CHAPTER III.
DRINKING NEW WINE.
"Before people have fairly done shaking hands, they say, 'Let usdrink.' It must be the river there that makes you long so to quenchyour thirst."
So spoke Eric to the tall, fair youth of his own age, sitting opposite,who had placed his nicely gloved hand upon a brown spaniel whose headlay in his lap. The dog frequently looked up to Eric, whose deep,musical voice perhaps produced an impression upon the creature.
"Here is the list of wines. What year and what vintage do you prefer?Shall we take new wine, still lively and fermenting?" "Yes, new wine,and from the mountain here upon which the sun lies so cheerily, andwhere the cuckoo calls from the wood;--wine native to the soil, andblood-relation of this beautiful region."
Pranken in sharp, military accent gave the order to the waiter,--"Abottle of Anslese." The wine came, and was poured out golden into thesparkling glasses; the two men touched glasses and drank. They satamong the vines by the shore, where the refreshing landscape stretcheditself out over green islands in the river, over gleaming habitations,over vineyards and mountains.
The boats by the shore were still, for the swell made by the steamboathad subsided; here and there the distant rumbling of a railway trainwas heard; on the smooth stream, in which the white clouds of heavenmirrored themselves, beams of the noonday sun sparkled, and in thefoliage of the blossoming elder the nightingale sang.
"This is life!" said Eric, extending his arms. "After a day ofloneliness amidst the confused whirl of thoughts and of people, to meetthus unexpectedly an old acquaintance is indeed like home; and let metell you, moreover, that I look upon this meeting as a good omen."
Otto von Pranken nodded acquiescingly. In the first surprise, he had,perhaps, given Eric a warmer welcome than their acquaintance warranted;but now that Eric made no assumption of intimacy he nodded, wellpleased. Eric has the tact to know his place; it's well. Prankenimmediately drew off his glove, and reaching out his hand to Eric,asked, "Are you taking a pleasure-tour?"
"No, I am not in the situation, nor would this be the fitting time todo so. You probably do not know that my father died two months ago.""Indeed, indeed! and I shall be forever grateful to our good Professor;the little that I learned at the military school--and it is littleenough--I owe altogether to him. Ah! what patience and what unremittingzeal your good father had! Let us pledge his memory." Their glassesclinked. "When I am dead,'" said Eric, and his voice had a tone of deepemotion, "I should like that my son should thus with a companion pledgemy memory in the bright noonday."
"Ah! to die!" Pranken wished to turn the subject. "If I must die,that's enough, without knowing what is said of me afterwards. It is ina high degree offensive to me, that they have placed their buryingground in the midst of the vineyard yonder."
Eric made no reply, looking with fixed gaze before him, and listeningto the cuckoo's voice calling at that moment from the churchyard. "Areyou an agriculturist?" he asked, as if summoning together his scatteredthoughts. "A sort of one; I have taken off, I don't know for how longit will be, my lieutenant's uniform, and mounted the high jack-boots;but I am bored by the one as much as by the other." He took hisnail-cleaner out of his pocket, and worked away industriously at hisnails; then with his pocket-brush he smoothed down again his carefullyparted but thin hair, occasionally looking up to his companionopposite.
The two, sitting there for a little while without speaking, sharplyinspected each other. Two awkward people, who are placed in a positionof helpless antagonism, become mutually embarrassed; two clever people,who know each other's cleverness, are like two fencers, who, familiarwith each other's ward and pass, will not risk a stroke or thrust.Pranken bent over his glass, inhaled the bouquet of the wine, and said,at length, half smiling, "Perhaps you will now abandon your lateCommunistic views."
"Communistic! I had no idea that you, like so many others, cover upeverything unpleasant with that convenient formula of excommunication,'Communism.' I should like to be a Communist. I mean that I should liketo see in Communism a form of organization adapted to the wants ofsociety, which it is not, and never can be. We must take some othermethod than this, to get rid of the existing barbarism which compelsour fellow human beings to be without the most common necessities oflife. It is a bitter drop in my glass, that, while I can here atleisure drink this mountain-wine, yonder are poor hard-driven laborerswho can never taste of it."
