He put out the candles, which had nearly burnt down to their sockets; sank into the great armchair which stood before the fire, stared for a few moments at the embers which here and there shone amongst the ashes with a feeble and ever feebler glow, and then fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
XII
It was long, very long, before Elsa could sleep. As soon as she closed her eyes the bed changed to a ship that rocked up and down in the waves, and when she raised her weary eyelids more and more wonderful shadows flitted between the heavy folds of the curtains in the dim light of her night-lamp. The events of the day passed through her mind in the most varied form and in the utmost confusion. She was sitting by the sickbed of the children in the close farmhouse room; but near her sat, not the farmer’s wife, but Meta, who had let her loosened hair fall over her face, and told her with sobs how ashamed she was of being in love with a merchant captain whom she had never seen before. And then, again, it was the farmer’s wife who sat upon the side of her bed and begged her to forget what she had said about the Count, who had sent for the doctor the moment she asked him, and who was certainly a kind gentleman in his own way, although he did not care about children and poor people, and looked sometimes so proud, and would be very angry if he knew that she always kept the little compass concealed in her pocket, which she must return to its owner tomorrow, for she had promised it by her friendship.
That must have been the last flickering thread of the half-waking thoughts with which her dreams now played the most grotesquely painful tricks. Through narrow passages on board ship, and magnificent saloons, through dark forests, over foaming waves, now in a rocking boat, now in a shaking carriage, then again running hastily across the sandhills, where the ground at every step gave way under her eager feet, as she vainly endeavoured to hold by the waving grasses—always and everywhere she hastened after the Captain, to whom she must speak, she knew not why, to whom she must give something, she knew not what; she only knew that her happiness depended upon her speaking to him, upon her giving this thing to him. But she could not find him, and when she was certain that he was only hidden behind a curtain, behind which she could even see his figure, and called to him to come forward—she knew very well that he was there, and at last wanted, laughingly, to lift the curtain—someone always held her back, sometimes her father shaking his head with displeasure, then the President, who put up his eyeglass and assured her that he could see through the thickest curtains, but there was nobody there. It was not a red silk curtain either, but thick dark smoke, which only shone so red from the blood which had been shed behind it; but that blood was the lifeblood of the Captain, who had just fallen in the battle of Gravelotte, . She could do nothing to help him now.
“But I must see him again. He gave me his heart; I have it in my pocket, and it is always quivering and wanting to get back to him. I cannot give it back to him, but I will give him my own instead, and then his will be at rest again.”
“If that is the case,” said the President, “just put your heart here upon his tombstone.”
And he drew back the red smoke as if it had been a curtain. There she saw a great iron cross, flooded with bright morning light; and at the foot of the cross, on the green turf, sat he whom she sought, in dress-coat and fisherman’s boots, and by his side Meta von Strummin; and they had a casket in their hands, in which lay a heart. She could not see it, but she knew that it was a heart.
“You must not give that away,” said she.
“Why not?” cried Meta. “I can give away my heart as often as I please, you know; I have given it away twenty times already.”
“But that is my heart—my heart!”
Meta would not give her the heart, and then she grew so anxious and fearful. She caught Meta’s hands, and struggled with her.
“Do wake up!” said Meta. “You are sighing and groaning so that you quite woke me.”
“I thought the cross was red!” said Elsa.
“You are dreaming still. That is the shadow of the window frame; I have drawn back the curtains to let in the light. The sun must rise soon, the sky is quite red now. It looks beautiful! Do just sit up, and that will rouse you altogether.”
Elsa sat up. The whole room was filled with a red glow.
“What have you been dreaming about?” asked Meta.
“I do not know,” said Elsa.
“How pretty you are,” said Meta; “much prettier even than you were yesterday evening. Did your dream give you such rosy cheeks, or is it the morning glow!”
“The morning glow,” said Elsa. “How I should like to see the sun rise! I have never yet seen it.”
“No!” cried Meta, clasping her hands together; “never yet seen the sun rise! Is it possible! Oh, you town people! Come! it never rises more beautifully than here at Golmberg, but we must make haste. I am half-dressed already. I will come and help you directly.”
Meta came back in a few minutes and began to help Elsa to dress.
“I was born to be a lady’s-maid,” said she. “Will you have me? I will dress and undress you all day long, and be as faithful as a lapdog to you; for one’s heart must cling to something, you
