diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69539-0.txt | 5339 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69539-0.zip | bin | 115396 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69539-h.zip | bin | 375900 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69539-h/69539-h.htm | 6069 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69539-h/images/alide_frontispiece.jpg | bin | 67248 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69539-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 205712 -> 0 bytes |
9 files changed, 17 insertions, 11408 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..96fdb7f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69539 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69539) diff --git a/old/69539-0.txt b/old/69539-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8bfc858..0000000 --- a/old/69539-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5339 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Alide, by Emma Lazarus - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Alide - an episode of Goethe's life. - -Author: Emma Lazarus - -Release Date: December 14, 2022 [eBook #69539] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Laura Natal Rodrigues (Images generously made available by - Hathi Trust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALIDE *** - - - - ALIDE - - - AN EPISODE OF GOETHE'S LIFE. - - - - - BY - - EMMA LAZARUS, - - AUTHOR OF "ADMETUS, AND OTHER POEMS," ETC. - - - - - PHILADELPHIA: - - J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. - - - -Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by -J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., -In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. - - - - -TO MY FRIEND, -MRS. HOOPER, -THIS STORY -IS AFFECTIONATELY AND GRATEFULLY -INSCRIBED. - - - - -PREFACE - - -It seems hardly necessary, but it may prevent misunderstanding, to state -that I have incorporated in the ensuing pages whole passages from the -autobiography of Goethe. Wherever it has been possible, he has been -allowed to speak for himself, and thus no imagination has been exercised -in the portrayal of his character. "Alide Duroc," on the contrary, is a -purely imaginary creation, though her story is that of Frederika Brion. - - - THE AUTHOR. - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER I -Dr. Julius Steck - -CHAPTER II -The Parsonage - -CHAPTER III -Alide - -CHAPTER IV -A Moonlight Walk - -CHAPTER V -Goethe - -CHAPTER VI -First Love - -CHAPTER VII -In Strasburg - -CHAPTER VIII -Happiness - -CHAPTER IX -After-thoughts - -CHAPTER X -Quite Pleasures - -CHAPTER XI -In the Shadow of the Cathedral - -CHAPTER XII -Hamlet - -CHAPTER XIII -The Clouds gather - -CHAPTER XIV -A Strange Interview - -CHAPTER XV -Drifting Apart - -CHAPTER XVI -Parting - -CHAPTER XVII -Freedom - -CHAPTER XVIII -Letters - -Epilogue - - - - -ALIDE - - - - -CHAPTER I - -DR. JULIUS STECK - - -"If it were not that I must play true to my clerical gown, Max, I could -for very delight in the glory of this October afternoon caper one of my -lately-learned waltzes on the roadside. Gods! what a gift life is on -such a day as this! Do, you not feel this mountain air tingling like -wine through your veins? My blood is all aglow within me--my heart is as -light as flame." It was a rich, vibrant, sonorous voice, and yet it had -a boyish ring of merriment that seemed in no wise to belong to the -soberly-clad student who walked demurely by his companion's side through -the quiet, shining meadows. - -"Julius Steck!" exclaimed his comrade, who spoke with a lazy, -good-humored drawl, "for the love of sport remember who and what you -are. A learned young bachelor of divinity to begin by invoking the -heathen gods,--to yearn after a waltz in the open fields, and a heart -like flame, forsooth! a pretty thing to carry into a country parsonage -to kindle a conflagration among the lasses!" - -"Nay, Max," returned the other, "I will be grave enough when occasion -requires. How could I so soon forget my last and dearest sweetheart -behind us in the city,--the Minster of Strasburg? Is not this the first -bright afternoon since early June that we two have not mounted at sunset -to that spacious platform high above the dusky streets, and quaffed our -Rhenish to the dying day? And you fancy that I will throw away a heart -devoted to the loyal service of my Lady of the Cathedral on the first -pair of apple-colored cheeks and china-blue eyes that we meet on the -wayside? Besides," he added, with a sudden mock gravity, "do I look like -a fellow to captivate a pretty damsel?" And he doffed his broad-brimmed -clerical hat and looked full and squarely at Max. - -Was the lad a consummate actor who could, assume at will whatever -countenance he desired, or was this expression of sheepish pedantry -natural to the possessor of that resonant voice? It must have been -clever pantomime, for as Max saw it he burst into uncontrollable -laughter, that resounded with jolly echoes through the responsive air. -The outline of the face from brow to throat was delicate and strong as -that of a young Greek god, and yet a ludicrous and almost homely effect -was given by the sleek brown locks combed smoothly back from the temples -and turned behind the ears, by the thickly-framed gold spectacles which -obstructed any gleam from the dark eyes behind them, and, above all, by -this prim look of mingled shrewdness and timidity. He was taller than -his companion, but the proportions of his figure were concealed by the -long black gown, which formed the principal part of his costume as a -theological student. - -"Capital, capital, Dr. Steck!" exclaimed Max, clapping his hand on the -young bachelor's shoulder. "But make haste and cover your head, for in a -few moments we shall be in sight of the parsonage. And yet I can hardly -say whether you are best with or without that hideous plate of a hat. At -any rate, I am not responsible for whatever happens while you are in my -charge. I warn you beforehand that the girls are pretty and engaging, -and as for them, if they can listen to--yes, or look with patience -on--such an infernal Jesuitical milksop, I will wash my hands of them -all." - -They walked on for a few minutes in silence, Max with his hand still -resting affectionately on Steck's shoulder, and Steck with his head -upraised, eagerly inhaling the honeyed air of the harvest-fields, and, -with the eyes of an artist rather than of a boy just turned twenty, -gazing at the green and purple masses and sun-bathed outlines of the -peaks that stood out against the pale gold sky. There was just enough -breeze to make a continuous rustle and murmur in the glistening leaves -overhead, and to send long-rolling ripples and waves of motion over the -grass of the wide-lying meadows. A clear bird-carol now and then, the -incessant all-pervading drone of the crickets, at intervals the merry -laughter of voices in a far-away meadow, prolonged by the myriad echoes -of the neighborhood,--these sweet out-door sounds were all that broke -upon the ears of the two young men; and the gentleness, the peace, the -unspeakable beauty of the October landscape seemed to gain upon them, -and to overpower with quieting suggestions even the exuberant buoyancy -of spirits natural to their age. - -Max Waldstein was a genial, open-hearted fellow of two or three and -twenty. A square, somewhat receding brow, wide blue eyes, a -highly-colored complexion, a round, fair, curly head, set off with -coarse and prominent ears, a large mouth, adorned with healthy white -teeth, a thick, well-shaped nose, and a projecting jaw, overgrown with a -reddish-yellow beard,--all these formed an excellent index to the mind -and character of the young law-student, who had attached himself almost -as to a girl to the magnetic, myriad-sided nature of his fellow-lodger, -the boy-artist. New and unaccountable to plain Max were the mercurial -moods, the exaltations and despondencies, the irrepressible, child-like -delight occasioned by such simple things as a burst of sunlight on a -cloudy day, the sudden, unexpected song of a bird, a glimpse of a fair -woman-face, a rhyme of some old poet, a shade of color on some faded -canvas, or, above all, the outlines and structure of Strasburg -Cathedral. But Waldstein made no attempt to follow or fathom the -caprices of his imaginative friend. Like many others in that grave old -minster-shadowed city, he was led out of himself into an enthusiasm of -admiration and affection for the brilliant, beautiful young favorite of -the gods, who, bringing all the gifts, had burst upon Strasburg and -taken up his abode there early in the preceding spring. Numberless were -the holiday excursions planned by these two youthful heads and enjoyed -with a wide circle of boon companions, the spice of such amusements -being not unfrequently heightened by an escapade somewhat wilder than -usual, an adventure of more than ordinary daring, on the part of the -younger of the two. Max's only gift, a shrewd, practical sense, enabled -him readily to discern the qualities of those around him, and a loyal, -generous nature, unspoiled by affectation or envy, brought him into -sympathy with men of far higher capacities than his own. With whimsical -self-depreciation, he was forever wishing to display the endless talents -and attractions of his comrade, who must be brought forth into the light -at all costs, forgiven any mad prank, and allowed to follow his pleasure -as he chose, in consideration of the halo about his head and the -tenderness of his heart. "Let us make the most of the lad while he is -with us," Waldstein would say; "such a youth is not for our little -Strasburg circle of good fellows. What can he not do? What does he not -adorn in touching? It rests but with himself to be the painter, the -poet, the tragedian, the statesman--what do I know?--the genius of the -age. Come, comrades, let us up to his room now, and drag him from his -jurisprudence, and make a day of it on the river." - -We all know that in later years neither the sweetest allurements nor the -sharpest trials could swerve this royal nature from its chosen path of -serenity and wisdom. But at this early period, with the fulness of so -rich a life seething in his veins, in the first fresh wonder and -delight, with every wreath of honor awaiting apparently but the reach of -his outstretched hand to claim and bind it about his brow, who shall say -that the intoxication did not mount to his exalted brain, engendering a -boyish vanity and self-consciousness, sending through his frame an -occasional thrill of not ignoble pride in the very wealth of his own -personality? - -For many weeks Waldstein had been trying to prevail upon his friend to -accompany him to the parsonage, some six leagues beyond Strasburg, where -he was wont to spend much of his leisure time, invariably descanting -after his visit upon the hospitality of Pastor Duroc and his wife and -the beauty of the country surrounding their home, and occasionally -letting slip a significant allusion to the charms of the elder daughter, -Rahel. But the boy had always an excuse for declining: he must go study -the Cathedral, and work out the unexecuted conception of the architect's -brain in leaving incomplete that bold and aerial spire; he must prepare -himself for the approaching examination, and devote himself more -assiduously to his ponderous volumes of jurisprudence, for which he had -originally come to Strasburg; or now was the moment to saunter down to -the river-side and add a few strokes to his sketch of the city at -sunset. Finally, when Max had ceased to press the point, the capricious -lad one morning proposed the visit himself. His delicate fancy had been -aroused the previous evening by an exquisite prose idyl which he had -read before he slept. It was a translation recently made of a story of -English clerical life. The homely pathos, the quaint simplicity, the -pleasing variety of natural incidents that enlivened the sprightly flow -of the narrative, the healthy atmosphere that breathed of trim, inland, -hawthorn-hedged meadows, all these wrought upon his lightly-moved spirit -and gave him the desire to transport himself to kindred scenes. Early in -the morning he burst into Waldstein's room with the "Vicar of Wakefield" -in his hand. - -"Read it at once!" he exclaimed; "there is art, there is nature! How -many of our dreary German treatises cannot this little book outweigh -with its searching insight, its naïf truthfulness! Here is a page of -life that I have never studied,--never known. While I have been musing -in the grim shadow of the Minster, and trying to animate the iron-handed -heroes of a mediæval age, what have I overlooked! The smiling fields, -the endless minutiæ of a thousand happy homes, the passions, the joys, -the troubles, that surround me on every side. Max, dear Max, may I go -with you to the Durocs'?" - -Waldstein could scarcely refrain from smiling at the wistful tone in -which the question was asked. It was like the lad to crave that as a -grace which it was but a pleasure to confer. He had as many coaxing, -affectionate tricks of voice and manner as a woman. Max assented with -delight, and named that very day for the excursion. And now his comrade, -full of odd freaks, begged to be allowed to go, not as the wild -boy-artist of Strasburg, but as a serious student of these pious, -pastoral lives. Thus was the harmless incognito contrived, and thus it -was that Max was escorting his friend, disguised as a theological -scholar and bearing the name of Dr. Julius Steck, to the home of the -Durocs. - -Steck was the first to interrupt the sweet quietness which was not -silence. "How beautifully clear is this little mountain-brook alongside -of us!" he said. "See, it has followed us all the way from the -Drusenheim inn." - -"I should rather say," answered Waldstein, "that we have followed it; -and in truth it is the surest guide for us: as we keep along this path, -bearing its channel always in sight, the first bend in its course will -bring us in view of our goal." - -A few paces more led them to the curve, and then only a single narrow -field lay between them and the parsonage. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE PARSONAGE - - -It looked more like an ancient farm-house than the home of the parish -priest, and was separated by a considerable distance from the village -church, whose humble spire and glittering vane peered above the -clustered trees beyond. It seemed a very antique and weather-stained -homestead, but wore rather the quaint picturesqueness that just precedes -decay, than the actual dilapidation of ruin itself. It would have been -hard to tell with what color it had originally been decorated, for it -was now sunburned and rain-washed into a streaky, sombre gray, to which -this gorgeous October light gave a certain mellow warmth of its own; and -the walls were so covered with the glossy leaves of the ivy, the porch -was so overgrown with the interlocked stems of the honeysuckle, that -comparatively little of the dwelling itself was left bare. In front was -a small, carefully-tended garden, where the autumn roses were glowing; -but nearly all the adjacent grounds were devoted to what would have -seemed the interests of a goodly farm; the gray old orchard rich with -red and yellow globes twinkling among the branches or lying half buried -in the soft turf below; the vine-trellises beyond, with their large, -dusky leaves, bearing their splendid blue and golden-green fruitage -freely in the open air; and on the other side of the house, the thriving -kitchen-garden with its stripes of varied verdure,--all prosperously -basking in the radiant sunshine of harvest-tide. Some of the windows -were thrown open for the air and light to play through the dwelling; -from one of them a white curtain, detached from its fastenings, was -blowing. A perky little hen, with her brood close after her, was -strutting along the garden-lane and pecking near the walls of the manse, -but no other living creature seemed to be stirring about the premises. - -"A queer, quiet old place it is," said Steck, taking in all the details -at a glance. - -"Yes," said Waldstein, dryly; "it is younger inside." - -The gate was open, and they walked noiselessly through, frightening the -hen and her young ones into a brisk trot towards the barnyard. They had -almost reached the doorway before they saw, half reclining on a long -wooden bench in the porch, the portly figure of the pastor, his face -concealed by a large volume held up before his eyes. - -"Good-evening, Father Duroc," cried Max. - -Their host started, let fall his book from before him, and disclosed a -jovial, weak, handsome face, but little marked by age, whose thick dark -eyebrows and rosy coloring contrasted strikingly with the pure white of -his unpowdered hair. - -"I have taken you by surprise this time," said Waldstein, "and have -brought my friend, Dr. Julius Steck, of Frankfort. He is a serious -fellow, young as he looks; one after your own heart, an indefatigable -student, who wishes thoroughly to examine our parochial customs before -he enters upon his active duties." - -"Welcome! welcome both!" said the pastor, heartily, giving each a hand. -"Any friend of yours, Waldstein, has, you know, a double welcome, and -Dr. Steck could not have found a better place to complete his studies -than the oldest parsonage in Alsace, though the vicar says it himself." - -"I shall be proud to put myself under your guidance," said Steck, with -becoming modesty. "Your well-known research, your profound----" - -"Tut! tut!" interrupted the pleased pastor. "I have but looked into such -scant volumes as strayed across my path. But an apt and ardent scholar -is my delight, and such a one is a rarity in these superficial days. Ah, -Waldstein, your eyes are wandering after the lasses, I'll be bound. They -have strolled off with the Mütterchen toward the brook-side to enjoy -this bright afternoon. But we can have a good hour's chat in the library -before they return." - -"We heard their laughter as we came along from Drusenheim," said -Waldstein. "If Otto be not with them, why could not I? Might they not be -pleased----" - -"I see your drift," exclaimed the pastor. "Well, be off to the meadows, -young gallant, and bring them safely home; they will all be glad to see -thee. Meantime, this serious youth and I will discuss our graver -matters." - -Max, with a roguish glance at Steck, ran off like a dismissed schoolboy -down the slope behind the house, and was almost immediately out of sight -in the dip of the valley below. Steck, however, with his head full of -the "Vicar of Wakefield," and possessing in the highest degree the -artist's capacity to invest with interest the most commonplace of -characters, was delighted at the prospect of a conversation with the Dr. -Primrose of Sesenheim. - -"I do not wonder, sir," he began, "that you have brought your literature -to so attractive a seat. I, too, often make my studies in the open air; -not that my eyes will wander from my beloved manuscript, but I fancy -that the mind has there a larger scope, a clearer perception, a stronger -energy of retention." - -"Surely, surely," assented the pastor. "I am fully of your opinion, Dr. -Steck. So, since it pleases you, we will take our seats here in the -porch. At this genial season, the hospitality of my home extends far -beyond the shelter of my roof-tree, over all these shining acres." And -he waved his hand with a natural pride towards the smiling landscape. - -"You are perhaps surprised," he went on, garrulously, "to find me so -miserably quartered in a wealthy village and with a lucrative benefice. -Long since, it has been promised me by the parish, and even by those in -higher places, that the house shall be rebuilt; many plans have been -already drawn, examined, and altered,--none of them altogether rejected, -and none carried into execution. This has lasted so long that I scarcely -know how to control my impatience." - -"Perhaps," suggested Steck, "if you were to display a little impatience, -you might sooner succeed in forcing them to pursue the affair more -vigorously." - -"Ah!" sighed the pastor, with an air of discouragement, "you do not know -with what people I have to deal. The duke is away the better part of the -year, hunting, traveling, killing time as he best may. Herr Klug, the -former intendant, was anxious enough to promote the welfare of the -parish. Indeed, it was he who proposed the renovation of the manse; then -were the plans drawn and deliberated upon; but before we could come to -any decision he was removed, to make way for a French successor, M. -Guédin. 'Well, Käthchen,' said I to Mother Duroc, 'we can congratulate -ourselves now,--we shall soon have a spruce new parsonage when this -active young fellow takes the lead.' 