesture of aversion.
+
+"There, now you see the realist again. Yet, say what you will, a few
+locks of raven hair formed the net in which the haughty, clever
+Countess Wildenau was prisoned!"
+
+"You may be right, the greatest picture consists of details, and may be
+spoiled by a single one. I will confess it--Yes! The harmony of the
+whole person, down to the most trifling detail, with the Christ
+tradition, enthralled me, and had the locks been wanting, the
+impression would not have been complete. But, however I may have been
+deceived in the image, I cannot let myself and him sink so low in your
+opinion as to permit you to believe that it was nothing save an
+ensnaring outward semblance which sealed my fate! Had not his spiritual
+nature completed the illusion--matters would never have gone so far."
+
+"Yes, yes, I can imagine how it happened. You prompted the part, and he
+had skill enough to play to the prompter, as it is called in the
+parlance of the stage."
+
+"'Skill' is not the right word, he was influenced precisely as I was."
+
+"Ah! He probably would not have been so foolish as to refuse such a
+chance. A wealthy, beautiful woman--like you--"
+
+"No, no, do not speak of him in that way. I cannot let that accusation
+rest upon him. He is not base! He is uncultured, has the narrow-minded
+views of a peasant, is sensitive and capricious, an unfortunate
+temperament, with which it is impossible to live happily--but I know no
+one in the world, to whom any ignoble thought is more alien."
+
+The prince gazed at her admiringly. Tears were sparkling in her eyes.
+"I don't deny that I am bitterly disappointed in him--but though I love
+him no longer, I must not allow him to be insulted. He loved me and
+sacrificed his poor life for mine--that the compensation did not
+outweigh the price was no fault of his, and I ought not to make him
+responsible for it."
+
+The duke became very thoughtful. The countess was silent, she had
+clasped her hands on her knee, and was gazing, deeply moved, into
+vacancy.
+
+"You are a noble woman, Madeleine!" he said in a low tone. "I always
+ranked you high, but never higher than at this moment! I will never
+again wound your feelings. But however worthy of esteem Freyer
+may be, deeply as I pity the unfortunate man--you are my first
+consideration--and you cannot, must not continue in this relation.
+Throughout the whole system of the universe the lower existence must
+yield to the higher. You are the higher--therefore Freyer must be
+sacrificed! You are a philosopher--accept the results of your view of
+the world, be strong and resolve to do what is inevitable quickly. You
+yourself say that you no longer love him--whether you have ever done
+so, I will not venture to decide! If he is really what you describe him
+to be, he must feel this and--I believe, that he, too, is not to be
+envied. What kind of respite is this which you are granting the hapless
+man under the sword of the executioner. Pardon me, but I should term it
+torture. You feign, from motives of compassion, feelings you no longer
+have, and he feels the deception. So he is continually vibrating
+between the two extremes of fear and hope--a prey to the most torturing
+doubts. So you permit the victim whom you wish to kill to live, in
+order to destroy him slowly. You pity him--and for pity are cruel."
+
+The countess cast a startled glance at him. "You are terribly
+truthful."
+
+"I must say that I am sorry for that man," the duke went on in his
+usual manner. "I think it is your duty to end this state of things. If
+he has a good, mentally sound character, he will conquer the blow and
+shape his life anew. But such a condition of uncertainty would unnerve
+the strongest nature. This cat and mouse sport is unworthy of you! You
+tried it with me ten years ago in a less painful way--I, knowing women,
+was equal to the game, so no harm was done, and I could well allow you
+the graceful little pastime. It is different with Freyer. A man of his
+stamp, who stakes his whole life upon a single feeling, takes the
+matter more tragically, and the catastrophe was inevitable. But must
+romance be carried to tragedy? See, my dear friend, that it is confined
+within its proper limits. Besides, you have already paid for it dearly
+enough--it has left an indelible impress upon your soul--borne a fruit
+which matured in suffering and you have buried with anguish because
+destiny itself, though with a stern hand, tried to efface the
+consequences of your error. Heed this portent, for your sake and his
+own! I speak in his behalf also. My aim is not only to win you, but to
+see the woman whom I have won worthy of herself and the high opinion I
+cherish of her."
+
+The countess' features betrayed the most intense emotion. What should
+she do? Should she tell this noble man all--confess that she was
+_married_. The hour that he discovered it, he would desert her. Must
+she lose him, her last support and consolation? No, she dared not. The
+drowning woman clung to him; she knew not what was to come of it--she
+only knew that she would be lost without him--and kept silence.
+
+"Where is he? In the old hunting-box of which your cousin Wildenau
+spoke?" asked the duke after a long pause.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"As what?"
+
+"As steward."
+
+"Steward? H'm!"
+
+The duke shook his head. "What a relation; you made the man you loved
+your servant, and believed that you could love him still? How little
+you knew yourself! Had you seen him on the mountains battling with wind
+and storm as a wood-cutter, a shepherd, but free, you might have
+continued to love him. But as 'the steward' at whom the servants look
+with one eye as their equal, with the other as their mistress'
+favorite--never! You placed him in a situation where he could not help
+despising himself--how could you respect him? But a woman like you no
+longer loves where she can no longer esteem!" He was silent a moment,
+then with sudden determination exclaimed: "Do you understand what I say
+now? Not free yourself from him--but free _him_ from _himself_! You
+have done the same thing as the giantess who carried the farmer and his
+plough home in her apron. Do you understand what a deep meaning
+underlies Chamisso's comical tale? The words with which the old giant
+ordered her to take her prize back to the spot where she found it, say
+everything: 'The peasant is no plaything.' Only in the sphere where a
+man naturally belongs is he of value, but this renders him too good for
+a toy. You have transplanted Freyer to a sphere in which he ceased to
+have any value to you and are now making him play a part there which I
+would not impose on my worst enemy."
+
+"Yes, you are right."
+
+"Finally we owe it to those who were once dear to us, not to make them
+ridiculous! Or do you believe that Freyer, if he had the choice, would
+not have pride enough to prefer the most cruel truth to a compassionate
+lie?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"And still more. We owe it to the law of truthfulness, under which we
+stand as moral beings, not to continue deliberately a deception which
+was perhaps unconsciously begun. When self-respect is lost--all is
+lost."
+
+The duke rose: "It is time for me to go. Consider my advice, I can say
+nothing more in your interest and his."
+
+"But what shall I do--how am I to find a gentle way--oh! Heaven, I
+don't know how to help myself."
+
+"Do nothing at present, everything is still too fresh to venture upon
+any positive act--the wounds would bleed, and what ought to be severed
+would only grow together the more firmly. Go away for a time. You are
+out of favor with the queen. What is more natural than to go on a
+journey and sulk. To the so-called steward also, this must at present
+serve for a pretext to avoid a tragical parting scene."
+
+"Go now! Now!--leave--you?" she whispered, blushing as she spoke.
+
+"Madeleine," he said gently, drawing her hand to his breast. "How am I
+to interpret this blush? Is it the sign of a sweeter feeling, or
+embarrassment because circumstances have led you to say something which
+I might interpret differently from your intention?"
+
+She bent her head, blushing still more deeply.
+
+"Perhaps you do not know yourself--I will not torture you with
+questions, which your agitated heart cannot answer now. But if anything
+really does bind you to me, then--I would suggest your joining my
+father at Cannes. If even the faintest feeling of affection for me is
+stirring within you, you will understand that we could never be nearer
+to each other than while you were learning to be my old father's
+daughter! Will you?"
+
+"Yes!" she whispered with rising tears, for ever more beautiful, ever
+purer rose before her a happiness which she had forfeited, of which she
+would no longer be worthy, even could she grasp it.
+
+The duke, usually so sharp-sighted, could not guess the source of these
+tears; for the first time he was deceived and interpreted favorably an
+emotion aroused by the despairing perception that all was vain.
+
+He gazed down at her with a ray of love shining in his clear blue eyes,
+and pressed a kiss on her drooping brow. Then raising his hand, he
+pointed upward. "Only have courage, and hold your head high. All will
+yet be well. Adieu!"
+
+He moved away as proudly, calmly and firmly as if success was assured;
+he did not suspect that he was leaving a lost cause.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXV.
+
+                            DAY IS DAWNING.
+
+
+In the quiet chamber in the ancient hunting-castle, on the spot
+formerly occupied by the little bed, a casket now stood on two chairs
+near a wooden crucifix.
+
+Freyer had returned, bringing the body of his child. He had telegraphed
+to the countess, but received in reply only a few lines: "She was
+compelled to set off on a journey at once, her mind was so much
+affected that her physician had advised immediate change of scene to
+avert worse consequences."
+
+A check was enclosed to defray the funeral expenses and bestow a sum on
+Josepha "as a recognition of her faithful service," sufficient to
+enable her to live comfortably in case she wished to rest. Josepha
+understood that this was a gracious form of dismissal. But the royal
+gift which expressed the countess' gratitude did not avail to subdue
+the terrible rancor in her soul, or the harshness of this dismissal.
+
+Morning was dawning. Josepha was changed by illness almost beyond
+recognition, yet she had watched through the night with Freyer beside
+the coffin. Now she again glanced over the letter which had come the
+evening before. "She doesn't venture to send me away openly, and wants
+to satisfy me with money, that I may go willingly. Money, always money!
+I was forced to give up the child, and now I must lose you, too, the
+last thing I have in the world?" she said to Freyer, who was sitting
+silently beside the coffin of his son. Tearing the cheque, she threw it
+on the floor. "There are the fragments. When the child is buried, I
+know where I shall go."
+
+"You will not leave here, Josepha, as long as I remain. Especially now
+that you are ill. I have been her servant long enough. But this is the
+limit where I cease to yield to her caprices. She cannot ask me to give
+you up also, my relative, the only soul in my boundless solitude. If
+she did, I would not do it, for--no matter how lowly my birth, I am
+still her husband; have I no rights whatever? You will stay with me, I
+desire it, and can do so the more positively as my salary is sufficient
+to support you. So you need accept no wages from her."
+
+"Yes, tell her so, say that I want nothing--nothing except to stay with
+you, near my angel's grave." Sobs stifled her words. After a time, she
+continued faintly: "I shall not trouble her long, you can see that."
+
+"Oh, Josepha, don't fancy such things. You are young and will recover!"
+said Freyer consolingly, but his eyes rested anxiously upon her.
+
+She shook her head. "The child was younger still, yet he died of
+longing for his mother, and I shall die of the yearning for him."
+
+"Then let me send for a doctor--you cannot go on in this way."
+
+"Oh, pray don't make any useless ado--it would only be one person more
+to question me about the child, and I shall be on thorns while I am
+deceiving him. You know I never could lie in my life. Leave me in
+peace, no doctor can help me."
+
+Some one rang. Josepha opened the door. The cabinetmaker was bringing
+in a little coffin, which was to take the place of the box containing
+the leaden casket. Her black dress and haggard face gave her the
+semblance of a mother mourning her own child. Nothing was said during
+the performance of the work. Josepha and Freyer lifted the metal casket
+from the chest and placed it in the plain oak coffin. The man was paid
+and left the room. Freyer hastened out and shook the snow from some
+pine branches to adorn the bier. A few icicles which still clung to
+them thawed in the warm room, and the drops fell on the coffin--the
+tears of the forest! The last scion of the princely House of
+Prankenberg lay under frost-covered pine boughs; and a peasant mourned
+him as his son, a maid servant prepared him for his eternal rest. This
+is the bloodless revolution sometimes accomplished amid the ossified
+traditions of rank, which affords the insulted idea of universal human
+rights moments of loving satisfaction.
+
+The two mourners were calm and quiet. They seemed to have a premonition
+that this moment possessed a significance which raised it far above
+personal grief.
+
+An hour later the pastor came--a few men and maid-servants formed the
+funeral procession. Not far from the castle, in the wood, stood a
+ruinous old chapel. The countess had permitted the child to be buried
+there because the churchyard was several leagues away. "It is a great
+deal of honor for Josepha's child to be placed in the chapel of a noble
+family!" thought the people. "If haughty old Count Wildenau knew it, he
+would turn in his grave!" The coffin was raised and borne out of the
+castle. Josepha, leaning on Freyer, followed silently with fixed,
+tearless eyes and burning cheeks. Yet she succeeded in wading through
+the snow and standing on the cold stone floor in the chilly chapel
+beside the grave. But when she returned home, the measure of her
+strength was exhausted. Her laboring lungs panted for breath; her icy
+feet could not be warmed; her heart, throbbing painfully, sent all the
+blood to her brain, which burned with fever, while her thoughts grew
+confused. The terrible chill completed the work of destruction
+commenced by grief. Freyer saw it with unutterable sorrow.
+
+"I must get a doctor!" he said gently. "Come, Josepha, don't stare
+steadily at the empty space where the body lay. Come, I will take you
+to my room and put you on the bed. Everything there will not remind you
+of the boy."
+
+"No, I will stay here," she said, with that cruelty to herself,
+peculiar to sick persons who do not fear death. "Just here!" She clung
+to the uncomfortable sofa on which she sat as if afraid of being
+dragged away by force.
+
+Freyer hastily removed the chairs which had supported the coffin, the
+crucifix, and the candles.
+
+"Yes, put them out, you will soon need them for me. Oh, you
+kind-hearted man. If only you could have the happiness you deserve. You
+merited a better fate. Ah, I will not speak of what she has done to me,
+but her sins against you and the child nothing can efface--nothing!" A
+fit of coughing almost stifled her. But it seemed as if her eyes
+continued to utter the words she had not breath to speak, a feverish
+vengeance glittered in their depths which made Freyer fairly shudder.
+
+"Josepha," he said mildly, but firmly. "Sacrifice your hate to God, and
+be merciful. If you love me, you must forgive her whom I love and
+forgive."
+
+"Never!" gasped Josepha with a violent effort "Joseph--oh! this pain in
+my chest--I believe it is inflammation of the lungs!"
+
+"Alas!--and there is no one to send for the doctor. The men are all in
+the woods. Go to bed, I beg you, there is not a moment to be lost, I
+must get the doctor myself. I will send the house-maid to you. Keep up
+your courage, I will be as quick as I can!"
+
+And he hurried off, forgetting his grief for his child in his anxiety
+about the last companion of his impoverished life.
+
+The house-maid came in and asked if she could do anything, but Josepha
+wanted no assistance. The anxious girl tried to persuade her to go to
+bed, but Josepha said that she could not breathe lying down. At last
+she consented to eat something. The nourishment did her good, her
+weakness diminished and her breathing grew easier. The girl put some
+wood in the stove and returned to her work in the kitchen. Josepha
+remained lost in thought. To her, death was deliverance--but Freyer,
+what would become of him if he lost her also? This alone rendered it
+hard to die. The damp wood in the stove sputtered and hissed like the
+voices of wrangling women. It was the "fire witch," which always
+proclaims the approach of any evil. Josepha shook her head. What could
+be worse than the evil which had already befallen her poor cousin and
+herself? The fire witch continued to shriek and lament, but Josepha did
+not understand her. A pair of crows perched in an old pine tree outside
+the window croaked so suddenly that she started in terror.
+
+Ah, it was very lonely up here! What would it be when Freyer lived all
+alone in the house and waited months in vain for the heartless woman
+who remembered neither her husband nor her child? She had not troubled
+herself about the living, why should she seek the little grave where
+lay the _dead_?
+
+A loud knock on the door of the house echoed through the silence.
+
+Josepha listened. Surely it could not be the doctor already?
+
+The maid opened it. Heavy footsteps and the voices of men were heard in
+the entry, then a dog howled. The stupid servant opened the door of the
+room and called: "Jungfer Josepha, here are two hunters, who are so
+tired tramping over the snow that they would like to rest awhile. Can
+they come in? There is no fire anywhere else!"
+
+Josepha, though so ill, of course could not refuse admittance to the
+freezing men, who were already on the threshold. Rising with an effort
+from the sofa, she pushed some chairs for the strangers near the stove.
+"I am ill," she said in great embarrassment--"but if you wish to rest
+and warm yourselves here, I beg--"
+
+"We are very grateful," said one of the hunters, a gentleman with a red
+moustache and piercing eyes. "If we do not disturb you, we will gladly
+accept your hospitality. We are not familiar with the neighborhood and
+have lost our way. We came from beyond the frontier and have been
+wading through the snow five hours."
+
+Meanwhile, at a sign from Josepha, the maid-servant had taken the
+gentlemen's cloaks and hunting gear.
+
+"See, this is our booty," said the other hunter. "If we might invite
+you to dine with us, I should almost venture to ask if this worthy lass
+could not roast the hare for us? Our cousin, Countess Wildenau, will
+surely forgive us this little trespass upon her preserves."
+
+"Are you relatives of Countess Wildenau?"
+
+"Certainly, her nearest and most faithful ones!"
+
+Josepha, in her mortal weakness felt as if crushed by the presence of
+these strangers--with their heavy hunting-boots and loud voices. She
+tried to take refuge in the kitchen on the pretense of roasting the
+hare herself. But both gentlemen earnestly protested against it.
+
+"No, indeed, that would be fine business to drive you out of your room
+when you are ill! In that case, we must leave the house at once."
+
+The red-bearded gentleman--Cousin Wildenau himself--sprang from his
+chair and almost forced Josepha to go back to her sofa.
+
+"There, my dear--madam--or miss? Now do me the honor to take your seat
+again and allow us to remain a short time unto the roast is ready, then
+you must dine with us."
+
+A faint smile hovered around Josepha's parched lips. "I thank you, but
+I am too ill to eat."
+
+"You are really very ill"--said the stranger with kindly solicitude.
+"You are feverish. I fear we are disturbing you very much. Pray send us
+away if we annoy you." Yet he knew perfectly well that she could not
+help asking the unbidden guests to stay.
+
+"But my dear--madam--or miss?"--Josepha never answered the
+question--"are you doing nothing to relieve your illness, have you had
+no physician?"
+
+"No we are in such a secluded place, a physician cannot always be had.
+But I am expecting one to-day."
+
+"Why, it is strange to live in this wilderness. And how uncomfortable
+you are, you haven't even a stool," said the red-haired cousin putting
+his huge hunting-muff, after warming it at the stove, under her feet.
+
+Josepha tried to refuse it, but he would not listen.
+"You need not mind us, we are sick nurses ourselves, we commanded a
+sanitary battalion in the war. So we understand a little what to do.
+You are suffering from asthma, it is difficult for you to breathe, so
+you must sit comfortably. There! Now put my cousin's muff at your back.
+That's better, isn't it?"
+
+"But pray--"
+
+"Come, come, come--no contradiction. You must be comfortable."
+
+Josepha was ashamed. The gentlemen were so kind, so solicitous about
+her--there were good people in the world! The neglected, desolate heart
+gratefully appreciated the unusual kindness.
+
+"But I am really astonished to find everything so primitive. Our
+honored cousin really ought to have done something more for your
+comfort. Not even a sofa-cushion, no carpet! I should have thought she
+would have paid more attention to so faithful a--" he courteously
+suppressed the word "servant"--and correcting himself, said:
+"assistant!"
+
+Josepha made no answer, but her lips curled bitterly, significantly.
+
+Wildenau noted it. "Dissatisfied!" escaped his lips, so low that only
+his companion heard it.
+
+"You have been here a long time, I suppose--how many years?
+
+"Have I been with her?" said Josepha frankly. "Since the last Passion
+Play. That will be ten years next summer."
+
+"Ah--true--you are a native of Ammergau!" said the baron, with the
+manner of one familiar with the facts, whose memory has failed for an
+instant. "I suppose you came to the countess at the same time as the
+Christus?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Is he a relative of yours?"
+
+"Yes, my cousin."
+
+"He is here still, isn't he?"
+
+"Why, of course."
+
+"He is--her--what is his title?"
+
+"Steward."
+
+"Is he at home?"
+
+"No, he has gone to the city for a doctor."
+
+"Oh, I am very sorry. We should have been glad to make his
+acquaintance. We have heard so many pleasant things about him. A man in
+whom our cousin was so much interested--"
+
+"Then she speaks of him?"
+
+"Oh--to her intimate friends--certainly!" said Wildenau equivocally
+gazing intently at Josepha, whose face beamed with joy at the thought
+that the countess spoke kindly of Freyer.
+
+"Why is he never seen in the city? He must live like a hermit up here."
+
+"Yes, Heaven knows that."
+
+"He ought to visit my cousin sometimes in the city, everybody would be
+glad to know the Ammergau Christus."
+
+"But if she doesn't wish it--!" said Josepha thoughtlessly.
+
+"Why, that would be another matter certainly, but she has never told me
+so. Why shouldn't she wish it?" murmured Wildenau with well-feigned
+surprise.
+
+"Because she is ashamed of him!"
+
+"Ah!" Wildenau almost caught his breath at the significance of the
+word. "But, tell me, why does Herr Freyer--isn't that his name--submit
+to it?"
+
+Josepha shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, what can he do about it?"
+
+A pause ensued. Josepha stopped, as if fearing to say too much. The two
+gentlemen had become very thoughtful.
+
+At last Wildenau resumed the conversation. "I don't understand how a
+man who surely might find a pleasant position anywhere, can be so
+dependent on a fine lady's whims. You won't take it amiss, I see that
+your kinsman's position troubles you--were I in his place I would give
+up the largest salary rather than--"
+
+"Salary?" interrupted Josepha, with flashing eyes. "Do you suppose that
+my cousin would do anything for the sake of a salary? Oh, you don't
+know him. If the countess described him to you in that way, the shame
+is hers!"
+
+Wildenau listened intently. "But, my dear woman, that isn't what I
+meant, you would not let me finish! I was just going to add that such a
+motive would not affect your kinsman, that it could be nothing but
+sincere devotion, which bound him to our cousin--a loyalty which
+apparently wins little gratitude."
+
+"Yes, I always tell him so--but he won't admit it--even though his
+heart should break."
+
+Two dark interlaced veins in Josepha's sunken, transparent temples
+throbbed feverishly.
+
+"But--how do you feel? We are certainly disturbing you!" said the
+baron.
+
+"Oh, no! It does not matter!" replied Josepha, courteously.
+
+"Could you not take us into some other room--the countess doubtless
+comes here constantly--there must be other apartments which can be
+heated."
+
+"Yes, but no fire has been made in them for weeks; the stoves will
+smoke."
+
+"Has not the countess been here for so long?"
+
+"No, she scarcely ever comes now."
+
+"But the time must be very long to you and your cousin--you were
+doubtless accustomed to the countess' visits."
+
+"Certainly," replied Josepha, lost in thought--"when I think how it
+used to be--and how things are now!"
+
+Wildenau glanced around the room, then said softly: "And the little
+son--he is dead."
+
+Josepha stared at him in terror. "Do you know that?"
+
+"I know all. My cousin has his picture in her boudoir, a splendid
+child."
+
+Josepha's poor feverish brain was growing more and more confused. The
+tears she had scarcely conquered flowed again. "Yes, wasn't he--and to
+let such a child die without troubling herself about him!"
+
+"It is inexcusable," said Wildenau.
+
+"If the countess ever speaks of it again, tell her that Josepha loved
+it far more than she, for she followed it to the grave while the mother
+enjoyed her life--she must be ashamed then."
+
+"I will tell her. It is a pity about the beautiful child--was it not
+like an Infant Christ?"
+
+"Indeed it was--and now I know what picture you mean. In Jerusalem,
+where the child was christened, a copy as they called it of the Infant
+Christ hung in the chapel over the baptismal font. The countess
+afterwards bought the picture on account of its resemblance to the
+boy."
+
+"I suppose it resembles Herr Freyer, too?" the baron remarked
+carelessly.
+
+"Somewhat, but the mother more!"
+
+Baron Wildenau began to find the room too warm--and went to the window
+a moment to get the air, while his companion, horrified by these
+disclosures, shook his head. He would gladly have told the deluded
+woman that they had only learned the child's death from a wood-cutter
+whom they met in the forest--but he dared not "contradict" his cousin.
+After a pause, Wildenau again turned to Josepha. He saw that there was
+danger in delay, for at any moment the fever might increase to such a
+degree that she would begin to rave and no longer be capable of making
+a deposition: The truth must be discovered, now or never! He felt,
+however, that Josepha's was no base nature which could be led to betray
+her employer by ordinary means. Caution and reflection were necessary.
+
+"I am really touched by your fidelity to my cousin. Any one who can
+claim such a nature is fortunate. I thank you in her name."
+
+He held out his hand. But she replied with her usual blunt honesty: "I
+don't deserve your thanks, sir. I have not remained here for the sake
+of the countess, but on account of the child and my unfortunate cousin.
+She has been kind to me--but--if I should see her to-day, I would tell
+her openly that I would never forgive her treatment of the child and
+Joseph--no matter what she did. The child is dead and my cousin will
+die too. Thank Heaven, I shall not live to witness it."
+
+"I understand you perfectly--oh, I know my cousin. And--my poor dear
+Fraeulein Josepha--I may call you Fraeulein now, may I not, since you are
+no longer obliged to pass for the child's mother?--it was an
+unprecedented sacrifice for you--! Alas! My dear Fraeulein, you and your
+cousin must be prepared to fare still worse, to be entirely forgotten,
+for I can positively assure you that the countess is about to wed the
+Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim."
+
+"What?" Josepha shrieked loudly.
+
+Wildenau watched her intently.
+
+"She has just gone to Cannes, where the old duke is staying, and the
+announcement of the engagement is daily expected."
+
+"It is impossible--it cannot be!" murmured Josepha, trembling in every
+limb.
+
+"But why not? She is free--has a right to dispose of her hand--"
+Wildenau persisted.
+
+"No--she is not--she cannot marry," cried Josepha, starting from her
+sofa in despair and standing before them with glowing cheeks and red
+hair like a flame which blazes up once more before expiring. "For
+Heaven's sake--it would be a crime!"
+
+"But who is to prevent it?" asked Wildenau breathlessly.
+
+"I!" groaned Josepha, summoning her last strength.
+
+"You?--My dear woman, what can you do?"
+
+"More than you suppose!"
+
+"Then tell me, that we may unite to prevent the crime ere it is too
+late."
+
+"Yes, by Heaven! Before I will allow her to do Joseph this wrong--I
+will turn traitor to her."
+
+"But Herr Freyer has no right to ask the countess not to marry again--"
+
+"No right?" she repeated with terrible earnestness, "are you so sure of
+that?"
+
+"He is only the countess' lover--"
+
+"Her lover?" sobbed Josepha in mingled wrath and anguish: "Joseph, you
+noble upright man--must _this_ be said of you--!"
+
+"I don't understand. If he is not her lover--what is he?"
+
+Josepha could bear no more. "He is her husband--her legally wedded
+husband."
+
+The baron almost staggered under this unexpected, unprecedented
+revelation. Controlling himself with difficulty, he seized the sick
+woman's hand, as if to sustain her lest she should break down, ere he
+had extorted the last disclosure from her--the last thing he must know.
+"Only tell me where and by whom the marriage ceremony was performed."
+
+As if under the gaze of a serpent the victim yielded to the stronger
+will: "At Prankenburg--Martin and I--were witnesses." She slipped from
+his hand, her senses grew confused, her eyes became glassy, her chest
+heaved convulsively in the struggle for breath, but the one word which
+she still had consciousness to utter--was enough for the Wildenaus.
+
+When, a few hours later, Freyer returned with the physician and the
+priest, whom he had thoughtfully brought with him, he found Josepha
+alone on the sofa, speechless, and in the last agonies of death.
+
+The physician, after examining her, said that an acute inflammation of
+the lungs had followed the tuberculosis from which she had long
+suffered and hastened her end. The priest gave her the last sacrament
+and remained with Freyer, sitting beside the bed in which she had been
+laid. The death-struggle was terrible. She seemed to be constantly
+trying to tell Freyer something which she was unable to utter. Three
+times life appeared to have departed, and three times she rallied
+again, as if she could not die without having relieved her heart of its
+burden. Vain! It was useless for Freyer to put his ear to her lips, he
+could not understand her faltering words. It was a terrible night! At
+last, toward morning, she grew calm, and now she could die. Leaning on
+his breast, she ceased her struggles to speak, and slowly breathed her
+last. _She_ had conquered and she now knew that _he_ would conquer
+also. She bowed her head with a smile, and her last glance was fixed on
+him, a look of reconciliation rested on her Matures--her soul soared
+upward--day was dawning!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+                           THE LAST SUPPORT.
+
+
+There was alarm in the Wildenau Palace. The countess had suddenly
+returned, without notifying the servants--in plain words, without
+asking the servants' permission. She had intended to remain absent
+several months--they were not prepared, had nothing ready, nothing
+cleaned, not even a single room in her suite of apartments heated.
+
+She seemed absent-minded, went to her rooms at once, and locked herself
+in. Then her bell rang violently--the servants who were consulting
+together below scattered, the maids darted up the main staircase, the
+men up a side flight.
+
+"I want the coachman, Martin!" was the unexpected order.
+
+"Martin isn't here," the footman ventured to answer--"as we did not
+know ..."
+
+"Then send for him!" replied the countess imperiously. She did not
+appear even to notice the implied reproof. Then she permitted the
+attendant to make a fire on the hearth, for it was a raw, damp day in
+early spring, and after her stay in Cannes, the weather seemed like
+Siberia.
+
+Half an hour elapsed. Meanwhile the maids were unpacking, and the
+countess was arranging a quantity of letters she had brought with her.
+They were all numbered, and of ancient date. Among them was one from
+Freyer, written four weeks previously, containing only the words:
+
+"Even in death, Josepha has filled a mother's place to our child--she
+has rested in the chapel with him since this morning. I think you will
+not object to her being buried there.
+
+                                                      "Joseph."
+
+The countess again glanced at the letter, her eyes rested on the errors
+in orthography. Such tragical information, with so terrible a reproach
+between the lines--and the effect--a ludicrous one! She would gladly
+have effaced the mistakes in order not to be ashamed of having given
+this man so important a part in the drama of her life--but they stood
+there with the distinctness of a boy's unpractised hand. A man who
+could not even write correctly! She had not noticed it before, he wrote
+rarely and always very briefly--or had she possessed no eyes for his
+faults at that time? Yes, she must have been blind, utterly blind. She
+had not answered the letter. Now she tore it up and threw it into the
+fire. Josepha's death would have been a deliverance to her, had she not
+a few weeks later received another letter which she now read once more,
+panting for breath. But, however frequently she perused its contents,
+she found only that old Martin entreated her to return--Josepha had
+"blabbed."
+
+That one word in the stiff hand of the faithful old servant, which
+looked as if it might have been scrawled with a match upon paper
+redolent of the odors of the stable, had so startled the countess that
+she left Cannes by the first train, and traveled day and night to reach
+home. A nervous restlessness made the sheet tremble in her hand as she
+thrust it into the flames. Then she paced restlessly to and fro. Martin
+was keeping her waiting so long.
+
+A little supper had been hurriedly prepared and was now served. But
+the countess scarcely touched the food and, complaining that the
+dining-room was cold, crept back to her boudoir. At last, about half
+past nine, Martin was announced. He had gone to bed and they had been
+obliged to rouse him.
+
+"Is Your Highness going out?" asked the footman, who could not
+understand the summons to Martin.
+
+"If I am, you will receive orders for the carriage," replied his
+mistress, and a flash from her eyes silenced the servant. "Let Martin
+come in!" she added in a harsh, imperious tone.
+
+The man opened the door.
+
+"You are dismissed for to-night. The lights can be put out," she added.
+
+Martin stood, hat in hand, awaiting his mistress' commands. A few
+minutes passed, then the countess noiselessly went to the door to see
+that the adjoining rooms were empty and that no one was listening. When
+she returned she drew the heavy curtains over the door to deaden every
+sound. Then her self-control gave way and rushing to the old coachman
+she grasped his hand. "Martin, for Heaven's sake, what has happened?"
+
+Tears glittered in Martin's eyes, as he saw his mistress' alarm, and he
+took her trembling hands as gently as if they were the reins of a fiery
+blooded horse, on which a curb has been placed for the first time.
+"Ho--ho--dear Countess, only keep quiet, quiet," he said in the
+soothing tones used to his frightened steeds: "All is not lost! I
+didn't let myself be caught, and there's no proof of what Josepha
+blabbed."
+
+"So they tried to catch you? Tell me"--she was trembling--"how did they
+come to you?"
+
+"Well," said Martin clumsily, "this is how it was. They seem to have
+driven Josepha into a corner. At her funeral the cook told me that just
+before she died, two strangers came to the house and had a long
+conversation with the sick woman. When the hare she was ordered to cook
+was done, she carried it up. But the people in the room were talking so
+loud that she didn't dare go in and stood at the door listening.
+Something was said about the countess' favor and a crime, and Josepha
+was terribly excited. Suddenly she heard nothing more, Josepha
+stammered a few unintelligible words, and the gentlemen came out with
+faces as red as fire. They left the hare in the lurch--and off they
+went. Josepha died the same night. Then I thought they might be the
+Barons von Wildenau, because their coachman had often tried to pump me
+about our countess, and I said to myself, 'now I'll do the same to
+him.' And sure enough I found out that the gentlemen had gone away, and
+where? To Prankenberg!"
+
+The countess turned pale and sank into an arm-chair. "There,
+there--Your Highness, don't be troubled," Martin went on calmly--"that
+will do them no good, the church books don't lie open on the tavern
+tables like bills of fare, and the old pastor will not let everybody
+meddle with them."
+
+"The old pastor?" cried the countess despairingly--"he is dead, and
+since my father, the prince, has grown weak-minded, the patronage has
+lapsed to the government. The new pastor has no motive for showing us
+any consideration."
+
+"So the old pastor is dead? H'm, H'm!" Martin for the first time shook
+his head anxiously. "If one could only get a word from His Highness the
+Prince--just to find out whether the marriage was really entered in the
+record."
+
+"Yes, if we knew that!"
