"All will not receive you so warmly," answered the Professor. "He who comes next is my colleague Struvelius; he teaches Greek and Latin, as I do; he is not one of my intimate acquaintances, but is a thorough scholar."

This time it was a house in the city; the apartments were a little more ancient than in Ilse's new dwelling. This professor's wife wore a black silk dress, and was sitting before a writing-table covered with books and papers; a delicate lady, of middle age, with a small but clever face and an extraordinary coiffure; for her short hair was combed behind her ears in one large roll of curl, which gave her a certain resemblance to Sappho or Corinne, so far as a comparison is allowable with ladies of antiquity, the growth of whose hair is by no means satisfactorily ascertained.

Mrs. Struvelius arose slowly and greeted the visitors with haughty demeanor; she expressed her pleasure to Ilse and then turned to the Professor. "I have to-day commenced reading the work of colleague Raschke and I admire the deep thought of the man."

"His writings are delightful," replied the Professor, "because in all of them we discover a thorough and pure-minded man."

"I agree with your premise and consequent conclusion in this particular instance, but with regard to the general proposition you a.s.sert, allow me to say that many works that form an epoch in literature would have no great excellence, if it were necessary to be a perfect man in order to write a good book."

Ilse looked timidly at the learned lady who had ventured to oppose her husband.

"Yet we will come to an agreement," continued the Professor's wife, fluently, as if she were reading from a book. "It is not requisite for every valuable work that its author should be a man of character, but he who truly has this n.o.ble qualification, would be unlikely to produce anything which would have an unfavorable influence on his branch of learning; undoubtedly the weaknesses of a learned work originate more frequently than one supposes in the author's weakness of character."

The Professor nodded a.s.sentingly.

"For," she continued, "the position which a scholar a.s.sumes with respect to the great questions of the day, affecting his branch of learning--nay, with respect even to the advantages and deficiencies of his method--may generally be explained from his character. You have always lived in the country," she said, turning to Ilse. "It would be instructive to me to learn what impression you have received of the mutual relations of people in the town."

"I have met but few as yet," rejoined Ilse, timidly.

"Of course," said Mrs. Struvelius. "But I mean that you will observe with surprise that near neighborhood does not always imply intimate intercourse. But Struvelius must be told you are here."

She rose, opened the door of the next room, and standing bolt upright by the door, called out:

"Professor and Mrs. Werner!"

A slight murmur and the hasty rustling of leaves of a book were heard in the adjoining room. The wife closed the door and continued:

"For after all we live among many and a.s.sociate with few. In the city we choose from among many individuals with a certain arbitrariness. One might have more acquaintance than one has, but even this feeling gives you confidence, and such confidence is more easily acquired in town than in the country."

The side door opened. Professor Struvelius entered with an absent-minded manner. He had a sharp nose, thin lips and wore an unusual style of head dress. For his hair stood so peculiarly after its own fashion, that one was justified in a.s.suming that the head gear was hereditary and had suggested the name of the family. He bowed slightly, pushed a chair forward and seated himself in it silently--probably his thoughts were still occupied with his Greek historian. Ilse suffered from the conviction that the visit was an inopportune interruption and that it was a great condescension on the part of his wife to speak to her at all.

"Are you musical?" said Mrs. Struvelius, inquisitively.

"I can hardly say so," answered Ilse.

"I am glad of it," said the hostess, moving opposite to her and examining her with her sharp eyes. "From my estimate of you, I should think you could not be musical. The art of music makes us weak and leads too frequently to an imperfect state of existence."

Felix endeavored, with little success, to make the Professor take part in the conversation; and the visitors soon rose. On taking leave, Mrs.

Struvelius stretched the lower part of her arm in a rectangular line toward Ilse and said, with a solemn pressure of the hand:

"Pray feel yourself at home with us." And the words of her husband, bidding them adieu, were cut short by the closing of the door.

"What do you say now?" said the Professor, as they drove away.

"Ah, Felix, I feel very insignificant; my courage has left me, I would rather return home."

"Be composed," said the husband, consolingly; "you are going about to-day as if you were at a fair, looking over the contents of the tables. What does not please you, you need not buy. The next visit is to our historian, a worthy man, who is one of the good genii of our University. His daughter also is an amiable young lady."