'Wait to whistle till you are out -of the wood, Moritz,' said the prudent mother, and she was right. It was -only the last new idea that M. Guédin could seize with any interest. -When he saw the many difficulties to be overcome, and heard of the many -tastes to be consulted, it was too much for the Gallic genius, and he -has long betaken himself to more congenial occupations." - -"But your people," interposed Steck, highly amused at the old man's -naïf confidence, "why should not they co-operate to secure their pastor -a more comfortable home? Though for my part, sir, the beauty of this -picturesque old farmstead, the thoroughly German character of its -construction, please me so much that I should be loth to hear of a -change." - -"Ay, lad," returned the pastor, "it is well for you, who come and take a -glance at the outside, to fall into ecstasies over the woodbine on the -porch, the moss on the tiles, the wee diamonds set in the heavy gables -that form our windows. But it is an inconvenient picturesqueness for the -pastor, where a few stout beams of oak, some moderate-sized panes of -glass, and a couple of serviceable chimneys might remedy all. But come -in with me, and examine for yourself how we fare." - -With these words he rose and led Steck into the house. They passed -through a commodious hall, furnished like a room with rugs and seats, -into the library, where the late sunshine was streaming. Steck was so -delighted with the quaint wooden bookcases, the high mantel-shelf with -its painted tiles, and the tokens on every side of the habitual presence -of youth and womankind,--the flowers in the windows, the festoons of -fresh ivy between the prettily-designed landscapes, the open -harpsichord, with the last song still upon it, the charming disorder of -the tables, scattered with books, writing-materials, sketching-crayons, -and embroidery,--that he did not care to note that the deep-ledged -windows were indeed somewhat out of date, the ceilings stained and -smoked, and the furniture worn and shabby. - -"I cannot help it, sir," he said, turning to the pastor with a -deprecating smile, "but I think it all charming. And what a glorious -outlook from this westward window!" - -"Yes, yes," answered the pastor, a little testily, "the outlook is good -enough; it is as fair a site as any in Alsace." And all his good humor -returned as he leaned with his guest over the broad sill and looked out -at the rich spread of vineyard, stream, and meadow, terminated by the -gorgeous boundary of the Vosges, with their aerial outlines and -indescribable luxuriance of tint glowing in the last rays of the -sunsetting. - -"Here be our saunterers coming along the road," said he, shading his -eyes with his hand. "But where could they have left Alide?" - -Steck looked at the figures advancing through the fields, and recognized -Waldstein foremost, in apparently earnest colloquy with his companion, -a tall, slender woman attired in sober colors. In his mind he -immediately named her the charming Rahel, and could scarcely repress a -smile at the staid, demure character of the attractions that had -captivated his friend's fancy. A few paces behind them hastened a -younger figure, with bright-colored ribbons flying and white skirt -gleaming between the bushes and tree-trunks as she came along. She had -loitered to gather some field-flowers; and as she almost ran forward to -rejoin her companions, she seemed in Steck's eyes a very Ruth, with her -blue and red blossoms in her hand, and her wide straw hat dangling from -her head and encircling like an aureole the dark-brown locks. - -"There she is, sir," said Steck, who thought the pastor must have failed -to see this young girl, lingering purposely, as he was pleased to -imagine, behind the sweethearts. - -"No," said Dr. Duroc, "that is Rahel." Then with a sudden burst of -laughter, clapping Steck upon the shoulder, he exclaimed, "I see your -mistake! It will make a gallant compliment for Käthchen when she comes -in. It is not the first time the mother has been said to look as young -as her daughters." Before Steck had time to reply, the couple entered -the room. - -"Here is a young fellow, Kitty," said the blunt pastor, "who has -mistaken you for your own child. Madame Duroc, Dr. Julius Steck." - -"I am glad to see you, sir," said madame, shaking his hand cordially. - -In spite of her slight figure, he could see now that the beauty of her -intelligent countenance was indeed somewhat faded. She scrutinized him -narrowly with a woman's alert intuition, very different from the -unsuspecting confidence of the pastor; but, turning to her husband, she -went on, kindly, "You always have your jest, Moritz; but you will make -the young gentleman blush if you expose so freely his mistakes. Has -Alide come home yet?" - -"No," answered the pastor, with surprise; "I thought she was with you." - -"So she was, but she left us a good half-hour since with Goetz." - -"In that case she has not returned," said Dr. Duroc, "for I have been -sitting with Dr. Steck in the porch, and we could not have missed seeing -her." - -"In the porch!" cried Madame Duroc, "and Dr. Steck has had nothing to -refresh himself after his long walk from the inn!" - -"That is the way with her, boys," said the simple pastor, as she left -them, "always thoughtful for others." - -At this moment Rahel burst rather noisily into the room, bringing the -sweet fragrance of the fields along with her. - -"Where is Alide?" she asked, without noticing the stranger. - -"Rahel," said the pastor, in a tone of reproof, "here is a visitor, Dr. -Steck; that is hardly the way to greet him." - -"I beg your pardon, papa," said the young girl, with heightened color, -"and yours too, sir, whom I am happy to welcome," extending her hand -with almost as little embarrassment and as much cordiality as her -mother. "But, papa, I am uneasy about Alide; she should have been home -long ago. I must go seek her." And she hastened away. - -"We are all rather foolish about our Alide," said the pastor, -apologetically; "she is the youngest of us,--but I have no fear for her. -You will soon see them all, Dr. Steck, and I am particularly anxious for -you to know my boy Otto; he is a lad of much promise, though a trifle -reserved, and if he can but select such companions as yourself and -Waldstein, I shall rest content." - -"I shall be proud to know them all," said Steck, with sincerity, "for I -do not remember when before I have been so happy in a family circle." -And his eyes wandered to the door in search of the youngest daughter, -whose prolonged absence created such a stir in the household, and -occasioned an agreeable flutter of expectation in his own breast. - -As he looked, the door was slowly opened, and Madame Duroc re-entered, -bearing a tray with a flask of home-made wine, a china basket filled -with the fruits of their orchard and vineyard, and a dish of her own -sweet-cakes. Waldstein, who was quite at home in the family, cleared one -of the tables and helped Madame Duroc to set the plates and glasses, and -they all placed themselves around it. - -"Kitty is proud of her Rheinwein," said the pastor, as he filled Steck's -goblet, "and the surest way to her heart is to show your appreciation of -it." And he clinked his own glass against Steck's and raised it to his -lips. - -"That she may well be," responded the youth, as he quaffed a long -draught. "It is a most delicious vintage." - -"You know," said Madame Duroc, with assumed modesty, "the parson's wine -is always supposed to have a peculiar flavor." - -"Never mind, Käthchen," said the pastor; "we will hold our own opinion -still. The last time you tasted it, Max, was the evening young Vogel was -here paying his court to Rahel. It seemed rather bitter in your mouth -then, eh, Waldstein?" - -"It not the wine, sir," answered honest Max, with a girl's blush -overspreading his face. Just then Rahel herself returned. - -"I cannot imagine what has become of Alide!" she cried. "I have been -half-way across the meadow without catching a glimpse of her. None of -the servants have seen her, and I have been waiting at the porch ever -since. It is really provoking, for I suppose she will come in soon with -some ridiculous excuse for having made us all so uneasy." - -"Is Goetz with her?" asked the mother, rising and looking anxiously from -the window. - -"Yes," replied Rahel, "or I should be really worried instead of vexed." - -"It is indeed provoking!" said Madame Duroc, nervously. "I cannot -understand where the child has gone. She seems to be always either -loitering behind us or running out of sight ahead. I shall forbid her to -leave us at this hour again; she is far too wild and fearless for her -years. She seems to forget she is no longer a child." - -"Let her alone," said the father, with great composure; "she has already -come back." - -All eyes were turned to where he pointed as he spoke, and there, under -the low doorway, with the soft light from the western window falling -full upon her face, stood Alide. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -ALIDE - - -She did not look over sixteen, but it was maidenhood, not childhood, -that glanced forth from the gray-blue eyes and sent a rosy flush -rippling over the sweet, wistful face as she heard herself so freely -criticised before the two young men. Her neck seemed almost too delicate -for the large fair braids on her elegant little head. They were twisted -loosely like a crown above her brow, and again looped in long thick -plaits around either ear. These, indeed, formed her chief beauty, in -color no less than in luxuriance and texture, for they had not the -lustreless, flaxen hue most frequent in Germany, but a warm, glossy -gold, nearer auburn than yellow. It was the indescribable radiance -caused by the perfect blending of the divine tints of gold and pink and -white, added to the brightness of the large eyes, which made her the -lovely vision that she seemed at this moment to Steck; for her features -were more irregular than those of either her mother or her sister: the -nose was short and slightly upturned, her nationality strongly marked in -the breadth of the upper part of the face, and the mouth a trifle large. -But then the teeth were brilliant (Steck could see, for she was -smiling), and the full chin was cloven by a dimple. Like Rahel, she -"wore nothing but German," as they termed it, though the national attire -was almost obsolete in Alsace. A full white skirt, with a furbelow, -stopped just short of the dainty ankles, disclosing the neatest little -feet, and a close-fitting white bodice and coquettish black taffeta -apron completed her costume. Her broad-brimmed straw hat was slung over -her arm, and its long blue ribbons added the only touch of color that -she wore. - -"Thus truly a most charming star arose in this rural heaven," Steck -wrote many years later, in describing this exquisite apparition of youth -and grace as she first stood before him. And such was the substance, if -not the form, of his thought as his eyes rested upon her. But the next -moment, for the first time since his disguise, the consciousness of his -own appearance overpowered him with shame and confusion, and he felt the -hot blood tingle in his face. Where were now the glib speech, the -insinuating address, the manly assurance and self-confidence that had -grown upon him with the knowledge of his gifts and had never before -failed him? It was like a disagreeable dream to hear the mention of his -assumed name, to see this beautiful creature make him a graceful -reverence, and to feel so keenly the ridiculousness of his own position, -as he returned with much constraint her salutation. In spite of her -costume, she seemed city-bred, for her greeting was quite different from -the rustic cordiality of her mother and sister, and he fancied he -detected lurking around the corners of her mouth a mischievous smile. - -"So you have come back at last," began Rahel, with no little irritation; -"I suppose it is nothing to you that we have been watching for you since -sunset, and imagining a thousand impossible accidents." - -"I am sorry to have made you uneasy, Rahel," answered Alide, quietly. - -"What new folly or sentimentalism has kept you out till this hour?" -persisted Rahel, her ill humor increased by her sister's imperturbable -composure. - -It was evident that Alide's intuitive refinement prevented her -displaying before a stranger any impatient temper. She loosened her hat -from her arm, laid it on the table, and, turning to her mother, kissed -her cheek like a child. "Mamma," said she, "I am really sorry that I -should have distressed you. Did you not know that Goetz was with me? I -only went to the village, and, as Herr Waldstein said papa was engaged -with a strange gentleman, I took the road behind the house, without -disturbing him to tell him where I had gone. Besides, the days seem to -grow short so suddenly." - -"Well, my child," replied Madame Duroc, returning her caress, "another -time you will try to be more thoughtful: we will say no more about it -now." And she glanced significantly at her elder daughter. Rahel -shrugged her shoulders, as much as to say, "It is always the same but -the mother's calm decision sufficed to disperse at once the little -cloud, and the family were soon chatting together in the gayest and most -friendly way about uncles, aunts, cousins, gossips, and guests, and -Steck learned how much he had to promise himself from so numerous and -lively a circle. - -Max was entirely at his ease, and added his comments and scraps of news -as familiarly as the rest; but Steck felt himself quite apart from the -cheerful group, especially as the consciousness of his false position -confused him more and more. As he listened, he took occasion to observe -them all, and thought with inexpressible astonishment that he was -actually in the Wakefield family. To be sure, the pastor had not the -earnest gravity and discretion of Dr. Primrose; but it would be -difficult to find in real life a single person uniting all the admirable -qualities of the English vicar; and, besides, the characters of -Goldsmith were only reversed, for Frau Duroc had all the dignity and -seriousness that her husband lacked. One could not see her without at -once honoring and reverencing her, and the results of high breeding were -visible in her manner, which was gentle, unconstrained, pleasant, and -attractive. If Rahel had not the celebrated beauty of Olivia, yet she -was pretty, lively, and impetuous; her gestures were more animated, her -voice had a shriller ring, her laugh was more frequent, her manners more -coquettish, than her sister's; and these peculiarities, added to the -scarlet ribbons twisted in her brown hair, and the sparkling vivacity of -her merry dark eyes, gave a somewhat over-pronounced, provincial tone to -her appearance. However, her spirits were so high, and she prattled on -with such a sprightly pleasantry, that Waldstein was bewitched, and -Steck himself might have been attracted by her picturesque individuality -had it not been for Alide. She would answer well, he thought, for -another Sophia; for all that is said of Sophia is that she is amiable; -and who was ever amiable in the original signification of the -word--worthy to be loved--if Alide were not? - -"It is a shame to play a joke upon such good people," said Steck to -himself, fancying it was his conscience that pricked him, when it was -only his vanity that was aroused; and, when all eyes were turned from -him, he quickly removed the gold spectacles and passed his hand lightly -through his hair. As he did so, Max looked at him and smiled -maliciously, but discreetly held his peace. - -For some time Alide had taken little part in the conversation, and had -answered absently the direct questions addressed to her. "That strange -young doctor,"--she was thinking, and it was her conscience, not her -vanity, that spoke,--"he is bashful, to be sure, and he blushes like a -girl; but is it kind in us to leave him there alone? Papa seems to have -forgotten his presence, and mamma is always so quiet. I must try myself -to make him feel a little more at home." And she rose from her low chair -at the pastor's feet and moved towards Steck. But as she looked at him -she drew back and almost lost courage, startled at the transformation -which the pseudo-doctor had undergone. The rapid movement of his hand -had sufficed to change the whole appearance of his head. His brown hair -waved naturally in soft curls, and though the sudden glance of his full, -deeply-set eyes was peculiarly keen and penetrating, yet the drooping -lids and heavy lashes gave them in repose an indescribably gentle -expression. Perhaps she would not have arisen at all if she had known he -looked like that. But it was too late to return. He was sitting by the -open harpsichord, and had taken up the song that lay upon it. - -"Can you play yourself, Dr. Steck?" she asked. - -His habitual tact and ease were restored to him by the young girl's -expression of surprise, which he had not failed to notice. - -"I play after a fashion," he replied; "I cannot pretend to much skill." - -"But you will let us judge for ourselves?" pleaded she, with a winning -smile. - -"Surely, mademoiselle, if it pleases you." And he went to seat himself -before the instrument. - -"What is this?" interrupted the pastor, turning towards them. "Why, -Alide, you certainly will not ask the guest to furnish the -entertainment? You must serve him first yourself, with a performance or -a song." - -"Indeed, I am not in the mood," remonstrated Alide, "but I will do my -best." And without affectation she placed herself before the -harpischord. - -It was a primitive, tinkling little affair, evidently neglected by the -schoolmaster, who should have tuned it long since. Alide played a couple -of pieces in the ordinary mechanical style of country amateurs, and then -sang with rather more sentiment a brief, tender, melancholy song. But -Steck had little knowledge of the art, and if the performance had been -faultless its merits would have been lost upon him. He scarcely knew how -or what the girl was singing; he heard, or rather felt, the fresh clear -voice ring through his brain; he watched the dainty white hands resting -lightly on the old black keys, he noted the dewy, earnest eyes, the -brightly flushed face, the royal little head, and at that moment for him -there was nothing else in the world. - -"Ah!" she cried, suddenly, "I cannot succeed. I am not in the vein." And -she rose with a smile, or rather, as Steck said, "with that touch of -serene joy that ever reposed on her countenance." "I cannot play; and -yet it is not the fault of the harpsichord or my master. Let us go into -the open air, and I will sing you one of my Alsatian songs,--they sound -much better there." - -He followed her with alacrity. The moist freshness of the twilight -breeze, rich with the heavy fragrance of the honeysuckle overhead, blew -towards them as Steck opened the door, and they stood out together in -the porch. Around the wide gray meadows the mountains loomed huge and -sombre against the faded sky, and the moon, still rosy from the vapors -of the horizon, was slowly floating upward. Alide raised her head to see -if any stars were yet shining, and all the white purity of heaven, which -was neither light nor color, but something between the two, descended -like a benediction upon the sweet flower-face. In her blithe, child-like -voice, that vibrated with infinitely more mellowness in the large air, -she began her favorite Alsatian ballad: - - - "I come from a forest as dark as the night, - And, believe me, I love thee, my only delight"-- - - -caroling forth the refrain with the clear flute-notes of a bird. It had a -strange, powerful effect upon the artist's impressionable temperament. -When the song was ended he did not speak. - -"Why do you not thank me for my performance? I have done my best," she -said, innocently, turning quickly around and looking him full in the -face. His eyes were quite wet, and his whole frame was trembling with -excitement. - -"It is too beautiful," he said, in a low voice. - -"Let us go in," exclaimed Alide, abruptly. "It is chilly out here." - -Lights had been brought, and the family were just preparing to go to -supper as they re-entered the room. The first words that Steck heard -were sufficient to recall him fully to himself. "Wolfgang Goethe!" Max -was saying, as if in answer to a question, while the whole group hung -upon his speech. "Of course I know him,--all Strasburg knows him -already----" Then, seeing Steck, he laughed, hesitated, and finally -added, with some awkwardness, "Well, after all, there is nothing -remarkable about him: he is only a jovial young fellow, like the rest of -us." Steck looked at him with a startled glance of inquiry, and, being -met by a mystifying expression on the part of Max, he resumed his prim -student's manner. - -At the supper-table Alide sat directly opposite him, and as she noted -his demure appearance an unaccountable fear and trouble overcame her. -And yet a powerful fascination led her eyes constantly towards his face, -until she found herself forgetting the food before her and blushing with -shame lest her preoccupation had been remarked. As the wine flowed -freely, by imperceptible degrees his countenance became again mobile and -eloquent as it had flashed upon her in the porch. - -In the midst of supper the door was opened, and a lad of about seventeen -sprang into the room, nodded in a half-shy half-familiar way to Steck -and Waldstein, and seated himself boldly among them. "What, Moses, too!" -exclaimed Steck, involuntarily. - -"How do you mean?" asked the pastor, with surprise. "This is my son -Otto." - -"Oh, sir, I beg your pardon," replied Steck, with a laugh. "It is a -foolish habit I have of trying to realize the ideal world. I have lately -been reading a charming story of English life,--the description of a -country parson's home and family,--and I seem to be among them all since -I have been with you. This brave lad was the only one wanting to -complete the novelist's group." - -"That is a fantastic trick," said Dr. Duroc. "Since you have such -romantic tastes, I have no doubt you will be delighted to visit the -interesting localities about us here. Not a hill, a grove, nor a -waterfall but has its own tradition; my girls can tell you them all." - -"I have, indeed, too much pleasure to promise myself here," answered -Steck, eagerly. "But when will you allow me to guide you through my -beloved Strasburg? There, too, every stone in the streets has its -history." - -"My girls are not partial to a town-life," said Madame Duroc. "Their -city cousins are always begging them to go, yet I cannot prevail on them -to leave the parsonage." - -"I cannot abide it!" cried Rahel. "It is very well for Cousins Anna and -Gretchen; they have adopted all the French modes; but as for poor Alide -and myself, we feel like peasants in our German." - -"Nevertheless," interposed. Alide, gently, "you are very kind to ask us, -Dr. Steck; and if we ever do find ourselves in Strasburg we may call -upon you to remember your promise." - -"Oh, I am sure you would forget all your prejudices if you would but let -me take you through the town!" exclaimed Steck, with enthusiasm. "It is -only in a city that one can see the thousandfold life of man fully and -worthily developed. There the broad, rich current of our modern -industries flows past the stately monuments of an antique world. A -single pitiful existence cannot suffice for the soul's insatiable -craving after boundless, interminable activity. One must feel one's self -in all. These busy comers and goers, these merchants, students, artists, -cart be made to serve the single master-mind and carry his thought in -ever-widening circles to the ends of the earth. By Jove! when I feel -myself so young, so favored, so thoroughly alive, I long to taste the -sweets and bitternesses of a hundred existences, to pass through all -experiences. It is for me--I please myself by thinking--to study the -endless aspects under which our national character reveals itself,--to -snatch the secret of the ardent aspirations, the noble discontent, of -our German youth. It is for me----" - -"Steck," interrupted Max, in a dry, quiet tone, from the opposite side -of the table, "don't you think you would like to see the meadows by -moonlight? Since we have all finished our supper, what does madame say -to a walk in the fields?" - -"Oh, charming!" exclaimed Rahel; but Frau Duroc rose silently, and -Alide, who had sat with downcast eyes and abated breath, started and -looked up with a bewildered sort of disappointment. Again she saw the -strange student blush like a girl, and cast, as it were, a mask of -dulness over his face. The fire died out from his eyes, a constrained, -unpleasant expression replaced the ardent enthusiasm that had ennobled -every feature, and once more the shy, awkward Dr. Steck was standing -before her. