Elsa at length made out the following:
“Cruel one! I understand all now, I may say for the first time in my life; and you—you yourself, your last letter—oh! that last letter! When men are silent stones will talk; if after five long anxious days the unhoped-for, unexpected meeting with the man she appeared to love, only gives the proud Elsa matter for a humorous description of that very meeting, poor Meta may dare to hope, does hope, and—loves! Yes, she loves—loves him whom you scorn, whom you coldly turn your back upon because the skirts of a princess have touched yours! You will say that this is pity—not love! But are not pity and love twin sisters! Yes, I have suffered with him, I still suffer with him; I see his honest blue eyes swimming with tears, I see those tears falling persistently and slowly down the sunburnt cheeks into the curly beard; but the last tear—the very last—before it vanishes in the clouds of tender melancholy, I will myself wipe away—yes, I! I have made up my mind. Tomorrow morning papa shall have the horses put to—tomorrow evening you will see the face of one who pities you but is determined not to spare you the indignant countenance of his avenger and of your too happy
The second letter was as follows:
“You will not see it! Beloved, adored Elsa, forgive me! now in the depth of night, when all is still, so still that I can hear the blood coursing through my temples, and I start if our Castor barks in the courtyard; if an apple, which I had forgotten, or which I could not reach, rustles through the dry leaves of the tree in front of my window and falls to the ground—they still look wonderful, but are all rotten—now, only when I read your letter for the second time, do I understand it, and perceive the earnest, sorrowful tone that pierces through the hollow ring of your mirth. One word has made all clear to me; one single, deep, heartfelt word, so deep and so heartfelt as can come only from the heart and the pen of my Elsa. You write: ‘He walked up the gallery, the Princess spoke to me very graciously, as was apparent from her smiles and the kind tone of her soft voice; but I confess, to my shame, that her first words were Hebrew to me.’ To your shame?—Elsa—Elsa! to mine, to my deepest, most heartrending shame! Oh, heavens! what does not lie under that one word ‘Hebrew!’ Your grief, your sorrow, your penitence, your love! Well, then, love him! I resign him; I must do so! and my visit to you also. Papa cannot, as it happens, let me have the horses tomorrow, because he must send his fat sheep to Prora, and mamma wants to make plum-jam. Let me weep and sob out my sorrow in solitude and plum-jam, and keep a little love for your too unhappy
“What absurd nonsense!” said Elsa.
But she did not laugh, but said it, on the contrary, very gravely; read the scrawl again very carefully, and only dropped the letters into her pocket when Aunt Sidonie appeared through the door of the room which opened into the garden and came down the steps towards her.
“I must rest a little,” said Sidonie.
“How far have you got?” asked Elsa.
“To an extremely difficult chapter—to the marriage festivities. Malortie leaves me altogether in the dark upon this point. The examples which he gives on page 181 of the second volume, give an immense amount of information, but only of use for the chamberlains at great courts: ‘Marriage of their late Majesties’—à la bonne heure! ‘Programme of the marriage by proxy of his Majesty the King Don Pedro of Portugal and Algarve’—”
“Who did he marry?” asked Elsa.
Sidonie, who was walking by her side with her hands behind her back, stood still in astonishment.
“Child! child! is it possible? You read me that chapter yourself only yesterday evening. I have been lying awake and racking my brains over it all night, and you have forgotten that his Highness’s illustrious bride was the Princess Stephanie of Hohenzollem-Sigmaringen? But the fact is, that you take no interest in my work; you do not, or will not, understand what an immense benefit a really comprehensive complete book on ceremonial, suited to small courts, would be! Well, well, child, I am not angry with you. You have never had much to do with such matters; how should you be expected to understand their importance, though you do now and then suggest very useful ideas on some of the most difficult points! Now imagine this: at the wedding of his late Majesty two Lieutenant-Generals, Herr von Brauchitsch and Herr von Kessel, who stood at the two ends of the table, carved the dishes, gave them to the footmen standing behind them, these to the pages, and from the latter they were received by the lords and gentlemen in waiting. That is all very well, but how are two Lieutenant-Generals to be found at a small court such as ours was?”
“Then take two Lieutenants,” said Elsa.
“Capital!” said Sidonie. “That—no, that will not not do! What would become of precedence if I began with Lieutenants? But you are not listening.”
“Indeed I am, aunt. I was only thinking that this very evening we shall have two Lieutenant-Generals here, and that I should much prefer a few Lieutenants. We really have too few dancing men.”
“Ottomar can bring some of his brother officers; besides, there are not so very few. There is Count Golm, who told me he was passionately fond of dancing; there is Tettritz, there is Schönau—he says he has given up dancing, but that cannot be allowed in a Second Captain. There is—”
Her aunt named half a dozen names, but