+
+Martin smiled with a somewhat embarrassed look. "I ventured to take a
+little liberty--and went--I thought I would try whether I could find
+out anything from him? Because His Highness--you remember--followed us
+to Prankenberg."
+
+"Very true!" The countess nodded in the utmost excitement. "Well?"
+
+"Alas!--it was useless! His Highness doesn't know anybody, can remember
+nothing. When you go over to-morrow, you will see that he can't live
+long. His Highness is perfectly childish. Then he got so excited that
+we thought he would lose his breath, and at last had to be put to bed.
+I could not help weeping when I saw it--such a stately gentleman--and
+now so helpless!"
+
+The countess listened to this report with little interest. Her father
+had been nothing to her while he retained his mental faculties--now, in
+a condition of slow decay, he was merely a poor invalid, to whom she
+performed the usual filial duties.
+
+"Go on, go on," she cried impatiently, "you are not telling the story
+in regular order. When did you see my father?"
+
+"A week ago, after my talk with the gentlemen."
+
+"That is the main thing--tell me about that."
+
+"Why, it was this way: I was sitting quietly at the tavern one night,
+when Herr von Wildenau's coachman came to me again and said that his
+master wanted to talk with me about our bay mare with the staggers
+which he would like to harness with his bay. I was glad that we could
+get the mare off on him."
+
+"Fie, Martin!"
+
+"Why--if nobody tried to cheat, there wouldn't be any more
+horse-trading! So I told him I thought the countess would sell the
+mare--we had no mate for her and I would inform Your Highness. No, the
+gentleman would write directly to Her Highness--only I must go to them,
+they wanted to talk with me. Well--I went, and they shut all the doors
+and pulled the curtains over them, just as your Highness did, and then
+they began on the bay and promised me a big fee, if I would get her
+cheap for them. Every coachman takes a fee," the old man added in an
+embarrassed tone, "it's the custom--you won't be vexed, Countess--so I
+made myself a bit important and pretended that it depended entirely on
+me, and I would make Her Highness so dissatisfied with the mare that
+she would be glad to get rid of her cheap, and--all the rest of the
+things we coachmen say! So the gentlemen thought because I bargained
+with them about one thing, I would about another. But that was quite
+different from a horse-trade, and my employers are no animals to be
+sold, so they found that they had come to the wrong person. If I would
+make a little extra money by getting rid of a poor animal, which we had
+long wanted to sell, I'm not the rascal to take thousands from anybody
+to deprive my employers of house and home. And the poor old Prince,
+who can no longer help himself, would perhaps be left to starve in his
+old age. No, the gentlemen were mistaken in old Martin, they don't
+know what it is"--tears were streaming down the old man's wrinkled
+cheeks--"to put such a little princess on a horse for the first time
+and place the reins in her tiny hands."
+
+"Please go on Martin," said the countess gently, scarcely able to exert
+any better control over herself. "What did they offer you?"
+
+"A great deal of money, if I would bear witness in court that you were
+married."
+
+"Ah!"--the terrified woman covered her face with her hands.
+
+"There--there, Countess," said Martin, soothingly. "I haven't finished!
+Hold your head up. Your Highness, I beg you, this is no time to be
+faint-hearted, we must be on the watch and keep the reins well in hand,
+that they may not get the start of us."
+
+"Yes, yes! Go on!"
+
+"Well, they tried to catch me napping. They knew everything, and I had
+been a witness of the wedding at Prankenberg!"
+
+"Good Heavens!" The countess seemed paralyzed.
+
+Martin laughed. "But I didn't let myself be caught--I looked as stupid
+as if I couldn't bridle a horse, and had never heard of any wedding in
+all my days except our Princess' marriage to the late Count. Of course
+I was at the church then, with all the other servants. Then the
+gentlemen muttered something in French--and asked what wages I had, and
+when I told them, they said they were too low for such rich employers,
+and began to make me offers till they reached fifty thousand marks, if
+I would state what they wanted. Yes, and then they told me you were
+capable of marrying two men and meant to take the duke as well as the
+steward, and they didn't want to have such a crime in the family--so I
+must help them prevent it. But this didn't move me at all, and I said:
+'That's no concern of mine; my mistress knows what to do!' So off I
+went, and left the gentlemen staring like balky horses when they don't
+want to pass anything. Then I went to the Prince, and as I could learn
+nothing there, I knew of no other way than to write to Your Highness. I
+hope you'll pardon the liberty."
+
+"Oh, Martin, you trusty old servant! Your simple loyalty shames me; but
+I fear that your sacrifice is useless--they know all, Martin, nothing
+can save me."
+
+Martin smiled craftily into the bottom of his hat, as if it was the
+source of his wisdom, "I think just this: If the gentlemen _do_ know
+everything, they have got to _prove_ it, for Josepha is dead, and if
+they had found the information they wanted at Prankenberg, they needn't
+offer so much money for my testimony!"
+
+The countess pressed her hand upon her head: "I don't know, I can't
+think any more. Oh, Martin, how shall I thank you? If the stroke of the
+pen which will give you the fifty thousand marks you scorned to receive
+from the Wildenaus can repay you--take it, but I shall still be your
+debtor." She hurriedly wrote a few words. "There is a check for fifty
+thousand marks, cash it early to-morrow morning. Don't delay an hour,
+any day may be the last that I shall have anything to give. Take it
+quickly."
+
+But Martin shook his head. "Why, what is Your Highness thinking of? I
+don't want to be paid, like a bribed witness, for doing only my duty.
+There would have been no credit in refusing the money, if I took it
+afterward from Your Highness. No, I thank you most humbly--but I can't
+do it."
+
+The countess was deeply ashamed. "But if I lose my property, Martin, if
+they begin a law-suit--I can no longer reward your fidelity. Have you
+considered that everything can be taken from me if they succeed in
+proving that I am married?"
+
+Martin nodded: "Yes, yes, I know our late master's will. I believe he
+was jealous and wanted to prevent the countess from marrying again. But
+you needn't be troubled about me, I've saved enough to buy a little
+home which, in case of need, might shelter the countess and Herr
+Freyer, too. I have had it all from you!" Martin's broad face beamed
+with joy at the thought.
+
+"Martin!"--she could say no more. Martin did not know what had
+happened--surely the skies would fall--the countess had sunk upon his
+breast, the broad old breast in which throbbed such a stupid, honest
+heart! He stood as motionless as a post or the pile of a bridge, to
+which a drowning person clings. But, during all the sixty-five years
+his honest heart had beat under the Prankenberg livery, it had never
+throbbed so violently as at this moment. His little princess! She was
+in his arms again as in the days when he placed her in the saddle for
+the first time. Then she wept and clung to him whenever the horse made
+a spring, but he held her firmly and she felt safe in his care--now she
+again wept and clung to him in helpless terror--but now she was a
+stately woman who had outgrown his protection!
+
+"There--there, Countess," he said, soothingly. "God will help you. Go
+to rest. You are wearied by the long journey. To-morrow you will see
+everything with very different eyes. And, as I said before, if all the
+ropes break--then you will find lodging with old Martin. You always
+liked peasants' fare. Don't you remember how you used to slip in to the
+coachman's little room and shared my bread and cheese till the
+governess found it out and spoiled our fun? Yes, yes, bread and cheese
+were forbidden dainties, and yet they were God's gift which even the
+poorest might enjoy. You must remember the coachman's little room and
+how they tasted! Well, we haven't gone so far yet, and Your Highness'
+friends will not suffer it. Yet, if matters ever _did_ come to that, I
+believe Your Highness would rather accept a home from me than from any
+of these noblemen."
+
+"You may be right there!" said the countess, with a thoughtful nod.
+
+"May God guard Your Highness from either.--Has Your Highness any
+farther orders?"
+
+"Yes, my good Martin. Go early to-morrow morning to the Prince--or
+rather the Duke of Metten-Barnheim--and ask him to call on me at ten
+o'clock."
+
+"Alas--the duke went to shoot black cock this morning--I suppose he
+didn't know that Your Highness was coming?"
+
+"Certainly not How long will he be away?"
+
+"Till the end of the week, his coachman told me."
+
+"This too!" She stood in helpless despair.
+
+"The coachman said that His Highness was going to Castle
+Sternbach--perhaps Your Highness might telegraph there!"
+
+"Yes, my good old friend--you are right!" And with eager haste she
+wrote a telegram. "There it is, Martin, it will reach him somewhere!"
+
+And she remembered the message despatched nine years before, after the
+Passion Play, to the man whom she was now recalling as her last
+support. At that time she informed him that she should stay in Ammergau
+and let the roses awaiting her at home wither--now she remained at home
+and let the roses that bloomed for her in Ammergau languish.
+
+The coachman, as if reading the mute language of her features and the
+bitter expression of her compressed lips, asked timidly: "I suppose
+Your Highness will not drive to the Griess."
+
+"No!" she said, so curtly and hastily that it cut short any farther
+words.
+
+For the first time a shadow flitted over honest Martin's face. Sadly,
+almost reproachfully, he wished his beloved mistress "a good night's
+rest," and stumbled wearily out. It had hurt him,--but "the last thing
+he had discovered," he did not venture, out of respect to his employer,
+to express even to himself.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+                     BETWEEN POVERTY AND DISGRACE.
+
+
+Three weary days had passed. The countess was ill. At least she
+permitted her household to believe that she was unable to leave her
+room. No one was allowed to know that she had returned, and the windows
+of the Wildenau Palace remained closed, as when the owner was absent
+Thus condemned to total inactivity in the twilight of her apartments,
+she became the helpless prey of her gnawing anxiety. The third day
+brought a glimmer of hope, a telegram from the duke: "I will come at
+six this evening."
+
+The countess trembled and turned pale as she read the lines. What was
+to be done now? She did not know, she only felt that the turning-point
+of her life had come.
+
+"The Duke of Metten-Barnheim will call this evening and must be
+admitted, but no one else!" were the orders given to the servant.
+
+Then, to pass away the time, she changed her dress. If she was to be
+poor and miserable, to possess nothing she formerly owned; she would at
+least be beautiful, beautiful as the setting sun which irradiates
+everything with rosy light.
+
+And with the true feminine vanity which coquets with death and finds a
+consolation in being beautiful even in the coffin, she chose for the
+momentous consultation impending one of the most bewitching negligee
+costumes in her rich wardrobe. Ample folds of rose-colored _crepe de
+chine_ were draped over an under-dress of pink plush, which reflected a
+thousand shades from the deepest rose to the palest flesh color, the
+whole drapery loosely caught with single grey pearls. How long would
+she probably possess such garments? She perhaps wore it to-day for the
+last time. Her trembling hand was icy cold, as she wound a pink ribbon
+through her curls and fastened it with a pearl clasp.
+
+There she stood, like Aphrodite, risen from the foam of the sea,
+and--she smiled bitterly--she could not even raise herself from the
+mire into which a single error had lured her. Then she was again
+overwhelmed by an unspeakable consciousness of misery, her disgrace,
+which made all her splendor seem a mockery. She was on the point of
+stripping off the glittering robe when the duke was announced. It was
+too late to change.
+
+She hurried into the boudoir to meet him--floating in like a roseate
+cloud.
+
+"How beautiful!" exclaimed the duke, admiringly; "you look like a
+bride! It must be some joyful cause which brought you back here so soon
+and made you send for me."
+
+"On the contrary, Duke--a bride of misfortune--a penitent who would
+fain varnish the ugliness of her guilt in her friend's eyes by outward
+beauty."
+
+"H'm! That would be at any rate a useless deed, Madeleine; for
+beautiful as you are, I do not love you for your beauty's sake. Nor is
+it for your virtues--you never aspired to be a saint, not even in
+Ammergau, where you least succeeded! What I love is the whole grand
+woman with all her faults, who seems to have been created for me, in
+spite of the obstacles reared between us by temperament and
+circumstances. The latter are accidents which may prevent our union,
+but which cannot deprive me of my share in you, the part which _I_
+alone understand, and which I shall love when I see you before me as a
+white-haired matron, weary of life--perhaps then for the first time."
+
+Emotion stifled the countess' words. She drew him down upon a chair by
+her side and sank feebly upon the cushions of her divan.
+
+"Oh, how cold your hands are!" said the duke, gazing with loving
+anxiety into her eyes. "You alarm me. Spite of your rosy glimmer, you
+are pale as your own pearls. And now pearls in your eyes too?
+Madeleine--my poor tortured Madeleine--what has happened?"
+
+"Oh, Duke--help, advise me--or all is lost. The Wildenaus have
+discovered my secret. Josepha, that half-crazy girl from Ammergau, has
+betrayed me!"
+
+"So that is her gratitude for the life you saved." The duke nodded as
+if by no means surprised. "It was to be expected from that sort of
+person. Why did you preserve the fool?"
+
+"I could not let her leap into the water."
+
+"Perhaps it would have been better! This sham-saint had not even
+sufficient healthful nature in her to be grateful?"
+
+"Ah, she had reason to hate me, she loved my child more than any
+earthly thing and reproached me for having neglected it. These people
+can imagine love only in the fulfillment of lowly duties and physical
+attendance. That a woman can have no time or understanding of these
+things, and yet love, is beyond their comprehension."
+
+"A fine state of affairs, where the servant makes herself the judge of
+her mistress--nay even discovers in her conduct an excuse for the
+basest treachery. A plain maid-servant, properly reared by her parents,
+would have fulfilled her duty to her employers without philosophizing."
+
+The countess nodded, she was thinking of old Martin.
+
+"But," the duke continued, "extra allowance must of course be made for
+these Ammergau people."
+
+"We will let her rest; she is dead. Who knows how it happened, or the
+struggles through which she passed?"
+
+"Is she dead?"
+
+"Yes, she died just after the child."
+
+"Indeed?" said the duke, thoughtfully, in a gentler tone: "Well, then
+at least she has atoned. But, my dear Madeleine, this does not undo the
+disaster. The Wildenaus will at any rate try to make capital out of
+their knowledge of your secret, and, as the dear cousins are constantly
+incurring gaming and other debts--especially your red-haired kinsman
+Fritz--they will not let slip the opportunity of making their honored
+cousin pay for their discretion the full amount of their notes!"
+
+"Ah, if that were all!"
+
+"That all! What more could there be? I admit that it is unspeakably
+painful for you to know that your honor and your deepest secrets are in
+such hands--but how long will it be ere, if it please God, you will be
+in a position which will remove you from it all, and I--!"
+
+"Duke--Good Heavens!--It is far worse," cried the countess, wringing
+her hands: "Oh, merciful God--at last, at last, it must be told. You do
+not know all, the worst--I had not courage to tell you--are you aware
+of the purport of my late husband's will?"
+
+"Certainly--it runs that you must restore the property, of which he
+makes you sole heiress, to the cousins, if you marry again. What of
+that--do you suppose I ever thought of your millions?" He laughed
+gayly: "I flatter myself that my finances will not permit you to feel
+the withdrawal of your present income when you are my wife."
+
+"Omnipotent Father!--You do not understand me! This is the moment I
+have always dreaded--oh, had I only been truthful. Duke, forgive me,
+pity me, I am the most miserable creature under the sun. I shall not be
+your wife, but a beggar--for I am married, and the Wildenaus know it
+through Josepha!"
+
+There are moments when it seems as if the whole world was silent--as if
+the stars paused in their courses to listen, and we hear nothing save
+the pulsing of the blood in our ears. It is long ere we perceive any
+other sound. This was the case with the duke. For a long time he seemed
+to himself both deaf and blind. Then he heard the low hissing of the
+gas jets, then heavy breathing, and at last the earth began to turn on
+its axis again and things resumed their natural relations.
+
+Yet his energetic nature did not need much time to recover its poise.
+One glance at the hopeless, drooping woman showed him that this was not
+the hour to think of himself--that he never had more serious duties to
+perform than to-day. Now he perceived for the first time that he had
+unconsciously retreated from her half the length of the room.
+
+She held out her hand imploringly, and with the swiftness of thought he
+was once more at her side, clasping it in his own. "I have concealed
+this, deceived your great, noble love--for years--because I perceived
+that you were as necessary to my life as reason and science and all the
+other gifts I once undervalued. I did not venture to reveal the secret,
+lest I should lose you. The moment has come--you will leave me, for you
+must now make another choice--but do not be angry, grant me the _one_
+consolation of parting without rancor."
+
+"We have not yet gone so far. I told you ten minutes ago that the
+accidents of temperament and circumstance may divide us, but cannot rob
+you of what was created for me, we do not part so quickly.--You have
+not deceived me, for you have never told me that you loved me or would
+become my wife, and your bearing was blameless. Your husband might have
+witnessed every moment of our intercourse. Believe me, the slightest
+coquetry, the smallest concession in my favor at your husband's expense
+would find in me the sternest possible judge. But though an unhappy
+wife, you were a loyal one--to that I can bear witness. If I yielded to
+illusions, it is no fault of yours--who can expect a nature so
+delicately strung as yours to make an executioner of the heart of her
+best friend? Those are violent measures which would not accord with the
+sweet weakness, which renders you at once so guilty and so excusable."
+
+The countess hid her face as if overwhelmed by remorse and shame.
+
+"Do not let us lose our composure and trust to me to care for you
+still, for your present position requires the utmost caution and
+prudence. But now, Madeleine--you have no further pretext for not
+telling me the whole truth! Now I must know _all_ to be able to act.
+Will you answer my questions?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then tell me--are you really married to Freyer?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"So the farce must end tragically!" murmured the duke. "I cannot, will
+not believe it--it is too shocking that a woman like you should be
+ruined by the Ammergau farce."
+
+"Not by that; by the presumption with which I sought to draw the deity
+down to me. Oh, it is a hard punishment. I prayed so fervently to God
+and, instead of His face, He showed me a mask and then left me to atone
+for the deception by the repentance of a whole life."
+
+"Ah, can you really believe that the Highest Wisdom would have played
+so cruel a masquerade with you? Why should you be so terribly punished?
+No, _ma chere amie_, God has neither deceived nor wished to punish you.
+He showed Himself in response to your longing, or rather your longing
+made you imagine that you saw Him--and had you been content with that,
+you would have returned home happy with the vision of your God in your
+heart, like thousands who were elevated by the Passion Play. But you
+wanted _more_; you possess a sensuous religious nature, which cannot
+separate the essence from the _appearance_ and, after having _seen_,
+you desired to _possess_ Him in the precise form in which He appeared
+to you! Had it depended upon you, you would have robbed the world of
+its God! Fortunately, it was only Herr Freyer whom you stole, and now
+that you perceive your error you accuse God of having deceived you. You
+talk constantly of your faith in God, and yet have so poor an opinion
+of Him? What had God to do with your imagining that the poor actor in
+the Passion Play, who wore His mask, must be Himself, and therefore
+wedded him!"
+
+The countess made no reply. This was the tone which she could never
+endure. He was everything to her--her sole confidant and counselor--but
+he could not comprehend what she had experienced during the Passion
+Play.
+
+"I am once more the dry sceptic who so often angered you, am I not?"
+said the Prince, whose keen observation let nothing escape. "But I
+flatter myself that you will be more ready to view matters from a sober
+standpoint after having convinced yourself of the dangers of
+intercourse with 'phantoms' and demi-gods, who lure their victims into
+devious paths where they are liable morally to break their necks."
+
+The countess could not help smiling sorrowfully. "You are
+incorrigible!"
+
+"Well, we must take things as they are. As you will not confess that
+you--pardon the frankness--have committed a folly and ruined your life
+for the sake of a fanciful whim, the caprice must be elevated to the
+rank of a 'dispensation of Providence,' and the inactive endurance of
+its consequences a meritorious martyrdom. But I do not believe that God
+is guilty either of your marriage or of your self-constituted
+martyrdom, and therefore I tell you that I do not regard your marriage,
+to use the common parlance, one of those 'made in Heaven'--in other
+words, an _indissoluble_ one."
+
+The countess shrank as though her inmost thoughts were suddenly
+pointing treacherous fingers at her. "Do you take it so lightly, Duke?"
+
+"That I do not take it lightly is proved by the immense digression
+which I made to remove any moral and religious scruples. The practical
+side of the question scarcely requires discussion. But to settle the
+religious moral one first, tell me, was your marriage a civil or
+religious one?"
+
+"Religious."
+
+"When and where?"
+
+"At Prankenberg, after the Passion Play. It will be ten years next
+August."
+
+"How did it all happen?"
+
+"Very simply: My father, who suddenly sought me, as usual when he was
+in debt, saw that I wanted to marry Freyer and, fearing a public
+scandal, advised me, in order to save the property--which he needed
+almost more than I--to marry _secretly_. Wherever the Tridentine
+Council ruled, the sole requisite of a valid marriage was that the two
+persons should state, in the presence of an ordained priest and two
+witnesses, that they intended to marry. As my father was never very
+reliable, and might change his opinion any day, I hastened to follow
+his advice before it occurred to him to put any obstacles in my way, as
+the pastor at Prankenberg was wholly in his power. So I set off with
+Freyer and Josepha that very night. An old coachman, Martin, whose
+fidelity I had known from childhood, lived at Prankenberg. I took him
+and Josepha for witnesses, and we surprised the old pastor while he was
+drinking his coffee."
+
+The prince made a gesture of surprise. "What--over his coffee?"
+
+"Yes--before he could push back his cup, we had made our statement--and
+the deed was done."
+
+The prince started up; his eyes sparkled, his whole manner betrayed the
+utmost agitation. "And you call that being married? And give me this
+fright?" He drew a long breath, as if relieved of a burden. "Madeleine,
+if you had only told me this at once!"
+
+"But why? Does it change the matter?"
+
+"Surely you will not persuade yourself that this farce with the old
+pastor in his dressing-gown and slippers, his morning-pipe and the
+fragrance of Mocha--was a wedding? You will not expect me as a
+Protestant, or any enlightened Catholic, to regard it in that light?"
+
+"But what does the form matter? Protestantism cares nothing for the
+form--it heeds only the meaning."
+
+"But the meaning was lacking--at least to you--to you it was a mere
+form which you owed to the sanctity of your lover's mask of Christus."
+He seized her hand with unwonted passion. "Madeleine, for once be
+truthful to yourself and to me--am I not right?"
+
+"Yes!" she murmured almost inaudibly.
+
+"Well, then--if the _meaning_ was lacking and the chosen form an
+_illegal_ one--what binds you?"
+
+Madeleine was silent. This question was connected with her secret,
+which he would never understand. His nature was too positive to reckon
+with anything except facts. The duke felt that she was withholding an
+answer, not because she had none, but because she did not wish to give
+the true one. But he did not allow himself to be disconcerted. "Did the
+old pastor give you any written proof of this 'sacred rite'--we will
+give it the proud name of a marriage certificate."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Who has the document?"
+
+"Freyer!"
+
+"That is unfortunate; for it gives him an apparent right to consider
+himself married and make difficulties, which complicate the case. But
+we can settle with Freyer--I have less fear of him. Your situation is
+more imperilled by this tale of a secret marriage, which Josepha, in
+good faith, brought to the ears of the Wildenaus. This is a disaster
+which requires speedy remedy. In other respects everything is precisely
+as it was when you went to Cannes. This complication changes nothing in
+my opinion. I hold the same view. If you no longer _love_ Freyer, break
+with him; the way of doing so is a minor matter. I leave it to you. But
+break with him and give me your hand--then the whole spectre will melt.
+We will gladly restore the Wildenau property to the cousins, and they
+will then have no farther motive for pursuing the affair."
+
+"Is that true? Could you still think seriously of it--and I, good
+Heavens, must I become doubly a criminal?"
+
+"But, _chere amie_, look at things objectively a little."
+
+"Even if I do look at them objectively, I don't understand how I could
+marry again without being divorced, and to apply for a divorce now
+would be acknowledging the marriage."
+
+"Who is to divorce you, if no one married you? According to civil law,
+you are still single, for you are not registered in accordance with
+your rank--according to religious law you are not married, at least not
+in the opinion of the great majority of Christian countries and sects,
+to whom the Tridentine Council is not authoritative! Will you insist
+upon sacrificing your existence and honor to a sentimental scruple?
+Will you confess to the Wildenaus that you are married? In that case
+you must not only restore the property, but also the interest you have
+illegally appropriated for nine years, which will swallow your little
+private property and rob you of your sole means of support. What will
+follow then? Do you mean to retire with the 'steward' from the scene
+amid the jeering laughter of society, make soup for him at his home in
+Ammergau, live by the labor of his hands, and at Christmas receive the
+gift of a calico gown?"
+
+The countess shuddered, as though shaken by a feverish chill.
+
+"Or will you continue to live on with Freyer as before and suffer the
+cousins to begin an inquiry against you, and afford the world the
+spectacle of seeing you wrangle with them over the property? Then you
+must produce the dogmatic and legal proof that you are not married.
+This certainly would not be difficult--but I must beg you to note
+certain possibilities. If it is decided that your marriage was
+_illegal_, then the question will be brought forward--how did _you
+yourself_ regard it? And it might occur to the Wildenaus' lawyers that,
+no matter whether correctly or not, you considered yourself married and
+intentionally defrauded them of the property!"
+
+"Merciful Heaven!"
+
+"Or will you then escape a criminal procedure by declaring that you
+regarded your connection with Freyer as an illegal marriage?"
+
+"Oh!" the countess crimsoned with shame.
+
+"There the vindication would be more dishonoring than the
+accusation--so you must renounce _that_. You see that you have been
+betrayed into a _circulus vitiosus_ from which you can no longer
+escape. Wherever you turn--you have but the choice between poverty or
+disgrace,--unless you decide to become Duchess of Metten-Barnheim and
+thus, at one bound, spring from the muddy waves which now threaten you,
+into the pure, unapproachable sphere of power and dignity to which you
+belong. My arms are always open to save you--my heart is ready to love
+and to protect you--can you still hesitate?"
+
+The tortured woman threw herself at his feet. "Duke--Emil--save me--I
+am _yours_!"
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+                                PARTING.
+
+
+Several minutes have passed--to the duke a world of happiness--to the
+countess of misery. The duke bent over the beautiful trembling form to
+clasp her in his arms for the first time.
+
+"Have I won you at last--my long-sought love?" he exclaimed,
+rapturously. "Do you now perceive what your dispensations of Providence
+mean? The shrewdness and persistence of a single man who knows what he
+wants, has baffled them, and driven all the heroes of signs and wonders
+from the field! Do you now believe what I said just now: that we are
+our own Providence?"
+
+"That will appear in due time, do not exalt yourself and do not
+blaspheme, God might punish your arrogance!" she said faintly, slipping
+gently from his embrace.
+
+"Madeleine--no betrothal kiss--after these weary years of waiting and
+hoping."
+
+"I am _still_ Freyer's wife," she said, evasively--"not until I am
+parted from him."
+
+"You are right! I will not steal my bride's first kiss from another. I
+thank you for honoring my future right in his." His lips touched her
+brow with a calm, friendly caress. Then he rose: "It is time to go, I
+have not a moment to lose." He glanced at the clock: "Seven! I will
+make my preparations at once and set out for Prankenberg to-morrow."
+
+"What do you wish to do?"
+
+"First of all to see what is recorded in the church register, and to
+ascertain what kind of a man the Catholic pastor is, that I may form
+some idea of what the Wildenaus have discovered and how much proof they
+have obtained. Then we can judge how far we must dissimulate with these
+gentlemen until your relation with Freyer can be dissolved without any
+violent outbreak or without being compelled to use any undue haste. I
+will also go to Barnheim and quietly prepare everything there for our
+marriage. The more quickly all these business matters are settled, the
+sooner our betrothal can be announced. And that I am ardently longing
+to be at last permitted to call you mine, you will--I hope,
+understand?"
+
+"But my relation with Freyer must first be arranged," said the
+countess, evasively. "We cannot dispose of him like an ordinary
+business matter. He is a man of heart and mind--we must remember that I
+could not be happy for an hour, if I knew that he was miserable."
+
+"Yet you have left him alone for weeks and months without any pangs of
+conscience," said the duke with a shade of sternness.
+
+"It was not _I_, but the force of circumstances. What happens now _I_
+shall do--and must bear the responsibility. Help me to provide that it
+is not too heavy." Her face wore a lofty, beautiful expression as she
+spoke, and deeply moved, he raised her hand to his lips.
+
+"Certainly, Madeleine! We will show him every consideration and do
+everything as forbearingly as possible. But remember that, as I just
+respected _his_ rights, you must now guard _mine_, and that every hour
+in which you retain this relation to him longer than necessary--is
+treason to _both_. It cannot suit your taste to play such a part--so do
+not lose a moment in renouncing it."
+
+"Certainly--you are right."
+
+"Will you be strong--will you have the power to do what is
+unavoidable--and do it soon?"
+
+"I have always been able to do what I desired--I can do this also."
+
+The duke took her hand and gazed long and earnestly into her eyes.
+"Madeleine--I do not ask: do you love me? I ask only: do you believe
+that you _will_ love me?"
+
+The profound modesty of this question touched her heart with
+indescribable melancholy, and in overflowing gratitude for such great
+love, which gave all and asked nothing, she bowed her head: "Yes--I do
+believe it."
+
+The duke's usual readiness of speech deserted him--he had no words to
+express the happiness of this moment.
+
+What was that? Voices in the ante-room. The noise sounded like a
+dispute. Then some one knocked violently at the door.
+
+"Come in!" cried the countess, with a strange thrill of fear. The
+footman entered hurriedly with an excited face. "A gentleman, he calls
+himself 'Steward Freyer,' is there, is following close at my heels--he
+would not be refused admittance." He pointed backward to where Freyer
+already appeared.
+
+The countess seemed turned to stone. "Request the steward to wait a
+moment!" she said at last, with the imperiousness of the mistress.
+
+The man stepped back, and they saw him close the door almost by force.
+
+"Do not carry matters too far," said the duke; "he seems to be very
+much excited--such people should not be irritated. Admit him before he
+forces the door and makes a scandal in the presence of the servant. He
+comes just at the right time--in this mood it will be easy for you to
+dismiss him. So end the matter! But be _calm_, have no scene--shall I
+remain at hand?"
+
+"No--I am not afraid--it would be ignoble to permit you to listen to
+him. Trust me, and leave me to my fate."
+
+At this time the voices again grew louder, then the door was violently
+thrown open. Freyer stood within the room.
+
+"What does this mean--am I assaulted in my own house?" cried the
+countess, rebelling against this act of violence.
+
+Freyer stood trembling from head to foot; they could hear his teeth
+chatter: "I merely wished to ask whether it was the Countess Wildenau's
+desire that I should be insulted by her servant."
+
+"Certainly not!" replied the countess with dignity. "If my servant
+insulted you, you shall have satisfaction--only I wish you had asked it
+in a less unseemly way."
+
+The duke quietly took his hat and kissed the countess' hand: "_Restez
+calme_!" Then he passed out, saluting Freyer with that aristocratic
+courtesy which at once irritates and disarms.
+
+Freyer stepped close to the countess, his eyes wandered restlessly, his
+whole appearance was startling: "Everything in the world has its limit,
+even patience--mine is exhausted. Tell me, are you my wife--you who
+stand here in this gay masquerade of laces and pearls--are you the
+mourning mother of a dead child? Is this my wife who decks herself for
+another, shuts herself up with another, or at least gives orders not to
+be disturbed--who has her lackeys keep her wedded husband at bay
+outside with blows--and deems it unseemly if the last remnant of manly
+dignity in his soul rebels and he demands satisfaction from his wife.
+Where is the man, I ask, who would not be frenzied? Where is the woman,
+I ask, who once loved me? Is it you, who desert, betray, make me
+contemptible to myself and others? Where--where--in the wide world is
+there a man so deceived, so trampled under foot, as I am by you? Have
+you any answer to this, woman?"
+
+The countess turned deadly pale, terror almost stifled her. For the
+first time, she beheld the Gorgon, popular fury, in his face and while
+turning to stone the thought came to her: "Would you live _with that_?"
+Horror stole over her--she did not know whether her feeling was fear or
+loathing, she only knew that she must fly from the "turbid waves" ever
+rolling nearer.
+
+There is no armor more impenetrable than the coldness of a dead
+feeling. Madeleine von Wildenau armed herself with it. "Tell me, if you
+please, how you came here, what you desire, and what put you into such
+excitement."
+
+"What--merciful Heaven, do you still ask? I came here to learn where
+you were now, to what address I could write, as you made no reply to my
+announcement of Josepha's death--and I wished to say that I could no
+longer endure this life! While talking with the servant at the door,
+old Martin passed and told me that you were here. I wanted to say one
+last word to you--I went upstairs, found the footman, and asked,
+entreated him to announce me, or at least to inquire when I could speak
+to you! You had a visitor and could not be disturbed, was his scornful
+answer. Then the consciousness of my just rights awoke within me, and I
+_commanded_ him to announce me. You refused to receive me: 'I must
+wait'--I--must wait in the ante-room while you, as I saw through the
+half-opened door, were whispering familiarly with you former suitor!
+Then I forgot everything and approached the door--the servant tried to
+prevent me, I flung him aside, and then--he dealt me a blow in the
+face--that face which you had once likened to the countenance of your
+God--he, your servant. If I had not had sufficient self-control at the
+moment to say to myself that the lackey was only your tool--I should
+have torn him to pieces with my own hands, as I should now tear you, if
+you were not a woman and sacred to me, even in your sin."
+
+"I sincerely regret what has happened and do not blame you for making
+me--at least indirectly responsible. I will dismiss the servant, of
+course--although he has the excuse that you provoked him, and that he
+did not know you."
+
+"Yes, he certainly cannot know me, when I am never permitted to
+appear."
+
+"No matter, he should not venture to treat even a _stranger_ so, and
+therefore must be punished with dismissal."
+
+"Because he should not venture to treat even a _stranger_ so?" Freyer
+laughed sadly, bitterly: "I thank you, keep your servant--I will
+renounce this satisfaction."
+
+"I do not know what else you desire."
