Melting Snows [Reprint 2021 ed.] 9783112413968, 9783112413951

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MELTING

SNOWS

" Pellegrino del del', bel astro romito, Che in prima giovinezza amai, Ove t'aggiri adesso, e su qual lito Piovi i tuoi rai ? . . ."

MELTING SNOWS BY

PRINCE SCHOENAICH-CAROLATH

TRANSLATED

INTO

ENGLISH

BY

MARGARET

SYMONDS

LONDON

JOHN C. NIMMO 1 4 , KING WILLIAM S T R E E T , MDCCCXCV

STRAND

Printed

by B A L L A N T Y N E , H A N S O N &

At the Ballantytu

Press

Co.

CONTENTS PAGE

MELTING SNOWS

I

T H E QUEEN OF T H U L E

239

T H E MOTH

261

MELTING

SNOWS

His name was Bent Sorenson.

H e was the

eldest son of Pastor Sorenson in Mandergaard, and he was working at mathematics in a big town of North Germany. just twenty, very slim, neither handsome, but slow — almost slow.

H e was ugly

nor

wearisomely

H e spent exactly six hours in college,

and six among his books; but he did this from habit; his actual work finished long before.

was usually

When the time was

up, he put on a sort of overcoat and went into his landlady's he was going out.

room to tell her that H e did this just as

a schoolboy might have done it; he had always been obliged to tell his father when A

2

M E L T I N G SNOWS

his lessons were finished, and had grown so accustomed to the habit, that he never attempted to drop it.

H e then pulled on

a pair of knitted gloves, and his cap, and walked off in a quiet deliberate way, and always through till he

exactly

the same

came to a certain

quented

by a set of

streets,

club-room, fre-

students,

reporters,

young doctors, and artists, who had agreed to

spend

their

evenings

together

there.

When Bent arrived, he said good-evening in a shy voice; and sitting down at the extreme end of the table, ordered a glass of beer.

He

followed the conversation with the deepest attention.

If it turned upon any scientific

subject he was particularly pleased, but he rarely took

part in it himself.

Towards

ten o'clock he would pay his bill, throw his body forward with a stiff energetic

jerk,

which he imagined was a bow, and then turn homewards. Now

it

was

quite

certain

that

Bent

MELTING SNOWS

thoroughly

enjoyed

these

3

evenings;

but

there were two small things which occasionally embittered his quiet pleasure.

In the

first place, he was annoyed by a young man who sat at the head of the table.

H e was

a rising poet, and his name was already growing famous in the local papers.

But

charming, and gifted, and kind as this young man undoubtedly was, Bent had conceived a secret horror of him.

It was impossible

for him to understand how any reasonable human being could waste one single minute of his precious time in such a useless, such an unsystematic employment as the making of verses.

Had any one suggested that he,

Bent Sorenson, should compose a poem instead of going to college, he would have treated the idea with the same contempt as a challenge to blow soap-bubbles.

If the

young poet was sometimes induced by his comrades to recite anything, a great restlessness would immediately possess Bent's

4

soul.

MELTING SNOWS

He looked anxiously at the clock,

and, contrary to all his habits, flew from the room before the accustomed hour.

The

second cause of annoyance to Bent was the fact of

some one pressing

another glass of beer.

him to order

It seemed to em-

barrass him, and to give him actual pain. H e would stammer some disconnected excuse, and hurry back to his lodgings.

In

these cases, as it was too early to go to bed, he would take up a bit of work rather than waste an instant of his precious time; and sometimes he would get so involved in a difficult problem, that he neither went to bed nor yet to college till he could clear it up, and see a simple explanation in black and white before him.

" Y o u n g Sorenson is

a sober and an excellent young man," said one of his professors; " h e will make his mark."

" Y e s , " answered another professor,

" h e is my best listener.

But I don't see

what else he could do very well.

He has got

MELTING SNOWS

5

to support a large family in the future ; his father has no private means.

It would be

wrong to reckon his work as high as that of other young men who have nothing to drive them into it."

Now the second pro-

fessor had a young nobleman boarding in his house who was chiefly remarkable for his dissolute life and extreme laziness. Bent Sorenson was up for his fourth term. He only noticed that winter was drawing to a close by the fact that it was very cold in his bedroom. lady, never

Frau Bitterlich, his land-

heated her stoves

middle of February.

after the

Bent encouraged this

lady in her economical ways; he saw that she had method in them, and besides, he had not much time to wonder whether he felt cold or not, for he was working hard, and almost without interruption, at a complicated problem which a certain machinemaker had commissioned him to work out. He was to be paid eight thalers for this,

6

MELTING SNOWS

and he had divided his task into several parts, and did one every day.

He

had

just finished the last page, and feeling dead tired he was about to lay down his pen and go to bed, when it struck him that he had not made one point quite clear enough, and that he might still put it into a shorter form.

So back he went again, and worked

on mercilessly through the night and far into the morning.

At last the thing was

finished ; but one little point was left to be written down, and this could only be found in a certain old book which he never used, and which had therefore been stored, together with several other books, in a box in the attic.

H e had not opened this box

since the day when his father had brought him to Frau Bitterlich's house.

T h e attic

was full of rubbish, scattered about in untidy

heaps,

and

Bent

hated

untidiness.

But now he had got to face it.

So he

went down to his landlady, who was bust-

MELTING SNOWS

7

ling about in the kitchen with a very red face, and he asked her for the key.

Then

he started off upon his mission. H e had not far to go.

T h e house was

five stories high, and Bent's room was on the fourth. all.

A

tailor lived at the top

of

A paper was stuck on his door with

the words : " First-Class Tailor for Ladies and Gentlemen," written on it. wonderful

fellow

this

tailor

" What a must

be,"

thought Bent, and then he looked in, for the door stood open wide.

There sat the

tailor sewing by the window, cross-legged on his table; as he sewed, he laughed; his wife was peeling potatoes, she laughed too ; a pair of pretty little children, with rosy cheeks and torn frocks, danced about the floor and screamed with j o y ; a small ungainly

dog squealed and

with them,

and

above

played

them

all

together a

gold

canary bird trilled forth his shrill and piercing notes.

Bent felt out of all their plea-

8

MELTING SNOWS

sure; he hurried on up the small wooden staircase and opened the trap-door. musty air came out

A hot

to meet him.

He

found his book, and was just about to turn and go back to his room, when something in the stuffy atmosphere, combining with his general sense of weariness, seemed to overpower

him.

He

was

seized

with

sudden faintness, and sat down upon the book beams.

box,

leaning his head against

After

a

minute

he

felt

the

better

again, but he needed fresh air, and so he made an effort and tried to pull open one of the heavy attic windows.

H e could not

do it, but he saw a small door, which he knew must lead into the open.

It was

only shut by a wooden bar, and

easily

yielded to the pressure of his hand.

A ray

of brilliant light broke into the dim space where he stood; it was so full, so dazzling, that he covered his face with his hands ; a gust of cold wind blew across his forehead,

MELTING SNOWS

9

and half unconsciously he moved a step forward. H e was startled by a voice of terror, which called out something in a foreign tongue.

Then he opened his eyes, and he

looked below him into an

abyss—streets

which crossed each other, dark courts, and, smoking chimney pots.

Just beside him,

on a flat roof amongst a lot of flower-pots and tall green bushes, a young girl stood and watched him with her large dark eyes. She wore no hat; she was wrapped in a thinly woven shawl, which the wind caught as though to wrap it even tighter round her slender

figure.

Bent stepped almost

instinctively over to the roof, clinging to the rails to save himself from falling, for he was faint and giddy still.

He did not

know if she spoke to him, but she watched him not unkindly—she never took her eyes from him, speak.

and

this encouraged

him

to

io

MELTING SNOWS

"Forgive

me," he said,

"would

it

be

possible—a little water." Then he felt almost sorry that he had spoken, for she

turned

some

vanished;

steps

and

only gone a minute;

away, she

ran

but

down

she

was

came back at

once with a glass of water, which she had filled in haste.

T h e icy drops ran down

the side of the glass. " What

made you wish to die ? "

asked him gently.

she

Her accent was strange,

and sounded foreign. H e did not answer her, but he drank the water, and breathed a long, deep breath. Then

he

felt

much

better;

but he

still

stared a little dreamily in front of him, as though he did not see things clearly. March wind whistled over the roofs,

The the

sun shone out for the first time, and before him stood the young girl with the questioning eyes and pale calm forehead, round which her soft hair blew as though caressing it.

MELTING SNOWS

n

" I had no wish to die," he said at last half timorously.

" I only came up here to

fetch a book I wanted for my work, and then I got faint suddenly.

I don't know

— may be I was a little overdone — again forgive me for having thus intruded on you — and let

me

thank

you

for

the

great

kindness you have shown to me." The

voice

of conscience

whispered

to

Bent that it was high time for him to go away.

But he could not obey it.

H e went

on looking at the ground, and knew that the young girl's eyes were questioning him. Then she spoke again, this time more cheerfully.

" When I saw you on the edge

of the roof," she said, " you looked so pale, so sad, and strange, that were going to throw

I

thought

you

yourself over,

and

that was why I called to you.

I should

have been so sorry for your sake, for you are young, and life is so rich, so beautiful. Don't you agree with me ? "

i2

MELTING SNOWS

Bent felt confused, he had never considered the question.

Indeed, it seemed to

him that hitherto his life had never been particularly beautiful, nor, above all things, rich.

But he did not care to contradict

her, so he only stammered : " Yes, certainly, it is just as you say. Its

"

May be she suspected the reason of Bent's hesitation. " Y o u see," she said, "one can be contented with very small things.

T h e only

people who are really poor are those whose hearts are poor.

And then there is so

much in this world which is splendid—so much which every human being can enjoy. Think of it!

Spring will soon be here—

and then the birds will sing, and the violets will break their little buds, and everything will be full of sunshine and of joy.

Ah,

God is good, and the world is wonderfully, marvellously beautiful."

MELTING SNOWS

13

She put her hand to her forehead, and was silent.

Bent was much perplexed; it

struck him that he had never before in the whole of his life spoken to a young girl. He

would

have

liked

to

say

something

very clever, something smart, but he was unable to pronounce a single word.

H e felt

stupid and uncomfortable, but at the same time a sweet strange

fear crept into his

heart; he was stirred he knew not how. " Then you didn't know anything about the Spring ?" she began again. " No," he answered slowly, " I had no time to think about it.

But now it is come, and I

will believe in it just because you love it so." " D o , " she answered simply, "and don't work too much.

Get well."

She bowed her head slightly and went back down the steps.

A fresh gust of wind

swept over the roofs; it was wonderfully warm ; the air had grown dull and heavy with rain.

i4

MELTING SNOWS

The girl had disappeared through a door. She never looked back, and perhaps this was well, for she was spared one of Bent's terrible bows. Slowly Bent went back to his room. He finished his work, then he looked at the clock, and settled to return to college in the afternoon. For the time being he threw himself down full length upon his sofa, which was one of Frau Bitterlich's greatest treasures, and he tried to collect his thoughts. The result of it was that he soon fell into a heavy sleep, which lasted for many hours. When at last he awoke his room was quite dark. He started to his feet in a fright, reproaching himself most bitterly; but he decided that as it was too late for college, he would at least give in the work he had just finished for the engineer. Frau Bitterlich stared at him in astonishment, and after he had made

MELTING SNOWS

15

his usual speech about leaving the house, she begged him at least to eat the midday meal, which she had kept hot for him. H e only thanked her, and walked on into the street.

T h e lamps were just lighted.

A fine

rain drizzled down, but it was so slight, that very few people put up their umbrellas. Bent remembered that his friend the engineer lived at the other end of the town, so he hurried on as fast as he could.

First he

went through streets which were brilliantly lighted, and where the people loitered and stared at the shop-windows.

by

Then he

passed through a quarter of the town where the lamps burnt dimly, and the broad trottoirs were exchanged for rougher pavements shining black with moisture. ground

stood here and

Plots of empty

there among

the

half-built houses and high barrack-like buildings.

Now and then a mysterious chimney

rose up into the dark night air, and one heard the quick muffled pant of the machines

16

within.

MELTING SNOWS

When the doors opened, a red shaft

of light shot through and flashed like flame upon the dismal road. empty.

T h e street was almost

Sometimes the hurrying form of a

man, starting forth on his weariful nightwork, passed

Bent by, or a woman ran

out from her home to hurry through the shopping she had delayed, or to get some medicine for a sick child.

Bent felt happy

and at home in these surroundings; for he himself was the child of hard labour, and he could

sympathise

more

struggling and with strife.

nearly

with

H e felt that

it was worth his while to give back the result of all his hours of study to a place like this, and to use it for the good of all mankind.

There was a decided

system

here; there was progress, and no sticking in the mud, or waste of time ; the proverb of "each man for himself" held good in this place, where it was a question of hard work, or utter annihilation.

" I , too, am a

M E L T I N G SNOWS

17

figure in the great account," thought Bent, and the thought made him happy. T h e engineer lived way of a

house,

which

newly planted

distinguished hard.

in

an

out

of

stood

in

the

middle

He

was

garden.

man, and

he

worked

the a

very

H e had climbed from the bottom

of the tree to the top, and he had only himself to thank for this position.

There

was just one stumbling-block in his career ; namely, that as he had begun life early as an overseer in a large manufactory, he had never found either time or opportunity to educate himself in the higher branches of mathematics, and now in certain cases of difficulty he was entirely outside consulted

help.

On

one

dependent occasion

a

professor,

who

mended

Bent

to him

as a

qualified

to

assist

him.

he

had

had

recom-

person

Since

upon

that

well day

Bent had often worked for him, and won his highest approval.

The

engineer B

was

i8

MELTING SNOWS

astonished at the high degree of perceptive genius the young man showed in purely professional matters ; no less was he pleased by the clearness of his explanations, and the easy way he had in

writing.

of putting

things

In fun, he would often call

Bent his "technical bureau." " I am so glad to see you," he said, and shook Bent's hand heartily. you Well,

finished that's

our accounts ? a

good

" Have

You have ?

thing — now

can get along all right.

You have

we kept

me waiting, but I knew that it was not an easy bit of work

I gave you to do.

Siemers and Gray had the same problem to do yesterday, and stumped them too.

it appears to have They sent their men

over to find out how I was getting on. ' I shall get on all right,' I said.

Then

they

more

stood

over the

than an hour, just

problem

for

like doctors standing

round a sick-bed ; they made calculations,

M E L T I N G SNOWS

19

and pulled long faces, and finally departed. But come in ; you must stay to supper with us.

M y wife will

you.

be

so pleased to see

Hullo, little woman, what are

you

about—isn't supper ready ? " A t this minute the door opened and a rather sickly-looking woman came into the room.

She greeted

Bent kindly.

A maid

followed her with an enormous soup tureen, which she put down upon the table, then she disappeared, and returned with a loaf of bread and a mighty stone jar filled with foaming beer.

When the table was laid,

a boy of about fourteen got up from his drawing-board

in

another

corner

of

the

room and called his father to look at the work he had done.

It was a rather com-

plicated conic section.

His father looked

and nodded his approval. "Look

here,

Mr.

Sorenson,"

he

" t h e third class of the industrial won't produce this yet awhile

said,

schools

Good, my

20

MELTING SNOWS

boy ; now put your things tidily away and come to supper." The children chattered merrily, and made the meal pass quickly; then they said goodnight to their parents, shook hands with Bent, and went upstairs.

Their mother got

up, too, and followed them.

The engineer

filled his pipe and offered Bent a cigar. " Thanks," said Bent, " I never smoke." His host laughed. " You can smoke to your heart's content with

this

light

one.

cigar," he Or

do

said. you

" It's a very

refuse to smoke

upon principle ? " " I like smoking very much," said Bent, " but I never do it.

In the first place, it dis-

tracts one's thoughts, and in the second it's not an absolute necessity." As he spoke, a severe, almost an old, expression came into his face.

His host

looked at him sideways, then he drummed thoughtfully on the table with his fingers.

MELTING SNOWS

21

" Hum," he mused after a short pause. " Don't be put out with what I am going to say to you, Sorenson, but I don't like your last remark.

You can be very poor

indeed, and you can still turn out well without cutting yourself off from every trifling pleasure.

I am not speaking only of smok-

ing, but I am certain that you have never in all your life taken a jolly fresh walk, nor have you even been to a concert or a play.

Now, your youth was not given

to you for that sort of thing; it makes the heart grow old too early.

Then

I am

sure that you work too hard ; you look— do not misunderstand me—you look quite dried up.

Any way, you are much, too

much, in earnest about your position." " O n e can never work too hard,"

Bent

answered coldly, " a n d even less could take my position too seriously. eldest son

of a poor

I

I am the

clergyman with

a

large family; my father is old, and I am

22

MELTING SNOWS

naturally

his

allowance

I

only

representative.

make

to

please

Any

myself, any

pleasure I indulge in, would be as good as robbing my people at home.

I think you

will allow that I am right.

Added to all

this, I have now got only two more terms before my final examination, and

then

I

shall have gained my object." T h e engineer pulled away at his pipe till it gave out great puffs of smoke. " T h e r e is no question," he said, "about your place in the examination. certainly get a first-class. doing

you

expect

Y o u will

But how by so

to gain any

object I fail to understand.

particular

H a v e you any

settled prospects, may I inquire ? " "Yes,"

said

Bent, as though he

were

struggling against something; " m y father's patron

will

promised pass. my

take

me

pity

the

will

us.

He

has

place of surveyor if I

When once people

on

be

I have got that place provided

for.

They

MELTING SNOWS

23

won't have any more care : and now you know everything." D e e p bitterness lay in Bent's voice.

He

rose to go. "No,

stay

a

minute,

his host, getting that

both

which

my

Sorenson,"

up too. curiosity

cried

" I see and

clearly

the

lecture

I was preparing to g i v e you

pained you, but on my well by you.

I

honour

I

have meant

know that you are

poor,

I know that you support yourself with difficulty, and therefore

I

had

intended—but

you tell me that you have already got an appointment — I

had

intended

to

propose

that you should come and live with us till you had passed your examination, and that after that you should stay on with us for good.

I wanted you to undertake all the

technical

part

of

my

business.

Do

not

think that it was out of mere selfishness that

I

wanted

you

to

come

simply with a view to profit.

to No,

me, I

or

have

24

MELTING SNOWS

grown very fond of you, and I know that you are a real man in spite of your extreme youth.

Would to God that all young

men were like you.

I have now told you

exactly what I had got in my head, and I say it again, although nothing can come of it.

Now you know what my opinion

of you is, and you may take what I say with a good conscience." He had worked himself up to a pitch of enthusiasm.

Bent was touched by his kind-

hearted offers, and thanked him warmly, but then he said that he must go, for it was late. His host lighted him as far as the gate in the garden. " W e shall always be good friends," he called once more. " A s long as you wish," Bent answered. " And what's more," he continued, " I believe that your kindness by itself will help me. All of a sudden I feel as though I were a better and a happier man."

M E L T I N G SNOWS

25

T h e rain had stopped ; the night was dark and mild ; the clocks struck deep and clear from

every

tower.

Bent

hurried

home.

H e was bursting with joy and pride; the praise of that hard-working man had done him good, and raised him in his own esteem. It seemed to him as though this had been the happiest day in the whole of his life—as though he had suddenly awakened out of great darkness. " Awakened," he said mechanically; "awakened, and then too the spring will soon be here."

H e stood quite still and put his hand

to his forehead.

H e could see himself stand-

ing upon the wet roofs; below him was the world and death, but before him stood a young girl whose hair waved in the spring wind, and who spoke to him in words which were strange to him, yet healing. H e bowed his head and went on further, buried in deep thoughts. " ' Get well,' she said to me," he murmured

26

M E L T I N G SNOWS

softly.

"Get

well, as one would

say to

some one who is ill.

I almost think she is

right.

been ill—ill through

I must

long years.

have

W h a t did she mean

thing she said. well,' and

Certainly she

already

by the

said ' Get

I am a better

and a

happier man." Then a sudden head.

thought

H e got quite hot.

came into his " How stupidly,

how ungraciously I behaved," he said; " s h e saved my life.

I only stared at her ; I never

even thanked her."

H e pressed his hands

together and rushed forward as though trying to escape from some terrible idea.

The

fear of being thought ludicrous or ungrateful was unbearable to him.

H e determined to

write a long letter, or else to go to her as soon as possible and beg to be forgiven. " But even then—what me."

will

she think of

H e ran on in the highest excitement.

Suddenly he almost jumped

into the air.

" That's it," he exclaimed, pacified at last.

M E L T I N G SNOWS

27

" That's the thing."

Then he went on his

way

smiling

rejoicing,

and

as

he

went.

Bent Sorenson had indeed conceived a most excellent idea. The

manufacturing

quarter

lay

behind

him ; he was in a region where the lamps shone brightly ; sometimes a carriage rattled by.

The

main

street

was

still

pretty

crowded, and for once in his life Bent felt pleased

to

mix

with

the general

throng

without having any particular object in so doing.

He

stood still in front of

shop-window, and the contents.

looked

every

anxiously in at

There was a great crowd in

front of one of these

shops,

which

was

larger and more brilliantly lighted than the rest; it seemed to be one of the new kind of shops. up

it

A

private carriage had drawn

front of

motionless

in

it. his

The white

coachman

sat

mackintosh,

his

whip held tight to his knee, and the footman was in waiting by the door.

Bent

28

M E L T I N G SNOWS

joined the throng ; he wanted to look at the things in the window, which were arranged in a

very

pattern. there,

attractive

way — almost

in

a

There were many beautiful things many

fruits which he

had

never

seen, and of which the symmetrical grouping attracted him particularly.

Then there

were wild ducks, with their long beaks and their snipe-shaped heads, and green black birds with a gun-shot in their breasts, also white boxes with silver covers full of jam or bonbons. Bent was just going to turn away, when in the topmost row of all he caught sight of some flowers—dead white things huddled in was

silver a

paper,

fresh

and

beside

these

there

blue bunch of violets.

He

turned at once and stood in front of window, jingling the eight

thalers,

the

which

he had just received with a sort of secret satisfaction, in his pockets.

" That

would

be splendid," he thought; " I am rich for

MELTING SNOWS

29

the minute, and besides that, she said something about violets." With great determination he walked into the shop.

It was full of people, and he

had to wait some time before a fat busy woman came up to serve him. "What

can

I get for you, s i r ? " she

said. " I wanted to buy a bunch of violets," Bent

answered,

attempting

to

give

his

words an air of extreme indifference. " B e good enough to step over here, sir." And she pointed to a wooden shelf where a perfect mountain of bouquets were piled together. Bent

grasped

the

penetrating glance.

situation

with

one

He took the smallest

that he could discover, and inquired the price of it as calmly as he could. " One thaler and a half, sir, please." Bent was struck dumb with horror.

In-

deed, this was nearly the fourth part of

3o

MELTING SNOWS

his money, and he had already calculated so carefully the way in which he would spend it.

Two thalers for general expenses, four

for his lodging, one for washing. In order to breathe a little he began to test the scent of the flowers. " H o w can the violets be so expensive?" he asked presently. " Because it isn't spring yet," the woman answered impatiently, and her eyes began to wander to another part of the shop where a new customer was waiting for her. " O h , " said Bent, " I thought the spring had come already." A young girl who was with an elderly lady and gentleman turned round swiftly. Bent paid for the flowers and left the shop.

When he got outside he stood in

front of the window and wondered what the price of the other things could be if a little bunch of violets cost so vast a sum of money.

He

was just

turning

away

MELTING SNOWS

31

when he noticed by the furthest end of the show-window clothes.

a

small

H e r arms

child

in

miserable

were wrapped

torn ragged apron, and she was

in her

shivering.

S h e had drawn close to the brilliant panes, and

big tears

rolled down her

little thin

cheeks. As

a rule,

misery,

but

Bent

never

to-day

he

noticed was

sudden pity, and approached

outside

seized

with

the child

as

though unconsciously. "What

is the

matter

with

thee?"

he

asked her gently. T h e child lifted its head and looked him full in the face. the bunch of

H e r eyes lingered, too, on to

say :

speak—you

who

have money enough to buy yourself

such

" Yes,

you

violets, may

as

well

though

flowers." Bent was embarrassed, for he was afraid the passers-by would notice them.

H e bent

down, and almost tenderly he s a i d —

32

MELTING SNOWS

" Say, my child, what ails thee ? " The small child began to cry more passionately.

" I am so hungry," she whispered

at last almost unintelligibly. Bent still held his change in his hand, and he now gave it quickly to the child, saying— " Take it, and give some to your mother too," then he tried to escape. But the little girl had scarcely seen the silver when she ran after him and insisted upon kissing his hand. get

Bent could scarcely

rid of her; he grew red-hot, for he

saw

that

many

of

the

passers-by

were

watching him, some with surprise, others with approval. In the meantime the carriage with the tall brown horses had drawn up to the door of the shop ; the servant put in several parcels, and then stood beside it, hat in hand.

The horses pawed impatiently on

the pavement, but were held in

firmly.

A

MELTING SNOWS

young

33

lady stood at the open door and

watched Bent with a peculiar expression. " Vien pure, Giacinta," a woman's voice called from the carriage. Then the door was banged to, the servant jumped to the box, and the horses rushed on into the night.

B y the light 01

the carriage lamps Bent saw a pale face with

great

dark

eyes, which

were

once

more turned upon him. H e stood still as though struck by lightning, but his lips moved gently: " Giacinta —Giacinta," he repeated to himself. T h e next day Bent went to college as usual.

When luncheon time came, he went

off in search of a fellow-student whom he knew slightly, and who was the tame cat of professors' wives, and largely frequented aesthetical tea-parties.

Bent asked him what

was the proper visiting hour.

T h e young

man scarcely believed his ears; but having looked laughingly at Bent, and taken him c

34

M E L T I N G SNOWS

in from head

to

toe, he vouchsafed

desired information.

the

Eleven to one were,

he said, the hours for visits of ceremony, three to five those for more informal calls. He

then

latter

volunteered

were

pretty

preferable

daughters

coffee.

the

in

fact

where

the

that

the

there

were

and

good

case

If Bent felt any desire to attend

an audience at the Kulturmeister, he must strongly advise him to select the hours of eleven to one, and also to put on a frockcoat, white tie, and his orders. Bent thanked him politely. ally

at

eleven

he

left

the

But punctulecture-room.

When he got home, he took out his black coat and looked it over with some attention ; the

good

old

thing

had

originally

been cut for his father, but it fitted him well, and he looked quite fine when it was on. drew

T o give a on

a

pair

finish of

to his toilette, he clean

cotton

gloves

which had just emerged from Frau Bitter-

MELTING SNOWS

lich's wash-tub.