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -A MOONLIGHT WALK - - -There was a little confusion in the hall, of shawl-wrappings and -head-coverings, and injunctions from Madame Duroc to her daughters to -beware of the wet grass and the dripping leaves. - -"I cannot get this hood over my hair," cried Alide, who had thrown a -white cloak over her shoulders and was vainly trying to draw the hood -over her high braids. "Mamma, it is a mild, soft evening. I will go just -as I am." And so the whole party went out into the bright night. - -The moon was by this time high in the heavens; the meadows were bathed -in a lustrous haze, the brook glittered from unexpected places, the -vineyard was full of black shadows, and the trees of the orchard allowed -broken rays to fall between their branches, checkering the colorless -turf with patches of light and darkness. The sound of the brook -stumbling over its pebbles, of the pleasant little gusts of breeze as -they went shuddering through the crisp foliage, the sudden soft thump of -an apple dropping on the grass, and the incessant song of the crickets, -were all that could be heard even in the intense quietness of the autumn -night. - -For a moment the whole group gazed in silence, but Rahel's voice soon -broke forth, chattering to Max as he drew her arm through his and led -her towards the orchard. "Look! one can almost see the color of the -roses!" she cried. "Wait a minute, and I will pluck this one,--it is -quite overblown: how wet it is! Ah, I have run that horrid thorn in my -finger! Thanks. It was Alide who had them planted on either side of the -gate, where----" And so the girlish voice died away in the distance, and -the two figures were lost among the shadows and shrubbery. - -"Let us go towards the vineyard," suggested Madame Duroc; "Rahel has -taken the other path, but Dr. Steck should see the pretty outlook from -the opposite side of the trellises. Otto, give me your arm, so that I -may not step upon the grass; the dew is almost like rain. Dr. Steck, if -you follow us you will see the prospect to advantage." - -"Go," said the pastor. "I will wait here till you come back. I have not -much relish for these damp walks." And Steck, with Alide upon his arm, -followed Madame Duroc and her son through the moonlit lanes. He looked -down at the girl's face beside him, with her hair gleaming like pale -gold, and the liquid lustre in her eyes which only the moon can shed. -About her form everything was white and shadowy as her thin cloak was -lifted and fluttered around her by the cool air. He felt the elastic -spring of her gait timed perfectly with his own footsteps, the scarcely -perceptible pressure of her arm upon his own, the nearness of the warm, -bright head, and a delicious joy possessed him. But Alide had not -recovered from the disturbing sense of fear with which this strange -young man inspired her, and she was resolved not to allow the sweet -influences of the scene and hour to work upon herself or her companion. -Almost as volubly as Rahel, and as little subdued by the wonderful charm -of the night, she prattled artlessly about all that concerned her daily -life. In the perfect stillness, her mother, a few steps in advance, -could have heard every word she uttered. - -"Of course you will know us all," she said, "for whenever a stranger -stops with us he is sure to return often and become familiar with our -whole family circle. There are so many of us, uncles, aunts, and cousins -included, that we make quite a little world of our own." - -"And among them all," said Steck, in a low, earnest tone, "is there not -one who attracts you particularly?" - -"Yes, indeed," answered Alide, "and many more than one. If you could -only know my aunt Christiane! She is fully sixty years old, and -beautiful as an angel. She had a strange, tragic story connected with -her youth; but the longer she lives the more peaceful life becomes to -her, she says. And, indeed, the mutual devotion between herself and her -two sons seems enough to compensate for many, many trials of the past." - -"And they:--your cousins," interposed Steck, "are they also such -romantic characters?" - -"Dr. Steck, you must not laugh at my enthusiasm," said she, seriously: -"my cousins are--what such a mother must make them." And Steck fancied -it was confusion that made her draw her cloak closer about her and -quicken her steps. - -"Forgive me," he said; "I know I have no claim upon your friendship, -your regard, but when I hear you talk of this happily-united circle I -cannot overcome a painful regret for all I have lost in only now -becoming acquainted with so much that is good. I have been a great deal -alone,--that is to say, in thought and feeling; and I might almost say, -if it were not presuming upon your kindness, that it is a certain -selfish jealousy which I feel in realizing this confiding interchange of -sympathies." - -"In that case," responded Alide, with great composure, "I can promise -you that all our family will extend their friendship and respect to -whoever deserves and needs it." - -He did not reply; but no silence ensued, for she grew more and more -talkative in proportion as his reserve increased. - -When they reached the vineyard they found that the thick shadows of the -grape-leaves made it too dark for them to enter, and Madame Duroc -proposed that they should return at once to the house. Then followed a -simple incident, now familiar to the world as the memorable events of -history. It is but just to say that Steck at the time did not analyze -the tender, sincere emotion which it excited in his breast; but in his -artist-mind everything photographed itself with such distinctness that -almost a lifetime later it recurred to him, and he transferred it to his -Homeric page in the exquisite lines which all of us know. There were -some large stones, roughly hewn to serve as steps, at the entrance of -the vineyard, and they were descending these, when Alide's foot slipped, -and she fell in his arms. For a second he supported her, with her hair -close to his lips, her trembling form palpitating in his grasp. - - - She gently sank on his shoulder, - Breast was placed against breast, and cheek against cheek; thus - he stood there, - Fixed as a marble statue, the force of will keeping him steadfast, - Drew her not to him more closely, but braced himself under her - pressure. - - -She recovered herself almost immediately, and, suffused with shame at -her awkwardness, as she expressed it, she hurried forward by his side. - -Rahel and Max were already in the porch with the pastor when they -arrived. "Did you find it as pleasant as we did?" asked Rahel. "You must -have loitered by the way, for we walked as far as the old pear-tree, and -yet we are home first." - -"It is a rarely beautiful night," answered her mother. "But come, girls, -it is time to go in now; and, Otto, I am sure the gentlemen are quite -ready, after their journey from Strasburg to-day, to be shown to their -room." - -"I congratulate you, Dr. Steck," said Max Waldstein, when Otto had -bidden the two young men good-night and closed the door of the -guest-chamber, "on the result of these serious studies of yours; on your -triumphant success in the praiseworthy attempt to examine these -pastoral, idyllic lives with entire freedom from personal emotions. -Wine, women, and song? Luther was an infant when he wrote it: it is -philosophy, mathematics, jurisprudence, that make the world go round. -What do you say, Dr. Steck? Have you brought your Phædon in your -valise, and shall I fetch it to lull you to sleep? Tell me, am I not an -admirable fellow to have introduced you into the original Primrose -family?" - -"Do not be hard upon me, Max," answered the other, frankly; "I -acknowledge myself vanquished, routed, cut to pieces. But no, I will not -yield like a craven; it is not open warfare, it is an ambuscade. Instead -of warning me of the danger, you lured me into it. It was Rahel who was -bewitching, Rahel who was irresistible; and just as I am pluming myself -that I have met the enemy, received the full shock of her charge, and -come off conqueror, there enters this baby whom you never thought it -worth your while to mention, and before she has spoken I am groveling in -the dust." - -"And it is only your own villainous taste that brought you there," -replied Max. "How could I know that you would prefer one of these -pink-and-white lasses that spring up as thick as weeds all over Germany, -to the sprightly Mademoiselle Rahel, or Olivia, as you have dubbed her? -Truly the story is quite complete: the gentleman in disguise may have -the honor of passing for Mr. Burchell; and, since scoundrels are not so -necessary in common life as in novels, I will undertake the rôle of the -nephew, and behave myself better than he did." - -"Oh, Max!" interrupted his companion, "tell me, above all things, on -your conscience, have you not betrayed me? What can she think of me? -What a cursed fool I have made of myself in this execrable costume! Does -she know that I am Goethe? I heard you talking freely about me before -supper." - -"How the deuce could she know it, when she was out in the porch cooing -to you the only time your name passed my lips?" - -"But her dignified mother, her kind old father," said Goethe, -anxiously,--"have you betrayed me to them? Do they know what a simpleton -I have been?" - -"I cannot answer for that," responded Waldstein, dryly; "but if they -know you are a simpleton they have discovered it through their own -mother-wit, for I assure you, comrade, it is not I who would betray -you." - -"How did you happen to speak of me at all?" asked Goethe. - -"Naturally enough," replied Max: "they questioned me about Strasburg, -and I found your madcap fame had preceded you as far as Sesenheim. They -had heard all sorts of preposterous stuff, and they were just begging me -to tell them something about your eccentricities, when you came in with -your sweetheart on your arm,--oh, no, I beg your pardon, not the -Cathedral, but some heroine of a novel whom you were loftily studying -for your first work of fiction." - -Goethe made no reply, but paced the floor in an excited manner. Max -watched him narrowly with an amused expression, and waited for him to -resume the conversation. Finally he stopped, and broke out abruptly, "Is -she engaged?" - -"No," said Max, shortly. - -"Hm! that is a relief," said Goethe, with a sigh. "Is she in love? has -she ever been in love?" - -"Really, Wolfgang," cried Max, laughing, "I cannot pretend to be -familiar with such a mysterious thing as the heart of a woman. As to her -being in love now, however, I think I can safely answer--no, unless she -was smitten this evening by that pretty gray suit of yours. And for the -past,--well, as she is scarcely more than a child, I hardly think it -possible that she should have had any serious passion hitherto." - -"Strange! strange!" murmured Goethe, absently. "Such a cheerfulness by -nature is inconceivable to me. Had she loved and lost and recovered -herself, or were she now betrothed, in either case I could account for -this deep, earnest serenity." And he relapsed into silence. - -"Those two cousins of hers," he began, in a little while, "her aunt -Catherine--no, that is not the name--her aunt Christiane's sons: has she -not a sentiment for one of them?" - -"For both of them, for all I know," answered Max; "but if you could see -them, I hardly believe you would suspect it. I think the Durocs have -monopolized the beauty of the family. And, besides, one of these cousins -is some few months younger than herself, and therefore in her womanly -eyes a mere child; the other is already married. Any more catechism -to-night, Wolfgang?" - -"Yes; who is Goetz?" asked Goethe, with great eagerness. - -Max burst into a laugh. "Oh, I forgot Goetz," he cried. "There I -acknowledge you have a rival, and a formidable one, too. Why, I have -seen your modest, demure Fräulein Alide fling her arms about his neck -and caress his black, curly head as though he were a good-looking fellow -like one of us. And yet he has beauties of his own, too,--to say nothing -of his moral qualities,--a world of courage, a keen scent----" A light -broke upon Goethe's face, and he could not repress a smile himself. -"Yes," said Waldstein, "you are a rather presumptuous lad,--you have not -been in the family a dozen hours, and you are jealous of the house-dog! -But come, this may be very interesting for you, but I am tired and quite -ready for sleep. I advise you to break off that walk of yours, and -exercise your limbs in the morning. It is past midnight; and who knows -but that I have my dreams to be dreamed out as well as you?" - -A few moments later, honest Max was asleep as his head touched the -pillow; but Goethe tossed feverishly about, and it was not till a short -time before dawn that he succeeded in calming sufficiently his turbulent -imagination to snatch a troubled slumber. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -GOETHE - - -With the earliest beams of morning Goethe awoke. "Alide" was his first -thought, and he sprang from his bed and began hastily to dress himself, -that he might go into the open air and see her in the broad, dewy light -of the young day. But now he was indeed horrified at the absurd wardrobe -which he had so wantonly selected: the farther he advanced in his -toilet, the meaner it seemed in his eyes, for everything had been -calculated for just this effect. His hair could easily be managed; but -when he forced himself into the shabby gray coat, and saw himself -reflected in the little mirror piece by piece, first the short, -threadbare sleeves, then the ill-fitting jacket, and then the ridiculous -breeches, he fell into despair. He looked at Waldstein's fine clothes as -they hung over the chair, and gladly would he have carried them off and -left his accursed husk behind, for Max was sufficiently good-humored to -have put himself readily into his friend's costume, and so the tale -would have found a merry ending early in the morning. But Waldstein was -so much shorter and stouter than himself that this attire would give him -as ridiculous an appearance as his own. While he was standing with a -perplexed, dejected countenance, summoning all his powers of invention, -he heard a low, smothered laugh issuing from under the silken bed-quilt. -He turned quickly and saw Max peering mischievously out upon him. "No, -it is true," exclaimed Max, "you do look most cursedly!" - -"And I know what I will do!" cried Goethe, impetuously. "Good-by, and -make my excuses." - -Waldstein sprang from the bed and tried to detain him. "Are you mad?" he -called out. But it was too late, for his friend was already out of the -door, down the stairs, out of the house and yard, and off to the tavern. - -Now that he felt himself in safety, the cheerful sunlight and the cool -breath of morning somewhat restored his quiet. He walked rapidly across -the meadows to the Drusenheim inn, mounted his horse, which he had left -there the evening before, and rode leisurely towards Strasburg, with the -intention, of changing his toilet, taking a fresh horse, and returning -to the parsonage in time for dinner, or at the latest for dessert, and -making his apologies and explanations. As he recalled the evening which -he had spent with the Durocs, the pleasant incidents that had occurred, -and the delicious emotions he had experienced, his vexation at his own -folly, and his impatience to see again the beloved face of Alide, grew -wellnigh intolerable. He was just about to clap spurs into his steed and -gallop into the city, when a sudden thought flashed upon him, and, -turning the animal about, he rode back towards Drusenheim. He entered -the court-yard of the tavern, and inquired for the landlord's son, whom -he had remarked as a likely lad yesterday afternoon. Master Fritz, a -well-made, good-looking youth, of somewhat the same figure and height as -Goethe, soon made his appearance. In a few words Wolfgang proposed that -the young man should exchange clothes with him, as he had something -merry on foot at the parsonage. - -"Capital!" cried Fritz; "you must be a good fellow, to make sport for -the mam'selles; they are such excellent people, especially Mam'selle -Alide; and the old folks, too, are fond of having everything go on -pleasantly." He looked critically at Goethe's shabby costume, evidently -taking him for a poor enough starveling, but he was honest-hearted and -amiable, and, besides, Wolfgang was to leave his good horse in the -stable; so, without any ado, he consented to the bargain, adding, -complacently, "If you wish to insinuate yourself, this is the right -way." - -Goethe soon stood smart enough in the court-yard, and his new friend -looked with much satisfaction at the counterpart. "Topp! Mr. Brother," -he cried, giving his hand, which Wolfgang grasped heartily, "don't come -too near my girl; she might make a mistake." - -"Let me go in with you a moment," said Goethe, "that I may dress my hair -like yours." "Since my intentions are enigmatical," he thought, "I will -make myself an external riddle also." In a short time his soft brown -locks were knotted jauntily on top, and with the help of a burnt cork -his delicate arched eyebrows were thickened and darkened, and made to -meet over his nose like those of the innkeeper's son. Then, taking the -gayly-beribboned hat, he said, "Now, have you not something or other to -be done at the parsonage, that I might announce myself there in a -natural manner?" - -"Good," said the lad; "but in that case you must wait a couple of hours -yet. There is a woman confined at our house. I will offer to take the -cake to the parson's wife, and you may carry it over. Pride must pay its -penalty, and so must a joke." - -His first device to beguile the tedious time was to order breakfast. He -sat at the table familiarly with Fritz, and proposed to loiter an hour -or so at the meal; but his exercise in the bracing air had added such -zest to his appetite that when he had satisfied his hunger he found, to -his surprise, but twenty minutes sped of his two hours' penance. Fritz -suggested that Goethe, being an apt and amiable fellow, should go with -him to the farmyard and stables and superintend the household -arrangements for the day, and perhaps lend here and there a helping -hand. Goethe was just the man to have interested himself deeply at any -other moment in all the particulars of this active, healthy life, these -varied duties, this genial, pleasant occupation which Fritz was to -inherit and in which he already performed a large share of the work. -Besides, the open-hearted peasant took the stranger into his confidence, -and imparted various perplexities of his love-affairs, which just now -were in rather an embarrassing condition. It was Lotte who held him to -some foolish pledge of his boyhood, and it was Minna of the parsonage -who possessed his heart. But Goethe was haunted by the vision of Alide, -and burning with impatience to realize his dream: so he lent but an -abstracted and unsympathetic ear to the prosy details of crops and -marketings and tavern-profits, curiously interspersed with the idyllic -complications of the peasant's personal history. - -Meanwhile, at the parsonage, Alide also had risen betimes, and, as the -events of the past evening recurred to her, her heart beat with unwonted -excitement at the thought of meeting again this strange young man and -penetrating his mystery. This searching daylight, she said to herself, -would reveal all; it was only the dimness of lamplight and moonlight -that had made her fancy such sudden, subtle changes in his countenance. -Yet it was not his appearance only that had altered. How thoroughly -self-possessed she found him when she had advanced, in compassion for -his embarrassment, to ask him to touch the harpsichord! And what did -Herr Waldstein mean by interrupting that, burst of eloquence at the -supper-table? Never before had she heard a man talk like that; she could -not raise her eyes while he spoke. Ah! had she seen him at such a -moment, she would have divined who and what he was. When she did look, -it was too late; the curtain had been again drawn. - -Hitherto, when she had been in doubt about a stranger, she had never -failed to appeal to her mother's decision, with unquestioning faith in -the infallibility of that wise, deliberate judgment. Now, however, she -did not dream of turning to any one for counsel; no one suspected the -hidden treasure of which she had caught a glimpse. Her mother seemed -grave, and even displeased, when Dr. Steck had spoken so eloquently at -the table, and Rahel had no eyes for any one else while Max was with -her. She would discover everything for herself, and then present to them -all her prince in disguise, and he should know that never for an instant -had she been deceived by the shabby surface. - -She looked more like a child than yesterday, as she sprang down-stairs -into the open air, for she had left her plaited hair hanging down her -back, and replaced her coronet of braids with a snood of pale-blue -ribbon. But the serious eyes held something more suggestive of the -perfect flowering of maidenhood than any light they possessed before -they had fallen upon Goethe's face. - -The family were just seating themselves at the breakfast-table when the -door opened, and Alide, who had glanced up eagerly, saw, with a chill of -disappointment, Herr Waldstein enter alone. Before the pastor could -inquire about his new guest, Max said, with some constraint, "My friend -begs me to tell you all, with a great many apologies for his apparent -rudeness, and many more thanks for your kindness to him, that he has -been obliged to return in haste to Strasburg." - -"I am sorry for that," said the pastor; "I flatter myself that I can -judge character pretty accurately, and that youth pleased me amazingly: -he was a fine, ingenuous fellow. Well, I doubt not but he will turn up -again." - -"Oh, you may be sure of that!" said Max, who could not refrain from a -furtive glance at Alide. "He was delighted with his evening here, and he -pulled a wry face at having to return to the city." - -"It seems strange that he was obliged to leave so suddenly," said Madame -Duroc: "he certainly could not have received news from town so early." - -"No, madame," stammered Max; "but last night--no, not last night--in -fact, though he is a good fellow, to tell you the truth, he is something -of a madcap. Indeed, he is only a boy in years, and he rode over here -for a holiday, without remembering an important business engagement for -this morning in town. I am quite sure he will return soon and make you -his own excuses." - -No further attention was paid to the freak so naturally accounted for, -while the family conversation flowed on in its ordinary channels. How -intolerably flat it was to poor Alide! Her little romance was shattered -to bits by this unexpected incident; she was sure he would never come -back. Now, more than ever, he was a prince in disguise, and, since he -had been with her the greater part of the evening, the modest girl -accused herself of a thousand blunders that must have driven him away. -How she had bored him with her foolish confidences about her dull -village circle! how ungainly he must have found her rustic appearance -and manner! She choked a sigh, and tried to interest herself again in -the trivial events of her home-life. After breakfast Rahel proposed a -walk, and the two sisters fetched their hats and strolled with Waldstein -across the meadows. Alide almost forgot to be melancholy in the sunshine -of the autumn fields. Ah, how easily at this early period could she have -succeeded in what seemed to her the heroic endeavor to banish all -recollection of the wonderful stranger! She called Goetz from his -kennel, and in a little while she was bounding with the dog, laughing -and singing, far ahead of Max and Rahel, or gayly chatting alongside of -them. - -There are women who especially please us in a room; others who look -better in the open air. Alide belonged to the latter. Her whole nature, -her form, never appeared more charming than when she moved along an -elevated footpath. The grace of her deportment seemed to vie with the -flowery earth, and the indestructible cheerfulness of her countenance -with the blue sky. In walks she floated about, an animating spirit, and -knew how to supply the gaps which might arise here and there. The -lightness of her movements we have already commended, and she was most -graceful when she ran. As the deer seems just to fulfil its destination -when it lightly flies over the sprouting corn, so did her peculiar -nature seem most plainly to express itself when she ran with light steps -over mead and furrow, to seek something which had been lost, to summon a -distant couple, or to order something necessary. On these occasions she -was never out of breath, and always kept her equilibrium. - -"Who is this coming towards us with a white thing in his hands?" asked -Max. - -"Oh, that is Fritz, the innkeeper's son," said Rahel, drawing her -eyelids together coquettishly. "But what can he be running across the -meadows with?" - -As he drew near, Alide called out, "Fritz, what are you bringing there?" - -He took off his hat in such a manner that it entirely concealed his -face, and, without speaking, held up a loaded napkin high in the air. - -"A christening-cake!" cried Alide. "How is your sister?" - -"Well," replied he, shortly. - -"Carry it to the house," said