"To-day is a holiday, and no one labors then," said Pranken, with alaugh. Already, in this first meeting, the contrast of these two youngmen was plainly to be seen. Eric also laughed at this unexpected turnfrom his comrade; but he was mature enough not to make a personalmatter out of a difference of theory. He therefore came back to neutralground, and the conversation flowed on quietly in recollections of thepast, and thoughts of the future.
In their carriage and gait, the military training of the two young menwas plainly to be seen; but in Eric the stiffness was tempered by asort of artistic grace. Pranken was elegant, Eric noble and refined;every tone and movement of Pranken bespoke attention; but his demeanorhad that cool insolence, or--if that is too harsh a word--impertinence,which regards every one outside of one's circle as non-existent, or atleast as having no right to exist.
Eric had an equally good figure, but he was more easy and dignified.Eric's voice was a fine, deep baritone, while Pranken's was a tenor.Their different characters could be seen also in their way of speaking.Eric pronounced every word and letter distinctly; Pranken, on the otherhand, spoke with a lazy drawl, as if the vowels and consonants were toomuch for him, and as if he must avoid all straining of the organs ofspeech; the words dropped, as it were, out of his lips, and yet heliked to talk, and made excellent points. Pranken's remarks wereforcible, and came out in jets, like the short canter peculiar to theRoyal bodyguard. When talking upon the most ordinary occurrence, hismanner was somewhat rattling and noisy, like one handling hisshoulder-belt, and joining or leaving a convivial company. Eric hadthought more than he had talked. A secluded student in the almostcloister-like retirement of home, this bearing was wholly novel andstrange to him.
"Herr Baron," said the waiter, as he brought in a bottle of native,sparkling wine, "your coachman wishes to know if he shall unharness thehorses."
"No," he replied; and while he was turning the bottle in thewine-cooler he added to Eric: "I dislike to interrupt the brief joy ofthis meeting with you. Ah! you have no idea what a terrible bore thisextolled poetry of rural life is!" Pouring out a glass from theuncorked bottle, he said laughing, "Compost, and again compost, is theword. The compost-heap is an Olympus, and the God enthroned upon it iscalled Jupiter Ammonia." Pranken laughed aloud at his own wittyoutburst, then drank off his glass, and complacently twirled with bothhands the ends of his moustache.
Eric led the conversation back to the beauty of the Rhine-life, butPranken interrupted by saying, "If now somebody would only take off thepaint from this lying Lorelei, with her song about the beauty of lifeon the Rhine! So the poets always speak of the dewy morning, and we hadto-day a blast from the mountains, as if the angels in heaven had spiltall their milk into the fire."
Eric could not help laughing; sipping at his glass, he said, "But thejoy of the wine!" "O, yes," replied Pranken, "the old topers drink as amatter of business, but without any poetry. They sit together by thehour, always the same set, and the same half-dozen anecdotes on hand;or they interchange a superannuated jest, and then go home with redface, and staggering feet, bellowing forth a song; and that theycall Rhine joyousness! The one really merry thing in this wholeRhine-delusion is the landlord's garland." "What's that?" "When therespectable godfather tailor or shoemaker has laid in a cask of choicevintage, more than he can or wishes to drink, he hangs upon his house agreen garland; and the old German family room, with its hospitableDutch stove covered with green branches, and its gray cat under thebench, is turned into a bar-room. They first finish up Smith street,then Hare street,
Church street, Salt street, and Capuchin street. Theydrink the health of their own wine; this is the only mistress."
