O. T., A Danish Romance Part 29

Otto ran to the peasant's cottage and brought water. Peter Cripple himself hopped like a mountain-elf behind him through the high nettles and burdocks, which closed above and behind him again.

The Kammerjunker took Eva in his strong arms and carried her to the cottage. Wilhelm did not leave hold of her hand. The others followed in silence.

"Try and get her home," said Wilhelm; "I myself will fetch the physician!" He rushed forth, and hastened through the wood to the ball, where he ordered the men to bring out a sedan-chair for the invalid; then had horses put into one of the lightest carriages, seated himself in it as coachman, and drove away to Nyborg, the nearest town, which, however, was distant almost twenty miles.

Sophie was inconsolable. "It is my fault!" she said, and wept.

Otto found her sitting before the house, under an elder-tree. She could not endure to see Eva's paleness.

"You are innocent," said Otto. "Believe me, to-morrow Eva will be completely restored! She herself," added he, in an a.s.suaging tone, "behaved in an imprudent manner. I warned her not to run. Her own terror is to blame for all."

"No, no," returned Sophie; "my folly, my extravagance, has caused the whole misfortune!"

"Now it is much better," said the Kammerjunker, coming out of the house.

"She must be devilish tender to fly before a few calves! I really must laugh when I think of it, although it did come to such an end!"

The men now arrived whom Wilhelm had sent with the sedan-chair.

Eva thought she could walk, if she might lean upon some one; but it would be better, her friends thought, if she were carried.

"Dost thou feel any pain?" asked Louise, and gave her a sisterly kiss on the brow.

"No, none at all," replied Eva. "Do not scold me for having frightened you so. I am so fearful, and the bullock were close behind us."

"They were, G.o.d help me, only calves!" answered the Kammerjunker; "they wished to play, and only ran because you ran!"

"It was a foolish joke of mine!" said Sophie, and seized Eva's hand. "I am very unhappy about it!"

"O no!" said Eva, and smiled so pensively, yet happily. "To-morrow I shall be quite well again!" Her eye seemed to seek some one.

Otto understood the glance. "The physician is sent for. Wilhelm has himself driven over for him."

Toward the middle of the wood the mother herself approached them; she was almost as pale as Eva.

All sought to calm her; Eva bowed her head to kiss the good lady's hand.

The Kammerjunker told the story to her, and she shook her head. "What an imprudent, foolish joke!" said she; "here you see the consequences!"

Not before late in the afternoon did Wilhelm return with the physician; he found his patient out of all danger, but prescribed what should still be done. Quiet and the warm summer air would do the most for her.

"See," said Otto, when, toward evening he met Sophie in the garden, "to-day Wilhelm did not conceal his feelings!"

"I fear that you are right!" returned Sophie. "He loves Eva, and that is very unfortunate. Tell me what you know about it."

"I know almost nothing!" said Otto, and told about little Jonas and the first meeting with Eva.

"Yes, that he has told us already himself! But do you know nothing more?" Her voice became soft, and her eyes gazed full of confidence into Otto's.

He related to her the short conversation which he had had last autumn with Wilhelm, how angry he had been with his candid warning, and how since then they had never spoken about Eva.

"I must confide my fear to our mother!" said Sophie. "I almost now am glad that he will travel in two months, although we shall then lose you also!"

And Otto's heart beat; the secret of his heart pressed to his lips; every moment he would speak it. But Sophie had always still another question about her brother; they were already out of the garden, already in the court-yard, and yet Otto had said nothing.

Therefore was he so quiet when, late in the evening, he and Wilhelm entered their chamber. Wilhelm also spoke no word, but his eye repeatedly rested expectantly on Otto, as if waiting for him to break the silence. Wilhelm stepped to the open window and drank in the fresh air, suddenly he turned round, flung his arms round Otto, and exclaimed, "I can no longer endure it! I must say it to some one! I love her, and will never give her up, let every one be opposed! I have now silently concealed my feelings for some months; I can do so no longer, or I shall become ill, and for that I am not made!"

"Does she know this?" asked Otto.

