Die Nilbraut. English

  CHAPTER XIX.

  When Paula had eaten with Rufinus and his family after the funeralceremonies, she went into the garden with Pul and the old man--it hadbeen impossible to induce Perpetua to sit at the same table with hermistress. The sun was now low, and its level beams gave added lustreto the colors of the flowers and to the sheen of the thick, metallicfoliage of the south, which the drought and scorching heat had stillspared. A bright-hued humped ox and an ass were turning the wheel whichraised cooling waters from the Nile and poured them into a large tankfrom which they flowed through narrow rivulets to irrigate the beds.This toil was now very laborious, for the river had fallen to so low alevel as to give cause for anxiety, even at this season of extreme ebb.Numbers of birds with ruffled feathers, with little splints on theirlegs, or with sadly drooping heads, were going to roost in small cageshung from the branches to protect them from cats and other beasts ofprey; to each, as he went by, Rufinus spoke a kindly word, or chirrupedto encourage and cheer it. Aromatic odors filled the garden, and ruralsilence; every object shone in golden glory, even the black back of thenegro working at the water-wheel, and the white and yellow skin of theox; while the clear voices of the choir of nuns thrilled through theconvent-grove. Pul listened, turning her face to meet it, and crossingher arms over her heart. Her father pointed to her as he said to Paula:

  "That is where her heart is. May she ever have her God before her eyes!That cannot but be the best thing for a woman. Still, among such as weare, we must hold to the rule: Every man for his fellowman on earth, inthe name of the merciful Lord!--Can our wise and reasonable Father inHeaven desire that brother should neglect brother, or--as in our case--achild forsake its parents?"

  "Certainly not," replied Paula. "For my own part, nothing keeps me fromtaking the veil but my hope of finding my long-lost father; I, like yourPulcheria, have often longed for the peace of the cloister. How piouslyrapt your daughter stands there! What a sweet and touching sight!--In myheart all was dark and desolate; but here, among you all, it is alreadybeginning to feel lighter, and here, if anywhere, I shall recover what Ilost in my other home.--Happy child! Could you not fancy, as she standsthere in the evening light, that the pure devotion which fills her soul,radiated from her? If I were not afraid of disturbing her, and if I wereworthy, how gladly would I join my prayers to hers!"

  "You have a part in them as it is," replied the old man with a smile."At this moment St. Cecilia appears to her under the guise of yourfeatures. We will ask her--you will see."

  "No, leave her alone!" entreated Paula with a blush, and she led Rufinusaway to the other end of the garden.

  They soon reached a spot where a high hedge of thorny shrubs parted theold man's plot from that of Susannah. Rufinus here pricked up his earsand then angrily exclaimed:

  "As sure as I long to be quit of this lumber, they are cutting my hedgeagain! Only last evening I caught one of the slaves just as he was goingto work on the branches; but how could I get at the black rascal throughthe thorns? It was to make a peep-hole for curious eyes, or for spies,for the Patriarch knows how to make use of a petticoat; but I willbe even with them! Do you go on, pray, as if you had seen and heardnothing; I will fetch my whip."

  The old man hurried away, and Paula was about to obey him; but scarcelyhad he disappeared when she heard herself called in a shrill girl'svoice through a gap in the hedge, and looking round, she spied a prettyface between the boughs which had yesterday been forced asunder by aman's hands--like a picture wreathed with greenery.

  Even in the twilight she recognized it at once, and when Katharinaput her curly head forward, and said in a beseeching tone: "May I getthrough, and will you listen to me?" she gladly signified her consent.

  The water-wagtail, heedless of Paula's hand held out to help her,slipped through the gap so nimbly that it was evident that she had notlong ceased surmounting such obstacles in her games with Mary. As swiftas the wind she came down on her feet, holding out her arms to rush atPaula; but she suddenly let them fall in visible hesitancy, and drewback a step. Paula, however, saw her embarrassment; she drew the girl toher, kissed her forehead, and gaily exclaimed:

  "Trespassing! And why could you not come in by the gate? Here comes myhost with his hippopotamus thong.--Stop, stop, good Rufinus, for thebreach effected in your flowery wall was intended against me and notagainst you. There stands the hostile power, and I should be greatlysurprised if you did not recognize her as a neighbor?"

  "Recognize her?" said the old man, whose wrath was quickly appeased. "Dowe know each other, fair damsel--yes or no? It is an open question."

  "Of course!" cried Katharina, "I have seen you a hundred times from thegnat-tower."

  "You have had less pleasure than I should have had, if I had been sohappy as to see you.--We came across each other about a year ago. I wasthen so happy as to find you in my large peach-tree, which to this daytakes the liberty of growing over your garden-plot."

  "I was but a child then," laughed Katharina, who very well rememberedhow the old man, whose handsome white head she had always particularlyadmired, had spied her out among the boughs of his peach-tree and hadadvised her, with a good-natured nod, to enjoy herself there.

