CHAPTER XIII.
THE LILY OF THE VALLEY.
Roland rubbed his eyes; before him stood a child, a little girl in asnow-while dress and blue sash. Her face was rosy, great blue eyesbeamed out from it, and long golden curls hung loose over her neck. Inher hand she held a bunch of wild-flowers.
Griffin stood in front of the child, and kept her from coming nearer.
"Back, Griffin!" cried Roland, rising; the dog fell behind his master.
"This is the German forest!" said the child with a foreign accent, anda voice that might belong to a princess in a fairy tale. "This is theGerman forest! I have only been gathering flowers. Are you the forestprince?"
"No, but who are you?"
"I have come from America. My uncle brought me here this morning, andnow I am to stay in Germany."
"Come, Lilian! Where are you staying so long?" cried a man's voice fromthe road.
Roland saw through the trees an open carriage, and a tall, statelygentleman with snow-white hair.
"I'm coming directly," answered the child; "I have some beautifulflowers."
"Here, take this one from me," said Roland, gathering a full-blown lilyof the valley.
The little girl threw down all the flowers which she held, tookRoland's, cried, "Good-bye," and ran to the carriage. The man liftedher in as she pointed back to the wood; the carriage rolled away, andRoland stood once more alone.
Whoever could then have looked down from the vault of heaven would haveseen a marvel, for at the very moment when the child was talking withRoland, Sonnenkamp stood on the terrace, lost in thoughts which madehim shiver in the frosty morning air.
Roland pressed his hand to his brow. Had it really happened, or had heonly dreamed? He still heard the roll of the carriage in the distance,and the plucked flowers on the ground bore witness that he was livingin the actual world. But had the child really said that she was fromAmerica? Why had he not followed her then? Why had he not spoken to theold man? And now no one could tell him who they were, and whither thechild had gone.
For a while Roland gazed at the flowers before him, but picked up noneof them. Griffin barked at him, as if to say, Yes, and men assert thatthere are no more miracles! He sniffed round the gathered flowers, thenran off on the track of the child and of the carriage, as if he wishedto fulfil his master's desire to detain the people, that he might talkwith them. Roland whistled and called him; Griffin came, and Rolandreproved him:--
"You don't deserve to have any sausage, you are so unfaithful."
Griffin lay down beseechingly at his feet; he could not explain howgood his intention had been.
"Well, now we will go," said Roland. And they took up their marchagain.
He heard the whistle of a locomotive in the distance, and went in thatdirection. The wood was soon passed, and the road led again throughvineyards. On a side-path Roland saw several women carrying powderedslate, from a great heap, into a newly-planted vineyard. On its border,near a hedge, burned a fire, close to which stood pots, whose contentsan old woman was stirring with a dry bough. Roland stopped, and the oldwoman called out to ask him to join them; he went up to the group, andsaw that coffee was boiling. The other women, young and old, camenearer, and there was much jesting and laughter. They turned theirbaskets up and sat upon them; such a seat was also prepared for Roland,and a sort of cushion placed upon it, as they asked him whether he werenot a prince. Roland answered, no; but it flattered him to be taken fora prince in this way; he was very condescending, and knew how to jokewith his companions. An old vine-dresser, the director of the work,told Roland, whom he held in some regard as being of the masculinegender, that he drank no coffee: it was a stupid custom, which sentmoney out of the country to America, never to come back.
Roland was struck by this second mention of America. The whole partylistened attentively when he told them that it was not coffee, butsugar, which came from America.
"And our sugar," said the old woman, "has all staid in America, for wehaven't any."
The first cup, and the cream off the milk, were given to Roland, with abit of black bread. He wished to give the people something in payment,but now discovered that he had not his porte-monnaie about him. He knewthat he had had it in the inn; the knavish-looking hostler mustcertainly have stolen it from him. He soon overcame his trouble aboutthe lost money, however, and told the people that, some time or other,he would show kindness to a stranger, in return for what he hadreceived.
He wandered on. He had learned what it was to enjoy the kindness andbounty of poor men, now that he was himself poor and helpless; that washis best experience.
The world is beautiful and men are good, even if a hostler could notresist a well-filled purse. With these cheering thoughts, he went onhis way and soon reached the railway-station. Ha had carefully avoidedany of the nearer stations, where he was known and might easily betraced; he wished, after making a circuit, to take the cars at adistant point.
Here Roland was accosted, like an old acquaintance, by a man inworn-out clothes, and with one boot and one old slipper on his feet.
"Good-morning, my dear Baron! good-morning!" cried this shabby-lookingpersonage, coming close up to him.
It was doubly disagreeable in this fresh morning, after such a night,to come within the atmosphere of this man so impregnated with brandy,who was excessively confiding in his manner towards Roland. A railwayofficial, in the most polite manner, begged the half-drunken fellow toleave the traveller in peace; he nodded knowingly to Roland from adistance, as if there were some important secret between them.Roland learned that the man belonged to a respected family of thenobility: his relations had wished to help him, and had made him anannual allowance, but it was of no use. Now he was boarding with abaggage-master, and his whole amusement was in the railroad. Every oneshowed him due respect, because he was a baron, and very much to bepitied.
Roland shrank from the man as if he were a ghost. The excitement of thenight, and of all which he had been through, was still affectinghim, yet the thought was present to him how strange it was that ahalf-witted, half-intoxicated man should be so respectfully treated,simply because he was a baron.
Roland succeeded in borrowing money for his journey from the restoratorat the station, with whom he left his diamond ring in pawn. He bought aticket for the university-town, and at last took his seat in the car,where he could not refrain from saying to a fellow-passenger,--
"Ah! it is good that we are off."
His neighbor stared at him; he could not know how happy it made thesorely weary boy, to be carried along towards Eric without any effortof his own.
"Where lies your way, Herr Baron?" asked the neighbor,
Roland named his destination, but looked in surprise at the man whocalled him Baron; had he become one in the course of the night? At ajunction, where a new set of officials took charge of the train, hisneighbor, who was leaving it, said to one of them,--
"Attend to the young Baron, who is sitting there."
Roland was pleased to be so called, and a peculiar feeling came overhim of the satisfaction one must have in being really a baron; then onewould have a lasting title with lasting honors in the world. Thethought only passed through his mind, and quickly vanished, as he begandirectly to imagine Eric's pleasure at seeing him; his face glowed withimpatience and longing.
Suddenly a painful thought struck him. Where had he left the dog? Hehad quite lost or forgotten him. But on rolled the cars throughvalleys, cuts, and tunnels, and it seemed to Roland a year, since heleft his home.
Not far from the university, where the road again divided, somestudents entered the train. They soon let their fellow-passengersunderstand that they had performed the great exploit of drinking aMay-bowl at their fathers' expense: for anybody could drink nativewine. They had also brought some provision into the car, and in theirgenerosity or their ostentation they wanted Roland to drink with them,but he declined with as much modesty as decision.
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Twilight had gathered when they reached the university-town.
Roland asked for Doctor Dournay; one of the students, a fine-lookingyouth who had kept aloof from the noisy party, told him to come withhim, as he lived near the widow of the professor. As Roland went withhim, a strange fear came upon him: what if he could not find Eric? orif Eric would have nothing more to do with him? How much might havehappened since they parted!
With beating heart he ascended the steep, dark, wooden staircase. Atthe top, the door of a room opened, and at the door stood a woman, whoasked,--
"Whom do you wish to see?"
"The Herr Captain Dournay."
"He is away from home."