+
+"You do not know? Oh, Heaven, had this happened earlier, what would
+your feelings have been! Do you remember your emotion in the Passion
+Play, when I received only the _semblance_ of a blow upon the cheek?
+Did it not, as you said, strike your own heart? How should you feel
+when you saw it in reality? Oh, tears should have streamed down your
+cheeks with grief for the poor deserted husband, who the only time he
+crossed your threshold, was insulted by your lackey. If you still
+retained one spark of love for me, you would feel that a single kiss
+pressed compassionately on my cheek to efface the brand would be a
+greater satisfaction than the dismissal of a servant whom you would
+have sacrificed to any stranger. But that is over, we no longer
+understand each other!"
+
+The countess struggled a moment between pity and repugnance. But at the
+thought of pressing her lips to the face her servant's hand had struck,
+loathing overwhelmed her and she turned away.
+
+"Yes, turn your back upon me--for should you look me in the eyes now,
+you would be forced to lower your own and blush with shame."
+
+"I beg you to consider that I am not accustomed to such outbreaks, and
+shall be compelled to close the conversation, if your manner does not
+assume a form more in accord with the standard of my circle."
+
+"Yes, I understand! You dread the element you have unchained? A peasant
+was very well, by way of variety, was he not? He loved differently,
+more ardently, more fiercely than your smooth city gentlemen. The
+strength and the impetuosity of the untutored man were not too rude
+when I bore you through the flaming forest, and caught the falling
+branches which threatened to crush you--then you did not fear me, you
+did not thrust me back within the limits of your social forms; on the
+contrary, you rejoiced that the world still contained power and
+might, and felt yourself a Titaness. Why have you suddenly become so
+weak-nerved, and cannot endure this might--because it has turned
+against you?"
+
+"No," said the countess, with a flash of deadly hatred in her
+fathomless grey eyes: "Not on that account--but because at that time I
+believed you to be different from what you really are. Then I believed
+I beheld a God, now I perceive that it was a--" She paused.
+
+"Go on--put no constraint on yourself--now you perceive that it was a
+_peasant_."
+
+"You just called yourself by that name."
+
+Freyer stood as though a thunder-bolt had struck him. He seemed to be
+struggling for breath. "Yes," he said at last in a low tone, "I did
+call myself by that name, but--_you_ should not have done so--_not
+you_!" He grasped the back of a chair to steady himself.
+
+"It is your own fault," said the countess, coldly. "But--will you not
+sit down? We have only a few words to say to each other. You have in
+this moment stripped off the mask of Christus and torn the last
+illusion from my heart. I can no longer see in the person who stood
+before me so disfigured by fury the image of the Redeemer."
+
+"Was not the Christ also angry, when He saw the moneychangers in the
+temple? And you, you bartered the most sacred treasures of your heart
+and mine for paltry-pelf and useless baubles--but I must not be angry!
+Scarcely a year ago, by the bedside of our sick child, you reproached
+me with being unable to cease playing the Christ--now--I have not kept
+up the part! But it does not matter, whatever I might be, I should no
+longer please you, for the _love_ which rendered the peasant a God is
+lacking. Yet one thing I must add; if now, after nine years marriage
+with you, I am still rough and a peasant, the reproach does not fall on
+me alone. You might have raised, ennobled me, my soul was in your
+keeping"--tears suddenly filled his eyes: "Woman, what have you done
+with my soul?"
+
+He sank into a chair, his strength was exhausted. Madeleine von
+Wildenau made no reply, the reproach struck home. She had never taken
+the trouble to develop his powers, to expand his intellectual
+faculties. After his poetical charm was exhausted--she flung him aside
+like a book whose contents she had read.
+
+"You knew my history. I had told you that I grew up in the meadow with
+the horses and had gained the little I knew by my own longing. I would
+have been deeply grateful, if you had released me from the ban of
+ignorance and quenched the yearning which those who are half educated
+always feel for the treasures of culture, of which they know a little,
+just enough to show them what they lack. But whenever I sought to
+discuss such subjects with you, you impatiently made me feel my
+shortcomings, and this shamed and intimidated me. So I constantly
+deteriorated in my lonely life--grew more savage, instead of more
+cultivated. Do you know what is the hardest punishment which can be
+inflicted upon criminals? Solitary confinement. It can be imposed for a
+short time only, because they go _mad_. Since the child and Josepha
+died, I have been one of those unfortunates, and you--did not even
+write me a line, had no word for me! I felt that my mind was gradually
+becoming darkened! Woman, even if you had power over life and
+death--you must not murder my soul, you have no right to that--even the
+law slays the body only, not the soul. And where it imposes the death
+penalty, it provides that the torture shall be shortened as much as
+possible. You are more cruel than the law--for you destroy your victim
+slowly--intellectually and physically."
+
+"Terrible!" murmured the countess.
+
+"Ay, it is terrible! You worldlings come and entice and sigh and kiss
+the hem of our robes, as long as the delusion of your excited
+imagination lasts, and your delusion infects us till we at last believe
+ourselves that we are gods--and then you thrust us headlong into the
+depths. Here you strew the miasma of the mania for greatness and
+vanity, yonder money and the seeds of avarice--there again you wished
+to sow your culture, tear us from our ignorance, and but half complete
+your work. Then you wonder because we become misshapen, sham,
+artificial creatures, comedians, speculators, misunderstood
+geniuses--everything in the world except true children of Ammergau!" He
+wiped his forehead, as if it were bleeding from the scratches of
+thorns. "I was a type of my people when, still a simple shepherd boy, I
+was brought from my herd to act the Christ, when in timid amazement,
+I suddenly felt stirring within me powers of which I had never
+dreamed--and I am so once more in my wretchedness, my mental conflicts,
+my marred life. I shall be so at last in my defeat or victory--as God
+is gracious to me. And since everything has deserted me--since I saw
+Josepha, the last thing left me of Ammergau, lying in her coffin--since
+then it has seemed as if from her grave, and that of all my happiness,
+my home, my betrayed, abandoned home, once more rose before me, and I
+felt a strange yearning for the soil to which I have a right, the earth
+where I belong. Ah, only when the outside world abandons us do we know
+what home is! Unfortunately I forgot it long enough, while I believed
+that you loved and needed me. Now that I know that you no longer care
+for me--the matter is very different! Like a true peasant, I believed
+that I had only duties, no rights, but in my loneliness I have pondered
+over many things, and so at last perceived that you, too, had duties
+and expected more from me than I can honorably endure! That I bore it
+_so long_ gave you a right to despise me, for the husband who sits
+angrily in a corner and sees his wife daily betray, deny, and mock
+him--deserves no better fate. So I have come to ask what you intend and
+to tell you my resolve."
+
+"What do you desire?"
+
+"That you will go with me to Ammergau, that you will cast aside the
+wealth, distinction, and splendor which I was not permitted to share
+with you, and in exchange accept with me my scanty earnings, my
+simplicity, my honest, plebeian name. For, poor and humble as I am, I
+am not so contemptible in the eyes of Him, who bestowed upon me the
+dignity and honor of personating His divine Son, that you need feel
+ashamed to be my wife in the true Christian meaning."
+
+The countess uttered a sigh of relief. "You anticipate me," she
+answered, blushing. "I see that you feel the untenableness of our
+relation. Your ultimatum is a proof that you will have strength to do
+what is inevitable, and I have delayed so long only from consideration
+for you. For--you know as well as I that I could never assent to your
+demand. It will be a sacred duty, so long as you live, to see that you
+want for nothing, but we must _part_."
+
+Freyer turned pale. "Part? We must part--for ever?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Merciful Heaven--is nothing sacred to you, not even the bond of
+marriage?"
+
+"You know that I am a Rationalist, and do not believe in dogmas; as
+such I hold that every marriage can be dissolved whenever the moral
+conditions under which it was formed prove false. Unfortunately this is
+the case with us. You did not learn to accommodate yourself to the
+circumstances, and you never will--the conflict has increased till it
+is unendurable, we cannot understand each other, so our marriage-bond
+is spiritually sundered. Why should we maintain its outward semblance?
+I have lost through you nine years of my life, sacrificed to you the
+duties imposed by my rank, by renouncing marriage with a man of equal
+station. Matters have now progressed so far that I shall be ruined if
+you do not release me! Will you nevertheless cross my path and thrust
+yourself into my sphere?"
+
+"Oh God--this too!" cried Freyer in the deepest anguish. "When have I
+thrust myself into your sphere? How, where, have I crossed your path?
+During the whole period of my marriage I have lived alone on the
+solitary mountain peak as your servant. Have I boasted of my position
+as your husband? I waited patiently until every few weeks, and later,
+every few months, you came to me. I disdained all the gifts of your
+lavish generosity, it was my pride to work for you in return for the
+morsel of food I ate. I asked nothing from your wealth, your position,
+took no heed, like others, of the splendor of your establishment. I
+wanted nothing from you save the immortal part. I was the poorest, the
+most insignificant of all your servants! My sole possession was your
+love, and that I was forced to conceal from every inquisitive eye, like
+a theft, in order to avoid the scorn of my fellow-citizens and all who
+could not understand the relation in which I stood to you. But this
+disgrace also I bore in silence, when a word would have vindicated
+me--bore it, that I might not drag you down from your brilliant
+position to mine--and you call that thrusting myself into your sphere?
+I will grant that I gradually became morose and embittered and by my
+ill-temper and reproaches deterred you more and more from coming, but I
+am only human and was forced to bear things beyond human endurance. The
+intention was good, though the execution might have been faulty. I
+lost your love--I lost my child--I lost my faithful companion, Josepha,
+yet I bore all in silence! I saw you revelling in the whirl of
+fashionable society, saw you admired by others and forget me, but I
+bore it--because I loved you a thousand times better than myself and
+did not wish to cause you pain. I often thought of secretly vanishing
+from your life, like a shadow which did not belong there. But the
+inviolability of the marriage-bond held me, and I wished to try once
+more, by the power of the vow you swore at the altar, to lead you back
+to your duty, for I cannot dissolve the sacrament which unites us, and
+which you voluntarily accepted with me. If it does not bind _you_--it
+still binds _me_! I am your husband, and shall remain so; if _you_
+break the bond you must answer for it to God; as for me, I shall keep
+it--unto death!"
+
+"That would be a needless sacrifice, which neither church nor state
+would require. I will not release myself and leave you bound. You argue
+from a mistaken belief that we were legally married--it is time to
+explain the error, both on your account and mine. You speak of a vow
+which I made you before the altar, pray remember that we have never
+stood before one."
+
+"Never?" muttered Freyer, and the vein on his forehead swelled with
+anger.
+
+"Was the breakfast-table of the Prankenberg pastor an altar?"
+
+"No, but wherever two human beings stand before a priest in the name of
+God, there is a viewless altar."
+
+"Those are subjective Catholic opinions which I do not understand--I do
+not consider myself married, and you need not do so either."
+
+"Not married? Do you know what you are saying?"
+
+"What I _must_ say, to loose _your_ bonds as well as _mine_."
+
+"Good Heavens, what will it avail if you loose my bonds and at the same
+time cut an artery so that I bleed to death? No, no, you cannot be so
+cruel. You cannot be in earnest. Omnipotent Father--you did not say it,
+take back the words. Lord, forgive her, she does not know what she is
+doing! Oh, take back those words--I will not believe that my wife, my
+dear wife, can be so wicked!"
+
+"Moderate your expressions! I guarantee my standpoint; ask whom you
+choose, you will hear that we are not married!"
+
+Freyer rushed up to her and seized her by the shoulders, shaking her as
+a tempest shakes a young birch-tree. "Not married--do you know then
+what you are!" He waited vainly for an answer, he seemed fairly crazed.
+"Shall I tell you, shall I? Then for nine years you were a----"
+
+"Do not finish!" shrieked the countess, wrenching herself with a
+desperate effort from the terrible embrace and hurling him from her.
+
+"Yes, I will finish, and you deserve that the whole world should hear
+and point the finger of scorn at you. I ought to shout to all the winds
+of Heaven that the Countess Wildenau, who is too proud to be called a
+poor man's wife, was not too proud to be his----"
+
+"Traitor, ungrateful, dishonorable traitor! Is this your return for my
+love? Take a knife and thrust it into my heart, it would be more seemly
+than to threaten me with degradation!" She drew herself up to her full
+height and raised her hand as if to take an oath: "Accursed be the hour
+I raised you from the dust to my side. Curses on the false humanity
+which strove to efface the distinctions of rank, curses on the murmur
+of 'the eternal rights of man' which removes the fetters from
+brutishness, that it may set its foot upon the neck of culture! It is
+like the child which opens the door to the whining wolf to be torn to
+pieces by the brute. Yes, take yourself out of my life, gloomy shadow
+which I conjured from those seething depths in which ruin is wrought
+for us--take yourself away, you have no longer any part in me!--Your
+right is doubly, trebly forfeited, your spell is broken, your strength
+recoils from the shield of a noble spirit, under whose protection I
+stand. Dare to lay hands on me again and--you will insult the betrothed
+bride of the Duke of Barnheim and must account to him."
+
+A cry--a heavy fall--Freyer lay senseless.
+
+The countess timidly stroked the pallid face--a strange memory stole
+over her--thus he lay prostrate on the ground when he was nailed to the
+cross. She could not help looking at him again and again: Oh, that all
+this should be a lie! Those features--that noble brow, on which the
+majesty of suffering was throned--the very image of the Saviour! Yet
+only an image, a mask! She looked away, she would gaze no longer, she
+would not again fall a victim to the old delusion--she would not let
+herself be softened by the wonderful, delusive face! But what was she
+to do? If she called her servants, she would be the talk of the whole
+city on the morrow. She must aid him, try to restore him to
+consciousness alone. Yet if she now roused him from the merciful
+stupor, if the grief and rage which had overwhelmed him should break
+forth again--would he not murder her? Was it strange that she remained
+so calm in the presence of this thought? A contemptuous indifference to
+death had taken possession of her. "If he kills me, he has a right to
+do so."
+
+She was too lofty to shun punishment which she had deserved, though it
+were her death. So she awaited her fate.
+
+She brought a little bottle filled with a pungent essence from her
+sleeping-room, and poured a few drops into his mouth. It was long ere
+he gave any sign of life--it seemed as though the soul was reluctant to
+awake, as if it would not return to consciousness. At last he opened
+his eyes;--they rested as coldly on the little trembling hand which was
+busied about him as if he had never clasped it, never kissed it, never
+pressed it to his throbbing heart. The storm had spent its fury--he was
+calm!
+
+The countess had again been mistaken in him, as usual--his conduct was
+always unlike her anticipations. He rose as quickly as his strength
+permitted, passed his hand over his disordered hair, and looked for his
+hat: "I beg your pardon for having startled you--forget this scene,
+which I might have spared you and myself, had I known what I do now. I
+deeply lament that the error which clouded your life has lasted so
+long!"
+
+"Yes," she said, and the words fell from her lips with the sharp sound
+of a diamond cutting glass: "Yes, it was not _worth_ it!"
+
+Freyer turned and gave her one last look--she felt it through her
+lowered lids. She had sunk on the sofa and fixed her eyes on the
+ground. A death-like chill ran through her limbs--she waited in her
+position as if paralysed. All was still for a moment, then she heard a
+light step cross the soft carpet of the room--and when she looked up,
+the door had closed behind Joseph Freyer.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+                         IN THE DESERTED HOUSE.
+
+
+The night had passed, day was shining through the closed curtains--but
+Countess Wildenau still sat in the same spot where Freyer had left her.
+Yes, he had gone "silently, noiselessly as a shadow"--perhaps vanished
+from her life, as he had said! She did not know what she felt, she
+would fain have relieved her stupor by tears, but she dared not
+weep--why should she? Everything was proceeding exactly as she wished.
+True, she had been harsh, too severe and harsh, and words had been
+uttered by both which neither could forgive the other! Yet it was
+to be expected that the bond between them would not be sundered without
+a storm--why was her heart so heavy, as if some misfortune had
+happened--greater than aught which could befall her. Tears! What would
+the duke think? It would be an injustice to him. And it was not true
+that she felt anything; she had no emotion whatever, neither for the
+vanished man nor for the duke! Honor--honor was the only thing which
+could still be saved! But--his sudden silence when she mentioned her
+betrothal to the duke--his going thus, without a farewell--without a
+word! He despised her--she was no longer worthy of him. That was the
+cause of his sudden calmness. There was a crushing grandeur and dignity
+in this calmness after the outbursts of fierce despair. The latter
+expressed a conflict, the former a victory--and _she_ was vanquished,
+hers was the shame, the pangs of conscience, and a strange,
+inexplicable grief.
+
+So she sat pondering all night long, always imagining that she had seen
+what she had not witnessed, the last look he had fixed upon her, and
+then--his noiseless walk through the room. It seemed as though time had
+stopped at that moment, and she was compelled, all through the night,
+to experience that _one_ instant!
+
+Some one tapped lightly on the door, and the maid entered with a
+haggard face. "I only wanted to ask," she said, in a weary, faint tone,
+"whether I might go to bed a little while. I have waited all night long
+for Your Highness to ring--"
+
+"Why, have you been waiting for me?" said the countess, rising slowly
+from the sofa. "I did not know it was so late. What time is it?"
+
+"Nearly six o'clock. But Your Highness looks so pale! Will you not
+permit me to put you to bed?"
+
+"Yes, my good Nannie, take me to my bedroom. I cannot walk, my feet are
+numb."
+
+"You should lie down at once and try to get warm. You are as cold as
+ice!" And the maid, really alarmed by the helplessness of her usually
+haughty mistress, helped the drooping figure to her room.
+
+The countess allowed herself to be undressed without resistance,
+sitting on the edge of the bed as if paralysed and waiting for the maid
+to lift her in. "I thank you," she said in a more gentle tone than the
+woman had ever heard from her lips, as the maid voluntarily rubbed the
+soles of her feet. Her head instantly sank upon the pillows, which bore
+a large embroidered monogram, surmounted by a coronet. When her feet at
+last grew warm, she seemed to fall asleep, and the maid left the room.
+But Madeleine von Wildenau was not asleep, she was merely exhausted,
+and, while her body rested, she constantly beheld _one_ image, felt
+_one_ grief.
+
+The maid had determined not to rouse her mistress, and left her
+undisturbed.
+
+At last, late in the morning, the weary woman sank into an uneasy
+slumber, whence she did not wake until the sun was high in the heavens.
+
+When she opened her eyes, she felt as if she was paralysed in every
+limb, but attributed this to the terrible impressions of the previous
+day, which would have shaken even the strongest nature.
+
+She rang the bell for the maid and rose. She walked slowly, it is true,
+and with great effort--but she _did_ walk. After she had been dressed
+and her breakfast was served she wrote:
+
+"The footman Franz is dismissed for rude treatment of the steward
+Freyer, and is not to appear in my presence again. The intendant is to
+settle the matter of wages.
+
+                                          "Countess Wildenau."
+
+Another servant now brought in a letter on a silver tray.
+
+The countess' hand trembled as she took it--the envelope was one of
+those commonly used by Freyer, but the writing was not his.
+
+"Is any one waiting for an answer?" she asked in a hollow tone.
+
+"No, Your Highness, it was brought by a Griess woodcutter."
+
+The countess opened the letter--it was from the maid-servant at the
+hunting castle, and contained only the news that the steward had left
+suddenly and the servants did not know what to do.
+
+The countess sat motionless for a moment unable to utter a word.
+Everything seemed whirling around her in a dizzy circle, she saw
+nothing save dimly, as if through a veil, the servant clearing away the
+breakfast.
+
+"Let old Martin put the horses in the carriage," she said, hoarsely, at
+last.
+
+How the minutes passed before she entered it--how it was possible for
+her to assume, in the presence of the maid, the quiet bearing of the
+mistress of the estate, who "must see that things were going on right,"
+she did not know. Now she sat with compressed lips, holding her breath
+that she might seem calm in her own eyes. What will she find on the
+height? Two graves of the past, and the empty abode of a former
+happiness. She fancied that a dark wing brushed by the carriage window,
+as if the death angel were flying by with the cup of wormwood of which
+Freyer had once spoken!
+
+She had a horror of the deserted house, the spectres of solitude and
+grief, which the vanished man might have left behind. When a house is
+dead, it must be closed by the last survivor, and this is always a
+sorrowful task. But if he himself has driven love forth, he will cross
+the deserted threshold with a lagging step, for the ghost of his own
+act will stare at him everywhere from the silent rooms.
+
+Evening had closed in, and the shadows of the mountain were already
+gathering around the house, from whose windows no loving eye greeted
+her. The carriage stopped. No one came to meet her--everything was
+lifeless and deserted. Her heart sank as she alighted.
+
+"Martin--drive to the stable and see if you can find the maid servant,"
+said the countess in a low tone, as if afraid of rousing some shape of
+horror. Martin did not utter a word, his good natured face was
+unusually grave as he drove off around the house in the direction of
+the stables.
+
+The countess stood alone before the locked door. The evening wind swept
+through the trees and shook the boughs of the pines. A few broken
+branches swayed and nodded like crippled arms; they were the ones from
+which Freyer had taken the evergreen for the child's coffin. At that
+time they were stiff with ice, now the sap, softened by the Spring
+rain, was dripping from them. Did she understand what the boughs were
+trying to tell her? Were her cheeks wet by the rain or by tears? She
+did not know. She only felt unutterably deserted. She stood on the
+moss-grown steps, shut out from her own house, and no voice answered
+her call.
+
+A cross towered above the tree-tops, it was on the steeple of the old
+chapel where they both lay--Josepha and the child. A bird of prey
+soared aloft from it and then vanished in the neighboring grove to
+shield its plumage from the rain. It had its nest there.
+
+Now all was still again--as if dead, only the cloud rising above the
+wood poured its contents on the Spring earth. At last footsteps
+approached. It was the girl bringing the keys.
+
+"I beg the countess' pardon--I did not expect Your Highness so late, I
+was in the stable unlocking the door," she said. Then she handed her
+the bunch of keys. "This one with the label is the key of the steward's
+room, he made me promise not to give it to anybody except the countess,
+if she should come again."
+
+"Bring a light--it is growing dark," replied the countess, entering the
+sitting-room.
+
+"I hope Your Highness will excuse it," said the girl. "Everything is
+still just as it was left after the funerals of Josepha and the child.
+Herr Freyer wouldn't allow me to clear anything away." She left the
+room to get a lamp. There lay the dry pine branches, there stood the
+crucifix with the candles, which had burned low in their sockets.
+_This_ for weeks had been his sole companionship. Poor, forsaken one!
+cried a voice in the countess' heart, and a shudder ran through her
+limbs as she saw on the sofa a black pall left from Josepha's funeral.
+It seemed as if it were Josepha herself lying there, as if the black
+form must rise at her entrance and approach threateningly. Horror
+seized her, and she hurried out to meet the girl who was coming with a
+light. The steward's room was one story higher, adjoining her own
+apartments. She went up the stairs with an uncertain tread, leaving the
+girl below. She needed no witness for what she expected to find there.
+
+She thrust the key into the lock with a trembling hand and opened the
+door. Sorrowful duty! Wherever she turned in this house of mourning,
+she was under the ban of her own guilt. Wherever she entered one of the
+empty rooms, it seemed as if whispering, wailing spirits separated and
+crept into the corners--to watch until the moment came when they could
+rush forth as an avenging army.
+
+At her entrance the movement was communicated through all the boards of
+the old floor until it really seemed as if viewless feet were walking
+by her side. For a moment she stood still, holding her breath--she had
+never before noticed this effect of her own steps, she had never been
+here _alone_. Her sleeping-room was beside her husband's--the door
+stood open--he must have been in there to bid farewell before going
+away. She moved hesitatingly a few steps forward and cast a timid
+glance within. The two beds, standing side by side, looked like two
+coffins. She felt as if she beheld her own corpse lying there--the
+corpse of the former Countess Wildenau, Freyer's wife. The woman
+standing here now was a different person--and her murderess! Yet she
+grieved for her and still felt her griefs and her death-struggle. She
+hastily closed and bolted the door--as if the dead woman within might
+come out and call her to an account.
+
+Then she turned her dragging steps toward Freyer's writing-desk, for
+that is always the tabernacle where a lonely soul conceals its secrets.
+And--there lay a large envelope bearing the address: "To the Countess
+Wildenau. To be opened by her own hands!"
+
+She placed the lamp on the table, and sat down to read. She no longer
+dreaded the ghosts of her own acts--_he_ was with her and though he had
+raged yesterday in the madness of his anguish--he would protect her!
+
+She opened the envelope. Two papers fell into her hands. Her marriage
+certificate and a paper in Freyer's writing. The lamp burned unsteadily
+and smoked, or were her eyes dim? Now she no longer saw the mistakes in
+writing, now she saw between the clumsy characters a noble, grieving
+soul which had gazed at her yesterday from a pair of dark eyes--for the
+last time! Clasping her hands over the sheet, she leaned her head upon
+them like a penitent Magdalene upon the gospel. It was to her also a
+gospel--of pain and love. It ran as follows:
+
+"Countess:
+
+"I bid you an affectionate farewell, and enclose the marriage
+certificate, that you may have no fear of my causing you any annoyance
+by it--
+
+"Everything else which I owe to your kindness I restore, as I can make
+no farther use of it. I am sincerely sorry that you were disappointed
+in me--I told you that I was not He whom I personated, but a poor,
+plain man, but you would not believe it, and made the experiment with
+me. It was a great misfortune for both. For you can never be happy, on
+account of the sin you wish to commit against me. I will pray God to
+release you from me--in a way which will spare you from taking this
+heavy sin upon you--but I have still one act of penance to perform
+toward my home, to which I have been faithless, that it may still
+forgive me in this life. I hear that the Passion Play cannot be
+performed in Ammergau next summer, because there is no Christus--that
+would be terrible for our poor parish! I will try whether I can help
+them out of the difficulty if they will receive me and not repulse me
+as befits the renegade." (Here the writing was blurred by tears) "Only
+wait, for the welfare of your own soul, until the performances are
+over, and I have done my duty to the community. Then God will be
+merciful and open a way for us all.
+
+                              "Your grateful
+
+                                              "Joseph Freyer.
+
+"Postscript:--If it is possible, forgive me for all I did to offend you
+yesterday."
+
+There, in brief, untutored words was depicted the martyrdom of a soul,
+which had passed through the school of suffering to the utmost
+perfection! The most eloquent, polished description of his feelings
+would have had less power to touch the countess' heart than these
+simple, trite expressions--she herself could not have explained why it
+was the helplessness of the uncultured man who had trusted to her
+generosity, which spoke from these lines with an unconscious reproach,
+which pierced deeper than any complaint. And she had no answer to this
+reproach, save the tears which now flowed constantly from her eyes.
+
+Laying her head upon the page, she wept--at last wept.
+
+She remained long in this attitude. A sorrowful peace surrounded her,
+nothing stirred within or without, the spirits seemed reconciled by
+what they now beheld. The dead Countess Wildenau in the next room had
+risen noiselessly, she was no longer there! She was flying far--far
+beyond the mountains--seeking--seeking the lost husband, the poor,
+innocent husband, who had resigned for her sake all that constitutes
+human happiness and human dignity, anxious for one thing only, her
+deliverance from what, in his childlike view of religion, he could not
+fail to consider a heavy, unforgivable sin! She was flying through a
+broad portal in the air--it was the rainbow formed of the tears of love
+shed by sundered human hearts for thousands of years. Even so looked
+the rainbow, which had arched above her head when she stood on the peak
+with the royal son of the mountains, high above the embers of the
+forest, through which he had borne her, ruling the flames. They had
+spared him--but _she_ had had no pity--they had crouched at his feet
+like fiery lions before their tamer, but the woman for whom he had
+fought trampled on him. Yet above them arched the rainbow, the symbol
+of peace and reconciliation, and under _this_ she had made the oath
+which she now intended to break. The dead Countess Wildenau, however,
+saw the gleaming bow again, and was soaring through it to her husband,
+for she had no further knowledge of earthly things, she knew only the
+old, long denied, all-conquering love!
+
+Suddenly the clock on the writing-table began to strike, the penitent
+dreamer started. It was striking nine. The clock was still going--he
+had wound it. It was a gift from her. He had left all her gifts, he
+wrote. That would be terrible. Surely he had not gone without any
+means? The key of the writing-table was in the lock. She opened the
+drawer. There lay all his papers, books, the rest of the housekeeping
+money, and accounts, all in the most conscientious order, and beside
+them--oh, that she must see it--a little purse containing his savings
+and a savings-bank book, which she herself had once jestingly pressed
+upon him. The little book was wrapped in paper, on which was written:
+"To keep the graves of my dear ones in Countess Wildenau's chapel."
+
+"Oh, you great, noble heart, which I never understood!" sobbed the
+guilty woman, restoring the little volume to its place.
+
+But she could not rest, she must search on and on, she must know
+whether he had left her as a beggar? Against the wall beside the
+writing-table, stood a costly old armoire, richly ornamented, which had
+seen many generations of the Prankenbergs come and pass away. Madeleine
+von Wildenau turned the lock with an effort--there hung all his
+clothing, just as he had received it from her or purchased it with his
+own wages; nothing was missing save the poor little coat, hat and cane,
+with which he had left Ammergau with the owner of a fortune numbering
+millions. He had wandered forth again as poor as he had come.
+
+Sinking on her knees, she buried her face, overwhelmed with grief and
+shame, in her clasped hands.
+
+"Freyer, Freyer, I did not want this--not this!" Now the long repressed
+grief which she had inflicted upon herself burst forth unrestrained.
+Here she could shriek it out; here no one heard her. "Oh, that you
+should leave me thus--unreconciled, without a farewell, with an aching
+heart--not even protected from want! And I let you go without one kind
+word--I did not even return your last glance. Was it possible that I
+could do it?"
+
+The old Prankenberg lion on the coat of arms on the armoire had
+doubtless seen many mourners scan the garments whose owners rested
+under the sod--but no one of all the women of that failing race had
+wept so bitterly over the contents of the armoire--as this last of her
+name.
+
+The candle had burned low in the socket, a star glinting through the
+torn clouds shone through the uncurtained windows. Beyond the forest
+the first flashes of spring lightning darted to and fro.
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau rose and stood for a while in the middle of the
+room, pondering. What did she want here? She had nothing more to find
+in the empty house. The dead Countess Wildenau was once more sleeping
+in the adjoining room, and the living one no longer belonged to
+herself. Was it, could it be true, that she had thrust out the peaceful
+inmate of this house? Thrust him forever from the modest home she had
+established for him? "Husband, father of my child, where are you?" No
+answer! He was no longer hers! He had risen from the humiliation she
+inflicted upon him, he had stripped off the robe of servitude, and gone
+forth, scorning her and all else--a poor but free man!
+
+She must return to the slavery of her own guilt and of prosaic
+existence, while he went farther and farther away, like a vanishing
+star. She felt that her strength was failing, she must go, or she would
+sink dying in this place of woe--alone without aid or care.
+
+She folded the marriage certificate and Freyer's letter together, and
+without another glance around the room--the ghost of her awakened
+conscience was stirring again, she took the dying candle and hurried
+down. The steps again creaked behind her, as though some one was
+following her downstairs. She had ordered the carriage at nine, it must
+have been waiting a long time. Her foot faltered at the door of the
+sitting-room, but she passed on--it was impossible for her to enter it
+again--she called--but the maid-servant had gone to her work in the
+stables--nothing save her own trembling voice echoed back through the
+passages. She went out. The carriage was standing at the side of the
+house. The rain had ceased, the forest was slumbering and all the
+creatures which animated it by day with it.
+
+The countess locked the door. "Now interweave your boughs and shut it
+in!" she said to the briers and pines which stood closely around it.
+"Spread out your branches and compass it with an impenetrable hedge
+that no one may find it. The Sleeping Beauty who slumbers here--nothing
+must ever rouse!"
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXX.
+
+                           THE "WIESHERRLE."
+
+
+High above the rushing Wildbach, where the stream bursts through the
+crumbling rocks and in its fierce rush sends heavy stones grinding over
+one another--a man lay on the damp cliff which trembled under the shock
+of the falling masses of water. The rough precipices, dripping with
+spray, pressed close about him, shutting him into the cool, moss-grown
+ravine, through which no patch of blue sky was visible, no sunbeam
+stole.
+
+Here the wanderer, deceived in everything, lay resting on his way home.
+With his head propped on his hand, he gazed steadfastly down into the
+swirl of the foaming, misty, ceaseless rush of the falling water! On
+the rock before him lay a small memorandum book, in which he was slowly
+writing sorrowful words, just as they welled from his soul--slowly and
+sluggishly, as the resin oozes from the gashed trees. Wherever a human
+heart receives a deep, fatal wound, the poetry latent in the blood of
+the people streams from the hurt. All our sorrowful old folk-songs are
+such drops of the heart's blood of the people. The son of a race of
+mountaineers who sung their griefs and joys was composing his own
+mournful wayfaring ballad for not one of those which he knew and
+cherished in his memory expressed the unutterable grief he experienced.
+He did not know how he wrote it--he was ignorant of rhyme and metre.
+When he finished, that is, when he had said all he felt, it seemed as
+though the song had flown to him, as the seed of some plant is blown
+upon a barren cliff, takes root, and grows there.
+
+But now, after he had created the form of the verses, he first realized
+the full extent of his misery!
+
+Hiding the little book in his pocket, he rose to follow the toilsome
+path he was seeking high among the mountains where there were only a
+few scattered homesteads, and he met no human being.
+
+While Countess Wildenau in the deserted hunting-castle was weeping over
+the cast-off garments with which he had flung aside the form of a
+servant, the free man was striding over the heights, fanned by the
+night-breeze, lashed by the rain in his thin coat--free--but also free
+to be exposed to grief, to the elements--to hunger! Free--but so free
+that he had not even a roof beneath which to shelter his head within
+four protecting walls.
