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CHAPTER V.
NOCTURNAL INFORMATION, AND A FAREWELL LOST BY SLEEP

Roland slept; he little thought that over him and his destiny two men were keeping watch in the deepest anxiety.

Eric had followed his host into the workroom, and here Weidmann asked him: "Do you know why you are sent here?"

"Sent here?"

"Yes."

"Herr Sonnenkamp wants to establish friendly relations with you, and I myself have wished for some time-"

"Good. The best spy is often the one who doesn't know that he has to be a spy, who looks on innocently and reports innocently."

"I don't understand."

"Take my word for it, Herr Sonnenkamp didn't for a moment think of coming to our house, especially as he does not yet know when Dr. Fritz leaves; his pretending to you that he was called away was quite harmless. Send a messenger, and he will send you word with his regrets that he cannot come himself, but will send the carriage. Ah! my young friend, there is no pleasure in following up the trail of the beast of prey in man. But first of all, one question. Do you know how Herr Sonnenkamp comes on in his endeavors to get a title?"

"No."

"Do you know that I have hit upon means to be relied on of forming an opinion of Herr Sonnenkamp's deserts?"

Eric expressed his ignorance, and Weidmann continued: —

"I have told you that the groom who blows the trumpet was once a convict. I have still another convict that I keep on an out of the way part of the estate, for he doesn't do well, not so much from an evil disposition, as from a spirit of braggadocio when he is amongst men. You see then that I do not reject men of criminal antecedents; for pride in our own virtue is very weak-kneed. It is, at the best, only good luck if we, by teaching and example, and with the means of subsistence assured to us, do not burden ourselves with many an ill deed that we cannot blot out. Of course, a long-continued, closely-calculating occupation, revolting to every feeling of humanity – but as I said, I will put no obstacle in Herr Sonnenkamp's way, only it is incomprehensible to me that he should seek to be ennobled, and in that way voluntarily challenge inquiry into his antecedents. If, as my friend Wolfsgarten says, you have great influence over Herr Sonnenkamp, advise him to give this thing up."

Eric held his hand before his eyes; his eye was burning, he strove to speak, but could not.

Weidmann, who misapprehended this emotion, said in a mild tone: —

"I admire your power, in having been able, as Herr Knopf informed me, and as I myself see, to bring an atmosphere of noble feeling into this family, to hold your pupil in the path of innocence, and to naturalize him in all that is good. If this boy should one day learn-"

"Learn what? what? I beg of you," Eric was at last able to utter.

"Do you mean to say," answered Weidmann, pressing his head with both hands, "do you mean to say that you know nothing about it?"

"I know nothing more than this, that Herr Sonnenkamp owned large plantations with great numbers of slaves, that he grew tired of the life, and therefore came back to Germany."

"Herr Sonnenkamp – Herr Sonnenkamp!" said Weidmann, "a pretty name! and it is well for him that his mother bore it. So you have never heard of a Herr Banfield?"

"Nothing very definite; but the head gardener told me that Herr Sonnenkamp was very angry on his return from the Baths, when he found that name registered in the visitors' book. But tell me, what is there in that?"

"Herr Sonnenkamp, or rather, not Herr Sonnenkamp, but, as his name really is, Herr Banfield, is in so many words the most notorious slave-dealer ever known in the Southern States; nay, more. My nephew, Doctor Fritz, could tell you many a thing he has done; he even went so far as to defend slavery in the public prints, and he was so shameless as to set himself up as a proof that all Germans had not degenerated into sentimental humanity, but that he, a representative of Germany, supported slavery, maintaining it to be right. He has a ring on his thumb; if he takes the ring off, you can see the marks of the teeth of a slave whom he was throttling, and who bit him in that thumb."

A cry of horror was wrung from Eric's heart; he could only gasp out the words: —

"O Roland! O Mother! O Manna!"

"It grieves me to tell you this, but it is best that you should learn it through me. You cannot conceive that a man with such antecedents can at times appear so well, and engage in the discussions of principles. Yes, this man is a swamp encircled with flowers. The fellow has cost me many days of my life, for I cannot understand how he can live. Slave-dealing is murder in cold blood, the annihilation of free existence for one's own gain; the murderer from passion, and the murderer from rapacity, stalk over the corpses of their victims to gratify their desire of establishing their supposed rights. The world is to them a field of battle and a conflict, an annihilation of their foes, to find room for themselves. But a slave-dealer – a slave murderer! And this man is now a fruit-grower, a most excellent, careful fruit-grower, in mockery of the words: 'By their fruits ye shall know them.' Oh! my head was fairly crazed with this man, until I brought myself to the point of being able to forget him!"