  "A child!" repeated Rufinus. "And now we are quite grown up and do notcare to climb so high, but creep humbly through our neighbor's hedge."

  "Then you really are strangers?" cried Paula in surprise. "And have younever met Pulcheria, Katharina?"

  "Pul?--oh, how glad I should have been to call her!" said Katharina. "Ihave been on the point of it a hundred times; for her mere appearancemakes one fall in love with her,--but my mother...."

  "Well, and what has your mother got to say against her neighbors?" askedRufinus. "I believe we are peaceable folks who do no one any harm."

  "No, no, God forbid! But my mother has her own way of viewing things;you and she are strangers still, and as you are so rarely to be seen inchurch...."

  "She naturally takes us for the ungodly. Tell her that she is mistaken,and if you are Paula's friend and you come to see her--but prettily,through the gate, and not through the hedge, for it will be closelytwined again by to-morrow morning--if you come here, I say, you willfind that we have a great deal to do and a great many creatures to nurseand care for--poor human creatures some of them, and some with fur orfeathers, just as it comes; and man serves his Maker if he only makeslife easier to the beings that come in his way; for He loves them all.Tell that to your mother, little wagtail, and come again very often."

  "Thank you very much. But let me ask you, if I may, where you heard thatodious nickname? I hate it."

  "From the same person who told you the secret that my Pulcheria iscalled Pul!" said Rufinus; he laughed and bowed and left the two girlstogether.

  "What a dear old man!" cried Katharina. "Oh, I know quite well how hespends his Days! And his pretty wife and Pul--I know them all. How oftenI have watched them--I will show you the place one day! I can see overthe whole garden, only not what goes on near the convent on the otherside of the house, or beyond those trees. You know my mother; if sheonce dislikes any one.... But Pul, you understand, would be such afriend for me!"

  "Of course she would," replied Paula. "And a girl of your age must choseolder companions than little Mary."

  "Oh, you shall not say a word against her!" cried Katharina eagerly."She is only ten years old, but many a grown-up person is not so uprightor so capable as I have found her during these last few miserable days."

  "Poor child!" said Paula stroking her hair.

  At this a bitter sob broke suddenly and passionately from Katharina; shetried with all her might to suppress it, but could not succeed. Her fitof weeping was so violent that she could not utter a word, till Paulahad led her to a bench under a spreading sycamore, had induced her withgentle force to sit down by her side, clasping her in her arms like asuffering child, and speaking to her words of comfort and encouragement.

  Birds without number were going to rest in the dense branches overhead,owl
s and bats had begun their nocturnal raids, the sky put on itsspangled glory of gold and silver stars, from the western end of thetown came the jackals' bark as they left their lurking-places among theruined houses and stole out in search of prey, the heavy dew, fallingthrough the mild air silently covered the leaves, the grass, and theflowers; the garden was more powerfully fragrant now than during theday-time, and Paula felt that it was high time to take refuge from themists that came up from the shallow stream. But still she lingered whilethe little maiden poured out all that weighed upon her, all she repentedof, believing she could never atone for it; and then all she had gonethrough, thinking it must break her heart, and all she still had to livedown and drive out of her mind.

  She told Paula how Orion had wooed her, how much she loved him, howher heart had been tortured by jealousy of her, Paula, and how she hadallowed herself to be led away into bearing false witness before thejudges. And then she went on to say it was Mary who had first opened hereyes to the abyss by which she was standing. In the afternoon after thedeath of the Mukaukas she had gone with her mother to the governor'shouse to join in her friends' lamentations. She had at once asked afterMary, but had not been allowed to see her, for she was still in bed andvery feverish. She was then on her way to the cool hall when she heardher mother's voice--not in grief, but angry and vehement--so, thinkingit would be more becoming to keep out of the way, she wandered offinto the pillared vestibule opening towards the Nile. She would not forworlds have met Orion, and was terribly afraid she might do so, but asshe went out, for it was still quite light, there she found him--and inwhat a state! He was sitting all in a heap, dressed in black, with hishead buried in his hands. He had not observed her presence; but shepitied him deeply, for though it was very hot he was trembling in everylimb, and his strong frame shuddered repeatedly. She had thereforespoken to him, begging him to be comforted, at which he had started tohis feet in dismay, and had pushed his unkempt hair back from his face,looking so pale, so desperate, that she had been quite terrified andcould not manage to bring out the consoling words she had ready. Forsome time neither of them had uttered a syllable, but at length hehad pulled himself together as if for some great deed, he came slowlytowards her and laid his hands on her shoulders with a solemn dignitywhich no one certainly had ever before seen in him. He stood gazing intoher face--his eyes were red with much weeping--and he sighed from hisvery heart the two words: "Unhappy Child!"--She could hear them stillsounding in her ears.

