"Perhaps Cloten," said the other.

"It may be, but I cannot swear to it. Nor is it said what family his wife belonged to; she is simply called a n.o.ble damsel."

"But I thought she was made from the rib of man?"

"Why, you would not believe that stupid nonsense, Cloten? She is expressly called a n.o.ble damsel, and so she must have been of n.o.ble blood."

"But that is a curiously complicated story."

"Not so very complicated as you imagine. Enough, the n.o.ble gentleman and the n.o.ble damsel, who soon became a n.o.ble lady, had a villa, which was called Paradise--why should not a villa be called Paradise, Cloten?"

"Nevertheless, very curious name."

"Why? Does not one call his place Solitude, another Sans Souci, and still another Bellevue--why should not one of them have called his Paradise? _Eh bien!_ The n.o.bleman's servant was called Adam. Good name for a man-servant. When he became old and stiff, they called him old Adam--have you ever heard of a n.o.ble who was called Adam, Cloten?"

"Never in my life."

"You see there is the best proof at once. He called his servant Adam, and his wife's chambermaid Eve--little Evy, very nice name for a maid.

My mother had a charming little maid, and her name was Evy. But Adam was a bad fellow, just as our servants nowadays are bad fellows. And Eva was no better. At last the old gentleman took his riding-whip and drove both from the place. In their deportment-book he wrote: Dismissed on account of dishonesty, fondness of dress, and laziness. That is the story, of course only in the outline."

"Really, very remarkable, quite famous! 'pon honor! Did you bring the book home with you, baron?"

"No; but an authenticated copy, endorsed by the justice of the peace of the place."

"Are there justices of the peace out there?"

"But, my dear friend, how could there be a country and no justices?"

"To be sure. Still, it would be better if we had the book itself."

"Perhaps we can get it. The monks are wretchedly obstinate. I had a great mind to poison them all with prussic acid. I shall probably do it yet, if I ever get to that district again. Until then, we must be satisfied with a copy."

"I say, baron, could you not let me have a copy like yours? Of course I mean in the translation, and not in Bramaputrid, or what the nonsense is."

"Hm! But you must promise not to show it to anybody?"

"Rely upon it."

"Perhaps to one or the other of our own circle."

"Ah! May I do that?"

"Oh yes! But do not mention my name. Tell them it was a mere hypothesis of yours----"

"A what?"

"A mere idea, which had not yet been confirmed. When we get hold of the original, then comes the time for your triumph and the triumph of the good cause at once."

CHAPTER XXIV.

The summer sun had set for some time behind the tall trees of the park; dark shadows were falling upon the thick bosquets; here and there a bird was still chirping, before he put his head under his wing for the night; otherwise all had become silent in the garden, where just before all had been noise and uproar. But it was all the louder inside the house. The dazzling light of a hundred wax candles on l.u.s.tres and girandoles shone from the windows upon the great lawn before the garden room. Music resounded through the opened folding-doors, and the peasantry, who were standing around at a respectful distance, saw through the open window the dancing couples float by one by one. In the rooms adjoining the ball-room card-tables had been placed for the older guests, and Count Grieben's screeching voice could continually be heard, as Baron Grenwitz, who was a very indifferent player, missed a trick, or, led away by his timidity, committed one of those blunders which jar so painfully on the mind of an accomplished player. Baron Barnewitz and his wife cut in, so that one of them could always be in one or the other room, and no party was favored at the expense of the other. At first, Hortense had intended to dance all the evening; but after two or three dances she became so angry at the admiration which her cousin excited, that she proposed this arrangement to her husband, who was all the more willing to accede to it, as he was, in spite of his corpulency, very fond of dancing. He not only danced very well besides, but was a great admirer of married and unmarried ladies in ball toilet. And such were not wanting. There was a bevy of beauties there such as would have enchanted more thoughtful men than the baron was. The most beautiful and most lovely of all was, in the judgment of the gentlemen at least,--for the opinion of the ladies was very much divided on the subject,--beyond all doubt, Melitta. Her cheeks, generally rather pale, were slightly flushed from dancing, her eyes beamed with light and life, her slender elastic form moved along with marvellous grace in rhythmical change--thus she floated over the smooth parquet of the ball-room like the very Muse of the Dance. By the side of this dazzling apparition the pretty women of her age looked mere wax dolls, and the younger girls very nice marionettes. Thus it seemed at least to Oswald, as he saw her fly by him in the waltz or met her halfway in the cotillon. A strange mixture of contradictory sensations filled his heart. Since the moment when he had seen Baron Oldenburg's portrait for the first time in Melitta's alb.u.m, he had never been able to get rid of the thought. What were their relations? But, often as that question had been on his lips, he had never dared to utter it, and the higher the sun of his love arose on the heavens, the paler became the threatening shadow. But to-day his half-dormant doubts had been cruelly aroused by Barnewitz's story, by the appearance of the man himself, and by Melitta's conduct. Again the question arose on his lips, and again he drove it back to its secret place in his heart. He was angry with Melitta, that she should cause him such suffering; he was angry with himself, that he had been persuaded by her to follow her to this party, into this world of n.o.bles, who, he knew, only tolerated him; into this world of frivolous enjoyment and haughty conceit, this noisy, blinding world, which contrasted so miserably with his romantic love and seemed to scoff at the blissful, almost sublime solitude at the forest cottage! It seemed to him an old, old fairy tale, that he had held this wonderful woman in his arms--that he had pressed his lips upon her rosy lips, alas! how often! she looked to him so changed, a perfect stranger. He could not persuade himself that this was Melitta, who was laughing with young Breesen and talking with Cloten, and answering his foolish sallies so politely. And then again, when her bright eye met his, when her hand in the cotillon pressed his so sweetly, when on such an occasion a: Sweet love! you darling!--became barely audible to him--then it was again Melitta, his Melitta! And once more doubts, rising to insane anxiety, chased after certainty, which filled him with unspeakable happiness, as dark shadow and bright sunlight are chasing each other across a fair summer landscape; and in order to escape this sweet anguish, this bitter delight, he sipped with hasty, eager desire the intoxicating beverage, which consists of dazzling light, joyous music, and voluptuous perfumes, and in a ball-room excites and confuses so strangely the senses of all the guests, till they approach Baccha.n.a.lian rapture.