Weidmann spoke on uninterruptedly, as if he did not wish these sad thoughts to settle down upon him.

Soon Eric raised his head and besought him: —

"Tell me all."

"Yes, you shall know all, – ah, what is all? You have heard of the fate of Captain Brown at Harper's Ferry?"

"Certainly. Was Herr Sonnenkamp there too?"

"He was a ringleader."

Eric related how Roland at one time in his fever dreams shouted, "John Brown is hanging on the gallows!"

The more he spoke of Roland, the more feelingly his voice trembled, and at last hot tears burst from his eyes. He apologized for this weakness before Weidmann, who said: —

"Your tears consecrate you in my eyes forever; you shall find in me a friend whom you may call upon at any time and in any situation of life. Whatever is in my power is yours, your deeds shall be mine. You are not weak, you are strong, you must be; and it is a noble vocation for you to be placed as you are at the side of such a youth, with such a fatal inheritance."

Eric Stood up and drew a long deep breath; the two men held fast each other's hands, and laying his left on his heart, Eric said: —

"I hope that I shall show myself worthy of your appeal."

"I knew this, and it is better, as I said, that you have learned the thing from me. There's no doubt about the matter, depend upon it."

For a long while not a word was spoken. Eric had called out Manna's name with Roland's and his mother's. Now, for the first time, in the deepest sorrow, it broke upon him fully, that he loved Manna; and with a sense of satisfaction the thought shot through his soul that he had not yet spoken to her a word of love.

Terrified at this selfishness he started up.

How could he think of himself, and not of her hard fate? He grieved for her, above all, that she should be the daughter of such a man.

How will she bear it? And did she know it perhaps already? Was this the cause of her secluded life, of the eagerness to sacrifice herself and take the veil?

"Don't lose yourself in thoughts and anxious speculations," said Weidmann admonishingly.

Eric did not dare to speak of Manna; he merely asked Weidmann whether he thought he ought to communicate this information to his mother; for it was doubly agonizing to have involved his mother in such a connection.

Weidmann said that he well knew what a frightful thing it must be to eat this man's bread, to drink his wine, to receive services at his hand. But he impressed upon Eric the necessity of sparing his mother the recital as long as possible, since he needed her sorely as a stay for Frau Ceres and Manna. Yes, Weidmann called it a rare piece of good fortune to have at one's side, aiding and supporting, a woman so noble, and so tried in the battle of life.

It was long after midnight when Eric left his host.

He went to his room; he saw that Roland was asleep, and a silent vow rose to his lips, as he gazed upon the handsome, sleeping boy.

Eric wandered restless through the house and through the woods; meteors darted hither and thither through the sky; in the distance glistened the waves of the Rhine; a dewy atmosphere lay upon the whole earth; Eric found no rest, nay, he found hardly a moment's meditation. What should he, what could he do?

Morning began to glimmer; he returned to the courtyard.

Here everything was full of life.

He first fell in with Knopf, who said to him: —

"I haven't slept a wink the whole night on your account. Ah, that question of yours! Theoretically it cannot be solved, since all the real relations of life are made up not of whole numbers, but of fractions only, and can only be expressed in fractions. So the total also cannot be expressed in one whole number. I can't make out, and it turns my head to think of what I should do if I were possessed of many millions. To found benevolent institutions, that is hardly enough; the whole world shouldn't be a vast almshouse, a piously endowed establishment. I would have joy and beauty everywhere; men should be not only fed and clothed, they should also be happy. In the first place, I would found in every town a good salary for the teacher who leads the singing-club, and a pint of wine for every member on Sunday; and I would build a concert-hall in every town, with lofty summer-saloons, and well-heated rooms in winter, ornamented with beautiful paintings; and in them should be hung up the prizes gained by the club.

"I would also erect an institute for poor children, and make myself director of it; and then I would found a refuge for deserving tutors. I have even fixed on the name it should go by, – 'The Home for Eventide.' Oh, that will be magnificent; how the old teachers will wrangle and each extol his system as the best! I have also decided to let the principal lie, and take a million from it to go travelling with. I would take with me a dozen or more companions, honest, capable men, naturalists, painters, sculptors, merchants, politicians, teachers – in a word, capable men from all callings. I would have them equipped with everything needful, and we would stop wherever and as long as we chose. In this way I would learn what are the best social arrangements in the world, and when I came home I'd establish similar ones. I do not expect to find it out all at once. Only think what a fine thing such a journey would be, with a dozen or more right clever men, with our own ship for the sea, and with mules for the mountains. In a word, it would be splendid, and useful at the same time. And when Roland comes home he must turn agriculturist; it is altogether the best life; that is to say, man has in that life the best basis to stand upon – the most natural basis. But, as I said, I am counting my chickens before they are hatched."