+
+
+           "Both love and faith have fled for aye,
+            Like chaff by wild winds swept away--
+            Naught, naught is left me here below
+            Save keen remorse and endless woe.
+
+           "No home have I on the wide earth--
+            A ragged beggar fare I forth,
+            In midnight gloom, by tempests met,
+            Broken my staff, my star has set.
+
+           "With raiment tattered by the sleet,
+            My brain scorched by the sun's fierce heat,
+            My heart torn by a human hand,
+            A shadow--I glide through the land.
+
+           "Homeward I turn, white is my hair,
+            Of love and faith my life is bare--
+            Whoe'er beholds me makes the sign
+            Of the cross--God save a fate like mine."
+
+
+So the melancholy melody echoed through the darkness of the night, from
+peak to peak along the road from the Griess to Ammergau. And wherever
+it sounded, the birds flew startled from the trees deeper into the
+forest, the deer fled into the thickets and listened, the child in the
+cradle started and wept in its sleep. The dogs in the lonely courtyards
+barked loudly.
+
+"That was no human voice, it was a shot deer or an owl"--the peasants
+said to their trembling wives, listening for a time to the ghostly,
+wailing notes dying faintly away till all was still once more--and the
+spectre had passed. But when morning dawned and the time came when the
+matin bells drove all evil spirits away the song, too, ceased, and only
+its prophecy came true. Whoever recognized in the emaciated man, with
+hollow eyes and cheeks, the Christus-Freyer of Ammergau, doubtless made
+the sign of the cross in terror, exclaiming: "Heaven preserve us!" But
+the lighter it grew, the farther he plunged into the forest. He was
+ashamed to be seen! His gait grew more and more feeble, his garments
+more shabby by his long walk in the rain and wind.
+
+He still had a few pennies in his pocket--the exact sum he possessed
+when he left Ammergau. He was keeping them for a night's lodgings,
+which he must take once during the twenty-four hours. He could have
+reached Ammergau easily by noon--but he did not want to enter it in
+broad day as a ragged beggar. So he rested by day and walked at night.
+
+At a venerable old inn, the "Shield," on the road from Steingaden to
+Ammergau, he asked one of the servants if he might lie a few hours on
+the straw to rest. The latter hesitated before granting permission--the
+man looked so doubtful. At last he said: "Well, I won't refuse you, but
+see that you carry nothing off when you go away from here."
+
+Freyer made no reply. The wrath which had made him hurl the lackey from
+the countess' door, no longer surged within him--now it was his home
+which was punishing him, speaking to him in her rude accents--let her
+say what she would, he accepted it as a son receives a reproof from a
+mother. He hung his drenched coat to dry in the sun, which now shone
+warmly again, then slipped into the barn and lay down on the hay. A
+refreshing slumber embraced him, poverty and humility took the
+sorrowing soul into their maternal arms, as a poor man picks up the
+withered blossom the rich one has carelessly flung aside, and carrying
+it home makes it bloom again.
+
+Rest, weary soul! You no longer need to stretch and distort the noble
+proportions of your existence to fit them to relations to which they
+were not born. You need be nothing more than you are, a child of the
+people, suckled by the sacred breast of nature and can always return
+there without being ashamed of it. Poverty and lowliness extend their
+protecting mantle over you and hide you from the looks of scorn and
+contempt which rend your heart.
+
+A peaceful expression rested upon the sleeper's face, but his breathing
+was deep and labored as if some powerful feeling was stirring his soul
+under the quiet repose of slumber and from beneath his closed lids
+stole a tear.
+
+During several hours the exhausted body lay between sleeping and
+waking, unconscious grief and comfort.
+
+Opposite, "on the Wies" fifteen minutes walk from the "Shield," a bell
+rang in the church where the pilgrims went. There an ancient Christ
+"our Lord of the Wies," called simply "the Wiesherrle," carved from
+mouldering, painted wood, was hung from the cross by chains which
+rattled when the image was laughed at incredulously, and with real
+hair, which constantly grew again when an impious hand cut it. At times
+of special visitation it could sweat blood, and hundreds journeyed to
+the "Wies," trustfully seeking the wonder-working "Wiesherrle." It was
+a terrible image of suffering, and the first sight of the scourged
+body and visage contorted by pain caused an involuntary thrill of
+horror--increased by the black beard and long hair, such as often grows
+in the graves of the dead. The face stared fixedly at the beholder with
+its glassy eyes, as if to say: "Do you believe in me?" The emaciated
+body was so lifelike, that it might have been an embalmed corpse placed
+erect. But the horror vanished when one gazed for a while, for an
+expression of patience rested on the uncanny face, the lashes of the
+fixed eyes began to quiver, the image became instinct with life, the
+chains swayed slightly, and the drops of blood again grew liquid. Why
+should they not? The heart, which loves forever can also, to the eye of
+faith, bleed forever. Hundreds of wax limbs and silver hearts,
+consecrated bones and other anomalies bore witness to past calamities
+where the Wiesherrle had lent its aid. But he could also be angry, as
+the rattling of his chains showed, and this gave him a somewhat
+spectral, demoniac aspect.
+
+Under the protection of this strange image of Christ, whose power
+extended over the whole mountain plateau, the living image of Christ
+lay unconscious. Then the vesper-bells, ringing from the church, roused
+him. He hastily started up and, in doing so, struck against the block
+where the wood was split. A chain flung upon it fell. Freyer raised and
+held it a moment before replacing it on the block, thinking of the
+scourging in the Passion Play.
+
+"Heavens, the Wiesherrle!" shrieked a terrified voice, and the door
+leading into the barn, which had been softly opened, was hurriedly
+shut.
+
+"Father, father, come quick--the Wiesherrle is in the barn!"--screamed
+some one in deadly fright.
+
+"Silly girl," Freyer heard a man say. "Are you crazy? What are you
+talking about?"
+
+"Really, Father, on my soul; just go there. The Wiesherrle is standing
+in the middle of the hay. I saw him. By our Lord and the Holy Cross.
+Amen!"
+
+Freyer heard the girl sink heavily on the bench by the stove. The
+father answered angrily: "Silly thing, silly thing!" and went to the
+door in his hob-nailed shoes. "Is any one in here?" he asked. But as
+Freyer approached, the peasant himself almost started back in terror:
+"Good Lord, who are you? Why do you startle folks so? Can't you speak?"
+
+"I asked the man if I might rest there, and then I fell asleep."
+
+"I don't see why you should be so lazy, turning night into day.
+Tramp on, and sleep off your drunkenness somewhere else! I want no
+miracles--and no Wiesherrle in my house."
+
+"I'll pay for everything," said Freyer humbly, almost beseechingly,
+holding out his little stock of ready money, for he was overpowered
+with hunger and thirst.
+
+"What do I care for your pennies!" growled the tavern keeper angrily,
+closing the door.
+
+There stood the hapless man, in whom the girl's soul had recognized
+with awe the martyred Christ, but whom the rude peasant turned from his
+door as a vagrant--hungry and thirsty, worn almost unto death, and with
+a walk of five hours before him. He took his hat and his staff, hung
+his dry coat over his shoulder, and left the barn.
+
+As he went out he heard the last notes of the vesper-bell, and felt a
+yearning to go to Him for whom he had been mistaken, it seemed as if He
+were calling in the echoing bells: "Come to me, I have comfort for
+you." He struck into the forest path that led to the Wiesherrle. The
+white walls of the church soon appeared and he stepped within, where
+the showy, antiquated style of the last century mingled with the crude
+notions of the mountaineers for and by whom it was built.
+
+Skulls, skeletons of saints, chubby-cheeked cupids, cruel martyrdoms,
+and Arcadian shepherdesses, nude penitents and fiends dragging them
+down into the depths, lambs of heaven and dogs of hell were all in
+motley confusion! Above the chaotic medley arched on fantastic columns
+the huge dome with a gate of heaven painted in perspective, which,
+according to the beholder's standpoint rose or sank, was foreshortened
+or the opposite.
+
+A wreath of lucernes beautifully ornamented, through which the blue sky
+peeped and swallows building their nests flew in and out, formed as it
+were the jewel in the architecture of the cornice. Even the eye of God
+was not lacking, a tarnished bit of mirror inserted above the pulpit in
+the centre of golden rays, and intended to flash when the sun shone on
+it.
+
+And there in a glass shrine directly beneath all the tinsel rubbish, on
+the gilded carving of the high altar, the poor, plain little Wiesherrle
+hung in chains. The two, the wooden image of God, and the one of flesh
+and blood, confronted each other--the Christ of the Ammergau Play
+greeted the Christ of the Wies. It is true, they did resemble each
+other, like suffering and pain. Freyer knelt long before the Wiesherrle
+and what they confided to each other was heard only by the God in whose
+service and by whose power they wrought miracles--each in his own way.
+
+"You are happy," said the Wiesherrle. "Happier than I! Human hands
+created and faith animated me; where that is lacking, I am a mere
+dead wooden puppet, only fit to be flung into the fire. But you were
+created by God, you live and breathe, can move and act--and highest of
+all--_suffer_ like Him whom we represent. I envy you!"
+
+"Yes!" cried Freyer; "You are right; _to suffer_ like Christ is highest
+of all! My God, I thank Thee that I suffer."
+
+This was the comfort the Wiesherrle had for his sorely tried brother.
+It was a simple thought, but it gave him strength to bear everything.
+It is always believed that a great grief requires a great consolation.
+This is not true, the poorer the man is, the more value the smallest
+gift has for him, and the more wretched he is--the smallest comfort! To
+the husbandman whose crops have been destroyed by hail, it would be no
+comfort to receive the gift of a blossom, which would bring rapture to
+the sultry attic chamber of a sick man.
+
+In a great misfortune we often ask: "What gave the person strength to
+endure it?" It was nothing save these trivial comforts which only the
+unhappy know. The soul lamenting the loss of a loved one while many
+others are left is not comforted when the lifeless figure of a martyr
+preaches patience--but to the desolate one, who no longer has aught
+which speaks to him, the lifeless wooden image becomes a friend and its
+mute language a consolation.
+
+Beside the altar stood an alms-box. The gifts for which it was intended
+were meant for repairs on the church and the preservation of the
+Wiesherrle, who sometimes needed a new cloth about his loins. Freyer
+flung into it the few coins which the innkeeper had disdained, because
+he looked like the Wiesherrle, now they should go to him. He felt as if
+he should need no more money all his life, as if the comfort he had
+here received raised him far above earthly need and care.
+
+Twilight was gathering, the sun had sunk behind the blue peaks of the
+Pfrontner mountains, and now the hour struck--the sacred hour of the
+return home.
+
+Already he felt with joy the throbbing of the pulses of his home, a
+mysterious connection between this place and distant Ammergau. And he
+was right: Childish as was the representation of the divine ideal, it
+was, nevertheless, the rippling of one of those hidden springs of faith
+which blend in the Passion Play, forming the great stream of belief
+which is to supply a thirsting world. As on a barren height, amid
+tangled thickets, we often greet with delight the low murmur of a
+hidden brook which in the valley below becomes the mighty artery of our
+native soil, so the returning wanderer hurried on longingly toward the
+mysterious spring which led him to the mother's heart. But his knees
+trembled, human nature asserted its rights. He must eat or he would
+fall fainting. But where could food be had? The last pennies were in
+the alms-box--he could not have taken them out again, even had he
+wished it. There was no way save to ask some one--for bread. He dragged
+himself wearily to the parsonage--he would try there, the priest would
+be less startled by the "Wiesherrle" than the peasant. Thrice he
+attempted to pull the bell, but very gently. He fancied the whole world
+could hear that he was ringing--to beg. Yet, if it did not sound, no
+one would open the door. At last, with as much effort as though he was
+pulling the bell-rope in the church steeple, he rang. The bell echoed
+shrilly. The pastor's old cook appeared.
+
+Freyer raised his hat. "Might I ask you for a piece of bread?" he
+murmured softly, and the tall figure seemed to droop lower with every
+word.
+
+The cook, who was never allowed to turn a beggar from the door, eyed
+him a moment with mingled pity and anxiety. "Directly," she answered,
+and went in search of something, but prudently closed the door, leaving
+him outside as we do with suspicious individuals. Freyer waited, hat in
+hand. The evening breeze swept chill across the lofty mountain plateau
+and blew his hair around his uncovered head. At last the cook came,
+bringing him some soup and a bit of bread. Freyer thanked her, and ate
+it! When he had finished he gave the little dish back to the woman--but
+his hand trembled so that he almost let it fall and his brow was damp.
+Then he thanked her again, but without raising his eyes, and quietly
+pursued his way.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+                            THE RETURN HOME.
+
+
+The "Wies" towered like an island from amid a grey sea of clouds. All
+the mountains of Trauchgau and Pfront, Allgau and Tyrol, which surround
+it like distant shores and cliffs, had vanished in the mist. The
+windows in the comfortable tavern were lighted and a fire was blazing
+on the hearth. One little lamp after another shone from the quiet
+farm-houses.
+
+The lonely church now lay silent! Silent, too, was the Wiesherrle in
+his glass shrine, while the wayfarer pressed steadily down through the
+mist toward home and the cross! Freyer moved on more and more swiftly
+across the hill-sides and through the woods till he reached the path
+leading down the mountain to the "Halb-Ammer," which flowed at its
+base. Gradually he emerged from the strata of mist, and now a faint ray
+of moonlight fell upon his path.
+
+Hour after hour he pursued his way. One after another the lights in the
+houses were extinguished. The world sank into slumber, and the villages
+were wrapped in silence.
+
+In the churches only the ever-burning lamps still blazed, and he made
+them his resting-places.
+
+The clock in the church steeple of Altenau struck twelve as he passed
+through. A belated tippler approached him with the reeling step of a
+drunkard, but started back when he saw his face, staring after him with
+dull bewildered eyes as if he beheld some spectre of the night.
+
+"An image of horror I glide through the land!" Freyer murmured softly.
+To-night he did not sing his song. This evening his pain was soothed,
+his soul was preparing for another paean--on the cross!
+
+Now the little church of Kappel appeared before him on its green hill,
+like a pious sign-post pointing the way to Ammergau. But patches of
+snow still lingered amid the pale green of the Spring foliage, for it
+is late ere the Winter is conquered by the milder season and the keen
+wind swept down the broad highway, making the wayfarer's teeth chatter
+with cold. He felt that his vital warmth was nearly exhausted, he had
+walked two days with no hot food. For the soup at the parsonage that
+day was merely lukewarm--he stood still a moment, surely he had dreamed
+that! He could not have begged for bread? Yes, it was even so. A tremor
+shook his limbs: Have you fallen so low? He tried to button his thin
+coat--his fingers were stiff with cold. Ten years ago when he left
+Ammergau, it was midsummer--now winter still reigned on the heights.
+"Only let me not perish on the highway," he prayed, "only let me reach
+home."
+
+It was now bright cold moonlight, all the outlines of the mountains
+stood forth distinctly, the familiar contours of the Ammergau peaks
+became more and more visible.
+
+Now he stood on the Ammer bridge where what might be termed the suburb
+of Ammergau, the hamlet of Lower Ammergau, begins. The moon-lit river
+led the eye in a straight line to the centre of the Ammer valley--there
+lay the sacred mountains of his home--the vast side scenes of the most
+gigantic stage in the world, the Kofel with its cross, and the other
+peaks. Opposite on the left the quiet chapel of St. Gregory amid
+boundless meadows, beside the fall of the Leine, the Ammer's wilder
+sister. There he had watched his horses when a boy, down near the
+chapel where the blue gentians had garlanded his head when he flung
+himself on the grass, intoxicated by his own exuberant youth and
+abundance of life.
+
+He extended his arms as if he would fain embrace the whole infinite
+scene: "Home, home, your lost son is returning--receive him. Do not
+fall, ye mountains, and bury the beloved valley ere I reach it!"
+
+One last effort, one short hour's walk. Hold out, wearied one, this one
+hour more!
+
+The highway from Lower Ammergau stretched endlessly toward the goal. On
+the right was the forest, on the left the fields where grew thousands
+of meadow blossoms, the Eden of his childhood where a blue lake once
+lured him, so blue that he imagined it was reflecting a patch of the
+sky, but when he reached it, instead of water, he beheld a field of
+forget-me-nots!
+
+Oh, memories of childhood--reconciling angel of the tortured soul!
+There stands the cross on the boundary with the thorny bush whence
+Christ's crown was cut.
+
+"How will you fare, will the community receive you, admit you to the
+blissful union of home powers, if you sacrifice your heart's blood for
+it?" Freyer asked himself, and it seemed as if some cloud, some dark
+foreboding came between him and his home. "Well for him who no longer
+expects his reward from this world. What are men? They are all
+variable, variable and weak! Thou alone art the same. Thou who dost
+create the miracle from our midst--and thou, sacred soil of our
+ancestors, ye mountains from whose peaks blows the strengthening breath
+which animates our sublime work--it is not _human beings_, but ye who
+are home!"
+
+Now the goal was gained--he was there! Before him in the moonlight lay
+the Passion Theatre--the consecrated space where once for hours he was
+permitted to feel himself a God.
+
+The poor, cast off man, deceived in all things, flung himself down,
+kissed the earth, and laid a handful of it on his head, as though it
+were the hand of a mother--while from his soul gushed like a song sung
+by his own weeping guardian angel,
+
+
+                 "Thy soil I kiss, beloved home,
+                    Which erst my fathers' feet have trod,
+                  Where the good seed devoutly sown
+                    Sprang forth at the command of God!
+                  Thy lap fain would I rest upon,
+                    Though faithlessly from thee I fled
+                  Still thy chains draw thy wand'ring son
+                    Oh! mother, back where'er his feet may tread.
+                  And though no ray of light, no star,
+                    Illumes the future--and its gloom,
+                  Thou wilt not grudge, after life's war,
+                    A clod of earth upon my tomb."
+
+
+He rested his head thus a long time on the cold earth, but he no longer
+felt it. It seemed as though the soul had consumed the last power of
+the exhausted body--and bursting its fetters blazed forth like an
+aureole. "Hosanna, hosanna!" rang through the air, and the earth
+trembled under the tramp of thousands. On they came in a long
+procession bearing palm-branches, the shades of the fathers--the old
+actors in the Passion Play from its commencement, and all who had lived
+and died for the cross since the time of Christ!
+
+"Hosanna, hosanna to him who died on the cross. Many are called, but
+few chosen. But you belong to us!" sang the chorus of martyrs till the
+notes rang through earth and Heaven. "Hosanna, hosanna to him who
+suffers and bleeds for the sins of the world."
+
+Freyer raised his head. The moon had gone behind a cloud, and white
+mists were gathering over the fields.
+
+He rose, shivering with cold. His thin coat was damp with the night
+frost which had melted on his uncovered breast, and his feet were sore,
+for his shoes were worn out by the long walk.
+
+He still fancied he could hear, far away in the infinite distance, the
+chorus of the Hosanna to the Crucified! And raising his arms to heaven,
+he cried: "Oh, my Redeemer and Master, so long as Thou dost need me to
+show the world Thy face--let me live--then take pity on me and let me
+die on the cross! Die for the sins of one, as Thou didst die for the
+sins of the world." He opened the door leading to the stage. There in
+the dim moonlight lay the old cross. Sobbing aloud, he embraced it,
+pressing to his breast the hard wood which had supported him and now,
+as of yore, was surrounded by the mysterious powers, which so strongly
+attracted him.
+
+"Oh, had I been but faithful to thee," he lamented, "all the blessings
+of this world--even were it the greatest happiness, would not outweigh
+thee. Now I am thine--praise thyself with me and bear me upward, high
+above all earthly woe."
+
+The clock in the church steeple struck three. He must still live and
+suffer, for he knew that no one could play the Christus as he did,
+because no one bore the Redeemer's image in his heart like him.
+But--could he go farther? His strength had failed, he felt it with
+burdened breast. He took up his hat and staff, and tottered out. Where
+should he go? To Ludwig Gross, the only person to whom he was not
+ashamed to show himself in his wretchedness.
+
+Now for the first time he realized that he could scarcely move farther.
+Yet it must be done, he could not lie there.
+
+Step by step he dragged himself in his torn shoes along the rough
+village street. When half way down he heard music and singing
+alternating with cries and laughter, echoing from the tavern. It was a
+wedding, and they were preparing to escort the bride and groom home--he
+learned this from the talk of some of the lads who came out. Was he
+really in Ammergau? His soul was yet thrilling with emotion at the
+sight of the home for which he had so long yearned and now--this
+contrast! Yet it was natural, they could not all devote themselves to
+their task with the same fervor. Yet it doubly wounded the man who bore
+in his heart such a solemn earnestness of conviction. He glided
+noiselessly along in the shadow of the houses, that no one should see
+him.
+
+Did not the carousers notice that their Christ was passing in beggar's
+garb? Did they not feel the gaze bent on them from the shadow through
+the lighted window, silently asking: "Are these the descendants of
+those ancestors whose glorified spirits had just greeted the returning
+son of Ammergau?"
+
+The unhappy wanderer's step passed by unheard, and now Freyer turned
+into the side street, where his friend's house stood--the luckless
+house where his doom began.
+
+It was not quite half-past three. The confused noise did not reach the
+quiet street. The house, shaded by its broad, projecting roof, lay as
+if wrapped in slumber. Except during the passion Ludwig always slept in
+the room on the ground floor, formerly occupied by the countess. Freyer
+tapped lightly on the shutter, but his heart was beating so violently
+that he could scarcely hear whether any one was moving within.
+
+If his friend should not be there, had gone away on a journey, or
+moved--what should he do then? He had had no communication with him,
+and only heard once through Josepha that old Andreas Gross was dead. He
+knocked again. Ludwig was the only person whom he could trust--if he
+had lost him, all would be over.
+
+But no--there was a movement within--the well-known voice asked
+sleepily: "Who is there?"
+
+"Ludwig, open the window--it is I--Freyer!" he called under his breath.
+
+The shutters were flung back. "Freyer--is it possible? Wait, Joseph,
+wait, I'll admit you." He heard his friend hurriedly dressing--two
+minutes after the door opened. Not a word was exchanged between the
+two men. Ludwig grasped Freyer's hand and drew him into the house.
+"Freyer--you--am I dreaming? You here--what brings you? I'll have a
+light directly." His hand trembled with excitement as he lighted a
+candle. Freyer stood timidly at the door. The room grew bright, the
+rays streamed full on Freyer. Ludwig started back in horror. "Merciful
+Heaven, how you look!"
+
+The friends long stood face to face, unable to utter a word, Freyer
+still holding his hat in his hand. Ludwig's keen eye glided over the
+emaciated form, the shabby coat, the torn shoes. "Freyer, Freyer, what
+has befallen you? My poor friend, do you return to me _thus_?" With
+unutterable grief he clasped the unfortunate man in his arms.
+
+Freyer could scarcely speak, his tongue refused to obey his will. "If I
+could rest a little while," he faltered.
+
+"Yes, come, come and lie down on my bed--I have slept as much as I
+wish. I shall not lie down again," replied Ludwig, trembling with
+mingled pity and alarm, as he drew off his friend's miserable rags as
+quickly as possible. Then leading him to his own bed, he gently pressed
+him down upon it. He would not weary the exhausted man with questions,
+he saw that Freyer was no longer master of himself. His condition told
+his friend enough.
+
+"You--are--kind!" stammered Freyer. "Oh, I have learned something in
+the outside world."
+
+"What--what have you learned?" asked Ludwig.
+
+A strange smile flitted over Freyer's face: "_To beg._"
+
+His friend shuddered. "Don't talk any more now--you need rest!" he said
+in a low, soothing tone, wrapping the chilled body in warm coverlets.
+But a flash of noble indignation sparkled in his eyes, and his pale
+lips could not restrain the words: "I will ask no questions--but
+whoever sent you home to us must answer for it to God."
+
+The other did not hear, or if he did his thoughts were too confused to
+understand.
+
+"Freyer! Only tell me what I can do to strengthen you. I'll make a
+fire, and give you anything to eat that you would like."
+
+"Whatever--you--have!" Freyer gasped with much difficulty.
+
+"May God help us--he is starving." Ludwig could scarcely control his
+tears. "Keep quiet--I'll come presently and bring you something!" he
+said, hurrying out to get all the modest larder contained. He would not
+wake his sisters--this was no theme for feminine gossip. He soon
+prepared with his own hands a simple bread porridge into which he broke
+a couple of eggs, he had nothing else--but at least it was warm food.
+When he took it to his friend Freyer had grown so weak that he could
+scarcely hold the spoon, but the nourishment evidently did him good.
+
+"Now sleep!" said Ludwig. "Day is dawning. I'll go down to the village
+and see if I can get you some boots and another coat."
+
+A mute look of gratitude from Freyer rewarded the faithful care, then
+his eyes closed, and his friend gazed at him with deep melancholy.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+                            TO THE VILLAGE.
+
+
+The burgomaster's house, with its elaborate fresco, "Christ before
+Pilate," still stood without any signs of life in the grey dawn. The
+burgomaster was asleep. He had been ill very frequently. It seemed
+as if the attack brought on by Freyer's flight had given him his
+death-blow, he had never rallied from it. And as his body could not
+recuperate, his mind could never regain its tone.
+
+When Ludwig Gross' violent ring disturbed the morning silence of the
+house the burgomaster's wife opened the door with a face by no means
+expressive of pleasure. "My husband is still asleep!" she said to the
+drawing-master.
+
+"Yes, I cannot help it, you must wake him. I've important business!"
+
+The anxious wife still demurred, but the burgomaster appeared at the
+top of the staircase. "What is it? I am always to be seen if there is
+anything urgent. Good morning; go into the sitting-room. I'll come
+directly."
+
+Ludwig Gross entered the low-ceiled but cheerful apartment, where
+flowers bloomed in every window. Against the wall was the ancient glass
+cupboard, the show piece of furniture in every well-to-do Ammergau
+household, where were treasured the wife's bridal wreath and the
+husband's goblet, the wedding gifts--cups with gilt inscriptions: "In
+perpetual remembrance," which belonged to the wife and prizes won in
+shooting matches, or gifts from visitors to the Passion Play, the
+property of the husband. In the ivy-grown niche in the corner of the
+room was an ancient crucifix--below it a wooden bench with a table, on
+which lay writing materials. On the pier-table between the widows were
+a couple of images of saints, and a pile of play-bills of the
+rehearsals which the burgomaster was arranging. Against the opposite
+wall stood a four-legged piece of furniture covered with black leather,
+called "the sofa," and close by the huge tiled stove, behind which
+the burgomaster's wife had set the milk "to thicken." Near by was a
+wall-cupboard with a small writing-desk, and lastly a beautifully
+polished winding staircase which led through a hole in the ceiling
+directly into the sleeping-room, and was the seat of the family cat.
+This was the home of a great intellect, which reached far beyond these
+narrow bounds and to which the great epochs of the Passion Play were
+the only sphere in which it could really live, where it had a wide
+field for its talents and ambition--where it could find compensation
+for the ten years prose of petty, narrow circumstances. But the
+intervals of ten years were too long, and the elderly man was gradually
+losing the elasticity and enthusiasm which could bear him beyond the
+deprivations of a decade. He tried all sorts of ventures in order at
+least to escape the petty troubles of poverty, but they were
+unsuccessful and thereby he only became burdened the more. Thus in the
+strife with realism, constantly holding aloft the standard of the
+ideal, involved in inward and outward contradictions, the hapless man
+was wearing himself out--like most of the natives of Ammergau.
+
+"Well, what is it?" he now asked, entering the room. "Sit down."
+
+"Don't be vexed, but you know my husband must have his coffee, or he
+will be ill." The burgomaster's wife brought in the breakfast and set
+it on the table before him. "Don't let it get cold," she said
+warningly, then prudently retreated, even taking the cat with her, that
+the gentlemen might be entirely alone and undisturbed.
+
+"Drink it, pray drink it," urged Ludwig, and waited until the
+burgomaster had finished his scanty breakfast; which was quickly done.
+"Well? What is it!" asked the latter, pushing his cup aside.
+
+"I have news for you: Freyer is here!"
+
+"Ah!" The burgomaster started, and an ominous flush crimsoned his face.
+His hand trembled nervously as he smoothed his hair, once so beautiful,
+now grey. "Freyer--! How did he get here?"
+
+"I don't know--the question died on my lips when I saw him."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, he is such a spectacle, ill, half starved--in rags, an _Ecce
+homo_! I thought my heart would break when I saw him."
+
+"Aha--so Nemesis is here already."
+
+"Oh! do not speak so. Such a Nemesis is too cruel! I do not know what
+has befallen him--I could ask no questions, but I do know that Freyer
+has done nothing which deserves such a punishment. You can have no idea
+of the man's condition. He is lying at home--unable to move a limb."
+
+The burgomaster shrugged his shoulders. "What have I to do with it? You
+know that I never sympathize with self-created sorrows."
+
+"You need not, only you must help me obtain some means of livelihood
+for the unfortunate man. He still has his share of the receipts of the
+last Passion Play. He was not present at the distribution, but he
+played the Christus from May until August--to the best of my
+recollection his portion was between seven and eight hundred marks."
+
+"Quite right. But as he had run away and moreover very generously
+bequeathed all his property to the poor--I could not suppose that I
+must save the sum for a rainy day, and that he would so soon be in the
+position of becoming a burden upon the community!"
+
+"What did you do with the money?"
+
+"Don't you know? I divided it with the rest."
+
+Ludwig stamped his foot. "Oh, Heaven? that was my only hope! But he
+must have assistance, he has neither clothing nor shoes! I haven't a
+penny in the house except what we need for food. He cannot be seen
+in these garments, he would rather die. We cannot expose him to
+mockery--we must respect ourselves in him, he was the best Christus we
+ever had, and though the play was interrupted by him, we owe him a
+greater success and a larger revenue than we formerly obtained during a
+whole season. And, in return, should we allow him to go with empty
+hands--like the poet in Schiller's division of the earth, because he
+came too late?"
+
+"Yes." The burgomaster twisted his moustache with his thin fingers: "I
+am sorry for him--but the thing is done and cannot be changed."
+
+"It must be changed, the people must return the money!" cried the
+drawing-master vehemently.
+
+The burgomaster looked at him with his keen eyes, half veiled by their
+drooping lids. "Ask them," he said calmly and coldly. "Go and get
+it--if it can be had."
+
+Ludwig bit his lips. "Then something must be done by the parish."
+
+"That requires an agreement of the whole parish."
+
+"Call a meeting then."
+
+"Hm, hm!" The burgomaster smiled: "That is no easy matter. What do you
+think the people will answer, if I say: 'Herr Freyer ran away from us,
+interrupted the performances, made us lose about 100,000 marks,
+discredited the Passion Play in our own eyes and those of the world,
+and asks in return the payment of 800 marks from the parish treasury?"
+
+Ludwig let his arms fall in hopeless despair. "Then I don't know what
+to do--I must support my helpless old sisters. I cannot maintain him,
+too, or I would ask no one's aid. I think it should be a point of honor
+with us Ammergau people not to leave a member of the parish in the
+lurch, when he returns home poor and needy, especially a man like
+Freyer, whom we have more cause to thank than to reproach, say what you
+will. We are not a penal institution."
+
+"No, nor an asylum."
+
+"Well, we need be neither, but merely a community of free men, who
+should be solely ruled by the thought of love, but unfortunately have
+long ceased to be so."
+
+The burgomaster leaned quietly back in his chair, the drawing-master
+became more and more heated, as the other remained cold.
+
+"You always take refuge behind the parish, when you don't _wish_ to do
+anything--but when you _desire_ it, the parish never stands in your
+way!"
+
+The burgomaster pressed his hand to his brow, as if thinking wearied
+him. He belonged to the class of men whose hearts are in their heads.
+If anything made his heart ache, it disturbed his brain too. He
+remained silent a long time while Ludwig paced up and down the room,
+trembling with excitement. At last, not without a touch of bitter
+humor, he said:
+
+"I am well aware of that, you always say so whenever I do anything that
+does not suit you. I should like to see what would become of you, with
+your contradictory, impulsive artist nature, to-day 'Hosanna' and
+to-morrow 'Crucify Him,' if I did not maintain calmness and steadiness
+for you. If I, who bear the responsibility of acting, changed my
+opinions as quickly as you do and converted each of your momentary
+impulses into an act--I ought at least to possess the power to
+kill to-day, and to-morrow, when you repented, restore the person to
+life. Ten years ago, when Freyer left us in the lurch for the sake
+of a love affair, and dealt a blow to all we held sacred--you threw
+yourself into my arms and wept on my breast over the enormity of his
+deed--now--because I am not instantly touched by a few rags and
+tatters, and the woe-begone air of a penitent recovering from a moral
+debauch, you will weep on your friend's bosom over the harshness and
+want of feeling of the burgomaster! I'm used to it. I know you
+hotspurs."
+
+He drew a pair of boots from under the stove. "There--I am the owner of
+just two pairs of boots. You can take one to your protege, that he may
+at least appear before me in a respectable fashion to discuss the
+matter! I don't do it at the cost of the parish, however. And I can
+give you an old coat too--I was going to send it to my Anton, but, no
+matter! Only I beg you not to tell him from whom the articles come, or
+he will hate me because I was in a situation to help _him_--instead of
+he _me_."
+
+"Oh, how little you know him!" cried Ludwig.
+
+The burgomaster smiled. "I know the Ammergau people--and he is one of
+them!"
+
+"I thank you in his name," said Ludwig, instantly appeased.
+
+"Yes, you see you thank me for that, yet it is the least important
+thing. This is merely a private act of charity which I might show any
+rascal I pitied. But when I, as burgomaster, rigidly guard the honor of
+Ammergau and consider whom I recommend to public sympathy, you reproach
+me for it! Before I call a parish meeting and answer for him
+officially, I must know whether he is worthy of it, and what his
+condition is." He again pressed his hand to his head. "Send him to me
+at the office--then we will see."
+
+Ludwig held out his hand. "No offence, surely we know how we feel
+toward each other."
