CHAPTER II.
AN ISLAND PLOUGHED UP.
Humility, respect, and helpful kindness were manifest in Sonnenkamp'swhole demeanor, as he extended his hand to the Professorin on hergetting out of the carriage; as he conducted her to the steamboat; ashe looked out for a seat protected from the draught and giving anuninterrupted prospect; as he supplied all her wants and asked if therewas any thing he could do for her.
The Professorin was startled when she perceived that she had forgottena book which she had laid upon the table, intending to take it withher, but had left it there. She evaded Sonnenkamp's question what wasthe name of the book, for she could well imagine, that the writings ofthe man she held in such high veneration would not be agreeable toSonnenkamp. She said in a joking way that she had lived so long in thesociety of the learned world, that even making a trip on the Rhine, ina clear, bright sunshine, she thought she must have a book with her.She must give herself up wholly to the scenery and to her own thoughts.
Sonnenkamp seated himself near her, and said in a tone of genuineemotion, that he could not but congratulate his children, nay, almostenvy them, that they were to live in the society of a woman of such ayouthful spirit.
The more he talked, the tenderer he became, and his eyes glistened asif moistened with tears. He frequently said that he could not speak ofhis youthful years, which were arid and desolate, with no gentle handof woman to soothe him with caresses. The strong man was deeply moved,as he spoke of his childhood in words that partly veiled and partlyrevealed his meaning. At last he came to the main point, composinghimself by a violent effort. The Professorin felt that she must firstinquire into the reason why Manna had became so alienated from him.Bending down his head, he proceeded to say:--
"They may have told her something that I disdained to contradict. Wereyou, honored lady, to know what it was, you would without hesitationpronounce it to be a falsehood devised by the most malignanthostility."
The Professorin desired to know what was said, but he replied that ifhe should repeat it, he should run mad here on board the boat. Hisfeatures, that had been composed and placid, were suddenly distorted ina fearful manner.
The Professorin now dwelt upon the visit that she was going to make tothe Superior, the friend of her youth, and begged Herr Sonnenkamp toavoid all direct endeavor to influence his daughter in favor ofherself.
"Children," she said, "must make their own friends, and they cannotreceive them ready made from others. One must be careful not to intrudeone's self upon them, and to wait quietly and patiently, until theycome of their own accord."
Sonnenkamp considered this so judicious, that he promised not to gowith her, in the first instance, to the island, but to remain at theinn on this side of the river until the Professorin should send forhim.
"You are as good as you are wise," he said praisingly, for he detectedas he thought in the lady's unobtrusiveness a politic motive; and hewas pleased in the notion of circumventing all cunning with a deepercunning still.
While Sonnenkamp and the Mother were sailing down the Rhine, a strangecircumstance occurred on the convent-island From one end of the year tothe other, no horse was to be seen upon the island, except when theground was ploughed. The pupils in amazement pointed out to each othera plough, which a horse was drawing up and down the extreme point ofthe island. A noble-looking farmer in a blue blouse, and with a grayhat drawn down over his eyes, was guiding the plough. The childrenstood at a distance watching the plough, as if it were some novelwonder, and looked at Manna for permission to go nearer in order toobserve it. She nodded permission, and they walked along the gravelledwalk by the side of the field. Then the ploughman, taking off his hat,made a salutation; Manna remained standing with a fixed look as if shewere under a spell. Is that not Herr von Pranken? He continued hisploughing and said nothing. As he turned the plough, to come back, helooked towards her and smiled; it was he.
"He's a splendid-looking ploughman," said one of the girls.
"And he seems so genteel," exclaimed another.
"And he has a seal ring on his finger," cried a third. "Who knows thatthis is not a knight in disguise!"
Manna called to the children to return with her. She went into hercell, from which the field could be overlooked, but she kept away fromthe window. She felt flattered that Pranken should subject himself tothe most humble condition, in order to be near her, and she feltgrateful to him for being so modest and considerate as not to speak toher. She debated with herself whether she should not mention it to theSuperior, but she came to the conclusion that she had no right tobetray Herr von Pranken's secret; besides, so far from there being anyharm in it, it was the noblest tribute of respect.
Going to the window, she saw that he kept steadily at his work, and hehad never seemed to her so pure and noble, so lovable as now, engagedin this rustic labor.
On the window-sill was a rose-bush with a late rose in full bloom.Looking up she caught sight of it, and took hold of the stem, thinkingshe would pluck and throw it to him as a sign of recognition; but justthen, a lay-sister came in and informed her that a visitor had come whoasked to see Manna. The rose remained on its stem.
Manna turned round and seemed perplexed. Pranken is still thereploughing. Could he be the one who was announced? or has the CountessBella arrived? With wavering step she descended to the reception-room.The Superior introduced to her a good-looking, portly lady, saying:--
"This is my friend, Professorin Dournay, the mother of your brother'steacher."