Oswald laughed and talked as if in the best humor; here a reckless, bold word, there a delicate compliment here a satirical sneer, there a sentimental appeal. The ladies seemed entirely to have forgotten his low birth: he was such a capital, indefatigable dancer; so handsome a man, so skilful a flatterer. And if here and there an anxious mother scolded her n.o.ble daughter for her intimacy with that young man. Doctor Stein, the words fell, golden as they were, on sterile soil, and the girl consoled herself, in her n.o.ble conscience, by saying to herself: Well, it is only for to-night! There can be no doubt that Oswald's success with the ladies on that evening deeply disgusted many a n.o.ble soul; but the expressions of such hostility remained confined to an occasional sneer, which never reached Oswald's ear, and to a few angry looks, which, if he chanced to notice them, only increased his enjoyment. He knew perfectly well how slippery the ground was; but the presence of danger, which paralyzes weak minds, only steels strong hearts; and the consciousness that he might be insulted by impertinence at any moment, gave to his manner towards the great men present a boldness, a security, which challenged their indignation, but also warned them that the consequences would be serious. Besides, it must be said to the honor of these young n.o.bles, that among twelve or fourteen there were at least two or three who were not so blinded with prejudices that they should not have appreciated Oswald's chivalrous manner. Such was Baron Langen, who took Oswald familiarly by the arm, and during a pause between the dances, walked up and down with him through the ball-room; such also young Breesen, the handsomest and cleverest of the crowd, who asked Oswald to give him some lessons in pistol-shooting, and who, when his sister had made a mistake in the dance, and interrupted the tour, asked his pardon in her name, and carried him up to her so that she might make her own apologies. Such was, of course, also Baron Oldenburg, who praised Oswald's virtues as a dancer and a marksman to many friends, although he left it undecided whether he did so from sincere conviction or in order to annoy his young companions.

He was not very courteous to others. When Baron Barnewitz had asked him if he would like to take a hand, he had replied: Oh yes! if you will play faro! and when Lisbeth von Meyen had wondered why he did not dance, he had said: Ah, at this moment I regret, for the first time in my life, that my dancing-master never succeeded in teaching me the difference between the first and the second position, nor my music-teacher to distinguish a waltz from an anthem. Thus he sauntered about among the card-tables, and excited Count Grieben's ire by looking into everybody's hands by turns, and then offering good, or rather bad advice to them all. Now again he was seen in the ball-room, looking at the dancing couples with the eyes of a good-natured tomcat who sees black and white mice play merrily on the barn-floor before him. In this pleasing occupation he was interrupted by Baron Barnewitz, who came hurrying in and said:

"Oldenburg, as you have nothing to do----"

"Why, my dear friend, I have a great deal to do."

"Come with me in the dining-room and help me arrange the seats. Please come!"

"Your confidence in my organizing capacity is highly honorable to me, _mon ami_," said Oldenburg, and followed his host across the hall, up the well-carpeted staircase, into the brilliantly illuminated dining-room, where the servants were just finishing setting the tables.

"Here, Oldenburg, are the cards, all written; now tell me, shall we----"

"Honored sir," said Oldenburg to a servant, "could you, perhaps, bring me the useful and ingenious instrument by which this bottle might be opened? There, thanks--_Festina lente!_ Barnewitz, that means: thou shalt not muzzle the ox when he treadeth out the corn! Your health, my boy! This young Cliquot is one of the more virtuous members of his numerous race. Really drinkable," and he sipped one gla.s.s after another. "Now, here I am at your service. Put the bottle on that side-table, my man in the gold lace! there are some gla.s.ses left--Countess Grieben--Baron Oldenburg--Baroness Nadelitz--are you mad, Barnewitz? I to sit two hours hemmed in between the two mummies! I had rather help to wait. No, we'll do it so. The whole of the old people go to one end of the table, and Young Germany to the other. You can go with your flock of he-goats and she-goats to the East, and I will go to the West with my kids and little sheep."

"Well, I suppose that's the best," said Barnewitz. "Here are your cards."

The servants had left the room; the two gentlemen, beginning at opposite ends, began to put the cards on the napkins.

"Miss Klaus," said Oldenburg, holding up a card; "who, by all the Olympic G.o.ds, is Miss Klaus?"

"Our governess. Have you not noticed her? A little thing, very pretty, and with eyes bursting with high treason. We could not well leave her in the nursery--Great heavens! Here is again husband and wife side by side!--because we wanted her in the cotillons. You can give her to Doctor Stein. Like and like, you know."

"Well!" said Oldenburg, and grinned.

"Who is to have the Berkow?"

"Oh, pray, leave me alone! You, for all I care."

"_Bon!_" said Oldenburg, and drank a gla.s.s of champagne.

After a short pause.

"Who is to have the honor of sitting by your wife?"

"Great heavens!--to be sure, that is important. You know, Oldenburg, give her the most significant; no one can say anything to that!"

"All right," said Oldenburg, and looked among the cards till he had found the right one. "I will pay you for your unauthenticated fisherman's stories," he growled between his teeth.

"Have you done, Oldenburg?"

"Directly--now!"