Eric hardly heard what Knopf was saying, and for the first time woke up out of his dreams when Knopf asked him, —

"Where is Roland? I promised to wake him in time for the departure of Doctor Fritz and his child."

"Just let him sleep."

"On your responsibility?"

"On my responsibility."

"Very well," rejoined Knopf. "Indeed, I had rather not wake him. In that way Roland will have to suffer a pretty little bit of romantic pain. I cannot tolerate this sentimental nonsense between children. Now he has taken his leave, or rather not taken his leave in the night, and while he was sleeping she disappeared; that is a bit of romantic pain. This taking leave! In the morning, shivering and shaking on the steamer-landing, or at the railroad station, you take leave; then the ship or the train moves off, then you stand there like one who has been robbed, and then you have got to go back. Ah, it is so absurd! I shiver a whole day after a farewell. But now if Roland wakes up and the child has flown away, that may leave a sweet, strong, ecstatic remembrance behind in the soul; and we too, you, Doctor, and I, are both giants in this children's story."

At this point Herr and Frau Weidmann came upon the scene, as well as their sons, the Russian, the Banker, and all the inmates of the house. All shook hands once more with Doctor Fritz and his child, and Lilian cried, —

"Herr Knopf, give my compliments to Roland, the sleeper."

Away rolled the carriage, the inmates of the house retired to bed; all but Eric and Knopf, who still roamed about in the morning twilight; and Knopf was especially happy to watch so closely once more the universal awakening of nature.

He said that one always neglected it, unless compelled to observe it; and that there were doubtless many poets who sang of the dewy twilight of the morn, who were at the same time frightfully late sleepers.

Eric listened to the good Knopf, but could not conceive how there could be a man out there in the open air alive to such contemplation; with him every thought and every act, the very idea that there was still much to do in life, seemed like a shadowy dream.

On the other hand, Knopf thought that Eric was all attention, and expressed regret that the child had gone; he still had the Russian Prince to instruct, indeed, but the child had made the whole house happy; she was like a living, speaking rose transplanted from the New World. They were evidently expressions which were to serve as ornaments to a poem already begun or in contemplation.

Eric listened to it all patiently.

At last he asked Knopf if Doctor Fritz had said much to him about Herr Sonnenkamp.

Knopf confirmed a part of Weidmann's information; but he did not seem to know everything.

"I take the holy morn to witness," exclaimed Knopf, "you are a man to be honored, Herr Dournay. If I had known at the time the antecedents of Herr Sonnenkamp, I should not have felt so secure when I was teaching Roland. I should always have felt as if there was a loaded pistol at my ear, to go off at any moment. Yes, you are a strong man; this is a new kind of greatness, for I know what it means to control and manage Roland as you do."

Knopf had seized hold of Eric's hand, and in his excessive enthusiasm he kissed it.

Eric was calm, and Knopf had a beatific look; his countenance with its smiles was like the stream, on whose bosom the wind tosses along the rippling waves. He maintained that they were both happy in being co-workers in the solution of the most difficult and most sublime problem of the century; for Eric had Roland to instruct, who would be obliged to have relations with slavery, and he himself had the Russian for a pupil, who had now the emancipated serfs to manage.

He represented that the prince wanted him to go home with him, and establish a school for the liberated serfs; Doctor Fritz, on the other hand, wanted him to go to America and manage a school for the children of freed negroes. He reproached himself with not having really a stronger inclination for the negro children, for as he wished to be honest, he must confess he would only go to America for the sake of seeing Lilian once more, and observing how she developed, and what fortune was in store for her.

As Eric was returning to the courtyard, he saw Weidmann and the Banker getting into the carriage; they were going to the capital to negotiate for the domain. Eric bade good-bye to them, and expressed his determination to return at once to Villa Eden. As he named Villa Eden, he felt a shiver creep over him. Weidmann stepped out of the carriage once more, took Eric aside, impressed upon him the necessity of being circumspect, and from the carriage exclaimed, —

"Dear Dournay, both for your mother and your aunt, my house is always yours."

Eric went away to waken Roland. As he woke up, he cried, —

"Is it morning already? Are they still here?"

"Who?"

