Henrik coloured deeply, and the Judge continued: "And you, Gabriele! I shall never call you my clever girl again, if you do not make a riddle against the next post-day which shall so occupy your mother that she shall forget all the rest!"

The following post-day was an exceedingly merry one. Never before had more interesting topics of conversation been brought forward by Henrik; never before had the mother been so completely seduced into the discussions of the young people. At the very moment when the post-hour arrived she was deeply busied in solving a riddle, which Henrik and Gabriele endeavoured to make only the more intricate by their fun and jokes, whilst they were pretending to a.s.sist her in the discovery.

The riddle ran as follows:

Raging war and tumult Am I never nigh; And from rain and tempest To far woods I fly.

In cold, worldly bosoms My deep grave is made; And from conflagration Death has me affrayed.

No one e'er can find me In the dungeon glooms; I have no abiding, Save where freedom blooms.

My morning sun ariseth, Light o'er mind to fling; O'er love's throbbing bosom Rests my downy wing!

Like our Lord in heaven, I am ever there And like him of children Have I daily care.

What though I may sever From thee now and then, I forget thee never---- I come back again!

In the morning's brightness, Dear one, if thou miss me, With the sunset's crimson Come I back and kiss thee!

This riddle, which it must be confessed was by no means one of Gabriele's best, gave rise to a fund of amus.e.m.e.nt, and occasioned the maddest propositions on Henrik's part. The mother, however, did not allow herself to be misled; but exclaimed, whilst she laughingly endeavoured to overpower the voices of her joking children,

"The riddle is----"

What the riddle was, the reader may see by the t.i.tle of our next chapter.

CHAPTER V.

HAPPINESS.

"Happiness!" repeated the Judge, as he entered the room at the same moment, with letters and newspapers in his hand.

"I fancy you have been busying yourselves here with prophesyings," said he: "Gabriele, my child, you shall have your reward for it--read this aloud to your mother!" laying a newspaper before her.

Gabriele began to read--but threw the paper hastily down, gave a spring for joy, clapped her hands, and exclaimed,

"Henrik's poetry has won the highest prize!"

"And here, Henrik," said the father, "are letters--you are nominated to----" The voice of the Judge was drowned in the general outbreak of joy. Henrik lay in the arms of his mother, surrounded by his sisters, who, amid all their jubilation, had tearful eyes.

The Judge walked up and down the room with long strides; at length he paused before the happy group, and exclaimed,

"Nay, only see! let me also have a little bit! Elise--my thanks to thee that thou hast given him to me--and thou boy, come here--I must tell thee----" but not one word could he tell him.

The father, speechless from inward emotion, embraced his son, and returned in the same manner the affectionate demonstrations of his daughters.

Many private letters from Stockholm contained flattering words and joyful congratulations to the young poet. All Henrik's friends seemed to accord in one song of triumph.

There was almost too much happiness for one time.

During the first moments of this news the joy was calm and mingled with emotion; afterwards, however, it was lively, and shot forth like rockets in a thousand directions. Every thing was in motion to celebrate the day and its hero; and while the father of the family set about to mix a bowl--for he would that the whole house should drink Henrik's health--the others laid plans for a journey to Stockholm. The whole family must be witnesses of Henrik's receiving the great gold medal--they must be present on the day of his triumph. Eva recovered almost her entire liveliness as she described a similar festival which she had witnessed in the Swedish Academy.

Henrik talked a deal about Stockholm; he longed to be able to show his mother and sisters the beautiful capital. How they would be delighted with the gallery of mineralogy--how they would be charmed with the theatres! how they would see and hear the lovely Demoiselle Hogquist and the captivating Jenny Lind![17]--and then the castle!--the promenades--the prospects--the churches--the beautiful statues in the public places--Henrik would have been almost ready to have overthrown some of them. Oh, there was so much that was beautiful and delightful to see in Stockholm!

The mother smiled in joy over----the occasion of the journey to Stockholm; the father said "yes" to that and every thing; the countenances of the young people beamed forth happiness; the bowl was fragrant with good luck.

The young Baron L., who liked Henrik extremely, and who liked still more every lively excitement to every uproar, was possessed by a regular frenzy to celebrate the day. He waltzed with everybody; Louise might not sit still; "the little lady" must allow herself to be twirled about; but the truth was that in her joy she was about as wild for dancing as he was himself--the very Judge himself must waltz with him; and at last he waltzed with chairs and tables, whilst the fire of the punch was not very much calculated to abate his vivacious spirits.

It was very hard for the Judge that he was compelled on this very day to leave home, but pressing business obliged him to do so. He must make a journey that same evening, which would detain him from home for three or four days, and although he left his family in the full bloom of their joy and prosperity, the short separation appeared to him more painful than common.

After he had taken his leave he returned--a circ.u.mstance very unusual with him--to the room again; embraced his wife yet a second time, flourished about with his daughters in his wolf's-skin cloak as if out of liveliness, and then went out hastily, giving to the young Baron, who, in his wild joy, had fallen upon his wolf's-skin like a dog, a tolerably heavy cuff. A few minutes afterwards, as he cast from his sledge a glance and a hand-greeting to his wife and daughters at the library window, they saw with astonishment that his eyes were full of tears.