"No, and yes! I do not know what I should answer! Here at home I have never spoken alone with her. The last time when Weyse played on the organ at Roeskelde I had bought a pretty silk handkerchief, and this I took with me for her; I know not, but I wished to give her pleasure.

There came a woman past with lovely stocks; I stood at the open window; she offered me a bouquet, and I bought it. 'Those are lovely flowers!'

said Eva, when she entered. 'They will fade with me!' said I; 'put them in water and keep there for yourself!' She wished only to have a few, but I obliged her to take them all: she blushed, and her eyes gazed strangely down into my soul. I know not what sort of a creature I became, but it was impossible for me to give her the handkerchief; it seemed to me that this would almost be an offense. Eva went away with the flowers, but the next morning it seemed to me that she was uneasy; I fancied I saw her color come and go when I bade her adieu! She must have read the thoughts in my soul!"

"And the handkerchief?" interrupted Otto.

"I gave it to my sister Sophie," said Wilhelm.

CHAPTER x.x.xV

"Tell me What would my heart?

My heart's with thee, With thee would have a part."

GOETHE'S West-ostlicher Divan.

"There stands the man again-- The man with gloomy mien."

Memories of Travel, by B. C. INGEMANN.

Several days pa.s.sed; the fine crimson again returned to Eva's cheeks.

The first occasion of her going out with the others was to see the rape-stalks burned. These were piled together in two immense stacks. In the morning, at the appointed hour, which had been announced through the neighborhood that no one might mistake it for a conflagration, the stalks were set fire to. This took place in the nearest field, close beside the hall, where the rape-seed was threshed upon an out-spread sail.

The landscape-painter, Dahl, has given us a picture of the burning Vesuvius, where the red lava pours down the side of the mountain; in the background one sees across the bay as far as Naples and Ischia: it is a piece full of great effect. Such a splendid landscape is not to be found in flat Denmark, where there are no great natural scenes, and yet this morning presented even there a picture with the same brilliant coloring.

We will study it. In the foreground there is a hedge of hazels, the nuts hang in great cl.u.s.ters, and contrast strongly with their bright green against the dark leaves; the blue chicory-flower and the blood-red poppy grew on the side of the ditch, upon which are some tall rails, over which the ladies have to climb: the delicate sylph-like figure is Eva.

In the field, where nothing remains but the yellow stubble, stand Otto and Wilhelm; two magnificent hounds wag their tails beside them. To the left is a little lake, thickly overgrown with reeds and water-lilies, with the yellow trollius for its border. In the front, where the wood retreats, lie, like a great stack, the piled-together rape-stalks: the man has struck fire, has kindled the outer side of them, and with a rapidity like that of the descending lava the red fire flashes up the gigantic pile. It crackles and roars within it. In a moment it is all a burning mound; the red flames flash aloft into the blue air, high above the wood which is now no longer visible. A thick black smoke ascends up into the clear air, where it rests like a cloud. Out of the flames, and even out of the smoke, the wind carries away large ma.s.ses of fire, which, crackling and cracking, are borne on to the wood, and which fill the spectator with apprehension of their falling upon the nearest trees and burning up leaf and branch.

"Let us go further off," said Sophie; "the heat is too great here."

They withdrew to the ditch.

"O, how many nuts!" exclaimed Wilhelm; "and I do not get one of them! I shall go after them if they be ripe."

"But you have grapes and other beautiful fruit!" said Eva smiling. "We have our beautiful things at home!"

"Yes, it is beautiful, very beautiful at home!" exclaimed Wilhelm; "glorious flowers, wild nuts; and there we have Vesuvius before us!" He pointed to the burning pile.

"No," said Sophie; "it seems to me much more like the pile upon which the Hindoo widow lays herself alive to be burned! That must be horrible!"

"One should certainly be very quickly dead!" said Eva.

"Would you actually allow yourself to be burned to death, if you were a Hindoo widow--after, for instance, Mr. Thostrup, or after Wilhelm," said she, with a slight embarra.s.sment, "if he lay dead in the fire?"