"Let us, too, rejoice in our wine," said Eric. "See how the sun stillglows in the noble juice which it has so joyfully smiled upon, and sodiligently ripened. I drink to thee, O Sun, past and present." With arapidity that seemed foreign from his ordinarily quiet mood, he emptiedthe glass.
"I have always thought," replied Pranken, "that you were a poet. Ah, Ienvy you; I should like to have the ability to write a satirical poem,so peppered that the whole world would burn its tongue with it." Ericsmiled, saying that he had himself once thought that his vocation wasto be a poet; but that he had perceived his mistake, and was nowresolved to devote himself to some practical calling. "Yes," he said,taking the newspaper out of his pocket, "you can perhaps render me aservice that will determine my whole life." "Gladly, if it is notagainst--"
"Don't be alarmed, for it has nothing to do with theories of right, orpolitical matters at all. You can perhaps help me to an introduction."
"In love then? The handsome Eric Dournay, the Adonis of the garrison,wants some one to do his wooing?"
"Nothing of that kind. I only want a situation as private tutor. Lookat this advertisement: 'I desire for my son, fifteen years of age, atutor of scientific education and high-breeding, who will undertake togive him such training as shall fit him for a high station. Salary tobe fixed by mutual agreement. A pension for life after the conclusionof the engagement. Address and references to be left at the railroadstation at ----, on the Rhine.'"
"I know about this advertisement, and even had a hand in writing it. Imust confess that we hit upon something rather unusual in the choice ofthe expression 'high-breeding.'"
"Is a man of rank to be understood?"
"Certainly. I have no need of defending myself against the charge ofwhat the newspaper hacks call _feudalism_. In this case the pointinsisted on is, that a tutor in a middle-class family, and especiallyfor a self-willed boy, must be a man of unimpeachable position."
"Certainly, that is all right and proper. Perhaps, although I'm not aBaron, I have an unimpeachable position. I received the title of doctora few days ago."
Pranken gave him a condescending nod of congratulation, then addedquickly,--"And do you leave entirely out of sight that you quit thearmy with the rank of Captain? I should lay special stress on themilitary training. But no, you are not fit for a bear-trainer! The boyis as untameable and crafty as an American redskin, and he knows justwhere to lay hold upon the scalp-lock in every character, as he hasalready proved on half a dozen tutors." "That would only give anadditional charm to the attempt." "And do you know that MassaSonnenkamp is a millionaire, and the heir knows it?"
"That doesn't alarm me, but rather tempts me on." "Well; I will takeyou myself to the mysterious man. I have the good luck to stand high inhis favor. But no. Still better, you shall go with me first to mybrother-in-law's estate. You must remember my sister Bella.""Perfectly, and I accept your hospitality. But I would rather youshould announce my visit to Herr Sonnenkamp--it seems to me I haveheard that name before, but no matter--and let me go to him alone."Pranken threw a questioning glance upon Eric, who continued: "I knowhow to appreciate your ready friendliness; but a stranger can neverquite do himself justice in presence of a third person."
Pranken smiled at Eric's quickness, feeling a sort of pride in havingso cultivated a man under his patronage. He took out his pocket-book,and sat for a while with his silver pencil-case pressed against hislips; the doubt arose whether he were doing wisely to recommend Eric tothe position; would it not be better to put him off, and bring forwarda man who would be quite under his own influence? but as Eric wouldmake the application for himself, and would, most probably, receive theappointment, it would be better to establish a claim to his gratitude.And in the midst of his hesitation a certain kindly feeling made itselffelt; it was pleasant to be able to be a benefactor, and he was for amoment happy in the thought.
He wrote directly on a card to Herr Sonnenkamp, begging him to make noengagement, as a highly educated gentleman, formerly an artilleryofficer, was about to apply in person for the situation. He carefullyavoided speaking as a personal friend of the applicant, as he wished totake no decided step without his sister's approval.
The card was sent off immediately, and Pranken played for some minuteswith the india-rubber strap of his pocket-book, before putting it backinto his pocket.