+
+When the drawing-master had gone, the burgomaster drew a long breath
+and remained for some time absorbed in thought. Then he glanced at the
+clock, not to learn the hour but to ascertain whether the conversation
+had lasted long enough to account for his headache and exhaustion. The
+result did not seem to soothe him. "Where will this end?"
+
+His wife looked in "Well, Father, what is it?"
+
+The burgomaster took his hat. "Freyer is here!"
+
+"Good Heavens!" She clasped her hands in amazement.
+
+"Yes, it was a great excitement to me. Tell Anastasia, that she may not
+learn the news from strangers. She has long been resigned, but of
+course this will move her deeply! And above all, don't let anything be
+said about it in the shop, I don't want the tidings to get abroad in
+the village, at least through us. Farewell!"
+
+The burgomaster's family enjoyed a small prerogative: the salt
+monopoly, and a little provision store where the tireless industry of
+the self-sacrificing wife collected a few groschen, "If I don't make
+something--who will?" she used to say, with a keen thrust at her
+husband's absence of economy. So the burgomaster did not mention his
+extravagance in connection with the boots and coat. He could not bear
+even just reproaches now. "A man was often compelled to exceed his
+means in a position like his"--but women did not understand that.
+Therefore, as usual, he fled from domestic lectures to the inaccessible
+regions of his office.
+
+The burgomaster's sister no longer lived in the same house. As she grew
+older, she had moved into one near the church which she inherited from
+her mother, where she lived quietly alone.
+
+"Yes, who's to run over to Stasi," lamented the burgomaster's wife,
+"when we all have our hands full. As if she wouldn't hear it soon
+enough. He'll never marry her! Rosel, Rosel!"
+
+The burgomaster's youngest daughter, the predestined Mary of the
+future, came in from the shop.
+
+"Run up to your aunt and tell her that Herr Freyer has come back, your
+father says so!"
+
+"Will he play the Christus again?" asked the child.
+
+"How do I know--your father didn't say! Perhaps so--they have no one.
+Oh dear, this Passion Play will be your father's death!"
+
+The shop-bell, pleasantest of sounds to the anxious woman,
+rang--customers must not be kept waiting, even for a little package of
+coffee. She hurried into the shop, and Rosel to her aunt Stasi.
+
+This was a good day to the burgomaster's worthy wife. The whole village
+bought something, in order to learn something about the interesting
+event which the Gross sisters, of course, had told early in the
+morning. And, as the burgomaster's wife maintained absolute silence,
+what the people did not know they invented--and of course the worst and
+most improbable things. Ere noon the wildest rumors were in
+circulation, and parties had formed who disputed vehemently over them.
+
+The burgomaster's wife was in the utmost distress. Everybody wanted
+information from her, and how easily she might let slip some incautious
+remark! In her task of keeping silence, she actually forgot that she
+really had nothing at all to conceal--because she knew nothing herself.
+Yet the fear of having said a word too much oppressed the conscientious
+woman so sorely that afterward, much to her husband's benefit, she was
+remarkably patient and spared him the usual reproach of not having
+thought of his wife and children, when she discovered that he had given
+away his boots and coat!--
+
+Thus in the strange little village the loftiest and the lowliest things
+always go hand in hand. But the noble often succumbs to the petty, when
+it lacks the power to rise above it.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+                            RECEIVED AGAIN.
+
+
+All through the morning the street where Ludwig's house stood was
+crowded with people. Toward noon a whisper ran through the throng: "He
+is coming!" and Freyer appeared. Many pressed forward curiously but
+shrank back again as Freyer drew near. "Good Heavens, how he looks!"
+
+Freyer tottered past them, raising his hat in greeting, but spite of
+his modest bearing and simple garb he seemed to have become so
+aristocratic a gentleman, that no one ventured to accost him. Something
+emanating from him inspired reverence, as if--in the presence of the
+dead. He was dead--at least to the world. The people felt this and the
+gossip suddenly ceased--the parties formed in an envious or malicious
+spirit were reconciled.
+
+"He won't live long!" This was the magic spell which soothed all
+contention. If he had any sin on his conscience, he would soon atone
+for it, if he had more money than the rest, he must soon "leave it
+behind," and if he desired to take a part he could not keep it long!
+Only the children who meanwhile had grown into tall lads and lasses ran
+trustfully to meet him, holding out their hands with the grace and
+charm peculiar to the Ammergau children. And because the grown people
+followed him, the little ones did the same. He stopped and talked with
+them, recognizing and calling by name each of the older ones, while
+their bright eyes gazed searchingly into his, as sunbeams pierce dark
+caverns. "Have you been ill, Herr Freyer?"
+
+"No, my dear children--or yes, as people may regard it, but I shall get
+well with you!" And, clasping half a dozen of the little hands in his,
+he walked on with them.
+
+"Will you play the divine friend of children with us again?" asked one
+of the larger girls beseechingly.
+
+"When Christmas comes, we will all play it again!" A strange smile
+transfigured Freyer's features, and tears filled his eyes.
+
+"Will you stay with us now?" they asked.
+
+"Yes!" It was only a single word, but the children felt that it was a
+vow, and the little band pressed closer and closer around him: "Yes,
+now you must never go away!"
+
+Freyer lifted a little boy in his arms and hid his face on the child's
+breast: "No, _never_, _never_ more!"
+
+A solemn silence reigned for a moment. The grief of a pure heart is
+sacred, and a child's soul feels the sacredness. The little group
+passed quietly through the village, and the children formed a
+protecting guard around him, so that the grown people could not hurt
+him with curious questions. The children showed their parents that
+peace must dwell between him and them--for the Ammergau people knew
+that in their children dwelt the true spirit which they had lost to a
+greater or less degree in the struggle for existence. The _children_
+had adopted him--now he was again at home in Ammergau; no parish
+meeting was needed to give him the rights of citizenship.
+
+The little procession reached the town-hall. Freyer put the child he
+was carrying on the ground--it did not want to leave him. The grown
+people feared him, but the children considered him their own property
+and were reluctant to give him up. Not until after long persuasion
+would they let him enter. As he ascended the familiar stairs his heart
+throbbed so violently that he was obliged to lean against the wall. A
+long breath, a few steps more--then a walk through the empty council
+room to the office, a low knock, the well-known "come in!"--and he
+stood before the burgomaster. It is not the custom among the people of
+Ammergau to rise when receiving each other. "Good-morning!" said the
+burgomaster, keeping his seat as if to finish some pressing task--but
+really because he was struggling for composure: "Directly!"
+
+Freyer remained standing at the door.
+
+The burgomaster went on writing. A furtive glance surveyed the figure
+in his coat and shoes--but he did not raise his eyes to Freyer's face,
+the latter would have seen it. At last he gained sufficient composure
+to speak, and now feigned to be aware for the first time of the
+new-comer's identity. "Ah, Herr Freyer!" he said, and the eyes of the
+two men met. It was a sad sight to both.
+
+The burgomaster, once so strong and stately, aged, shrunken,
+prematurely worn. Freyer an image of suffering which was almost
+startling.
+
+"Herr Burgomaster, I do not know--whether I may still venture--"
+
+"Pray take a chair, Herr Freyer," said the burgomaster.
+
+Freyer did so, and sat down at some distance.
+
+"You do not seem to have prospered very well," said the other, less to
+learn the truth than to commence conversation.
+
+"You doubtless see that."
+
+"Yes----! I could have wished that matters had resulted differently!"
+
+Both were silent, overpowered by emotion. At the end of a few minutes
+the burgomaster continued in a low tone: "I meant so well by you--it is
+a pity--!"
+
+"Yes, you have _much_ to forgive me, no one knows that better than
+I--but you will not reject a penitent man, if he wishes to make amends
+for the wrong."
+
+The burgomaster rubbed his forehead: "I do not reject you, but--I have
+already told the drawing-master, I only regret that I can do nothing
+for you. You are not ill--I cannot support you from the fund for the
+sick and it will be difficult to accomplish anything with the parish."
+
+"Oh, Herr Burgomaster, I never expected to be supported. Only, when I
+arrived yesterday I was so weary that I could explain nothing to
+Ludwig, otherwise he would surely have spared you and me the step which
+his great sympathy induced him to take. The clothing with which you
+have helped me out of embarrassment for the moment, I will gratefully
+accept as _loaned_, but I hope to repay you later."
+
+"Pray let us say no more about it!" answered the burgomaster, waving
+his hand.
+
+"Yes! For it can only shame me if you generously bestow material
+aid--and yet cherish resentment against me in your heart for the wrong
+I have done. What my sick soul most needs is reconciliation with you
+and my home. And for that I _can_ ask."
+
+"I am not implacable, Herr Freyer! You have done me no personal
+wrong--you have merely injured the cause which lies nearest to my heart
+of anything in the world. This is a grief, which must be fought down,
+but for which I cannot hold you responsible, though it cost me health
+and life. I feel no personal rancor for what had no personal intention.
+If a man flings a stone at the image of a saint and unintentionally
+strikes me on the temple, I shall not make him responsible for
+that--but for having aimed at something which was sacred to others. To
+_punish_ him for it I shall leave to a higher judge."
+
+"Permit me to remain silent. You must regard the matter thus from your
+standpoint, and I can show you no better one. The right of defense is
+denied me. Only I would fain defend myself against the reproach that
+what is sacred to others is not to me. Precisely because it is sacred
+to me--perhaps more sacred than to others, I have sinned against it."
+
+"That is a contradiction which I do not understand!"
+
+"And I cannot explain!"
+
+"Well, it is not my business to pry into your secrets and judge your
+motives. I am not your confessor. I told you that I left God to judge
+such things. My duty as burgomaster requires me to aid any member of
+the parish to the best of my ability in matters pertaining to earning a
+livelihood. If you will give me your confidence, I am ready to aid you
+with advice and action. I don't know what you wish to do. You gave your
+little property to our poor--do you wish to take it back?"
+
+"Oh, never, Herr Burgomaster, I never take back what I give," replied
+Freyer.
+
+"But you will then find it difficult, more difficult than others, to
+support yourself," the burgomaster continued. "You went to the
+carving-school too late to earn your bread by wood-carving. You know no
+trade--you are too well educated to pursue more menial occupations,
+such as those of a day-laborer, street-sweeper, etc.--and you would be
+too proud to live at the expense of the parish, even if we could find a
+way of securing a maintenance for you. It is really very difficult, one
+does not know what to say. Perhaps a messenger's place might be
+had--the carrier from Linderhof has been ill a long time."
+
+"Have no anxiety on that score, Herr Burgomaster. During my absence, I
+devoted my leisure time mainly to drawing and modelling. I also read a
+great deal, especially scientific works, so that I believe I could
+support myself by carving, if I keep my health. If that fails, I'll
+turn wood-cutter. The forest will be best for me. That gives me no
+anxiety."
+
+The burgomaster again rubbed his forehead. "Perhaps if the indignation
+roused by your desertion has subsided, it may be possible to give you
+employment at the Passion Theatre as superintendent, assistant, or in
+the wardrobe room."
+
+Freyer rose, a burning blush crimsoned his face, instantly
+followed by a deathlike pallor. "You are not in earnest, Herr
+Burgomaster--I--render menial service in the Passion--I? Then woe
+betide the home which turns her sons from her threshold with mockery
+and disgrace, when they seek her with the yearning and repentance of
+mature manhood."
+
+Freyer covered his face with his hands, grief robbed him of speech.
+
+The burgomaster gave him a moment's time to calm himself. "Yes, Herr
+Freyer, but tell me, do you expect, after all that has occurred, to be
+made the Christus?"
+
+"What else should I expect? For what other purpose should _I_ come here
+than to aid the community in need, for my dead cousin Josepha received
+a letter from one of our relatives here, stating that you had no
+Christus and did not know what to do. It seemed to me like a summons
+from Heaven and I knew at that moment where my place was allotted. Life
+had no farther value for me--one thought only sustained me, to be
+something to my _home_, to repair the injury I had done her, atone for
+the sin I had committed--and this time I should have accomplished it. I
+walked night and day, with one desire in my heart, one goal before my
+eyes, and now--to be rejected thus--oh, it is too much, it is the last
+blow!"
+
+"Herr Freyer--I am extremely sorry, and can understand how it must
+wound you, yet you must see yourself that we cannot instantly give a
+man who voluntarily, not to say _wilfully_, deserted us and remained
+absent so long that he has become a stranger, the most important part
+in the Play when want forces him to again seek a livelihood in
+Ammergau."
+
+"I am become a stranger because I remained absent ten years? May God
+forgive you, Herr Burgomaster. We must both render an account to Him of
+our fulfilment of His sacred mission--He will then decide which of us
+treasured His image more deeply in his heart--you here--or I in the
+world outside."
+
+"That is very beautiful and sounds very noble--but, Herr Freyer, you
+_prove_ nothing by your appeal to God, He is patient and the day which
+must bring this decision is, I hope, still far distant from you and
+myself!"
+
+"It is perhaps nearer to me than you suppose, Herr Burgomaster!"
+
+"Such phrases touch women, but not men, Herr Freyer!"
+
+Freyer straightened himself like a bent bush which suddenly shakes off
+the snow that burdened it. "I have not desired to touch any one, my
+conscience is clear, and I do not need to appeal to your compassion. A
+person may be ill and feeble enough to long for sympathy, without
+intending to profit by it. I thought that I might let my heart speak,
+that I should be understood here. I was mistaken. It is not _I_ who
+have become estranged from my home--home has grown alienated from me
+and you, as the ruling power in the community, who might mediate
+between us, sever the last bond which united me to it. Answer for it
+one day to Ammergau, if you expel those who would shed their heart's
+blood for you, and to whom the cause of the Passion Play is still an
+earnest one."
+
+"Oh, Herr Freyer, it would be sad indeed if we were compelled to seek
+earnest supporters of our cause in the ranks of the deserters--who
+abandoned us from selfish motives."
+
+"Herr Burgomaster!--" Freyer reflected a moment--it was difficult to
+fathom what was passing in his mind--it seemed as if he were gathering
+strength from the inmost depths of his heart to answer this accusation.
+"It is a delicate matter to speak in allegories, where deeds are
+concerned--you began it out of courtesy to me--and I will continue from
+the same motive, though figurative language is not to my taste--we
+strike a mark in life without having aimed! But to keep to your simile:
+I have only deserted in my own person, if you choose to call it so, and
+have now voluntarily returned--But you, Herr Burgomaster, how have you
+guarded, in my absence, the fortress entrusted to your care?"
+
+The burgomaster flushed crimson, but his composure remained unshaken:
+"Well?"
+
+"You have opened your gates to the most dangerous foes, to everything
+which cannot fail to destroy the good old Ammergau customs; you have
+done everything to attract strangers and help Ammergau in a business
+way--it was well meant in the material sense--but not in the ideal one
+which you emphasize so rigidly in my case! The more you open Ammergau
+to the influences of the outside world, the more the simplicity, the
+piety, the temperance will vanish, without which no great work of faith
+like the Passion Play is possible. The world has a keen appreciation of
+truth--the world believes in us because we ourselves believe in it--as
+soon as we progress so far in civilization that it becomes a farce to
+our minds, we are lost, for then it will be a farce to the world also.
+You intend to secure in the Landrath the cutting of a road through the
+Ettal Mountain. That would be a great feat--one might say: 'Faith
+removes mountains,' for on account of the Passion Play consent would
+perhaps be granted, then your name, down to the latest times, would be
+mentioned in the history of Ammergau with gratitude and praise. But do
+you know what you will have done? You will have let down the drawbridge
+to the mortal foe of everything for which you battle, removed the wall
+which protected the individuality of Ammergau and amid all the changes
+of the times, the equalizing power of progress, has kept it that
+miracle of faith to which the world makes pilgrimages. For a time the
+world will come in still greater throngs by the easier road--but in a
+few decades it will no longer find the Ammergau it seeks--its flood
+will have submerged it, washed it away, and a new, prosperous, politic
+population will move upon the ruins of a vanished time and a buried
+tradition.
+
+"Freyer!" The burgomaster was evidently moved: "You see the matter in
+too dark colors--we are still the old people of Ammergau and God will
+help us to remain so."
+
+"No, you are so no longer. Already there are traces of a different,
+more practical view of life--of so-called progress. I read to-day at
+Ludwig's the play-bills of the practise theatre which you have
+established during the last ten years since the Passion Play! Herr
+Burgomaster, have you kept in view the seriousness of the mission of
+Ammergau when you made the actors of the Passion buffoons?"
+
+"Freyer!" The burgomaster drew himself up haughtily.
+
+"Well, Herr Burgomaster, have you performed no farces, or at least
+comic popular plays? Was the Carver of Ammergau--which for two years
+you had _publicly_ performed on the consecrated ground of the Passion
+Theatre, adapted to keep the impression of the Passion Play in the
+souls of the people of Ammergau? No--the last tear of remembrance which
+might have lingered would be dried by the exuberant mirth, which once
+roused would only too willingly exchange the uncomfortable tiara for
+the lighter fool's cap! And you gave the world this spectacle, Herr
+Burgomaster, you showed the personators of the story of our Lord and
+Saviour's sufferings in this guise to the strangers, who came, still
+full of reverence, to see the altar--on which the sacred fire had
+smouldered into smoke! I know you will answer that you wished to give
+the people a little breathing space after the terrible earnestness of
+the Passion Play and, from your standpoint, this was prudent, for you
+will be the gainer if the community is cheerful under your rule. Happy
+people are more easily governed than grave, thoughtful ones! I admit
+that you have no other desire than to make the people happy according
+to your idea, and that your whole ambition is to leave Ammergau great
+and rich. But, Herr Burgomaster, you cannot harmonize the two objects
+of showing the world, with convincing truth, the sublime religion of
+pain and resignation, and living in ease and careless frivolity. The
+divine favor cannot be purchased without the sacrifice of pleasure and
+personal comfort, otherwise we are merely performing a puppet show with
+God, and His blessing will be withdrawn."
+
+Freyer paused and stood gazing into vacancy with folded arms.
+
+The burgomaster watched him calmly a long time. "I have listened to you
+quietly because your view of the matter interested me. It is the idea
+of an enthusiast, a character becoming more and more rare in our
+prosaic times. But pardon me--I can give it only a subjective value.
+According to your theory, I must keep Ammergau, as a bit of the Middle
+Ages, from any contact with the outside world, rob it of every aid in
+the advancement of its industrial and material interests in order, as
+it were, to prepare the unfortunate people, by want and trouble, to be
+worthy representatives of the Passion. This would be admirable if,
+instead of Burgomaster of Ammergau, I were Grand Master of an Order for
+the practice of spiritual asceticism--and Ammergau were a Trappist
+monastery. But as burgomaster of a secular community, I must first of
+all provide for its prosperity, and that this would produce too much
+luxury there is not, as yet, unfortunately, the slightest prospect! My
+task as chief magistrate of a place is first to render it as great,
+rich, and happy as possible, that is a direct obligation to the village
+and an indirect one to the State. Not until I have satisfied _this_ can
+I consider the more ideal side of my office--in my capacity as director
+of the Passion Play. But even there I have no authority to exercise any
+moral constraint in the sense of your noble--but fanatical and
+unpractical view. You must have had bitter experiences, Herr Freyer,
+that you hold earthly blessings so cheap, and you must not expect to
+convert simple-hearted people, who enjoy their lives and their work, to
+these pessimistic views, as if we could serve our God only with a
+troubled mind. We must let a people, as well as a single person, retain
+its individuality. I want to rear no hypocrites, and I cannot force
+martyrdom on any one, in order to represent the Passion Play more
+naturally. Such things cannot be enforced."
+
+"For that very reason you need people who will do them voluntarily! And
+though, thank Heaven, they still exist in Ammergau, you have not such
+an over supply that you need repel those who would fain increase the
+little band. Believe me, I have lived in closer communion with my home
+in the outside world than if I had remained here and been swayed by the
+various opposing streams of our brothers' active lives! Do you know
+where the idea of the Passion Play reveals itself in its full beauty?
+Not here in Ammergau--but in the world outside--as the gas does not
+give its light where it is prepared, but at a distance. Therefore, I
+think you ought not to measure a son of Ammergau's claim according to
+the time he has spent here, but according to the feeling he cherishes
+for Ammergau, and in this sense even _the stranger_ may be a better
+representative of Ammergau than the natives of the village themselves."
+
+"Yes, Freyer, you are right--but--_one_ frank word deserves another.
+You have surprised and touched me--but although I am compelled to make
+many concessions to circumstances and the spirit of the times, which
+are in contradiction to my own views and involve me in conflicts with
+myself, of which you younger men probably have no idea--nothing in the
+world will induce me to be faithless to my principles in matters
+connected with the Passion. Forgive the harsh words, Freyer, but I must
+say it: Your actions do not agree with the principles you have just
+uttered, and you cannot make this contradiction appear plausible to any
+one. Who will credit the sincerity of your moral rigor after you have
+lived nine years in an equivocal relation with the lady with whom you
+left us? Freyer, a man who has done _that_--can no longer personate the
+Christ."
+
+Freyer stood silent as a statue.
+
+The burgomaster held out his hand--"You see that I cannot act
+otherwise; do you not? Rather let the Play die out utterly than a
+Christus on whom rests a stain. So long as you cannot vindicate
+yourself--"
+
+Freyer drew himself proudly: "And that I will never do!"
+
+"You must renounce it."
+
+"Yes, I must renounce it. Farewell, Herr Burgomaster!"
+
+Freyer bowed and left the room--he was paler than when he entered, but
+no sound betrayed the mortal anguish gnawing at his heart. The
+burgomaster, too, was painfully moved. His poor head was burning--he
+was sorry for Freyer, but he could not do otherwise.
+
+Just as Freyer reached the door, a man hurried in with a letter, Freyer
+recognized the large well-known chirography on the envelope as he
+passed--Countess Wildenau's handwriting. His brain reeled, and he was
+compelled to cling to the door post. The burgomaster noticed it.
+"Please sit down a moment, Herr Freyer--the letter is addressed to me,
+but will probably concern you."
+
+The man retired. Freyer stood irresolute.
+
+The burgomaster read the contents of the note at a glance, then handed
+it to Freyer.
+
+"Thank you--I do not read letters which are not directed to me."
+
+"Very well, then I must tell you. The Countess Wildenau, not having
+your address, requests me to take charge of a considerable sum of money
+which I am to invest for you in landed property or in stocks, according
+to my own judgment. You were not to hear of it until the gift had been
+legally attested. But I deem it my duty to inform you of this."
+
+Freyer stood calmly before him, with a clear, steadfast gaze. "I cannot
+be forced to accept a gift if I do not desire it, can I?"
+
+"Certainly not."
+
+"Then please write to the countess that I can accept neither gifts nor
+any kind of assistance from--strangers, and that you, as well as I,
+will positively decline every attempt to show her generosity in this
+way."
+
+"Freyer!" cried the burgomaster, "will you not some day repent the
+pride which rejects a fortune thus flung into your lap?"
+
+"I am not proud--I begged my bread on my way here, Herr
+Burgomaster--and if there were no other means of livelihood, I would
+not be ashamed to accept the crust the poorest man would share with
+me--but from Countess Wildenau I will receive nothing--I would rather
+starve."
+
+The burgomaster sprang from his chair and approached him. His gaunt
+figure was trembling with emotion, his weary eyes flashed with
+enthusiasm, he extended his arms: "Freyer--now you belong to us once
+more--_now_ you shall again play the Christus."
+
+Silently, in unutterable, mournful happiness, Freyer sank upon the
+burgomaster's breast.
+
+His home was appeased.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+                        AT DAISENBERGER's GRAVE.
+
+
+It was high noon. The children were at school, the grown people had
+gone to their work. The village was silent and no one stopped Freyer as
+he hurried down the broad old "Aussergasse," as the main street of the
+place was called, with its painted houses, toward the graveyard and the
+church.
+
+In the cemetery beside the church stands a simple monument with a
+bronze bust. An unlovely head with all sorts of lines, as if nature had
+intentionally given this soul an ugly husk, out of wrath that it was
+not to be hers, that she could not have as much power over it as over
+other dust-born mortals--for this soul belonged to Heaven, earth had no
+share in it. But no matter how nature strove to disfigure it, its pure
+beauty shone through the physical covering so radiantly that even
+mortal eyes perceived only the beauty and overlooked the ugliness.
+
+This soul, which might also be called the soul of Ammergau, for it
+cherished the whole population of the village, lived for the people,
+gave them all and kept nothing for itself--this noble spirit, to whom
+the gratitude of the survivors, and they embraced the whole community,
+had created a monument, was Alois Daisenberger--the reformer of the
+Passion Play.
+
+It is a peculiar phenomenon that the people of Ammergau, in contrast to
+all others, are grateful only for intellectual gifts while they punish
+physical benefits with scorn. It offends their pride to be compelled to
+accept such trifling donations and they cherish a suspicion that the
+donor may boast of his benefits. Whoever has not the self-denial to
+allay this suspicion by enduring all sorts of humiliations and affronts
+must not try to aid the Ammergau villagers. He who has done any _good_
+deed has accomplished _nothing_--not until he has atoned for it, as
+though it were something evil, does he lend it its proper value and
+appease the offended pride of the recipient.
+
+This was the case with Daisenberger. He bore with saintly patience all
+the angularities and oddities of these strange characters--and they
+honored him as a saint for it. He had the eye of genius for the natural
+talent, a heart for the sufferings, appreciation of the intellectual
+grandeur of these people. And he gave security for it--for no worldly
+honor, no bishopric which was offered could lure him away. What was it
+that outweighed everything with which church and government desired to
+honor him? Whoever stands in the quiet graveyard, fanned by the keen
+mountain air which brings from the village stray notes of a requiem
+that is being practised, surrounded by snow-clad mountain-peaks gazing
+dreamily down on the little mound with its tiny cross, whoever gazes at
+the monument with its massive head, looking down upon the village from
+beneath a garland of fresh blue gentians, is overwhelmed by a mournful
+suspicion that here is concealed a secret in which a great intellect
+could find the satisfaction of its life! But it seems as if the key
+rested in Daisenberger's grave.
+
+To this grave Freyer hastened. The first errand of the returned
+personator of Christ was to his author! The solitary grave lay
+forgotten by the world. It is a genuine work of faith and love when the
+author vanishes in his creation and leaves the honor to God. The whole
+world flocks to the Passion Play--but no one thinks of him who created
+for it the form which renders it available for the present time. It is
+the "Oberammergau," not the "Daisenberger" Passion Play.
+
+He gave to the people of Ammergau not only his life and powers--but
+also that which a man is most loth to resign--his fame. He was one to
+whom earth could neither give anything, nor take anything away.
+Therefore there were few who visited his grave in the little Ammergau
+churchyard. The grace and beauty of his grand and noble artist soul
+weave viewless garlands for it.
+
+Freyer knelt in mute devotion beside the grave and prayed, not for
+himself, not even for him who was one of the host of the blessed, but
+to him, that he might sanctify his people and strengthen them with the
+sacred earnestness of their task. The longer he gazed at the iron, yet
+gentle face, without seeing any change in the familiar features, which
+had once smiled so kindly at him when he uttered for the first time the
+words expelling the money-changers from the temple--the greater became
+his grief, as if the soul of his people had died with Daisenberger, as
+if Ammergau were only a graveyard and he the sole mourner.
+
+"Oh, great, noble soul, which had room for a world, and yet confined
+yourself to this narrow valley in order to create in it for us a world
+of love--here lies your unworthy Christus moistening with his tears the
+stone which no angel will roll away that we may touch your transfigured
+body and say, give us thy spirit!"
+
+Then, as if the metal mouth from which he implored an answer spoke with
+a brazen tongue, a bell echoed solemnly on the air. It was twelve
+o'clock. What the voice said could not be clothed in words. It had
+exhorted him when, in baptism, he was received into the covenant of Him
+whom he was chosen to personate--it had consoled him when, a weeping
+boy, he followed his father's bier, it had threatened him when on
+Sunday with his schoolmates, he pulled too violently at the bell-rope,
+it had warned him when he had lingered high up on the peaks of the
+Kofel or Laaber searching for Alpine roses or, shouting exultantly,
+climbing after chamois. A smile flitted over his face as he thought of
+those days! And then--then that very bell had pealed resonantly, like a
+voice from another world, on the morning of the Passion, at the hour
+when he stood in the robes of the Christ behind the curtain with the
+others to repeat the Lord's Prayer before the performance--the lofty,
+fervent prayer that God would aid them, that all might go well "for His
+honor." And again it had rung solemnly and sweetly, when he saw the
+beautiful woman praying at dawn in the garden--to the imaginary God,
+which he was _not_. Then it seemed as if the bell burst--there was a
+shrill discord, a keen pang through brain and heart. Oh, memory--the
+past! Angel and fiend at once--why do you conjure up your visions
+before one dedicated to the cross and to death, why do you rouse the
+longing for what is irrevocably lost? Freyer, groaning aloud, rested
+his damp brow against the cold stone, and the bronze bust, as if in
+pity, dropped a blue gentian from its garland on the penitent's head
+with a light touch, like a kiss from spirit lips. He took it and placed
+it in his pocketbook beside the child's fair curl--the only thing left
+him of all his vanished happiness.
+
+Then a hand was laid on his shoulder: "I thank you--that _this_ was
+your first visit." The sexton stood before him: "I see that you have
+remained a true son of Ammergau. May God be with you!"
+
+Freyer's tears fell as he grasped the extended hand. "Oh, noble blood
+of Daisenberger, thank you a thousand times. And you, true son of
+Ammergau--nephew of our dead guardian angel, tell me in his name, will
+you receive me again in your midst and in the sacred work?"
+
+"I do not know what you have done and experienced," said the sexton,
+gazing at him with his large, loyal brown eyes. "I only saw you at a
+distance, praying beside my uncle's grave, and I thought that whoever
+did that could not be lost to us. By this dear grave, I give you my
+hand. Will you work with me, live, and if need be die for the sacred
+will of this dead man, for our great task, as he cherished it in his
+heart?"
+
+"Yes and amen!"
+
+"Then may God bless you."
+
+The two men looked earnestly and loyally into each other's eyes, and
+their hands clasped across the consecrated mound, as though taking an
+oath.
+
+Suddenly a woman, still beautiful though somewhat beyond youth,
+appeared, moving with dignified cordiality toward Freyer: "Good-day,
+Herr Freyer; do you remember me?" she said in a quiet, musical voice,
+holding out her hand.
+
+"Mary!" cried Freyer, clasping it. "Anastasia, why should I not
+remember you? How do you do? But why do you call me Herr Freyer? Have
+we become strangers?"
+
+"I thought I ought not to use the old form of speech, you have been
+away so long, and"--she paused an instant, looking at him with a
+pitying glance, as if to say: "And are so unhappy." For delicate
+natures respect misfortune more than rank and wealth, and the sufferer
+is sacred to them.
+
+The sexton looked at the clock: "I must go, the vesper service begins
+again at one o'clock. Farewell till we meet again. Are you coming to
+the gymnasium this evening?"
+
+"Hardly--I am not very well. But we shall see each other soon. Are you
+married now? I have not asked--"
+
+The sexton's face beamed with joy. "Yes, indeed, and well married. I
+have a good wife. You'll see her when you call on me."
+
+"A good wife--you are a happy man!" said Freyer in a low tone.
+
+"She has a great deal to do just now for the little one."
+
+"Ah--you have a child, too!"
+
+"And such a beautiful one!" added Anastasia. "A lovely little girl! She
+will be a Mary some day. But the sexton's wife is spoiling her, she
+hardly lets her out of her arms."
+
+"A good mother--that must be beautiful!" said Freyer, with a strange
+expression, as if speaking in a dream. Then he pressed his friend's
+hand and turned to go.
+
+"Will you not bid me good bye, too?" asked Anastasia. The sexton sadly
+made a sign behind Freyer's back, as if to say: "he has suffered
+sorely!" and went into his church.
+
+Freyer turned quickly. "Yes, I forgot, my Mary. I am rude, am I not?"
+
+"No--not rude--only unhappy!" said Anastasia, while a pitying look
+rested upon his emaciated face.
+
+"Yes!" replied Freyer, lowering his lids as if he did not wish her to
+read in his eyes _how_ unhappy. But she saw it nevertheless. For a
+time the couple stood beside Daisenberger's grave. "If _he_ were only
+alive--he would know what would help you."
+
+Freyer shook his head. "If Christ Himself should come from Heaven, He
+could not help me, at least except through my faith in Him."
+
+"Joseph, will you not go home with me? Look down yonder, there is my
+house. It is very pretty; come with me. I shall consider it an honor if
+you will stop there!" She led the way. Freyer involuntarily followed,
+and they soon reached the little house.
+
+"Then you no longer live with your brother, the burgomaster?"
+
+"Oh, no! After I grew older I longed for rest and solitude, and at my
+sister-in-law's there is always so much bustle on account of the shop
+and the children--one hears so many painful things said--" She paused
+in embarrassment. Then opening the door into the little garden, they
+went to the rear of the house where they could sit on a bench
+undisturbed.
+
+"What you heard was undoubtedly about me, and you could not endure it.
+You faithful soul--was not that the reason you left your relatives and
+lived alone?" said Freyer, seating himself. "Be frank--were you not
+obliged to hear many things against me, till you at last doubted your
+old schoolmate?"
+
+"Yes--many evil things were said of you and the princess--but I never
+believed them. I do not know what happened, but whatever it was, _you_
+did nothing wrong."
+
+"Mary, where did you obtain this confidence?"
+
+"Why," she answered smiling, "surely I know my son--and what mother
+would distrust her _child_?"
+
+Freyer was deeply moved: "Oh, you virgin mother. Marvel of Heaven, when
+in the outside world a mother abandoned her own child--here a child was
+maturing into a mother for me, a mother who would have compassion on
+the deserted one. Mary, pure maid-servant of God, how have I deserved
+this mercy?"