He

then

35

picked up his

violets, and in great trepidation went across to the next house.

As

he pushed

the heavy door a head appeared window on the ground was

floor.

at

The

open the head

covered with an untidy fuzz-bush of

hair, and

its

the look

of a policeman

papers of

owner devoured Bent with

some

suspicious

was quite enough to upset

examining person.

the This

Bent, but he

survived, and went on up to the first floor. A notice was stuck up, saying that it was to let.

The next floor was inhabited by

some unknown gentleman, an agent of the Bourse — according

to the plate

on

the

door; but there was no notice at the righthand entrance, so Bent took courage, and rang the bell.

A servant girl, with a pile

of plates in her arms, opened it, and asked what he wanted. lysed.

He

had

He stood as though paranever

contemplated this

obstacle; he didn't even know the name of

36

M E L T I N G SNOWS

the

people

he

had

come

to

call

upon!

A n d he suddenly asked himself whether it was possible to call on a young lady without knowing something of her belongings. H e grew purple, and stammered out something ; but the maid repeated the question, then lost her patience, and

slammed

the

door in his face. There was nothing for it but to beat a retreat.

Sadly,

down the stairs.

therefore,

he

crept

H e felt absolutely miser-

able and ashamed of himself. over

now — the

back

expensive

It was all

violets

would

wither away, and his thanks would wither with them.

It was hard indeed.

disgusted him;

His room

he sat himself down and

felt inclined to howl. Suddenly he jumped up, and the rotten old chair went with a crash to the ground. He

rushed

downstairs

to

his

landlady.

" Madam," he said, with absolute composure, " I want to get another book out of my

M E L T I N G SNOWS

box.

May

37

I trouble you once more for

the key ? " " Here it is, sir," answered Frau Bitterlich, wiping her hands, which were always wet.

" Here it is.

W h y have you come

back from college so early ? " " Because,

dear

thing better

madam,

I

have

to do," Bent answered

somevery

gently, and then he went away in his usual quiet manner.

But

hardly had

he

shut

the door when he changed his pace and went rushing up to the top of the house. His

hands

trembled

so

with

excitement

that he could scarcely open the trap-door. He

drew

himself together

effort, breathed

a deep

with

a

great

breath, and then

pulled the bolt of the last door, and came out into there.

the

air.

Thank

God

she was

Hearing the noise she turned her

head, and her eyebrows contracted unconsciously ; but when she saw Bent standing before her, radiant with joy, and holding

38

MELTING SNOWS

his bunch of violets, she shut up her book, and a little smile crept over her face.

Bent

was steadier on his legs this time.

He

crossed the flat roof, and as he walked he repeated to himself the speech he had composed with so much care, then he bowed, and began in grim earnest. " A l l o w me," he said, " t o inquire after your health, and also once again to offer you my sincerest thanks for the kindness you

showed

moreover,

me

to

yesterday.

present

Allow

you with

some

me, of

these flowers, which are honoured by your preference, and accept " " G i v e them to me," she said quite simply, " a n d now listen.

I take your flowers, not

because I at all wish you

to think

that

you are indebted to me in any way—there is no question of that—but I take them to remind me of a good deed which I saw yesterday.

You, sir, to give me pleasure,

made a great

sacrifice, but

you

did

not

MELTING SNOWS

39

hesitate a single minute to mitigate a sorrow which had nothing to do with you.

You

put your gift secretly in the hands of a poor little girl, and then you ran away for fear that any one should notice what you had done.

It was good of you—it was

noble, and for that

reason

I take

your

flowers, and thank you from my heart." Her voice trembled. Bent's

hand

with

her

She gently pressed small

fingers.

A

mist crept over his e y e s : " Giacinta," he said quite low, " Giacinta." A faint flush went over her fair young face. " T h e n you know my n a m e ? " she said, smiling.

" All

right.

It

isn't

But there is one more thing.

a

secret.

Never give

me any more presents ; never commit such a folly for me, then we can go on being friends.

You understand me ? "

Bent seemed disturbed in his mind. " You are so good to me," he stammered,

40

MELTING SNOWS

" but just

for

once you

must allow

me

to" H e plunged into his pocket and pulled out a large copy-book. " Do, please, take it," he said shyly; " it would make me so happy " "Oh,

how nice!" said

delighted.

the young

girl,

" T h e s e must be poems?"

" P o e m s ! Oh no," accent was hurt.

said

Bent, and

his

" This is something much

better than poetry—something of practical tt

use. She

opened her

copy-book,

looked

of

course at the first page, and seemed somewhat

astonished.

On the title page

was

written—" Inquiry into the Higher Hyperboloid.

Dedicated with gratitude and deep

esteem by Bent Sorenson, Studiosis, to one who saved his life."

She looked up at him

and seemed half frightened. "Good

God!

what

t h i s ? " she gasped.

is the meaning

of

" Hyper —boloiden."

MELTING SNOWS

4»

Bent gathered himself together, and then with immense satisfaction he began to explain as follows : " Hyperboloids

or

hyperbolas

of

the

higher class are curved lines in which the major axis is related to the perameter as the product of any power of the sum of the minor axis and abscissa into any power of the abscissa is to the semi-ordinate varsio to a power whose exponent is equal to the sum of the other exponents.

There are also cubic

biquadratic and hyperbolic hyperboloids." It

was

really charming of her not to

laugh aloud.

She had every wish to do

so, but she restrained herself. "It

must

indeed

be interesting,

Herr

Bent Sorenson—for you see I know your name, too, now—but to tell you the truth, I don't understand a single word of it.

You

must explain it all to me sometime at your leisure.

But for the

time being, it isn't

the right thing for us to be walking about

42

MELTING SNOWS

together on the house - tops. bours will begin to gossip.

T h e neigh-

So go back quite

quietly to your rooms, and come and see us this afternoon in a conventional way.

I,

in the meantime, will tell my aunt that you are coming.

W e live on the third floor."

A light came into Bent's eyes.

She only

lived one floor lower down than he did! There was no great gulf between them. H e could have sung aloud for joy.

But

then he hesitated—how did this information fit in with what he had seen yesterday evening when Giacinta had flown by like a vision from that world of splendour which was all unknown to him, and which inspired him with such great terror? T h e young girl guessed his thoughts. " W e are not rich," she said, smiling sadly ; " a n d as for the carriage in which you saw me yesterday, it simply belongs to one of the well-known people of this town to whom we had brought letters of introduction.

He

MELTING SNOWS

43

is one of my aunt's old friends," she continued, with a strangely ringing voice, " a n d he takes care of us here.

You will hear

all about him later on, and now I have one thing more to tell you.

My excellent

aunt is a somewhat remarkable personality. She is horribly sincere, and sometimes takes the greatest pains to express her most secret thoughts as openly as she can.

If

she

should happen to be a little rude to you, forgive her for my sake.

She loves me

passionately," the girl added, with a sad smile, " a n d she imagines that only a prince, or

some

such fabulous

worthy to know me. what to expect. bowed

So now you know

If you have the courage,

come and see us. She

being, would be

and

I shall expect you." turned to go.

Bent

noticed that she had forgotten her book. H e picked it up and gave it to her, half open.

A s he did so, he saw that it was a

volume of verses.

44

MELTING SNOWS

"You are fond of poetry?" he asked in astonishment. It dawned upon him that he had perhaps been too lavish with his dedication of the " Higher Hyperboloids." The young girl smiled. " I love it so well," she said, "that I even banish myself to the house-tops to abandon myself to its charm. I know that no one will disturb me here. Oh, your German songs are beautiful! I have heard that in Germany all young men write lyrics. Do you ? " "No," answered Bent, in a tone of dejection. '' Poems are not of the slightest use. They are idly contrived rhymes, which entirely fail in all practical meaning." Half sadly she looked up into his face. " They are not idle rhymes," she said, "for it is certain that a happy heart never produced a great poem. All poems are not invented either—the loveliest and the best were lived. Poetry is deep pain ; it is

MELTING SNOWS

45

the love of G o d ; it is the part of poetry to speak to men, to make them larger

and

to make them better—two things which we all of us are terribly in need of.

And I

believe that those who have the misfortune not to love Poetry are in her debt." This gentle reproof made Bent feel quite ashamed of himself.

" I f you think that

making verses is of any use," he blurted out, " I , too, will try my hand at it.

It

certainly can't be a difficult matter, for many have succeeded." She merely smiled, and nodded to him. Bent went back to his room as though he were dreaming.

He locked himself in.

He

went to the window, and he stood there for an hour or more pressing his forehead against the cool pane of glass.

Outside the

air was grey, and the rain drizzled down ; the people in the street below looked to him, under their umbrellas, like wandering toadstools, and the

children

sailed small

46

MELTING

SNOWS

ships along the swollen gutters. tiously opened the window.

A warm stream

of air came in to meet him. he murmured

softly.

H e cau-

" South wind,"

Then he threw the

sash wide open, and sat himself down to his writing-table, determined then and there to compose a beautiful poem. the ode for a metre, because

H e selected it at least

contained a certain amount of strength and concentration; he then took down a dusty Horace which he had discovered in a corner of his book-shelf, and by way of an example he copied out the lines : " Integer vitae, scelerisque purus.

" There," he said, " so much for the form ; that being come."

the

chief

point, the rest will

He bent his head over the paper for

some minutes, then suddenly he looked up with an expression of indescribable amazement.

He had made the important discovery

that the form alone—absolutely by itself, and without any sort of original thought—was

MELTING

nothing.

SNOWS

He was stunned.

47

He read the

poem through once more, lingering thoughtfully over the last lines of the strophe : " Pone sub curru nimium propinqui Solis in terra domibus negata : Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo, Dulce loquentem."

T h e only conclusion which he arrived at was, that Lalage was not to be compared for beauty with Giacinta.

Next he began to

cover his paper with a series of elaborate G's, and then he suddenly stopped short. " T h e ode is useless," he said aloud;

"the

form of it is perhaps too old-fashioned.

I

must take some metre which I understand better, which is more expressive."

H e ran

through the poems which he had had to learn as a child, but found nothing which at all suited his purpose. ened up.

At last he bright-

He seized his pen and wrote : " Lenore fuhr u'ms Morgenroth, Empor aus schweren Träumen."

48

M E L T I N G SNOWS

"That's metre

has

it," a

he

called

pleasing

aloud.

sort

of

"This regularity

about i t ; the lines somehow belong to one another."

Again

he

began

to

rack

his

brains, but in spite of the admired symmetry of the metre he had hit upon, he found that it was perfectly impossible to produce a single line with sense in it.

H e could not even

evolve the smallest rhyme, good or bad.

By

slow degrees it dawned upon him that some particular quality was needed to be a poet, and that He into

in this thing he was

deficient.

leant his head on his hand and fell deep

thought.

Some

of

Giacinta's

words came back to him : " A happy heart never produced a great poem." " That's it," he cried, jumping up.

"I

can't write a poem to-day because my heart is too full and too happy—because

I shall

see you again, Giacinta—see you again at once, and to-day." A

gust of wind

came

in through

the

MELTING SNOWS

49

open window; it was getting dusk in the streets below.

F o r a little while longer he

gazed out into the twilight, then he went off slowly to the next house. floor

he encountered the

turned him

away

On the second maid who had

in the morning.

She

was crouching on the ground, and scouring the steps.

Her arms were scarlet.

excuse me for having

" Please

bothered you this

morning," Bent said gently;

"I

had for-

gotten the floor." People

were not usually polite to the

poor girl, and she looked up at Bent in astonishment.

He

walked

on

cautiously

over the wet stairs and came to a high glass door:

" Signora Galieri, Vicolo Giu-

liano 55," was printed on a visiting card above the bell. T h e yelping of a small dog answered Bent's ring.

Then

Giacinta opened the

door and asked him to come in. '' I told my aunt that you were coming,' D

50

MELTING SNOWS

she said. good

" The dear Zia is in a particularly

humour this evening."

She

spoke

rather loud, and turned her head as she did so towards the next room. Then she led the way through a pleasant little dining-room, pushed back a portiere, and they entered an immense hall, where semi - darkness

reigned.

In

the furthest

corner a hammock was slung, and a lady of about forty was reclining in it.

Her hair

was all frizzled, and she was somewhat corpulent.

B y her side there was a small table,

with nick-nacks and a plate full of oranges ; above her head a beautiful parrot, with gorgeous plumage, swung in his gilded ring. She sat up. " See,

my

aunt," the young girl

cheerfully, "this is Mr.—Mr.

said

his name

begins with Bent—that much I have mastered. He wanted to be introduced to you, and I think it is very good of him to come out to see us in spite of this bad weather."

MELTING SNOWS

51

Bent had made two of his patent bows during the above speech.

H e now stood

in front of Giacinta's aunt, and felt decidedly embarrassed by the look which this lady riveted upon him. The examination was soon over. " Ma che ! " she said to Giacinta, shrugging her shoulders with unutterable scorn.

"Che

poveretto!" She then threw herself back in her hammock with perfect composure, and began a lengthy discourse upon all sorts of topics. She mixed up German and Italian in a quite merciless manner.

She talked of the bad-

ness of the weather, and then she described the misery of living in the North, where the sun was never seen, and people were so wanting

in

where

the

" gentilezza."

This theme was particularly congenial to the worthy lady, and, anxious to accentuate her horror of the many shady sides to the question, she suddenly launched into a

52

MELTING SNOWS

description of " I talia bella." H er eyes flashed; rarer and ever rarer became the

German

words, till at last whole sentences ran into her mother-tongue.

Giacinta had taken her

work, and Bent sat there between them, and listened.

Sometimes he lifted his eyes,

and he saw before him the lovely little head of the girl—her

dark eyebrows, and her

thoughtful delicate profile.

Soft words which

he could not understand swam in his head, and amongst them now and again he caught a German phrase in a strange accent: " blue water,"

"a

land

of

flowers,"

" j o y , " or "eternal youth." the rain

room, of

and

"sunshine,"

It was dark in

very quiet, and only the

spring trickled over the

window-,

panes. Suddenly Madame Galieri stopped. " O f all these things you are absolutely ignorant," she said scornfully.

She turned

on her side, peeled an orange, and without further ado stuck a bit into Bent's mouth ;

MELTING SNOWS

53

then she sighed, complained of the general boredom of living in Germany, and asked for a jumped

pack

of

patience cards.

Giacinta

up, lighted a candle beside her,

and then drew her chair nearer to Bent. " C o m e , " she said, smiling, " w e can talk together, you and

I, now.

My aunt is

for the time being entirely engrossed in her cards.

One must never thrust them upon

her, but when she asks for them it is all right.

First of all you must tell me about

your childhood, about your father's house, and your home in the North ; I love to hear of childhood's joys, and of home," she added rather sadly. Bent obeyed.

He

spoke of Jutland—

the silent, melancholy land, with its beechwoods and its cool blue fiords ; its interminable heaths, where the larks sing songs in spring-time, and the thistledown blows when the autumn comes.

Then he told of

the barrows, where solitary birches love to

54

grow,

MELTING SNOWS

forcing

their

knotty

branches

to

swing upon the little hills through sheer perverseness.

And then he spoke of the

marshes, which had

never

been

trodden

by the foot of man, and which lie so black, so deadly still, they almost frighten one— there is no sound about them save the whirring of the snipe's wings and the wailing cry of the plover.

H e told her of

their short-lived twilight days, of the interminable winter nights, of the November storms which roar across the land and drive the snow up into great drifts, like mountains, till they block up roads and villages, and cut off their inhabitants, sometimes for weeks together, from fellow - men.

communication Yet

with

these dull, silent

their Jut-

landers, with their heads of flaxen hair, and their gigantic bodies bent with hard work, love their country with a love that its storms, its marshes, and its desolation can only strengthen ; they love it with a

MELTING SNOWS

55

something of dumb faith ; they live a .life which has no change, no sound, no joy. There

they live, penned

up

within

the

narrow limits of dull and tedious duties, their necks bent double before their God and before the bailiffs.

And it was the

same thing over again in the poor parsonage, Bent said, on the western coast.

In ab-

solute solitude the years went by ; the day's work was always mapped came;

there was

out

never any

before it excitement,

never any fresh food for the intellect; the only books which the children were allowed to read during their scanty leisure were a couple of old religious tracts and the state calendar.

Certainly

it

cheerful picture which

was

not

Bent had

a

very

painted

for Giacinta: there was no touch of any childish joy to be remembered, no ring of laughter; nothing but monotony, and one long tale of toil and struggle with work.

hard

56

MELTING SNOWS

"Once," said Bent, " I sonage

in Germany,

heard of a par-

which

smothered in linden-trees. beautiful indeed!

they

say

is

That must be

We never had a linden."

He went on speaking, and his voice was so calm, it seemed as though he were contented with the things he said; but behind his words, although he did not know it, there lay a fund of deep renunciation.

His

tale soon disappeared, it ran away as little streams run into the sands.

He had nothing

more to say, and timidly he looked up at Giacinta to see whether he had not wearied her.

But it did not seem as though he had.

She had put her arms on the table; head rested upon her hands. him intently.

her

She watched

Sometimes the Signora turned

up her cards with an exclamation ; her parrot had swung himself, half-dead with sleep, upon his ring. " Y o u r life was not a happy one," she said; " mine was less happy still.

I never

MELTING SNOWS

57

knew my mother; my father was a distinguished officer; he fell for his king.

I was

left alone in the world, and my aunt adopted me.

She was a very celebrated singer in

her day, and I hope to follow her.

I, too,

sing, and mean to earn my living by my voice." She spoke in a tired, indifferent sort of way, as though she were describing a stranger, not herself; but Bent was profoundly touched. Surely he had his parents still, his brothers, his sisters, and a home.

How rich he was

compared to this lonely little child from a foreign land!

Certainly he had to work,

but that was only natural; he was used to it. But she must wander from place to place, singing for money, stared at and gaped at by a thousand eyes.

H e had never been to

a concert or at a theatre, but he remembered the portrait of a singer which he had seen somewhere years ago.

She had a panther's

skin across her naked breast, and a wine-

58

MELTING SNOWS

glass in her hand.

Was it possible that this

girl, who was now so near the flowers, would ever grow into a creature like that one ? Never again!

A pain was in his heart, and

he began to speak in a disconnected, harsh sort of way.

A perfect storm of pain and of

passion came up from the depths of his soul. The young girl sat in front of him very quiet; her eyes were full of tears.

He had

never once complained of his own fate; he had made no comment on his own sad uneventful life, but the sorrows of others stirred his heart; they set his brow aflame, and brought resentful words

back to his lips.

Ah, he was good—she remembered how he had given the money to the beggar's child. That was merely a passing wave of pity ; how much more lasting was the good which he had done her now by offering her his genuine and his lively sympathy!

He was

comforting her as well as he could—the poor big boy in his ill-fitting coat, and the voice

M E L T I N G SNOWS

59

which trembled with excitement.

H e cer-

tainly had no suspicion of the effect he was producing on Giacinta's lonely heart, which panted so for love.

H e suddenly turned shy,

stopped, and began to twist his hat about. " C a r a mia, are you enjoying yourself," called the Signora, as she dealt out a fresh pack of cards. Giacinta started as though from sleep. " Y e s , thank you," she answered calmly; then she turned

to

Bent,

" Do

not

feel

too sorry for me," she said, " I like singing ; indeed, I love it with my whole soul.

I

will sing you something now if you like, and I will do it as well as I possibly can." She spoke very gently, but

round

her

mouth there was a strain and pull, as though she fought with tears.

She rose and went

across the room. " M i a Giacinta, che idea," called her aunt, who seemed vexed and surprised. have

already

practised

too

many

"You scales.

60

MELTING SNOWS

You will work yourself into an illness.

You

are always tired, hoarse, or heaven knows what if the Hofrath asks you to sing, but now, when there is absolutely no reason for it, you settle to sing, and nothing can stop you.

Dio mio !

What a temper !"

" Let me be," the young girl answered quietly.

" I am in the right mood for sing-

ing to-day, and I won't tire myself." She went to the further end of the hall, where it was pitch dark, and she lighted the candles

in the

five-branched

candle-

sticks.

sort

genial

spread

A

of

glow

through the room, which was so large that only the old piano and a bit of the wall were

brightly

gold and

flooded,

showing

silver wreaths

a

with long

lot

of

satin

ribbons and inscriptions to Signora Galieri or the Diva Galieri.

T h e rest of the room

was almost dusk; sometimes a gilded ledge shone out, or the frame of a picture caught the light.

MELTING SNOWS

61

T h e n a flood of chords streamed

into

the hall, and from their midst a wonderful voice, sweet and mysterious, arose : " O primavera gioventù di vita "

it sang. At the first sound the Zia had thrown aside her cards.

She sat up in haste.

seemed as though into

her.

new life had

It

entered

She nodded her head to

the

movement of the music, and she waved her arms in the air.

Then

in triumph

turned to Bent, and her eyes

flashed.

she At

last she could contain herself no longer ; before the last note had died away she sprang from her hammock, and threw herself upon the young girl, covering her with passionate caresses. " Angelo mio, ti farai male—che benedetta ragazza, t' amo troppo—and you, sir, what have you to say to that ?

You are not

in the habit of hearing music of this sort :in your land of bears.

Ah, Giacinta, look,

62

MELTING SNOWS

the

poveretto

is quite

upset.

You

are

indeed an enchantress." Giacinta had passively allowed this torrent of words and caresses to pass over her. When

Bent came up to her she smiled

faintly.

His cheeks burnt as he stood in

front of her, and with a blind look in his eyes he sought for words which he could not express.

She saw into his heart; she

knew what he wanted to say, and it was this : " I seem to stand on a high cliff, and below me I see a brilliant world which I have never trodden, which I have

never

heard of: I see it with the eyes of a stranger, which fain would gaze upon the spring but cannot, for a storm is raging around m e ; great giddiness has fallen on me, and then again I see nothing but only you, Giacinta! And I feel as though I needs must kneel before your

feet, as though it were you

yourself who were the spring." Bent had really stammered something of

MELTING SNOWS

this sort, then he felt that away, get

far away and

63

he must

go

be alone.

He

found his hat, and he took his leave.

The

Signora said something he did not understand, Giacinta nothing.

And so he ran

out into the rain. And

all

night

long

it rained

without

ceasing, as it can only rain at the end of winter.

It

dropped

from

the

roofs,

it

streamed in the gutters ; grey mists crept down so low upon the town, they almost brushed the gables of the houses.

Bent

sat in the college in the morning, and he watched the drops which trickled down the panes; it was so dark in the lecture-room that he could scarcely take down notes. No one was much inclined to work.

The

professor's lecture was dull and monotonous, it seemed to be given in the key of grey like the weather.

At last the clock struck five,

and Bent wandered home through the dripping streets.

His landlady greeted him with

64

M E L T I N G SNOWS

the news that some one was waiting for him upstairs, and had been there an hour. It was a gentleman of the name of von Versen, and a very elegant and pleasant ycung man, Frau Bitterlich said.

H e had had two

candles lighted for him, and was smoking a cigar.

H e had chatted quite pleasantly

with her husband, who was putting up some fresh curtains. nished,

and

Bent was somewhat asto-

he

hurried

upstairs,

for he

thought that von Versen was the name of the young poet who belonged to their table round, and whom he was so much afraid of.

H e was not mistaken.

It was indeed

George von Versen, who jumped up from the sofa and shook hands with him, laughing as he did so. "Confess,"

he

cried,

"that

you

as soon have expected to find the Piper of Hamelin as m e !

would Pied

But it's quite

easy to explain why I am here.

Y o u have

not

for

been

to our

round

table

many

M E L T I N G SNOWS

65

nights, and as we all know your ways and your love of fixed rules, we have come to the conclusion that something we did has put

you

out.

Now

it

me

struck

that

possibly I was the cause of your displeasure

and

your

disappearance,

for

some

time ago I was driven into doing a stupid thing. to

Some of the

recite

knew

my

your

own

horror

men

persuaded

' Wanderlieder.' of

everything

me

They in

the

shape of poetry, and naturally enough they wanted to let you have a little for your own good.

Perhaps I complied too readily

with their wishes.

And as you have never

come back to our meetings since that day, and as I don't want you to be deprived of your one form of amusement just because of a stupid joke, I came here to put the matter quite

openly before you.

When-

ever I feel that I am at all to blame about anything,

I

apologise,

for

cannot

keep

quiet.

I

must

I don't like to leave

any-

E

66

MELTING SNOWS

thing which is not quite straight or clear in the path of my life. And the only other thing I have to say is, that the whole of our small circle agrees with me, and there is not one of them who does not love and respect you as you deserve to be loved and respected." The young fellow spoke with such goodfeeling, and so openly, that Bent was extremely touched. He grasped his visitor's hand, and assured him that it had never entered his head to act the part of an injured person. He had rather broken with his old habits of punctuality during the past days, and his non-appearance was due to that, he said. Anyhow, he would pick up the old thread and come back that very night to their table round. He liked the idea of it. Versen scarcely gave him time to speak. " O h yes," he laughed. "Your landlady has already complained to me of your

MELTING SNOWS

marked falling off lately.

67

In old days you

seem to have come home punctually at ten minutes past five, and left again at seven; but that's all changed, she says, and instead of five, you sometimes don't return till seven, and then you go out at once, and do not appear till well into the night. A s for saying good-bye to her, well, there is no question of such a thing now!

The

worthy woman ended up her complaints by the fact that she considered your return to-day to be most uncertain ; she finally advised me to wait in your room. already settled to do

so, as

I

I had was

de-

termined not to leave till I had gained my point.

So I made myself at home, lighted

a cigar, and had a most improving conversation with your landlord, who instructed me in several household duties appertaining to the middle-class.

When he was gone, and

I had quite filled your room with smoke, I got dreadfully bored, and began an inspec-

68

MELTING SNOWS

tion of your library. The first book I took up was full of nothing but rules, which made me drop it in horror. Don't look so angry, Bent. After all, I did not make myself—ne sutor ultra crepidam. All the other books were like it. Then at last I discovered an oasis in the wilderness, your writing-table—for my beloved Horace lay on your desk, and I was soon buried in his words. I have never taken Horace up in vain, nor let him go without some profit. But I never thought the old poet would help me to such a valuable discovery. I simply laughed for five minutes at a go, and I have now every wish to laugh it all over again. Forgive me, Bent, but it really is too good !" " What ?" asked Bent; " what did you find to amuse you so much ?" "Think! I found this — by the integer vitce—a piece of letter paper, and on it some verses in the metre of the ode. Un-

MELTING SNOWS

69

fortunately they were scratched through, and quite illegible. was

written

But at

least

beside twenty

them

Lalage

times,

and

' Lenore fuhr u'ms Morgenroth' was scribbled after them.

