Читать книгу Problematic Characters - Spielhagen Friedrich - Страница 43

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Sauntering up and down in the walks between the flower-beds, they only recalled their first intention to go into the house when they came near it a second time. They entered through the open door into a room whose admirable proportions, and simple, tasteful decoration made at once a most pleasing impression on Oswald. The tall chestnut-trees before the windows kept the room shady and cool. The subdued light was grateful to the eyes after the overwhelming sunshine of the garden. Comfortable chairs in various shapes and sizes, American rocking-chairs, French causeuses, a large grand-action piano, tables covered with books and portfolios, scattered here and there over the large room, gave it, amidst all the abundance of objects, something cozy, which contrasted most delightfully with the stiff regularity at the château of Grenwitz.

"I am quite curious to see if anybody will come when I ring," said Melitta, throwing her hat on a table and going towards the bell-rope; "it is by no means impossible that we may have to go ourselves to the pantry, provided always we can find the key."

She rang the bell and turned again to Oswald, who was looking at one of the marble busts with which the walls of the room were adorned.

"How do you like that mask?"

"Very much indeed--it is the Rondanini Medusa."

"Ah! I see you are a connoisseur."

"At best only an amateur. I have seen a good deal in the capital and elsewhere, but mostly only casts. It has been from boyhood up my most ardent wish to make a pilgrimage to Italy, in order to be able to worship at the feet of the great god Apollo Belvedere."

"Well, that is a very reasonable wish."

"Not so very reasonable, after all, if it is reasonable only to wish what we can attain."

"Then it would be unreasonable to wish for some refreshments now, as that does not seem attainable," said Melitta, in a playfully complaining tone. "But do we not often obtain something from Fate, merely because we wish for it most ardently, almost impertinently? Fate grants us our wish, as a mother often does the piece of cake to the importunate child, only to get rid of us."

"Fate is no capricious lady, but a hard, stony-hearted god, and if we want anything of him we must be firm."

"That may be so with you men, and perhaps it is well it should be so, else you would be too overbearing. But we women--what on earth would become of us if we had to be firm like that when we want a little happiness? We rather go to work and beg and pray, and when we are just about to give up all hope and to despair of all happiness--why, just then--you see, there comes Baumann, and with him a prospect that we may get some refreshments."

The door opened, and the form of a tall, thin man appeared on the threshold. He had quite a martial air with his old wrinkled face and bushy eyebrows; a deep scar ran across the bald forehead, past the left eye, and down the whole cheek, and his mouth was shaded by a heavy iron-gray mustache.

"Madam," he said, in a voice which seemed to rise from a deep cavern.

"Ah, Baumann, is everybody out?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"But I did not say they might go out. Where is mam'selle?"

"In Fashwitz, ma'am."

"And John?"

"Gone to see the forester."

"And the maids?"

"In the village."

"My good Baumann, we should like to have some supper."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Can you get us some?"

"Hardly!"

"Or can you find the key to the pantry?"

"Will hardly be possible."

"My dear Baumann, you must really see what can be done."

"Yes, ma'am."

Thereupon the strange fellow turned on his heels and marched out again.

"Well, what do you think of my maître d'hôtel?"

"I think the man is a great original; but why did he look at me all the time, with his big bright eyes?"

Melitta laughed.

"You must know that old Baumann was my father's servant, after having made all the campaigns against Napoleon in his regiment. He has rocked me, when I was a child, on his knees, has never left me since, and will not leave me till I die or he dies. Twice he has saved my life, and, without my knowing it or desiring it, shared every one of my sorrows, and, I may say, every joy. If I were to say to him: Baumann, you will have to go to Australia to-morrow for me! he would say: Yes, ma'am! pack his things over night, and be on his way before sunrise. And if I said: I cannot help it, Baumann, but you will have to die for me! he would say, Yes, ma'am! and not move a muscle. But if I said to him, Please hear, Baumann, or call him Mr. Baumann, he would think our friendship at an end. Now he is angry because I have not told him who you are. When he will know that, and find out that I am glad to see you here, he will be content again. Now mind what will happen. He will come back to tell us that he can do absolutely nothing for us. Thereupon I will give him the information about you, and make believe to go myself. Then we shall have peace. But you must look friendly when I mention you to him, you hear?"

"Don't fear, madam. I will be friendly, and smile as mildly as one of Guido Reni's angels."

The door opened once more. The old servant entered, marched into the room, remained standing precisely on the same spot as before, and said, looking again at Oswald:

"No possibility whatever, ma'am!"

"But, Baumann, that is a great pity. Here is Doctor Stein, who has specially come over from Grenwitz, and on foot, too, to talk with Mr. Bemperlein about Julius. And now both have driven out, and we cannot offer him a mouthful to eat or a glass of wine. And I myself have eaten nothing, as you know, since the morning, and am almost perishing for hunger."

Oswald found it difficult to keep the smile, which he had been ordered to show, from degenerating into broad laughter as he saw how the old man's face grew brighter and brighter with every word which Melitta uttered. At last he turned his look from one to the other, as if he were going to say: Well, you see, young people, after all, you can do nothing without old Baumann! Then he said:

"Well, as to the cellar-key, I have that in my pocket, ma'am."

"To be sure, and how about the key to the pantry?"

"Barely possible that mam'seile has put it again under the doorsill, although I have warned her against that many a time."

"Won't you look, Baumann, if it is there?"

"Yes, ma'am."

As soon as the door had closed after the old man, Melitta threw herself laughing into the rocking-chair.

"Did I not tell you?" she cried, rocking to and fro, joyous as a child that has had its will; "did I not tell you?"

Oswald had taken a seat opposite to her, at the large round table, on which an open album and drawing materials lay scattered about. His hand was playing with the pencil while he looked at Melitta, lost in thought.

"Are you going to draw my likeness?" asked Melitta.

"I wish I could."

"Why not? There is my album."

"That does not help me. You will have to teach me first how to draw directly with the eye."

"Ah, that is exactly what I always wish I could do. How often, when I am interested in a face, a figure, or a landscape, have I thought: Now you will hit it! and when I try to fix it on the paper, clear as it is before my eye, it is nothing but a caricature."

"I am sure your album will say the contrary. Is it permitted to look at it?"

"Not generally, but you may. In fact, it has no value but for myself; for I find there not only what I have drawn, but also what I have wished to draw. Besides, my album is a kind of diary. I probably commenced this one shortly before my Italian journey."