"Lilian and her father."

"No; they have been gone this long while."

"And why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because you needed sleep. In one hour we are going home again."

Roland turned defiantly away; but while Eric was talking to him with great earnestness, he turned his face towards him at last, and on his long eyelashes stood big tears.

"What tears will those eyes one day shed?" said Eric to himself.

The carriage in which Doctor Fritz and his child had left came back. The coachman brought still another greeting from Lilian to Roland. The horses were not taken out, but fed in harness, and soon Eric and Roland were journeying homewards.

CHAPTER VI.
THE WORLD A MASQUERADE

If romantic affliction manifests itself in a pale face, a feeling of loathing, obstinacy, and hatred of one's neighbor and of everything, then had Roland experienced a genuine romantic affliction. He sat near Eric in the carriage, and shut his eyes so as to see nothing but what was going on in his own imagination; he pressed his lips hard together, pale and trembling, determined not to say a word.

Am I a child still, he asked himself, that can be knocked about hither and thither, that must obey and ask for no reason? Why didn't Eric give a reason for his returning so suddenly? Why did Knopf, with a triumphant smile, tell me that he didn't wake me on purpose? Then it flashed upon him that Knopf had taken upon himself the responsibility that Eric had assumed, and he might have thought that it would be better for Roland to be angry with an absent one, than with him in whose hands he had to remain. In the meanwhile Roland glanced over towards Eric, to see whether he wasn't on the point of beginning to explain everything to him; but Eric was silent; he had also shut his eyes.

In the bright day, through a landscape full of life, they both rode on wrapt in their own reveries.

Overcome with fatigue, Eric sat as if sunk in a half sleep, in which the rattle of the carriage sounded like a demoniacal rumble. At times, when they were descending, and the locked wheels squeaked and grated, he would look up, catch a glimpse of the Rhine in the distance, then shut his eyes, and in his half dream pierce through the view of water of mountain; and it seemed to him, as if everything was flooded over, and in the midst of the waves stood two men on rocks, far from, and still beckoning to, each other. On one stood Clodwig, speaking of a Roman relic which he held in his hand, and on the other stood Weidmann, talking of life insurance, and between whiles they were talking about Eric and Roland. And just as he woke up he heard quite distinctly, as if both had shouted out to each other, "Eric and Roland have reached home safely!"

"Here there are," they had shouted; "here they are," shouted a voice from without.

The horses stopped; Fräulein Milch was standing at the garden hedge; they were at the Major's. Eric greeted her, and taking it for granted that they had not come to see her, Fräulein Milch called out: —

"The Major drove over to the Villa more than an hour ago, and left word with me, that he would not be back to dinner."

Eric got out; he asked Fräulein Milch about his mother, and whether she knew what was going on at the villa. He learned that there must be something unusual, for everything was in happy confusion; to-day, undoubtedly, the betrothal of Von Pranken and Manna would be solemnized.

Eric allowed Roland to go home alone; he had to shape his course anew.

"The whole world is a masquerade," said Fräulein Milch.

Eric, who honored the good old lady sincerely, did not, however, feel in the mood for discussing generalities about mankind; and when Fräulein Milch tried to get out of him what he had learned at Mattenheim, he approached the limit of impoliteness in answer to her repeated inquiries. He did not suspect that Fräulein Milch, who knew everything already, wished to come to an explanation with him.

He had desired to compose himself here as in a sort of ante-room, and to think matters over, and now he went away as if frightened. He saw the handsome villa glistening in the bright sunshine, the blazing panes of the glass house and cupola; he saw the park, he saw the green cottage in which his mother lived – and all this was built and planted from the profits of traffic in human beings.

Does Pranken know it? He must know it, and then it remains to be seen whether he will extend his hand to the daughter of this house. Hatred and bitterness that Manna should belong to this house penetrated his whole being, made his hair stand on end, and clenched his fists; he would dash the whole lying structure to pieces. But Manna – how would she take it? He stood still, upbraiding himself that he had ever thought himself capable of cherishing one noble thought within his soul. He stood still and stared at the rocks as if he would have dashed them down into the valley, crushing everything beneath. A physical pain, a pang through his heart, almost took away his breath. Beaming out from the surrounding darkness it stood before him – he loved Manna; and without being aware of it, he laughed aloud.

"The daughter of this man thy wife, the mother of thy children? The world is a masquerade."

The words of Fräulein Milch came back to him, and he added to them, —

"And I am not called to tear off the mask from the faces of the maskers?"

Inwardly composed he went to the villa.