+
+"I always gave you a mother's love, from the time we played together,
+and I have mourned for you as a mother all the nine years. But I
+believed in you and hoped that you would some day return and close your
+old mother's eyes and, though twenty years had passed, I should not
+have ceased to hope. I was right, and you have come! Ah! I would
+not let myself dream that I should ever play with you again in the
+Passion--ever hold my Christus in my arms and support his weary head
+when he is taken down from the cross. That happiness transcends every
+other joy! True, I am an old maid now, and I wonder that they should
+let me take the part again. I am thirty-nine, you know, rather old for
+the Mary, yet I think it will be more natural, for Mary, too, was old
+when Christ was crucified!"
+
+"Thirty-nine, and still unmarried--such a beautiful creature--how did
+that happen, Mary?"
+
+She smiled: "Oh, I did not wish to marry any one.--I could not care for
+any one as I did for my Christus!"
+
+"Great Heaven, is this on my conscience too? A whole life wasted in
+silent hope, love, and fidelity to me--smiling and unreproachful! This
+soul might have been mine, this flower bloomed for me in the quiet home
+valley, and I left it to wither while searing heart and brain in the
+outside world. Mary, I will not believe that you have lost your life
+for my sake--you are still so beautiful, you will yet love and be happy
+at some good man's side."
+
+"Oh, no, what fancy have you taken into your head! That was over long
+ago," she answered gayly. "I am a year older than you--too old for a
+woman. Look, when the hair is grey, one no longer thinks of marrying."
+And pushing back her thick brown hair from her temples, she showed
+beneath white locks--as white as snow!
+
+"Oh, you have grown grey, perhaps for me--!" he said, deeply moved.
+
+"Yes, maternal cares age one early."
+
+He flung himself in the grass before her, unable to speak. She passed
+her hand gently over his bowed head: "Ah, if my poor son had only
+returned a happy man--how my heart would have rejoiced. If you had
+brought back a dear wife from the city, I would have helped her, done
+the rough work to which she was not accustomed--and if you had had a
+child, how I would have watched and tended it! If it had been a boy, we
+would have trained him to be the Christus--would we not? Then for
+twenty years he could have played it--your image."
+
+Freyer started as though the words had pierced his inmost soul. She did
+not suspect it, and went on: "Then perhaps the Christus might have
+descended from child to grandchild in your family--that would have been
+beautiful."
+
+He made no reply; a low sob escaped his breast.
+
+"I have often imagined such things during the long years when I sat
+alone through the winter evenings! But unfortunately it has not
+resulted so! You return a poor lonely man--and silver threads are
+shining in _your_ hair too. When I look at them, I long to weep. What
+did those wicked strangers in the outside world do to you, my poor
+Joseph, that you are so pale and ill? It seems as if they had crucified
+you and taken you down from the cross ere life had wholly departed; and
+now you could neither live nor die, but moved about like one half dead.
+I fancy I can see your secret wounds, your poor heart pierced by the
+spear! Oh, my suffering child, rest your head once more on the knee of
+her who would give her heart's blood for you!" She gently drew his head
+down and placing one hand under it, like a soft cushion, lovingly
+stroked his forehead as if to wipe away the blood-stains of the crown
+of thorns, while tear after tear fell from her long lashes on her
+son--the son of a virgin mother.
+
+Silence reigned around them--there was a rustling sound above their
+heads as if the wind was blowing through palms and cedars--a weeping
+willow spread its boughs above them, and from the churchyard wall the
+milkwort nodded a mute greeting from Golgotha.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+                             THE WATCHWORD.
+
+
+While the lost son of Ammergau was quietly and sadly permitting the
+miracle of his home to produce its effect upon him, and rising from one
+revelation to another along the steep path which again led him to the
+cross, the countess was languishing in the oppressive atmosphere of the
+capital and its relations.
+
+Three days had passed since the parting from Freyer, but she scarcely
+knew it! She lived behind her closed curtains and in the evenings
+sat in the light of lamps subdued by opalescent shades, as if in a
+never-changing white night, in which there could be neither dusk nor
+dawn. And it was the same in her soul. Reason--cold, joyless reason,
+with its calm, monotonous light, now ruled her, she had exhausted all
+the forces of grief in those farewell hours. For grief, too, is a force
+which can be exhausted, and then the soul will rest in indifference.
+Everything was now the same to her. The sacrifice and the cost of the
+sacrifice. What did the world contain that was worth trouble and
+anxiety? Nothing! Everything she had hoped for on earth had proved
+false--false and treacherous. Life had kept its promise to her in
+nothing; there was no happiness, only he who had no desires was
+happy--a happiness no better than death! And she had not even reached
+that stage! She still wanted so many things: honor, power, beauty, and
+luxury, which only wealth procures--and therefore this also.
+
+Now she flung herself into the arms of beauty--"seeking in it the
+divine" and the man who offered her his hand in aid would understand
+how to obtain for her, with taste and care, the last thing she expected
+from life--pleasure! Civilization had claimed her again, she was the
+woman of the century, a product of civilization! She desired nothing
+more. A marriage of convenience with a clever, aristocratic man, with
+whom she would become a patron of art and learning; a life of amusement
+and pleasurable occupation she now regarded as the normal one, and the
+only one to be desired.
+
+While Freyer, among his own people, was returning to primitiveness and
+simplicity, she was constantly departing farther from it, repelled and
+terrified by the phenomena with which Nature, battling for her eternal
+rights, confronted her. For Nature is a tender mother only to him who
+deals honestly with her--woe betide him who would trifle with her--she
+shows him her terrible earnestness.
+
+"Only despise reason and learning, the highest powers of mankind!" How
+often the Mephistopheles within her soul had jeeringly cried. Yes, he
+was right--she was punished for having despised and misunderstood the
+value of the work of civilization at which mankind had toiled for
+years. She would atone for it. She had turned in a circle, the wheel
+had almost crushed her, but at least she was glad to have reached the
+same spot whence she started ten years ago. At least so she believed!
+
+In this mood the duke found her on his return from Prankenberg.
+
+"Good news, the danger is over! The old pastor was prudent enough to
+die with the secret!" he cried, radiant with joy, as he entered.
+
+"Nothing was to be found! There is nothing in the church record! The
+Wildenaus have no proof and can do nothing unless Herr Freyer plays us
+a trick with the marriage certificate--"
+
+"That anxiety is needless!" replied the countess, taking from her
+writing-table the little package containing Freyer's farewell note, the
+marriage certificate, and the account-book. "There, read it."
+
+Her face wore a strange expression as she handed it to him, a look as
+if she were accusing him of having tempted her to murder an innocent
+person. She was pale and there was something hostile, reproachful, in
+her attitude.
+
+The duke glanced through the papers. "This is strange," he said very
+gravely: "Is the man so great--or so small?"
+
+"So great!" she murmured under her breath.
+
+"Hm! I should not have expected it of him. Is this no farce? Has he
+really gone?"
+
+"Yes! And here is something else." She gave him the burgomaster's
+letter: "This is the answer I received to-day to my offer to provide
+for Freyer's future."
+
+"If this is really greatness--then--" the prince drew a long breath as
+if he could not find the right word: "Then--I don't know whether we
+have done right."
+
+The countess felt as if a thunderbolt had struck her. "_You_ say
+that--_you_?"
+
+The duke rose and paced up and down the room. "I always tell the truth.
+If this man was capable of such an act--then--I reproach myself, for he
+deserved better treatment than to be flung overboard in this way, and
+we have incurred a great responsibility."
+
+"Good Heavens, and you say this now, when it is too late!" groaned the
+unhappy woman.
+
+"Be calm. The fault is _mine_--not yours. I will assume the whole
+responsibility--but it oppresses me the more heavily because, ever
+since I went to Prankenberg, I have been haunted by the question
+whether this was really necessary? My object was first of all to save
+you. In this respect I have nothing for which to reproach myself. But
+I overestimated your danger and undervalued Freyer. I did not know
+him--now that I do my motive dissolves into nothing."
+
+He cast another glance at Freyer's farewell note and shook his head:
+"It is hard to understand! What must it have cost thus at one blow to
+resign everything that was dear, give up without conditions the papers
+which at least would have made him a rich man--and all without one
+complaint, without any boastfulness, simply, naturally! Madeleine, it
+is overwhelming--it is _shameful_ to us."
+
+The countess covered her face. Both remained silent a long time.
+
+The duke still gazed at the letter. Then, resting his head on his hand
+and looking fixedly into vacancy, he said: "There is a constraining
+power about this man, which draws us all into its spell and compels us
+not to fall behind him in generosity. But--how is this to be done? He
+cannot be reached by ordinary means. I am beginning now to understand
+_what_ bound you to him, and unfortunately I must admit that, with the
+knowledge, my guilt increases. My justification lay only in the
+misunderstanding of what now forces itself upon me as an undeniable
+fact--that Freyer was not so unworthy of you, Madeleine, as I
+believed!" He read the inscription on the little bank book: "To keep
+the graves of my dear ones!" and was silent for a time as if something
+choked his utterance: "How he must have suffered--! When I think how
+_I_ love you, though you have never been mine--and he once called you
+his--resigned you and went away, with death in his heart! Oh, you
+women! Madeleine, how could you do this in cold blood? If it had been
+for love of me--but that illusion vanished long ago."
+
+"Condemned--condemned by you!" moaned the countess in terror.
+
+"I do not condemn you, Madeleine, I only marvel that you could do it,
+if you knew the man as he is."
+
+"I did not know him in this guise," said the countess proudly. "But--I
+will not be less honest than you, Duke, I am not sure that I could have
+done it, had I known him as I do _now_."
+
+The duke passed his handkerchief across his brow, which was already
+somewhat bald. "One thing is certain--we owe the man some reparation.
+Something must be done."
+
+"What shall we do? He will refuse anything we offer--though it were
+myself. That is evident from the burgomaster's letter." She closed her
+eyes to keep back the tears. "All is vain--he can never forgive me."
+
+"No, he certainly cannot do that. But the man is worthy of having us
+fulfill the only wish he has expressed to you--"
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"To defer our marriage until the first anguish of his grief has had
+time to pass away."
+
+The countess drew a long breath, as if relieved of a heavy burden:
+"Duke, that is generous and noble!"
+
+"If you had been legally wedded and were obliged to be legally
+divorced, we could not be united in less than a year. Let us show the
+poor man the honor of regarding him as your lawfully wedded husband and
+pay him the same consideration as if he were. That is all we can do for
+him at present, and I shall make it a point of honor to atone, by this
+sacrifice, in some degree for the heavy responsibility which is
+undeniably mine and which, as an honest man, I neither can nor desire
+to conceal from myself."
+
+He went to her and held out his hand. "I see by your radiant eyes,
+Countess, that this does not cost you the sacrifice which it does me--I
+will not pretend to be more unselfish than I am, for I hope by means of
+it to gain in your esteem what I lose in happiness by this time of
+delay!"
+
+He kissed her hand with a sorrowful expression which she had never seen
+in him before. "Permit me to take leave of you for to-day, I have an
+engagement with Prince Hohenheim. To-morrow we will discuss the matter
+farther. _Bon soir_!"
+
+The countess was alone. An engagement with Prince Hohenheim! When had
+an engagement with any one taken precedence--of her? Duke Emil was
+using pretexts. She could not deceive herself, he was--not really cold,
+but chilled. What a terrible reproach to her! What neither time, nor
+any of her great or trivial errors had accomplished, what had not
+happened even when she preferred a poor low-born man to the rich
+noble--occurred now, when she rejected the former--for the latter.
+
+Many a person does not realize the strength of his own moral power, and
+how it will baffle the most crafty calculation. Every tragical result
+of a sin is merely the vengeance of these moral forces, which the
+criminal had undervalued when he planned the deed. This was the case
+with the duke. He had advised a breach with Freyer--advised it with the
+unselfish intention of saving her, but when the countess followed his
+advice and he saw by Freyer's conduct _what_ a heart she had broken, he
+could not instantly love the woman who had been cruel enough to do an
+act which he could not pardon himself for having counselled.
+
+Madeleine Wildenau suspected this, though not to its full extent. The
+duke was far too chivalrous to think for a moment of breaking his
+plighted troth, or letting her believe that he repented it. But the
+delay which he proposed as an atonement to the man whom they had
+injured, said enough. Must _all_ abandon her--every bridge on which she
+stepped break? Had she lost by her act even the man of whom she was
+sure--surer than of anything else in the world! How terrible then this
+deed must have been! Madeleine von Wildenau blushed for herself.
+
+Yet as there are certain traits in feminine nature which are the last a
+woman gives up, she now hated Freyer, hated him from a spirit of
+contradiction to the duke, who espoused his cause. And as the feminine
+nature desires above all things else that which is denied, she now
+longed to bind the duke again because she felt the danger of losing
+him. The fugitive must be stopped--the sport might perhaps lend her
+charmless, wretched life a certain interest. An unsatisfactory one, it
+is true, for even if she won him again--what then? What would she have
+in him? Could he be anything more to her than a pleasant companion
+who would restore her lost power and position? She glanced at her
+mirror--it showed her a woman of thirty-eight, rouged to seem ten years
+younger--but beneath this rouge were haggard cheeks. She could not
+conceal from herself that art would not suffice much longer--she
+had faded--her life was drawing toward evening, age spared no one!
+But--when she no longer possessed youth and beauty, when the time came
+that only the moral value of existence remained, what would she have
+then? To what could she look back--in what find satisfaction, peace?
+Society? It was always the same, with its good and evil qualities. To
+one who entered into an ethical relation with it, it contained besides
+its apparent superficiality boundless treasures and resources. "The
+snow is hard enough to bear," people say in the mountains when, in the
+early Spring, the loose masses have melted into a firm crust. Thus,
+under the various streams, now cold, now warm, the surface of society
+melts and forms that smooth icy rind of form over which the light-foot
+glides carelessly, unconscious that beneath the thin surface are hidden
+depths in which the philosopher and psychologist find material enough
+for the study of a whole life. But when everything which could serve
+the purposes of amusement was exhausted, the countess' interest in
+society also failed. Once before she had felt a loathing for it, when
+she was younger than now--how would it be when she was an old woman?
+The arts? Already their spell had been broken and she had fled to
+Nature, because she could no longer believe in their beautiful lies.
+
+The sciences? They were least suited to afford pleasure! Had she not
+grown so weary of her amateur toying with their serious investigations
+that she fled, longing for a revelation, to the childish miracles of
+Oberammergau? Aye--she was again, after the lapse of ten years,
+standing in the selfsame spot, seeking her God as in the days when she
+fancied she had found His footprints. The trace proved delusive, and
+must she now begin again where ten years before she ended in weariness
+and discontent? Must she, who imagined that she had embraced the true
+essence, return to searching, doubting? No, the flower cannot go back
+into the closed bud; the feeling which caused the disappointment
+impelled onward to truth! Love for God had once unfolded, and though
+the object proved deceptive--the _feeling_ was true, and struggled to
+find its goal as persistently as the flower seeks the sun after it has
+long vanished behind clouds. But had she missed her way because she
+thought she had reached the _goal_ too _soon_? She had followed the
+trace no longer, but left it in anger--discouragement, at the first
+disappointment! What if the path which led her to Ammergau was the
+_right_ one? And the guide along it _had_ been sent by God? What if she
+had turned from the path because it was too long and toilsome, rejected
+the guide because he did not instantly bring God near to her impatient
+heart, and she must henceforth wander aimlessly without consolation or
+hope? And when the day of final settlement came, what imperishable
+goods would she possess? When the hour arrived which no mortal can
+escape, what could aid her in the last terror, save the consciousness
+of dwelling in the love of God, of going out of love to love--out of
+longing to fulfillment? She had rejected love, she had turned back in
+the path of longing and contented herself with earthly joys--and when
+she left the world she would have nothing, for the soul which does not
+seek, will not find! A life which has not fulfilled its moral task is
+not _finished_, only _broken off_, death to it is merely _destruction_,
+not _completion_.
+
+The miserable woman flung herself down before the mirror which showed
+her the transitoriness of everything earthly and, for the first time in
+her life, looked the last question in the face and read no answer
+save--despair.
+
+"Help my weakness, oh God!" she pleaded. "Help me upward to Thee. Show
+me the way--send me an angel, or write Thy will on the border of the
+clouds, work a miracle, oh Lord, for a despairing soul!" Thus she
+awaited the announcement of the divine will in flaming characters and
+angel tongues--and did not notice that a poor little banished household
+sprite was standing beside her, gazing beseechingly at her with tearful
+eyes because it had the word which would aid her, the watchword which
+she could find nowhere--only a simple phrase: _the fulfillment of
+duty!_ Yet because it was as simple and unassuming as the genius which
+brought it, it remained unheeded by the proud, vain woman who, in her
+arrogance, spite of the humiliations she had endured, imagined that her
+salvation needed a messenger from Heaven of apocalyptic form and power.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+                               MEMORIES.
+
+
+Amid conflicts such as those just described, the countess lived,
+passing from one stage of development to another and unconsciously
+growing older--mentally maturing. Several weeks had now passed since
+her parting with Freyer, but the apathy with which, from that hour, she
+had regarded all external things still remained. She left the duke to
+arrange the affair with the Wildenaus, which, a short time ago, she had
+considered of sufficient importance to sacrifice Freyer. She admired
+the duke's tact and cleverness, but it seemed as if he were not acting
+for her but for some other person.
+
+When he brought the news that the Wildenaus, owing to the obstinacy of
+the witness Martin, had given up their plan of a legal prosecution on
+the ground of Josepha's deposition, and were ready for an amicable
+settlement--she did not rejoice over anything save the old servant's
+fidelity; everything else she accepted as a just recompense of fate in
+return for an _unwarrantably_ high price she had paid.
+
+She was not annoyed because obliged to pay those whom she had injured a
+sum so large as considerably to lessen her income. She did not care for
+the result; her father was now a dying man and the vast sums he had
+used were again at her disposal. After all--what did it matter? If she
+married the duke in a year, she would be obliged to give up the whole
+property! But--need she marry him, if the Wildenaus could prove nothing
+against her? She sank into a dull reverie. But when the duke mentioned
+the cousins' desire for the little hunting-castle, life suddenly woke
+in her again. "Never, never!" she cried, while a burning blush
+crimsoned her face: "Rather all my possessions than that!" A flood of
+tears suddenly dissolved her unnatural torpor.
+
+"But, dearest Madeleine, you will never live there again!" said the
+duke consolingly.
+
+"No--neither I nor any living mortal will enter it again; but,
+Duke--must I say it? There sleeps my child; there sleeps the dream of
+my heart--it is the mausoleum of my love! No, leave me that--no
+stranger's foot must desecrate it! I will do anything, will give
+the Wildenaus twice, thrice as much; they may choose any of my
+estates--only not that one, and even if I marry you, when I must resign
+everything, I will ask you to buy it from my cousins, and you will not
+refuse my first request?"
+
+The prince gazed at her long and earnestly; for the first time a ray of
+the old love shone in his eyes. "Do you know that I have never seen you
+so beautiful as at this moment? Now your own soul looks out from your
+eyes! Now I absolve you from everything. Forgive me--I was mistaken in
+you, but this impulse teaches me that you are still yourself. It does
+me good!"
+
+"Oh, Duke! There is little merit, when the living was not allowed his
+rightful place--to secure it to the dead!"
+
+"Well, it is at least an act of atonement. Madeleine, there cannot be
+more joy in Heaven over the sinner who repents than I felt just now at
+your words. Yes, my poor friend, you shall keep the scene of your
+happiness and your grief untouched--I will assure you of it, and will
+arrange it with the Wildenaus."
+
+"Duke! Oh, you are the best, the noblest of men!" she exclaimed,
+smiling through her tears: "Do you know that I love you as I never did
+before? I thought it perfectly natural that you could not love me as
+you saw me during those days. I felt it, though you did not intend to
+let me see it."
+
+She had not meant to assume it, but these words expressed the charming
+artlessness which had formerly rendered her so irresistible, and the
+longer the duke had missed it, the less he was armed against the spell.
+
+"Madeleine!" he held out his arms--and she--did she know how it
+happened? Was it gratitude, the wish to make at least _one_ person
+happy? She threw herself on his breast--for the first time he held her
+in his embrace. Surely she was his betrothed bride! But she had not
+thought of what happened now. The duke's lips sought hers--she could
+not resist like a girl of sixteen, he would have considered it foolish
+coquetry. So she was forced to submit.
+
+"_Honi soit qui mal y pense!_" he murmured, kissing her brow, her
+hair--and her lips. But when she felt his lips press hers, it suddenly
+seemed as though some one was saying dose beside her: "_You!_" It was
+the word Freyer always uttered when he embraced her, as though he knew
+of nothing better or higher than that one word, in which he expressed
+the whole strength of his emotion! "You--you!" echoed constantly in her
+ears with that sweet, wild fervor which seemed to threaten: "the next
+instant you will be consumed in my ardor." Again he stood before her
+with his dark flaming eyes and the overwhelming earnestness of a mighty
+passion, which shadowed his pale brow as the approaching thunder-storm
+clouded the snow-clad peaks of his mountains. And she compared it with
+the light, easy tenderness, the "_honi soi qui mal y pense_" of the
+trained squire of dames who was pressing his first kiss upon her
+lips--and she loathed the stranger. She released herself with a sudden
+movement, approached the window and looked out. As she gazed, she
+fancied she saw the dark figure of the deserted one, illumined by the
+crimson glare of the forest conflagration, holding out his hand with a
+divinely royal gesture to raise and shelter her on his breast. Once
+more she beheld him gaze calmly down at the charred timber and heard
+him say smiling: "The wood was mine."
+
+Then--then she beheld in the distant East a sultry room, shaded by gay
+awnings, surrounded by rustling palm-trees, palm-trees, which drew
+their sustenance from the soil on which the Redeemer's blood once
+flowed. He sat beside the bed of the mother of a new-born child,
+whispering sweet, earnest words--and the mother was she herself, the
+babe was his.
+
+Then she beheld this same man kneeling by the coffin of a child, the
+rigid, death-white face buried under his raven locks. It was the child
+born on the consecrated soil of the burning East, which she had left to
+pine in the cold breath of the Western winter. She withdrew from it the
+mother-heart, in which the tender plant of the South might have gained
+warmth. She had left that father's child to die.
+
+Yet he did not complain; uttered no reproach--he remained silent.
+
+She saw him become more and more solitary and silent. The manly beauty
+wasted, his strength failed--at last she saw him noiselessly cross
+the carpeted floor of this very room and close the door behind him
+never to return! No, no, it could not be--all that had happened was
+false--nothing was true save that he was the father of her child, her
+husband, and no one else could ever be that, even though she was
+separated from him for ever.
+
+"Duke!" she cried, imploringly. "Leave me to myself. I do not
+understand my own feelings--I feel as if arraigned before the judgment
+seat of God. Let me take counsel with my own heart--forgive me I am a
+variable, capricious woman--one mood to-day and another to-morrow; have
+patience with me, I entreat you."
+
+The duke looked gravely at her, and answered, nodding: "I
+understand--or rather--I am afraid to understand!"
+
+"Duke, I am not suited to marry. Let the elderly woman go her way
+alone--I believe I can never again be happy. I long only for rest and
+solitude."
+
+"You need rest and composure. I will give you time and wait your
+decision, which can now be absolutely untrammelled, since your business
+affairs are settled and the peril is over."
+
+"Do not be angry with me, Duke--and do not misunderstand me--oh
+Heaven--you might think that I had only given my promise in the dread
+of poverty and disgrace and now that the peril was past, repented."
+
+The duke hesitated a moment. Then he said in a low, firm tone: "Surely
+you know that I am the man of sober reason, who is surprised by
+nothing. '_Tout comprendre c'est tout pardonner_.' So act without
+regard to me, as your own feeling dictates." He held out his hand:
+"There was a time when I seriously believed that we might be happy
+together. That is now past--you will destroy no illusion, if you assert
+the contrary."
+
+"Perhaps not even a sincere desire of the heart?" replied the countess,
+smiling.
+
+The duke became deeply earnest. "That suggestion is out of place
+here.--Am I to wound you from gallantry and increase the measure of
+your self-reproaches by showing you that I suffer? Or tell a falsehood
+to lessen your responsibility? We will let all that rest. If you want
+me, send for me. Meanwhile, as your faithful attorney, I will arrange
+the matter of the hunting castle."
+
+"Duke--how petty I am in your presence--how noble you are!"
+
+"That is saying far too much, Countess! I am content, if you can bear
+me witness that at least I have not made myself ridiculous." He left
+the room--cold, courteous, stoical as ever!
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau hurried to the window and flung it open. "Pour
+in, light and air, mighty consolers--ah, now I breathe, I live again!"
+
+Once more she could freely show her face, had no occasion to conceal
+herself. The danger of a "scandal" was over, thanks to the lack of
+proof. She need no longer shun the Wildenaus--old Martin was faithful
+and her husband, the most dangerous witness, had gone, disappeared. Now
+she had nothing more to dread; she was free, mistress of her fortune,
+mistress of her will, she breathed once more as if new-born.
+
+Liberty, yes, _this_ was happiness. She believed that she had found it
+at last! And she would enjoy it. She need not reproach herself for
+breaking her troth to the prince, he had told her so--if thereby she
+could appease the avenging spirits of her deed to Freyer, they must
+have the sacrifice! True, to be reigning duchess of a country was a
+lofty position; but--could she purchase it at the cost of being the
+wife of a man whom she did not love? Why not? Was she a child?--a
+foolish girl? A crown was at stake--and should she allow sentimental
+scruples to force her to sacrifice it to the memory of an irrevocably
+lost happiness?
+
+She shook her head, as if she wanted to shake off a bandage. She was
+ill from the long days spent in darkness and confinement like a
+criminal. That was the cause of these whims. Up and out into the open
+air, where she would again find healthy blood and healthy thoughts.
+
+She rang the bell, a new servant appeared.
+
+"My arrival can now be announced. Tell Martin to bring the carriage
+round, I will go to drive."
+
+"Very well, Your Highness."
+
+She seemed to have escaped from a ban. She had never known liberty.
+Until she married the Count von Wildenau she had been under the control
+of a governess. Then, in her marriage with the self-willed old man she
+was a slave, and she had scarcely been a widow ere she forged new
+fetters for herself. Now, for the first time, she could taste liberty.
+The decision was not pressing. The cool stoic who had waited so long
+would not lose patience at the last moment--so she could still do what
+she would.
+
+So the heart, struggling against the unloved husband, deceived the
+ambitious, calculating reason which aspired to a crown.
+
+The carriage drove up. It was delightful to hear a pair of spirited
+horses stamping before a handsome equipage, to be assisted to enter by
+a liveried servant and to be able to say: "This is yours once more!"
+The only shadow which disturbed her was that on Martin's face, a shadow
+resting there since she had last visited her castle of the Sleeping
+Beauty. She well knew for whom the old man was grieving. It was a
+perpetual reproach and she avoided talking with him, from a certain
+sense of diffidence. She could justify herself to the keen intelligence
+of the duke--to the simplicity of this plain man she could not; she
+felt it.
+
+It was a delightful May evening. A sea of warm air and spring perfumes
+surrounded her, and crowds thronged the streets, enjoying the evening,
+after their toilsome work, as if they had just waked from their winter
+sleep. On the corners groups paused before huge placards which they
+eagerly studied, one pushing another away. What could it be?
+
+Then old Martin, as if intentionally, drove close to the sidewalk,
+where the people stood in line out to the street before those posters.
+There was a little movement in the throng; people turned to look at the
+splendid equipage, thus leaving the placard exposed. The countess read
+it--the blood congealed in her veins--there, in large letters, stood
+the words: "Oberammergau Passion Play." What did it mean? She leaned
+back in the carriage, feeling as if she must shriek aloud with
+homesickness, with agonized longing for those vanished days of a great
+blissful delusion! Again she beheld the marvellous play. Again the
+divine sufferer appeared to the world--the mere name on that wretched
+placard was already exerting its spell, for the pedestrians, pausing on
+their errands, stopped before it by hundreds, as if they had never read
+the words "Passion Play" before! And the man who helped create this
+miracle, to which a world was again devoutly pilgrimaging, had been
+clasped in her arms--had loved her, been loyally devoted to her, to her
+alone, and she had disdained him! Now he was again bringing the
+salvation of the divine word and miracle--she alone was shut out, she
+had forfeited it by her own fault. She was--as in his wonderful gift of
+divination he had once said--one of the foolish virgins who had burned
+her oil, and now the heavenly bridegroom was coming, but she stood
+alone in the darkness while the others were revelling at the banquet.
+
+The rattle of wheels and the trampling of the crowds about her were
+deafening, and it was fortunate, for, in the confused uproar, the cry
+which escaped the tortured heart of the proud lady in the coroneted
+carriage died away unheard. Lilacs and roses--why do you send forth so
+intoxicating a fragrance, why do you still bloom? Can you have the
+heart to smile at a world in which there is such anguish? But lilacs,
+roses, and a beautiful May-sun laughed on, the world was devoutly
+preparing for the great pilgrimage to Oberammergau. She only was
+exiled, and returned to her stone palace, alone, hopeless--with
+infinite desolation in her heart.
+
+A note from the duke awaited her. He took his leave for a few weeks, in
+order to give her time to understand her own heart clearly. Now she was
+utterly alone.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+                          THE MEASURE IS FULL.
+
+
+From that day the countess showed an unwonted degree of interest in the
+newspapers. The first question when she waked in the morning was for
+the papers. But the maid noticed that she opened only the pages
+containing the reports from Oberammergau.
+
+"Your Highness seems to be very much interested in the Passion Play,"
+the woman ventured to remark.
+
+The countess blushed, and her "yes" was so curt and repellent that the
+maid was alarmed at her own presumption.
+
+One thing, however, was certain--her mistress, after reading these
+reports, always looked pale and worn.
+
+And in truth the unhappy woman, while reading the descriptions of this
+year's performances, felt as if she were drinking a cup of wormwood
+drop by drop. Freyer's name was echoing throughout the world. Not only
+did the daily press occupy itself with him--but grave men, aesthetes of
+high rank, found his acting so interesting that they wrote pamphlets
+about it and made it the subject of scientific treatises. The countess
+read them all. Freyer was described as the type in which art, nature,
+and religion joined hands in the utmost harmony! "As he himself stands
+above the laws of theatrical routine, he raises us far above what we
+term stage effect, as it were into a loftier sphere. He does not
+act--he is the Christ! The power of his glance, the spirituality of the
+whole figure, and an indefinable spell of the noblest sorrow which
+pervades his whole person, are things which cannot be counterfeited,
+which are no play, but truth. We believe what he says, because we feel
+that this man's soul does not belong to this world, that its own
+individual life has entered into his part. Because he thinks, feels,
+and lives not as Joseph Freyer, but as the Christus--is the source of
+the impression which borders upon the supernatural."
+
+Madeleine von Wildenau had just read these words, which cut her to the
+heart. Ah, when strangers--critics--men said such things--surely she
+had no cause to be ashamed. Who would reproach her, a weak,
+enthusiastic woman, for yielding to this spell? Surely no one--rather
+she would be blamed for not having arrested the charm, for having, with
+a profane hand, destroyed the marvel that approached her, favoring her
+above the thousands who gazed at it in devout reverence!
+
+She leaned her head on her hand and gazed mournfully out of the window
+at which she sat. They had now been playing six weeks in Oberammergau.
+It was June. The gardens of the opposite palace were in their fullest
+leafage; and the birds singing in the trees lured her out. Her eyes
+followed a little swallow flying toward the mountains. "Oh, mountain
+air and blue gentians--earthly Paradise!" she sighed! What was she
+doing here in the hot city when all were flying to the mountains, she
+saw no society, and the duke had gone away. She, too, ought to have
+left long before. But where should she go? She could not visit
+Oberammergau, and she cared for no other spot--it seemed as though the
+whole world contained no other place of abode than this one village
+with its gay little houses and low windows--as if in all the world
+there were no mountains, and no mountain air save in Ammergau. A few
+burning tears ran down her cheeks. Doubtless there was mountain air,
+there were mountain peaks higher, more beautiful than in Ammergau, but
+nowhere else could be found the same capacity for enjoying the
+magnificence of nature! Everywhere there is a church, a religion, but
+nowhere so religious an atmosphere as there.
+
+"Oh, my lost Paradise, my soul greets you with all the anguish of the
+exiled mother of my sex and my sin!" she sighed.
+
+And yet, what was Eve's sin to hers? Eve at least atoned in love and
+faith with the man whom she tempted to sin. Therefore God could forgive
+her and send to the race which sprung from her fall a messenger of
+reconciliation. Eve was a wife and a mother. But she, what was she? Not
+even that! She had abandoned her husband and lived in splendor and
+luxury while he grieved alone. She had given him only one child, and
+even to that had acted no mother's part, and finally had thrust him out
+into poverty and sorrow, and led a life of wealth and leisure, while he
+earned his bread by the sweat of his brow. No, the mother of sin was a
+martyr compared to her, a martyr to the nature which _she_ denied, and
+therefore she was shut out from the bond of peace and pity which Eve's
+atonement secured.
+
+Some one knocked. The countess started from her reverie. The servant
+announced that His Highness' nurses had sent for her; they thought
+death was near.
+
+"I will come at once!" she answered.
+
+The prince lived near the Wildenau Palace, and she reached him in a few
+minutes.
+
+The sick man's mind was clearer than it had been for several months.
+The watery effusions in the brain which had clouded his consciousness
+had been temporarily absorbed, and he could control his thoughts. For
+the first time he held out his hand to his daughter: "Are you there, my
+child?"
+
+It touched her strangely, and she knelt by his side. "Yes, father!"
+
+He stroked her hair with a kindly, though dull expression: "Are you
+well?"
+
+"In body, yes papa! I thank you."
+
+"Are you happy?"
