Charles Auchester Volume I Part 32

"Come! we must find means to approach as well, for the strawberry pyramid will soon not have left one stone upon another."

I made way instantly to the table, and with no small difficulty smuggled a plate and had it filled with strawberries. I abjured the cream, and so did he to whom I returned; but we began to wander up and down.

"Let me recommend you," said he, "a slice of white bread; it is so good with strawberries; otherwise you must eat some sausage, for that fruit will never serve alone,--you might as well starve entirely, or drink dew-water."

"I don't see any bread," I answered, laughing; "it is all eaten."

"Oh, oh!" he returned, and with the air of Puck he tripped across the pavilion to a certain table from which the fair superintendent had flown. The ribbons and wreaths danced in the breeze, but the white linen was bare of a single loaf.

"I _must_ have some bread for thee, Carlomein; and I, indeed, myself begin to feel the want unknown to angels."

Could this be the same, it struck me, who discoursed like an angel of that high throng? So animated was he, such a sharp brightness sparkled in his eyes.

"Somebody has run away with the loaf on purpose," he continued, with his dancing smile; "I saw a charming loaf as I came in, but then the strawberries put it out of my head, and lo! it is gone."

"I _will_ get some bread!" and off I darted out of the pavilion, he after me, and all eyes upon us.

It was a beautiful scene in the air: a lovely garden, not too trim, but diversified with mounds and tree-crowned slopes, all furnished with alcoves, or seats and tables. Here was a hum of voices, there a fragment of part-song scattered by a laugh, or hushed with reverent shyness as all arose, whether sitting or lying, to uncover the head as my companion pa.s.sed. There were groups of ten or twelve, five or six, or two and two together; many sat upon the gra.s.s, itself so dry and mossy; and it was upon one of these parties, arranged in half Elysian, half gypsy style, that my companion fixed his thrilling eyes.

He darted across the gra.s.s. "I have it! I see it!" and I was immediately upon his footsteps. These were all ladies; and as they wore no bonnets, they could not uncover, but at the same time they were not conscious of our approach at first. They made a circle, and had spread a linen cloth upon the fervid floor: each had a plate, and almost every one was eating, except a young girl in the very middle of the ring. She was dispensing, slice by slice, our missing bread-cake. But I did not look farther, for I was lost in observing my guide; not understanding his expression, which was troubled and fallen, while his light tones shook the very leaves.

"Ah, the thieves, the rogues, to steal the bread from our very mouths!

Did I not know where I should find it? You cannot want it all: give us one slice, only one little slice! for we are starving, as you do not know, and beggars, as you cannot see, for we look like gentlemen."

I never shall forget the effect of his words upon the little group; all were scared and scattered in a moment,--all except the young lady who held the loaf in her lap. I do not say she stirred not, on the contrary, it was the impulsive grace of her gesture, as she swayed her hand to a little mound of moss by her side, just deserted, that made me start and turn to see her, that turned me from _his_ face a moment.

"Ah! who art thou?" involuntarily sounded in my yet unaverted ear. He spoke as if to me, but how could I reply? I was lost as he, but in far other feelings than his,--at least I thought so, for I was surprised at his ejaculatory wonder.

"I will cut some bread for you, sir, if you will condescend to sit,"

said a voice, which was as that of a child at its evening prayer, so full it was of an innocent _idlesse_, not _navete_, but differing therefrom as differs the lisp of infancy from the stammer of diffident manhood.

"I should like to sit; come also, Carlomein," replied my companion; and in defiance of all the etiquette of social Germany, which so defiantly breathes ice between the s.e.xes, I obeyed. So did he his own intention; for he not only remained, but knelt on one knee, while gazing with two suns in his eyes, he recalled the scattered company.

"Come back! come back!" he cried; "I order you!" and his silent smile seemed beckoning as he waved his elfin hand. One strayed forward, blus.h.i.+ng through the hair; another disconcerted; and they all seemed sufficiently puzzled.

The gathering completed, my conductor took up the basket and peeped into every corner, laughed aloud, handed it about, and stole no glance at the maiden president. I was watching her, though for a mighty and thrilling reason, that to describe in any measure is an expectation most like despair. Had she been his sister, the likeness between them had been more earthly,--less appalling. I am certain it struck no one else present, and it probably might have suggested itself to no one anywhere besides, as I have since thought; but _me_ it clove through heart and brain, like a two-edged sword whose temper is light instead of steel. So I saw and felt that she partook intimately, not alone of his nature, but of his inspiration; not only of his beauty, but his unearthly habit. And now, how to breathe in words the mystery that was never explained on earth! He was pure and clear, his brow like sun-flushed snow high lifted into light,--her own dark if soft, and toned with hues of night from the purple under-deeps of her heavy braiding hair. His features were of mould so rare that their study alone as models would have superseded by a new ideal the old fresh glories of the Greek marble world,--hers were flexibly inexpressive, all their splendor slept in uncharacteristic outline, and diffused themselves from her perfect eyes, as they awoke on her parted lips.