It is really too good.

I,

who came here to ask you to forgive me, thinking I had offended your ear by reading out some of my own verses, find, within the space of fifteen minutes, that you yourself are a worshipper at the shrine of Apollo. Bent, Bent, what a great Tartuffe you are ! " Bent started up in horror and seized the page.

Thank God! there was nothing there

which could in any way betray him. twice his pen had added Gia but it had got no further. a

Once or Gia

,

Gia was not

name, so for once the blow had been

suspended.

H e sat down again, and even

tried to smile, but terror was still imprinted on his face, and he felt himself turning hot and cold. Versen laughed on.

"Are

you

angry

70

MELTING SNOWS

with me for finding out your secret?" he said presently, and getting more in earnest. " Then I must tell you that, for my part, I am delighted to find we have this point in common.

I promise that no one shall hear

of my discovery.

Surely I know that the

blessed

flower

of

Poetry

loves best

blossom

alone,

and that only

when

to her

petals have opened may the wind caress her, not till her scent is abroad in the air may she show her sweetness to mankind. I know this all so well, Bent, and you can trust me.

Will you really trust me, Bent ?

Will you work with me ?

Shall we write

and think together ? " "You sadly.

are

mistaken,"

" I am no poet.

Bent

answered

I never was dif-

ferent to the thing I seemed.

You, all

of you—you know my life, my prospects. How should both grass and flowers spring up from ground like mine ?

Certainly there

has been a great struggle within my soul

MELTING SNOWS

of late.

71

A part of it wishes to arise, wants

to be free, and to fly, God knows whither, but the other presses

me

side refuses to move,

down

like

a leaden

and

weight.

There is a wrestling and a striving feeling within

me;

it

seems

as

though

young

rushing waters were breaking against the ice of a frozen river above them, and were struggling to break through it.

Perhaps you

yourself have felt as I d o ; anyway, you will understand me, unless perhaps it is a mere folly which I have tried to describe " "No,

Bent," Versen cried, jumping up,

"that is not folly; by God, it is not folly! I know means,

the feeling well. I also know.

And

what

It means a

it

revo-

lution, it means a storm, which will break through everything in your soul which is brittle.

It

means

a

catastrophe.

question of life or of death is in it. Bent, be my friend. Two

can endure

The Listen.

Give me your hand.

better

than

one

alone.

72

MELTING SNOWS

Your youth, with its troubles and its poverty, is falling together behind you; you cannot help it.

God alone knows what will become

of you ; but anyhow, it was His breath which brushed across your forehead.

If the storm

which is awaking in you be the storm of genius, or if it be that of some great passion, follow it without a struggle; let yourself go to it, and do not ask for any pledge. Possibly you will be happy, more probably unhappy.

Do not inquire into it, but re-

member this, that sunshine and that lightning both came forth from God.

Y o u will

become a man, different to other men; you will

stand

turmoils, Then,

alone, filled

Bent,

your

with

heart

thought

then, do not

filled

with

and

love.

shut yourself

up, for if you do, you will have suffered in vain.

Everything which you possess—

your burden, your strength, and your love— give it over to mankind, for men are in need of it.

They will call you the knight

M E L T I N G SNOWS

of Mancha.

73

All right, let them ; just lower

your lance and ride on into the sails of the windmill, into the sheep-folds of stupidity. Men may mock you ; shake off their mockery and scorn, as you would shake off raindrops. Keep true and unbiassed, wish for what is great, and without ceasing be good.

In

spite of all this your life will be one continuous struggle, rich only in illusions and in pain.

But on your grave those suns will

some day shine whose glory you foresaw in dreams, and over the forgotten mound the unending tribe of great humanity will wander on towards the distant goal,

the

final fulfilment—into the morning." His lips trembled and his eyes

flashed.

Bent gave him both his hands and leant his head upon his shoulder. " Let me come with you," he said.

" You

are my first, my only friend." F o r a minute they were silent. Versen gently freed himself.

Then

74

MELTING SNOWS

" I t is late," he said cheerfully, "come home with me, Bent. We will get out a bottle of Rhenish wine and drink to our new friendship." Arm in arm they went through the streets ; the lamps burned dimly in the fog, their rays flickered over black pools of water and heaps of half melted snow. Presently Bent stood still. " Listen, George," he said timorously. " Your words have made a deep impression on me. You are right. There is a sort of revolution in my soul which at once delights and terrifies me. But it is not a spiritual storm which has swept over me. I have no genius of any sort. So it must be," he stammered and grew red, "it must be something—that other thing you spoke about. Forgive me, I am absolutely ignorant, and I am alone. No one except you has ever troubled himself about me. I have never discussed these things with

MELTING SNOWS

other people.

75

But why is it that one loves

a young girl with a love which is absolutely different to that love one has given to one's parents and one's brothers ? the love of woman must earthly love.

It follows that be the highest

What exactly is this love,

George ? Your experience is so much larger than mine. say.

You are even a poet, people

You must understand it, and know

all about it." Versen's lips had

contracted

to a half

smile, but he grew earnest at once. " You need a different answer to your question, my dear Bent, than the one I am able to give you.

But unhappily wisdom

stops at this point; no poet and no thinker has ever found a love.

creative

definition for

Chamfort and John the Apostle have

quite different views on the subject.

Love

is the thread of Ariadne, which is intended to lead us through a very dark labyrinth. Unluckily it was woven too short for most

76

MELTING SNOWS

men.

Love is companionship with God.

It is the only human quality which cannot be small.

There is nothing mean in love.

Love is, may be, the reflected splendour of a lost and better world which has lingered with us in our hearts.

Love is the beginning

and the end; the wit of man can never fathom it.

Ask

no wise man, ask

philosopher what love is;

ask

no

it of the

woman you love, ask it of God." " And you yourself," said Bent, after a struggle, " you, George—do you love ? " " W e have only been friends for a few hoors," Versen said in a hoarse voice, " s o your question sounds a little strange to me. But it seems as though I must and should trust you, Bent.

Up to a few days ago I

had never fallen in love, and this was a remarkable fact in our precocious age. have

now learned what love is.

I

It has

come upon me like a stroke, like a sudden awakening.

It

has broken like salvation

MELTING SNOWS

into my land of dreams.

You say that my

love must be a genuine one ? think it must end happily ? times no.

Listen, Bent.

77

It is.

You

No, a thousand I have only seen

that woman once who brought the sunshine into my life so early, and only once have I spoken to her.

I am many miles away from

her, a stranger to her heart, and yet I love her.

I love her with a thousand pains, I

love her far and away better than I love myself, my thoughts, and feelings.

Friend-

ship and my father's house are nothing when compared to her.

For her I would leave

my mother and my God, and would cling to her the more.

Yes, Bent, that is my

love, that is the storm-born love of men, the true love;

and just because it is so

deep, because it came so suddenly, and is so uncontrollable, it will come to an unhappy end." " T h i s cannot be," Bent cried passionately. ''You

yourself

believe

that life rolls on

78

MELTING SNOWS

towards

fulfilment, and

that

love

is its

highest

point.

the

finest

thing

Should

which is given to us bring destruction with it ?

If I believed your words, I should go

mad ; it would be unbearable to me." " I f you doubt it," said Versen, " I will give you a piece of advice.

Never love

without first getting permission from your parents and

your aunts.

Love

homely

things if you hope to attain to that exact degree of happiness which has been prescribed for us.

T h e proverb holds good

with love as with other things, ' Even as you sow, so shall you also reap. Deep scorn lay in his voice. him straight in the face.

Bent looked

A painful and a

terrible question arose within him. " Don't mock me, George," he said, and his voice seemed dead to the ear.

" Does

not love — a first love — overcome all the sorrows of the world?

Is a great love not

saving to the lover, because of the blessing

MELTING SNOWS which lives in it ?

Is

it

not

79 capable of

shielding him from all pain, from all misfortune ?

George, be truthful!

I ask this

in the name of your own love." Versen had stood still.

His face was

dark like night. "It

is one of Nature's laws," he

said,

" t h a t we must fall by our greatest, by our most holy sensations." Below them on the broad river lay the town — the town with its bridges and its towers huddled in night.

T h e quiet roofs,

covered with snow, shone out dimly.

Some-

times a clock struck in a tower, and the leafless trees on the esplanade

shuddered

as the spring-wind touched them. " See," said Versen, " i t is winter there, and all things lie buried in the last snows. They

must sleep.

Then

suddenly

there

comes a suspicion of spring, a warm breath of air, a ring of March.

T h e buds break

forth from the dark prison which held them

80

MELTING SNOWS

so wistfully, so long.

F o r the buds loved

the kiss of the sun-god too well; blossomed too rashly, too soon.

they

Truly the

green which they bore then was the noblest and the loveliest green of the year.

But

they sinned against the natural laws of development, and they vanished in the meltingsnows.

And so it is with men.

Most of

them blossom, ripen, die according to commonplace rules.

A set frost cripples them,

a given sunbeam procures them life.

On

the whole, they get nothing but good from it all.

But when a heart which beats with

higher aims and passion is awakened too early by the kiss of the everlasting

sun,

when the storm of the Beautiful has clasped it too soon, then the floods rush in over it, nothing will turn them in their courses— they are revengeful, they follow given laws. And so a dark

thread runs through

the

being of all great earthly loves—it is the thread of separation, the thread of death.

MELTING SNOWS

81

A n d it is not we alone who must drown in the rising flood ; but that woman, too, whom we have loved so well, will be covered by a dark shadow.

It will touch her forehead

too, however proud she be, however innocent. She will never again be absolutely happy. May be she will wander onward in the light of life for years.

Some day she will remem-

ber that long ago she died, died before she was herself aware of it. with you, Bent ?

W h a t is the matter

Your hand is icy cold."

" I f you can pray, George," Bent groaned hoarsely, " t h e n pray for me.' H e turned abruptly and walked on into the night. W h e n George went to look him up the next day he was not admitted.

Frau Bitter-

lich told him that Bent had a nervous headache, but that he had refused to call in a doctor.

" I won't see anybody," he declared

when she, his landlady, had forced herself F

82

MELTING SNOWS

into his room with a large pot of elder-berry tea.

" I wish to be alone—alone, madam ;

do you understand me."

There was a queer

look about him, she said, and he had gone so far as to stamp upon the ground.

The

good woman seized the opportunity of Versen's visit to break into such a torrent of complaints concerning Bent and his doings, that he was obliged to beat a hasty retreat. When he returned the next day matters were even worse.

Frau Bitterlich declared

that Bent had scarcely touched his supper, and had been heard to rage up and down his room during the night.

H e was now

lying asleep upon his sofa, as Versen might easily prove for himself if he chose to look through the keyhole.

Bent had refused even

to unlock his door that morning.

He had

shouted out that he was better, and that he only wished to be left to himself. George went back home. tressed.

H e felt dis-

MELTING SNOWS

83

" Even if I should have wounded him unintentionally,"

he

said

to himself,

"it

isn't kind of him to bear me a grudge in this sort of way.

All said and done, his is

an austere, almost a hostile nature, and however genuine one's sympathy may be, it is perhaps better not to force it upon him." All this time Bent was indeed lying on the sofa; his head was turned to the wall, but he could not sleep.

As soon as George's

footsteps had died away he got up.

He

made himself tidy and went downstairs.

As

he passed Frau Bitterlich he greeted her kindly.

She was washing-up in the kitchen,

but when she saw Bent she almost dropped a large soup-tureen to the ground in her astonishment.

She recovered herself suffi-

ciently to cast a sour glance at him, but when she realised that he was making for the street she leant over the banisters and entreated him to take his umbrella, for there was a steady downpour.

84

MELTING SNOWS

Bent did not hear her.

He stood on

the doorstep and breathed in the cool fresh air.

The street shone black ; on every side

there was a dripping and splashing of rain, but along by the house there was a narrow strip of dry pavement.

Bent went along it,

crouching close to the wall, and thus he reached the next door in safety.

The water-

spouts went over his head like great cascades. The steps were dirty ; covers of boxes, loose boards, and wisps of straw were scattered all around.

There was a sound of hammering

on the first floor, and it was quite evident that the place was being got ready for new lodgers.

A s he passed by, Bent noticed a

gentleman who was talking to the porter's wife.

This gentleman was no longer young,

but there was a well-preserved look about him, and his face was marked by an expression of extreme politeness as he addressed himself

to the woman.

She bowed and

scraped before him, and he seemed anxious

MELTING SNOWS

85

to get rid of her, and at the same time thoroughly

dignified, as

always should be.

well-bred

people

As Bent passed them

he heard the gentleman s a y :

" Very good,

very good, my dear lady; arrange it all in your own w a y ; but all I ask

is that it

should be comfortable, thoroughly comfortable.

I think you understand me ? "

" The young lady is out," said the maidservant, as she opened the door to Bent; "but

her

aunt

is

at

home,

and

Giacinta will be back very soon. at the Conservatorium.

Miss She is

Will you come in."

Bent had no visiting cards.

He

was

about to leave some small message and to retire, when the door opened and the head of Signora Galieri, bound about with a sort of turban, appeared in the crack. " Entra, entra pure," she cried in a loud voice,

coming

quite

forward.

" Giacinta

will be home directly." Bent was obliged to follow her.

She

86

MELTING SNOWS

led the way into the big hall, and there she put herself into her hammock, groaning as she did so, and complaining loudly that the accursed weather had given her a fit of coughing, a cold, and a gran mal di testa. It was darker than ever in the room, but all the same Signora Galieri wore a large pair of spectacles to protect her eyes; she was enveloped in an atmosphere of scents and cosmetics, amongst which Hoffman's drops and Patchouli strove for the mastery. It was Bent's painful duty to sit down and help her to complain. She complained of everything, but chiefly she lamented her own misfortunes, and the incorrigible habit young people had of coming to this country of Germany—this accursed land, where men were so coarse, so "plump," and all things so bad and so dear. "Now yesterday," she said, "what did the unhappy Giacinta do, but take it into her head to accept some engagement, and to sing, sing at all costs,

MELTING SNOWS

and in public.

87

Off she went entirely on

her own account to the manager, who is no fool of course, and was not likely to let such a chance be offered him twice. And

in this

place—this

bearish

place —

Giacinta's silver voice will be thrown away —wasted—gone for ever.

I cannot con-

ceive what has got into the girl's head. All of a sudden yesterday, with absolutely no warning, she announces that she will no longer be a burden to me—her aunt—that she is determined to get free—free and to give

me

owed me!

back—me—her aunt—what

she

Ah 1' ingrata! as though such

a thing were even possible!

And now,"

continued Signora Galieri, "now all this is working in my poor tired head, and I live in this expensive country " (again the whole torrent of her woes was poured out), " a n d the worst of all is—it is horrible—I have no single soul in whom I can confide— no friend, nothing ! "

88

MELTING SNOWS

At this point her voice broke into that tragic whine which is only known to very old

comedians, and used

the stage. the

by them

upon

But it did not fail to make

deepest impression upon

Bent.

He

stammered something about the genuineness of his sympathy, and he ended by assuring her that, under every circumstance, she could claim one friend, and rely on him implicitly—that friend was himself. Signora Galieri jumped up. "O

che

bravo

giovinotte,

che

nobil

cuore," she cried; "but no, my dear friend, a thousand times no—you cannot help us. You have no idea of all the things which are required for a first appearance in public —the dress, the flowers, all the small extras. No, no, no, it would be purely a matter of money, and money and friendship do not belong to one another; and yet, here in this wild strange country, with everything so dear, and poor Giacinta so ignorant, we

MELTING SNOWS

89

are dreadfully poor—she does not realise how poor we are." She had buried herself in her hammock. H e r small eyes glittered with wickedness behind her spectacles, and she fixed them on Bent.

Lying coiled up thus, she looked

for all the world like a great boa-constrictor. " I am poor," Bent said quickly; " i t all depends upon how much you want.

Please

name the sum," he continued with an effort, and drawing in his breath. She took up a large yellow handkerchief and threw

it over her face.

Then

she

twisted it up, hoping, it seemed, to wring out tears. Presently she spoke in a deep impressive voice, as though horrible secret.

driven "The

to reveal

some

sum—well, as you

needs must know," and again she cast a quick scrutinising glance over Bent—" well, it would be a hundred thalers—a hundred thalers at the very least."

90

MELTING SNOWS

Her words fell slowly, surely, from her lips.

She was able to steep each syllable

in the poison of her mouth.

But if she

had looked forward to seeing

Bent turn

pale, she was disappointed. move.

He did not

His underlip trembled slightly, that

was all.

Had she asked for a thousand

thalers, he would have been just as impassive. cinta

Wasn't it for Giacinta—for Gia-

the

money!

He

looked

at

her

calmly. " I will get the money," he said in a quiet voice, "but only under one condition.

Y o u must never let her hear a single

thing about it. The

Italian

I should woman

" sprang

up.

Her

movement was so energetic, that she nearly upset the parrot and his perch. " Do not alarm yourself on that account," she screeched in a perfect fury.

" Y o u may

feel perfectly happy on that head." At this instant the door was thrust open,

MELTING SNOWS

91

and the maid-servant rushed headlong into the room, and announced " T h e Herr Hofrath." Signora Galieri jumped up from her hammock.

She tore down her turban, rolled her

spectacles up in it, and threw the bundle into a distant corner. " A visitor," she said, looking with a most unmistakable expression at Bent, who had risen.

Just then the Hofrath entered, and

the Signora made a low bow.

Bent hoped

to get to the door unseen, but the visitor saw him, seemed surprised, and motioned him to stop. " I hope I have not disturbed you," he said politely. " N o t at all, Herr Hofrath," said Bent. " I was just about to leave."

He

recog-

nised the gentleman whom he had seen a little time before talking to the porter's wife, and he bowed respectfully. The Hofrath watched Signora movements.

Galieri's

She pointed with marked im-

92

MELTING SNOWS

patience to a chair, and begged him to be seated. " Y o u know my name, I see," said the Hofrath, turning again to Bent.

" I do

not at all want to drive you away, and I have only come for a few minutes.

Per-

haps the Signora would have the kindness to introduce you to me." The Signora laughed in a sour sort of way.

Then she pretended that she could

not remember Bent's name.

At last she

broke out, and said, " Mr. Sor—Mr. Sor— Mr. Sorenson, a student.

We have only

known him a short time." " I am delighted to make your acquaintance,"

said the

cordially.

Hofrath,

shaking

hands

" Have you been up long at the

University ? " They all sat down.

Bent answered the

questions which were put to him very simply and quickly.

The Signora was perfectly

furious; she treated Bent with increasing

M E L T I N G SNOWS

93

familiarity, not to say disdain; but the Hofrath showed great tact, and kept the balance as even as he could.

Bent was quite conscious

of the situation, but he made a thousand excuses for the Signora.

" S h e lives such a soli-

tary sort of life with Giacinta," he thought; " a n d , of course, it is annoying to have me here just when the Hofrath comes to call." T h e n Bent began to wonder how she managed to conceal from state

her guest the bad

of her health, and all her troubles,

and how she could talk and laugh so incessantly.

Certainly the Hofrath, with his

refined look and his kindly smile, must be a person of man. And

importance, and a

well-bred

Giacinta herself had said so. suddenly Giacinta

came

into

the

room ; her cloak was hung over her arm, and raindrops glistened in her hair.

She bowed

slightly, and said something polite to the Hofrath, then half laughing she pointed to her dress, and tried to run away.

But the

94

MELTING SNOWS

Zia caught her, and kindly but firmly drew her towards her.

She dried the plaits of

her hair, which had got loosened, and she poured out a torrent of endearments and pity.

The young girl bore it patiently;

but there was something almost uncanny in her resignation ; and it struck Bent that her eyes had never once moved throughout the whole of this performance. T h e Hofrath chaffed the Signora about her loving ways, then he turned to Giacinta. " Why in all the world should you expose yourself in this way, Fraulein ? W h y should you run risks of catching cold when there is a cabstand at the very door of Conservatorium ?

your

Do you want to practise

the part of Undine in dead earnest ? you anxious to feel

Kiihleborn's

Are

element

as it really existed ? " T h e young girl slowly freed herself from her aunt. " I have not been to the Conservatorium,"

MELTING SNOWS

95

she said very quietly.

" I have just come

from the opera-house.

I went to talk with

the manager about our agreement." " D i o mio," screamed the Signora, terrified out of her wits. stand

why

she

Bent could not under-

was

so

frightened

and

surprised, for surely she knew all about it before ; she had told him so herself.

The

Hofrath's head fell forward on his breast. " A f t e r all," he murmured. Giacinta had drawn herself up, her whole body, which was usually so full of movement, seemed turned to stone. " M y first rehearsal will be in a few days. I am to sing an air of Scarlatti's, with piano accompaniment, and also the

' assis'al

pie

d' un s a l i c e ; ' after that some things out of Undine with the full orchestra.

T h e result

of the rehearsal will decide whether I can be taken or not. excuse me.

So

I must b e g you to

I shall want to keep absolutely

quiet during the next few days."

96

MELTING SNOWS

She bowed and went towards the door. She pushed the curtain aside, and her eyes rested full and clear upon Bent. A short and rather painful pause ensued. The Signora could not catch the eyes of her distinguished guest, and she tore at one of the tassels of the sofa in a state of absolute and uncontrolled dismay. came off in her hand.

At last the tassel Bent made a move-

ment as though to go, and the Hofrath seconded him.

He

with the Signora.

shook

hands

coldly

She had a sort of hang-

dog expression on her face, but she said she hoped to see him soon again ; she did not even acknowledge Bent by one single glance,

and

they

left

the

room.

The

porter's wife was looking out on the first floor. "Ah,

Herr

Hofrath," she

began,

"I

wanted most humbly to ask you whether the red curtains were not

"

" M y dear lady," he said, " I must entreat

MELTING SNOWS

you

to

excuse

me.

I

97

have

really

no

time." They had got into the street, and the Hofrath looked at the sky.

It was clearing

a little. " I think we can walk home,

Mr.—Mr.

Sorenson is your name, I believe ?

You

know it was impossible to make head or tail of Madame Galieri's confused introduction.

Have you time ? are you willing to

come a bit of the way with me ? Of course if you should have anything better to do Bent hastened

?"

to accept the invitation,

and with his accustomed politeness stepped to the left side of his companion. went a little way in absolute silence. body bowed as they passed.

They Every-

When they

came to the big square of the opera-house the Hofrath slackened his pace, and finally stood still altogether. " Let me ask you one or two questions, Mr. Sorenson," he said, in a voice of decision. G

9»

MELTING SNOWS

" Have you known Madame Galieri and her niece for any length of time ?" "Only a few days," Bent answered; "but the Signora told you this herself." "Hum,"

said the

Hofrath,

"and

that

was the very reason why I wished to ask you again.

I feel convinced that you are

a young man of good taste, and that you have been far too well brought up not to speak

the truth

to an

older

man

than

yourself when he asks you to help him. Thank you for your answer.

Please don't

think that I am speaking like this merely from a sense of idle curiosity.

I may as

well confess at once that I take the deepest interest in these ladies.

Frau Galieri was

a celebrated singer in her d a y ; her niece is the descendant of a very good family, but of a poor one.

They came with letters of

introduction to me, and I have done my very best to smooth their path for them. It was I who succeeded in getting Fraulein

MELTING SNOWS Giacinta

her admission

99

to the

Conserva-

torium ; and it was certainly no easy matter, for there is the same bitter opposition put in the way of foreigners here, as in every other part of Germany. ought

T h e young lady

to have continued her studies

for

another year at least under the care of her aunt.

She knew this ; everything was settled

—but suddenly, without giving any notice, she declares that she means to abandon her aunt, and to work for her own living.

It

is absolutely useless to argue with her, or to attempt to dissuade her.

She wearies of

opposition, and off she goes to the manager of the theatre and insists upon his making some

engagement

for her.

I

can

only

imagine that some new element has come into her life, and that this has influenced her

and

brought

about

this

change in her behaviour. it be ?

extravagant

But what can

She lives such a very retired life—

she never sees

a

new

person

or

thing!

100

MELTING SNOWS

Well, if it turns out that she succeeds in getting this engagement,

I can only say

that it will be a misfortune—a real misfortune ! " H e seized Bent by one of his coat buttons, and looked him full in the face. Bent did not exactly know what he was expected to say, but at last he spoke. " I think," he said, "that Signorina Giacinta's sudden resolution can be explained. Probably a sense of her own powers has dawned

upon

her, and she realises

that

she is enough of an artist to go her own way.

If she succeeds, and I fully believe

that she will succeed, I can see nothing unfortunate about it—only something good and beautiful." The Hofrath drove his umbrella into the nearest puddle and made the water splash out in all directions. " I f she succeeds, if she succeeds ! " he cried in scorn ; " but she will not succeed ;

MELTING SNOWS

101

mark my words, she cannot !

I know the

stage and its ways better than you, and I know all the difficulties which a young débutante has to fight against.

She must

be made of flints, she must be blind to everything around her, if she hopes to force her way.

Many have turned aside from

the shame and the worry of the thing ; many have thrown it over, and not a few young people of genius have thus been deprived of their art.

And then, have you

any notion of the sort of cabals which are circulated about a début ?

This début, in

particular, will be a centre of them. think of it !

Just

A foreigner, a pupil straight

from the Conservatorium suddenly appearing on the stage of the Court Theatre.

It is

quite enough to excite all manner of criticism, envy, and ill-feeling.

There will be

a perfect hurricane of abuse. to think of what will follow.

I hardly dare It will be

the usual thing : a paid opposition, a paid

102

MELTING SNOWS

claque, groans and hisses, maddening applause, and in the midst of all this commotion the poor girl standing absolutely alone, and without a notion of how to behave on the stage. It is horrible! and the worst of it all is, that one is quite powerless to help her, and simply forced to sit there and look on. Can't you grasp the situation, Mr. Sörenson ? Do you still see the thing in such a rosy light ?" He threw open his coat in a nervous sort of way. Bent was much excited. " I cannot bring myself to believe," he murmured, "that some hundreds of people could be so cowardly — so mean as so insult a girl alone. And then I am certain that Fräulein Galieri's appearance, if nothing else, will be enough to impress the roughest, the " " You are entirely mistaken, young man, entirely mistaken. That monster with a hundred heads — I mean the public —

MELTING SNOWS

makes

no allowances,

103

feels no pity.

It

will only tolerate the thing which pleases it.

It wishes to be amused for its money.

If it is not satisfied, it continues to roar. And as to her voice—how can you, after your short acquaintance, pronounce so strong an opinion on it ? " "She

was

something

good

the

first

enough

to sing

me

day I called on her

aunt," Bent answered.

" S h e sang a song

about the spring—quite a small thing, but it

was

so

wonderfully sweet, that I am

never likely to forget it.

