CHAPTER I.
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE EXECUTION.
On the journey to the capital, Sonnenkamp and Pranken were astonishedat Roland's fluency and mental activity; he was the only one whoexpressed himself freely, for both Sonnenkamp and Pranken could notentirely repress a feeling of anxiety. They appeared to be soconfidential and open with each other, and yet Sonnenkamp wascontinually asking himself: Do you know it? and Pranken, on the otherhand: Do you know that I know it?
But neither of them spoke out. How were they to do it? Pranken wanted,when the revelation took place, to appear as the innocent, theignorant, the deluded individual; he had been imposed upon, he as wellas the rest of the world, and more than all, the Prince himself. ThePrince had conferred the title of nobility--how was Pranken to dootherwise than confide in the man!
Sonnenkamp on the contrary was undecided, and he was glad that Prankenwas determining everything; it was no longer a question of will, allwas settled and must proceed.
He looked through the coach-door every now and then, and put out hishand, as if he were going to lay hold of the handle, spring out andflee. What a bold game it was he was trying his hand at! He was angrywith himself that, close upon the last critical moment, he allowed afeeling of apprehension to come over him. He could not help declaringto Pranken that he felt very much excited. Pranken thought this quitenatural, for elevation to the nobility is no small affair. And now, inthe conversation that took place, Sonnenkamp discovered the cause ofhis timidity. Those Huguenots, mother, aunt, and son, with theirdouble-distilled transcendental notions, had brought around him anelement of weakness; it would be as well to throw them aside, politely,of course, but they must go their way, like instruments that have donetheir work, like paid-off workmen.
In this thought of casting something from him, there was a sense ofpower which restored him to himself once more.
It was not merely allowing others to act for him, he was an activeagent himself; he let the puppets dance, for all men are puppets to himwho knows how to govern them. He looked smilingly over at Pranken; thisman, too, was his puppet now. He began to whistle merrily butinaudibly.
It was late in the evening when they reached the capital. Roland wentto bed directly. Pranken took his leave, saying that he had to make anecessary call.
"Don't forget that you are a bridegroom," Sonnenkamp cried out afterhim with a laugh.
For the first time in his life was Pranken troubled by such a jest; ithurt him because it came from Manna's father, and because he was reallygoing on an errand very serious and moral in its nature and object; hewas going to the house of the Dean of the cathedral.
The house was in the garden behind the cathedral, hidden from the wholeworld, and amidst a quiet that was never broken by the bustle of thecapital.
Pranken rang, a servant opened the door, and Pranken was not a littleastonished at hearing himself instantly called by name. The servant wasthe soldier whom he had employed for some little time as an attendant.He received Pranken's commission to inform him personally the nextmorning, at the Victoria Hotel, whether the Dean could receive himalone at eleven o'clock.
Pranken turned away, and he smiled, when, still thinking of hisfather-in-law's admonition, he stopped before a certain house. He knewit well, the pretty, quiet house that he himself had once furnished,the carpeted stairs, the banisters with their stuffed velvet, andeverything so cosy, the bell up-stairs with its single note, the coolante-chamber full of green plants, the parlor so cheerful, the carpets,and the furniture of the same pattern of silk throughout, a greenground and yellow garland. Pranken liked the national colors even here.In the corner stands an alabaster angel holding in its hand a freshbunch of flowers every day. Many a time too, the angel has to bear awoman's jaunty hat, and many a time too a man's hat. And then thedoor-curtains. Who is laughing behind them? No, he passes on.
He stopped at a shop window with large panes of glass; when going tothat cosy little house, he had always brought with him from this shopsome trifle, some comical little thing--there are many new things ofthat kind in it now; he enters and purchases the very latest.
The young salesman looks at him inquiringly, Pranken nods and says:--
"You can show me everything."
And then the hidden treasures of the establishment are shown to him; hedoes not take anything, however, but says that he will make a purchasesome other time, and goes off with his trifle.
No, it is only for a jest, for a farewell. He wishes simply to asklittle Nelly what people are saying of him; he is vexed at his beingtroubled about the matter, and still he is tempted to make the inquiry.
He is not aware that he has rung--he goes up-stairs--he feels for thekey in his pocket--he has quite forgotten that he hasn't one any more.
The door is opened, the maid looks at him with astonishment. Nobody isin. A lamp of pale red glass is burning in the balcony room; the littlealabaster statue is smiling; Pranken has another lamp brought to him;he will wait. He looks through the rooms, he recognizes the chairs, thesofas, everything is still as he had arranged it.
A perfume strange to him pervades the room; it must be the fashionnow,--one always falls a little behind the times in the country.
The clock of the cathedral strikes, the theatre performances must beover. On the table lie photograph albums; Pranken looks through them,he searches for his own picture; it is no longer there, but there areother faces that he does not know. He shuts the albums.
There is a book lying on the table, too; flowers culled from the Germanpoets "for women by a woman's hand." Pranken begins to read it. Theyare strange beings, these poets! He stands up by the fireplace, glowingcoals are sparkling in it; but really there was no fire-place, and noglowing coals; for they never burned, but were always piled up in thatway; fire-place and coals were only an elegant ornament of the room.
The cathedral clock strikes again; still no one comes. At lengthPranken takes out his card, and leaves it on the bouquet which thealabaster statue holds in its hand; he leaves the place. It is betterso. You have acted bravely, as you meant to do--of course.
He smiled at his virtue.
Pah! He would have to laugh and give a little play to his exuberance ofspirit again one of these days; this everlasting morality begins to betiresome. But Manna----
All at once Pranken felt a pang shoot through his heart, as if he hadinflicted a wound on Manna.
He shook his head, and laughed outright at the childishness into whichhe had fallen. And still he could not shake off an impression, that atthat hour something was happening to Manna; he knew not what it was,but the feeling possessed him.
