Villa Eden Part 195

"Because he is understood as a matter of course, and also the Priest,"

replied Sonnenkamp.

Eric named, besides, Prince Valerian, the Banker, and Knopf. The number was full.

Sonnenkamp urged that not an hour should be lost, and Eric ordered a horse saddled.

CHAPTER III.

THE HAND OF RECONCILIATION IS NOT GRASPED.

Before Eric started, Manna came to him, saying that she must immediately go to the convent; that she thought it her duty, above all, to confess the truth there, and that she did not wish to postpone any thing so difficult, but to undertake it at once.

Eric was perplexed. Why should Manna wish to re-enter the convent? He soon recognized in this desire, however, the impulse to do something, not to remain in inactivity; and, moreover, the manner in which she sought to sever the old ties in peace was thoroughly n.o.ble: so he merely said,--

"Only do not forget that you are no longer justified in imposing castigations and mortifications upon yourself, or in allowing them to be enjoined upon you by others; for you no longer belong to yourself, Manna, you are mine: you must neither torture my Manna, nor allow others to torture her."

Manna looked at him with beaming eyes, and from out of all her tribulation sounded a serene voice, as she said,--

"It was through you, Eric, that I came to this resolution."

"Through me?"

"Yes. You told me how much good it did you, when one of your comrades, after you had taken leave of him, came to you and said, 'Do not think hardly of me if I ignore you. You could not do otherwise; and I neither can nor dare do otherwise.' I am going to imitate you and your comrade.

The souls of those in the convent shall not be burdened with my desertion, which they must consider as apostasy."

Manna wished that Aunt Claudine should accompany her; but Eric thought it more fitting that she should travel with Roland. The brother and sister would thus be alone together, out in the world; and Roland would have to protect his sister, to render her services which would lift him out of his state of dead dejection, out of his heavy, monotonous sorrow.

"You can scarcely imagine how happy it makes me to let you command me,"

said Manna, as Eric arranged every thing.

Roland agreed at once.

"But you must ask your parents' leave," was the next order; and the children felt painfully that this was but a form: every thing was torn asunder and rent to shreds; all obedience and all dependence.

"Manna, now is the time," said Roland, in great agitation.

"For what?"

"You ask father; perhaps he will tell you whether we have no blood-relations in Europe. Whoever they may be, they ought to come to us now. It is hard enough that we have never troubled ourselves about them."

Manna looked imploringly up to Eric, who, rightly discerning in the youth the instinctive longing for family ties, begged them to abstain from urging the matter for the present, saying that the time for it would come by and by.

Manna went to her father, and said that she wished to go to the convent.

Sonnenkamp was alarmed, but quickly regained his composure on Manna's adding that she went thither for the last time, in order to bid farewell forever, as she had decided never to become a nun.

In spite of all its distortion, a gleam of triumphant satisfaction lighted up Sonnenkamp's face.

"Do you see at last? They knew--I now have certain evidence that they knew--what money, and in what manner earned, you brought them. Did they ever say a word to you about being unable to accept it?"

Manna avoided this view of the question. She would gladly have confessed all to her father at once, but had not yet the courage.

Moreover, she had promised Eric to follow his guidance implicitly.

The weather was foggy and cold, as the brother and sister, and Fraulein Perini, went down the river: yet the journey refreshed them, for Roland said after a short time,--

"Ah! There _is_ a world outside after all!"

Towards noon, the sun pierced through the mist, which melted away, and every thing became suddenly bright. The vessel steamed down the stream, shooting rapidly along over the clear water, between the sun-illumined mountains, on which, here and there, harvests were still being gathered.

The pa.s.sengers stood or walked on deck, enjoying the wide prospect; but below in the cabin, lay Manna, with closed eyes, not heeding Fraulein Perini's injunction to come up and refresh herself with the view and the free air, only begging to be left alone. And so she lay and thought, half dreaming, half awake, of all that had happened to her and hers. How utterly different it was when she went up the river, with Roland, last spring! Eric's warning came into her mind, how wealth, and the ease with which it enables one to make disposition of external means and of those who serve, seduce us into healing ourselves with amus.e.m.e.nts and outward remedies.

