The Romance of the Canoness. Paul HeyseЧитать онлайн книгу.
no trace of him.
It was now quite time for me to return to the hotel, where my carriage must already be waiting. I consoled myself by the belief that the postmaster would undoubtedly be fully informed about the Canoness. The pale, still face, with the silvery halo around the head, in the mysterious twilight, still hovered before me, and I quickened my pace to obtain a solution of the mystery.
The path I took through the grain-fields, along whose edges grew small cherry-trees, did not lead me back to the city-gate, but to a different part of the wall, which I found entirely deserted. There was not a single baby-carriage, nor a pedestrian resting on any of the benches. Yet it was pleasant to saunter along in the shade, and I lapsed into a comfortable, dreamy state, which is really the greatest advantage of travel, because we shake off our daily dull routine of occupation, and, in some strange manner, feel as if we had just dropped from the moon and were strangers in this world, to whom the most trivial thing appears new and wonderful.
Suddenly I stopped. Sitting on the next bench, in front of me, I saw the man in the black coat whom I had just vainly sought. He was evidently so much absorbed in his own thoughts that he did not hear me, but sat gazing out over the open country and the waters of the lake, or rather at the little chapel and the small portion of the almshouse cemetery visible from this point. I could now obtain a near view of his delicate, regular features, and was particularly struck by the beautiful arch of the brow, and the character expressed in the nose, which was by no means small. His hat lay on the bench at his side, and his clasped hands rested on his knee.
He now perceived me, but remained perfectly motionless, as if he could thereby render himself invisible and induce me to pass on.
But I was not disposed to let the favorable chance slip.
"Allow me to sit with you a moment, sir," I said. "I am passing through here on a journey, and am somewhat fatigued by rambling about. I must set out again in fifteen minutes, much as I regret not becoming more familiar with the pretty town. A walk on the walls like this can not be easily found, far or near."
He made no reply, merely bent his head slightly and took up his hat to give me the other half of the bench. I sat down, and we remained silent for a time.
"Pardon me," I said at last, "if I seem intrusive, and perhaps disturb you in a mood in which one prefers to be entirely alone. But I was a witness of the funeral that has just taken place, and, as the image of the lifeless form I saw just before in the coffin has haunted me ever since, and I fancied I read a remarkable destiny on the noble brow, you can probably understand that I am reluctant to leave here without learning some particulars of her fate. One of the old women in the almshouse below gave me some information which, though very vague and insufficient, only increased my interest. You seem to have been on more intimate terms with this universally respected woman. If you would see a better motive in my question than idle curiosity, I should be very grateful to you for any details of her life you might be willing to give."
I saw a faint flush mount into his face. He gazed steadily into vacancy for a while, as if irresolute what to answer. Suddenly he seized his hat, rose, and, bowing to me, said:
"Pardon me, sir--I have--my time will not permit--I wish you a pleasant journey."
Then he turned and walked away with long, but not hurried steps, while I remained on the bench in a mood of painful discomfiture.
At first I was uncertain whether I had done wrong, or merely applied to the wrong person. But I soon distinctly perceived that the fault was mine. This resident of the provinces, on whose deep grief I had intruded with a bold question, as if he must consider it an honor to afford a traveler information about anything worthy of note, even if it concerned his most sacred private feelings, had given me a well-merited lesson. How indelicate to put the question point-blank, without any introduction, like a police-officer inspecting a passport, and, ere the tears were fairly dry on his lashes, request from him an obituary of the dead woman, such as a newspaper reporter would unfeelingly insert in a daily journal. Perhaps, had I been more considerate of his feelings, cautiously gained his confidence without revealing my object--! But, as it was, I ought not to complain of having received a refusal, whose manner showed that I had addressed a cultivated man.
At last, very much displeased with myself, I rose and tried to reach my hotel by the shortest cut. Even the desire to question the postmaster had deserted me. I would gladly have driven the Canoness--who was now associated with a humiliating remembrance--entirely out of my mind, and, in fact, at that time I was to learn nothing more about her. My light carriage stood waiting in front of the house, but the landlord had been suddenly called away on some business; so I remained no longer than to drink a little wine and seltzer-water, for my tongue was parched, and then urged the driver to hurry that I might reach my destination before night.
Even at my friend's house I did not mention my experiences in St. ----. As he had only lived in the neighborhood a short time, and was completely engrossed by his immediate duties and occupations, he had scarcely had an opportunity to become familiar with the local history of the place. Only it chanced to be mentioned that the dismantled coasting-steamer had belonged to a bankrupt firm and been taken by one of the creditors, who had hoped to sell it again for the value of the material. As it did not immediately find a purchaser, he had had the worn-out invalid brought to the inland lake, where it was now enjoying rest from its labors.
I spent a few refreshing days in my friend's pretty house, which unfortunately was situated in a most prosaic neighborhood, and when I returned to Berlin the memory of the hour in the cemetery had already become considerably fainter.
But, like every reminder of our weaknesses and follies, it never wholly vanished. So no one will marvel that I was most agreeably surprised when, a year afterward, I received by mail a heavy parcel, accompanied by the following lines:
MOST HONORED SIR: Unfortunately, I am not so happy as to be able to present myself as a total stranger. For I must commence my letter by apologizing for an offense committed more than a year ago, when I had the honor of making your acquaintance, if this word can be applied to a meeting in which both persons remained wholly unknown to each other.
True, I am ignorant whether you have retained any recollection of the uncourteous person who had no other reply to a friendly question than to quit you so abruptly. You are living in the current of the world, which washes away so many trivial things, and effaces old impressions with a thousand new ones. An inhabitant of the provinces, of my temperament, has nothing to interrupt him in the unpleasant task of thrusting still deeper into his flesh, in the endeavor to withdraw them, the thorns implanted by a fleeting moment.
Directly after leaving you I had, it is true, no other unpleasant feeling than that a total stranger had disturbed me amid the indulgence of a fresh sorrow. But at the end of an hour, when I recalled your words and tones, and the gestures accompanying them, I was seized with shame for my boorish conduct. You had been present at the funeral, had even gazed with deep interest at the face of the dead: what was more natural than that you should marvel how that queenly head could rest on the hard pillow of an almshouse coffin, though the mourning of a whole city followed it? And how could you suspect that the man to whom you applied for information suffered most keenly from the universal loss, and at that hour had so bitter a taste of the earth-mold on his tongue that he could not have uttered a word, had his own brother accosted him?
When I clearly perceived this, and had partly regained my calmness, I hurried to the hotel, firmly intending to apologize for my incivility and tell you at least enough to have enabled you to understand my sorrowful obduracy. You had already continued your journey. I only found your name in the landlord's book, and doubly regretted my unseemly conduct. I was familiar with some of your books, and said to myself that you, of all men, could not have spoken from mere empty curiosity, but from genuine interest in everything relating to human nature, and you, if any one, would have been capable of feeling with me that the death of such a woman is a loss to the whole world.
What had happened could not be altered, but, to somewhat alleviate the discomfort of my regrets, I began the very next day to write down, for my justification and penance, everything I had left unsaid, intending to lay it before you and thereby obtain absolution