It is certain that

with a voice like that she

will

triumph.

And then," Bent added, bubbling over with enthusiasm, "then she is prouder than any one on earth, and so marvellously beautiful." An almost imperceptible pallor crept over the old man's face. " I her

never sing

had the good luck to hear

anything

beyond

some

tedious

T04

MELTING SNOWS

exercises," he

said dryly; " but that was

enough, and I was able to form from it an

opinion

your own.

which differs essentially from Her voice is certainly beautiful,

and her technique is faultless—it is almost surprising clouded

at

times.

But

the

whole

is

by one terrible defect, and it is

this defect which leads me to dread the worst for her.

Fräulein Galieri began to

sing too early. yet

her

struction.

She

is

barely

eighteen,

voice is already doomed to deIt cannot, and it will not, stand

the strain which any fixed engagement at the theatre must necessarily impose upon it.

I believe that it will hardly

the first rehearsal.

survive

Her part is not at all

an easy one; the house is large, the orchestra

is very strong, and last, but not

least, the rendering of the German words, which are quite new to her, must mean a terrible tax upon her strength. own part, I can

feel

For my

no sort of illusion

M E L T I N G SNOWS

105

upon the result of her début.

There will

be

catastrophe,

some

catastrophe — some

my dear sir, in spite of all you may to the contrary.

say

But now I have dragged

you home as far as my own door.

Please

forgive me for having kept you so long The

affairs

of

these

ladies

concern me

very closely." A

porter in a long coat and a three-

cornered hat had already opened the door, and

was

threshold.

standing

motionless

upon

the

T h e Hofrath stopped, as though

he expected

Bent

to

say something,

but

as he was silent he stepped back quickly into

the

hand.

and

seized

There was an almost

in his eyes. "if

street,

him

by the

wistful look

" Dear Mr. Sörenson," he said,

you have the smallest influence with

Fräulein Galieri, use it to make her abandon this terrible project of hers. be of use to you, or please

If I can ever you in any

sort of way, only let me know.

I am at

106

MELTING SNOWS

your service.

Good-bye now.

you too long.

I have kept

I must make an effort and

leave you." He let Bent go, but in spite of what he had said, he stood there on the steps and watched him disappearing.

When Bent

turned the corner the Hofrath still stood on, as though he had forgotten something. His hat was on the back of his head, his hands were buried in the pockets of his stylish well-cut overcoat, and there was a helpless sort of look upon his smooth and kindly face. Bent ran home and wrote for money. had never done such a thing before. a few days ago he would have

He Only

laughed

at the bare possibility of his present proceeding, but now the letter seemed an easy thing to write.

When he sealed it up, he

scarcely even knew what it was about, but he was conscious that it ought to be sent off at once.

The train to the North started at

MELTING SNOWS

eight. left.

107

He had only about twenty minutes H e ran to the station and looked out

for the post-carriage.

A s he lifted the lid

of the box the third signal sounded.

This

reminded him of the day when he had stood in the same place saying good-bye to his father, who had brought him up to the university. He distinctly saw the strong man's head, with tufts of hair turned early white, and once more he heard quite clearly the stern voice trembling as it said : " God will bless you, my son, for you are our only hope and our support."

For one instant he hesi-

tated, then there was a shrill whistle, and a groaning of the locomotive.

The letter

flew into the box, and the train blustered past the signal lights, over the points and the creaking bridges, into the night.

Bent

pressed his lips together. " I have made much trouble for you, my people," he said, "but I could not help it

io8

MELTING SNOWS

now. May be I shall be able to put it right again some day." He went back slowly to the town. He had done the most important part of his business, and now he had time to think of other things, so he began to turn over in his mind the conversation he had had with the Hofrath. He thought that it was very kind and large-mindecl of this gentleman to take so much interest in two people who had merely been introduced to him. But then it struck him that the anxiety he had expressed about Fräulein Galieri and her début was much too exaggerated. Envy and petty malice would never dare to stretch their dark arms over so sweet and gentle a being as Giacinta ; and even if they did, the darkest shadows would surely melt and disappear into nothingness before the sunlight of her eyes—nothing bad or mean could stand against that glory in her eyes. How could the Hofrath so much as imply

MELTING SNOWS the thing ?

Would

not

she

109 herself—she,

Glacinta—not know best about this ?

And

if this were indeed the case, would she sing so loud, sing so gladly, and so well ?

Oh,

Versen was right—the heavenly flame was burning in her too.

It would beat upon the

walls of heaven, it would gladden the whole earth.

S h e would sing.

S h e would conquer

through her art, and be a queen.

All would

cry aloud to her, would worship her, and pray to h e r !

H e knew it.

Suddenly he drew himself together.

He

remembered something which Giacinta had said to him, one sad little sentence : one has ever loved me."

"No

F o r a long time he

stood staring on the ground before him. "Worship

you—adore," he said.

"Ah,

I think I have something better for you, Giacinta.

If you went up to heaven

the glory of fortune, if you were and all

had

beside you.

forsaken

you,

in

penniless

I would

I would never leave you.

stay I

no

MELTING SNOWS

would hold you in my heart, and nobody should know of it.

I would weep when

you were weeping, and with you I would smile.

For you I would fight, and for your

sake would pray.

I think I would never

have done." H e stood by the house where she lived. It had grown pitch dark.

T h e water ran

down from the roofs and splashed on the snow, and the wind of March soughed softly over the gables of the town. " Sleep well," he murmured gently. " Sleep well, you naughty little girl, whom nobody has loved.

Good night."

Early the next day Bent went to the post-office to see if a registered letter had come for him.

H e went three times, and

each time he was turned back.

At last the

clerks, wearied by his importunity, advised him just to go home and possess his soul in patience.

They told him that the letters

MELTING SNOWS

were always given arrived.

out as

m

soon

S o Bent was forced to

as

they

submit,

but the hours of waiting seemed endless to him.

H e tried to finish a bit of work which

his

friend

but

he

the engineer

could

not

fix

had

given

his attention.

him, He

rushed to the head of the stairs whenever he heard the smallest sound, and then he came back to his room disappointed, and shuffled his

papers about.

He

done a single stroke of work.

had

not

As it grew

dark he crept out into the street, and went round the house which he dared not enter ; for he knew that he might not visit the Signora

with

empty

hands.

During

the

day he would stand motionless for hours together, and watch how the sunbeams played across the ceiling.

H e was sick of waiting.

His nerves were so strained, that he sat in a sort of half lethargy, unconscious of all his

surroundings.

postman

found

In

him.

this He

condition gave

him

the his

ii2

MELTING SNOWS

letter, and asked

for the

receipt.

Bent

took up the paper, but he let it drop again. H e seized the letter with the heavy brown seals, and the man had the greatest difficulty in persuading him to scribble his signature on the printed paper. the envelope and ran

Then Bent tore open his eyes

over

the

lines— " DEAR

SON,—Your letter has given us

great trouble and uneasiness.

I have had

to take all the savings of your little sisters, and even then I am unable to scrape together the sum which you require.

..."

T h e letter fluttered to the ground. read no further.

Bent

With trembling hands he

raked among the bank notes, and as

he

counted them out he planted his foot upon the thin shaky handwriting of his father's letter.

Again and again he counted over the

packet.

H e shook out each separate note with

MELTING SNOWS

increasing

excitement.

In

113

vain!

There

were, and there remained, exactly thalers.

What should he do ?

eighty

Where in

the whole world should he turn to get the missing sum ? He sat there motionless ; a look came over his

forehead which was peculiar to

when

he was

problem.

him

worrying out any difficult

His thin face grew darker and,

as it were, older, and his fingers played a strange and nervous dance upon the table. At last he rose ; he walked to the bookshelf and took down two or three volumes.

Very

reverently he laid them upon the table, and carefully he wiped the dust from off the pig-skin bindings.

Then half timorously he

opened the first volume. known valuable.

book, and

It was a well-

had become

rare and

Pastor Sorenson has got it for

a prize during his student days.

On the

title-page some dead professor had written the following inscription : " I n token of a H

ii4

MELTING SNOWS

virtuous and admirable life, combined with diligent application to the paths of knowledge ; " and in the little vignette above, with its

gaudy colours and

gilt

edgings,

was

written in firm characters : " Axel Sorenson, student of theology." greatest treasure.

This book was Bent's

It reminded him of one

of the few happy hours of his youth.

His

father had given it to him after his confirmation.

H e could see the whole thing plainly.

First his father gave him the

sacraments

with his own hands, and then he took him up to his study and gave him sermon.

a

After that he handed over

short the

thing he had always held in such reverence, this precious book.

His mother had cried

then with emotion ; his little sisters, in their Sunday

frocks,

looked

on

in

wondering

amazement at their big brother; downstairs the feast was being prepared, and, outside the parsonage, the thin rye swayed its green ears up and down in the sunshine.

MELTING SNOWS

115

Gently Bent drew his fingers over the ancient folios.

He took a pair of scissors,

and with a strange determination he cut away the title-page. " Y o u , at least," he said, "shall not go into the hands of strangers."

Then he put

on his hat, pushing it down upon his head, and

he lifted the

heavy

must come away to the

books.

"You

Jews," he said,

"there is now nothing else to be done." He

stormed

out of the house.

Frau

Bitterlich was peeling potatoes on the landing. of

When she saw Bent and his bundle books, she

nodded

her

head

in

ap-

see

you

proval. "I

am

glad," she

said,

going back again to college.

"to

Nothing good

can come of that eternal idleness." " W i l l you come along with m e ? " scoffed Bent.

" I will hand you over to the dis-

:secting-room.

Our master never says

tto a piece of new meat."

no

116

MELTING SNOWS

" Jesus Maria ! " screamed the woman, turning white as the wall; "how can you say such ghastly things ? father heard you

If your good and holy "

But Bent was out of earshot.

He strode

down the street with his head in the air. In old days passers

by,

he

never even noticed

but now

he

regarded

the them

with angry looks; sometimes he tossed his books defiantly from one arm to the other. When he got to the corner he was met by Mr. von Zierow. extremely

affected.

This little man was He

wore

light

kid

gloves, and carried a stick with an immense knob of ivory.

When

he saw Bent he

hopped over the road, daintily selecting the dryest part of the pavement for his little lacquered boots.

" G o o d day," he cried, in

a soft crowing voice. you, dear comrade;

" May I walk with where are you going

to?" " T o the Jews," cried Bent as loud as

MELTING SNOWS

117

he could, and he rapped on his books in a meaning manner. V o n Zierow looked round him in terror. " Hush,

hush,

my

good

fellow,"

he

said, and he laughed a small forced laugh. " T h e n we are in a

little dilemma,

I

pre-

sume, and w e want to g e t out of it by tiny byway, he ? stand, although same

a

H u m ! I can quite underI was

never myself in the

situation—Dieu

merci.

My

mama

always told me one thing—and it is a thing one never can

forget.

Hippolyt von Zierow. said,

' Noblesse

oblige,

Noblesse oblige,' she

' keep that constantly

in

your

head.

It was the chosen motto of your forefathers.' But what is the matter with you, Sorenson.

I see

nothing

particularly

ridiculous

in this." Bent laughed

nevertheless, for even he,

the hermit, knew quite well that the proud noble l a d y — Z i e r o w ' s von

Zierow,

was

mama—the

simply

a

Baroness

book-keeper's

n8

MELTING SNOWS

daughter,

who

merchant.

had

The

his estate and

married

merchant his title

a had

during

wholesale got the

both wars,

when he had made a good business with bills of delivery;

a large

cross of

merit

hung round his neck, but he did not adorn this

order;

and

his nearer

acquaintances

were wont to remark that a hempen would

become him

better, and was

tainly a more suitable former

contractor.

cord

decoration

Bent

knew

cer-

for the

all

these

things, and it was for this that he laughed so heartily in the little man's face.

How-

ever, when the offended gentleman turned to go Bent held him back. " H e r r von Zierow," he said,

" I

have

made you the master of a very novel and striking piece of news.

I f you choose

to

record it, and to proclaim to the world that Bent Sorenson—the mirror o f all virtues— has been seen by you on his way to the pawnshop, and if you like to add a little

MELTING SNOWS

119

something and suggest that the said Sorenson

Bent

had led a loose life lately, you

will sow the seeds of your story on fruitful ground, and in a short time—as usual, I meant to say—you will be the hero of the day.

But as I have no wish to be

the subject of a three days' scandal I must appeal to your tenderer feelings, for you are a von Zierow, and must surely have tenderer feelings

than

ordinary

mortals.

I

know

that with you my secret will be well kept, and

I

thank

you

beforehand

for

your

silence." Herr von Zierow was just skipping from one dry stone to another.

There was

a

look of comfortable stupidity on his face, which showed appeased. drooped

that

his

vanity had

But the corners of as

Bent

bade

him

been

his mouth beware

of

gossip. " D o not distress yourself, my dear friend," he lisped.

" My mama always said

"

120

MELTING SNOWS

" Noblesse oblige," Bent laughed, as he went off.

H e laughed aloud and with scorn,

for he knew that Zierow was a sort of daily paper in man's clothes, and that he would rather have died than keep silence about an interesting novelty.

" What does it matter

though ? " he thought, for his irony was still unripe and undeveloped ; " people may know, for aught I care.

I won't make myself out

to be better than I am." Thinking thus he went on his way.

When

he had gone some distance, and was no longer sure of his direction, he inquired of an excellent bourgeois his way to the pawnshop. The man was a typical Philistine, smug, comfortable, self-complacent.

He measured

Bent with a look of disapproval, and then, as though he discarded him, he pointed out the path and

fled.

He was probably accus-

tomed to be made sport of by the students. Bent followed the man's directions ; he went a little further up and then turned into a

MELTING SNOWS

narrow street.

The

houses

literally to sweat with dirt.

121

here seemed

Their windows

were mostly sealed up with paper, and rags of clothing hung suspended from long sticks, which projected from

ledges.

the window

Wretchedly-dressed children rolled and scrimmaged about in the small black holes which served for doorways ; their heads were covered with mats of the blackest hair.

A mysterious

building stood at the end of this row.

It

looked like an old warehouse, and bore a shield on which the words "lending house" were inscribed together with that very unsuitable title " M o n t de piété." twilight, the

damp, the

T h e early

dirt, the

moving

forms which came and went again,

some

creeping forward as though afraid, others making for the door as though it were their habitual haunt—everything about this building combined to produce a most repulsive impression.

Sometimes an old man huddled

in rags would stumble over the threshold.

t22

MELTING SNOWS

H is wavering walk and his manner of talking to himself betrayed the hopeless drunkard. Then again there was the pale, neglected woman, with a baby in her arms.

A man

would be waiting for her in some dark corner, and one could hear his muttered curses and the low wail of the woman as he took her money from her.

It was only

by a great effort that Bent could summon courage enough to mount the worn-out steps. When he got inside he found himself in a big ill-lighted hall; an oil-lamp hung over two glass windows where the crowd was pressing.

All manner of strange

crouched or stood by the walls.

figures

Some of

them had bits of bedding and bundles of rags in their arms.

A policeman walked up

and down the hall.

He seemed indifferent

to the sights around him.

Most of the con-

versation was carried on in an undertone, but in one corner some

horrible-looking

women had stretched out a linen cloth and

were

MELTING SNOWS

123

haggling over it and scolding

one

another.

Sometimes the general hum was

interrupted by louder sobs, which told that some unfortunate woman had had her worthless goods refused. An indescribable odour of poverty and oppression permeated the whole. Bent stood by a pillar with his books under his arm.

He was distracted, for how

would it ever be possible, he wondered, to make his way through this moving mass of people, and get a hearing at the window. It was evening, too, and he felt that he must see Giacinta before the night.

If once he

could get his money he would go to Giacinta ; he could not continue the unnatural strain which had alone upheld him during the past few days, any longer.

He pressed his pocket-

book to his lips; he let himself go, and trusted to the crowd to carry him forward. But he was only thrown back upon the wall again; he had no experience in struggles of this sort.

Driven to desperation, Bent at

124

MELTING SNOWS

last began to use force ; but abuse and rough words from the crowd were the only result. He was just about to turn away in despair and try his luck elsewhere when he became aware of a greasy little Jew, who was making all sorts of signs to him ; pulling him by the sleeve and beckoning him to follow. It was impossible to escape him. "Come and have a little talk with me—a little talk," he reiterated. "Directly I set eyes on you I said to myself: He is different to the common herd, he is above them. He despises the rabble. And I saw that you would never finish your business before the night, and that, may be, you had to have the money before the night and would not be able to get it. This is as true as that my name is Veit Itzig, and that I am an honourable man. And then I said to myself: Veit Itzig, although you yourself be a loser on the transaction, and make but a poor business, you must do

MELTING SNOWS

125

yourself this pleasure and go and ask the young gentleman

"

A ray of hope flashed into Bent's eyes. " Y o u certainly can do me a great service," he said hastily.

" I must have fifteen

thalers before to-night, and if you will take these books for that sum

"

H e had not time to finish his sentence. No sooner had the mention of " b o o k s " escaped

his lips, than

the

Jew

bounded

into the air as though he had been shot. H e lifted his hands with an expression of the deepest disappointment. " Books," he whined—" books, did you say ?

Oh, woe is m e !

Now indeed have

I pinned my faith upon the wrong man! Where will you go with your books ?

Un-

less, indeed,

Reb

you

turn

to the rich

Chaim Samuel—he is a great collector of books.

H e lives at No. 17 in the Stern-

strasse—on the third floor is his dwellingplace.

Woe—woe is me that I should have

126

MELTING SNOWS

wasted my precious time on so much useless talk!—on talk which has brought me no shadow of profit! " Suddenly the Jew's face lighted up.

His

eyes ran down Bent's figure, and rested on his watch-chain. " Just G o d ! " he cried, in quite a different tone of voice, " I saw at once that the Lord wished his poor Veit Itzig well. How

can

you ask to trade with books,

which are but miserable ware, when you have in your

pocket a watch — a watch

which is made of real metal?

Directly I

saw you, I said to myself: Veit Itzig, the Lord will give you what you deserve, because of your excellent heart, and because you tore the young man from amongst the rabble — the

rabble

gentleman, a noble

which a

fine

young

gentleman, could not

bear—and because you did all this, not to profit yourself, but to save him from his great dilemma

"

MELTING SNOWS

Bent

127

had not at once thought of

his

watch; it was a real piece of good luck this!

H e hastily pulled both watch and

chain out of his pocket, and thus he silenced the Jew.

Veit Itzig tore open the

case with his hard thin fingers ; he rubbed the chain and held it to the light.

A s he

did so, his face assumed an expression of ever-increasing displeasure. " I t is an old watch—a bad watch," he exclaimed ; " the silver is rubbed, and the chain is broken.

It is a poor piece of

work, and does not do honour to such a noble

gentleman.

But all the same old

Veit Itzig has a good heart, and because he is determined to help the gentleman in his great dilemma, he will give him four thalers.

But he will be a miserable loser,

and it will be said of him : ' Veit Itzig has again become a martyr to his own kind heart.

He is and will always be an un-

happy

and miserable little Jew.'

Here,

128

MELTING SNOWS

take your four thalers, take them at once, or God knows I may repent this offer of mine, and not be able to take your watch, and the gentleman will have to wait, and will not get his money to-night, and he will not get out of his great dilemma." The price was a shameless one.

The

old watch, which had descended from father to son through three generations of clergymen, was certainly of no great value ; but in spite of this, the charitable Veit Itzig, with all he said against it, would gain at least as much again on it.

Bent suspected this,

but fearing lest he should not get as much for his books as he had hoped, he let go the chain with a heavy heart, and saw it and the watch fall into the deep pockets of the Jew, who then drew out a leather bag and began to unroll a packet of indescribably dirty notes.

H e sighed heavily,

and handed four of the most ragged ones to Bent.

A s he did so he complained of

MELTING SNOWS

129

his bad bargain, and of the boundless goodness which had forced him into it. Suddenly Veit Itzig's benevolent countenance servile

changed to a look of fear.

He

terror

instinctively

his collar, and hid his head

drew

and up

between his

shoulders.

This transformation was soon

explained.

The policeman had been watch-

ing the pair for some minutes. approached them.

H e now

H e seemed to know the

Jew extremely well.

H e nodded, and then

said, " Good evening, Moses; I am glad to have caught you again.

I suppose you've

been going it hard, as usual." The

Jew

barrassment.

could

not

conceal

his

em-

He bowed very humbly to

the official, and mumbled something about the almighty gentleman, the inspector of the police.

Then he began to speak

of

his own generosity, which alone had driven him to do the distressed young gentleman a service, and to save him from ruin.

As

i3o

MELTING SNOWS

he spoke, he turned his eyes to heaven and looked so innocent, one would almost have sworn that Herr Veit Itzig (the policeman, by-the-bye, had called him Moses, and he ought to be a trustworthy authority) was the least self-seeking of men, and one who was utterly incapable of cheating his fellowmen out of so much as a farthing. "All

right,

my

worthy

Moses,"

the

official broke in; " but you know as well as I know myself that you are forbidden to carry on your dirty business here, where you are under the authority of the police. This is the second time you.

I

have

caught

If I catch you once again at this

sort of thing, you are done for.

Be good

enough to clear out of this place, otherwise I can easily show you how." Moses did not wait to be told

twice.

H e scuttled off, and was soon lost in the crowd.

The

policeman

watched

him

a

minute, then he turned to Bent and said—

MELTING SNOWS

131

" H e is sure to have cheated you nicely, the old swindler.

H e has been suspected

of false coinage and all sorts of underhand dealings for ten years

past.

You

could

have found some one better than him to apply to." Bent stood as though he were stunned. The heat, the smell, and the sight of so much breath

dirt

and

away.

to breathe

misery

He

fresh

almost

took

his

rushed outside merely air, and once again he

walked the crowded

streets.

felt heavy in his arms;

His

books

they cut into his

bones, and he remembered that somehow or other he must get rid of them if he wanted to make up his money.

Then he

stood still a minute and tried to collect his thoughts.

The

Jew

had

given him the

address of some antiquary.

Only a few

minutes ago this address had seemed his one hope, but owing to the scene with the policeman he had forgotten it.

H e thought

132

MELTING SNOWS

and thought.

His mathematics helped him.

H e remembered the number of the house, seventeen, and after that the whole address flashed back to his memory. he had not lost it—Reb

Thank God !

Chaim Samuel,

17 Sternstrasse. Reb

Chaim

Samuel

shifted his

shade so that the whole Bent. suerus.

light

lamp

fell upon

Reb Chaim had a head like AhaHis hair was silver white, and he

wore a little black cap of velvet.

In the

long folds of his gown his tall thin form looked venerable and stately.

T h e room

was dark ; only the heavy oak table shone in the light of the lamp, and on it there was a wonderfully

wrought

red wine.

books

of

golden

bowl.

Some clasps

lay

Mechanically, as

bowl full of

and

by it

the

a

handful drinking

seemed,

the

Jew took hold of the clasps and pushed them aside with his trembling hands.

As

they fell they made an accompaniment to

MELTING SNOWS

133

Bent's words and his urgent appeal to purchase his books. " Let me see them," said in a low voice.

Reb

Chaim

" So," and again he pushed

the clasps thoughtlessly aside and opened the first of the heavy volumes. soon buried in the preface.

H e was

After a time

he stood up, took down a copy-book, and slowly turned its pages.

" I have no use

for your books," he said at last.

" I find

that I have already got an older edition of the work." Bent felt as though He

stepped

he were

choking.

forward to the table.

He

spread the books out, one beside the other. He opened them, and then he shut them, and as he did so his hands trembled. *' Oh, take them ! " he said ; " Herr Samuel, take my books. with them.

I myself can scarcely part

I only ask eleven thalers for

them, and surely their worth is more than that!

If you will not buy them, then lend

i34

MELTING SNOWS

me the money on them.

I am used to

work.

I will not rest; I will pay you all

again.

It is so small a sacrifice for you,

you can make me so happy with so little." " I am no pawnbroker," said hoarsely.

"If

the

Jew

I buy a thing, I keep

it;

and as for making any one happy—doing them good—that

is a farce

children and fools.

invented

by

You prove that you

do not know me by saying such things to me—to me of all people on earth. Chaim Samuel only gives stones now. no longer gives gold.

Reb He

But enough of this.

Spare yourself further pains, I cannot and I will not buy your books." Bent stood a minute as though annihilated, then an indescribable bitterness

overcame

him. " My G o d ! "

he said, in a

dull

voice;

"this, then, is the love of one's neighbour, and these are the men whom Thou hast created ! "

MELTING SNOWS

135

Lightning shone in Samuel's eyes.

He

drew himself up to his fullest height. " Men ? " he cried wildly.

" Men ?

no man, I am only a J e w !

I am

T h e love of

one's neighbour means nothing to me.

I

ought to love you— you, ought I—you, who have never ceased to persecute my people all through the centuries; you, who

have

persecuted us, not openly, for you bow before our money-bags, but secretly, with all the weapons of hate and of scorn ? should love, should I ?

You I

You, who have

made my people into a degenerate race, so that they fade away in their palaces, and wither in their tents, crushed down by their dirt and their misery, as an unclean beast is crushed ?

T o you we should do

good, who have made of our great nation a lost people ? neighbour.

I know no love of

I only know of hate!

my

And I

swear this before the God of my fathers, who is a mighty God and a powerful God.

136

MELTING SNOWS

I hate you all with a deep and a bitter hatred. I hate you with the last breath which will shake this feeble body.

From my door

I will drive you in life, and in the hour of my death I will curse you.

A s true as my

God is a God of vengeance, and as true as I myself am a Jew,

I say this thing.

Go from my threshold, son of a Christian. I hate the whole of your people." Reb eyes

Chaim flamed.

had lifted his arm. He

was

grand

in

His his

extasy. A great calm fell upon Bent's soul, and all his peace returned to him at the sight of this mighty passion.

H e went to the

table and took his books. " Forgive me for having insisted so," he said ; " I see that I have no right to trouble you further. excuse.

My coming must be its own

I brought you the opportunity to

do a good deed.

Things like that

have

nothing to do with the difference of faiths.

MELTING SNOWS

137

Theybring their own blessing ; religion can only be strengthened by them." He bowed, and turned to go. stood there immovable.

His

The Jew eyes were

looking into emptiness. Then suddenly a soft voice full of interminable weariness arose in the darkness. "He

is in the right, my father," it said.

" D o as he asks you." Reb Chaim shuddered as though he had been stabbed.

Bent, too, turned.

met by a wonderful apparition.

H e was The door

of the next room, which was approached by a few steps, had opened gently.

A broad

stream of light poured into the room from a pair of silver three-branched candlesticks, and in the middle of this light stood a young girl.