  And he was altered: from head to foot quite different, like a stranger.His voice, even, sounded changed and deeper than usual as he went on:

  "Child, child! Perhaps I have given much pain in my life without knowingit; but you have certainly suffered most through me, for I have madeyou, an innocent, trusting creature, my accomplice in crime. The greatsin we both committed has been visited on me alone, but the punishmentis a hundred--a thousand times too heavy!"

  "And with this," Katharina went on, "he covered his face with his hands,threw himself on the couch again, and groaned and sighed. Then he sprangup once more, crying out so loud and passionately that I felt as if Imust die of grief and pity: 'Forgive me if you can! Forgive me, wholly,freely. I want it--you must, you must! I was going to run up to himand throw my arms round him and forgive him everything, his troubledistressed me so much; but he gravely pushed me away--not roughlyor sternly, and he said that there was an end of all love-making andbetrothal between us--that I was young, and that I should be able toforget him. He would still be a true friend to me and to my mother, andthe more we required of him the more gladly would he serve us.

  "I was about to answer him, but he hastily interrupted me and saidfirmly and decisively: 'Lovable as you are, I cannot love you as youdeserve; for it is my duty to tell you, I have another and a greaterlove in my heart--my first and my last; and though once in my life Ihave proved myself a wretch, still, it was but once; and I would ratherendure your anger, and hurt both you and myself now, than continuethis unrighteous tie and cheat you and others.'--At this I was greatlystartled, and asked: 'Paula?' However, he did not answer, but bent overme and touched my forehead with his lips, just as my father often kissedme, and then went quickly out into the garden.

  "Just then my mother came up, as red as a poppy and panting for breath:she took me by the hand without a word, dragged me into the chariotafter her, and then cried out quite beside herself--she could not evenshed a tear for rage: 'What insolence! what unheard-of behavior--How canI find the heart to tell you, poor sacrificed lamb...'"

  "And she would have gone on, but that I would not let her finish; I toldher at once that I knew all, and happily I was able to keep quite calm.I had some bad hours at home; and when Nilus came to us yesterday, afterthe opening of the will, and brought me the pretty little gold box withturquoises and pearls that I have always admired, and told me that thegood Mukaukas had written with his own hand, in his last will, thatit was to be given to me I his bright little 'Katharina,' my motherinsisted on my not taking it and sent it back to Neforis, though Ibegged and prayed to keep it. And of course I shall never go to thathouse again; indeed my mother talks of quitting Memphis altogether andsettling in Constantinople or some other city under Christian rule.'Then our nice, pretty house must be given up, and our dear, lovelygarden be sold to the peasant folk, my mother says. It was just the samea year and a half ago with Memnon's palace. His garden was turned into acorn-field, and the splendid ground-floor rooms, with their mosaics andpictures, are now dirty stables for cows and sheep, and pigs are fed inthe rooms that belonged to Hathor and Dorothea. Good Heavens! And theywere my clearest friends! And I am never to play with Mary any more; andmother has not a kind word for any living soul, hardly even for me, andmy old nurse is as deaf as a mole! Am I not a really miserable, lonelycreature? And if you, even you, will have nothing to say to me, who isthere in all Memphis whom I can trust in? But you will not be so cruel,will you? And it will not be for long, for my mother really means to goaway. You are older than I am, of course, and much graver and wiser...."

  "I will be kind to you, child; but try to make friends with Pulcheria!"

  "Gladly, gladly. But then my mother! I should get on very well by myselfif it were not... Well, you yourself heard what Orion said to me, thattime in the avenue. He surely loved me a little! What sweet, tendernames he gave me then. Oh God! no man can speak like that to any onehe is not fond of!--And he is rich himself; it cannot have been only myfortune that bewitched him. And does he look like a man who would allowhimself to be parted from a girl by his mother, whether he would or no?"

  "He was always fond of me I think; but then, afterwards, he rememberedwhat a high position he had to fill and regarded me as too little andtoo childish. Oh, how many tears I have shed over being so absurdlylittle! A Water-wagtail--that is what I shall always be. Your old hostcalled me so; and if a man like Orion feels that he must have a statelywife I can hardly blame him. That other one whom he thinks he lovesbetter than he does me is tall and beautiful and majestic--like you; andI have always told myself that his future wife ought to look like you.It is all over between him and me, and I will submit humbly; but at thesame time I cannot help thinking that when he came home he thought mepretty and attractive, and had a real fancy and liking for me. Yes,it was so, it certainly was so!--But then he saw that other one, andI cannot compare with her. She is indeed the woman he wants,--and thatother, Paula, is yourself. Yes, indeed, you yourself; an inner voicetells me so. And I tell you truly, you may quite believe me: it is apain no doubt, but I can be glad of it too. I should hate any mere girlto whom he held out his hand--but, if you are that other--and if you arehis wife..."