He went on hurriedly.
The military club house was still brilliantly lighted, but Prankenpassed it by too. He turned back to the hotel. With great satisfactionhe retired to rest without having again seen Sonnenkamp. He wanted toread a little while in the little book that was quite filled with apiny odor from the twig which lay in it; the twig was bare, but thefalling leaves were preserved like a relic. But he could not endure thewords of the book, he felt a certain awe of it to-night.
While Pranken was out in the town, Sonnenkamp grew discontented atbeing alone. He wanted to be with new people, live men, who coulddivert his thoughts. He sent for the Cabinetsrath.
The latter came soon, and Sonnenkamp sat down well pleased by his side,and asked what it meant that the Prince had not sent his patent, butchose to give it to him in person.
With much freedom and sarcasm, the Cabinetsrath ironically expressedhis admiration of his gracious master, and described his character. Hesaid that no one could really understand a ruler who wished to rulewithout advice, particularly in the exercise of that prerogative whichhad been allowed to remain in his hands without the interference of theChamber of Deputies,--the conferring of orders and of nobility.Sonnenkamp heard with astonishment how the Prince designated everythingas "mine"; my manufacturers, my university, my freemason lodge, myagricu
lturalists, my Chamber of Deputies. The Prince had the best willin the world, but he lived in continual fear of the democrats,communists and liberals, whom he classed together; he was convinced,that every one who did not coincide with the government was a walkingbarricade from behind which shots might be fired at any moment. Hewould like to have everything go well with all men, and he had a veryfine sentiment which a chamberlain had once composed for him, and whichhe brought out in moments of elevated feeling. If I knew that all menwould be bettered by it, I would renounce the throne and do away withthe civil-list. But as he was sure that all men would not be betteredby it, he could remain as he was, in quiet possession of both. He hadtwo hobbies, the theatre and the welfare of the capital. He liked tohave very wealthy people attracted to the capital, so that a good dealof money might be made out of them. And he had done a great thing, hehad modified essentially the strict rules of ceremony; strangers whoformerly were, without exception, debarred of the privilege ofappearing at court, had access to it now, if they only spent a gooddeal of money in the city and were presented by their ambassadors. ThePrince does this out of a pure desire for the welfare of his people,for he called all the inhabitants of the capital "my people," even theunyielding democrats contained in it; they had unpleasantpeculiarities, it is true; but they were still "my people."
The Prince took a special interest in Sonnenkamp, because he had beentold that the latter was intending to build a large palace for hiswinter-residence in the capital in such a situation that it would be anornament to the castle park, having it front on an avenue which atpresent led into a new part of the city. The Prince flattered himselfthat this would be of great benefit to his people.
The Cabinetsrath related, besides, that Sonnenkamp's affair had taken aparticularly decisive turn in consequence of Clodwig's having, in theexpression of his opinion, said that, aside from the injudiciousness ofcreating a new nobility, it appeared doubtful to him whether Germansovereigns individually possessed the right to do it. The Prince wasbeside himself at this remark of the old diplomat, whom he had alwaysregarded as a concealed democrat; and so, partly in consequence ofClodwig's boldness, Sonnenkamp's affair was decided hastily and withoutfurther ado.
Sonnenkamp heard all this with delight, and the Cabinetsrath cautionedhim expressly to remember that the Prince was really very modest, andnot merely modest in words; he liked to say that he was not a man ofgenius, and it was very hard to find the best bearing to use towardshim. The Prince was offended by the flattery, if any one praised himand combated his opinion of himself, and still it would not do tosupport him in his modesty. Sonnenkamp was advised to say as little aspossible; he might exaggerate the apprehension he really felt: timiditywould find favor with their gracious master, who was always secretlypleased at inspiring awe.
Sonnenkamp was quite calm once more. When the Cabinetsrath was gone, herang, and ordered the newspaper. He read it entirely through, even theadvertisements; this put him upon another course of thought. Again andagain he read the official news at the head of the paper, officialappointments, military promotions, and grants of pardon; such thingswere sprinkled along through the whole year after the granddistribution of orders was over. He was already thinking to himself howit would appear in that part of the paper in the morning, that HisHighness had, in his graciousness, seen fit to elevate Herr JamesSonnenkamp and his family, under the title of Baron von Lichtenburg, tothe hereditary dignity of nobles. And, what was more, the newspaper ofProfessor Crutius must publish it.
Proud and erect, he strode for a long time up and down the chamber.Then he recollected that the Cabinetsrath had informed him that thePrince liked certain ceremonies, and that he would have to make oathwith his bare hand. He looked at his hand. How would it be if thePrince asked about the ring on his thumb?
"Your Highness, that is an iron ring that I have worn since myeighteenth year," said Sonnenkamp suddenly, as if he were standing inthe presence of the Prince.
But then again, he asked himself why he should expose himself to thequestion. It might still be possible to take the ring off; the scarcould no longer be visible. With burning face he put his hand in wateruntil it was nearly numb, but the ring did not come off. He rang; Lootzcame, and he ordered him to bring ice. He held his hand on the ice, thering at last loosened about the thumb; it rubbed hard over the knuckle,but at last came off. Sonnenkamp examined the sear that had beenconcealed by the ring. Could any one now tell that it had been left bya bite?
He was enraged with himself that he had awakened this remembranceto-day. Of what use was it?
He rang for Lootz; he wanted to ask him what he would take the scar onhis thumb to be. But when Lootz came he let the question go, for itmight have excited curiosity; he gave the steward a commission for themorrow, and finally sought rest in sleep. He did not find it for a longwhile; for it seemed to him as if a chilly current of air werecontinually circulating about the bare thumb. When he doubled up hisfist he felt it no longer, and so he finally went to sleep with hisfist clinched.