Her skin was creamy pale;

her eyes were large, and strange.

She

wore a brilliant shot-silk gown, and round her head was wound a sort of turban.

Loose

skeins of marvellous black hair streamed

138

MELTING SNOWS

down upon her quite uncovered neck.

Her

hands were so thin, they were almost transparent.

With

one

she

steadied

herself

against the heavy curtain, with the other she held to her breast a dove.

The bird

was half dead with the girl's caresses.

Her

mouth was a burning red, and the expression was half perverse, half sad. Reb Chaim had sunk as it were together at the sight of the girl.

With outstretched

hands he staggered towards her. "Miriam, my child," he cried, " h a v e I awakened you from sleep ?

Have my im-

petuous words frightened you ?

Are you

more weary than usual, more ill ?

Speak

to me, my child ; your silence is torture to me!" " I have not slept, my father," said the girl, and her voice was strained and tired. " T h e child," and she pointed to the dove, " w a s restless, and I had to rock it up and down.

Then I heard you speaking.

Oh,

MELTING SNOWS

139

you were angry; and then the young man said something which was absolutely true, and very beautiful.

What was it he said ?

Oh yes, a good deed always brings its own blessing, and so I wanted to ask

you,

father dear, to do the thing he asked you. W e want the blessing so, if for nothing but the sake of the child." Two

big

man's cheeks.

tears

rolled

down

the

old

H e tried in vain to hide

them. "Certainly,

Miriam, my only

he said, in a stifled voice.

Miriam,"

"Anything which

you can wish I will do for you, and this," he said, turning to Bent, " I have particular pleasure in doing.

Please—" he continued

with a voice of entreaty, for he saw that Bent had turned to go, "please leave your books.

My child will worry herself if you

do not.

She will get excited.

Forgive me

the things I said about your people, and do not bear me malice.

Listen," he went

14o

MELTING SNOWS

on very, very gently, " it was a Christian who killed my child for me." Bent was terribly distressed, but he only nodded slightly, and let his books slip on to the table.

A s he did so he glanced at

the Jewish girl, who stood on motionless in the open doorway and waited to

see

the end of the business. Reb

Chaim

raised

his

" T h e s e books, sir," he said, more than eleven thalers.

voice

again.

" a r e worth

I have the right

to offer you exactly double that sum."

He

took from the drawer of the table a handful of silver.

" T a k e it," he said, smiling sadly,

for Bent hesitated—" take it with an easy conscience; every Jew would give you as much as that for them." Bent counted out eight thalers, and pushed the rest aside with his hand in a manner which showed he would brook no refusal. " I must thank you very warmly," he said. He

was very

much

moved.

Then

he

MELTING SNOWS

141

stepped a little nearer to the girl.

"And

you, my dear young lady," he said,

"may

the blessing of this good deed which you have done for me close in upon you, and may it bring you luck as pure and beautiful as you yourself are beautiful and pure." "Ah," child.

said the girl, " d o not wake my

But come here to me.

Listen.

Have

you a bride?—Oh, then love her well and never leave her.

Do you hear me ?—never

forsake your bride.

It is fearful—horrible ! "

She shuddered, and pressed upon her forehead. In

the

doorway

her

Bent left the room.

he

turned

once

Reb Chaim had buried his head hands,

his body

hand

was

shaken

with

more. in his sobs.

The girl had sat down upon the steps and was rocking the dove in her arm, and as she rocked she sang a Hebrew lullaby. They streets.

were lighting The

rain

hastened homewards.

the

had

lamps in the stopped.

Bent

H e had buried his

142

MELTING SNOWS

money in his breast-pocket, his heart was beating against it.

All he had lived through

during that interminable afternoon seemed far away to him now, and hidden in mists. The

thought

that

he

had

something for Giacinta other thoughts.

accomplished

washed away all

H e forgot the sad scenes,

and the miserable people, through whom he had passed.

One thought, and one alone,

possessed his soul, and that was the joy of seeing her again so soon.

" I expect she

is sitting at the piano," he said to himself, "and

her hands wander gently over the

keys, for it is evening, and her aunt will have fallen asleep. grow clearer.

By degrees the chords

And then there arises from

the mystery of her prelude that song which is full of the scent of violets, laden with the sunshine of youth.

I seem to hear it :

' O primavera gioventù di vita.'

Then she

will stop, and

upon her

drop her head

hand, and murmur softly to herself, ' W h y

MELTING SNOWS

143

has he kept away from me so many and so many days ? " ' A s Bent thought, the blood rushed to his head, and he tried to hasten his steps, for before he could look at Giacinta he must wash the hands which Moses the Jew had touched.

He

rubbed

and

scrubbed

his

fingers; he bathed his aching forehead in cold water ; then he took a deep breath, and ran up the stairs to Madame Galieri. He was very much surprised to find the front door open, and furniture and household belongings piled together in an untidy heap.

Some women were cleaning up the

mess with pails of water and brooms, and talking at the tops of their voices.

The

porter's wife acted as spokesman to the band, and informed Bent that the lady had moved down to the first floors some days ago, but that the young lady had kept to her room in the garret. " Y o u see," she added, " i t wasn't good

I44

MELTING SNOWS

enough up here for the lady.

The Hofrath

had always told her so." Some of the women began to giggle as she said this.

Bent was utterly mystified.

Thoughtfully he retraced his steps, and rang the bell on the first landing. opened it at once.

The servant

She pushed open a

swing door for him, and ran back into her kitchen.

Bent

looked into the drawing-

room in the utmost astonishment.

It was

a magnificent room, full of silk furniture and plants and statues.

Clusters of rose-coloured

candles burnt in the crystal chandeliers, and through the heavy curtains the last rays of daylight were creeping stealthily.

Giacinta

was sitting there at a table covered with books and music.

When

she saw Bent

she stretched out her arm. " Stay where you are," she said, in a quiet, passionless voice. threshold. in here."

" Do not move from the

No honourable man should come

MELTING SNOWS

145

Bent stood still, but he kept his eyes fixed on Giacinta.

H e seemed half para-

lysed. " Y o u do not understand me," she said, and her lips trembled. it.

" I can well believe

Look at all these

things," and she

pointed with feverish haste to her magnificent surroundings. us.

" Nothing belongs to

Some one else paid for it all, and every-

thing which we have lived upon for weeks belonged

to the

same

man—everything.

They were going to buy me—buy me by little bits, and I never knew it till now.

I

got my change in a delicate fashion, little by little.

They hoped I should not see

what they were doing. been opened.

But my eyes have

I will give it all back.

I

will pay them their money, and the interest on their interest. cided to-night.

Everything will be de-

How could I bear the shame

of it all, unless I knew that I could put it right again ?

My rehearsal will take place K

146

MELTING SNOWS

in another hour.

I am not afraid—only—in

my chest—I have a pain.

But I must sing

—sing better than I have ever sung before. Oh, B e n t ! " she cried, with sudden passion, " i t may yet come right again! think

so—you,

the

only

Don't you

friend

I

have.

Will you trust me blindly ? will you forgive me if, in my ignorance, I have sinned so terribly ? " U p to that minute Bent had stood as he was bidden on the threshold of the door. H e looked like a man who is intoxicated. But now he could bear it no longer.

He

rushed to Giacinta, and covered her hand with passionate kisses.

The hand was burn-

ing, the blue veins pulsed and

throbbed

within it. " Leave me now," she said very gently. " I will never see you again in this place. Pray to God that He may be with me during the hours that are coming, or else " —she bowed her head and said so softly

MELTING SNOWS

147

that he could not hear h e r — " o r else we two shall never meet again, Bent." Then she slowly walked away down the length of the big room. she had left him.

He

Bent stood where swayed up and

down as though he were giddy.

Thoughts

rushed into his head, but he could not control them.

Once or twice when Giacinta

was speaking he had noticed a sound like a whine or a sob, and now he discovered Signora Galieri lying all in a heap on the sofa.

Her head was covered with shawls.

A dim sort of notion came into his mind that he might even yet avert some terrible catastrophe with the help of his money; and

pretending

that

he

wanted

to

ask

after her health, he approached the Signora, and noiselessly pushed his

treasure

under her blanket. The Signora started up as though an adder had stung her.

" Vil seddutore," she

hissed, and hurled the packet at his head ; but

148

MELTING SNOWS

she missed her mark ; it hit the wall, and the dirty notes flew out in all directions, whilst the silver rolled noiselessly over the heavy carpet. Giacinta

turned.

A

look of ineffable

scorn passed over her face, then her head fell forward upon her breast.

" Bent," she

said simply, " p r a y for me." He went to his room.

He sat down by

his table and buried his head in his hands. The whole situation was clear to him at last, and

he realised its smallest details.

But he felt as though he had been struck by lightning; not

he was

dazzled,

collect his thoughts.

hot and h e a v y ;

His head was

a sort of lethargy came

over him, but his brain was on room

was

glimmer

dark.

shone

he could

Sometimes a over

the walls,

fire.

His

hurrying and the

quick roll of a carriage passed by in the street below; then there was silence, and he only heard the wind of March as it sobbed across the chimneys and the gables.

MELTING SNOWS

" I

am

falling asleep,"

149

Bent

thought.

" M a y be I shall go on sleeping, and forget —the—heartache—and the pain—and never wake again

..."

He lost consciousness. Then a rushing sound came into his ears, like the rushing of many waters.

A mist

rose up before his eyes, and out of the mist a vision of purest light appeared, and he saw a young girl standing in the light. A crown of violets was in her waving hair, and her eyes were looking Very sadly, very gently I

am

alone."

into

heaven.

she said,

Alone—at

the

"Now

words

he

started up, he stood upon his feet—one thing, one only was clear to him: cinta was alone.

Gia-

" She has no one in the

whole world but you," he said, " a n d to you she must belong—she must be yours unto all eternity.

Otherwise you would

surely die." Then the scene changed.

It seemed to

ISO

MELTING SNOWS

Bent

as though Giacinta had

died.

He

heard the jangling of the bells, he saw the jasmine

nodding on her grave;

and

then again the jangling of the bells, and with them the last words which she had spoken:

" Pray for me."

H e drew him-

self together, he fell upon his knees in the middle of the room, but he could not pray. He

could

only

murmur

my God — have

mercy

" Giacinta — O upon

us."

And

always the bells rang on, and over them a thousand voices roared, like the sound of a " De Profundis." Suddenly

he

awoke.

The

wind

rushing against the window panes.

was

Eleven

o'clock struck from the tower of St. John, and all the bells of the town repeated it madly.

An indescribable fear came over

Bent.

Giacinta's fate, his own fate, must

long ago have been decided. the window, and

looked

H e opened

down

into

the

MELTING SNOWS

deserted streets.

151

Then he came back into

his room. " T h e r e must be an end to this," he said, " for now it is all finished." H e took the key of the attic from his desk.

H e had kept it carefully since he

last saw Giacinta.

Then he ran up the

stairs. The shutters were clapping together in the attic.

A pale moon struggled through

the rotten beams of the roof, and by its uncertain light he saw that the door was closed.

For a minute he stood quite still,

then with a mighty effort he tore it off its hinges.

It went whirling through the air,

and fell with

a

below.

laughed

Bent

crash

to

the

aloud

courtyard as

it

fell;

some wild geese flying over the roofs of the town rose into the air with shrill and wailing

cries; a

light

appeared

on

the

basement. " T h e door has fallen in," said a voice

152

MELTING SNOWS

in the darkness, and then came a silence deeper than before, only the wind went in through the hole and wailed

round

the

creaking rafters. " Wind

of

the spring,

spring," Bent cried, and

storm

of

the

he sprang with

a bound to the terrace below. T h e flowers which Giacinta had tended were bending and breaking; the streamers of ivy got loose and floated away in the wind, like the long black hair of women. They made, as it were, a wreath

round

the little low

some

door which

led

by

steps to another door in the bend of the wall.

Bent put his hand on the latch and

went a step forward.

He

found himself

in a large room, lighted by a single lamp, which swung

from the

lamp of a ship.

ceiling

like

the

In the farthest corner he

saw a cloud of white muslin, which covered, and almost hid, the bed.

One corner was

held back just enough to show a picture

MELTING SNOWS

153

of the Madonna with myrtle twigs around it.

Some

bunches of

on the table, and

March violets lay

filled

the whole room

with their intoxicating fragrance.

A white

lace veil was carelessly thrown beside them. An

ivory cross hung at the foot

bed, and

before

ing

her

with

it

head

of

the

Giacinta

was

on

outstretched

her

kneel-

arms. She did not look up at the slight noise made

by

the

door,

though a very her

figure.

only

faint

Bent

it

shiver

stood

breathing heavily, and

seemed ran

still.

as

through He

was

he held his hand

tightly pressed against his heart. A t last she arose from her knees. was in full costume.

She

Stiff dead-white satin

fell round her in heavy folds, and a single water-lily

shone

in

her

hair.

She

had

been crying; tears glistened in her eyes, but through

them

there

broke a ray of

sunlight, of innocence, and deep-felt joy.

154

MELTING SNOWS

" B e n t , " she said, " w e are saved—you and I." He came towards her.

H e fell at her

feet; his head was buried in the folds of her

dress;

his breast was

heaving

with

sobs and with passion. " Giacinta, I love you," he said.

The

words had broken from his heart, and they seemed like the voices of spring, and the little streams in March. H e was saved.

Before she had kissed

him he felt her tears upon his forehead. H e sprang up and he clasped her tightly in his arms, then he drew her to the window and tore the sashes open.

The wind

blew in upon them; it waved

its

warm

wings around them, then it flew away singing its songs of resurrection over the roofs and the gables of the town.

Bent

had

pressed her curly head against his breast. Into the storm of that

spring

night he

shouted a prayer from the deepest depths of

MELTING SNOWS

Ihis soul.

155

They were wild, half-childish words

which he said, joyous and free and young. Dark-torn shreds from the mountains of cloud rushed through the sky and covered the moon. roofs.

The water dripped from the

Her lips touched his lips ; her eyes,

which were like the eyes of flowers, looked straight into his eyes. Suddenly she escaped his arms. " W h a t is it, Giacinta?

What ails you,

my joy, my soul, my wife ? " She did not was

heaving,

answer him. and

she

Her breast

breathed

heavily.

She pressed her hands against her eyes. " B e n t , " she said at last, " w e are too happy—you and I.

Will not God punish

us for it ? " " God ! " wildly.

Bent

shrieked,

springing

" Y o u are my God, Giacinta; and

your love is my one possession. for you? is you,

up

Ask Him

He is nothing to me, unless H e and

your

love !

It — it is

the

156

M E L T I N G SNOWS

beginning and the end.

Y o u r love—your

love alone was my salvation ! " Bent went to the table and took up a Bible.

H e opened its pages with his trem-

bling hands.

One single place he opened,

and these were the words which he read there: " My God, my soul is vexed within me:

therefore will I remember T h e e . . .

One deep calleth another because of noise

of the water-pipes:

all T h y

the

waves

and storms are gone over me." H e let the book fall, and he rushed towards Giacinta. his arms.

H e seized her wildly in

A shudder passed through her,

then she broke into sobs upon his heart. And over those two the melting snows passed by. When Bent woke up the next he felt like a different creature.

morning His head

was cool and clear, his whole soul flooded with an intoxicating

sense of joy.

sun was shining for the

first

time

The after

MELTING SNOWS

157

many days, and the sunbeams laughed as they danced through the little grey room ; they gilded the shelves, they made patches of

light on

corners

the

of

ceiling, they tipped the

Bent's

old

books, and

filled

his dreary little room with light and with golden splendours.

He got up in haste,

and put his books together.

His eyes were

laughing; sometimes he stopped and smiled, for he was very happy. ful spring day.

It was a wonder-

T h e air was full of the

murmuring of waters, of sunshine and fresh breezes; the snow was melting on the roofs, it trickled upon the

down in little shining

brilliant

pavement.

drops

Bent went

slowly along by the esplanade on his way to college.

H e was like a man in a dream.

The vision of beauty which had arisen in his soul seemed to overwhelm him.

It had come

so suddenly, this mighty love of his!

What

might the year bring forth—the year which was

coming,

with

all

its

work

and

its

158

MELTING SNOWS

labour?

But Giacinta and he were young,

and they loved each other so well.

Sorrow

and doubt had ended; his life lay before him clear as the day.

His examination ?

H e laughed only to think of it, and he drew himself together as though he were ready to lift up the heaviest load, and his thoughts wandered on till they rested in the quiet little parsonage

up in the

North.

He

thought of his sweet-souled mother, with her hair turned white thought of

so

early; and

he

his father, who would surely

smile in spite

of

when he should

his

stern hard

nature,

see his son come back

to the quiet study, with his young wife clinging to his arm, and blushing red with pleasure. right.

And

then

it would all

come

The whole family would be looked

after, cared for, and safe, for he would be able to work both for them and for Giacinta. for j o y !

How his little sisters would scream What wild excitement there would

MELTING SNOWS

be in the tiny garden!

159

They would all

go laughing and joking over the hedges and over the fields, and with them would go Giacinta — another young creature like themselves, another mother for them, with laughing eyes all full of the joy of living. And here she actually was!

Giacinta was

coming towards him, walking lightly along a path which joined his own.

She wore a

little dark gown, which the spring wind caught and kissed.

She was pale ; it seemed

as though she had been crying.

She came

straight up to Bent, and then smiled faintly. " I am so glad to see that you are going early to your work," she said. with me.

" But come

You have another half-hour to

spare, and there are some things I want to tell you. Give me your arm, and now listen." They went on into one of the side paths. T h e place was almost deserted.

Sometimes

they met a postman or a baker's boy, who no doubt felt a little surprised to see a

160

MELTING SNOWS

student with a lovely young lady on one arm, and under the other a huge pile of books. Bent silence.

walked

by

Giacinta

in

absolute

H e could not see enough of her

it seemed.

Her expression had changed.

There was something of peculiar sweetness in the tender care she showed whilst making out a plan for the coming year. to keep their engagement time being, she said;

She wanted

secret

for

the

and she hoped to

board with the family of the manager at her theatre, who was a good man.

Bent

was only to come and see her occasionally: on no account was he to come every day. " It would keep you from your work," she said, and then she was going to learn things, learn and learn—work divided is only half work — " and

it

will

be

so much

more

beautiful if we agree, not simply to snatch at our joy in a sort of blind way, but to work for it, to really deserve it

"

MELTING SNOWS

161

At that minute Bent felt that his happiness was quite complete; he scarcely listened to what she said.

" After all," he thought,

" it was not particularly important; she has only come out with her perfect tact to meet me in the clear, fresh morning air." " Y o u must go, Bent," she said suddenly, drawing her hand fromh is arm.

" There is

one path, one only, which can lead us to our end—I mean the path of work.

Start

out upon it now, and take with you the first blessing, and the first kiss of your wife." Calmly and without blushing she gave him her lips to kiss, and then she went upon her way.

Bent watched her till she

was out of sight, and still he seemed to hear her sweet voice in his ear; but it was only a bird of spring, which had perched upon a bough above his head, and

was

singing so loud, it seemed its little heart would break in two.

Further on Giacinta's L

162

MELTING SNOWS

gown had brushed the snow aside, and here some green leaves peered out shyly. raked

among

Bent

them, and found two tiny

violet buds still tightly rolled together.

He

picked them and put them in his books, then hurried on to college.

A sense of

deep security, a power and desire for unlimited work, came over him.

He longed

for opposition, for problems and difficulties of every sort.

He felt confidence in himself

—the strength of gods was in him. The lecture had just begun.

Bent bowed

as he entered the room and made for his old seat just under the lecturer's desk, but he found it had been taken by some one else.

Twenty heads or more turned round

to stare at him.

It is a strange thing cer-

tainly, but it is true, that one can, with one hasty glance, realise the exact expression on a crowd of faces, and sum up pretty precisely not only what that expression is, but also the facts which went before to

MELTING SNOWS

produce it. sity,

Bent detected not only curio-

but added

to

this

mischievous joy on all former comrades,

and

himself

something of

of his

in some confusion back

bench,

and

in the lecture, which was

again continued. he

a

the faces

he took his seat on a buried

163

T o add to his discomfort

found that he had great difficulty in

following all the headings and conclusions of the professor's lecture ; there were gaps in his copy-books, he had almost lost his way in his old notes.

It seemed to him as

though his mental qualities and his power of understanding facts had all grown rusty. H e was glad when the lecture was finished. T h e students banged their books together with a prodigious amount of noise. fessor stopped

as

he

T h e pro-

came to Bent

and

said— "May

I have a word with you,

Herr

Sörenson ? " He

was an

old man.

Bent gave him

164

MELTING SNOWS

his hat and his coat, and

followed him

in silence out through the endless whitewashed

passages.

There

were

students

here as well as in the lecture-room : they were hanging about in groups, and passing their spare time in conversation or gossip. Bent recognised several friends among them and bowed, but it seemed to him as though they all had the same strange sort of expression on their faces as he had noticed when first he came into the lecture-room ; and as he passed them, he heard a murmur of sarcastic remarks and of suppressed laughter. When they reached the audience-room, the professor put down his books and turned to Bent.

H e seemed to have grown stiff

all of a sudden ; his face had a set—a severe sort of expression about it. "To nothing

begin to say

with," about

he

said,

business.

"I

have As

a

general rule, I don't speak to my young men, and I only speak to those who have

MELTING SNOWS

165

shown me that they are in any way worthy of my regard.

No one can deny that you

have great capacities; but certainly those were given to you—you didn't make them ; what

I

noticed

was

that

you

worked

hard, and that you were anxious to become a support to your parents.

You were out

and away the best of my pupils, and for that very reason

your

companions called

you the mirror of all virtues.

That's always

dangerous ; the higher you stand, the further you have to fall.

Y o u have suddenly seen

fit to give up your work in college; you have, as you yourself freely acknowledge, taken your household gods to the pawnshop and sold them to the Jews.

It is needless

to say that this sort of thing will call down particular attention when a person like yourself takes to it.

I will say nothing about

your third offence, which was of course the origin of all the others. about it, because

I

am

I cannot speak ignorant of the

166

MELTING SNOWS

facts. Probably your companions understand that part of the business better than I can. Be good enough to listen to what I have still to say to you," he continued, when Bent was about to put in a word. " So many young lives have passed through my hands, that I know pretty accurately by this time whether my advice when given will be thrown away or not. But my chief object in speaking to you—my only one, in fact—was to advise you to make an effort, and to force yourself back into your old way of living. Let us hope that all this will not go further than my ears, otherwise the doubtful pleasure of expelling you would probably fall to my share. At the present instant, it strikes me that you are much more fit for this than for your examination. Take what I have said to heart.

And now you may

i)

goHe turned away.

In vain Bent sought

MELTING SNOWS

167

for words ; this reprimand had been so unexpected, he was not prepared for it. " Thank you for the interest you have taken in me," he said at last.

" I , too, hope

that I may never again be the object of such a reproof as you have just seen fit to give me." Then he went out and stood in the bleak white hall of the college ; the students had gone back to their lecture-rooms.

H e was

glad to be alone ; he felt a sudden repugnance for all these young men ; it struck him that they were unripe, children still, and raw.

In a few days he seemed to

have grown a great many years older; he saw quite

clearly

that

he

no longer be-

longed to his former companions—he outgrown them all, as it were. were their thoughts!

had

How small

A s long as he had

shown that he was a better worker than themselves, they had called him the mirror of all virtues, and all the time they were

168

MELTING SNOWS

probably nurturing a secret grudge against him; but because his masters seemed to approve of him, they, too, had pretended to admire him.

But for once in his life he

had missed a few lectures—and further, he had pawned some of his belongings—and, thanks to the generous trouble taken by his noble acquaintance Von Zierow, these petty faults had assumed colossal proportions.

There was nothing so very bad in

what he had done.

Probably the whole lot

of them had done as much times out of number.

But the

fact remained

that a

crack had shown on their mirror of virtue. This was a magnificent opportunity indeed to show their triumph and their scorn ! They hastened to throw a few stones quickly, and prompted by motives of the purest friendship, at this their fallen comrade.

This

was his punishment for having gone his own way, for having refused to join their parties and their fun!

Bent could almost

MELTING SNOWS

have laughed.

169

H e determined to withdraw

more than ever from their society in the future, and to plan out a sort of solitary existence, in which he could pass his days unobserved

and

free

from

envy.

Then

something came back to his mind, and it made him jump. said ?

W h a t had the professor

W h a t had he meant when he im-

plied that there was a third point in Bent's story ? " Y o u r comrades," he had said, "will probably know all about that."

It was strange.

W a s there some further gossip, some scandal even, going on about him ? Bent felt incapable of attending any more lectures that day, so he determined to go straight home and do his work there.

As

he turned the corner, he heard a familiar voice, which made him stand still for an instant.

H e saw a group of medical students

standing in their smocks and leather aprons round the door of the laboratory.

Herr von

i7o

MELTING SNOWS

Zierow stood in their midst. The little man, tiré à quatre épingles as usual, was talking excitedly, and the others were so much engrossed in what he said, that none of them paid the slightest attention to Bent. " But now for the cream, my dears," squeaked the little gentleman. " W e all of us know that our dear fellow-student, the ex-mirror of virtue, has been led astray from the paths of knowledge. He used to tread them so excellently well, and was such an example for the rest of us—but he has been led astray in a very remarkable manner, and by some unknown Dulcinea. I have worked with a will, I have employed every method in my power to lift the veil of this mystery. The happy lady who has produced this masterpiece is " With a look of triumph he gazed around him. " Who ? " shrieked half-a-dozen voices in a breath.

MELTING SNOWS

171

" R e b Samuel's daughter—the mad Jewish girl in the Sternstrasse." H e was greeted with roars of laughter. His success was complete.

Herr von Zierow

literally beamed with delight. Suddenly Bent pushed past them. said nothing, he looked

He

at no one, not

even at Herr von Zierow, who was horribly frightened.

H e simply passed them by.

When Bent got home he set to work, and worked for several hours on end ; after that he went down to Frau Bitterlich, and asked for something to eat. in an ill-humour.

But she seemed to be

She told him that as Herr

Sorenson had been dining out during the last few evenings, she had prepared nothing for him to-day.

Bent waited till it was dark,

and then went out.

H e looked up at Madame

Galieri's windows, but he couldn't see any sort of light.

H e concluded that Giacinta

had already gone to live with the manager, and as he went on he said to himself: " Ah

172

MELTING SNOWS

y e s ! there were scenes and tears before she could gain her point.

Poor darling,

they

make her life even more difficult than they make mine." H e found a tempting baker's shop at the corner of the street, and the sight of the loaves make him realise how hungry he was. H e went in and bought two bits of bread and a little fruit, then he slunk into a side street and ate them as he went along.