Rahel. "If you do not find my mother, give -it to the maid. Rut wait for us; we shall soon be back. Do you hear? -That will give him a chance with Minna," she added, kindly, as they -continued their walk. - -With a joyous feeling of hope, Goethe in his new disguise hastened along -the path, and soon reached the parsonage. He found nobody either in the -house or the kitchen, and, taking it for granted that the pastor was -engaged in the study, he seated himself on a bench in the porch, with -his cake beside him, and pressed down his hat over his brows. It was -indeed a delightful sensation which he now experienced; to sit again on -this threshold over which a short time before he had blundered out in -despair, to have seen her already again, to have heard again her dear -voice so soon after his chagrin had pictured to him a long separation, -and every moment to be expecting herself and a discovery at which his -heart throbbed, and yet a discovery without shame, for surely love never -prompted a merrier prank. - -But the maid came stepping out of the barn. "Did the cakes turn out -well?" cried she. "And how is your sister?" - -"All right," replied Goethe, and pointed to the cake without looking up. - -She raised the napkin and muttered, "Now, what's the matter with you -to-day again? Has Lotte been looking at somebody else? Don't let us -suffer for that; you will make a happy couple if you carry on so." - -As she spoke rather loud, the pastor came to the window and asked what -was the matter. She showed him the supposed Fritz, who rose and turned -towards him, but kept the hat well over his face. - -"Good-morning, Fritz," said the pastor; "I am glad to hear you say your -sister is getting along nicely. You may go round to the kitchen and say -a word to Minna." - -With these friendly words the pastor turned into the room again, and -Goethe was moving towards the garden, when he heard the voice of Madame -Duroc, who was just entering the court-yard, calling him. He was obliged -to meet her with the sun shining full in his face, but he still availed -himself of the advantage which his hat afforded him, and greeted her by -scraping a leg. - -"How are you, Fritz?" said she, kindly. "Go to the kitchen, and be sure -not to return home without taking some breakfast." And she re-entered the -house. - -Goethe walked up and down the garden, congratulating himself on his -unexpected luck, and breathing hard at the thought that he should so -soon see again the young people. Lost in his reflections, he did not -hear a step approach, and, raising his head suddenly, he found Madame -Duroc directly in front of him. "Fritz," she began, and then, for the -first time looking him full in the face, the words died away upon her -lips. He saw that it was useless to try to conceal himself any longer, -and, doffing his hat, he stood before her in the sunshine, with his eyes -cast to the ground and his face covered with blushes. - -After a pause she exclaimed, with displeasure, "I am looking for Fritz, -and whom do I find? Is it you, young sir? How many forms have you, -then?" - -He raised his eyes and looked at her so honestly and respectfully that -her anger was appeased. "In earnest, only one," he replied, gravely; and -then added, with a merry smile, "but in sport, as many as you like." - -"Which sport I will not spoil," said she, graciously, smiling in her -turn. "Go out behind the garden into the meadow until it strikes twelve, -then come back, and I shall already have contrived the joke." - -He obeyed, and, after passing beyond the hedges of the village gardens, -he was embarrassed by seeing some country-people advancing towards him -along the footpath. By his side was a hill crowned by a small wood, and, -springing up the elevation, he plunged into the grove, in order to -conceal himself till the appointed time. He found himself at once in a -little sylvan paradise. The soft turf was mottled with broken sunlight -and strewn with the first fall of leaves; patches of the deep-blue sky -were shining between the restless foliage and waving branches, and on -every side a heaven-bright picture, set in a bushy frame, opened before -him. Below, was the lively village, and at no great distance, as seen -from this point, stood the gray parsonage, embosomed in its prosperous -fields. Beyond, lay Drusenheim, with its old-fashioned inn, and its -glittering tiled roof that caught the sunlight, while far away rose into -sight the steeple of Strasburg Minster. He could catch between the trees -a glimpse of the flowing shimmer of the Rhine, and could distinguish in -the hazy distance its woody islands, with their magical tints of yellow -and russet and green. In the opposite direction waved the noble outlines -of the Vosges, their purple hollows and dazzling light-green -pasture-slopes streaked with shifting shadows. - -It was evident that he had not been the first to appreciate this rare -combination of lovely vistas, for benches had been placed around, so -that one could admire at leisure from every point. Seating himself upon -one of these, under a tall elm, he saw fastened on the trunk an oblong -little board with the inscription, "Alide's Rest." His heart beat -violently at the sudden recollection. A light footstep startled him from -his reverie, and, looking around, he saw Alide, who, aglow with youth -and beauty, "most highly realized his fair dream." - -"Why, Fritz, what are you doing here?" she cried, from below the hill. - -"Not Fritz," exclaimed Goethe, running to meet her, "but one who craves -forgiveness of you a thousand times." - -She looked at him in wonder, almost in alarm, and fetched her breath -quickly; but, endeavoring to conceal her emotion with a laugh, she said, -"You wicked man! how you frighten me!" - -"The first disguise has led me into the second," cried he; "the former -would have been unpardonable had I but known, in any degree, to whom I -was coming. But this one you will certainly forgive, for it is the shape -of persons whom you treat so kindly." - -She colored deeply, but walked up the hill with him, and answered, "At -any rate, you will not fare worse than Fritz. Let us sit down; for I -confess the fright has gone into my limbs." - -Goethe was even more agitated than herself as they entered the grove and -took their seats. So many conventional necessities come to the aid of a -woman that Alide, whose heart was thrilled with joy at finding him thus -again, was able to speak with perfect composure. "We know everything -already, up to this morning, from your friend," said she; "now do you -tell us the rest." - -"What! you know that I am Goethe, and you pardon my boldness, my -presumption, in deceiving you as I did! But you cannot imagine my horror -this morning in thinking that I must again appear before you in such a -guise as to excite nothing but ridicule and disgust. I thought of all -your genial household, but above all, one face was always before me, -hospitable, gentle, even as it is now, but with that terrible smile -lurking behind it. Then Max, who was watching me, broke out into a -laugh. It was too much. I rushed from the house in despair, to -Strasburg, as I intended; but the happy idea occurred to me that I might -borrow something presentable of Fritz,--anything to appear human in your -sight, to throw myself at your feet and implore your forgiveness for my -folly." - -She laughed low and graciously at his vehemence, and answered, -good-humoredly, "How can I help forgiving one who has suffered so -grievously?" - -"Ah, mademoiselle," he went on, with his eyes fixed upon the ground, "it -seems a light thing to suffer in that way, I know; but it is something -deeper than vanity that is wounded when one makes a false step in -entering a home like yours. My first glance at you, as you stood under -the doorway, told me, There is a woman whose friendship, whose -affection, would be worth a lifetime to win. And before I had spoken I -had forfeited them forever." He paused, not daring to look her in the -face. - -"Surely," said she, in her even quiet tones, "the friendship of a woman -who would attach a serious construction to so harmless a joke would -scarcely be worth striving for." - -He looked up with joyful assurance. "Then you forgive me!" he cried. -"Ah, you are too generous! But I knew you were like that. Last night, -when you sang for me in the porch, when we walked together in that -heavenly moonlight, I could find no words to offer you. What could you -have thought of me, as I stood dull and taciturn by your side? But no, -Fraulein Alide, surely you guessed what was passing within me. And now -that you know who I am, I feel as if I must give vent in speech to this -great emotion. I must thank you for your incredible goodness to me. -Again and again I must ask you to forgive me the alarm I have caused -you." - -She made no answer, and he took her hand and imprinted a kiss upon its -dainty whiteness. She did not withdraw it, but suffered it to remain in -his. "And to think," said he, "that this morning I fancied myself -eternally separated from you! How little do we repose upon the -inexhaustible beneficence of the gods! Now I sit by your side, I look -into your eyes, I press to my lips your dear hand,--and an hour ago -there was a gulf between us. What does this mean, save that they will -bless us, they in whose guidance and support, like little children, we -confide?" And he bowed his stately head with simple reverence as he -spoke. - -It would have been impossible to doubt the sincerity of that appeal. -This was not as her father spoke of Heaven, but Alide felt none the less -that the words came from the young man's inmost heart. While he talked, -he did not seem to have remarked how meditative and silent she had -become. She looked at him while his glance was bent away from her, and a -sudden glow overspread her face, and her eyes rested upon him with such -wonderful tenderness that he might have fancied their liquid depths were -filling with tears. He raised his head abruptly, and, noting her -agitation, he threw aside his grave air, and once more impetuously -craved her pardon. - -"Alide! Alide!" It was the voice of her sister calling her. Immediately -she recovered her composure, together with her perfect cheerfulness. -"That will be a pretty story," said she. "She is coming hither on my -side." And she bent forward so as half to conceal Goethe. "Turn yourself -away, so that you may not be recognized at once." - -As he did so, Rahel and Waldstein entered the grove, and both stood -still as if petrified. - -"What is this? what is this?" cried Rahel, with the rapidity of one who -is frightened. "You hand in hand with Fritz,--how am I to understand -this?" - -"Dear sister," said Alide, "the poor fellow is begging something of me, -and he has something to beg of you too; but you must forgive him -beforehand." - -"I do not understand," said her sister, shaking her head and looking at -Max, who stood by and contemplated the scene without any kind of -expression. - -Alide arose and drew Goethe after her. "No hesitating," cried -she,--"pardon begged and granted." - -"Now do," said he, stepping near Rahel. "I have need of pardon." - -She drew back, gave a loud shriek, and was covered with blushes. She -then threw herself down on the grass and laughed immoderately. Waldstein -smiled, and exclaimed, "You are a rare youth!" and he shook Goethe's -hand. He was not usually liberal of his caresses, and his shake of the -hand was hearty and cordial. - -Rahel arose, and they all set out on their return to the parsonage. -Mutual explanations ensued, and Goethe learned that Alide had only -parted from the promenaders in order to rest in her little nook for a -moment before dinner; and when the others returned to the house, the -mother had sent them to call her, for dinner was ready. - -"This is indeed too delightful!" cried Rahel, wiping the tears of -laughter from her eyes. "So mamma has discovered the secret, you say. -Now we have still to deceive papa, and Otto, and Minna, and Hans." - -Amid a great deal of merriment, they mystified the servant-man and the -maid, and all four in high spirits entered the dining-room. The table -was covered, and the pastor was already waiting in the room. Rahel -paused on the threshold and called out, "Papa, have you any objection to -Fritz dining with us to-day? But you must let him keep his hat on." - -"With all my heart," said the old man. "But why such an unusual thing? -has he hurt himself?" - -"No," replied Rahel, leading Goethe forward, "but he has a bird-cage -under it, and the birds will fly out and make a terrible fuss, for they -are nothing but wild ones." So saying, she pulled off Goethe's hat and -bade him make his curtsy. - -The pastor looked at him, but did not lose his priestly self-possession. -"Ay, ay, Mr. Candidate!" he exclaimed, raising a threatening finger, -"you have changed saddles very quickly, and in the night I have lost an -assistant who yesterday promised me so faithfully that he would often -mount my pulpit on week-days. Well, you are welcome in any guise." And -they all seated themselves at the table. - -During the meal Otto came in, and, slapping Goethe on the shoulder, -said, "Good dinner to you, Fritz." - -"Many thanks, squire," cried Goethe. The strange voice and the strange -face startled him. - -"What do you say," asked Rahel,--"does he not look like his brother?" - -"Yes, from behind, like all folks," said Otto, who would not acknowledge -himself surprised; and he did not look at Goethe again, but busied -himself with zealously devouring the dishes to make up for lost time. At -dessert the real Fritz came in; they began to banter him, but he was -modest and clever enough, and in a half-confused manner mixed up -himself, his sweetheart, his counterpart, and the mam'selles to such a -degree that no one could tell about whom he was talking, and they were -only too glad to let him consume in peace a glass of wine and a bit of -his own cake. - -After dinner the young people assembled in the porch to decide how best -to take advantage of the serene afternoon. Their spirits were subdued by -a deep and tranquil happiness, and only quiet amusements were proposed. -A walk was objected to, as it would have been awkward for Goethe to meet -any of the neighboring country-folk in his borrowed clothes, and finally -Max suggested that as Wolfgang was the obstacle to their ordinary -pastimes, the entertainment of the company should devolve upon him. - -"The fellow has any quantity of rhymes and fairy-tales in his valise," -said Waldstein, "and he can fetch some of them now and read to us in the -open air. What is the use of having a poet among us if we must divert -ourselves in as commonplace a way as other people?" - -The proposition was hailed with delight, and Goethe was dispatched to -his room for his manuscripts. "How I wish all the family could enjoy -such a treat!" said Rahel; "but what is the use of calling them? I know -papa has gone for his nap, and mamma is always busy. Where shall we go -for our entertainment?" - -"Why not to Fräulein Alide's 'Rest'?" asked Goethe, who had rejoined -them. - -"No," said Alide, hurriedly, "that is too far; we will go into the -summer-house by the orchard." - -"Excellent!" cried Max; "that is the very place. Wolf must pose as a -mediæval minnesinger, improvising his verses amidst beautiful damsels -in the open air." - -"No," modestly replied Goethe, with a laugh; "no more _poses_ for me. -After my misadventure yesterday, I am content to be simply Wolfgang -Goethe with these young ladies,--neither meistersinger, nor doctor, nor -peasant,--and if I can but redeem that name in their sight I shall be -grateful. Besides, I am not going to inflict any rhymes upon you; it -will be plain prose, and no very lofty flight of imagination, either." - -They took their seats in the arbor, with the sunlight flickering down on -them through the red vine-leaves; Goethe in the centre, and Alide -directly in front of him, with her chin resting on her hand, reflecting -in her upturned face the inspiration and excitement of the countenance -upon which her eyes were riveted. Rahel busied her restless fingers with -a piece of scarlet needlework, and Max as usual took a low seat near her -feet, whence he could admire the little downcast chestnut head. For more -than two hours the young magician held his circle enchanted, not so much -by the charm of the story, though that also exercised a powerful -attraction, as by the masterly modulations of his voice, the grace of -his unstudied attitude and occasional gestures, the infinite play of -expression upon his face,--in a word, by the irresistible influence of -his personality. - -He succeeded in awakening curiosity, in fixing the attention, in -provoking over-hasty solutions of impenetrable riddles, in deceiving -expectations, in confusing by the more wonderful which came into the -place of the wonderful, in arousing sympathy and fear, in causing -anxiety, in moving, and at last, by the change of what was apparently -earnest into an ingenious and cheerful jest, in satisfying, the mind, -and leaving the imagination materials for new images, and the -understanding, materials for further reflection. - -When it was over, there was a short pause. Then Max broke out, "Bravo, -bravo! it is beyond expectation!" - -"How singular, how wonderful, it is!" echoed Rahel. "But you must let us -have a copy of it, that we may read it often among ourselves and show it -to our friends." - -"To think that it is over now!" said Alide, wistfully, with a little -sigh. "Yes, Herr Goethe, you will promise what my sister asks, will you -not? It is not very long, and I am sure you could easily make a fair -copy of the whole, and leave it with us as a memento of this happy -afternoon." - -"Most willingly," replied Goethe; "I will bring it to you from the city -as soon as I can transcribe it. But such a day as this has been for me -should indeed, as you say, leave something substantial in our -possession. Have I compensated sufficiently as Goethe for the follies of -Dr. Steck, to ask something from you, Fräulein Alide?" - -"Is it in my power to grant?" asked she. - -"It is the rose in your hair." - -"Oh, is that all?" said she, simply. "I had forgotten it was there,--it -can scarcely be fresh now." And she untwisted the stem of the white -flower from her snood and threw it playfully into his hands. - -"The day has already come to a close for us," said Waldstein, with a -significant glance at his friend. "You know, Wolfgang, I must be back in -Strasburg to-morrow morning." - -"Well, then, our holiday is over," assented Goethe, with a sigh. "We -will go to the house and take leave of all our kind entertainers." - -As they were returning to the parsonage, he found occasion to whisper to -Alide, "Your wonderful goodness to me prompts me to one question more: -May I interpret as I please your generosity about the rose?" - -"It means only one thing," said Alide, in a tremulous and almost -inaudible voice, while her face grew deadly pale, and she laid her hand -upon his arm. He seized it in his own, and kissed it passionately -without speaking. - -Two hours later, he and his friend, after a silent walk across the -meadows, entered their quarters for the night, at the Drusenheim inn. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -FIRST LOVE - - -Far different had it been from the sunny stroll which they had enjoyed -the previous day. The seemingly harmless clouds that had overhung the -mountains since morning had now accumulated in threatening masses, and -rolled in huge gray vapors over all the heavens. A wet, penetrating mist -overspread the earth, and a chill wind that smelt already of the rain -blew drearily, now and then shaking down showers of condensed moisture -from the faded trees. As the two friends advanced, night came on so -suddenly that more than once they strayed from the path and were obliged -to retrace their footsteps. Goethe felt a grapple at his heart which led -his thoughts incessantly backward. At the last moment, when he was -taking leave in the porch, Alide had been sent by her father to fetch -the plans for the rebuilding of the manse, which Goethe had offered to -take with him to Strasburg. - -"I am glad you are not going as far as the city to-night," said Rahel, -looking up at the clouds: "what a gloomy ending for such a bright day!" - -"And yet," replied Goethe, "I shall always think of the parsonage as an -enchanted castle associated with perpetual sunshine." - -"Well, if the storm should overtake you," answered Rahel, laughing, "my -sister and myself will be the powerful princesses to protect you till -you get beyond our dominions. Will we not, Alide?" And she turned to her -sister, who reappeared with the scroll. - -"That we will," said Alide, with spirit; "and here is my talisman to -shield you from the dangers of the road." - -When he looked back at her, he saw her smiling still upon him, until her -fresh rose-face and white-clad form were lost in the folds of mist, and -she vanished as weirdly and gradually as a spirit maiden. - -"Well, I am not sorry to get under shelter after the infernal cold -darkness of this night," cried Max, as they entered their room at the -inn. - -"We are fortunate to have escaped a storm," replied Goethe, and relapsed -into silence. - -"It is strange," resumed Waldstein, "that you should have hit upon that -story to read to the girls. Did you not notice what a peculiar -impression it made?" - -"How do you mean? I could not help observing that the elder laughed more -than was appropriate at certain passages, that Fräulein Alide shook her -head, that you all looked significantly at each other, and you yourself -were nearly put out of countenance. I do not deny that I almost felt -embarrassed myself, for it struck me that it was perhaps improper to -tell the dear girls a parcel of stuff of which they had better been -ignorant, and to give them such a bad opinion of the male sex as they -must have formed from the principal character." - -"You have not hit it at all," said Max. "The 'dear girls' are not so -unacquainted with such matters as you imagine, for the society around -them gives occasion for many reflections; and there happens to be on the -other side of the Rhine exactly such a couple as you describe, allowing -a little for fancy and exaggeration; the husband just So tall and sturdy -and heavy, the wife so pretty and dainty that he could easily hold her -in his hand. Their mutual position in other respects, their history -altogether, so exactly accords with your tale, that the girls seriously -asked me whether you knew the persons and described them in jest. I -assured them you did not; and if you follow my advice you will let the -story remain uncopied. With the assistance of delays and pretexts you -may easily find an excuse." - -It was only this night that Alide experienced the vague trouble of a new -passion. The ominous threats of a storm, so unexpected after the -resplendent brightness of the day, the wild, melancholy howling of the -rising wind, added to the turmoil of her own breast, held her eyes from -sleep during the long, slow hours; and, though she could assign no -cause, at intervals great tears would slowly gather under her lids and -trickle down her cheeks. When she recalled her own avowal to Goethe, she -felt her whole frame tremble and the blood mount to her face in the -darkness. Just as she was about to soothe herself to sleep with the -sweet thought that she loved and was beloved by one who was worthy, the -storm broke without. The rain streamed in floods on roof and pane and -gable, and startled her into hopeless wakefulness. She rose and looked -out into the blurred blackness of the night, while a thousand fantastic -terrors possessed her brain. The simple girl