His eyes, so intense and penetrative, so wise and brilliant, with all their crystal calm and rousing fire, were as unlike hers as the sun in the diamond to the sun upon the lonely sea. In hers the blue-green transparence seemed to serve alone as a mirror to reflect all hues of heaven; in his, the heaven within as often struggled with the paler show of paradise that Nature lent him in his exile. But if I spoke of the rest,--of the traits that pierce only when the mere veiling loveliness is rent asunder,--I should say it must ever bid me wonder to have discovered the divine fraternity in such genuine and artless symbol. It was as if the same celestial fire permeated their veins,--the same insurgent longings lifted their very feet from the ground. The elfin hands of which I spoke were not more rare, were not more small and subtile, than the little grasping fingers she extended to offer him the bread, and from which his own received it. Nor was there wanting in her smile the strange immortal sweetness that signalized his own,--hers broke upon her parted lips like fragrance, the fragrance that _his_ seemed to bear from the bursting buds of thought in the suns.h.i.+ne of inward fancy. But what riveted the resemblance most was the instancy of their sympathetic communion.

While those around had quietly resumed their occupation, too busy to talk,--though certainly they might have been forgiven for being very hungry,--_he_, no more kneeling, but rather lying than sitting, with his G.o.dlike head turned upwards to the sky, continued to accost her, and I heard all they said.

"I knew you again directly, you perceive, but you do not look so naughty now as you did in the school; you were even angry, and I cannot conceive why."

"Cannot you, sir?" she replied, without the slightest embarra.s.sment.

"I wonder whether _you_ would like to be rewarded for serving music."

"_It_ rewards _us_, you cannot avoid its reward; but I agree with you about the silver and the gold. We will have no more medals."

"They like them, sir, those who have toiled for them, and who would not toil but for the promise of something to show."

"And the blue ribbons are very pretty."

"So is the blue sky, and they can neither give it us nor take it from us; nor can they our reward."

"And that reward?" asked he.

"Is to suffer for its sake," she answered.

He lifted his eyebrows in a wondering archness. "To suffer? To suffer, who alone enjoy, and are satisfied, and glorify happiness above all others, and above all other things?"

"Not all suffer, only the faithful; and to suffer is not to sorrow, and of all joy the blossom-sorrow prepares the fruit."

"And how old are you whose blossom-sorrow I certainly cannot find in any form upon your maiden presence?"

"You smile, and seem to say, 'Thou hast not yet _lived_ the right to speak,--purchased by experience the freedom of speech.' I am both young and old. I believe I am younger than any just here, and I know more than they all do."

"Was it pride," thought I, "that curled beneath those tones so flowery soft?" for there was a lurking bitterness I had not found in _him_.

"Not younger than this one;" he took my hand and spread it across his knee. "These fingers are to weave the azure ribbon next."

"He is coming, I know, but is not come; his name is upon the books. I hope he will not be an out-Cecilian, because I should like to know him, and we cannot know very well those who do not reside within the walls."

"He is one of my very friendly ones. Will you also be very friendly with him?"

"I always will. Be friendly now!" and she smiled upon me an instant, very soon letting fall her eyes, in which I then detected a Spanish droop of the lids, though, when raised, her glance dispelled the notion, for the brightness there shone all unshorn by the inordinate length of the lashes, and I never saw eyes so light, with lashes so defined and dark.

"So, sir, this azure ribbon which you admire is also to be woven for him?" she continued, as if to prolong the conversation.

"Not if symbols are to be the order of the day, for, Carlomein, your color is not _blue_."

"No, sir; it is violet, you said."

"We say _blue violets_."

"Yes, sir," she responded quickly. "So we say the blue sky at night; but how different at night and by day! The violet holds the blue, but also that deeper soul by the blue alone made visible. All sounds seem to sleep in one, when that is the violin."

"You are speaking too well; it makes me afraid you will be disappointed," I said in my first surprise. Then, feeling I had blundered, "I mean in me."

"That would make no difference. Music is, and is eternal. We cannot add one moment to its eternity, nor by our inapt.i.tude diminish the proper glory of our art. Is it not so, sir?" she inquired of him.

Like a little child somewhat impatient over a morning lesson, he shook his hair back and sprang upon his feet.

"I wish you to show me the garden before I go: is this where you walk?

And where is the Raphael?"

"That is placed in the conservatory, by order of Monsieur Milans-Andre."

"Monsieur myself will have it moved. Why in the conservatory, I wonder? It should be _at home_, I think."

"It does look very well there to-day, as it is hung with its peculiar garland,--the white roses."