A servant opened the door and conducted them into the reception-room.

There were some good landscapes on the wall; a pianoforte, a pretty flower stand, with rare plants, well arranged and taken care of. The daughter entered hastily; she had a delicate face with beautiful dark eyes. A stately old gentleman with a distinguished air followed her. He looked something like a high official, only his lively way of speaking showed him to be a man of learning. Ilse was warmly and heartily welcomed. The old gentleman seated himself near her and began an easy conversation, and Ilse soon felt herself as comfortable as with an intimate acquaintance. She was also reminded of her home, for he asked:

"Are any of the remains of the old monastery at Rossau still preserved?"

Felix looked up with curiosity, and Ilse answered: "Only the walls; the interior is rebuilt."

"It was one of the oldest ecclesiastical foundations of your region, and has stood many centuries, and undoubtedly exercised influence over a wide district. It is remarkable that the records of the monastery are almost all wanting, and all other accounts or notices, so far as I know, are very scanty. One may suppose that much still lies in concealment there."

Ilse observed how the countenance of her husband lighted up; but he replied, quietly:

"In the place itself, my inquiries were in vain."

"That is possible," agreed the Historian. "Perhaps the doc.u.ments have been taken to the seat of government, and lie there unused."

Thus pa.s.sed one visit after another. Next came the Rector, a Professor of Medicine, an agreeable man of the world, who kept up an elegant establishment. His wife was a plump, active lady, with restless, inquiring eyes. Then came the Secretary of the theological Consistory, a tall, thin gentleman with a sweet smile; his wife, too, was over-proportioned in everything,--in nose, mouth, and hospitality.

The last was the Mineralogist, a clever young man with a very pretty wife; they had only been married a few months. While the young women, seated on the sofa, were rapidly becoming acquainted. Ilse was for the second time surprised by a question from the Professor:

"Your home is not without interest for my department. Is there not a cave in the neighborhood?"

Ilse colored and looked again at her husband.

"It is on my father's estate."

"Indeed! I am just now at work on a new discovery that has been made on your estate," exclaimed the Mineralogist.

He produced a stone of remarkably radiated structure.

"This is a very rare mineral that has been discovered in the neighborhood of the cave; it was sent me by an apothecary of the province."

He told her the name of the mineral, and spoke of the stone of which the cave was formed, and the rock on which her father's house stood, just as if he had been there himself, and made Ilse describe the lines of the hills and the quarries of the neighborhood. He listened attentively to her clear answers, and thought the geological structure of the estate very remarkable.

Ilse was delighted and exclaimed:

"We imagined that no one in the world cared about us; but I see the learned gentlemen know more about our country than we ourselves do."

"We know, at least, how to find something more precious than fragments of rock there," replied the Professor courteously.

After their return home, Ilse entered her husband's room, where he had already sat down to his work.

"Let me remain with you to-day, Felix? My head is confused with all the persons to whom you have taken me; I have seen so much within one day, and have had so much friendliness shown me by clever and distinguished men. The learned lady frightened me most; and, Felix, it is perhaps wrong in me to say so, for she is much more clever and refined, but I found a resemblance in her to a good old acquaintance of ours."

"Mrs. Rollmaus," a.s.sented the Professor. "But this lady is in reality very clever," he added.

"Heaven grant," said Ilse, "that she may be equally true-hearted! But I feel terrified at her learning. I like the other ladies, and the husbands still better. There is something n.o.ble about almost all of them, they converse wonderfully well, they are unconstrained and seem to have real inward happiness and gladness of heart; and naturally so, for they hover over the earth like your G.o.ds of old, and, therefore, they may well be cheerful. Ah! and there was the patched smoking jacket which dear Professor Raschke wore--moth and rust will never eat that!

When I think that all these clever people have treated me with kindness and regard, solely on my husband's account, I do not know how I can thank you sufficiently. And now that I have been received into this new society, I can only ask that my entrance into it may be blessed."

"The husband stretched out his hand and drew her toward him; she clasped his head with her hands and bent over him.

"What are you working at now?" she asked, softly.