This reproach did not now trouble her: she only wished to part peacefully from a Past, under obligations contracted in her soul to the friendly souls there, which she wished to fulfil, even though outwardly separating herself from them. Her soul lay bound by obligations to the women yonder: she wanted to take care to be truly comprehended, even though she was outwardly cutting herself off from them.

The difference of faith between Eric and herself again arose before her. But what course remained to her? To become untrue there to the pious sisters, or here to Eric; but no, that was no longer possible.

She hoped that the great soul of the Superior would give her calmness; and thus she lay, sunk in a half-slumber during the whole trip.

On deck, Fraulein Perini was glad, on the whole, that Manna had remained unseen; for here and there among the pa.s.sengers Sonnenkamp was mentioned, and the report was, that the Prince's negro had lifted him up with both hands, and had carried him, struggling, down the staircase, until he was set at liberty by the servants, who brought him to the carriage. An agent, whom Fraulein Perini knew, was already wondering who would buy the Villa, for it was absolutely certain that the man would not remain there.

In the forward cabin, where Lootz had ensconced himself, he was obliged to hear the fruiterers who were carrying to the Lower. Rhine the fruit which they had brought from Sonnenkamp's head-gardener, saying one to another, that they would not be willing to take a mouthful of fruit cultivated by this man. They granted him the merit, however, of having done much toward the introduction of a species of apples which grew easily and bore well.

At the last stopping-place but one before the Island Cloister, two black-robed nuns came on board. Fraulein Perini, who knew one of them, went down with them into the cabin where Manna was sleeping. Both nuns placed themselves opposite to her, took out their prayer-books, and prayed for the poor soul lying there in the sleep of sorrow.

Manna opened her eyes and gazed around in astonishment. She knew not where she was. One of the nuns--it was the shy one, who always kept in the background--welcomed her in the French language, and bade her comfortingly, resign herself to all that she must endure.

Manna sat up. So, then, the news had already reached even their ears!

She went on deck with Roland and the three ladies. The Island cloister came into view. Every thing was so clear and bright, that she felt as though she had now suddenly returned to earth. There was every thing, just as it used to be, seeming to look at her with the question, "Where hast thou been this long time?"

They got into the boat, and were rowed toward the island. Every tree, every bench, every shrub, greeted her like a long-vanished Past.

She cast a melancholy glance at the beautiful round seat on the landing-place, where she had so often sat with Heimchen. Now wet leaves lay upon the bench.

They reached the convent.

Manna sent her name at once to the Superior, but received the answer that she must first remain an hour in the church, and then come to her.

Manna understood what this meant; but did the Superior, then, already know of her defection? She went towards the church, but remained standing at the door, without entering. She feared the picture within, knowing that she could not do otherwise than raise her eyes towards it, and yet that must not be. She turned round again, and went out towards the park. She heard the children in the house playing together; she heard singing in another cla.s.s; she knew how all were sitting; she knew every bench; approaching the fir-tree where she had so often sat, she saw that the seat was no longer there. On the kneeling-stool where Heimchen used to sit, lay withered leaves. "To Heimchen," said a voice within her. Turning back, it seemed to her, in pa.s.sing the convent, as though she were guilty of rebellion and sin in not having obeyed the Superior's command. She came into the churchyard. On Heimchen's grave stood a cross with this inscription in golden letters:--

"The child is not dead, but sleepeth."--Mark v. 39.

"How?" cried Manna. "Why these words here? They are spoken in Scripture of that child who was re-awakened on its death-bed, but not of a buried one."

She sank down upon the grave, and her thoughts grew confused: she lost all consciousness of the pa.s.sage of time. At last, composing herself, she turned back toward the convent. Admitted into the reception-room, she was still obliged to wait alone; the pictures on the wall seeming to withdraw into the distance if she looked up at them.

At last came the Superior. Manna, hastening toward her, would have thrown herself upon her neck; but she stood rigid, winding both ends of her hempen girdle around the forefingers of her right and left hand, so that the rope cut into the flesh.

Manna sank down at her feet.