clasped her hands together, -and, kneeling by her bedside, implored the blessing and protection of -Heaven upon this stranger so suddenly endeared to her. This solemn -communion finally succeeded in quieting her, and she was able to gain a -few hours of profound and dreamless repose. - -When she awoke, the clear sunlight was slanting through the lattice; she -could catch glimpses without of the brightness of the rain-washed blue -and green. Her heart was uplifted within her by the inspiriting sight. -How shadowy, how childish, seemed all the distorted fears of the night -before this dazzling reality! Goethe's words came back to her: "how -little do we repose in the inexhaustible beneficence of the gods!" and -from that moment a sense of perfect peace took entire possession of her. -All day it was as though she walked upon the clouds; the earth seemed -elastic beneath her footsteps; the air was a palpable tissue of color -and radiance; the heavens were filled with saints and angels, who -watched over him with the same universal eyes with which they shed all -blessed influences upon her. Her own thoughts sufficed her for perpetual -delight: every moment she recalled another expression, another gesture, -another word that she had remarked the previous day. She lived over and -over those magical hours. The toss of his head, the music of his -laughter, the characteristic movement of his hand over his brow, the -trick of his voice, the glimpse which she had caught of tears in his -eyes as she looked at him after her song in the porch, and reminiscences -more sacred than these which she scarcely dared put in words even in her -mind, set the poor child's head in a whirl of happiness from morning -till night. - -The next day brought her a letter; there was no need to tell her who had -traced the bold and graceful characters of the superscription. It was -Fritz who carried it to her from the inn, and she had much ado to -conceal from him the extravagant delight which it occasioned her. She -succeeded, however, in receiving it with composure, even lingering a -moment to question him about his sister and her new baby. Then she -walked quietly away with her treasure in her hand. When she felt herself -out of his sight, she paused with a fluttering heart to decide where she -could enjoy it with the least danger of disturbance, and finally ran off -in the direction of the little grove where she had found Goethe the -morning after his arrival. She took her seat under the elm-tree, and -fora few moments contented herself with gazing at her own name in these -shapely Roman letters: "Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle Alide Duroc. The -Parsonage, Sesenheim." She was in no haste to possess and secure her -happiness; she liked to dally with it, that she might taste the -sweetness of its every phase. At last she broke the seal, and read so -slowly and deliberately that after a single reading she could have -repeated it from beginning to end, for every word had burned itself upon -her heart. - - - "STRASBURG, OCTOBER 15, 1770. - -"MY DEAR NEW FRIEND,--I dare to call you so, for if I can trust the -language of eyes, then did mine in the first glance read the hope of -this new friendship in yours,--and for our hearts I will answer. You, -good and gentle as I know you, will you not show some favor to one who -loves you so? Dear, dear friend, that I have something to say to you -there can be no question, but it is quite another matter whether I -exactly know wherefore I now write and what I may write. Thus much I am -conscious of by a certain inward unrest, that I would gladly be by your -side, and that a scrap of paper is as true a consolation and as winged a -steed for me here in noisy Strasburg as it can be to you in your quiet, -if you truly feel the separation from your friend. The circumstances of -our journey home you can easily imagine, if you marked my pain at -parting, and how I longed to remain behind. Waldstein's thoughts went -forward, mine backward; so you can understand how our conversation was -neither interesting nor copious. At the end of the Wanzenau we thought -to shorten our route, and found ourselves in the midst of a morass. -Night came on, and we only needed the storm, which threatened to -overtake us, to have had every reason for being fully convinced of the -love and constancy of our princesses. Meanwhile, the scroll which I held -constantly in my hand--fearful of losing it--was a talisman which -charmed away all the perils of the journey. And now--oh, I dare not -utter it!--either you can guess it, or you will not believe it! At last -we arrived, and our first thought, which had been our joy on the road, -was the project soon to see you again. How delicious a sensation is the -hope of seeing again those we love! And we, when our coddled heart is a -little sorrowful, at once bring it medicine, and say: Dear little heart, -be quiet, you will not long be away from her you love; be quiet, dear -little heart! Meanwhile we give it a chimera to play with, and then is -it good and still as a child to whom the mother gives a doll, instead of -the apple which it must not eat. - -"You would not believe that the noisy gayety of Strasburg is -disagreeable to me after the sweet country pleasures enjoyed with you. -Never, mademoiselle, did Strasburg seem so empty to me as now. I hope, -indeed, it will be better when the remembrance of those charming hours -is a little dimmed,--when I no longer feel so vividly how good, how -amiable, my friend is. Yet ought I to forget that, or to wash it? No, I -will rather retain a little sorrow, and write to you frequently. And now -many, many thanks and many sincere remembrances to your dear parents. To -your dear sister, many hundred--what I would so willingly give you -again. - - J. W. G." - - -When she closed it, with a simple gesture she raised it to her lips and -kissed it tenderly; her face wore an expression of celestial calm, and -for a moment she sat with dreamy eyes, motionless, like one in a trance. -Then, rousing herself abruptly, and breaking forth into a song half -music and half laughter, she ran down the hill and home to the -parsonage, for a walk with Rahel or a romp with Goetz. - -Every day this joy was repeated, and nearly every day with the letter -came such unostentatious gifts as he dared send her. The girl grew -singularly meek and gentle under the softening influence of her -happiness. She was continually asking herself what she had done to merit -such a beautiful destiny, and her sole aim in his absence was to render -herself in some degree worthy of his love. - -Her parents could not find it in their hearts to endeavor to make her -look with more circumspection at the total transformation of her life. -Indeed, it was far from the honest pastor's wish to see her otherwise. -The mother could not repress many a gloomy foreboding in reflecting upon -the suddenness of the affection on either side, the youthfulness of -both, the inexperience and simplicity of her daughter, and the premature -worldly knowledge of the brilliant young man. But her husband had an -answer for every objection. - -"We must not forget, Kitty, in our zeal for our children's happiness, -the feelings of our own youth. How much longer had I known you before we -stole a march upon our elders? And, indeed, I cannot wonder at her -fancy; I never saw myself a likelier lad. He has a better idea to-day of -all that our house needs than Klug and Guédin together. Besides, though -he did change his character the second day he was with us, I have not a -doubt that he could fulfil his promise, and deliver a fair enough sermon -for me on week-days." - -"But it is not the assistance of a curate, Moritz, that you must put -into the scale with our darling's happiness." - -"Nay, wife; it is only as it influences my opinion of his abilities that -I speak. And where could you find a more creditable match for her? His -family is among the most respectable in Frankfort, and Waldstein bears -testimony enough to the soundness of his heart. No, Kitty, let things -run their own course. It has ever been my opinion that we elders -interfere something too much in these matters. We cannot make our -bleared old vision serve for these young people,--we see much that they -may be happily blind to all their lives, and I warrant they have a world -of wonderful sights around them that is closed to us. It is a miracle -that two young hearts should know each other at sight, and make each -other's sunshine for a lifetime, and yet it is a miracle that often -comes to pass; there is a wiser One than we who watches over all. And do -you know, Käthchen, when I look at our baby Alide's face now, I feel as -young myself as though I were once again wooing thee." And he smiled -with tears in his eyes, and kissed his wife's forehead. - -Many a time Alide tried to express to Goethe her joy and gratitude, but -nothing that she wrote could satisfy her, and it was with many -misgivings that she finally dispatched to him a letter. Even this, as -soon as it was fairly off, she would have recalled had it been possible. -She had not read it over, and had written it so rapidly that she had no -recollection of a single word it contained. The next morning, however, -all her fears were lost in the glad thought with which she awoke. "He -receives it to-day! How near we are together! It is almost as if I could -stretch out my hand and press his own there in Strasburg. Perhaps he -will come to me when he has read it!" And all day this idea gained in -strength upon her, until she had firmly convinced herself that she would -see him before night. She even told her sister that Goethe would be with -them that evening. - -"Oh, I am so glad!" cried Rahel. "And the Stockmars and the Hellers -coming to-morrow! But how do you know? Will Max be with him?" - -"One question at a time," said Alide, gently, who was a little startled -out of her visionary faith by her sister's eagerness. "I cannot answer -for Max, and Herr Goethe has not told me he would come; but I think he -will be here." - -"Oh, pshaw!" said Rahel. "It is one of your ridiculous fancies, Alide. I -do not believe a word of it." - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -IN STRASBOURG - - -Never before had Goethe found his varied occupations in the city so -wearisome as when he resumed them after his brief holiday at the -parsonage. Not long before, he had written to a friend that "for the -first time he knew what it was to be happy without his heart being -engaged. Pleasant people and manifold studies left him no time for -feeling. His life was like a sledge-journey, splendid and sounding, but -with just as little for the heart as it had much for eyes and ears." But -now all was different; he had hone of his previous animation to impart -to anything that he attempted. Perhaps had he been able to remain by -Alide's side, the fancy so suddenly enkindled would have burnt itself -out; but now that he was separated from her, it developed into an -absorbing passion which deprived him of all spirit for his ordinary -pursuits. Her every charm was infinitely magnified by distance and by -the most powerful of imaginations. He found himself forever contrasting -the tedium of this enforced absence with the blissful consciousness of -life and youth, and "that highest grace of love," which he had known in -her presence. He was obliged to renounce his sketching, for it gave his -mind too much scope to lose itself in idle reverie as he sat listlessly -before his canvas. At any other period of his life, his restlessness, -his longing, his depression, and his feverish excitement would have -found their surest and safest vent in composition,--in the production of -those inimitable songs, each one of which has crystallized a subtle, and -what had hitherto appeared an indescribable, condition or emotion of the -heart. But just now he had become the disciple of the cynical Herder, -who "had so spoiled his hopes and fancies respecting himself that he -began to doubt his own capabilities." This master "had torn down the -curtain which concealed from Goethe the poverty of German literature, -and had, ruthlessly destroyed many of his prejudices; in the sky of his -fatherland were but few stars of importance left, and the rest he was -now taught to regard as so many transient candle-snuffs." Thus there was -nothing left him but to pursue with diligence his serious studies. He -devoted himself to jurisprudence as assiduously as was required to take -his degree with credit, and he was able finally to interest himself in -medicine, because it "disclosed glimpses of Nature, if it did not reveal -her on every side." Moreover, he was attached to this science by -intercourse and habit. - -His appearance changed as conspicuously as his feelings. No one would -have recognized this pale, moping youth, as he pored over his books or -roused himself to attend a medical lecture or to study every form of -disease in the city hospitals, as the wild, buoyant lad who had -illustrated with his inspiriting presence and his inexhaustible gifts a -day of sunshine at the Duroc parsonage. In society he became so reserved -and indifferent that he acquired the nicknames of the "wolf" and the -"bear." It was no feeble sentiment that such a man could entertain, for -he threw the whole force of his passionate nature into all that -attracted and possessed him. He was literally consumed by this hidden -fire. One consolation indeed was his,--he could write to her daily, and -he could transport himself in imagination to her presence while thus -holding communication with her, or even while studying the sketches for -the alteration of her home. He busied himself with a thousand plans for -the improvement and embellishment of that beloved dwelling, with a -thousand fantastic decorations for her own room, and meantime he sent -her constantly a new book, a curious ornament, a rare engraving with -which to adorn it when all was completed. - -Once, and once only, did he receive a letter from her. He had never seen -her handwriting, and, coming as it did with half a dozen letters from -his family, the modest little missive was thrown carelessly aside until -he had read all the details of his home in Frankfort. Then he took it -up, vaguely wondering whence it could have come; but he had no sooner -broken the seal than the blood rushed into his face, and with a little -cry of joy he pressed it to his lips, and read it over and over long -after he could repeat it by heart. - -"My dear Herr Goethe," wrote Alide, "I have tried many times to write -you my thanks for all your goodness to me, for the precious tokens of -your affectionate remembrance which you have so constantly sent me, -since that happy day, now nearly a month ago, that you passed with us. -But everything looks so cold, almost curt, on paper, that I have not -dared to send you such poor scraps as I have written. Now, however, I -will not let you any longer think me so ungrateful, and I will not read -my letter over, so that I may find courage to send it. Besides, when I -remember how indulgent you are to me, how you seem to see clearly only -that which is genuine in one's heart, I am greatly reassured. Indeed, -you are already more like an old friend than many with whom I have been -all my life familiar. Do you know, Herr Goethe, that ever since that day -I have been as happy as one in a dream? In the morning I awake with a -light heart, and think, 'What, then, do I possess which I never knew -before?' and then with a great rush of joy it all comes upon me, and -with it the hopeful feeling that I shall see you soon again. I do not -grow impatient,--it seems to me that I could wait for centuries, knowing -that in the end my friend will surely come. Formerly I was hasty, -petulant, sometimes even rude; but now nothing vexes me, nothing can -come between me and this wonderful new happiness. But I did not mean to -write so much when I began. I only wished to thank you for all your -gifts, especially the 'Book of Songs,' and, above all, your letters. I -must not write again; but do not think of me as sad or impatient, or any -other than the happiest girl in the world. - - Alide Duroc." - -"November 5, 1770." - - -This cheerful letter imparted somewhat of its own joyousness to Goethe. -All day the words kept ringing in his ears with the sweet persistence of -some familiar melody. In the afternoon he went, according to his custom, -to the hospital, and with his respected instructor visited bed after -bed. His original disgust at the invalids had gradually subsided, for he -had learned to regard their various conditions as abstract ideas, -through which recovery and the restoration of the human form and nature -appeared possible. It was a singular anomaly for so young a man, and -especially one of his reputation, to devote himself so earnestly to such -a subject as this. To-day he seemed unusually pale and excited, and -there was a strange longing expression in his bright eyes. The professor -could not help regarding him with peculiar interest; he did not conclude -his lecture, as he was in the habit of doing, with some doctrine that -might have reference to some particular case of illness, but said, -cheerfully, "Gentlemen, there are some holidays before us; make use of -them to enliven your spirits. Studies must not only be pursued with -seriousness and diligence, but also with cheerfulness and freedom of -mind. Give movement to your bodies, and traverse the beautiful country -on horse and foot. He who is at home will take delight in that to which -he has been accustomed, while for the stranger there will be new -impressions and pleasant reminiscences for the future." - -Goethe thought he heard a voice from heaven. He knew very well that the -admonition was principally intended for himself, and he could have -embraced with gratitude his worthy old friend. He made all the haste he -could to order a horse and dress himself for his visit. He sent for Max, -who was nowhere to be found; but this did not detain him. However, the -necessary preparations went on slowly, and he could not depart so soon -as he wished. Fast as he rode, darkness overtook him. It was a wild, -windy night; only at intervals would the clear round face of the moon -break forth in transparent brilliancy between the jagged white clouds. -He dashed on like a madman, resolved not to wait until the morning to -see her. The exhilaration of the night wind, the large expanse of the -open meadows, the weird effects of light and darkness caused by the -constant interchange of cloud and moonshine, added to his relief at -finding himself once more outside the city-barriers and on the road to -his beloved, made his heart swell with a feeling of reckless delight -almost amounting to intoxication. He breathed freely, he took off his -hat to let the wild breeze blow full upon his face; he longed to shout -aloud as he careered along the familiar path. The clock was striking ten -as he entered the Drusenheim inn; he inquired of the landlord whether -there was yet a light in the parsonage, and was answered that the ladies -had only just gone home,--they had said they were expecting a stranger. -Goethe's heart fell; he had wished to be the only one; still, he might -hasten forward and, at any rate, be the first; and with this thought he -started upon his walk to the manse. - -As he passed through the gate he recognized the figures of the two girls -with their brother in the porch, just about to enter the house. They -turned at the sound of his footsteps in the garden-lane, and he fancied -he heard Alide whisper to Rahel, "Did I not say so? Here he is!" - -"Am I too late to bid you good-evening?" he called out, as he hastened -towards them. - -"No, indeed," answered the girls, eagerly; "we are just going in to -supper." And they both let him kiss their hands for welcome. Goethe -followed them at once into the house, only pausing in the hall to throw -off his heavy riding-cloak. They led him into the supper-room, where the -pastor and Madame Duroc were seated and a table was spread. As Rahel -looked at him in the light, she burst into a loud laugh, for she had -little command over herself. He wore a complete costume of black velvet -garnished with silver lace; the wind had reddened his cheeks, and blown -some of the powder out of his brown hair, giving it a soft gray color -that contrasted more conspicuously than pure white with his youthful -face. He was somewhat disconcerted by this odd reception, but the pastor -and his wife rose and greeted him like an old acquaintance; and then -Rahel, without the least embarrassment, said,-- - -"You must really pardon my laughing, Herr Goethe, but it is so comical, -when I think of Fritz's double and Dr. Julius Steck, to see you decked -out so finely this evening." - -He answered good-humoredly, and in a short time the conversation flowed -as freely as though he were already one of their family. - -As for Alide, she was perfectly content. It was enough to have him once -more in their midst; to feel that he made, if only for this one night, -part of their home-circle; to know that she had but to raise her eyes to -behold, in living reality, this face which for so long had been a -shadowy vision perpetually before her. She was like a child, delighting -to play little tricks with her happiness. While one of her family -talked, she would avert her head at times, and imagine that he was not -there, just for the thrill it gave her to hear his vibrant young voice -respond, or to turn suddenly and assure herself of his actual presence. -But her joyous fancies did not make her pensive or abstracted; she -entered with unwonted spirit into the conversation; her soft laughter -rippled gayly forth, the color mounted to her cheeks, her blue eyes -sparkled brilliantly. Her own family looked on in surprise at the -magical transformation of their quiet, reserved Alide. - -Finally they separated for the night. Goethe was disappointed at not -having been able to find a moment's opportunity to whisper a word in her -ear; but he soon fell asleep, with a feeling of profound satisfaction at -knowing himself once more under this beloved roof. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -HAPPINESS - - -The wind had subsided in the night, and one of those rare soft days that -belong to the golden weather called St. Martin's summer, shone from the -cloudless skies. A pale, blue-green haze overhung the earth; the breath -of the air had something indescribably caressing. If one had looked only -at the fresh verdure of the pasture-slopes, the dusky foliage of the -vineyards, or the brilliant bloom of the garden, it would not have been -difficult to fancy that the glory of the year was just developing; but -along the woodland paths, and in the despoiled orchard, the bare -branches and the crumpled brown leaves underfoot told a different tale, -and lent the pathetic grace of evanescence to the exquisite scene. Clear -and musical through the still atmosphere pealed the village church -bells; but after the noise of Strasburg every sound made music to -Goethe, as he walked by the side of Alide along the sweet fading fields, -with the Sabbath quiet in the air. They had much to tell each other, for -they now lived over together the days they had passed apart; now did -Alide confess that her heart had prophesied his coming, and now she -imparted to him her own serenity. The more familiar he became with this -white maiden-soul, the more was he astonished at the circumspect -cheerfulness, the naïveté combined with self-consciousness, the good -and lovable qualities which at every word revealed themselves. He could -discern, from the friendly greetings of the peasants whom they met, that -she was benevolent and promoted their comfort. How many hours of such -unalloyed happiness dare one promise one's self from life? And yet these -two filled this perfect moment by looking forward and backward. They -arranged their plans for the day, and decided how, among all the guests -and the various amusements, they would keep together in the dance and -the game. - -Though they walked slowly, with many loiterings by the road, they -reached the church all too soon for Goethe. The open joyousness of -Alide's face gave way to a decorous expression of seriousness as she -passed from the sunshine into the twilight of the sacred building. -Goethe, young as he was, had long since dissociated the sentiment of -religion from outward ceremony, and his thoughts and feelings underwent -no change when he found himself in the place of worship. They sat alone, -for Rahel and the mother were busied at home with preparations for their -other guests. The young man dreamed away in a strange trance the hours -of service; he was vaguely conscious of occasional bursts of music and -of the monotonous voice of the pastor, and after all was over he knew -that he had sat through a long sermon, of which he did not recollect a -single word. Now and then he gave a sudden furtive glance at his -companion. She did not seem to remember that he was beside her; her long -golden lashes rested upon her fresh cheek as she bent her eyes -constantly upon her prayer-book; her face was irradiated by a pure, -spiritual calm. Once only did she turn and look upon him, before the -sermon began, with an ineffable expression of tranquil joy beaming from -her eyes, and then again she was rapt in her own world of simple -devotion, with a dim fancy that he was following her, and that the pious -platitudes of her father were inspiring Goethe with the same celestial -satisfaction with which they nourished her. The pastor spoke of death -and suffering, but to her nothing was sad in this exalted hour: death -itself did not mean separation, but only closer and eternal union; and -what was suffering on earth with such a one to comfort and to be -comforted? - -But he was far from her world at this moment: his piercing intellect, -that had so early discerned the paradoxes of men's beliefs and broken -loose from the shackles of creed and dogma, was haunted by, a childish -superstition. He was overcome by the painful memory of the last time a -woman's lips had pressed his own, and had cursed him while they kissed. -He was no longer in the village church, where the pastor's voice went -droning on, and the country sounds of bird and insect came sleepily -through the open window that let in the blue sunbeams and the warm, -summer-like air. He was in the close, small room of his dancing-master, -where a few months ago the passionate, sibyl-like French girl had wound -her arms about his neck, thrust her long white fingers in his hair, -pressed her own black locks against his cheek, and, kissing him -repeatedly on the mouth, in a mad paroxysm of jealousy, cried out, "Woe -upon woe for ever and ever to her who kisses these lips for the first -time after me!" - -It all came back to him now; indeed, he had not forgotten it heretofore, -but he had without difficulty held himself aloof from women, for he was -pleased to imagine that such a consecration sanctified no less than -cursed his lips. It had even flattered his vanity to think that he had -some subtle power to injure, in an unheard-of spiritual manner, any -woman from whom he courted this favor, that may mean so much or so -little. But now he paused to free himself from the spell; he knew that -in the rural games that would be indulged in during the day he should in -all probability be required to claim the forfeit of a kiss from his -beloved, and he shuddered at the consequences of the harmless pastime, -and taxed his utmost ingenuity to devise some means of evasion. - -When the service was over, Alide rose with a visible benediction upon -her face; but Goethe remained anxious and subdued. An unutterable pity -and tenderness overcame him when he looked at her and thought that over -and above his own will, nay, in opposition to the most sacred instincts -of his heart, Fate working through him might injure, crush, or ruin this -exquisite creature. However, when they were once more in the fragrant -air of the open meadows, all morbid fears and presentiments passed from -his mind. With an impatient toss of his head he shook them from him, as -one might disperse a swarm of troublesome insects, and gave himself up -wholly to the enjoyment of the present. - -As they neared the parsonage, they saw the various guests enlivening -with their bright-colored costumes the garden and porch. "Ah, there is -dear Rosa Stockmar!" cried Alide. "I was so afraid she would not be with -us,--I am sure you will like her, Herr Goethe. That is she in blue, -standing under the apple-tree, with Rahel and Cousin Wilhelm. And there -are Joachim Heller and his sister Margaret, and in the porch stands Dr. -Braun. How pleasant that they should already have arrived!" - -With the charming self-possession of a simple nature, she entered the -gate with the stranger by her side, and welcomed them all heartily with -such frank interchanges of affection between cousins and old -acquaintances, as would have aroused her new friend's jealousy had they -not been given and taken with such innocent freedom. Then with equal -ease and grace she presented Herr Wolfgang Goethe, and in a few moments -the conversation was as lively and unrestrained as though they were a -bevy of life-long friends. - -"Let us go to my arbor," said Alide. "We shall be sheltered from the -sun, which is quite too warm for November; and, besides, I have ordered -my fairies to prepare a surprise for you there." - -They set out in high spirits for the arbor, Alide foremost with her -cousin Wilhelm, and Goethe with the merry Rosa Stockmar by his side. Now -he could contrast his sweetheart's refinement of beauty, breeding, and -nature with the provincial tone of her circle. Rosa was a gay, -bright-eyed little creature, of thoroughly plebeian type, and, though -there was nothing indecorous or even imprudent in her remarks and jests, -still, their unabashed freedom and familiarity wellnigh amounted to -coarseness. Almost immediately she began to rally her companion on his -interest in their young hostess. - -"I suppose you do not come from our parts," said she, scrutinizing him -openly; "for I have never seen you nor heard your name before. But there -is one thing I can answer for. You have never seen on either side of the -Rhine a sweeter girl than Alide Duroc. She is a perfect darling. Mamma -often tells me I am wrong to praise her so much, for I shall never -please where she is a favorite,--she is too stately and reserved. But, -pshaw! what do I care? What is in me, that will come out, and I have my -eyes well open. I know whom she has already pleased. Do you know what I -will do? We are to have plenty of games this afternoon; I suppose you -can play them, though you do look like His Highness's lord-in-waiting. -Well, I will warrant you, when we play jack's-a-light, to win a forfeit -from Alide, and you may ask for whatever you please. You don't look like -a lad who would let his chances slip through his fingers." - -Before Goethe could remonstrate, they had reached the crest of the -little hill, and found themselves in Alide's "Rest." Her "surprise" was -a luncheon spread in the middle of the grove; and the exclamations of -delight and admiration which broke from the guests rewarded her for the -pains she had bestowed on the tasteful decoration of her arbor. The meal -was enjoyed with the buoyant merriment of youth, and here, as elsewhere, -Goethe led the gayety. With song, jest, and anecdote he amused those -within hearing, and exhilarated all by the contagious example of his own -almost reckless spirits. Whatever he did, he did in earnest. It is this -faculty of great men which makes their simplest action fresh and -original; they are generous of their soul, they meet with abundant -vitality the demands of every hour, and thus shed a peculiar glory upon -whatever claims their regard. To have seen Goethe at such a moment as -this, one would have supposed him ambitious of no higher enjoyment than -that of a frolic or a festival; he was the veriest boy of the party in -liveliness and fun. And yet it needed no keen observer to perceive that -"nothing he did but smacked of something greater than himself," for the -magnetism of his personality bore as emphatically the impress of his -genius as anything durable that he has left behind. - -During the day and evening he succeeded skillfully in evading the -forfeit of a kiss from Alide, though his escape was rendered the more -difficult by the roguish interference of Rosa Stockmar and her -companions, who tried to force them together in order to be amused with -their confusion. The greater part of the day was spent in the open air, -and the soft sunshine, the transparent haze, the delicate purity of the -remote pale sky imperceptibly did their share towards filling with -joyful serenity these two youthful hearts just expanding into the -perfect blossom of love. The knowledge that each heart beat only for the -other sufficed to make the presence of all this merry company unreal as -any dream. The swift eyebeams interchanged, the pressure of a hand in -the game, the close embrace in the rapid waltz, made a mute, delicious -communication that satisfied them both for the time. - -After dinner, Goethe had been talking with the pastor about the old -gentleman's favorite theme, the rebuilding of the parsonage, and had -offered to prepare a ground-plan. Dr. Duroc, highly pleased, hurried off -at once to confer with the schoolmaster, so that the yard and foot -measure might be ready early on the morrow. At that moment Alide -hastened to Goethe's side. "How kind, how good you are," she said, "to -humor my dear father on his weak side!--not, like others, to get weary -of this subject, to avoid him, or to break it off. I must indeed confess -to you that the rest of us do not desire this building: it would be too -expensive for the congregation, and for us also. A new house, new -furniture! Our guests would not feel comfortable with us, now that they -are accustomed to the old building. Here we can treat them liberally; -there we should find ourselves straitened in a wider sphere. But do not -you fail to be agreeable. I thank you for it from my heart." - -On the following day the measurement of the house took place. It was a -slow proceeding, for Goethe was as little of an adept in the art as the -schoolmaster himself. At last he decided to return to Strasburg -immediately, to prepare more conveniently and deliberately the plan -which had occurred to him. The good father was delighted at the young -man's interest in the scheme, and granted permission to leave at once. -Alide herself dismissed him with joy; now that each felt certain of the -other's love, the six leagues seemed no longer any distance, and a -constant communication could be kept up through the diligence, -messengers, and letters. He therefore once more bade farewell, with the -promise of a speedy return, and, supported by a buoyant feeling of hope, -set forth on his journey to town. - -It was already dark when he reached his lodging, but the first thing he -did was to seat himself at his desk and draw as neatly as possible the -plan which he had conceived. When he had succeeded in sketching out a -tolerably good idea of the whole, he laid it aside with a sigh of -pleasure and satisfaction, and began a letter to Alide. It was late at -night before he could tear himself away from this charming occupation. -While he wrote, she seemed to be before him, brightening his dingy, -lamp-lit room with her own open-air atmosphere. He could not weary of -conjuring up in imagination the endowments of her beautiful nature and -nourishing the hope of seeing her soon again. Early the next morning -this letter was dispatched, with a little package of books, and his own -messenger brought back to him her answer of thanks and affection. Thus -for a few days the delicious nothings of love were transported between -these bewitched ones, annihilating space and time, and uniting them in -the closest communion of thoughts and feelings. There was no longer any -need of an address from his worthy medical instructor. Those words -spoken at the right time had so completely cured him of his morbid -desires that he had no particular inclination to see the professor or -the patients again. At the end of the week he received a letter from -Alide inviting him to a festival, for which some friends from the other -side of the Rhine were also coming, and begging him to make arrangements -for a long stay. This he did by packing at once a stout portmanteau on -the diligence, and in a few hours he was in her presence. - -She was standing in the centre of a noisy group of young people, holding -her arm upraised, while they tried to guess what she concealed in her -closed hand. He had not been announced, but she felt his presence as he -stood in the doorway. Her arm dropped by her side; "Wolfgang!" she -murmured under her breath, as she sprang forward to welcome him. But her -delight was saved from seeming conspicuous by the apparently equal -pleasure manifested on the part of all her family. "Papa, mamma, here is -our good friend Goethe!" cried Rahel, as she warmly pressed his hand, -while the pastor and his wife greeted him with the familiarity of an old -friend. - -"Who can he be?" "One would say they were all in love with him!" "Where -can he have come from?" were the whispered comments of the guests as -they saw their sport interrupted by this intruder. - -But soon the rich, resonant voice of Goethe was heard above them all. -"Do not let me interfere, my dear, kind friends, with your pleasure. It -is like coming home to find myself again in your happy circle; but, if -Madame Mamma and the young ladies will excuse me, I will retire at once -with you, Dr. Duroc, to show you the sketches I have brought, and with -your permission I will return soon and enter into the game." - -"What! already you have made these sketches? Impossible!" exclaimed the -delighted pastor. "You are a capital fellow! Come with me at once, and -we will look them over on the porch." And, resting his hand in a -fatherly manner on the young man's shoulder, he went with him from the -room. - -When he saw the beauty of the spotless parchment, with the bold yet -delicate lines traced upon it in accordance with his own dearest views, -he was quite beside himself with joy. - -"I see! I see!" he cried; "this is just such a plan as I would have -designed myself. Here indeed is the most beautiful result attained with -the greatest economy of means and combined with the highest utility. Ah, -my dear boy, what genius inspired you in sketching this plan? You will -one day be a great architect. But I stand and prate, instead of -exhibiting this exquisite piece of workmanship to our friends within. -Come back with me, and let me show it to them at once." - -Goethe had stood by, smiling with pleasure at his own success and at the -pastor's gratification, but he became serious at this, and interposed -hurriedly,-- - -"Nay, my good sir, I am afraid yonder merry folks are not just now in -the mood to examine my sketches carefully, and they might not concur in -your flattering estimate." - -"Tut, tut, child!" replied Dr. Duroc; "no false modesty! I think I know -a good thing when I see it. Come along with me." - -And with the sheets in one hand, and with the other gently drawing -Goethe by the wrist, he returned in high good humor to the room. The -game was just over, and the company were scattered about in little -groups, evidently expecting, like so many children, some new diversion -to be offered them. - -"My good people," said the host, as he led Goethe among them, "I am -proud to present to you my talented young friend Herr Wolfgang Goethe. -Only see what a specimen of his handiwork I have here to show you!" - -His visitors took little notice of Goethe's profound bow, but hastened -towards the library-table, curious to see what novel entertainment was -going forward. The young man, however, was no whit disconcerted, for a -reassuring smile from Alide, together with a deprecatory shrug of her -shoulders as she indicated by a cunning side-glance the other guests, -dispelled immediately any embarrassment which so brusque an introduction -and so ungracious a reception might have occasioned. - -"Look!" cried the simple pastor; "is not this just such a manse as you -would wish your vicar to dwell in?" And he unfolded sheet after sheet -and pointed out the various beauties and conveniences. But he met with -no sympathy on the part of his friends: knowing the work to be that of -so exceedingly young a man, whose name was, moreover, quite unfamiliar, -each one was anxious to cavil at every particular and thus display his -own superior knowledge. - -"These chimneys are quite out of date," said one: "they have been -superseded by a much better style." - -"The porch is entirely out of harmony with the rest of the building," -sneered another: "one might as well vault a Gothic arch over an Ionic -capital." - -"It is not possible to throw the stairs so far back," suggested the -wisest head of all. "It looks well on paper, but a very little practical -experience would have told him that it could not be carried into -effect." - -Goethe stood by in calm superiority, with a feeling of intense -amusement. It was as if he had no interest in the success of these -sketches which he had wrought out so diligently and with such admirable -skill. He was too happy in Alide's presence to entertain a moment's -anger, and he heard their rude and ignorant remarks with the unconcerned -critical pleasure with which he might have sat a spectator of one of -Molière's comedies. But Alide was flushed with shame and indignation at -the unmannerly behavior of her guests, no less than at their injustice -to this gifted, courteous, incomparable young man. She could not have -conceived that their opinions were not of the slightest account to him, -for this was all her world, and she longed to go forward to Goethe and -efface the painful impression with kind, encouraging words. - -As for the pastor, he assumed an odd expression of wonder and -bewilderment on hearing such unsparing censure of that which had to him -appeared so excellent. But all other feelings were absorbed in rage when -a pompous, officious, elderly man behind him, coolly taking a pencil -from his pocket, drew with a bold, free hand such coarse lines and marks -upon the clear white paper as irretrievably to destroy the symmetry of -the original design. - -"How dare you, sir?" cried the pastor, suffocated with anger and -disappointment. "How have you the insolence----" - -"Papa! papa!" interposed Rahel, trying to calm him. - -"Do not be so vexed, dear sir," said Goethe, quietly stepping forward. -"It is nothing, I assure you, that cannot be easily remedied. I am more -than indebted to this experienced gentleman for his generous -suggestions. In reality, sir, no harm is done. You know I told you these -were but the sketches from which the perfect drawings were afterwards to -be constructed; and I doubt not that I shall be able to devise something -far better on a second trial." - -"Yes, you are kind, you are generous," said the pastor; "but this is too -outrageous. Perhaps in a little while I may be able to forget it." And, -endeavoring to conceal his excited temper, he hastened from the room. - -Alide now advanced to Goethe, and, taking him frankly by the hand, she -thanked him aloud for his attention to her father and for his patience -under so great an annoyance. Just then the discomfited author of all -this mischief, who had erred only through ignorance, mustered sufficient -courage to step up to them both, and earnestly begged Goethe's pardon -for the vexation he had caused him. Goethe was only too glad to accept -his excuses, and thus in a few moments perfect harmony was restored. - -"Do you not recognize Raymond and Melusina?" whispered Alide, as the -repentant mar-feast retired. "It is Herr Bernard, and that dainty little -creature in the corner is his wife. We call her Melusina ever since you -read to us in the summer-house." - -Thus he was flattered by seeing the impression his ideas had already -made on this circle, of which he had yet seen so little. His words were -treasured, his thoughts were adopted, his least action was rendered -significant by the importance it assumed in these indulgent eyes. - -The remainder of the day was spent with still more gayety and pleasure -than the last Sunday he had passed by the side of Alide. Without effort, -he succeeded in imparting additional zest and vivacity to every pastime -and heightening every frolic by many a comical choice. His unbounded -happiness made him even more than usually talkative, merry, ingenious, -forward; and yet he was kept in moderation by esteem and attachment. She -on her part was open, sympathizing, cheerful, and communicative. They -both appeared to live for the company, and yet lived only for each -other. After dinner they went outside, for the season was particularly -mild and genial, and sought the shade, where social games were begun. On -redeeming the forfeits, everything was carried to excess. The gestures -which were commanded, the acts which were to be done, the problems which -were to be solved, all showed a mad joy that knew no limits. Alide shone -by many a droll thought; she appeared to Goethe more charming than ever. -All superstitious, hypochondriacal fears vanished, and when the -opportunity offered of heartily kissing one whom he loved so tenderly, -he did not miss it, nor deny himself a repetition of the pleasure. - -After the games, one of the party succeeded in hunting up a couple of -village musicians, and a waltz was enjoyed in the meadow. The national -dance known as the "Allemande" had superseded all others, and in this -their young limbs and light hearts did not tire. It was Alide's favorite -amusement, and she was delighted to find in Wolfgang a graceful, expert -partner. Again and again they waltzed together, losing sight of all -prudent considerations in the exhilaration caused by the lively -movement, the close embrace, the whispered words that thrilled through -either's soul, the intoxicating freedom of the fresh mountain-air, the -elastic earth beneath, and the boundless horizon around. - -There was an interlude in the music, and he led her some distance from -the company to a rustic seat that had been built in a circle around the -colossal trunk of an oak-tree. She was not red and breathless like the -others; the fluttering of her heart was more evident in the increased -brilliancy of her eyes than in the scarcely-perceptible flush that -heightened the natural rose of her cheeks. Under the almost transparent -ruffles of her white stomacher, he could see the purer warm white of her -soft neck rise and fall with somewhat quickened palpitations, but -outwardly she was as calm as though she had not taken part in the waltz. -For this delicate, supple creature, motion was as easy and natural as -rest. - -Just as she took her seat, Rahel, who had followed them with her eyes, -advanced hurriedly and whispered in her sister's ear, loud enough to be -heard by Goethe, "Everybody is remarking you; mamma is greatly -displeased, and we all advise you to go no further in this wild manner." -So saying, she ran away to rejoin her companions. Alide looked up at -Goethe with the troubled, frightened expression of a child who appeals -for a caress no less than for protection. Her eyes were brimming with -tears, her cheeks glowing with pain and shame. He took the dear little -flower-face between both his hands, and, bending over her, kissed -tenderly the pouting lips. "My darling, I love you: is not that enough?" -The wistful mouth broke into a radiant smile, though the dim moisture of -the eyes gathered into two lustrous, happy tears that quivered upon the -lashes. Gently she disengaged herself from the clasp of his hands, and, -with a little sigh of peaceful joy, rested her head in silence upon his -breast. - -For a moment neither spoke or moved, save that the caressing fingers of -Goethe stroked softly the warm, wavy gold above her brow. He was the -first to break the stillness. - -"I know that I am foolish, sweetheart; your loving kindness, your tender -confidence, these are much, far more than I deserve, and yet my heart -hungers in this silence to hear you utter such words as I have spoken." - -She broke from his embrace, clasped her hands together, and, upturning -to him a countenance so transfigured and exalted by love that he would -scarcely have known it for that of the child who had reposed on his -breast, whispered, passionately, "I love you--I love you--I love you!" -And, almost falling from her seat, she hid her burning face in her -hands. - -"That is my own Alide; how can I thank you?" he said, soothingly, as -with indescribable tenderness he withdrew her hands and kissed them -gratefully. Then, slipping one quietly through his arm, he went on: -"Rise, my betrothed; we will take a walk through the meadows; the fresh -air will cool your flushed cheeks, and we shall be able to meet once -more with composure our friends." - -She obeyed, though her slight frame trembled as she leaned upon his arm. -But it was only the excitement of the first few moments that wrought -such a powerful effect upon her sensitive temperament She was soon -quieted into her ordinary calmness, and even her lively flow of spirits -was restored, as she walked with him across the sunset fields. Long and -slender before them their shadows fell upon the bronzed grass that -basked in the last rich glow of the autumn sunset. A narrow bar of -purple cloud rested motionless in the green clearness of the western -sky; it was the only vapor in that sweep of ethereal brilliancy from -east to west. So these two sauntered amid the gorgeous panorama of earth -and cloud and sky, carrying within their own hearts the very fire of -heaven. - -The daylight had faded, and moon and stars were rising, as they rejoined -their companions at the parsonage. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -AFTER-THOUGHTS - - -Throughout the evening the extravagant gayety of the merry party -continued. At supper, people did not return to their sober senses; -dancing went on far into the night, and there was as little want of -healths and other incitements to drinking as at noon. Amid a great deal -of boisterous mirth, the last good-nights were exchanged after midnight, -and the guests conducted to their various apartments. Alide was tripping -through the silent hall, when she heard her name uttered in a suppressed -voice, and, turning round, she saw her mother standing at her own door, -beckoning to her to come in. She obeyed swiftly and noiselessly: -preoccupied with joyous thoughts, she did not remark the serious, almost -sad, expression of her mother's face. - -"I have a word to say to you before you sleep," said Madame Duroc, -seating herself on a couch and motioning Alide to a low bench at her -feet. "I am afraid I must give you pain," she went on, gently caressing -the golden little head at her knees. "I had thought to keep you still a -child for awhile yet with me; but no, to-night I must speak to you as a -woman, and let you know the grave significance of a life that has -already begun in earnest. Alide, your conduct to-day has been very -displeasing to me: beyond the limits of decorum and of courtesy to your -old friends, you have evinced your preference for this young man Goethe, -who has ingratiated himself so suddenly into your father's heart and -into our family circle. It is now only a little over a month that you -have known him; you are not giddy or thoughtless like some of your -companions, but you are infatuated by the charm of his appearance and -address. A word is sufficient, my child, for one so sensible and docile -as you. Let this day be the last that you distinguish this stranger by -so much kindness. Your fancy has been kindled, your imagination excited; -but go to your room, examine yourself duly, pray to your heavenly Father -for guidance and discretion, and try to stifle at once so vain a -sentiment before it develops into something that may occasion a -life-trouble." - -She paused, but Alide did not stir or speak: she was conscious of a -strange sort of double existence as she sat with her head buried in her -mother's lap; she was the happy, fortunate Alide, Goethe's beloved, and -she was the wayward child to be reproved and guided by the warning words -of her elders. Seeing her so still, Madame Duroc was alarmed lest the -effect of a reprimand had been too harsh upon such a sensitive -temperament. - -"Alide," she whispered, tenderly, "do not be so much overcome. I have -only spoken now because I did not wish to leave it too late; nothing is -lost as yet." - -"Oh, mamma," said Alide, upturning suddenly a face neither blushing nor -tearful, but smiling, trustful, and composed, "you are very, very good -to me, but you do not understand: it is not shame that I feel, it is -pride and joy and happiness. I love him!" - -"My child, you do not know what you are saying!" cried Madame Duroc; -"you do not know what those words mean. You cannot realize what disgrace -it is for one of our sex to take the initiative in such a matter as -this. You have not recognized his power, my poor, confiding child; the -whole world is open to one of his force and genius. He will despise the -choicest gifts your simple heart can proffer him; he will----" - -"Oh, mamma, hush!" interrupted Alide, springing to her feet. "It is you -who do not know him, who do not know me: we are already betrothed." - -"Betrothed!" exclaimed Madame Duroc, sinking back in her seat. - -"Do not be angry, dear, good mamma," said Alide, kneeling before her and -taking both her hands affectionately. "He was to tell you himself -to-morrow. We had arranged it all, and I should not have spoken now, but -I could not help it. It is much better to avoid from the beginning all -misunderstandings and mistakes, is it not?" - -Madame Duroc made no answer, but silently folded her daughter to her -breast, and kissed repeatedly the soft white brow. "Since it is thus," -she said, at last, "may you be blessed!" And Alide felt a scalding tear -drop upon her cheek. - -"Ah, you are harassed after a tiresome day, dear mamma," said she, -caressingly. "It is late now; I wish I could have waited till to-morrow -to tell you; it is not possible in this dim room, at this melancholy -hour, to realize so much light and joy cast on one's whole life. Oh, -mamma, what a noble son you will see in him to-morrow, in the cheerful -daylight! and how you will rejoice with me in my beautiful destiny!" - -An hour later, Alide was sleeping profoundly and dreamlessly after the -excitements of this wonderful white day. But Frau Duroc's pillow was -stained with tears pressed painfully from wakeful eyes. Her mind was -possessed with gloomy forebodings: the mother-heart was yearning in the -darkness after the darling of the nest, so suddenly and irrevocably -flown. - -As for Goethe, he, like Alide, outwearied by such strong emotions, had -fallen at once into a deep, refreshing slumber; but scarcely had he -slept thus for a few hours when he was awakened by a heat and tumult in -his blood. Stretched out, defenseless as he was, his imagination now -presented to him the liveliest forms. Excited by love and passion, wine -and dancing, his thoughts raged in confusion, and his feelings were -tortured into a state of despair. He was thoroughly, keenly awake,--what -apparition was this standing by his bedside? The French girl, Lucinda, -clad in black, with night-black hair, glowing cheeks, sparkling eyes, -and passionate gestures, slowly receding from him. His lips were still -afire from her ardent kiss, her shrill imprecation rang painfully in his -ears, "Woe upon woe for ever and ever!" as she pointed with her long -thin finger opposite to her, where stood Alide, pale, motionless, with -her fair, disheveled locks waving about her white-robed form, -outstretching her arms towards him in piteous supplication, feeling the -consequences of the curse, and yet ignorant of their cause. Between -these two, he lay trembling in every limb, as little able to ward off -the spiritual effects of the adventure as to avoid the evil-boding kiss. -Yes, he had harmed irretrievably the dearest of beings,--the spell had -not been broken; far from having freed himself from the curse, it was -flung back from his lips into his heart. He sprang up in bed, and looked -wildly about him. The illusion vanished, but he could not calm the fever -of his blood, that boiled and throbbed in his veins. The myriad possible -results of his passion presented themselves to him in such sombre colors -as utterly to preclude the chance of sleep or repose for the remainder -of the night. He saw this exquisite maiden whom he loved so tenderly, -ruined, deflowered, dead. Could it be possible, he mused, that despite -the energy of will, the passionate vitality, the comprehensive intellect -with which Fate had endowed him, she nevertheless had made him her -creature, her football, to such a degree as to impel him along to this -preordained end, notwithstanding his most resolute efforts towards the -opposite direction? And why had this innocent, beautiful girl, formed so -perfectly for happiness, been selected as the victim? Or again, what -purpose was he destined to accomplish so lofty and so necessary that -such elements as these, the life, the love, the happiness of human souls -like his own, should be cast into his hands, to mould as he pleased? -Bah! that was the privilege of the gods: to what blasphemy were his -reckless thoughts leading him? - -Fortunately, daylight peeping in through a chink of the shutter, and the -sun stepping forth and vanquishing all the powers of night, put an end -to his mad fancies. He was soon in the open air, and refreshed if not -restored. The sight of Alide, the feeling of her love, the cheerfulness -of everything around him, all reproved him, that in the midst of the -happiest days he could harbor such dismal night-birds in his bosom. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -QUIET PLEASURES - - -As the winter approached, Goethe was obliged to pass the greater part of -his time in the city, though, to say the truth, he was there as much -absorbed by the image of Alide as while he remained in her presence. -Thus he availed himself of every conceivable pretext to ride over to the -parsonage, to pass the long, pleasant evenings in that happily-united -circle, and return through the frosty red dawn to his occupations in -Strasburg. The joyous Christmas festival, celebrated with so much quaint -and picturesque ceremony in Germany, afforded him the opportunity for an -unusually prolonged visit. They enjoyed together all the healthy winter -pastimes, no less varied than the sports of milder seasons; the long, -rapid drives and rides over the frozen ground, or in sledges through the -snowy fields, the merry skating adventures upon the ponds in the -vicinity, and the cheerful evenings in the snug inclosure of the -library, where all the family gathered around the blazing logs of the -great open hearth and listened to him unweariedly while he read aloud or -recounted to them many a winter's tale. - -The affair was allowed to take its course without the question being -directly asked as to what was to be the result. The parents thought -themselves compelled to let the young folks continue for awhile in a -wavering condition, with the hope that accidentally something might be -confirmed for life, better perhaps than could be produced by a -long-arranged plan. It was believed that perfect confidence could be -placed both in Alide's sentiments and in Goethe's rectitude, of which, -on account of his forbearance even from innocent caresses, a favorable -opinion had been entertained. The little birds in his heart began to -sing once more; he was able to give rhythmical expression to his -happiness, and with his letters he would frequently send such verses as -were the natural outpouring of his ethereal fancies and ardent longings. -Painted ribbons had just then come into fashion: he amused himself with -designing the most fantastic and poetical devices on a few silken strips -of blue and lilac and white. These he accompanied with the following -stanzas: - - - Tiny leaflets, tiny flowers, - Lightly from thy fingers fling, - Waving on the airy ribbon, - Young and kindly god of Spring. - - Waft it on thy wings, O Zephyr, - Twine it round my sweetheart's gown. - Let her step before the mirror, - Laughing as she looketh down, - - Sees herself with roses girdled, - Fresh as any rose, the maid. - Grant me but one glance, my darling, - And I am enough repaid. - - Trust the love my heart that filleth, - Frankly give thy hand to me. - May the bond between us, dearest, - No slight band of roses be! - - -As soon as the spring had fairly set in, he made preparations for a -prolonged stay at the parsonage. They now passed quietly and pleasantly -several weeks in each other's society. The habit of being together -became more and more confirmed, and nothing was known save that Goethe -belonged to this circle. They were left unobserved, as was generally the -custom there and then, and it depended only on themselves to go over the -country with a larger or smaller party and visit the friends in the -neighborhood. On both sides of the Rhine, in Hagenau, Fort Louis, -Philippsburg, and the Ortenau, Goethe found dispersed such persons as he -had seen united at Sesenheim, every one by himself a friendly, -hospitable host, throwing open kitchen and cellar just as willingly as -garden and vineyard. - -The islands of the Rhine were often a goal to their water-expeditions. -There, without pity, they put the cool inhabitants of the clear river -into the kettle, or the spit, or into the boiling fat, and would -perhaps, more than was reasonable, have settled themselves in the snug -fishermen's huts, if the abominable Rhine-gnats had not, after some -time, driven them away. At this intolerable interruption of one of their -most charming parties of pleasure, when everything else was prosperous, -when the affection of the lovers seemed to increase with the good -success of the enterprise, and they had nevertheless come home too soon, -unsuitably and inopportunely, Goethe, actually in the presence of the -good pastor, broke out into blasphemous expressions, and assured him -that the gnats alone were sufficient to remove the thought that a good -and wise Deity had created the world. The pious old gentleman, by way of -reply, solemnly called him to order, and explained that these gnats and -other vermin had not arisen until after the fall of our first parents; -or that if there were any of them in Paradise, they had only pleasantly -hummed and had not stung. The impetuous youth was calmed at once, for an -angry man is easily appeased when he is forced to smile; but he -nevertheless asserted that there was no need, in such case, of an angel -with a burning sword to drive the guilty pair out of the garden, for -this must have been effected by means of great gnats on the Tigris and -the Euphrates. The simple old man laughed in his turn, for he could -understand a joke, or, at any rate, let one pass. - -However, the enjoyment of the daytime and season in this noble country -was always serious and elevating to the heart. Goethe had only to resign -himself to the present, to enjoy the clearness of the pure sky, the -brilliancy of the rich earth, the mild evenings, the warm nights, by the -side of his beloved, or in her vicinity. For weeks together they were -favored with pure, ethereal mornings, when the sky displayed itself in -all its magnificence, having watered the earth with superfluous dew; -and, that this spectacle might not become too simple, clouds after -clouds piled themselves over the distant mountains, now in this spot, -now in that. They stood for days, nay, for weeks, without obscuring the -clear sky; and even the transient storms refreshed the country and gave -lustre to the green, which again glistened in the sunshine before it -could become dry. The double rainbow, the two-colored borders of a dark -gray and nearly black streak in the sky, were nobler, more highly -colored, more decided, but also more transient, than the artist had ever -before observed. - -In the midst of these objects, Goethe's desire for poetizing again came -forward, and he composed for Alide several songs to well-known melodies, -which might have made a pretty little book. Many an hour did he pass by -her side at the harpsichord, hearing his own words caroled forth -melodiously from her beloved lips, while she, for her part, strove to -dedicate all the fire and poetry of her nature to the proper -interpretation of his inspired productions. - -The resources of his wit, liveliness, and spirits were never at an end. -At the same time that he proved in countless ways his sincere and ardent -attachment to Alide, he succeeded in making himself the object of the -enthusiastic admiration and the warmest friendship of all her family and -circle. Even the wary mother consented to throw aside, as a weak -selfishness more akin to the pride of appropriation than to -disinterested affection, the misgivings and suspicions which she had at -first entertained. It was impossible to resist the frank generosity and -gentleness of his heart, combined as they were with so winning an -exterior, so profound an intelligence, and so brilliant and versatile a -genius. - -That he might fulfil and even go beyond his promise to the pastor, of a -new and elaborate plan for the manse, he persuaded a young adept in -architecture to work instead of himself. Thus the ground-plan sketch and -section of the house were soon completed; court-yard and garden were not -forgotten; and a detailed but very moderate estimate was added. These -testimonials of his friendly endeavors obtained the kindest reception; -and now the good father, seeing that Goethe had the best will to serve -him, came forward with one wish more,--this was to see his pretty blue -garden-chair adorned with flowers and other ornaments. Goethe showed -himself accommodating, and prevailed upon Alide and Rahel, who were both -clever with the brush, to lend a hand in the pleasing task. Colors, -pencils, and other requisites were fetched from the tradesmen and -apothecaries of the nearest town. They worked upon it always in the open -air, and succeeded in decorating it with the most delicate devices. They -were standing one morning in the sunshine, admiring the last strokes of -their handiwork, when the gate was opened and a visitor advanced towards -the house. It was Max Waldstein, who was rarely able to leave his -studies, though the bond between himself and Rahel was now a solemnly -acknowledged betrothal. After the exchange of merry greetings, he was -called upon to admire the painted chair. - -"It is quite a masterpiece, I declare," he cried; "and you must have -been pretty diligent, for I see that before any of it has had time to -dry the whole is finished. Did you begin this morning?" - -"You unappreciative man!" exclaimed Rahel, indignantly. "It represents -the labor of a fortnight." - -Goethe and Alide stood contemplating their work with an odd puzzled -expression. - -"Why, then, look here," said practical Max, with a hearty laugh, as he -gently pressed the tip of his finger against the bright leaves and -withdrew it stained with the fresh green paint. "My intellectual young -friend Wolfgang has forgotten that he must varnish his colors to make -them fast. Or stay, I see what it is; you have bought the wrong sort of -varnish, and your chair will never dry! If the dear old pastor takes his -ease in this, he will exhibit a quaintly embroidered coat in his pulpit -on Sunday." - -The artists looked at one another for a moment with crest-fallen -countenances, but finally Goethe broke into the jolliest laugh. "Why, -this is a veritable Wakefield mistake!" he cried. "Let us make the best -of it, dear friends: since the varnish cannot be changed now, let us -first try to dry our exquisite designs with fire, sun, rain, -wind,--every element under heaven. Then, if the worst comes, who knows -but we may have as merry a time rubbing off our colors as we have -already had in laying them on?" - -But neither sunshine nor draught, neither fair nor wet weather, was of -any avail. Meantime, they were obliged to make use of an old -lumber-room, and nothing was left but to efface the ornaments with more -assiduity than they had painted them; and the unpleasantness was -increased by finding that, after the operation, even the original -ground-color could not be restored to its former brilliancy. Goethe did -not fail to take the lesson to heart, seeing that the artist may become -so absorbed in the ideal portion of his work as totally to ignore the -practical and useful foundations on which alone any substantial fabric -of beauty can be reared. The young philosopher was willing to bear -good-humoredly the twits and jests of the whole family, in consideration -of impressing upon his memory so important a maxim. - -By such trifling disagreeable contingencies, however, which happened at -intervals, they were as little interrupted in their cheerful life as Dr. -Primrose and his amiable family, for many an unexpected pleasure befell -both themselves and their friends and neighbors. Weddings and -christenings, the erection of a building, an inheritance, a prize in the -lottery, were reciprocally announced and enjoyed. They shared all joy -together like a common property, and wished to heighten it by mind and -love. It was not the first nor the last time that Goethe found himself -in families and social circles at the very moment of their highest -bloom, and he contributed not a little to the lustre of such epochs. - -It was the middle of May when he decided to return to Strasburg. He had -originally been sent there to gain a doctor's degree. On his departure -from Frankfort he had promised his father, and resolved within himself, -to write a dissertation; and he was now determined to set about this -task in earnest. He had indeed begun it before his first visit to the -parsonage; but his sudden passion and the poetical visions which it -inspired had driven from his head all practical matters. He himself -reckoned it as one of the irregularities of his life that he treated -this material business as a mere collateral affair. It is the fault of -those who can do many things, he said, that they trust everything to -themselves. He had pretty well acquired a survey of the science of -jurisprudence and all its frame-work; but he felt well enough that he -lacked an infinite deal to fill up the legal commonplaces which he had -proposed. The proper knowledge was wanting, and no inner tendency urged -him to such subjects. Indeed, quite another science, medicine, had -completely carried him away. - -Before Goethe left the parsonage, he wrung from Alide and Rahel their -consent to make their long-talked-of visit to Strasburg. The Durocs were -related to some families in the city of good note and respectability and -comfortably off as to circumstances. Their cousins the Burkhardts were -often at Sesenheim. The older persons, the parents and aunts, being less -movable, heard so much of the life