This

street led straight to the opera-house, and suddenly the great him.

building arose

before

It rose up in a massive block against

the dark

background; feeble jets of gas

flickered in the wind on the steps ; they threw a sort of half-and-half light on the gigantic boards where the play-bills Bent's it

heart

was

there!

etta in zing;

beat;

then

Emperor

he went

"Undine,

four acts:

were

posted.

nearer—yes,

romantic

oper-

Fouqu6, Albert

Lort-

Berthalda,

H e n r y ; Hugo,

daughter

of

the

Knight of Ring-

MELTING SNOWS

173

Stetten ; Kühle born, a powerful prince of the river; Undine—and instead of there were were

three stars.

repeated

below,

her name

The three

stars

and then — Fräu-

lien Giacinta Galieri's first appearance in public."

How dead, how cold it looked;

how methodically the three stars were printed ; how black and stiff the letters of her name! Sadly Bent walked on.

It hurt him to see

Giacinta's name in print, and open to anybody who chose to look at it.

In vain he

told himself that this had to be, that it could not be helped, that he himself was a fool to care so much about it; but he could not escape from the bad impression the sight had made upon him. Thus thinking, he came to the chief bookshop.

There was a crowd of people round the

window, and cries of wonder and of admiration reached him. looked

mechanically

As he passed by, he over

his

shoulder.

Then he stopped still—dead still, as though

174

MELTING SNOWS

the hand of death had struck him.

H e saw

a lot of books, blue and red, bound with gilt edges and beautiful backs, and there were photographs of celebrated people, of the reigning prince, Schopenhauer,

Prince Frederic

Charles on horseback riding over the dead bodies of the French, and the crackling shells. But this wasnot all. In front of everything else, shining in the dazzling light of all the lamps, there was one marvellous cabinet photograph, and under it, in beautiful Gothic characters, the name of Giacinta Galieri.

T h e portrait

was a most extraordinary likeness ; but there was a something almost mysterious about it, an expression which it was impossible to define, a look which made one stop to think and wonder.

It was a strange mixture of

sorrow, of resignation, and of scorn ; it was a happy childish face, but there was a look in the eyes which gave one absolute pain. was inside the shop with a bound.

Bent An

elegant youth, with the sweetest of smiles

MELTING SNOWS

came forward to serve him.

175

This engaging

young man pranced away to the window, opened it, and, with a gracious movement, swept the picture from under the noses of the people outside, and began to wrap it up in a piece of silver paper. " Seventeen and a half groschen, if you please," he lisped. Bent shovelled out his money and paid the youth, then hastily seized his picture and went back into the street.

The crowd

round the window regarded him

angrily.

He did not notice them; he hugged purchase, and ran back home.

his

H e wanted

to be alone, alone with his picture.

His

head was raging, he felt half mad.

How

was it possible for such things to happen ? how could Giacinta allow it ? of it ? did she approve ? And

yet—this was

the

Did she know

No, it could not be. fashion;

it

was

one of the necessary evils, but it was bitter. What a good thing that he, of all people,

176

MELTING SNOWS

should have turned up just

at the right

minute, and put an end to the thing!

How

glad he was to be able to bring the picture back into his quiet little

room, to

have

saved it for ever from the curious gaze of the public. Poor boy !

Had he but gone back to the

same shop some five minutes later he would have seen a fresh portrait of Giacinta smiling down upon the street.

And had he lingered

a little longer still he would have seen Herr von Zierow tripping along with a party of friends behind him.

Bent would have seen the

little man stand by the window, look at Giacinta's picture, pronounce it " delicieuse," and buy it to put in the drawer where he already had a good little hoard of portraits which he termed "conquests," and which had been bought in precisely the same sort of fashion. Von. Zierow would open this drawer sometimes after a good dinner and show its contents to his friends.

MELTING SNOWS

177

The next morning Bent received the following letter:— " I have waited for a whole fortnight rn vain.

You have not sent me the work which

I had entrusted to you, and I must therefore beg you to return the said work to me whether it is finished or whether it is not.

I

must further ask you to consider our previous engagement as entirely broken.

It would

be superfluous for me to discuss here my reasons for this decision. " SIEMERS, Mechanical Engineer."

Bent was both pained and surprised by this letter.

He put the work, which certainly

was quite unfinished, together, and he started out on the long walk into the suburbs.

He

was anxious to speak to the engineer himself, and to ask him for a full explanation. He felt sure that there had been some misunderstanding.

It was impossible for a little

idle gossip to make such a deep impression M

178

MELTING SNOWS

on a man, who was no doubt peculiar, but at the same time extremely just and benevolent. Bent hoped that a few words would be enough to make matters clear again.

But

greatly

to his astonishment he was told that the engineer had gone out, and would not be back for several hours.

So he waited, but when

at the end of the time he returned he was met with exactly the same answer, he gave up his roll of papers with a heavy heart. A s he turned sadly away he thought he saw the wife's face at a window; she seemed to be watching him, but she drew back hastily. Then

the

engineer's little

him, and gave him his hand. come back from school.

boy

ran

after

H e had just

Bent drew his hand

lovingly over the small boy's pretty

flaxen

hair. " I am glad to see you, Paul," he said. " I t will be long before I come again.

Do

you know what has made your father so angry with me ? "

MELTING SNOWS

179

" N o , " answered the child; "but a little while ago he was talking to mother about you when we were at supper, and I think he said, ' It isn't simply the plans that I mind about, but there is something else besides.' And when mother began to take your side, he told Anna and me to go and play, and when we came back in about half-an-hour mother was sitting quite quiet, and I think she had been crying." Bent dropped the boy's hand and turned to go.

The child's words were absolutely

meaningless

to him, and he could

make

nothing of the whole concern, yet he felt depressed.

He went quite out of his way

and round by the esplanade, where cinta had come to

meet him

Gia-

yesterday.

It was almost dark; dirty heaps of brown snow loomed up out of the soppy ground. Here and there was a small lake of water. A high wind shook the naked trees in the plantations.

H e went on further up the

180

MELTING SNOWS

other side of the stream till the coming night forced him to turn homewards. lights were

burning

Scattered

in the suburbs, and

when he came into the broad streets they were brilliantly lighted.

Bent stood on the

bridge which joined the two towns.

Bright

jets of gas sent their reflections down into the river.

H e was very tired.

hurried past him.

T h e y seemed to be going

much quicker than usual. ing and screaming.

T h e people

T h e y were talk-

Fire-engines thundered

over the cobblestones with quick-sounding bells; and then two companies of soldiers passed by.

T h e officers wore high boots and

waterproof cloaks, and the men were marching out of step, and talking as they went. Instead of guns, they had spades and billhooks slung across their shoulders.

A crowd

of inquisitive people ran at their heels. " W h a t is the matter ? " asked innumerable voices. " T h e ice is coming down, and the dykes

MELTING SNOWS

have broken," was the answer.

181

" The bridge

has been torn away in Annenau ; the village is in danger; the crops and all the fields are deep under melting snows." " Melting snows ! "

The words pierced

deep into Bent's heart.

They

reminded

him of the last words Versen had spoken to him—words which he had scarcely understood, but which had staggered him.

On

that memorable night his soul was clouded over still, and the passionate powers were wrestling to get free.

But now the ice had

broken, and the burning kiss of the sun-god had come to him and touched him on the forehead, and now the melting snows were coming too.

They were rushing forward

and crushing as they went,

burying the

young green, the young joy—burying both him and her—revengeful, annihilating, following given laws. The wind had arisen and blew across the reflections in the water, breathing a hot

182

MELTING SNOWS

damp breath.

It brushed angrily over the

roofs of the town, and threatened to blow out the flames of gas, which turned and flickered This

like the souls of

flickering

the

damned.

light glinted over

Bent's

face as he stood there motionless, looking into the night.

His hair floated out in the

wind, and half wildly he looked towards the heavens. " I f we have sinned," he groaned,

"so

let me suffer for it—me, me only—but have mercy on her, Almighty God.

Crush me,

strangle me, but let her be — have mercy on her." The heavens were dark.

No single star

looked down upon him as he prayed.

Some

straggling lights shone up the stream, they seemed like crosses in the mist.

Below

him there was a rushing and a gurgling of the water, as it lashed under the arches of the bridge with a strange unearthly movement ; dark formless things came crashing

MELTING SNOWS

forwards, they

broke

to

183

splinters

or

re-

bounded as they touched the arches. U p amid the smoke of the town one light shone clear—it grew and spread. the

It was

light of the opera-house ; they

were

giving Lortzing's " Undine." T h e house was crowded with a glittering throng of people.

Sentinels were posted on

the steps which led to the royal boxes. There was bustle and noise in the passages and cloak-rooms, and inside that rustling of silk gowns, that splendour of white necks and brilliant jewels which accompany a great performance ; there was a glow of light and a humming

of

expectancy ;

sometimes

the

voice of a violin shuddered and shrieked above the general booming. of

the

The

interest

evening was a double one.

Not

only was " Undine " the favourite piece of the princes, and about to be put on the stage in a new form ; but further, a young débutante, a pupil of the

Conservatorium,

184

MELTING SNOWS

was going

to make her first appearance

in the part of " Undine," and the celebrated baritone Rossi had promised to take

the

part of " Kuhleborn." On the stage itself there was an unwonted amount

of

excitement

and

noise.

The

workmen had more than enough to do in putting up the elaborate scenery of the piece. Here and there a fireman with his glittering helmet appeared; half-dressed members of the chorus

called out for the hairdresser

or the dressmaker, and amongst this motley crowd some privileged outsiders walked up and down the forbidden paradise

of the

green-room.

among

The

Hofrath

was

them ; he was evidently much excited, and was talking to the manager. Away from the general crush, in a quiet corner

which

was

chief actors were

brilliantly lighted, the gathered

together, and

nearly all of them were fully dressed.

Peter

Heilmann had taken his seat upon a sofa.

MELTING SNOWS

185

H e was in full costume, but this did not at

all

prevent him from nursing a most

charming little peasant girl upon his knees. T h e tenor stood in front of a long glass. He

was

lost

in

admiration of

his

own

appearance; he was a nice, innocent youth, who had begun life as a waiter.

A small

cap with immense ostrich feathers adorned his yellow hair, and

a large sword in a

red velvet scabbard hung at his side.

He

sometimes contemplated his fat and rather bandied legs with a look of extreme affection.

Veit, the jovial shield bearer, stood

beside him, and cursed his stars, the clasp

of his cloak had given him a

hit in the nose. Frau

because

T h e Empress Berthalda,

Lydia M tiller, came rustling out of

her dressing-room in a green velvet huntingcoat. She was a beautiful, voluptuous woman; her blonde hair looked very well in its golden net;

but

her

laugh was unpleasant,

and

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MELTING SNOWS

if she laughed as she was laughing now, long and loud, her lessened.

beauty was decidedly

There was something overpower-

ing in her laughter.

It was neither happy

nor good to hear. " Just

think,

Rossi,"

she

said,

as

she

passed by the others without paying them the little

slightest

attention,

Galieri's

"I

dressing-room

go

into

to

look

that at

her dress, and I find the new Diva sitting amongst

her

pots

paint-box with

a

of pomatum

and

crucifix or a fetish,

her or

the Lord knows what, in her hand; there she sits staring into space, not even answering when she is spoken t o !

S h e looked

so silly, that I really couldn't contain myself.

I simply burst out laughing in her

face.

I am still quite heated, I laughed so.

Feel me." T h e man to whom she had been speaking

all this time was tall and thin;

was huddled

in

his

cloak, and

leant

he in

M E L T I N G SNOWS

187

absolute silence against the wall.

H e did

not move a single muscle when Frau Lydia stroked

his

face with her soft hand; he

simply bore with her caresses, as one bears with a cloud of smoke from one's neighbour's pipe. " I f you think your joke a good

one,"

he said, with a slight foreign accent, " t h e n laugh to your heart's content. plenty of time.

Y o u have

Your work does not begin

till the second act."

H e accentuated the

word " w o r k " in a way which it is impossible to describe. T h e singer seemed to be a trifle taken aback by his cold reception. " Nothing would

have

induced

me

to

appear in Fraulein Galieri's august presence except the fact that this is the evening of her debut, and I do not wish to lose that much of it."

She snapped her fingers lightly, and

pouted

a

peculiar

little

had studied beforehand.

pout, which

she

" Honestly, it is

188

MELTING SNOWS

not out of malice; but I would give a good deal to see the little creature, with her angelic face and her thin small voice, make a fiasco, if for nothing else than to show her the

uselessness

of all her

airs and her praying. sort

of nonsense.

superior

I can't abide that

Goodness

knows,

we

began in quite a different sort of style in our days.

When I made my first appear-

ance as page, I think — the Lord knows what piece it was in—we had just returned from a picnic in the country, and had had a royal time. thing.

I had forgotten the whole

When the curtain went up, I didn't

know a single bar of what I had got to sing, nor a word of my part; but it didn't matter,

it went

officers gave me

off splendidly, a thundering

and

the

applause.

After it was over we had a great supper somewhere, and got so uproarious, that I really couldn't remember how I got home. Anyway,

I

slept

for exactly twenty-four

M E L T I N G SNOWS

189

hours on end, and only woke up when my mother brought in the paper with a splendid criticism of my acting

in it.

was the right sort of debut. it was meant to go.

Now

that

It went as

Don't you agree with

me, Rossi ?" "It

was certainly characteristic of you,

Signora Müller," he answered. to work with a abashed.

" Y o u went

will, and were quite un-

Brava, that is what made

you

such a capital singer." She looked at him with half-closed eyes. " Singer ?

Only a singer, did you say ?

That's a poor compliment, Rossi.

I know

that your judgments are always severe, but all the same, I had hoped for something kinder than that from you.

I find the thing

written at least ten times over in every review of my singing, but I should like to have heard it, if only for once, from your lips. Perhaps I oughtn't to care what you think of me," she added so low he could scarcely

I90

MELTING SNOWS

catch the words, " but I do care.

You have

no idea, Rossi, how much I care for your good opinion." " I can only hope that you did not expect me to say you were an excellent Signora," the singer answered.

artist,

" You would

have been mistaken indeed had this been your thought," and for the first time a slight emotion passed over his face.

" I am of the

old school of thinking; my point of view differs essentially from your own.

There is

some peculiar quality about the art of acting. One cannot put it on as one would put on a silk dress. One cannot get into it ten minutes before the curtain goes up, and shuffle out of it as soon as the piece is over.

I have

chosen this comparison of the dress because I am anxious to bring home to your mind exactly what I mean, and I think that this is my best way of making the matter quite clear to you.

Art is like the tunic which they

gave to the king.

It is a beautiful shining

MELTING SNOWS

191

raiment; but when it is worn it burns to the death, and nothing can save its wearer. And this is the reason why those who accept it can never again be happy or free in their spirits as they

were before.

They must

wrestle long and mightily within themselves before they submit.

They must renounce

their own personality; may be the world will admire them, but they will be none the less lonely, as little lost children are lonely. They have all wept bitterly, before they submitted themselves to be stared at, and to die an early death.

The only thing which

will sustain them is the marvellous inspiration of their art; it will bear them away on the wings of the storm.

It will carry them

over their doubts, and over their pains, over their despair and their hours of weakness. And all true artists consider their art as holy.

They

earnest.

are mostly sad or deeply in

They mix but little with the life

around them ; envy, malice, and all uncharit-

192

MELTING SNOWS

ableness are to them things unknown.

If

you could understand these things, Signora, they would be to your great advantage." Frau Lydia's mouth twitched painfully, but all the same she put her head on one side, half shyly, half coyly, like a child who has been scolded. " Y o u are angry with me, Rossi," she said gently, "because you know that I cannot bear this little Galieri.

But I cannot force

myself to like h e r ; I cannot make myself out to be a different person to what I am. Do you imagine," she continued, more passionately, " t h a t

I

have

not noticed the

interest you have taken in the girl, or what pains you took to help her through her rehearsals?

Is it the usual thing for the cele-

brated Rossi to demean himself by giving such a stupid little creature

all sorts

of

advice, and teaching her the very slightest tips?

It went to my heart when I heard

you telling every one how delighted you

MELTING SNOWS

193

were to have found for once a partner to act with—a girl who was not a mere musical puppet, but some one who sang with a soul —and your eyes flashed, you looked quite young—you, the blase.

Yes, that girl has

simply bewitched you ; but I, I hate her, with her coquettish little milk and water face ; and I would willingly give one of my fingers to see her hissed off the stage to-night, and cast back into the nonentity whence she came.

Don't look so furious, I am simply

speaking the truth.

I detest this girl, and

hate her with a bitter hatred—not merely because she has wounded my vanity as an actress, but simply and purely because you, Rossi — you have such an

extraordinary

respect for her." Again he vouchsafed no sign of emotion, only he lifted his hand as a sort of tired acknowledgment of his thanks.

But he did

it with such absolute indifference, that the singer felt a flood of anger rush into her N

i94

MELTING SNOWS

heart. She took the revenge which all coarse natures take. She played a trump which she knew would wound intensely, and which she had no right to play. " Don't act this farce," she cried scornfully. " You know that you yourself wish more than any one else that the little creature should come to grief; for if she does, you will have every opportunity of going to her and offering her your help in private." An unkind thought came into Rossi's mind, and do what he would, he could not refrain from expressing it. " F o l l y ! " he said, "mere folly. No, the grapes are too high for me. I cannot touch them. I am too old; I can only succeed with women of the second or third order nowa-days—women like you, Signora Muller." H e turned to go, and paid no attention to Frau Lydia. She turned yellow, and was preparing to faint. Luckily a third

MELTING SNOWS

195

person stepped in and put an end to this intolerable situation. " May I ask the reason of your excitement?" Peter Heilmann said kindly.

He

had done with his tête-à-tête, and emerged from the screen. "We

were

talking

about

débutantes"

said the singer, mastering herself with a mighty effort.

" H err Rossi seems to be

particularly interested in this subject." Several other persons joined the group, and quite

the

conversation

grew

excited, for the

them all very nearly.

general

subject

and

concerned

Each one thought of

his own first appearance, and tried to tell of its comic sides as brilliantly as they could. But Rossi alone kept silence, and no smile arose to soften his hardened features, or break

the weary indifference of his ex-

pression. Again Frau M tiller addressed him. " Good God ! " she cried suddenly, in her

i96

MELTING SNOWS

harsh

ringing

voice,

"here we stand,

a

wretched company of singers, and chatter about our most uninteresting and obscure débuts.

W e have quite forgotten to ask

our great

colleague

what

his was like !

And after all, he is the only one among us who has attained to the heights we all aspired to climb.

H e is an artist—a world-

famed artist "—she lingered on the words with peculiar emphasis—"and therefore it is important to all of us to know in what place and in what manner he first stepped upon the boards. about it ?

Surely you will tell us

Do please join me in asking

him, gentlemen," she added, looking round the

circle, and stamping half impatiently

with her foot. T h e singer declined with a little laugh, but they all pressed him so furiously, that he was forced to submit. " M y début," he said at last, "was very different to the ones you have been de-

MELTING SNOWS

197

scribing.

It left no very pleasant impression

upon me.

I was very young, indeed, in those

days, and I took my Art very much in earnest.

I had wedded myself to her with

my life, and with my heart's blood.

Much

depended on my first appearance.

First

of all, the welfare of my old mother, whom I

had to

support, and then," he laid a

peculiar stress upon the words, "the only love of my life.

A s you may imagine, I

went out for no picnic that day, nor had I any inclination to study my part badly.

I

made my first appearance in Bologna, and I sang the part of ' Figaro' in the ' Barbiero di Sevilla.'" "One manager, "Of

of

your great parts," cried the

who came in at that moment.

course

you

had

an

unparalleled

success ? " " N o , " the singer simply answered; was hissed off the stage." There was a general pause.

"I

198

MELTING SNOWS

" A n d the young girl," Frau Lydia asked in a lowered voice, " y o u r first love, what has become of her ? " " T h a n k you," said Rossi, " s h e is very well. real

A fortnight later she ran off with a barber.

But

my

poor

mother,"

he

added gently, as though he were speaking to himself, " s h e remained true to me, she loved me, she believed in me to the end of her days." His face had softened, his voice grew low and tender. fallen over arrived,

the

and

A

sudden

theatre.

then

the

silence

had

The

court had

first

chords

of

the orchestra broke out clear and distinct. Giacinta came out of her dressing-room; she was deadly pale, but quite composed. she passed by

As

Rossi she lifted her eyes

and bent her head a little, then she went out straight across the stage, and took her place. T w o hours later it was all over.

Giacinta

MELTING SNOWS

199

had sung through the first act and a great part of the second with a thunder of wild applause

from

the

audience,

who

could

hardly contain themselves, and which spite

of

Rossi's wonderful

singing

almost entirely devoted to Giacinta.

in was She

finished the great air in " E dur " with such a pure passion, that a perfect storm arose; such a strong, clear, strangely ringing tone had never been heard before in the place. But a strange look of pain came into Rossi's eyes, as he stood by one of the screens and watched her every movement.

H is own part

called him on to the stage at that minute, and in the duet, scarcely ten minutes later, Giacinta fell into his arms.

There was a

little blood on her lips, and she was quite unconscious. pected ending.

It was a sudden and unexT h e orchestra stopped, and

between the raging of the house and the empty stage the curtain crept down stealthily. There was a slight stir in one of the top-

200

MELTING SNOWS

most galleries, and a young man, with a look of terror on his face, broke through the crush of spectators.

Officers came and

went from the royal box.

After a time the

grooms appeared, then the curtain lifted, and the manager informed the house in dead stillness that owing to the sudden, but he hoped not dangerous, indisposition of Fraulein Galieri the opera could not be completed.

After a short pause the ballet, which

had been announced for the following evening, would be put on the stage.

This was

a novelty, and the public was soon calmed down. Outside in the street stood Bent. leaning against a lamp-post.

He was

It had been im-

possible for him to see Giacinta, because they had taken her straight home.

He had induced

the doctor to listen to him a minute, and had extracted the news that her condition was not exactly dangerous; that she had probably broken some small blood-vessel, a thing which

M E L T I N G SNOWS

often happened to singers.

201

T h e doctor then

made a rather coarse joke about the interest Bent took in Fraulein Galieri, and went his way. One of the workmen asked him whether he had any particular business behind the scenes, and when Bent said " No," he told him to go.

And so he was standing in the street

half stupefied, half deadened.

Some

boys

thought he was drunk, and began to jeer at him; but absolute

they were frightened by his

stillness,

and

soon

slunk

away.

T h e rain pattered softly down and soaked through his thin old coat.

H e didn't notice

i t ; he went on gazing fixedly at the black pools of water which

formed

feet.

it all, and what

Now he

meant.

knew

" T h i s is the

fault," he said.

around

vengeance

on

his it our

" Upon your path and mine,

Giacinta, no star may shine nor any luck arise. O

my

If there must needs be atonement, God!"

he

suddenly

cried

aloud,

"then do not spare us, but give us the

202

MELTING SNOWS

courage to bear with it in silence.

Do not

forsake us, O my God, and we will never forsake one another." H e drew himself up and turned towards home. wet

Then he realised how the rain had

him

to the

skin.

A

shudder

ran

through him ; he was icy cold, and his limbs felt heavy and beaten. " Supposing I were to get ill," he thought, " g e t ill just at this point, there would be nobody left to watch over her. and it shall not be.

It must not,

I need my health and

all my strength more than ever I needed it before." Just opposite where he stood there was a big coffee-house brilliantly lighted.

He

went in, and asked for a cup of hot tea and a little rum. T w o tables had been put together next to his own, and a party of officers were sitting there; they belonged to the royal cavalry, and were talking excitedly.

The

MELTING SNOWS

203

warmth and the glow of the place did Bent good.

A feeling of faintness came over him,

but it was not at all unpleasant; the clinking of the glasses, and the general

humming

of so many voices, seemed to come to him from very far away. " I will rest just a minute or two," he said to himself; " i t is nice and warm in here, and I shan't find a fire when I get home." Suddenly he caught the word " Giacinta ; " it was followed with a roar of laughter. lifted his head and listened.

He

A t the officers'

table, just close to his own, the sudden break up at the opera was being discussed, and one of the gentlemen, a cavalry captain, with a rather bald head and an immense yellow beard, seemed

to

have

made some very

amusing remark, for it was some time before he could stop laughing and put down his glass. "Yes,"

said

another,

"this

will

have

204

M E L T I N G SNOWS

made a sensation in more places than one. What will our dear friend George have to say for himself.

Well, there's a good way

out of his misery.

Mark my words, the

broken voice of this little Galieri will be the means of giving to the world at the very

least

stuff

of

as

much

am

some three dozen sonnets or

that as

really

sort, our

quite

so

he

won't suffer

excellent anxious

Hofrath. to

see

I

what

sort of face he, poor man, will be pulling to-morrow." " O h , it won't matter to him; be happy

enough.

I

don't

he will

believe

that

they have really made any fixed arrangement with the little thing at the theatre, and in that case she will fall entirely into his hands.

And then just wait, Macaes will

get his charming prize, and attain the point for which he has long been aiming." " Oh, will he though!" interrupted the captain.

" Several

small

difficulties

are

MELTING SNOWS

205

yet prepared for the Hofrath.

I heard of

something in a roundabout way yesterday. Frau Lydia, amongst others, told me of it. T h e little girl is a regular sly-fox;

she

allows the Hofrath to smooth her way; she even allows him to defray the expense of her toilette and other small details, but for the

rest she has got a lover, a regular

lover.

T h e creature is a sort of student,

and probably she supports him entirely." " T h i s is repulsive," said a hot-blooded lieutenant, who was sitting at the end of the table. " Repulsive ?

What

do

you

mean ? "

laughed the captain; " o n the contrary, it is perfectly natural, and a very

pleasant

thing for the rest of us to know of.

We

may gather from this that Fräulein

Gia-

cinta has a loving heart and— know

what

Valentin

says

Don't you in

' Faust.'

It's my favourite love scene—a splendid thing—-

20Ö

MELTING SNOWS ' Du fingst mit Einem heimlich an, Bald kommen ihrer mehre dran, Und wenn dich erst ein Dutzend hat, So hat dich auch '"

His quotation was suddenly cut short. Bent stood in front of him, motionless; his bloodshot eyes were fixed with an uncanny quiet look upon the man.

His appearance

was strange; a deadly stillness fell over the whole assembly.

In vain he strove for

words ; the pause was so long, that some of the officers looked at each other and rose to go. " This

accursed

way

of

carousing

in

public," one of them murmured; " t h e man must be mad." Bent didn't hear him ; he had never moved his eyes from his enemy. " Sir," he said, in a low hoarse voice, " h e who slanders a woman, of whatever sort she may be, is a H e said the word.