+
+The countess, who had never in her life perceived any token of paternal
+affection in his manner, was deeply moved by this first sign of
+affection in the hour of parting. She strove to find some soothing
+reply which would not be false and yet satisfy his feeble reasoning
+powers; but he had again forgotten the question.
+
+"Are you married?" he asked again, as if he had been absent a long
+time, and saw his daughter to-day for the first time.
+
+The nurses withdrew into the next room.
+
+The father and daughter were alone. Meantime his memory seemed to be
+following some clue.
+
+"Where is your husband?"
+
+"Which one?" asked the countess, greatly agitated. "Wildenau?"
+
+"No, no--the--the other one; let him come!" He put out his hand
+gropingly, as if he expected some one to clasp it: "Say farewell--"
+
+"Father," sobbed the countess, laying the seeking hand gently back on
+the coverlet. "He cannot bid you farewell, he is not here!"
+
+"Why not? I should have been glad to see him--son-in-law--grandson--no
+one here?"
+
+"Father--poor father!" The countess could say no mare. Laying her head
+on the side of her father's bed, she wept bitterly.
+
+"Hm, hm!" murmured the invalid, and a glance of intelligence suddenly
+flashed from his dull eyes at his daughter. "My child, are you
+weeping?" He reflected a short time, then his mind seemed to grow clear
+again.
+
+"Oh, yes. No one must know! Foolish weaknesses! Tell him I sincerely
+ask his pardon; he must forgive me. Prejudiced, old--! I am very sorry.
+Can't you send for him?"
+
+"Oh, papa, I would gladly bring him, but it is too late--he has gone
+away!"
+
+"Ah! then I shall not see him again. I am near my end."
+
+The countess could not speak, but pressed her lips to her father's cold
+hand.
+
+"Don't grieve; you will lose nothing in me; be happy. I spent a great
+deal of money for you--women, gaming, dinners, what value are they
+all?" He made a gesture of loathing: "What are they now?"
+
+A chill ran through his veins, and his breath grew short and labored.
+"I'm curious to see how it looks up there!" He pondered for a time. "If
+you knew of any sensible pastor, you might send for him; such men often
+_do_ know something."
+
+"Certainly, father!"
+
+The countess hurried into the next room and ordered a priest to be sent
+for to give extreme unction.
+
+"You wish to confess and take the communion too, do you not, papa?"
+
+"Why yes; one doesn't wish to take the old rubbish when starting on the
+great journey. We don't carry our soiled linen with us when we travel.
+I have much on my conscience, Magdalena--my child--most of all, sins
+committed against you! Don't bear your foolish old father ill-will for
+it."
+
+"No, father, I swear it by the memory of this hour!"
+
+"And your husband"--he shook his head--"he is not here; it's a pity!"
+
+Then he said no more but lay quietly, absorbed in his own thoughts,
+till the priest came.
+
+Madeleine withdrew during the confession. What was passing in her mind
+during that hour she herself could not understand. She only knew that
+her father's inquiry in his dying hour for his despised, disowned
+son-in-law was the keenest reproach which had been addressed to her.
+
+The sacred ceremony was over, and the priest had left the house.
+
+The sick man lay with a calm, pleasant expression on his face, which
+had never rested there before. Madeleine sat down by the bed and took
+his hand; he gratefully returned her gentle pressure.
+
+"How do you feel, dear father?" she asked gently.
+
+"Very comfortable, dear child."
+
+"Have you made your peace with God?"
+
+"I hope so, my child! So far as He will be gracious to an old sinner
+like me." He raised his eyes with an earnest, trustful look, then a
+long--agonizing death struggle came on. But he held his daughter's hand
+firmly in his own, and she spent the whole night at his bedside without
+stirring, resolute and faithful--the first fulfillment of duty in her
+whole life.
+
+The struggle continued until the next noon ere the daughter could close
+her father's eyes. A number of pressing business matters were now to be
+arranged, which detained her in the house of mourning until the
+evening, and made her sorely miss her thoughtful friend, the duke. At
+last, at nine o'clock, she returned to her palace, wearied almost unto
+death.
+
+The footman handed her a card: "The gentleman has been here twice
+to-day and wished to see Your Highness on very urgent business. He was
+going to leave by the last train, but decided to stay in order to see
+you. He will try again after nine o'clock--"
+
+The countess carried the card to the gas jet and read: "Ludwig Gross,
+drawing-teacher." Her hand trembled so violently that she almost
+dropped it. "When the gentleman comes, admit him!" She was obliged to
+cling to the balustrade as she went upstairs, she was so giddy.
+Scarcely had she reached her boudoir when she heard the lower bell
+ring--then footsteps, a familiar voice--some one knocked as he had done
+ten years ago in the Gross House; but the man whom he then brought,
+nothing would ever bring again.
+
+She did not speak, her voice failed, but she opened the door
+herself--Ludwig Gross stood before her. Both gazed at each other a long
+time in silence. Both were struggling for composure and for words, and
+from the cheeks of both every drop of blood had vanished. The countess
+held out her hand, but he did not seem to see it. She pointed to a
+chair, and said in a hollow tone: "Sit down," at the same time sinking
+upon a divan opposite.
+
+"I will not disturb you long, Your Highness!" Ludwig answered, seating
+himself a long distance off.
+
+"If you disturbed me, I should not have received you."
+
+Ludwig felt the reproof conveyed in the words for the hostility of his
+manner, but he could not help it.
+
+"Perhaps Your Highness remembers a certain Freyer?"
+
+"Herr Gross, that question is an insult, but I admit that, from your
+standpoint, you have a right to ask it. At any rate, Freyer did not
+commission you to do so."
+
+"No, Countess, for he does not know that I am here; if he did, he would
+have prevented it. I beg your pardon, if I perform my mission somewhat
+clumsily! I know it is unseemly to meddle with relations of which one
+is ignorant, for Freyer's reserve allowed me no insight into these. But
+here there is danger in delay, and where a human life is at stake,
+every other consideration must be silent. I have never been able to
+learn any particulars from Freyer. I only know that he was away nine
+years, as it was rumored, with you, and that he returned a beggar!"
+
+"That, Herr Gross, is no fault of mine."
+
+"Not that, Countess, but it must be _your_ fault alone which has caused
+relations so unnatural that Freyer was ashamed to accept from you even
+the well-earned payment for his labor."
+
+"You are right there, Herr Gross."
+
+"And that would be the least, Countess, but he has returned, not only a
+beggar, but a lost man."
+
+"Ludwig!"
+
+"Yes, Countess. That is the reason I determined, after consulting with
+the burgomaster, to come here and talk with you, if you will allow it."
+
+"Speak, for Heaven's sake; what has befallen him?"
+
+"Freyer is ill, Countess."
+
+"But, how can that be? He is acting the Christus every week and
+delighting the world?"
+
+"Yes, that is just it! He acts, as a candle burns down while it
+shines--it is no longer the phosphorescence of genius, it is a light
+which feeds on his own life and consumes it."
+
+"Merciful God!"
+
+"And he _wishes_ to die--that is unmistakable--that is why it is so
+hard to aid him. He will heed no counsel, follow no advice of the
+physician, do nothing which might benefit him. Now matters have gone so
+far that the doctor told us yesterday he might fall dead upon the stage
+at any hour--and we ought not to allow him to go on playing! But he
+cannot be prevented. He desires nothing more than death."
+
+"What is the matter?" asked the pale lips of the countess.
+
+"A severe case of heart disease, Countess, which might be arrested for
+several years by means of careful nursing, perfect rest, and
+strengthening food; but he has no means to obtain the better
+nourishment his condition requires, because he is too proud to be a
+burden on any one, and he lacks the ease of mind necessary to relieve
+his heart. Nursing is out of the question--he occupies, having given
+his own home to the poor when he left Ammergau, as you know, a
+miserable, damp room in a wretched tavern, just outside the village,
+and wanders about the mountains day and night. Of course speedy death
+is inevitable--hastened, moreover, by the exertions demanded by his
+part."
+
+Ludwig Gross rose. "I do not know how you estimate the value of a poor
+man's life, Countess," he said bitterly--"I have merely done my duty by
+informing you of my friend's condition. The rest I must leave to you."
+
+"Great Heaven! What shall I do! He rejects everything I offer. Perhaps
+you do not know that I gave him a fortune and he refused it."
+
+Ludwig Gross fixed an annihilating glance upon her. "If you know no
+other way of rendering aid here save by _money_--I have nothing more to
+say."
+
+He bowed slightly and left the room without waiting for an answer.
+
+"Ludwig!" she called: "Hear me!"
+
+He had gone--he was right--did she deserve anything better? No--no! She
+stood in the middle of the room a moment as if dazed. Her heart
+throbbed almost to bursting. "Has it gone so far! I have left the man
+from whose lips I drew the last breath of life to starve and languish.
+I allowed the heart on which I have so often rested to pine within
+dark, gloomy walls, bleed and break in silent suffering. Murderess, did
+you hear it? He is lost, through your sin! Oh, God, where is the crime
+which I have not committed--where is there a more miserable creature? I
+have murdered the most innocent, misunderstood the noblest, repulsed
+the most faithful, abused the most sacred, and for what?" She sank
+prostrate. The measure was full--was running over.--The angel with the
+cup of wormwood had overtaken her, as Freyer had prophesied and was
+holding to her lips the bitter chalice of her own guilt, which she must
+drain, drop by drop. But now this guilt had matured, grown to its full
+size, and stood before her, grinning at her with the jeer of madness.
+
+"Wings--oh, God, lend me wings! While I am doubting and despairing
+here--it may be too late--the terrible thing may have happened--he may
+have died, unreconciled, with the awful reproach in his heart! Wings,
+wings, oh God!" She started up and flew to the bell with the speed of
+thought. "Send for the head-groom at once!" Then she hurried into the
+chamber, where the maid was arranging her garments for the night. "Pack
+as quickly as possible whatever I shall need for a journey of two or
+three days--or weeks--I don't know myself."
+
+"Evening or street costumes?" asked the maid, startled by her mistress'
+appearance. "Street dresses!"
+
+Meantime the head-groom had come. She hastened into the boudoir: "Have
+relays of horses saddled and sent forward at once--it is after ten
+o'clock--there is no train to Weilheim--but I must reach Oberammergau
+to-night! Martin is to drive, send on four relays--I will give you four
+hours start--the men must be off within ten minutes--I will go at two
+o'clock--I shall arrive there at seven."
+
+"Your Excellency, that is scarcely possible"--the man ventured to say.
+
+"I did not ask whether it was possible--I told you that it _must_ be
+done, if it kills all my horses. Quick, rouse the whole stable--every
+one must help. I shall wait at the window until I see the men ride
+away."
+
+The man bowed silently, he knew that opposition was futile, but he
+muttered under his breath: "To ruin six of her best horses in one
+night--just for the sake of that man in Ammergau, she ought to be put
+under guardianship."
+
+The courtyard was instantly astir, men were shouting and running to and
+fro. The stable-doors were thrown open, lanterns flashed hither and
+thither, the trampling and neighing of horses were heard, the noise and
+haste seemed as if the wild huntsman was setting off on his terrible
+ride through the starless night.
+
+The countess stood, watch in hand, at the lighted window, and the
+figure of their mistress above spurred every one to the utmost haste.
+In a few minutes the horses for the relays were saddled and the grooms
+rode out of the courtyard.
+
+"The victoria with the pair of blacks must be ready at two," the
+head-groom said to old Martin. "You must keep a sharp look-out--I don't
+see how you will manage--those fiery creatures in that light carriage."
+
+The countess heard it at the window, but she paid no heed. If only she
+could fly there with the light carriage, the fiery horses, as her heart
+desired. Forward--was her only thought.
+
+"Must I go, too?" asked the maid, pale with fright.
+
+"No, I shall need no one." The countess now shut the windows and went
+to her writing-desk, for there was much to be done within the few short
+hours. Her father's funeral--sending the announcements--all these
+things must now be entrusted to others and a representative must be
+found among the relatives to fill her own place. She assigned as a
+pretext the necessity of taking a short journey for a day or two,
+adding that she did not yet know whether she could return in time for
+the funeral of the prince. Her pen fairly flew over the paper, and she
+finally wrote a brief note to the duke, in which she told him nothing
+except her father's death. The four hours slipped rapidly away, and as
+the clock struck two the victoria drove to the door.
+
+The countess was already standing there. The lamps at the entrance
+shone brightly, but even brighter was old Martin's face, as he curbed
+the spirited animals with a firm hand.
+
+"To Ammergau, Martin!" said the countess significantly, as she entered
+the equipage.
+
+"Hi! But I'll drive now!" cried the old man, joyously, not suspecting
+the sorrowful state of affairs, and off dashed the steeds as though
+spurred by their mistress' fears--while guilt and remorse accompanied
+her with the heavy flight of destiny.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+                        ON THE WAY TO THE CROSS.
+
+
+It was Sunday. Again the throngs surged around the Passion Theatre,
+more devout, more numerous than ever.
+
+Slowly, as if his feet could scarcely support him, a tall figure,
+strangely like one who no longer belongs to the number of the living,
+tottered through the crowd to the door of the dressing-room, while all
+reverently made way for him, yet every one perceived that it must be
+the Christus! Whoever met his eye shuddered as if the incarnation of
+woe had passed, as if he had seen the face of the god of sorrow.
+
+Eight o'clock had struck, the cannon had announced the commencement of
+the play, the waiting throng pressed in, crowding each other, and the
+doors were closed.
+
+Outside of the theatre it was silent and empty. The carriages had
+driven away. The people who could get no tickets had dispersed. Only
+the venders of photographs and eatables still sat in their booths,
+listening idly and sleepily to the notes of the music, which came in
+subdued tones through the board partition.
+
+Suddenly the ground trembled slightly under the wheels of a carriage
+driven at furious speed. A pair of horses covered with foam appeared in
+the distance--in a few seconds a dusty victoria stopped before the
+Passion Theatre.
+
+"St, st!" said one of the box-tenders, appearing at the top of the
+stairs and hurrying down to prevent farther disturbance.
+
+"Can I get a ticket?" asked the lady in the carriage.
+
+"I am very sorry--but unfortunately every seat is filled."
+
+"Oh, Heaven! I lost an hour--one of the horses met with an accident, I
+have driven all night--I beg you--I _must_ get in!"
+
+The box-tender shrugged his shoulders. "Unfortunately it is
+impossible!" he said with an offensively lofty manner.
+
+"I am not accustomed to find anything which I desire impossible, so far
+as it depends upon human beings to fulfill it," she answered haughtily.
+"I will pay any price, no matter whether it is a thousand marks, more
+or less--if you will get me even the poorest seat within the walls."
+
+"It is not a question of price!" was the smiling answer. "If we had the
+smallest space, we could have disposed of it a hundred times over
+to-day."
+
+"Then take me on the stage."
+
+"Oh, it is no use to speak of that--no matter who might come--no one is
+allowed there."
+
+"Then announce me to the burgomaster--I will give you my card."
+
+"I am very sorry, but I have no admittance to the stage during the
+performance. In the long intermission at twelve o'clock you might be
+announced, but not before."
+
+The countess' heart throbbed faster and faster. She could hear the
+notes of the music, she fancied she could distinguish the different
+voices, yet she was not permitted to enter. Now came the shouts of
+"Hosanna!"--yes, distinctly--that was the entry into Jerusalem, those
+were the exulting throngs who attended him. If she could only look
+through a chink--! Now, now it was still--then a voice--oh! she would
+recognize those tones among thousands. A draught of air bore them to
+her through the cracks in the walls. Yes, that was he; a tremor ran
+through every limb--he was speaking.
+
+The world hung on his lips, joy was in every eye, comfort in every
+heart--within was salvation and she must stand without and could not go
+to her own husband. But he was not her husband, that had been her own
+wish. Now it was granted!
+
+The "foolish virgin" outside the door burst into tears like a child.
+
+The man who had just refused her request so coldly, pitied her: "If I
+only knew how to help you, I would do so gladly," he said thoughtfully.
+"I'll tell you! If it is so important come during the intermission, but
+on _foot_, without attracting attention, to the rear entrance of the
+stage--then I'll try to smuggle you in, even if it is only into the
+passage for the chorus!"
+
+"Oh, sir, I thank you!" said the countess with the look which a lost
+soul might give to the angel who opened the gates of Paradise.
+
+"I will be there punctually at twelve. Don't you think I might speak to
+Herr Freyer during the intermission?" she asked timidly.
+
+A smile of sorrowful pity flitted over the man's face. "Oh, he speaks
+to no one. We are rejoiced every time that he is able to get through
+the performance."
+
+"Alas! is he so ill?"
+
+"Yes," replied the man in a tone very low as if he feared the very air
+might hear, "very ill."
+
+Then he went up the stairs again to his post.
+
+"Where shall we drive now?" asked Martin.
+
+The countess was obliged to reflect a short time ere she answered. "I
+think it would be best--to try to find a lodging somewhere--" she said
+hesitatingly, still listening to the sounds from the theatre to learn
+what was passing within, what scene they were playing--who was
+speaking? "Drive slowly, Martin--" she begged. She was in no hurry now:
+"Stop!" she called as Martin started; she had just heard a voice that
+sounded like _his_! Martin made the horses move very slowly as he drove
+on. Thus, at the most tardy pace, they passed around the Passion
+Theatre and then in the opposite direction toward the village. At the
+exit from the square an official notification was posted: "No Monday
+performances will be given hereafter; Herr Freyer's health will not
+permit him to play two days in succession."
+
+The countess pressed her clasped hands upon her quivering heart. "Bear
+it--it must be borne--it is your own fault, now suffer!"
+
+A stranger in a private carriage, who was looking for lodgings on the
+day everybody else was going away, was a welcome apparition in the
+village. At every house to which she drove the occupants who remained
+in it hastened to welcome her, but none of the rooms pleased her. For a
+moment she thought of going to the drawing-master's, but there also the
+quarters were too low and narrow--and she could not deceive herself,
+the tie between her and Ludwig Gross was sundered--he could not forgive
+what she had done to his friend; she avoided him as though he were her
+judge. And besides--she wanted quiet rooms, where an invalid could
+rest, and these were not easy to find now.
+
+At last she discovered them. A plain house, surrounded by foliage, in a
+secluded street, which had only two rooms on the ground floor, where
+they could live wholly unseen and unheard. They were plain apartments,
+but the ceilings were not too low, and the sunbeams shone through the
+chinks of the green shutters with a warm, yet subdued light. A
+peaceful, cheerful shelter.
+
+She hired them for an indefinite time, and quickly made an agreement
+with the elderly woman to whom they belonged. There was a little
+kitchen also, and the woman was willing to do the cooking. So for the
+next few days at least she had a comfortable home, and now would to
+Heaven that she might not occupy it in despair.
+
+"Well, now Your Highness is nicely settled," said old Martin, when the
+housewife opened the shutters, and he glanced down from his box into
+the pretty room: "I should like such a little home myself."
+
+The countess ordered the luggage to be brought in.
+
+"Where shall I put up, Your Highness?"
+
+"Go to the old post-house, Martin!"
+
+"Shan't I take you to the Passion Theatre?"
+
+"No, you heard that I must walk there." Martin shook his head--this
+seemed to him almost too humiliating to his proud mistress. But he did
+not venture to make any comment, and drove off, pondering over his own
+thoughts.
+
+It was nine o'clock. Three hours before the long intermission. What
+might not happen during that time? Could she wait, would not anxiety
+kill her or rob her of her senses? But nothing could be done, she
+_must_ wait. She could not hasten the hour on which depended life and
+death, deliverance or doom.--The nocturnal ride, the fright occasioned
+by the fiery horses which had upset the carriage and forced her to walk
+to the next relay and thus lose a precious hour, her agitation beside
+her father's sick bed, now asserted themselves, and she lay down on one
+of the neat white beds in the room and used the time to rest and
+recover her strength a little. She was only a feeble woman, and the
+valiant spirit which had so long created its own law and battled for
+it, was too powerful for a woman's feeble frame. It was fortunate that
+she was compelled to take this rest, or she would have succumbed. A
+restless slumber took possession of her at intervals, from which she
+started to look at the clock and mournfully convince herself that not
+more than five minutes had elapsed.
+
+The old woman brought in a cup of coffee, which she pressed upon her.
+No food had passed her lips since the day before, and the warm drink
+somewhat revived her. But the rapid throbbing of her heart soon
+prevented her remaining in bed, and rising, she busied herself a little
+in unpacking--the first time in her life that she had ever performed
+such work. She remembered how she had wept ten years ago in the Gross
+house, because she was left without a maid.
+
+At last the time of torture was over. The clock struck quarter to
+twelve. She put on her hat, though it was still far too early, but she
+could not bear to stay in the room. She wished at least to be near the
+theatre. When she reached the door her breath failed, and she was
+obliged to stop and calm herself. Then, summoning all her courage, she
+raised her eyes to Heaven, and murmuring: "In God's name," went to meet
+the terrible uncertainty.
+
+Now she repented that she did not use the carriage--she could scarcely
+move. It seemed at every step as if she were sinking into the earth
+instead of advancing, as if she should never reach the goal, as if the
+road stretched longer and longer before her. A burning noonday sun
+blazed down upon her head, the perspiration stood on her forehead
+and her lips were parched, her feet were swollen and lame from the
+night-watch at her father's bedside and the exhausting journey which
+had followed it. At last, with much effort she reached the theatre. The
+first part of the performance was just over--throngs of people were
+pouring out of the sultry atmosphere into the open air and hurrying to
+get their dinners. But every face wore a look of the deepest emotion
+and sorrow--on every lip was the one word: "Freyer!" The countess stole
+through the throngs like a criminal, holding her sunshade lower and
+drawing her veil more closely over her face. Only let her escape
+recognition now, avoid meeting any one who would speak to her--this was
+her mortal dread. If she could only render herself invisible! With the
+utmost exertion she forced her way through, and now she could at least
+take breath after the stifling pressure. But everything around her
+was now so bare, she was so exposed as she crossed the broad open
+space--she felt as though she were the target for every curious eye
+among the spectators. She clenched her teeth in her embarrassment--it
+was fairly running the gauntlet. She could no longer think or feel
+anything except a desire that the earth would swallow her. At last,
+tottering, trembling, almost overcome by heat and haste, she reached
+the welcome shade on the northern side of the theatre and stopped, this
+was her goal. Leaning against the wall, she half concealed herself
+behind a post at the door. Women carrying baskets passed her; they were
+admitted because they were bringing their husbands' food. They glanced
+curiously at the dusty stranger leaning wearily behind the door. "Who
+can she be? Somebody who isn't quite right, that's certain!" The
+tortured woman read this query on every face. Here, too, she was in a
+pillory. Oh, power and rank--before the wooden fence surrounding the
+great drama of Christian thought, you crumble and are nothing save what
+you are in and through love!
+
+The Countess Wildenau waited humbly at the door of the Passion Theatre
+until the compassionate box-opener should come to admit her.
+
+How long she stood there she did not know. Burning drops fell from brow
+and eyes, but she endured it like a suffering penitent. This was _her_
+way to the cross.
+
+The clock struck one. The flood was surging back from the village: "Oh,
+God, save me!" she prayed, trembling; her agony had reached its height.
+But now the man could not come until everyone was seated.
+
+And Freyer, what was he doing in his dressing-room, which she knew he
+never left during an intermission? Was he resting or eating some
+strengthening food? Probably one of the women who passed had taken him
+something? She envied the poor women with their baskets because they
+were permitted to do their duty.
+
+Then--she scarcely dared to believe it--the box-opener came running
+out.
+
+"I've kept you waiting a long time, haven't I? But every one has had
+his hands full. Now come quick!"
+
+He slipped stealthily forward, beckoning to her to follow, and led her
+through by-ways and dark corners, often concealing her with his own
+person when anyone approached. The signal for raising the curtain was
+given just as they reached a hidden corner in the proscenium, where the
+chorus entered. "Sit down there on the stool," he whispered. "You can't
+see much, it is true, but you can hear everything. It's not a good
+place, yet it's better than nothing."
+
+"Certainly!" replied the countess, breathlessly; she could not see,
+coming from the bright sunshine into the dusky space; she sank half
+fainting on the stool to which he pointed; she was on the stage of the
+Passion, near Freyer! True, she said to herself, that he must not be
+permitted to suspect it, lest he should be unable to finish his task;
+but at least she was near him--her fate was approaching its
+fulfillment.
+
+"You have done me a priceless service; I thank you." She pressed a bank
+note into the man's hand.
+
+"No, no; I did it gladly," he answered, noiselessly retreating.
+
+The exhausted woman closed her eyes and rested a few minutes from the
+torture she had endured. The chorus entered, and opened the drama
+again, a tableau followed, then the High Priest and Annas appeared in
+the balcony of his house, Judas soon entered, but everything passed
+before her like a dream. She could not see what was occurring on her
+side of the stage.
+
+Thus lost in thought, she leaned back in her dark corner, forgetting
+the present in what the next hours would bring, failing to hear even
+the hosannas. But now a voice startled her from her torpor.--"I
+spake openly to the world; I ever taught in the synagogue and in the
+temple--"
+
+Merciful Heaven, it was he! She could not see him, the side scenes
+concealed him; but what a feeling! His voice, which had so often
+spoken to her words of love, entreaty, warning, lastly of wrath and
+despair--without heed from her, without waking an echo in her cold
+heart, now pealed like an angel's message into the dark corner
+where she sat concealed like a lost soul that had forfeited the sight
+of the Redeemer! She listened eagerly to the marvellous tones of the
+words no longer addressed to her while the speaker's face remained
+concealed--the face on which, in mortal dread, she might have read the
+runes engraved by pain, and learned whether they meant life or death?
+And yet, at least she was near him; so near that she thought he must
+hear the throbbing of her own heart.
+
+"Bear patiently; do not disturb him in his sacred fulfillment of duty.
+It will soon be over!"
+
+The play seemed endlessly long to her impatient heart. Christ was
+dragged from trial to trial. The mockery, the scourging, the
+condemnation--the tortured woman shared them all with him as she had
+done the first time, but to-day it was like a blind person. She had not
+yet succeeded in seeing him, he always stood so that she could never
+catch a glimpse of his face. Would he hold out? She fancied that his
+voice grew weaker hour by hour. And she dared not tend him, dared not
+offer him any strengthening drink, dared not wipe the moisture from his
+brow. She heard the audience weeping and sobbing--the scene of bearing
+the cross was at hand!
+
+The sky had darkened, and heavy sultry clouds hung low, forming natural
+soffits to the open front stage, as if Heaven desired to conceal it
+from the curious gods, that they might not see what was passing to-day.
+
+Mary and John--the women of Jerusalem and Simon of Cyrene assembled,
+waiting in anxious suspense for the coming of the Christ. Anastasia was
+again personating Mary, the countess instantly recognized her pure,
+clear tones, and the meeting in the fields ten years before came back
+to her mind--not without a throb of jealous emotion. Now a movement
+among the audience announced the approach of the procession--of the
+cross! This time the actors came from the opposite direction and upon
+the front stage. Every vein in her body was throbbing, her brain
+whirled, she struggled to maintain her composure; at last she was to
+see him for the first time!
+
+"It is he, oh God!--it is my son!" cried Mary. Christ stepped upon the
+stage, laden with the cross. It was acting no longer, it was reality.
+
+His feet could scarcely support him under the burden, panting for
+breath, he dragged himself to the proscenium. The countess uttered a
+low cry of alarm; she fancied that she was looking into the eyes of a
+dying man, so ghastly was his appearance. But he had heard the
+exclamation and, raising his head, looked at her, his emaciated face
+quivered--he tottered, fell--he _was obliged_ to fall; it was in his
+part.
+
+The countess shuddered--it was too natural!
+
+"He can go no farther," said the executioner. "Here, strengthen
+yourself." The captain handed him the flask, but he did not take it.
+"You won't drink? Then drive him forward."
+
+The executioners shook him roughly, but Freyer did not stir--he _ought_
+not to move yet.
+
+Simon of Cyrene took the cross on his shoulders, and now the
+Christ should have risen, but he still lay prostrate. The cue was
+given--repeated--a pause followed--a few of the calmer ones began to
+improvise, the man who was personating; the executioner stooped and
+shook him, another tried to raise him--in vain. An uneasy movement ran
+through the audience--the actors gathered around and gazed at him. "He
+is dead! It has come upon us!" ran in accents of horror from lip to
+lip.
+
+An indescribable confusion followed. The audience rose tumultuously
+from the seats. Caiaphas, the burgomaster, ordered in a low tone: "To
+the central stage--every one! Quick--and then drop the curtain!" But no
+one heard him: He bent over the senseless figure. "It is only an attack
+of faintness," he called to the audience, but the excitement could no
+longer be allayed--all were pressing across the orchestra to the stage.
+
+The countess could bear it no longer--rank and station, the
+thousands of curious eyes to which she would expose herself were all
+forgotten--there is a cosmopolitanism which unites mortals in a common
+brotherhood more closely than anything else--a mutual sorrow.
+
+"Freyer, Freyer!" she shrieked in tones that thrilled every nerve of
+the bystanders: "Do not die--oh, do not die!" Rushing upon the stage,
+she threw herself on her knees beside the unconscious form.
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen--I must beg you to clear the stage"--shouted
+Caiaphas to the throng, and turning to the countess, whom he
+recognized, added: "Countess Wildenau--I can permit no stranger to
+enter, I _must_ beg you to withdraw."
+
+She drew herself up to her full height, composed and lofty--an
+indescribable dignity pervaded her whole bearing: "I have a right to be
+here--I am his wife!"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+                          STATIONS OF SORROW.
+
+
+"I am his wife!" Heaven and earth have heard it. She had conquered. The
+tremendous deed, fear of which had led her to the verge of crime--love
+had now done in a _single_ moment without conflict or delay. There was
+joy in heaven and on earth over the penitent sinner! And all the
+viewless powers which watch the way to the cross, wherever any human
+being treads it; all the angels, the guardian spirits of the now
+interrupted Play hastened to aid the new Magdalene, that she might
+climb the Mount of Calvary to the Hill of Golgotha. And as if the
+heavenly hosts were rushing down to accompany this bearer of the cross
+a gust of wind suddenly swept through the open space across the stage
+and over the audience, and the palms rustled in the breeze, the palaces
+of Jerusalem tottered, and the painted curtains swayed in the air. This
+one gust of wind had rent the threatening clouds so that the sun sent
+down a slanting brilliant ray like the dawn of light when chaos began
+to disappear!
+
+A light rain which, in the golden streaks, glittered like dusty pearls
+fell, settling the dust and dispelling the sultriness of the parched
+earth.
+
+Silence had fallen upon the people on the stage and in the audience,
+and as a scorched flower thirstily expands to the cooling dew, the sick
+man's lips parted and eagerly inhaled the damp, refreshing air.
+
+"Oh--he lives!" said the countess in a tone as sweet as any mother ever
+murmured at the bedside of a child whom she had believed dead, any
+bride on the breast of her wounded lover.
+
+[Illustration: "_I have a right to be here--I am his wife!_"]
+
+"He lives, oh, he lives!" all the spectators repeated.
+
+Meanwhile the physician had come and examined the sufferer, who had
+been placed on a couch formed of cloaks and shawls: "It is a severe
+attack of heart disease. The patient must be taken to better lodgings
+than he has hitherto occupied. This condition needs the most careful
+nursing to avoid the danger. I have repeatedly called attention to it,
+but always in vain."
+
+"It will be different now, Doctor!" said the countess. "I have already
+secured rooms, and beg to be allowed to move him there."
+
+"The Countess!" she suddenly heard a voice exclaim behind her--and when
+she glanced around, Ludwig Gross stood before her in speechless
+amazement.
+
+"Can it be? I have just arrived by the train from Munich--but I did not
+see--"
+
+"I suppose so--I drove here last night. But do not call me Countess any
+longer, Herr Gross--my name is Magdalena Freyer." The drawing-master
+made no reply, but knelt beside the sick man, who was beginning to
+breathe faintly and bent over him a long time: "If only it is not too
+late!" he muttered bitterly, still unappeased.
+
+The burgomaster approached the countess and held out his hand, gazing
+into her eyes with deep emotion. "Such an act can never be too late.
+Even if it can no longer benefit the individual, it is still a
+contribution to the moral treasure of the world," he said consolingly.
+
+"I thank you. You are very kind!" she answered, tears springing to her
+eyes.
+
+A litter had now been obtained and the physician ordered the sufferer
+to be lifted gently and laid upon it: "We will first take him to the
+dressing-room, and give him some food before carrying him home."
+
+The countess had mentioned the street: "It is some little distance to
+the house."
+
+The command was obeyed and the litter was carried to the dressing-room.
+The friends followed with the countess. On the way a woman timidly
+joined her and gazed at her with large, sparkling eyes: "I don't know
+whether you remember me? I only wanted to tell you how glad I am that
+you are here? Oh, how well he has deserved it!"
+
+"Mary!" said the countess, shamed and overpowered by the charm of this
+most unselfish soul, clasping both her hands: "Mary--Mother of God!"
+And her head sank on her companion's virgin breast Anastasia passed her
+arm affectionately around her and supported her as they moved on.
+
+"Yes, we two must hold together, like Mary and Magdalene! We will aid
+each other--it is very hard, but our two saints had no easier lot. And
+if I can help in any way--" They had reached the dressing-room, the
+group paused, the countess pressed Anastasia's hand: "Yes, we will hold
+together, Mary!" Then she hastened to her husband's side--but the
+doctor motioned to her to keep at a distance that the sudden sight of
+her might not harm the sick man when he recovered his consciousness. He
+felt his pulse: "Scarcely fifty beats--I must give an injection of
+ether."
+
+He drew the little apparatus from his pocket, thrust the needle into
+Freyer's arm and injected a little of the stimulating fluid. The
+bystanders awaited the result in breathless suspense: "Bring wine,
+eggs, bouillon, anything you can get--only something strong, which will
+increase the action of the heart."