  "Nonsense," exclaimed Paula decidedly. "Consider what you are saying.When Orion tempted you to perjure yourself, did he behave as my friendor as my foe, my bitterest and most implacable enemy?"

  "Before the judges, to be sure..." replied the girl looking downthoughtfully. But she soon looked up again, fixed her eyes on Paula'sface with a sparkling, determi
ned glance, and frankly and unhesitatinglyexclaimed: "And you?--In spite of it all he is so handsome, so clever,so manly. You can hardly help it--you love him!"

  Paula withdrew her arm, which had been round Katharina, and answeredcandidly.

  "Until to-day, at the funeral, I hated and abominated him; but there,by his father's tomb, he struck me as a new man, and I found it easy toforgive him in my heart."

  "Then you mean to say that you do not love him?" urged Katharina,clasping her friend's round arm with her slender fingers.

  Paula started to feel how icy cold her hand was. The moon was up, thestars rose higher and higher, so, simply saying: "Come away," she rose."It must be within an hour of midnight," she added. "Your mother will beanxious about you."

  "Only an hour of midnight!" repeated the girl in alarm. "Good Heavens, Ishall have a scolding! She is still playing draughts with the Bishop,no doubt, as she does every evening. Good-bye then for the present. Theshortest way is through the hedge again."

  "No," said Paula firmly, "you are no longer a child; you are grown up,and must feel it and show it. You are not to creep through the bushes,but to go home by the gate. Rufinus and I will go with you and explainto your mother..."

  "No, no!" cried Katharina in terror. "She is as angry with you as she iswith them. Only yesterday she forbid..."

  "Forbid you to come to me?" asked Paula. "Does she believe..."

  "That it was for your sake that Orion.... Yes, she is only too glad tolay all the blame on you. But now that I have talked to you I.... Look,do you see that light? It is in her sitting-room."

  And, before Paula could prevent her, she ran to the hedge and slippedthrough the gap as nimbly as a weasel.

  Paula looked after her with mingled feelings, and then went back to thehouse, and to bed. Katharina's story kept her awake for a long time, andthe suspicion--nay almost the conviction--that it was herself, indeed,who had aroused that "great love" in Orion's heart gave her no rest. Ifit were she? There, under her hand was the instrument of revenge on themiscreant; she could make him taste of all the bitterness he had brewedfor her aching spirit. But which of them would the punishment hurt mostsorely: him or herself? Had not the little girl's confidences revealeda world of rapture to her and her longing heart? No, no. It would be toohumiliating to allow the same hand that had smitten her so ruthlessly touplift her to heaven; it would be treason against herself.

  Slumber overtook her in the midst of these conflicting feelings andthoughts, and towards morning she had a dream which, even by daylight,haunted her and made her shudder.

  She saw Orion coming towards her, as pale as death, robed in mourning,pacing slowly on a coal-black horse; she had not the strength to fly,and without speaking to her or looking at her, he lifted her high in theair like a child, and placed her in front of him on the horse. She putforth all her strength to get free and dismount, but he clasped her withboth arms like iron clamps and quelled her efforts. Life itself wouldnot have seemed too great a price for escape from this constraint; but,the more wildly she fought, the more closely she was held by the silentand pitiless horseman. At their feet flowed the swirling river, butOrion did not seem to notice it, and without moving his lips, he coollyguided the steed towards the water. Beside herself now with horror anddread, she implored him to turn away; but he did not heed her, and wenton unmoved into the midst of the stream. Her terror increased to anagonizing pitch as the horse bore her deeper and deeper into the water;of her own free will she threw her arms round the rider's neck; hispaleness vanished, his cheeks gained a ruddy hue, his lips sought hersin a kiss; and, in the midst of the very anguish of death, she felt athrill of rapture that she had never known before. She could have goneon thus for ever, even to destruction; and, in fact, they were stillsinking--she felt the water rising breast high, but she cared not. Nota word had either of them spoken. Suddenly she felt urged to break thesilence, and as if she could not help it she asked: "Am I the other?" Atthis the waves surged down on them from all sides; a whirlpool draggedaway the horse, spinning him round, and with him Orion and herself, ashrill blast swept past them, and then the current and the waves, theroaring of the whirlpool, the howling of the storm--all at once andtogether, as with one voice, louder than all else and filling her ears,shouted: "Thou!"--Only Orion remained speechless. An eddy caught thehorse and sucked him under, a wave carried her away from him, she wassinking, sinking, and stretched out her arms with longing.--A colddew stood on her brow as she slept, and the nurse, waking her from heruneasy dream, shook her head as she said:

  "Why, child? What ails you? You have been calling Orion again and again,at first in terror and then so tenderly.--Yes, believe me, tenderly."