"

MELTING SNOWS

207

It was as though lightning had struck the table. feet.

T h e gentlemen sprang to their

T h e captain turned ashy pale;

he

felt for his sword, but it was buried in a corner, under a pile of cloaks and caps; also, one of the older men had seized him by the arm. " F o r God's sake," he murmured, "don't have a row in this place.

Come, gentlemen,"

he said aloud to the others, and very low with a courteous accent he turned to Bent, " Follow us, if you please—we can talk better outside." The officers threw their cloaks over their shoulders and went off.

T h e little scene had

played itself out so quickly, that no one had even noticed it.

When they got into the

street, the captain whispered something to one of the gentlemen, and then turned to Bent. "You have insulted me," he said in an overbearing

voice, and

his hand,

which

208

MELTING SNOWS

rested on the hilt of his sword, trembled with excitement. capable

of

" I hope

giving

me

that you are

satisfaction,

that you will defend your words.

and Any-

how, this gentleman," he pointed to the lieutenant,

"will

not

leave

the

spot

till

some conclusion has been arrived at. for you,

sirs,"

he said

in a

As

low voice,

" I must ask you to use your discretion for the

present;

affair is

extremely

the

fact is, that

unpleasant.

It

this is

a

question of a student, or something of that sort." He

turned

and

went

off, the

others

followed, talking in suppressed murmurs. " O f course it's the man

himself—the

lover," one of them said distinctly.

Bent

had doubled his fists together, his breast heaved with terrible emotion.

T h e lieu-

tenant, who had stopped behind, touched his arm gently. " My

name"—and

he

muttered

some

MELTING SNOWS

incomprehensible sounds.

209

" May I ask to

whom I have the honour of speaking ? " " My name is Sorenson ; I am a student in this university, and will fight to-morrow in the manner which we can now arrange." " Under the circumstances you could not do otherwise," said the officer with extreme coolness. question.

"Allow

me

to ask

you

one

Have you any personal reason

for defending

Fráulein

this violent fashion ?

Galieri's cause in Are you connected

with the lady ? " " N o , " said Bent, in a firm voice. defended her any

lady

"I

as I would have defended

whom

I

had

heard

openly

slandered." The officer sneered. " T h e n , " he said, " w e may as well continue.

The arrangements concerning duels

with students are rather strict in our regiment. any

Are

you

well - known

in a position to name person

who

would o

be

2 io

M E L T I N G SNOWS

able to furnish me with particulars about you ?

I will put it simply.

I want you to

tell me of some one who would be able to give you a good character. sign

that

I distrust you,"

seeing that Bent started.

This

is no

he

continued,

"It

is a pure

formality, and will greatly help to smooth matters." " I hardly know hoarsely,

" but

Hofrath.

A

any

you

little

one," Bent

may

apply

said

to

the

time ago he told me

that I might count on his protection." " T u r n to w h o m ? "

said

the

officer in

a louder voice, for he scarcely believed his ears. "To the

the

subject

Hofrath, who seemed to be of

your

conversation

a

few

minutes ago." "So,

to the Hofrath?

Strange.

Well,

any doubt there might be about you would soon be settled in that quarter.

I must

now ask you to send your second to me

MELTING SNOWS

early

to-morrow

morning

211

before

A n d at the same time, I take the

eleven. liberty

of telling you that according to our agreement, which

is

strictly

honourable,

the

second must be some one who is of age, or anyhow, in a responsible

position.

Of

course you will have no difficulty in finding some one who will be willing to do you this service." " I have just had the honour of telling you," Bent answered, " t h a t I have a very small number of acquaintances in this town. But I have one friend who I know would help me in this matter, and who, I think, would answer to what you say is needed in a second.

His name is von Versen."

T h e officer stepped back ; he could not suppress a cry of astonishment. "Versen?"

he repeated;

"George

von

Versen—the son of the late minister ?

But

he is an officer in our regiment." " May be he is," Bent answered.

" I was

212

MELTING SNOWS

not aware of the fact. go straight to him now.

Anyhow, I shall I must ask you

to excuse me." H e bowed and went off down the street. The lieutenant watched his retreating form, and then he shook his head, for it struck him that his captain had probably got to deal with a very different sort of person to what he had at first imagined. Ten minutes later Bent knocked at Versen's door.

H e had walked very quickly.

The coarse, dissolute laugh of the officers as they

mentioned Giacinta's

still ringing in his ears. forget it.

He

name was could not

A servant with powdered hair

opened the door, and led him through a garden, where the white shoulders of marble statues

shone

greenery.

amongst

They passed

deep

hedges

of

over to a small

building two stories high, which stood at one end of the garden. " The

young

gentleman

is

with

his

M E L T I N G SNOWS

mother,"

the

servant

said.

213

" I will

tell

him that you are here." Bent

gazed

on his

surroundings

something approaching to fear. his

excitement

magnificence. dously rich.

with

In spite of

he was

startled by

Versen

must

be

their

tremen-

H e had never even thought of

the possibility of a rich young man studying at

college

like

other

poor

students.

A small fire was burning in the grate, for the night was damp.

Timidly

nearer,

his

and

warmed

Bent drew

fingers

at

the

blaze; then he looked anxiously round the room.

It was full of strange and beautiful

objects : the carpets were soft to the tread ; there were low easy-chairs, a heavy

oak

writing - table,

books

and

elk's

head

covered

with

papers, and above it a great

with gigantic horns; the firelight flickered over the armour on the walls.

Then

he

noticed a faint scent coming from a distant corner where

flowers

were

growing in a

214

MELTING SNOWS

big stand, and when he looked nearer he saw a mass of pale blue violets in bloom. H e bent down over them ; their small cool petals brushed his forehead; their scented breath reminded him of something in Giacinta's soft black

hair.

H e started, and

put his hand to his forehead.

Then he

heard a curtain pushed back, and George came into the room. George went shook his hand;

quickly up to him

and

he seemed excited and

disturbed. " I am so glad to see you, Bent," he said. you

" I am more than ever glad to see to-day.

I am unhappy;

something

has just happened which has distressed me very much.

Sit down," he continued, as

he turned up the lamp, and its soft full light fell over the room;

" and

then, I

wanted to tell you that it isn't kind of a friend to hide himself away for days and days, as you have done.

But heavens,

MELTING SNOWS

215

Bent," he cried, jumping up from his chair, " h o w extraordinary you look! happened ?

What

has

A r e you ill ? "

" Listen," said Bent, and his voice trembled.

" Once in a minute of infatuation you

swore that you would be my friend, but everything seems to be tottering under my feet.

George, I come to you to ask if you will

help me.

I am in a terrible strait, my spirit

is almost broken. deed my friend ?

Will you help me now ? "

" Through life answered. yours. me.

A r e you really and inand

" Everything

in death," which

Versen

I have is

Only tell me your trouble, and trust I will not deceive you."

A smile of indescribable melancholy came over Bent's face.

" I only asked you whether

you were still my friend," he said, " because I didn't know till this minute that you were a very rich man.

But I see that it's all right.

Listen to me.

I had just left the theatre.

Fräulein Galieri had made her first appear-

216

MELTING SNOWS

ance in public.

She fell ill; she will pro-

bably never get work again . . . ." H e paused for a minute to gather his strength.

Versen was watching him with

an expression of the wildest astonishment. " I left the theatre. rant.

I went into a restau-

I wanted to drink something hot, for

I felt ill.

Some officers were sitting at the

next table.

They spoke of the unfortunate

performance, and of Fräulein Galieri; and one of them, a captain, said "—Bent's voice was breaking with

the passion

shame of the t h i n g — " h e

and

the

said that

she

accepted money from the Hofrath, and that she had some secret lover, who was living at her expense . . . ." Versen jumped up, a dark red light shot over his face, his eyes flashed with deadly anger ; and, " Oh," he said, in a deep stern voice which trembled, "it seems I have no luck in life.

Would to God I had been

in your place!"

MELTING SNOWS

" Let me finish, George. tain that he lied.

217

I told the cap-

T h e gentlemen went off

at once; but one stayed with me, and we came to an understanding about the satisfaction I should have to give.

I mentioned

your name.

T h e gentleman seemed much

astonished.

H e said you were an officer in

their regiment; and, George, I wanted to ask you whether you would stand by me ? I have no other friend but you, and I will try never to worry you in the future if only you will help me now." H e stopped and looked up timidly

at

Versen, who stood motionless in front of the fire.

A terrible change had come over his

face, and Bent

must have been

intensely excited not to notice it. was a pause.

himself There

At last Versen drew his hand,

as though he were dreaming, across his forehead. " Could you tell me," he said wearily, " w h y you mixed yourself up in the con-

218

MELTING SNOWS

versation of these men ? from a wish to defend

Was it purely

some defenceless

woman whom you heard attacked, or had you "—all tone had gone out of his voice— " h a d you any particular claim in the case of Fraulein Galieri ? " " T h e officer who was making the arrangements with me asked me just that same question," said Bent, " b u t I did not tell him the truth.

It is bad enough to have

been driven to lie to an honourable man. But there was nothing else for it, George," he stammered, and doubled his

fists

so

tight together that his nails went deep into his flesh. Then the false excitement, which had sustained him hitherto, gave way.

He

broke down and sobbed like a little child. " George," he said at last, " I love Giacinta, and she loves me.

She is mine

before God." Versen's face grew deadly pale.

It was

so white, it seemed as though every drop

MELTING SNOWS

219

of blood had left it; but when Bent looked up at him, he only saw the which

watched

him

earnestly

quiet face, and

very

gently. " W i l l you stand by me, G e o r g e ? " he asked.

His voice had grown clear.

confession had calmed great

repose,

almost

His

him; a feeling of of

happiness,

had

entered his soul. "Certainly,"

Versen answered.

"Don't

trouble yourself any further about it.

But

as to the Hofrath, I may as well tell you a little about him, for I know. honourable man. his

power

to

He

help

He is an

did everything in

Fräulein

Galieri,

to

smooth her way, and to get her admitted to

the theatre.

him to do it.

I

believe

that

it

hurt

It went to his heart, for

he is a sensible man, and he must have known that this weak child, fired with her art, was

too tender, too like a budding

flower, to succeed in the hard life of the

220

stage.

MELTING SNOWS

And every one who has ever seen

her says the same thing.

You

yourself

ought to have known it better than any man." " D o you know Giacinta?" Bent asked, astonished in his turn. "Yes," said Versen, making a sad attempt to laugh. only met

her

" Don't be afraid, I have once or twice at parties,

either at the Hofrath's or at my mother's. But now I advise you to go to bed ; you are overdone, and

it is nearly midnight.

I will come to you to-morrow, and we will arrange matters more thoroughly.

Take

courage, Bent; don't worry yourself, don't be so sad about the future.

I have sworn

to be your friend, and I will stick to my word whatever happens.

There can't be

anything worse than this," he added bitterly to himself. Bent gave him both his hands with a sort of enthusiasm, and George made a

MELTING SNOWS

tremendous effort and own.

took

221

them

in his

When the door was shut he covered

his face and sank down into a chair.

Thus

he stayed for a long time, then suddenly he got up and went to his desk.

He

took out a flat case covered with dark red velvet.

In it there was a picture of Giacinta.

H e had painted it himself in a masterly way, but only from memory.

It was a

lovely picture, and the delicate little head seemed to look at him with a strange look of melancholy.

H e bent over it awhile,

and then he pressed it to his eyes.

After

that he threw it quickly into the burning embers. "Farewell," he said, "you dream of mine.

pure

short

You, my first and my

last love, good night." Bent was not able to see Giacinta the next day; but she sent him a small note with

two tired lines scratched

upon

it.

222

MELTING SNOWS

She was better, she said; he was not to be anxious about her.

T h e next morning

at daybreak he drove out into the country with Versen.

T h e coachman sat shivering

on his b o x ; he was huddled up in a dirty horse-cloth; the

thin

sometimes he wearily

old

flicked

mares, as though he were

bored. It was an ugly dawn. of an

interminable

plain

From the midst of

rain-washed

fields, the murky blue-grey outlines of a wood arose. " T h a t ' s the place," Versen said laconically. The

" I wish I were in your place, Bent." carriage

stopped.

Four

or

five

men in uniform were walking about in the wet grass.

They chattered together in a

calm sort of way. to one side. the trunk

One man stood a little

H e had put down a box on

of an old uprooted tree, and

seemed to be busy about its contents. " Stop here," Versen said as he got out.

MELTING SNOWS

223

" I have got to say something to those gentlemen.

It is part of the comedy."

He picked up his sword, for he, too, was in full uniform, and he approached group.

the

They seemed to speak excitedly;

they bowed and separated.

One of them

tore off some twigs and stuck them in the ground.

The captain took his cigar out of

his mouth and put it in the fork of a little silver birch near to where he was standing. " Here, Bent, if you please," Versen said, in a cold voice of command. Another gentleman came up and

gave

Bent a pistol at half-cock. " A f t e r the order to fire," he said, shall count three.

"I

You can shoot during

that time, but neither before nor after.

Do

you understand ? " Bent nodded. Versen came up to him and said, " Keep cool, and at least cock good-bye, Bent."

your pistol.

So

224

MELTING SNOWS

H e stepped aside. " A r e the gentlemen ready ? —two

Fire !

One

"

Bent saw the captain standing in front of him.

H e instinctively aimed at his chest,

but the trigger of his pistol worried him. H e couldn't manage it. H e felt a shock, and for a long time he lay in the grass ; he was quite conscious.

He

saw a little wreath of smoke rising up over the damp copse.

H e saw Versen run to-

wards him, and he felt him put his arm about his neck.

T h e doctor was kneeling on his

other side, watching him with a penetrating look.

H e lifted Bent's eyelids, and then he

tore open his clothes and sounded his chest. "Lift

your

arm,"

he said;

"so—now

breathe once deeply, very deep."

H e laid

his head against Bent's breast and then he got up.

" I hope," he said to the others,

"that the lung is not injured.

T h e ball is

lodged between the collar bone and the first

MELTING SNOWS

225

rib; in six weeks he may be quite out of danger." The seconds left their places ; the captain took up his cigar again.

It was still burning,

and he put it in his mouth. " I f you will allow me, I shall now go home," he said, with a slight bow.

"Many

thanks, gentlemen, and good-bye for the present.

Have

let me have

the goodness,

doctor,

to

news of Herr Sorenson

as

often as possible." They separated.

Versen, with the help

of the doctor, got Bent to the carriage.

He

laid him gently on the cushions, and told the coachman to drive slowly back to the town. Very earnestly and in silence he looked into his

friend's white face.

Sometimes

Bent

opened his eyes, and smiled at him faintly. T h e doctor stopped at the gates of

the

town, and scrambled out of the carriage. " I have to go round the hospitals to-day," he said, " a n d I haven't a minute to spare, p

226

MELTING SNOWS

but of course I will send round one of my colleagues at once.

It would be far better if

you, Herr von Versen, would get out too, and let your friend drive back alone, for in this way the thing won't be noticed.

H e can

quite well go upstairs without assistance, and put himself to bed.

You feel strong enough

for that, don't you ? " he said, turning to Bent. "Certainly," Bent answered quickly. " You have only expressed my own wishes.

Please

leave me, George," he added, seeing him hesitate.

" Y o u can come to me in an hour

or two.

I should rather get into my room

as quietly as possible." A feverish desire to be alone was shown in all his person; his eyes sparkled, his cheeks were slightly

flushed.

Once again

Versen looked at him, and then he decided to let the carriage go on. "He

has

already

got

fever from his

wound," he said to the little doctor, who had hurried on in front.

MELTING SNOWS

"Certainly,

227

certainly, dear baron,"

little man answered.

the

" I f you go to him

towards evening, he won't recognise you." They walked on in silence. " Listen, sir," said Versen, drawing up all of a sudden. sense.

" Let us have no non-

Will he die, or will he not ? "

"Die?

Hum—you

pretty clear.

Die?

put your

questions

Who can say?

The

wound itself is not mortal, but the young man has a decidedly nervous temperament, and that's always a bad look-out in a case of this sort.

Added to this, he struck me

as being affected morally and generally run down.

in

some

way,

It is quite certain

that the same wound would have had a very different effect on the captain.

Now,

that man is a regular giant—a splendidly phlegmatic, unexcitable temperament.

One

point is quite clear: the captain can look forward to a far longer lease of life than either your friend or I."

228

M E L T I N G SNOWS

" Y o u are much mistaken, my dear sir," said Versen.

" Y o u have made an entirely

wrong diagnosis of the case for once in a way.

T h e captain is just as ill as Bent

Sorenson.

If my friend dies, the captain

will survive him for twenty-four hours at the very utmost." " I don't understand, my dear sir; you speak in riddles.

But what's the matter.

Y o u look quite strange." " I

should

have

given

you

credit

greater intelligence, doctor," said his

face

was

suddenly

for

Versen;

disfigured.

an old hunter, and a dead shot too.

"I'm If

Bent Sorenson dies, the captain dies also. And now I must wish you a very good morning, my dear sir." In the meantime Bent had got out of his carriage, and was climbing up the steep stairs to his room.

H e pressed his teeth

tightly together, and the sweat broke out on his forehead.

Luckily nobody met him ;

MELTING SNOWS

229

the children were away at school, the maid was still at the market; Frau

Bitterlich's

door was ajar, but she was angry. had ceased to pay any attention comings and goings of her lodger.

She

to the She

heard his footstep, but she no longer turned her head at his approach. his room in safety. chair.

Bent reached

H e fell heavily into a

A terrible thought had come into

his head.

It was nearly Easter time; the

holidays would be here, and, according to a sworn promise, he ought to spend them at home with his people.

T h e old pastor

had counted on seeing his son after two years' absence—he wanted to read into the heart of his boy, he said.

And now Bent's

shoulder was strapped together; he had six weeks of illness ahead. the end of it all ? parents' ears. duel.

W h a t would be

It must never reach his

They must not hear of the

Why, his mother would die with the

grief and the shame of the thing, and his

230

M E L T I N G SNOWS

father would withdraw

his

blessing

from

one, who had lifted his hand against his neighbour

with

the

what could he do ?

desire

to

kill.

But

How could he avoid

this journey home ? Bent thought and thought.

Dimly

he

felt that the minutes which still were left to him were numbered.

A t last he dragged

himself along to the table.

H e took a bit

of paper, and then he wrote :

" DEAR

FATHER

AND M O T H E R , — I

am

so

sorry, but I cannot come to see you as I had

wished.

A

Russian prince is going

to take me with him to Italy during the holidays. ment.

I cannot get out of this engage-

It may be of the greatest importance

for me in the future. Poor boy!

..."

A s he wrote this nonsense

his hand trembled so violently, that the lines ran together—all crooked down the page.

MELTING SNOWS

H e didn't see it. mighty

231

H e sealed it up with a

effort, then

darkness

crept

over

his eyes, and he fell with his whole length across his bed.

The bandage had got loose ;

a little stream of blood oozed over

Frau

Bitterlich's clean white pillows, and slowly, slowly

it trickled

well-scoured floor.

down and fell on the Then night closed in.

Bent lay there long unconscious. didn't

wake

lock;

he

broke

in the

when

went on door.

they

tore

sleeping

He

off

when

the they

T h e heavy, palsied

night which lay upon his spirit took from him all power of sensation ; it made him indifferent to impressions.

Sometimes

it

seemed to him as though his head were swimming, and he heard a noise like the music one makes on a fingers.

glass with one's

Then a cool small hand was laid

on his forehead, and into the sultry feeling around him a faint sweet scent, like the breath of violets, came and stayed.

He

232

MELTING SNOWS

drew a long breath, and a wonderful sense of relief came over

him.

So

the

days

passed slowly by, till suddenly it seemed to the sick man torn from his eyes.

as

though a veil were

An unutterable anguish

possessed him ; his whole soul reared itself up

and

struggled

for consciousness.

A

thundering voice which he knew so well— only too well the poor boy knew it—fell on his ears; the words struck back upon his fevered brain like the striking of heavy iron nails. " T h e place by this bed is mine!

I, and

I only, can heal my son," it said. With a superhuman effort Bent opened his eyes, and he raised himself up on his bed; but his left side was paralysed, and with a shudder of agony he fell back on the pillows.

The windows were darkened,

but in the dim light he saw a figure glide past him;

the head was bowed, and on

the lips there was a sob.

A gigantic old

MELTING SNOWS

233

man stood by the bed ; his arm was lifted ; with a terrible expression he pointed towards the door. And

now the work

of that

orthodox

Lutheran priest began, and for more than an hour the thunder of his sermon rumbled on over who

the unconscious

merely

pillow.

lay

and

head of

groaned

Bent,

upon

his

First he gave the parent's curse,

and then he piled upon it all the curses and damnation of the Bible.

Lastly, Bent

was compelled to sign his name to a paper which the clergyman had written out for him.

The horny fingers of the old man

forced the pen into led it over the paper.

his son's hand, and At last the doctor

came and set the sick man free.

As he

lay in a sort of giddy slumber, the clergyman sat at the table and wrote to wife.

his

It was a long letter ; one sentence

ran thus: " Praise be to God the Lord, Bathsheba

234

MELTING SNOWS

has been driven away.

W e have got our

son again."

H e was almost wrong for once, the rigid Lutheran priest.

A terrible nervous fever

brought Bent to the edge of the grave ; it was long, very long, before he began to recover.

And

in

the

meantime

slowly,

inexorably, in spite of the struggle which tired her spirit, Giacinta's fate was decided. The world said it was a happy one.

Those

two were not allowed to die, because they had loved each other too well. to live

They were

on,, and to learn to forget one

another. A year had come and gone, and once again it was a dull grey day in March. A procession of grand carriages came up the street and stopped at the door of the cathedral.

The Hofrath stepped out of the

first with Giacinta on his arm.

Madame

MELTING SNOWS

Galieri came behind.

235

She wore a gown

of gorgeous yellow silk, and a red rose in her hair; she seemed to be swimming in a bath of purest happiness.

The gentle-

man, on whose arm she hung, was covered with stars, and he hurried quickly up the steps with his burden.

T h e church was

crowded, the shimmer of a rainy day filtered sadly through the stained glass windows. The

high altar was a blaze of

candles;

a thin soft cloud of incense rose up and curled away above it; the side aisles were all in darkness, except where their pillars caught a sombre glow from the altar. the organ awoke; at first, but

Then

the prelude was faint

it grew louder

and

louder,

till it roared from the depths—great chords striving

towards

the resurrection ;

the light like songs of finally

it broke into a

brilliant flood of melody and joy.

A dead

silence followed, and in the quiet the priest's words slowly fell.

The rain ran down the

236

MELTING SNOWS

window panes, and the spring wind sobbed in the tower of St. John.

Then the bells

began to jangle, the crowd pressed up to the doors, and the last notes of the Gloria went

over

the

dense

throng

of

people.

T w o men came out from the dark aisles and approached the altar.

side

One of

them was old ; his face was deeply lined ; with tender care he supported the weight of

his ill and

broken-down

son.

The

old man stopped when he got to the altar. He dared not approach it nearer, and he stayed there watching the golden ornaments, as though in anger or in scorn. sick

man went on.

the low rail and covered

the

But the

H e pushed through

over the carpet

steps.

A

silken

which cushion

was lying there; a minute before Giacinta had

knelt

upon

it.

A

couple

of faded

violets, fallen out of the wedding bouquet, lay beside it, and a narrow strip of lace, torn from the wedding veil.

H e gathered

MELTING SNOWS

all these things together;

237

he buried his

head in his hands, and then he wept. Bent has never seen Giacinta again.

A

year later he passed his examination with a great struggle, and so he got the desired appointment. His family are

provided

for now; the

Pfarrer has a bit of roast meat on his table, and he can pay for the schooling of the younger children.

Bent has abandoned all

his old mathematical studies. say, he has become a poet.

Strange to A handful of

songs which he wrote for Giacinta created a great sensation—they almost made him famous, but they were his first and his best work, his later poems are rough or indistinct.

One traces in them, it is true, the

presence of

a

certain

power,

but

of a

power which ripened too early and broke, as it were, in the kernel. succeed as a poet.

H e will never

H e is scarcely even

238

read

MELTING SNOWS

in

his

own country,

talent is always

admired

where and

young

cared

Giacinta is a beautiful quiet woman.

for. She

has become a faithful nurse to her husband, who now is growing old.

She has

never sung again, nor does she ever read poems, not even Bent's.

As for George

von Versen, he has gone off on foreign travels such as one rarely if ever returns from.

Indeed, they have all disappeared—

vanished in the melting snows.

THE

QUEEN

OF

THÜLE

D E R KONIG IN

THÜLE.

Es war ein König in Thüle, Gar treu bis an das Grab, Dem sterbend seine Buhle Einen goldnen Becher gab. Es ging ihm nichts darüber Er leert ihn jeden Schmaus ; Die Augen gingen ihm über So oft er trank daraus. Und als er kam zu sterben Zählt er seine Stadt im Reich, Gönnt alles seinem Erben, Den Becher nicht zugleich. Er sass beim Königsmahle, Die Ritter um ihn her, Auf hohem Vätersaale Dort auf dem Schloss am Meer. Dort stand der alte Zecher, Trank letzte Lebensgluth, Und warf den heil'gen Becher Hinunter in die Fluth. Er sah ihn stürzen, trinken Und sinken tief ins Meer, Die Augen thäten ihm sinken, Trank nie einen Tropfen mehr.

T H E QUEEN OF T H U L E A

SMALL

circle of old friends were gathered

together in Frau Regina's yellow silk drawingroom. Two or three of the men were celebrities, and Frau Regina was the beauty among the women. Tea was over ; we had had good talk.

Our hostess had a particular gift for

turning the smallest occurrence to some good account.

Either she made it into a joke, or

else she gave it a quite original meaning.

It

was thanks to her that the conversation had begun so brilliantly, then sunk to the serious strain of deeper topics, where only a few could speak at once, and that there had finally come a pause.

Usually a pause of

this sort—sometimes called the flight of an angel through a room—is the sign of a certain weakness, or of a lack of ideas in the Q

242

THE QUEEN OF THULE

people who are assembled ; but in our case it was nothing of the sort.

It was simply an

interval—a sure proof that words had been spoken which required serious thought and deep consideration. " Will you sing to us, dear lady ? " some one suggested at last. There Regina.

was

no

affectation about

Frau

She scorned it, and indeed she

had no reason to be affected.

She simply

smoothed the soft black hair from off her forehead, and then sat down to the piano. Some heavy minor chords floated out from the

keys

as

she

touched them, then

a

splendid though half-suppressed voice rang out and sang— " There was a K i n g of Thule

"

She had a peculiar touch, and a strange way of singing; she never moved her body, but a wonderful expression came into her eyes, and she turned very pale, as though the power of her own singing caused her pain.