+
+The drawing-master hurried off. The pastor, who had just heard of the
+occurrence, now entered: "Is the sacrament to be administered?" he
+asked.
+
+"No, there is no fear of so speedy an end," the physician answered.
+"Rest is the most imperative necessity." The burgomaster led the pastor
+to the countess: "This is Herr Freyer's wife, who has just publicly
+acknowledged her marriage," he said in a low tone: "Countess Wildenau!"
+
+"Ah, ah--these are certainly remarkable events. Well, I can only hope
+that God will reward such love," the priest replied with delicate tact:
+"You have made a great sacrifice, Countess."
+
+"Oh, if you knew--" she paused. "Hark--he is recovering his
+consciousness!" She clasped her hands and bent forward to listen--"may
+God help us now."
+
+"How do you feel, Herr Freyer?" asked the doctor.
+
+"Tolerably well, Doctor! Are you weeping, Mary? Did I frighten you?" He
+beckoned to her and she hastened to his side.
+
+The countess' eyes grew dim as he whispered something to Anastasia.
+
+This was the torture of the damned--Mary might be near him, his
+first glance, his first words were hers, while she, his wife, stood
+banished, at a distance! And she had made him suffer this torture for
+years--without compassion. "Oh, God, Thou art just, and Thy scales
+weigh exactly!" But the all-wise Father does not only punish--He also
+shows mercy.
+
+"Where is she?" Anastasia repeated his words in a clear, joyous tone:
+"You thought you saw her in the passage through which the chorus
+passed. Oh, you must have been mistaken!" she added at a sign from the
+physician.
+
+"Yes, you are right, how could she be there--it is impossible."
+
+The countess tried to move forward, but the physician authoritatively
+stopped her.
+
+The burgomaster gently approached him. "My dear Freyer--what could I do
+for you, have you no wish?"
+
+"Nothing except to die! I would willingly have played until the end of
+the performances--for your sake--but I am content."
+
+The drawing-master brought in the food which the physician had ordered.
+
+The latter went to him with a glass of champagne. "Drink this, Herr
+Freyer; it will do you good, and then you can eat something."
+
+But the sick man did not touch the glass: "Oh, no, I will take nothing
+more."
+
+"Why not? You must eat something, or you will not recover."
+
+"I cannot"
+
+"Certainly you can."
+
+"Very well, I _will_ not."
+
+"Freyer," cried Ludwig beseechingly, "don't be obstinate--what fancy
+have you taken into your head?" And he again vainly offered the
+strengthening draught.
+
+"Shall I live if I drink it?" asked Freyer.
+
+"Certainly,"
+
+"Then I will not take it."
+
+"Not even if I entreat you, Freyer?" asked the burgomaster.
+
+"Oh, do not torture me--do not force me to live longer!" pleaded Freyer
+with a heart-rending expression. "If you knew what I have suffered--you
+would not grudge the release which God now sends me! I have vowed to be
+faithful to my duty until death--did I not, sexton, on Daisenberger's
+grave? I have held out as long as I could--now let me die quietly."
+
+"Oh, my friend!" said the sexton, "must we lose you?" The strong man
+was weeping like a child. "Live for _us_, if not for yourself."
+
+"No, sexton, if God calls me, I must not linger--for I have still
+another duty. I have _lived_ for you--I must _die_ for another."
+
+"But, Herr Freyer!" said the pastor kindly, "suppose that this other
+person should not be benefitted by your death?"
+
+Freyer looked as if he did not understand him.
+
+"If this other of whom you speak--had come--to nurse and stay with
+you?" the pastor continued.
+
+Freyer raised himself a little--a blissful presentiment flitted over
+his face like the coming of dawn.
+
+"Suppose that your eyes did _not_ deceive you?" the burgomaster now
+added gently.
+
+"Am I not dreaming--was it true--was it possible?"
+
+"If you don't excite yourself and will keep perfectly calm," said the
+physician, "I will bring--your wife!"
+
+"My--wife? You are driving me mad. I have no wife."
+
+"No wife--you have _no wife_?" cried a voice as if from the depths of
+an ocean of love and anguish, as the unhappy woman who had forced her
+own husband to disown her, sank sobbing before him.
+
+A cry--"my dove!" and his head drooped on her breast
+
+A breathless silence pervaded the room. Every one's hands were clasped
+in silent prayer. No one knew whether the moment was fraught with life
+or death.
+
+But it was to bring life--for the Christus must not die on the way to
+the cross, and Mary Magdalene must still climb to its foot--the last,
+steepest portion--that her destiny might be fulfilled.
+
+The husband and wife were whispering together. The others modestly drew
+back.
+
+"And you wish to die? It was not enough that you vanished from my life
+like a shadow--you wish to go out of the world also?" she sobbed. "Do
+you believe that I could then find rest on earth or in Heaven?"
+
+"Oh, dear one, I am happy. Let me die--I have prayed for it always! God
+has mercifully granted it. When I am out of the world you will be a
+widow, and can marry another without committing a sin."
+
+"Oh, Heaven--Joseph! I will marry no other--I love no one save you."
+
+He smiled mournfully: "You love me now because I am dying--had I lived,
+you would have gone onward in the path of sin--and been lost. No, my
+child, I must die, that you may learn, by my little sacrifice, to
+understand the great atonement of Christ. I must sacrifice myself for
+you, as Christ sacrificed himself for the sins of mankind."
+
+"Oh, that is not needed. God has taken the will for the deed, and given
+it the same power. Your lofty, patient suffering has conquered me. You
+need not die. I mistook you for what you were not--a God, and did not
+perceive what you _were_. Now I do know it. Forgive my folly. To save
+me you need be nothing save a man--a genuine, noble, lovable man, as
+you are--then no God will be required."
+
+"Do you believe that?" Freyer looked at her with a divine expression:
+"Do you believe you could be content with a _mortal man_! No, my child,
+the same disappointment would follow as before. The flame that blazes
+within your soul does not feed upon earthly matter. You need a God, and
+your great heart will not rest until you have found Him. Therefore be
+comforted: The false Christ will vanish and the true one will rise from
+His grave."
+
+"No, do not wrong me so, do not die, let me not atone for my sin to the
+dead, but to the living! Oh, do not be cruel--do not punish me so
+harshly. You are silent! You are growing paler still! Ah, you will go
+and leave me standing _alone_ half way along the road, unable either to
+move forward or back! Joseph, I have broken every bond with the duke,
+have cast aside everything which separated us--have become a poor,
+helpless woman, and you will abandon me--now, when I have given you my
+whole existence, when I am nothing but your wife."
+
+Freyer raised himself.
+
+"Give me the wine--now I long to live." A universal movement of delight
+ran through the group of friends, and the countess held the foaming cup
+to his lips and supported his head with one hand, that he might drink.
+Then she gave him a little food and arranged him in a more comfortable
+position. "Come, let your wife nurse you!" she said so tenderly that
+all the listeners were touched. Then she laid a cooling bandage on his
+brow. "Ah, that does me good!" he said, but his eyes rested steadily on
+hers and he seemed to be alluding to something other than the external
+remedies, though these quickly produced their effect. His breathing
+gradually became more regular, his eyes closed, weakness asserted
+itself, but he slept soundly and quietly.
+
+The physician withdrew to soothe the strangers waiting outside by an
+encouraging report. Only Freyer's friends and the pastor remained. The
+countess rose from beside the sleeper's couch and stretched her arms
+towards Heaven: "Lend him to me, Merciful God! I have forfeited my
+right to him--I say it in the presence of all these witnesses--but
+be merciful and lend him to me long enough for me to atone for my
+sin--that I may not be doomed to the torture of eternal remorse!" She
+spoke in a low tone in order not to rouse the slumberer, but in a voice
+which could be distinctly heard by the others. Her hands were clasped
+convulsively, her eyes were raised as if to pierce to the presence of
+God--her noble bearing expressed the energy of despair, striving with
+eternity for the space of a moment.
+
+"Oh, God--oh, God, leave him with me! Hold back Thy avenging
+hand--grant a respite. Omnipotent One, first witness my
+atonement--first try whether I may not be saved by mercy! Friends,
+friends, pray with me!"
+
+She clasped their hands as if imploring help. Her strength was failing.
+Trembling, she sank beside Ludwig, and pressed her forehead, bedewed
+with cold perspiration, against his arm.
+
+All bared their heads and prayed in a low tone. Madeleine's breast
+heaved in mortal anguish and, almost stifled by her suppressed tears,
+she could only falter, half unconsciously: "Have pity upon us!"
+
+Meanwhile the doctor had made all necessary preparations and was
+waiting for the patient to wake in order to remove him to his home.
+
+The murmured prayers had ceased and the friends gathered silently
+around the bed. The countess again knelt beside the invalid, clasping
+him in a gentle embrace. Her tears were now checked lest she might
+disturb him, but they continued to flow in her heart. Her lips rested
+on his hand in a long kiss--the hand which had once supported and
+guided her now lay pale and thin on the coverlet, as if it would never
+more have strength to clasp hers with a loving pressure.
+
+"Are you weeping, dear wife?"
+
+That voice! She raised her head, but could not meet the eyes which
+gazed at her so tenderly. Dared _she_, the condemned one, enjoy the
+bliss of that look? No, never! And, without raising an eyelash, she hid
+her guilty brow with unutterable tenderness upon his breast. The feeble
+hand was raised and gently stroked her cheek, touching it as lightly as
+a withered leaf.
+
+"Do not weep!" he whispered with the voice of a consoling angel: "Be
+calm--God is good, He will be merciful to us also."
+
+Oh, trumpet of the Judgment Day, what is thy blare to the sinner,
+compared to the gentle words of pardoning love from a wounded breast?
+
+The countess was overpowered by the mild, merciful judgment.--
+
+A living lane had formed in front of the theatre. He was to be carried
+home, rumor said, and the people were waiting in a dense throng to see
+him. At last a movement ran through the ranks. "He is coming! Is he
+alive? Yes, they say he is!"
+
+Slowly and carefully the men bore out the litter on which he lay, pale
+and motionless as a dead man. The pastor walked on one side, and on the
+other, steadying his head, the countess. She could scarcely walk, but
+she did not avert her eyes from him.
+
+As on the way to Golgotha, low sobs greeted the little procession. "Oh,
+dear, poor fellow! Ah, just one look, one touch of the hand," the
+people pleaded. "Wait just one moment."
+
+As if by a single impulse the bearers halted and the people pressed
+forward with throbbing hearts, modestly, reverently touching the
+hanging coverlet, and gazing at him with tearful eyes full of
+unutterable grief.
+
+The countess, with a beautiful impulse of humanity, gently drew his
+hand from under the wraps and held it to the sorrowing spectators who
+had waited so long, that they might kiss it--and every one who could
+get near enough eagerly drank from the proffered beaker of love.
+Grateful eyes followed the countess and she felt their benediction with
+the joy of the saints when God lends their acts the power of divine
+grace. She was now a beggar, yet never before had she been rich enough
+to bestow such alms: "Yes, kiss his hand--he deserves it!" she
+whispered, and her eyes beamed with a love which was not of this earth,
+yet which blended _her_, the world, and everything it contained into a
+single, vast, fraternal community!
+
+Freyer smiled at her--and now she bore the sweet, tender gaze, for she
+felt as if a time might come when she would again deserve it.
+
+At last they reached the pretty quiet house where she had that morning
+hired lodgings for him and herself. Mourning love had followed him to
+the spot, the throng had increased so that the bearers could scarcely
+get in with the litter. "Farewell--poor sufferer, may God be with you,"
+fell from every lip as he was borne in and the door closed behind him.
+
+The spacious room on the lower floor received the invalid. The landlady
+had hurriedly prepared the bed and he was laid in it. As the soft
+pillows arranged by careful hands yielded to the weary form, and his
+wife bent over him, supporting his head on her arm--he glanced joyously
+around the circle, unable to think or say anything except: "Oh, how
+comfortable I am!" They turned away to hide their emotion.
+
+The countess laid her head on the pillow beside him, no longer
+restraining her tears, and murmuring in his ear: "Angel, you modest,
+forgiving, loving angel!" She was silent--forcing herself to repress
+the language of her heart, for the cry of her remorse might disturb the
+feeble invalid. Yet he felt what moved her, he had always read her
+inmost soul so long as she loved him--not until strangers came between
+them did he fail to comprehend her. Now he felt what she must suffer in
+her remorse and pitied her torture, he thought only of how he might
+console her. But this moved her more than all the reproaches he had a
+right to make, for the greater, the more noble his nature revealed
+itself to be the greater her guilt became!
+
+The friends were to take turns in helping the countess watch the
+invalid through the night, and now left him. The doctor said that there
+was no immediate danger and went away to get more medicines. When all
+had gone, she knelt beside the bed and said softly, "Now I am yours! I
+do not ask whether you will forgive me, for I see that you have already
+done so--I ask only whether you will again take the condemned,
+sin-laden woman to your heart? In my deed today I chose the fate of
+poverty. I can offer you nothing more in worldly wealth, I can only
+provide you with a simple home, work for you, nurse you, and atone by
+lifelong love and fidelity for the wrong I have done you. Will you be
+content with that?"
+
+Freyer drew her toward him with all his feeble strength. Tears of
+unutterable happiness were trickling down his cheeks. "I thank Thee,
+God, Thou has given her to me to-day for the first time! Come, my
+wife--place your fate trustfully in God's hands and your dear heart in
+mine, and all will be well. He will be merciful and suffer me to live a
+few years that I may work for you, not you for me. Oh, blissful words,
+work for my wife, they make me well again. And now, while we are alone,
+the first sacred kiss of conjugal love!"
+
+He tried to raise his head, but she pressed it with gentle violence
+back upon the pillow. "No, you must keep perfectly quiet. Imagine that
+you are a marble statue--and let me kiss you. Remain cold and let all
+the fervor of a repentant, loving heart pour itself upon you." She
+stooped and touched his pale mouth gently, almost timidly, with her
+quivering lips.
+
+"Oh, that was again an angel's kiss!" he murmured, clasping his hands
+over the head bowed in penitent humility.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XL.
+
+                             NEAR THE GOAL.
+
+
+From that hour Magdalena Freyer never left her husband's bedside.
+Though friends came in turn to share the night-watches, she remained
+with them. After a few days the doctor said that unless an attack of
+weakness supervened, the danger was over for the present, though he did
+not conceal from her that the disease was incurable. She clasped her
+hands and answered: "I will consider every day that I am permitted to
+keep him a boon, and submissively accept what God sends."
+
+After that time she always showed her husband a smiling face, and
+he--perfectly aware of his condition--practiced the same loving
+deception toward her. Thus they continued to live in the salutary
+school of the most rigid self-control--she, bearing with dignity a sad
+fate for which she herself was to blame--he in the happiness of that
+passive heroism of Christianity, which goes with a smile to meet death
+for others! An atmosphere of cheerfulness surrounded this sick-bed,
+which can be understood only by one who has watched for months beside
+the couch of incurable disease, and felt the gratitude with which every
+delay of the catastrophe, every apparent improvement is greeted--the
+quiet delight afforded by every little relief given the beloved
+sufferer, every smile which shows us he feels somewhat easier.
+
+This cup of anguish the penitent woman now drained to the dregs. True,
+a friendly genius always stood beside it to comfort her: the hope that,
+though not fully recovered, he might still be spared to her. "How many
+thousands who have heart disease, with care and nursing live to grow
+old." This thought sustained her. Yet the ceaseless anxiety and
+sleepless nights exhausted her strength. Her cheeks grew hollow, dark
+circles surrounded her eyes, but she did not heed it.
+
+"I still please my husband!" she said smiling, in reply to all
+entreaties to spare herself on account of her altered appearance.
+
+"My dove!" Freyer said one evening, when Ludwig came for the
+night-watch: "Now I must show a husband's authority and command you to
+take some rest, you cannot go on in this way."
+
+"Oh! never mind me--if I should die for you, what would it matter?
+Would it not be a just atonement?"
+
+"No--that would be no atonement," he said tenderly, pushing back the
+light fringe of curls that shaded her brow, as if he wished to read her
+thoughts on it: "My child, you must _live_ for me--that is your
+atonement. Do you think you would do anything good if you expiated your
+fault by death and said: 'There you have my life for yours, now we are
+quits, you have no farther claim upon me!' Would that be love, my
+dove?"
+
+He drew her gently toward him: "Or would you prefer that we should be
+quits _thus_, and that I should desire no other expiation from you than
+your death?" She threw her arms around him, clasping him in a closer
+and closer embrace. There was no need of speech, the happy, blissful
+throbbing of her heart gave sufficient answer. He kissed her on the
+forehead: "Now sleep, beloved wife and rest--do it for my sake, that I
+may have a fresh, happy wife!"
+
+She rose as obediently as a child, but it was hard for her, and she
+nodded longingly from the door as if a boundless, hopeless distance
+already divided them.
+
+"Ludwig!" said Freyer, gazing after her in delight: "Ludwig, _is_ this
+love?"
+
+"Yes, by Heaven!" replied his friend, deeply moved: "Happy man, I would
+bear all your sorrows--for one hour like this!"
+
+"Have you now forgiven what she did to me?"
+
+"Yes, from my very soul!"
+
+"Magdalena," cried Freyer. "Come in again--you must know it before you
+sleep--Ludwig is reconciled to you."
+
+"Ludwig," said the countess: "my strict, noble friend, I thank you."
+
+Leading him to the invalid, she placed their hands together. "Now we
+are again united, and everything is just as it was ten years ago--only
+I have become a different person, and a new and higher life is
+beginning for me."
+
+She pressed a kiss upon the brow of her husband and friend, as if to
+seal a vow, then left them alone.
+
+"Oh, Ludwig, if I could see you so happy!"
+
+"Do not be troubled--whoever has experienced this hour with you, needs
+nothing for himself," he answered, an expression of the loftiest, most
+unselfish joy on his pallid face.
+
+The countess, before retiring, sent for Martin who was still in
+Oberammergau, awaiting her orders, and went out into the garden that
+Freyer might not hear them talking in the next room. "Martin," she said
+with quiet dignity, though there was a slight tremor in her voice, "it
+is time for me to give some thought to worldly matters. During the last
+few days I could do nothing but devote myself to the sick bed. Drive
+home, my good Martin, and give the carriage and horses to the
+Wildenaus. Tell them what has happened, if they do not yet know it, I
+cannot write now. Meanwhile, you faithful old servant, tell them to
+take all I have--my jewels, my palace, my whole private fortune. Only I
+should like--for the sake of my sick husband--to have them leave me,
+for humanity's sake, enough to get him what he needs for his recovery!"
+here her voice failed.
+
+"Countess--"
+
+"Oh, don't call me that!"
+
+"Yes--for the countess will always be what she is, even as Herr
+Freyer's wife! I only wanted to say. Your Highness, that I wouldn't do
+that. If I were you, I wouldn't give _them_ a single kind word. I'll
+take back the carriage and horses and say that they can have everything
+which belongs to you. But I won't beg for my Countess! I think it would
+be less disgrace if you should condescend to accept something from a
+plain man like myself, who would consider it an honor and whom you
+needn't thank! I--" he laughed awkwardly: "I only want to say, if you
+won't take offence--that I bargained for a little house to-day. But I
+did it in your name, so that Your Highness needn't be ashamed to live
+with me! I haven't any kith and kin and--and it will belong to you."
+
+"Martin, Martin!" the proud woman humbly bent her head. "Be it so! You
+shall help me, if all else abandons me. I will accept it as a loan from
+you. I can paint--I will try to earn something, perhaps from one of the
+fashion journals, to which I have always subscribed. The maid once told
+me I might earn my living by it--it was a prophecy! So I can, God
+willing, repay you at some future day."
+
+"Oh, we won't talk about that!" cried Martin joyously, kissing the
+countess' hands.
+
+"If I may have a little room under the roof for myself--we'll call it
+the interest. And I have something to spare besides, for--you must eat,
+too."
+
+The countess covered her face with her trembling hands.
+
+"Now I'll drive home and in Your Highness' name throw carriage, horses,
+and all the rest of the rubbish at the Wildenaus' feet--then I'll come
+back and bring something nice for our invalid which can't be had
+here--and my livery, for Sundays and holidays, so that we can make a
+good appearance! And I'll look after the garden and house, and--do
+whatever else you need. Oh, I've never been so happy in my life!"
+
+He left her, and the countess stood gazing after him a long time,
+deeply shamed by the simple fidelity of the old man, who wished to wear
+her livery and be her servant, while he was really her benefactor: In
+truth--high or low--human nature is common to all. Martin returned:
+"Doesn't Your Highness wish to bid farewell to the horses? Shan't I
+drive past, or will it make you feel too badly?"
+
+"Beautiful creatures," a tone of melancholy echoed in her voice as she
+spoke: "No, Martin, I don't want to see them again."
+
+"Yes, yes--!" Martin had understood her, and pitied her more than for
+anything else, for it seemed to him the hardest of sacrifices to part
+with such beautiful horses.
+
+The countess remained alone in the little garden. The stars were
+shining above her head. She thought of the diamond stars which she had
+once flung to Freyer in false atonement, to place in the dead child's
+coffin--if she had them now to use their value to support her sick
+husband--_that_ would be the fitting atonement.
+
+"Only do not let _him_ starve, oh, God! If I were forced to see him
+starve! Oh, God!--spare me that, if it can be!" she prayed, her eyes
+uplifted with anxious care to the glittering star-strewn vault.
+
+"How is he?" a woman's figure suddenly emerged from the shadow at her
+side.
+
+"Oh, Mary--Anastasia!"
+
+"How is he?"
+
+"Better, I think! He was very cheerful this evening!--"
+
+"And you, Frau Freyer--how is it with you? It is hard, is it not? There
+are things to which we must become accustomed."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I can understand. But do not lose confidence--God is always with us.
+And--I will pray to the Virgin Mary, whom I have so often personated!
+But if there is need of anything where _human power_ can aid, I may
+help, may I not?"
+
+"Mary--angel, be my teacher--sister!"
+
+"No, _mother_!" said Anastasia smiling: "For if Freyer is my son, you
+must be my daughter. Oh, you two poor hearts, I am and shall now remain
+your mother, Mary!"
+
+"Mother Mary!"--the countess repeated, and the two women held each
+other in a loving embrace.----
+
+The week was drawing to a close, and the burgomaster was now obliged to
+consider the question of the distribution of parts. He found the
+patient out of bed and wearing a very cheerful, hopeful expression.
+
+"I don't know, Herr Freyer, whether I can venture to discuss my
+important business with you," he began timidly.
+
+"Oh--I understand--you wish to know when I can play again? Next
+Sunday."
+
+"You are not in earnest?" said the burgomaster, almost startled.
+
+"Not in earnest? Herr Burgomaster, what would be the value of all my
+oaths, if I should now retreat like a coward? Do you think I would
+break my word to you a second time, so long as I had breath in my
+body?"
+
+"Certainly not, so long as it is in your power to hold out. But this
+time you _cannot_! Ask the doctor--he will not allow it so soon."
+
+"Am I to ask _him_, when the question concerns the most sacred duty? I
+will consult him about my life--but my duties are more than my life.
+Only thus can I atone for the old sin which ten years ago made me a
+renegade."
+
+"And you say this now--when you are so happy?"
+
+"Herr Burgomaster," replied Freyer with lofty serenity: "A man who has
+once been so happy and so miserable as I, learns to view life from a
+different standpoint! No joy enraptures, no misfortune terrifies him.
+Everything to which we give these names is fluctuating, and only _one_
+happiness is certain: to do one's duty--until death!"
+
+"Herr Freyer! That is a noble thought, but if your wife should hear
+it--would she agree?"
+
+"Surely, for she thinks as I do--if she did not, we should never have
+been united--she would never have cast aside wealth, rank, power, and
+all worldly advantages to live with me in exile. Do you believe she did
+so for any earthly cause? She thinks so--but I know better: The cross
+allured her--as it does all who come in contact with it."
+
+"What are you saying about the cross?" asked the countess, entering the
+room: "Good-morning, Friend Burgomaster!"
+
+"My wife! He will not believe that you would permit me to play the
+Christus again--even should it cost my life?"
+
+The countess turned pale with terror. "Oh, Heaven, are you thinking of
+doing so?"
+
+"Yes"--replied the burgomaster: "He will not be dissuaded from it!"
+
+"Joseph!" said the countess mournfully: "Will you inflict this grief
+upon me--now, when you have scarcely recovered?"
+
+"I assure you that I have played the Christus when I felt far worse
+than I do now--thanks to your self-sacrificing care, dear wife."
+
+Tears filled the countess' eyes, and she remained silent.
+
+"My dove, do we not understand each other?"
+
+"Yes "--she said after a long, silent struggle: "Do it, my beloved
+husband--give yourself to God, as I resign you to Him. He has only
+loaned you to me, I dare not keep you from Him, if He desires to show
+Himself again to the world in your form! I will cherish and tend and
+watch over you, that you may endure it! And when you are taken down
+from the cross, I will rub your strained limbs and bedew your burning
+brow with the tears of all the sorrows Mary and Magdalene suffered for
+the Crucified One, and--when you have rested and again raise your eyes
+to mine with a smile, I will rest your head upon my breast in the
+blissful feeling that you are no God Who will ascend to Heaven--but a
+man, a tender, beloved man, and--_my own_. Oh, God cannot destroy such
+happiness, and if He does, He will only draw you to Himself, that I may
+therefore long the more fervently for you, for Him, Who is the source
+of _all_ love--then--" her voice was stifled by tears as she laid her
+head on his breast--"then your wife will not murmur, but wait silently
+and patiently till she can follow you." Leaning on his breast, she wept
+softly, clasping him in her arms that he might not be torn from her.
+
+"Dear wife," he answered gently, and the wonderfully musical voice
+trembled with the most sacred emotion, "we will accept whatever God
+sends--loyal to the cross--you and I, beloved, high-hearted woman! Do
+not weep, my dove! Being loyal to the cross does not mean only to be
+patient--it means also to be strong! Does not the soldier go bravely to
+death for an earthly king, and should not I joyfully peril my life for
+my _God_?"
+
+"Yes, my husband you are right, I will be strong. Go, then, holy
+warrior, into the battle for the ideal and put yourself at the disposal
+of your brave fellow combatants!" She slowly withdrew her arms from his
+neck as if taking a long, reluctant farewell.
+
+The burgomaster resolutely approached. "We people of Ammergau must bow
+to this sacred zeal. This is indeed a grandeur which conquers death!
+Whoever sees this effect of our modest Play on souls like yours cannot
+be mistaken in believing that the power which works such miracles does
+not emanate from men, and must proceed from a God. But as He is a God
+of love. He will not accept your sacrifice. Freyer must not take the
+part which might cost him his life. We will find a Christus elsewhere
+and thus manage for this time."
+
+Freyer fixed his eyes mournfully on the ground. "Now the crown has
+indeed fallen from my head! God has no longer accepted me--I am shut
+out from the sacred work!"
+
+The burgomaster placed his wife in his arms: "Let it be your task now
+to guard this soul and lead it to its destination--this, too, is a
+sacred work!"
+
+"Yes, and amen!" said Freyer.
+
+                               *   *   *
+
+The ex-countess and the former Christus, both divested of their
+temporary dignity, verified his words, attaining in humility true
+dignity! Freyer rallied under the care of his beloved wife, and they
+used the respite allotted to them by leading a life filled with labor,
+sacrifice, and gratitude toward God.
+
+"You ask me, dear friend," the countess wrote a year later to the Duke
+of Barnheim, "whether you can assist me in any way? I thank you for the
+loyal friendship, but must decline the noble offer. Contentment does
+not depend upon what we have, but what we need, and I have that, for my
+wants are few. This is because I have obtained blessings, which
+formerly I never possessed and which render me independent of
+everything else. Much as God has taken from me. He has bestowed in
+exchange three precious gifts: contempt for the vanities of the world,
+appreciation of the little pleasures of life, and recognition of the
+real worth of human beings. I am not even so poor as you imagine. My
+faithful old Martin, who will never leave me, helped me out of the
+first necessity. Afterwards the Wildenaus' were induced to give up my
+private property, jewels, dresses, and works of art, and their value
+proved sufficient to pay Martin for the little house he had purchased
+for me and to establish for my husband a small shop for the sale of
+wood-carving, so that he need not be dependent upon others. When he
+works industriously--which he is only too anxious to do at the cost of
+his delicate health--we can live without anxiety, though, of course,
+very simply. I know how many of my former acquaintances would shudder
+at the thought of such a prosaic existence! To them I would say that I
+have learned not to seek poetry in life, but to place it there. Yes,
+tell the mocking world that Countess Wildenau lives by her husband's
+labor and is not ashamed of it! My friend! To throw away a fortune for
+love of a woman is nothing--but to toil year in and year out, with
+tireless fidelity and sacrifice, to earn a wife's daily bread in the
+sweat of one's brow, _is_ something! Do you know what it is to a woman
+to owe her life daily to her beloved husband? An indescribable
+happiness! You, my friend, would have bestowed a principality upon me,
+and I should have accepted it as my rightful tribute, without owing you
+any special gratitude--but the hand which _toils_ for me I kiss every
+evening with a thrill of grateful reverence.
+
+"So do not grieve for me! Wed the lovable and charming Princess Amalie
+of whom you wrote, and should you ever come with your young wife into
+the vicinity of the little house surrounded by rustling firs, under the
+shadow of the Kofel, I should be cordially glad to welcome you.
+
+"Farewell! May you be as happy, my noble friend, as you deserve, and
+leave to me my poverty and my _wealth_. You see that the phantom has
+become reality--the ideal is attained.
+
+                       "Your old friend
+
+                                         "Magdalena Freyer."
+
+When the duke received this letter his valet saw him, for the first
+time in his life, weep bitterly.
+
+
+
+
+                              CONCLUSION.
+
+                        FROM ILLUSION TO TRUTH.
+
+
+For ten years God granted the loving wife her husband's life, it seemed
+as if he had entirely recovered. At last the day came when He required
+it again. For the third time the community offered Freyer the part of
+the Christus. He was still a handsome man, and spite of his forty-eight
+years, as slender as a youth, while his spiritual expression, chaste
+and lofty--rendered him more than ever an ideal representative of
+Christ God bestowed upon him the full cup of the perfection of his
+destiny, and it was completed as he had longed. Not on a sick-bed
+succumbing to lingering disease--but high on the cross, as victor over
+pain and death. God had granted him the grace of at last completing the
+task--he had held out this time until the final performance--then, when
+they took him down from the cross for the last time under the falling
+leaves, amid the first snow of the late autumn--he did not wake again.
+On the cross the noble heart had ceased to beat, he had entered
+into the peace of Him Whom he personated--passed from illusion to
+truth--from the _copy_ to the _prototype_.
+
+Never did mortal die a happier death, never did a more beautiful smile
+of contentment rest upon the face of a corpse.
+
+"It is finished! You have done in your way what your model did in His,
+you have sealed the sacred lesson of love by your death, my husband!"
+said the pallid woman who pressed the last kiss upon his lips.
+
+The semblance had become reality, and Mary Magdalene was weeping beside
+her Redeemer's corpse.
+
+On the third day after the crucifixion, when the true Christ had risen,
+Freyer was borne to his grave.
+
+But, like the ph[oe]nix from its ashes, on that day the real Christ
+rose from the humble sepulchre for the penitent.
+
+"When wilt thou appear to me in the spring garden, Redeeming Love?" she
+had once asked. Now she was--in the autumn garden--beside the grave of
+all happiness.
+
+When the coffin had been lowered and the pall-bearers approached the
+worn, drooping widow, the burgomaster asked: "Where do you intend to
+live now, Madame?"
+
+"Where, except in Ammergau, here--where his foot has marked for me the
+path to God? Oh, my Gethsemane!"
+
+"But," said the pastor, "will you exile yourself forever in this quiet
+village? Do you not wish to return to your own circle and the world of
+culture? You have surely atoned sufficiently."
+
+"Atoned? No, your Reverence, not atoned, for the _highest happiness_ is
+no atonement--expiation is beginning _now_." She turned toward the
+Christ which hung on the wall of the church, not far from the grave,
+and extending her arms toward it murmured: "Now I have _nothing_ save
+_Thee_! Thou hast conquered--idea of Christianity, thy power is
+eternal!"----
+
+The cloud of tears hung heavily over Ammergau, falling from time to
+time in damp showers.
+
+Evening had closed in. Through the lighted windows of the ground floor
+of a little house, surrounded by rustling pines, two women were
+visible, Mary and Magdalena. The latter was kneeling before the
+"Mother" whose clasped hands were laid upon her head in comfort and
+benediction.
+
+The lamps in the low-roofed houses of the village were gradually
+lighted. The peasants again sat in their ragged blouses on the carvers'
+benches, toiling, sacrificing, and bearing their lot of poverty and
+humility, proud in the consciousness that every ten years there will be
+a return of the moment which strips off the yoke and lays the purple on
+their shoulders, the moment when in their midst the miracle is again
+performed which spreads victoriously throughout a penitent world--the
+moment which brings to weary, despairing humanity peace and
+atonement--_on the cross_.
+
+
+
+                               FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: "Chips from a German Workshop." Vol. I. "Essays on the
+Science of Religion."]
+
+[Footnote 2: A dish made of flour and water fried in hot lard, but so
+soft that it is necessary to serve and eat it with a spoon.]
+
+[Footnote 3: A drama. Hamerling is better known in America as the
+author of his famous novel "Aspasia."]
+
+[Footnote 4: Part of these lines of Caedmon were put into modern
+English by Robert Spence Watson.]
+
+[Footnote 5: Frey is the god of peace. When its Mythological
+significance was lost, it became an epithet of honor for princes and is
+found frequently applied to our Lord and God the Father.]
+
+
+
+                                THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of On the Cross, by Wilhelmine von Hillern
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