Immensee Page 9

  The following afternoon Reinhard and Elisabeth went for a walk on thefarther side of the lake, strolling at times through the woodland, atother times along the shore where it jutted out into the water.Elisabeth had received injunctions from Eric, during the absence ofhimself and her mother to show Reinhard the prettiest views in theimmediate neighbourhood, particularly the view toward the farm itselffrom the other side of the lake. So now they proceeded from one pointto another.

  At last Elisabeth got tired and sat down in the shade of someoverhanging branches. Reinhard stood opposite to her, leaning againsta tree trunk; and as he heard the cuckoo calling farther back in thewoods, it suddenly struck him that all this had happened once before.He looked at her and with an odd smile asked:

  "Shall we look for strawberries?"

  "It isn't strawberry time," she said.

  "No, but it will soon be here."

  Elisabeth shook her head in silence; then she rose and the twostrolled on together. And as they wandered side by side, his eyes everand again were bent toward her; for she walked gracefully and her stepwas light. He often unconsciously fell back a pace in order that hemight feast his eyes on a full view of her.

  So they came to an open space overgrown with heather where the viewextended far over the country-side. Reinhard bent down and plucked abloom from one of the little plants that grew at his feet. When helooked up again there was an expression of deep pain on his face.

  "Do you know this flower?" he asked.

  She gave him a questioning look. "It is an erica. I have oftengathered them in the woods."

  "I have an old book at home," he said; "I once used to write in it allsorts of songs and rhymes, but that is all over and done with longsince. Between its leaves also there is an erica, but it is only afaded one. Do you know who gave it me?"

  She nodded without saying a word; but she cast down her eyes and fixedthem on the bloom which he held in his hand. For a long time theystood thus. When she raised her eyes on him again he saw that theywere brimming over with tears.

  "Elisabeth," he said, "behind yonder blue hills lies our youth. Whathas become of it?"

  Nothing more was spoken. They walked dumbly by each other's side downto the lake. The air was sultry; to westward dark clouds were rising."There's going to be a storm," said Elisabeth, hastening her steps.Reinhard nodded in silence, and together they rapidly sped along theshore till they reached their boat.

  On the way across Elisabeth rested her hand on the gunwale of theboat. As he rowed Reinhard glanced along at her, but she gazed pasthim into the distance. And so his glance fell downward and rested onher hand, and the white hand betrayed to him what her lips had failedto reveal.

  It revealed those fine traces of secret pain that so readily mark awoman's fair hands, when they lie at nights folded across an achingheart. And as Elisabeth felt his glance resting on her hand she let itslip gently over the gunwale into the water.

  On arriving at the farm they fell in with a scissors grinder's cartstanding in front of the manor-house. A man with black, loosely-flowinghair was busily plying his wheel and humming a gipsy melody between histeeth, while a dog that was harnessed to the cart lay panting hard by.On the threshold stood a girl dressed in rags, with features of fadedbeauty, and with outstretched hand she asked alms of Elisabeth.

  Reinhard thrust his hand into his pocket, but Elisabeth was beforehim, and hastily emptied the entire contents of her purse into thebeggar's open palm. Then she turned quickly away, and Reinhard heardher go sobbing up the stairs.

  He would fain have detained her, but he changed his mind and remainedat the foot of the stairs. The beggar girl was still standing at thedoorway, motionless, and holding in her hand the money she hadreceived.

  "What more do you want?" asked Reinhard.

  She gave a sudden start: "I want nothing more," she said; then,turning her head toward him and staring at him with wild eyes, shepassed slowly out of the door. He uttered a name, but she heard himnot; with drooping head, with arms folded over her breast, she walkeddown across the farmyard:

  Then when death shall claim me, I must die alone.

  An old song surged in Reinhard's ears, he gasped for breath; a littlewhile only, and then he turned away and went up to his chamber.

  He sat down to work, but his thoughts were far afield. After an hour'svain attempt he descended to the parlour. Nobody was in it, only cool,green twilight; on Elisabeth's work-table lay a red ribbon which shehad worn round her neck during the afternoon. He took it up in hishand, but it hurt him, and he laid it down again.

  He could find no rest. He walked down to the lake and untied the boat.He rowed over the water and trod once again all the paths which he andElisabeth had paced together but a short hour ago. When he got backhome it was dark. At the farm he met the coachman, who was about toturn the carriage horses out into the pasture; the travellers had justreturned.

  As he came into the entrance hall he heard Eric pacing up and down thegarden-room. He did not go in to him; he stood still for a moment, andthen softly climbed the stairs and so to his own room. Here he sat inthe arm-chair by the window. He made himself believe that he waslistening to the nightingale's throbbing music in the garden hedgesbelow, but what he heard was the throbbing of his own heart.Downstairs in the house every one went to bed, the night-hours passed,but he paid no heed.

  For hours he sat thus, till at last he rose and leaned out of the openwindow. The dew was dripping among the leaves, the nightingale hadceased to trill. By degrees the deep blue of the darksome sky waschased away by a faint yellow gleam that came from the east; a freshwind rose and brushed Reinhard's heated brow; the early lark soaredtriumphant up into the sky.

  Reinhard suddenly turned and stepped up to the table. He groped aboutfor a pencil and when he had found one he sat down and wrote a fewlines on a sheet of white paper. Having finished his writing he tookup hat and stick, and leaving the paper behind him, carefully openedthe door and descended to the vestibule.

  The morning twilight yet brooded in every corner; the big house-catstretched its limbs on the straw mat and arched its back againstReinhard's hand, which he unthinkingly held out to it. Outside in thegarden the sparrows were already chirping their patter from among thebranches, and giving notice to all that the night was now past.[9]

  [9] Literally, "sang out pompously, like priests." The word seems tohave been coined by the author. The English 'patter' is derived from_Pater noster_, and seems an appropriate translation.

  Then within the house he heard a door open on the upper floor; someone came downstairs, and on looking up he saw Elisabeth standingbefore him. She laid her hand upon his arm, her lips moved, but not aword did he hear.

  Presently she said: "You will never come back. I know it; do not denyit; you will never come back."

  "No, never," he said.

  She let her hand fall from his arm and said no more. He crossed thehall to the door, then turned once more. She was standing motionlesson the same spot and looking at him with lifeless eyes. He advancedone step and opened his arms toward her; then, with a violent effort,he turned away and so passed out of the door.

  Outside the world lay bathed in morning light, the drops of pearly dewcaught on the spiders' webs glistened in the first rays of the risingsun. He never looked back; he walked rapidly onward; behind him thepeaceful farmstead gradually disappeared from view as out in front ofhim rose the great wide world.

  * * * * *

  THE OLD MAN

  The moon had ceased to shine in through the window-panes, and it hadgrown quite dark; but the old man still sat in his arm-chair withfolded hands and gazed before him into the emptiness of the room.

  Gradually, the murky darkness around him dissolved away before hiseyes and changed into a broad dark lake; one black wave after anotherwent rolling on farther and farther, and on the last one, so far awayas to be almost beyond the reach of the old man's vision, floatedlonely among its broad leaves a white
water-lily.

  The door opened, and a bright glare of light filled the room.

  "I am glad that you have come, Bridget," said the old man. "Set thelamp upon the table."

  Then he drew his chair up to the table, took one of the open books andburied himself in studies to which he had once applied all thestrength of his youth.