THE QUEEN OF THULE

243

She sang better than ever to-day, for she brought a great dramatic force into the words of her song.

When she came to the

point where the old king throws his holy goblet into the sea, we were literally staggered by the power of her expression.

A

short murmuring finale followed, and then she arose.

Her dazzling

pale silk

train

stretched far across the carpet as she walked. The candle-light played about her diamond trinkets, and wove them into dancing rays and glittering threads across her soft dark hair, till it seemed as through the golden crown of a king were resting on her lovely forehead. There was a strange look about her, and we noticed for the first time how well she fitted the ballad she had sung. " The Queen of Thule," said a mysterious voice. " Oh, how delightful — the

Queen

of

Thule!"

cried the little Contessina, and

clapped

her

hands delightedly.

"How

244

T H E QUEEN OF THULE

romantic it sounds, how poetical, and how delicious !" " Y e s , indeed!" several voices chimed in. " It makes one stop and

think

The Queen of Thule—strange.

a

little.

Everybody

is for ever talking about the old king, but no one so much as thinks of the queen, no poet has ever sung her praises.

How is it

possible that she should have been ignored in this way ?

T h e thing is so apparent, it

strikes one at once. like ?

What did she look

I wonder what style of figure she

had ?

What, indeed, was the

Queen of

Thule?" " I

imagine her to have been a good

match for the

king — an

heroic

maiden,

rough like himself—extremely fair, with a regular flood of golden hair." " No, no, a thousand was

a

loving,

timorous

times

no!

woman.

She Only

think of what the writer of ' Castle Boncourt ' said in ' one of his finest passages.

THE QUEEN OF THULE

245

You know the one I mean: ' A n old king stood on his castle roof,' and

then—'his

darling love came to him . . " Yes, that's all right.

But in the German

version anyway, the queen has got a sister, and we hear a great deal about this said sister

in

other

songs.

You

remember

Charles the Great's sweetheart, who gave him the 'little ring black and red,' when she was dying, and whom he could never forget." " Yes, it's

the same story over again,

with this difference: it was written during the Christian era, and so it's much more sentimental, much paler. cense, so to speak. of that pagan king;

It smells of in-

I far prefer the figure he seems to nod at

me, as though he still were full of life, from out the grey and distant ages.

And then

there is a certain melancholy beauty in the fact that the song tells us nothing at all about

the

dead lover.

She

has

shrunk

246

THE QUEEN OF THULE

away, and no one knows what she was like. But nothing can prevent us from dragging her forth to the light, and we may deck her with every enchantment and with every poem with which her name inspires us." " Yes, indeed, she must have been beautiful, and worthy of her husband's faith in her." "Certainly," said Frau Regina, "because above all things she herself was faithful." " No," said Gunther Stormeck suddenly. He had sat by himself the whole of the evening and had not spoken a single word. Every one turned upon him. " The Queen of Thule was faithless, did you say ?" the ladies asked with one accord. " What a strange idea. What on earth put it into your head ?" " S h e was false," Gunther repeated, in a quiet voice. " H a d she been true to him, the king would not have gone on weeping for her as he did. It is only the woman whom we have lost early, the

THE QUEEN OF THULE

247

woman who has caused us deepest anguish, that we love until we die." " D i d you know the Queen of T h u l e ? " Frau Regina asked in scorn. Gunther

looked

her

through

with' a

strange look. "Certainly I knew

her," he said very

slowly. " Y o u r assurance is quite revolting, Herr von Stormeck," cried the little Contessa, and shut up her fan with a click.

" There you sat

in your corner the whole of the evening, and no one could get so much as a syllable from you, and now you begin to make fun of us all.

If you have any hope of justifying your

unwarrantable behaviour, there is only one thing left for you to do—you must tell us how you first had the honour of knowing the Queen of Thule, and after that I shall still hope to hear her story." " Y o u are pitiless, Contessina," answered after a pause.

Gunther

" I t would not

248

T H E QUEEN OF THULE

be easy to tell the story here, in this room,, where a

regular display of fireworks im

the shape of wit and wisdom has beeni going off so long." "You

retract,"

cried the

Countess ini

triumph.

" This must not and it shall not b e

allowed.

You have irritated us often enough

with your paradoxes, which we could not contradict, and now it is only fair that we: should for once .have the fun of seeing you up a tree yourself.

Don't you agree:

with me, Frau Regina?

He oughtn't to

be let off so easily. us the story.

He simply must tell

Make him do it."

The beautiful woman laughed.

" Do tell

us your story, Herr von Stormeck," she said, and there was something almost passionate in her voice. "Well, if it has to be," said Gunther, " I suppose I must needs obey. regina,

jubes

renovare

dolorem.

Infandum, But

I

must tell you from the first, Contessina,

THE QUEEN OF THULE

that

you

will

be

horribly

249

disappointed.

What I have got to tell is nothing a fairy tale, pure and simple.

but

There is

nothing particularly clever about it.

Un-

luckily I was not endowed with a faire de Pesprit." " Ah, a fairy tale," cried the vivacious and lovely little Roman, as she settled herself comfortably down in her chair. is delightful.

" That

I do so enjoy listening to

fairy tales." Gunther Stormeck came out of his corner and leant against the fireplace.

He was

thin; he was not exactly young, and he looked extremely tired.

" I t is only a fairy

tale," he repeated, as though to excuse himself.

Then he began—

" A thousand years ago things were quite different to what they are to-day.

The black

frock-coat had not been invented, and as for railways, they did not exist.

So as it

happened, I rode one day to the door of

250

a castle.

THE QUEEN OF THULE

I was dressed as a knight, and

mounted on a prancing steed.

The castle

stood high above the sea, and round it there were gardens full of

flowers.

It was built of

pure white marble, and had quantities of little roofs and turrets.

The gates were closed;

the lions before them lay stiff and rigid, as though they had fallen asleep while stretching out their paws.

People in those days

had not got visiting cards ; they rarely paid a call.

Just think what a terrible state

of affairs, Contessina!

So there was no-

thing for it but to take my harp and sing a song.

T h e notes went out upon

the

air and swept round the pointed gables of the roofs like swallows.

Then, as though

by magic, the gates went up.

I rode in

over the bridge, which was paved with purest silver, and passing through courts, where the fountains played, I stopped at the foot of the big

open staircase;

my

reins were slackened, my helmet open wide.

THE QUEEN OF THULE

251

" A n d then I saw the Queen of Thule! She stood on the top of the balcony surrounded by her ladies.

She wore a soft

white gown, which shimmered in the sunlight,

and there

was a little wreath

white spring flowers in her hair.

of

Knights

and men were pressing up on either side of

the

armour.

staircase—tall Some

Moors

cushion and laid queen.

forms in carried

it at

the

glittering a

velvet

feet of

the

I knelt upon the cushion, and I

offered her

the greeting

Softly she gave me me to arise.

her

of

knighthood.

hand, and told

She had a gentle way of

speaking, but all the same I felt a sudden bashfulness and hung my head. more beautiful than

any

She was

creature I had

ever looked upon. "Then their

the

horns

heralds

from

out

blew a call four towers;

queen gave me her hand me to the feast.

upon the

again and led

It was spread in a lofty

252

THE QUEEN OF THULE

hall, and the sun shone in upon it.

Mag-

nificent dishes adorned the table.

On one

of

custom,

these,

according

to

an

old

there was a brazen bowl, with the head of a bull in a dish of red, and a crown of beech

leaves

round

it;

and there were

tall jugs standing full to slake the thirst of

the

heroes.

The

queen

took

white

bread and broke it; she gave me some, and passed it to the others.

Sometimes

she took a cup full of light golden wine. It was so heavy that her hand trembled as she held it.

She drank from it and

then she passed it to me.

But I — I found

the place upon the rim her lips had touched, and I emptied the cup to the last dregs. T h e wine was sweet;

a rosy light came

up

I

before

as through

my a

eyes;

seemed

to

see,

veil, that two old knights

were laughing kindly, and that the queen cast down her eyes, as though she were ashamed.

T H E QUEEN OF THULE

253

" ' Sing to us,' she said of a sudden ; ' w e love to hear the tales of distant lands.' " There was silence in the hall, and I rose to my feet.

Insolent faces of heroes,

beautiful women's eyes looked up at me. A page brought me my harp, and I saw that a little spray of white spring flowers was twisted

through

the golden

strings.

This stirred a perfect storm within Back went my head. and

passionately,

me.

I seized the strings,

desperately,

with

wild

exhilaration, I sang of the beautiful Herzeloyde, and of the Holy Grail;

I sang of

all the things which fought and wrestled within my heart—of mighty loves, of knighthood, and of the beauty of women.

And

I, the happy singer, I saw that the men grasped their sword-hilts tighter, and that the women dropped their hands upon their laps, and, breathing deep, looked up at me. I saw that the queen herself sat motionless and white to the lips with my singing;

254

THE QUEEN OF THULE

while her great eyes grew dark and still more dark, and her mouth pulled slightly, as though with pride or pain. " And then I stopped with one last ringing, piercing touch of the strings. Wild swans, flying in a white scattered line across the sea, answered me clearly. A long applause rang out, and cup touched cup to praise me. Then we rose from the feast and went upon the balcony. Far down below us the sea rolled in the light of the summer evening, the heaven was white, and little clouds, red like the petals of roses, lay over the horizon line. The knights went down to tend their horses, the women sat apart in a circle, spinning; and as they sat they sang an old and lovely roundelay. "'Come,' the queen said suddenly, and took me by the arm. " T h e n slowly we went together down many flights of steps towards the gardens.

THE QUEEN OF THULE

255

T h e y lay there broad and shimmering in the last rays of the evening light.

A crisper

scent of young green leaves came to us from the woods beyond. find

W e could not

a single little word to say to one

another—love blossoms quick in the land of Thule. hand,

We walked in silence, hand in

two

beings.

dreaming,

shuddering

human

The moon had arisen; a damp

wind fanned across our foreheads; then all the roses bowed their deep red

bosoms,

and

to

gave

their

fragrance

silver light of the moon.

forth

the

She had thrown

her arm about my neck, and she looked up at me with dark, happy eyes. " T h e n a horn blew in the first

quite

softly, then

and disappearing.

growing

wood,

at

stronger

The sound was strange,

eager, and sad, disturbing and consoling all in one.

A

shudder

slender

figure.

went

through

her

She turned aside, and to-

wards the blast; but I was seized with a

256

THE QUEEN OF THULE

terrible pain.

I drew myself together, and

grasped the hilt of my sword. " Once more the horn rang out, nearer as it seemed, then far away.

Nielsen the:

Dane had blown like that when he called Mette out to her death. " She tore herself suddenly out of my arms.

' If

you are a good

me,' she said. not be.

man,

leave:

' T h i s must not, and it shall

Farewell.'

" She stretched both hands towards me; and

went

out

into

the

night.

At

the:

same minute a cold wind rose and blew through pain.

the tree-tops

with

a

shriek

of

The wood closed in behind me like:

a wall, and the moon buried her face among the clouds. " I tore my bugle from my belt to blow a call for help, but it produced no single sound.

I cast it from me, and rushed out

into the night.

I looked for a trace off

the queen, for the gardens and the mighty

THE QUEEN OF THÜLE

257

castle, with its multitude of roofs.

In vain.

When the grey dawn broke on a pale and horrible morning, a swamp.

I stood by the edge of

Fat, broad-leaved plants were

rotting round its shores ; here and there a stunted

willow

raised

its

knobby

head

above the fetid pools of dirty water; and far

away

I

saw

a

peasant

driving

his

thin mares and plough across the wasted land. " ' W h e r e is the castle?' I asked; 'and where is the road to Thüle ?' " H e looked at me awhile, and then he stooped and crossed his breast. us from evil,' he murmured toothless

jaws, then

' Deliver

through

his

he threw the share

out of the stubble, and anxiously he fixed his pale grey eyes upon me. ' " W h e r e is T h ü l e ? '

I asked again, for

a terrible fear was growing upon me. "His

expression

was

sad

and

stern.

' Thüle,' he said, as though he were gatherR

258

THE QUEEN OF THULE

ing together all the powers of memory, 'once I knew it—the way to Thule—but it is long ago, and I've forgotten it.

Bear

with what I say, sir, take a plough, and guide it over the sunken land. I do—work.

Do what

That is the only road which

I can show you; it is the only one which will lead us to our goal.' " And I did as he had bidden me. twisted a cord

I

from the strings of my

harp, and to that I harnessed my war-horse. I broke my sword, and I turned it into a

ploughshare,

plough.

and

then

I

began

to

It was difficult, but still I did it;

and so I have gone on ploughing up till now." •

•

•

Gunther stopped.

•

•

•

Frau Regina had leant

far back in her chair, her face was all in shadow.

A

stern, thoughtful expression

had come into the faces of the men, but the

little

Contessina

was

quite

upset;

THE QUEEN OF THULE her

eyes

wandered

259

hopelessly round the

circle. " I haven't understood a single

thing,"

she said at last and almost angrily. that

was

Strange!

German

fairy tale, was

it ?

Is it d o n e ? "

Gunther regular

a

" So

smiled

'enfant

faintly.

terrible,'"

" You he

said,

are

a

"and

that being the case, I will tell you the moral

of

my story.

Thule, the

blessed

vanished country, is my youth, and that sweet woman whom I lost so early, she, she was the Queen of Thule."

THE

MOTH

THE MOTH THE air was heavy with storm as Gunther Stormeck rode one July evening towards the castle, where the girl lived to whom he was engaged to ago,

down

in the

be

married.

South,

Years

Gunther

had

fallen in love with a woman who would not marry him.

H e had never been able

to

When

forget her.

this

great

crash

came to all his earthly hopes he had gone away

into foreign lands,

there

to

fight

for years on the side of a down-trodden people—to fight, from the very beginning, in a lost cause.

H e had played away his

political position; he had lost the half of his belongings ; his mother, driven half wild with shame and with anger, had left him 263

264

T H E MOTH

and gone to live with a set of distant relations.

It was to make amends to her,

and to win back his mother's love, that Gunther had taken the way to Damascus. He

had

proposed to the daughter of a

great landed proprietor and political economist, and he might thank

his stars that

she had accepted him, and that he should be received, in spite of his decidedly unsteady past, into the middle of this conventional and highly estimable family. Gunther Stormeck, however, accepted his luck with remarkable composure.

It was

impossible to detect the smallest suspicion of hurry or happy impatience as he rode along.

Probably his thoughts were wander-

ing, for he scarcely noticed

the way he

went, and he very rarely looked beyond his horse's head.

T h e heather was flooded

brilliantly with the light of the setting sun, and it shone brown;

with

in the west

a

sort of hot ruddy there was a heavy

THE MOTH bank of

265

clouds, piled one upon another,

and edged with violet and yellow ; from far away across the swamps the cry of some water - bird

arose — wailing,

monotonous,

never ending. Then

the

horse's

hoofs

rang

out

on

firmer ground ; Gunther had left the heather behind him. paved

and

On either side the road was bordered

with splendid

fields

of rye, and these were divided into lines by rows of

fruit-trees; the picture presented

here was one of a particularly well-managed and rich estate.

Half absently, and with no

particular show of interest, Gunther gazed upon the possessions of his future fatherin-law.

Then

he drew himself together,

and almost instinctively he tightened the hold on his reins. kept

to

the

F o r a little while he

same

reached a point

slow

where

pace, the

then

path

he

turned

aside and led up straight as an arrow to a well built country house.

" They might

266

THE MOTH

see me from the castle," Gunther reflected, "and then they would notice how slow I come." So he gently pricked his horse's sides, and got into an easy trot. Lamps were burning in the big garden pavilion, and the family was gathered together round the tea-table ; the cups shone white like flowers, and the tall brass samovar glittered. They received Gunther kindly, but they did not attempt to conceal the fact that it was long past tea-time, and that they had waited for him. Then his fiancée got up and gave him her hand by way of a greeting. She was a pretty blue-eyed girl, with fair sleek hair, parted down the middle ; something very simple and artless was shown in all her being. The pressure of her hand was frank and strong ; one felt that her cool firm fingers had given away a lot of alms, and folded much beautiful and costly linen. The two

THE MOTH

elder

sisters

sat

beside

267

their

father—a

stately man, with a broad, strong face, and a most conscientious expression.

One of

the sisters was a widow, with a charming baby, whose prospects were quite secured for the future.

The

other was happily

married, and only here upon a visit; her husband was a captain in the army, and far away in a small garrison town. During

tea

the

conversation

turned

mainly upon agriculture and housekeeping. The ladies joined in, and their remarks were quiet and well-informed.

The elder

sister was even favoured by an approving acquiescence

from

occasion when

her

father

she had said

quite to the point.

on

one

something

Gunther soon saw

that silence was the best part for him; the few remarks which he had attempted to make were not successful.

At last the

conversation turned upon the absent sonin-law—the captain.

They were all so full

268

THE MOTH

of this person and his life, they were so unanimous

in

their praise

of

him,

and

spoke so enthusiastically directly his name was

mentioned, that

a

touch of genuine

warmth came into their conversation. captain

had

been

years in a small

quartered market

scarcely any intercourse

for

town; with the

The several

he

had

outside

world, and lived a life which was simply and solely devoted to his work.

T h e y praised

him for his sense of duty and his indomitable energy; they laid a particular stress upon the fact of a life of simple, well regulated, and rigidly fulfilled duties being the best and worthiest for man. as

though

They perfect

they

declared model

his post.

He

It seemed almost

accentuated that

the

this

captain

point. was

a

for sticking as he did to even felt happy to work,

although there was not the slightest necessity for it, they said.

His income was quite

large enough to admit of his travelling about

THE MOTH

269

or simply doing nothing at all with his time. They ended their paean by saying for a noble life like that character was, above all things, necessary, and a power to overcome inward doubts and uncertainties. Gunther had listened to their discourse in submissive silence.

He thought to him-

self that in all probability this admirable captain

had

never

even

considered

the

question of "inward doubts," and far less thought

of overcoming

them.

He

had

most likely been contented to grow up as he had done, into an honest, well regulated human being.

Then

he

stifled a yawn.

H e felt irritated and uncomfortable, and he was just turning over in his mind a set of suitable excuses by which he might safely conclude

his evening visitation, when the

eldest sister suddenly said— " O h , by the way, Herr von Stormeck, during your absence

yesterday we began

to read a new book aloud.

It was written

270

T H E MOTH

by one of our best poets, and it is an excellent and a very work.

It explains

superior

all the

piece

of

exaggerated

ideas of modern times with extreme kindness, and the wish to put things clear and straight.

May we finish the chapter we

had just begun ? " Gunther hastened to mumble some polite reply to

this request, and the captain's

wife began to read aloud.

The father

picked up an agricultural pamphlet and glanced at its pages in secret, letting an occasional expression of "true, true," or "very good," drop from his lips.

The two

other sisters had put their work-baskets in front of them, and were plying their needles diligently.

Gunther

was

bored,

for the "enlightened book" of the "celebrated poet" struck cidedly

him as being a de-

indifferent composition.

to distract his thoughts

Anxious

in any possible

fashion, he began to follow the play of the

THE MOTH

271

needle in his fiancées hand, and he tried to discover what manner of thing it was which she was sewing and shaping with such indomitable energy. looking

object — a

It was a strange

little

bigger

than

a

crown piece, and it appeared to be intended for a queer little cap, with two long strings attached to it. Slowly An

he sank

unconquerable

conviction

rose

choked him.

back and

up

a

in

whole

charmingly

chair. painful

throat

and

In his mind's eye he seemed

forehead.

thing

very

his

to see the same little wrinkled

into his

cap

The

irony of

dawned

upon

thoughtful

this

was ! how experienced !

on a small

how

him. young

the How girl

exquisitely

well prepared for every sort of emergency ! He might indeed congratulate himself upon entering

this well - regulated

and proper

sort of family, where everything seemed pulled by little strings !

Then a set of

272

THE MOTH

sadder reflections got the better of him. How can women go to meet

the most

holy task of their existence in this empty measured

sort of

fashion ?

How

is

it

possible for them to accept it in this coldblooded way as they would any other matterof-fact occurrence ? child

then,

as

a

Do cake

they consider a which

is

easily

stirred, and which simply has to rise if one will only follow the receipt in some wellkept cookery book ?

Have they no concep-

tion of the sort of tortures which go on in the mind of a man, what scruples must be

overcome

within

him, before,

having

reckoned with his conscience, he can take upon

himself

to include

another

human

being in his own fault—a creature made from his life's blood—drawn from the core of his very soul—a creature whose destiny it may, perhaps, be to go on planting secret impulses, be they for good or evil, and to leave them as a further inheritance for mankind ?

THE MOTH

'"Thinking

273

brings sorrow,' and, added

to that, I am in one of my moods to-day," mused Gunther, with the vague hope of persuading himself.

" But all the same, it

is a strange state of affairs. a

regular

Pariah,

accepted

Here I sit, by

a

circle

of intensely self-respecting and respectable people.

The peaceful glow of

falls over

the

neatly parted

white

forehead

hair of a

the lamp and

the

young girl, and

this young girl has stepped from the midst of her excellent and proper surroundings to share my life with me.

In this place

everything breathes a tale of industry, of unquestionable prosperity—even of charity, for I have seen a plate upon the father's writing-table, which is full of coppers and silver coins, and any poor man that chooses to ask is perfectly certain to receive a few of them. see

large

On the tables of the ladies skeins

of

grey

wool,

I

stuck

through with knitting-needles—these skeins s

274

THE MOTH

of wool are going to be turned into so many pairs

of stockings,

which

will

be

divided among the poor children at Christmas time.

For the time being the said

children are running about barefoot in the marshes, and spearing frogs for the gentry. Portraits

of

grandfathers

and

of

grandfathers hang round the walls;

great they

all look exactly like one another; they all have the same self-satisfied, well-fed look upon their countenances, a sort of stamp of legitimacy; all wear the same order in their button-holes; all are alike. " W h e n I look at the portraits of these people, when I watch this quiet circle under the lamplight, I am filled with horror. is it?

Why

Is it simply the storm in the air

which excites my nerves, and makes my very blood boil ? or is there some law, some fatality, which drives me away from the threshold of every natural, commonplace, well-regulated, happy state of exist-

THE MOTH

275

ence ? W h y should this atmosphere of peace and prosperity weigh down upon me like a burden ?

W h y does the very thing which

suits them so well, which guards them like a cloak from all excitement and agitating influences, or even draughts of air—why does this very thing oppress me like a thunder-cloud, in which I absolutely fail to breathe?

Is it some conceit, some sinful

vanity, which fills me with throttling nausea at the sight or touch of mediocrity ?

Am

I unable to forgive it, simply and solely because it has always held it its duty to oppose every great and every unaccountable assault—to contradict and suppress every broad thought and every unselfish action ? Can I not overcome the painful consciousness that it has been the moderate people of this world who have always been the sworn enemies of the Beautiful, of Imagination, of Freedom, and that it is they who after all uphold the broad basis of the world, and

276

THE MOTH

who are the firm and necessary groundwork of humanity?

T h e mighty men of history

stand in their lines, the healthy men, the happy, and the respectable. should we wish

Why, then,

for different aims

than

theirs ? why not enlist in the common ranks of men ? why not combine with them at once ? Am I infected by some moral disease ? Am I abnormal—a sort of monster ? " I cannot tell.

Why, then, did God create

creatures who are forced by their own natures to defy the commonplace unity of mankind, and to stand at variance with its accepted laws ?

Why did H e give me the instinct

to avoid everything small and everything mean ? why did H e add to this the passionate desire to attain to everything which is large and wide, glorious and unattainable ? Why did H e put into my heart the craving for unknown visions of Light—the thirst for the Complete, for the Ideal ? "Mediocrity will say that God created

THE MOTH

277

men like me to serve as a horrible example to the rest of their fellow-men. creatures!

Unhappy

They never even suspect that

a flame exists—a flame which blazes victoriously, and irrepressible above this earth, and above the sordid cares of everyday existence — a flame which mocks

every-

thing which is mean and earthly and destructible.

The flame was lit by the great

wind of the Desire for God!

They cannot

understand that men exist upon this earth who deny the possibility of joy in humdrum life, who freeze in the sunshine of everyday, who feel unhappy in the darkness round them, and who would gladly plunge themselves head foremost—even while their pulses throb with life—plunge themselves into the splendid, living flame of anguish, which is called Love—Love

of the Unending, Love

of Melody, of Transport, of Annihilation, Love, in fact, of God ! " Gunther

started

up

in

terror.

The

278

THE MOTH

peaceful family sat working round him. Their knitting-needles flew along with a rhythmical sort of click; the reader had secretly skipped innumerable pages of her " enlightened " book, and was hurrying as fast as she could towards the end. There sat the young bride with her smoothly parted hair, wide awake as ever, and dragging, as she had dragged before, the everlasting thread between her busy fingers. Then suddenly a huge rare moth shot in through the window with a swift whirring flight of his wings. For a minute he made large shadowy circles on the white plastered ceiling of the room, then he threw himself upon the lamp, striking his great grey head against the shining glass, and thence rebounding once again to seek his inevitable death within the burning flame, driven on, as it seemed, by a sort of exalted obstinacy. The ladies jumped up shrieking, but the big moth

THE MOTH didn't notice them.

279

Unconscious

of

the

general hubbub he continued his fantastic dance of death, and darted down upon the flame

with wild

spiral movements, indif-

ferent wholly to the sheets of

newspaper

and all the skeins of wool which the ladies shook at him, oblivious of all their cries and

curses—his wings torn and tattered,

his body already quivering and crackling in

the

blaze.

But

victoriously and

in

triumph he obtained his desire, and found his way to the very heart of the

flame,

and there he threw himself in head foremost, pressing of

his

the

it

down with the weight

fall, till it

glass — a

pale

flickered red

and sank in

glow, half

smo-

thered. " T a k e care ; for God's sake, take care! " the ladies screamed, but already the elder sister had lifted the

globe of the lamp;

she fished up the charred but palpitating body

with

one

of

her

knitting-needles,

280

T H E MOTH

and threw it down in the middle of the table. " So that's the end of it all! It serves him right! How stupid! How preposterous !" they all screamed at once in angry reproachful voices. And whilst the gentle blonde-haired heads bent down, half angrily, half curiously, above the body of the dead moth, Gunther Stormeck got up from his seat unnoticed. He let the portiere fall behind him in absolute silence, and he went from the room and away from the place, never again to return there.

Printed

by

BALLANTYNE, HANSON &

Edinburgh

and

London

Co.