But the joy of the present, and the promises of the future, filled the hearts of those who remained behind to overflowing, and the evening pa.s.sed amid gaiety and pleasure.

Baron L. drank punch with the domestics till both he and they were quite wrong in the head, and all Louise's good moral preaching was like so many water-drops on the fire. Henrik was n.o.bly gay, and the beaming expression of his animated, beautiful head, reminded the beholder of an Apollo.

"Where now are all your gloomy forebodings?" whispered Leonore, tenderly joyful; "you look to me as if you could even embrace Stjernhok."

"The whole world!" returned Henrik, clasping his sister to his breast, "I am so happy!"

And yet there was one person in the house who was happier than Henrik, and that was his mother. When she looked on the beautiful, glorified countenance of her son, and thought of that which he was and on what he would become; when she thought on the laurels which would engarland his beloved head, on the future which awaited her favourite, her summer child--Oh! then bloomed the high summer of maternal joy in her breast, and she revelled in a nameless happiness--a happiness so great that she was almost anxious, because it appeared to her too great to be borne on earth!

And yet for all that--and we say it with grateful joy--the earth can bear a great degree of happiness; can bear it for long without its either bringing with it a curse or a disappointment. It is in stillness and in retirement where this good fortune blooms the best, and on that account the world knows little of it, and has little faith in it. But, thank G.o.d! it may be abundantly found in all times and in all countries; and it is--we whisper this to the blessed ones in order that we may rejoice with them--it is of extremely rare occurrence when it happens in actual life, as, for the sake of effect, it happens in books, that a strong current of happiness carries along with it unhappiness as in a drag-rope.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] Emilie Hogquist and Jenny Lind are two great ornaments of the Stockholm theatre; the first an actress, the second a singer.

CHAPTER VI.

UNHAPPINESS.

Night succeeded the joyful evening, and the members of the Frank family lay deep in the arms of sleep, when suddenly, at the hour of midnight, they were awoke by the fearful cry of "Fire! fire!"

The house was on fire, and smoke and flames met them at every turn; for the conflagration spread with incredible speed. An inconceivable confusion succeeded: one sought for another; one called on another; mother and children, inmates and domestics!

Only half-dressed, and without having saved the least thing, the inhabitants of the house a.s.sembled themselves in the market-place, where an innumerable crowd of people streamed together, and began to work the fire-engines; whilst church bells tolled violently, and the alarm-drums were beaten wildly and dully up and down the streets. Henrik dragged with him the young Baron L----, who was speechless, and much injured by the fire.

The mother cast a wild searching look around among her children, and suddenly exclaiming "Gabriele!" threw herself with a thrilling cry of anguish into the burning house. A circle of people hastily surrounded the daughters, in order to prevent their following her, and at the same moment two men broke forth from them, and hastened with the speed of lightning after her. The one was her beautiful, now more than ever beautiful, son. The other resembled one of the Cyclops, as art has represented them at work in their subterranean smithies, excepting that he had two eyes, which in this moment flashed forth flames, as if bidding defiance to those with which he was about to combat. Both vanished amid the conflagration.

A moment's silence ensued: the alarm-drum ceased to beat; the people scarcely breathed; the daughters wrung their hands silently, and the fire-bell called anxiously to the ineffectual engine-showers, for the flames rose higher and higher.

All at once a shout was sent from the ma.s.s of the people; all hearts beat joyfully, for the mother was borne in the arms of her son from amid the flames, which stretched forth their hissing tongues towards her!--and--now another shout of exultation! The modern Cyclop, in one word the a.s.sessor, stood in a window of the second story, and, amid the whirlwind of smoke, was seen a white form, which he pressed to his bosom. A ladder was quickly raised, and Jeremias Munter, blackened and singed, but nevertheless happy, laid the fainting but unhurt Gabriele in the arms of her mother and sisters.

After this, he and Henrik returned to the burning house, from which they were fortunate enough to save the desk containing the Judge's most valuable papers. A few trifles, but of no great importance, were also saved. But this was all. The house was of wood, and spite of every effort to save it, was burned, burned, burned to the ground, but, as it stood detached, without communicating the fire to any other.

When Henrik, enfeebled with his exertions, returned to his family, he found them all quartered in the small dwelling of the a.s.sessor, which also lay in the market-place; while Jeremias seemed suddenly to have multiplied himself into ten persons, in order to provide his guests with whatever they required. His old housekeeper, what with the fire, and what with so many guests who were to be provided for in that simply-supplied establishment, was almost crazed. But he had help at hand for everybody: he prepared coffee, he made beds, and seemed altogether to forget his own somewhat severe personal injuries by the fire. He joked about himself and his affairs at the same time that he wiped tears from his eyes, which he could not but shed over the misfortunes of his friends. Affectionate and determined, he provided for everything and for every one; whilst Louise and Leonore a.s.sisted him with quiet resolution.