there, of the increasing charms of -the daughters, and even of Goethe's influence, that they first wished to -become acquainted with him; and after he had visited them they desired -to see all the family together, especially as they thought they owed the -Sesenheim folks a friendly reception in return. There was much -discussion on all sides: the mother could scarcely leave her household -duties; Rahel had a horror of the town, for which she was not fitted; -and Alide had no inclination for it. Thus the affair was put off until -it was brought to a decision by Goethe's enforced departure, and his -assertion that it would be impossible for him to come again into the -country; for all agreed that it would be better to see each other in the -city, and under some restraint, than not to see each other at all. - -No formal betrothal in the presence of witnesses had taken place, and -yet the pastor gave Goethe his blessing, the mother kissed his brow at -parting, as though he were already their son; and it was considered -quite natural that he bade Alide farewell affectionately as a lover -should. He set off in high spirits, with a heart at rest in his bosom -and a mind already alert for the active duties that he must accomplish -before he could again indulge in holiday pleasures. - -For Alide, as she turned back into her home, it was as if the light had -been blotted from the day, the spirit of life had departed from the -household. There was a heavier sadness in her heart than the brief term -of separation warranted, and she saw a dismal omen wherever her eyes -fell. But her sanguine temperament rebounded soon into its accustomed -cheerfulness and gayety. She succeeded in dispelling the cloud of -oppression that had overhung her, as a wrong to herself, a wrong to him. -She resolved in his absence to realize the lofty ideal of life which he -had inculcated; though, to say the truth, he had but put it into words -for her, for she had always animated the v hole family circle with the -natural liveliness of her admirably-tempered disposition. One could not -behold the glad serenity of her countenance, which seemed like a finer, -more ethereal grace superadded to her physical beauty, without fancying -her a creature born and nurtured for happiness. The rare capacity for -enjoyment was here in the highest degree developed. The subtle feminine -faculty was hers of resting content in the conscious possession of a -great joy. One could sooner imagine her gently withdrawn from existence -in the flush of youthful love and beauty, than estranged from the -brightness and hilarity which formed so essential a part of herself. -What harm could befall one so delicately constituted that the first -rough shock of distress or calamity would, in all probability, snap the -frail link between body and spirit and set free the immortal soul of -joy? - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -IN THE SHADOW OF THE CATHEDRAL - - -It was a foggy day in early June, with occasional heavy showers of rain, -when Madame Duroc and her daughters set out on their journey to -Strasburg. The pastor could not leave his parish-duties to accompany -them, so he drove with them over to the Drusenheim inn, and, after -seeing them comfortably seated in the diligence, with many an -affectionate embrace and injunction to take care of themselves and each -other, he bade them Godspeed. It seemed like a flat, level country -across which the diligence was painfully dragged by the steaming horses, -for the majestic shapes of the mountains were lost in the fog which -clung to their summits and sides. Rahel was nervous and excited at the -thought of all that would be expected of her in the city, and irritated, -moreover, by the unpleasantness and tedium of the drive through the -rain, when a little sunshine would have made it a charming excursion. -But Alide was satisfied with a glimpse now and then through the torn -cloud-curtain of meadow, hill, or leafy wood: she had learned every -curve and landmark of the road since Wolfgang had been going constantly -back and forth. There was even an agreeable mystery about the dense -vapor which encompassed them, and she felt as though she were traveling -to an enchanted city that would gradually shape itself out of the mist. - -There were no passengers besides themselves in the coach, and their -mother entertained them with descriptions of the city as she remembered -it in her youth, before the Alsatian customs had given way to French -innovations. "Well, we are nearing it now," cried Alide. "See, there are -the gardens and the public walks. Ah! one can hardly hear one's own -voice over these rough stones." And she was forced to keep silence as -the lumbering vehicle rattled through the noisy lanes. They passed long -rows of irregular houses, squares, shops, markets, and churches, with at -intervals a glimpse, from the most unexpected corners, of the solemn -Minster, until finally the diligence was brought up in the court-yard of -a hotel. - -"I do not see the Burkhardts anywhere," said Rahel, peering anxiously -from the window. - -"I will take you to your cousins. Welcome, welcome to Strasburg, dear -friends!" cried a well-known voice at the door, and Goethe stood ready -to help them alight. - -"I hope you have not been wearied, Frau Mamma, by your drive through -this dismal weather. Your girls bring the sunshine along with them. Ah, -if you knew how I have looked forward to this day!" And he gazed frankly -and ardently into Alide's eyes. - -He carried their cloaks and valises across the hotel-yard as he led them -to the carriage which was awaiting them. Fräulein Burkhardt sprang from -within as she saw them approach; she welcomed her kinswomen gracefully -and affectionately, apologizing for the absence of her mother, whose -uncertain health had forbidden her venturing out in this wet weather. "I -am a thousand times obliged to you, Herr Goethe!" she cried, in her -shrill, thin voice, as the carriage rolled away. "We shall expect you -this evening." - -Anna Burkhardt was a short, slim girl, whose narrow peaked face, with -its almost imperceptible lips, long, sharp nose, and prominent chin, -might have belonged to an old woman had it not been relieved by a fresh, -young complexion, more delicately colored than those of her cousins, -young, brown, inexpressive eyes, and a profusion of soft brown hair. Her -feet were small, but it was only owing to the skill of her bootmaker -that they appeared well shaped; and her thin, veiny hands had no beauty -when ungloved, save that of numerous sparkling rings. And yet few people -considered her either plain or unattractive: her manners were so suave, -so graceful, so exquisitely refined, that they formed a charm and a -beauty in themselves. Small in stature and insignificant in appearance -as she was, these gave her presence a peculiar dignity and importance. -Beneath this polished surface there was no generous warmth in the blood; -a naturally envious and even spiteful disposition was concealed under -the bland exterior of a precocious woman of the world, and an unerring -tact served for all her purposes as a substitute for culture and -intelligence. Perhaps it was owing to the fact that her mother had long -been an invalid and had intrusted to Anna the entire direction of the -household, that the girl had lost all the simplicity of her age; but, be -this as it might, her graceful, high-bred, worldly-wise personality found -more admirers than many a fresher and prettier girl. Poor, blundering -little Rahel, with her delicately-chiseled face and picturesque -coloring, found it difficult to shine beside this almost homely cousin -of hers; and yet if any one could have put her at her ease, by covering -her mistakes, ignoring her confusion, and endeavoring to make her appear -to advantage, it would have been Anna Burkhardt. But Rahel was beyond -the reach of help: she persisted in seeing only an additional -discouragement in the easy grace and tact of Anna's bearing, and in the -end her friendliest well-wishers found that the kindest mode of -treatment with her was to leave her alone and let her stumble along as -well as she was able. - -The second daughter, Margaret, was strikingly contrasted with her -sister: she was entirely without Anna's winning courtesy, and indeed was -condemned by most of the matrons of her society as having "no manners." -She was scarcely prettier than Anna, and yet she was still more admired. -She had a charming little blonde head and a transparent, colorless -complexion; but there her beauties ended: her face was distinctly German -in its contour, her mouth large, her nose broad and upturned, and in -figure she was nearly as short as Anna, though fuller and better -proportioned. She was bright, amusing, and if not precisely witty, yet -an unabashed candor and naïveté lent her conversation a certain -piquancy of its own. At the first glance it would have been almost -impossible to believe that she was not a pretty girl: she looked as if -she had stepped out of a picture. Unlike Anna, she wore the simplest -things; there were no jewels upon her pretty, plump hands, and her -small, fine ears remained unpierced; and yet every detail of her -costume, more than coquettish, was actually artistic. With such natural -advantages as either Alide or Rahel possessed, how would these shrewd -city-girls, who knew how to turn everything to account, have -distinguished themselves in the circle to which they were born! And -nevertheless, beside them, their beautiful country cousins seemed almost -devoid of attractions. - -Now was Goethe to find his fair friends whom he had been accustomed to -see only in a rural scene, and whose image had appeared to him hitherto -only before a background of waving boughs, flowing brooks, nodding -wild-flowers, and a horizon open for miles,--now was he to find them for -the first time in town rooms, which indeed were spacious in themselves, -but narrowed by furniture, carpets, curtains, glasses, and porcelain -figures. It had a singular effect upon him when he entered the Burkhardt -drawing-room early in the evening of the Durocs' arrival. Alide, whom -his eyes first sought and found, seemed unfamiliar, almost strange, in -this uncongenial atmosphere; her surroundings appeared to render -commonplace everything about her which had before struck him as -eminently becoming and poetical. Something incongruous offended his -artistic sense as he beheld this simply-clad country-girl, with her one -long golden braid falling down her back like the bourgeoises in the -street, and her high-heeled little boots and silver-clocked red -stockings plainly to be seen under her scant furbelow, while around her -were grouped the pale, delicate, elegant town-ladies in their flowing, -silky French gowns, harmonizing perfectly with the luxurious -appointments of the room itself. With his lively feeling for everything -present, he could not at once adapt himself to the contradiction of the -moment. All this, however, was but a flash through his mind when he -first caught sight of her; for when she rose with graceful, unconcealed -pleasure to receive him, as composedly as she would have done in her own -house, she was again his sweetheart and his pride. As he bent and kissed -her ungloved hand, she did not see, and she would not have understood, -the burning blush that tingled in his cheeks. "Dear friend," she -murmured, innocently, "what a joy it is to be once more together!" He -did not speak, but as he raised his head his loving eyes gave sincere -and eloquent response. - -Several guests were expected besides himself, though he was the first to -arrive: they were to have a dance and a supper, and in the interval were -to entertain themselves, after the approved city fashion, with -conversation alone. Rural games and the myriad resources of country life -were of course quite out of the question, and Rahel for one knew not how -to fill up the gaps. The poor girl looked almost as she said she felt, -"like a maid-servant," with her short petticoat and her high, tight -waist, and by her awkward self-consciousness she rendered the disparity -between herself and her cousins still more conspicuous. As she gave her -hand to Goethe, she muttered, in an almost audible whisper, "It is like -a breath from the country to see your face here. Did I not tell you I -would never feel at home in Strasburg?" - -When the visitors arrived, he had an opportunity to contrast the -appearance and behavior of the Duroc family with those of the society -which formed his own circle. The dignified and calmly noble demeanor of -the mother was perfectly adapted to the situation; she was in no wise -different from the other ladies. But Rahel was painfully ill at ease, -fancying that the eyes of the whole company were riveted upon her. When -she was spoken to, she either answered in monosyllables, or plunged into -random assertions on subjects of which she was totally ignorant. She -seemed to look to Goethe for support and assistance, and frequently -succeeded in embarrassing him also by her unconventional familiarity, -and her untimely allusions to incidents and jests that were not -understood outside of the Duroc parsonage. As she had formerly called to -him in the gardens or beckoned him aside in the fields if she had -anything particular to say to him, she did also the same here, when she -drew him into the recess of a window. She had the most unimportant -things to say to him,--nothing but what he knew already, that she wished -herself by the Rhine, over the Rhine, or even in Turkey. He did his best -to appease her, but without success. - -Alide, on the contrary, was highly remarkable in this position. Properly -speaking, she also did not suit it; but it bore witness to her character -that, instead of finding herself adapted to this condition, she -unconsciously moulded the condition according to herself. She acted here -as she had acted with the society in the country: she knew how to -animate every moment, and, without creating any disturbance, she put all -in motion. She spoke of the wardrobe, the ornaments, the personal graces -of her cousins, without affectation, and considered and admired them -without envy; yet all the time she seemed perfectly content with her -individual customs and appearance. Goethe she treated the same as ever: -she seemed to give him no preference, but that of communicating her -desires and wishes to him rather than to another, and thus recognizing -him as her servant. - -He had received permission from Frau Duroc to come early the next -morning to drive with herself and her daughters through the town and -take them over the Cathedral. A soft, clear sky and balmy air made a -paradise of the quaint old narrow streets, through which they rambled at -will, while Goethe's inexhaustible information and eloquence illustrated -every object of interest that they visited. He explained to them the -very curious effect given to the city just at this period by the -half-executed plans to beautify it. If a crooked side of a street was to -be straightened, one man would move forward to the appointed line, while -his neighbors remained in their old positions; and thus the oddest -projections and recesses were left. Rahel's awakened curiosity, -gratified at every turn, and yet continually and artfully excited by -Goethe with the promise of some fresh wonder, made her in some degree -forget the mortifications of the previous evening and her desire to be -once more at home. However, even here her restlessness was apparent, and -he was forced to exert his utmost ingenuity to amuse and entertain her. - -Alide was quiet and subdued; she looked with wondering eyes at these -unfamiliar scenes, and tried to realize the various lives and interests -that encompassed her. By his side she was happy; in looking on his -beloved and beautiful face, all other thoughts and emotions were -absorbed in a flood of joy. But, as the hours slipped by, a sense of -unrest and vague trouble gained upon her. When he spoke, though she was -inspired and excited by his enthusiasms, she did not share them, often -she could scarcely understand them. Her nature did not expand, like his, -to embrace these various activities; it rather shrank within itself, -suffocated for want of stimulus amidst this seething world of life, as -the fish gasps for air in the midst of the rare element itself. She felt -cramped, choked, belittled, in these noisy thoroughfares, these crowded -lanes, beneath these towering edifices. - -They alighted at the Cathedral, and entered the solemn sanctuary. The -sudden transition from the brightness of the noonday streets to this -tender twilight, the vast space of the inclosure, the exquisite beauty -of the slender reed-like pillars supporting the lofty vault above, the -awe-inspiring associations connected with the venerable Minster, caused -a deep religious adoration to take entire possession of the simple -girl's breast. She bowed her head and murmured to herself a child-like -prayer. He divined her emotions, though she could not guess his own, and -he refrained from interrupting her silent communion. Rahel was -chattering to the sacristan, who led her and Madame Duroc away from the -others, down the long aisle. - -"Alide," said Goethe, in a low voice, as she raised her eyes towards -him, "I love you dearly when I see you thus, and yet you are not mine at -such a time: you seem rapt away from me in some beautiful vision where I -cannot follow. The gates of heaven are open for an instant, and then all -is dark to me, until you return to earth, bringing upon your brow a -reflection of the very glory of Paradise." - -"Ah, Wolfgang!" she murmured, passionately, clasping her hands with the -gesture that was habitual to her when deeply moved, "why is all dark to -you? Why cannot you, who are so wise and so good, follow me into this -celestial world, where simplicity and faith are all that are required to -open wide the gates? Why shall not we twain, so closely united by -sympathy and love, draw from the same sublime source our courage and our -consolation? This is a subject that I have never before dared to -mention, and yet now I am bold to speak. What more fitting time, what -more sacred place, could we find than now and here to fall upon our -knees together and unite in adoration of that blessed Lamb of God who -died on Calvary for man?" - -A hot flush mantled Goethe's face, and an expression of weariness almost -amounting to pain clouded his brow, as he listened to Alide's -enthusiasm. When she ceased, he took her clasped hands in both his own, -and answered, very gently, "My dear little girl, you must not ask me to -do this, you must not speak to me again in this way, for it can only -give pain to both, showing between us a gulf that cannot be bridged. I -love you; that must be enough. Upon these questions I have thought much, -I have suffered much, I have undergone much that you can never -understand; but now I am at peace. Do not be distressed for my sake; in -the eyes of the beneficent Disposer of events our souls are at one." - -She answered him with a bewildered, frightened glance. The solemn -emphasis with which he had spoken forbade her continuing her impassioned -appeal. Her eyes filled with tears. "A gulf between us!" she repeated, -slowly. "Ah! that was my terror, and it has come. What will it grow to -be when we are man and wife?" - -"Alide! Alide!" interposed the shrill voice of Rahel, who now hastened -to her sister's side, "come and see these beautiful holy relics the -sacristan has been showing us. And then we are going to mount to the -platform and see the view from the gallery." - -How often these trivial intrusions occur at moments that seem like the -crises of our lives! and yet perhaps all had been said that either just -then was able or ready to speak, and it may have been well for both that -the peremptory demands of the hour forced them back to the actual world. - -The panorama from the gallery above the Cathedral fully answered their -expectations. The romantic city, the level-stretching meadows, the -golden river with the noontide sunshine flashing upon it, the far-away -mountains, but, above all, a just perceptible glimpse of Sesenheim, set -Rahel fairly wild with delight, and struck them all with wondering -admiration. This was the crowning pleasure of the day, and, after so -much enjoyment and novelty, all were ready to return home and take some -rest before they met again at dinner. - -Alide was unusually pale, and confessed to feeling somewhat wearied, but -the equable cheerfulness of her mind had already been restored to her by -the unwonted tenderness and caressing attentions with which Goethe -sought to make her forget their painful conversation in the Minster. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -HAMLET - - -"When we are man and wife." These half-dozen words kept ringing in -Goethe's ears and haunting persistently his brain. Each one seemed to -fall separately upon his sense with its own little shock of surprise, -though the idea they conveyed had been long, in a vague way, familiar to -his mind. It would be idle to assert that he had drifted blindly to this -end and that he now for the first time realized the significance and -result of his passion. But it is true that he had never before framed -this idea in words, nor imagined it as it now presented itself, an -incongruous and inevitable fact. He who felt conscious of a -superabundant vitality that was to expend itself in every phase of -experience, he who awoke daily to a keener perception of the -capabilities of a worthily-developed soul, he who fancied in his exalted -hours that he heard the voices of art, science, and nature invoking him, -their darling son,--in the recklessness of his extravagant youth he had -fettered himself for the remainder of his days, he had cramped his -wide-soaring flight to keep pace with the halting footsteps of a child; -at the threshold of a world that seemed all too narrow for his energies -and capacities he had bound himself to tread the accustomed, decorous -paths of a commonplace German citizen. For so long a time he had been in -the habit of seeing all things through the medium of his passion, that -it seemed as if a film or a glamour had been brushed suddenly from -before his eyesight. - -And yet it was no witchcraft that had made him find her marvelously -pretty; for so she looked at this moment as she advanced towards him, -with her half-timid, half-confident air, and her free, graceful -carriage, as though she stepped on grass and heath. - -"I have come to beg a favor of you, Wolfgang," said she; "but you must -promise beforehand to grant it." - -"Naturally," answered he, forcing a smile, "that is the way you women -always beg: first must come the consent, and then you humbly present -your petition." Then, seeing her discomfited expression, he added, with -his usual spirit, "But you know very well that I am always at your -service, Alide. What is it now? I am ready for anything you propose." - -"Ah, now I recognize you again," cried she. "The girls are expecting -some friends this evening, and they have sent me to beg you to entertain -the company with reading aloud as you used to do for us at the -parsonage." - -"Is that all?" asked he, good-humoredly. "Of course I will do my best to -oblige you; only they must promise in their turn to be very attentive, -and not to grow impatient if I require two or three hours to myself." - -She led him joyfully among the family group, where he was thanked on all -sides for his amiability, and Alide received her share of reflected -admiration and homage from those who perceived her influence over him. -As few of them were familiar with English literature, and he was in the -period of his first enthusiasm for Shakspeare, he selected "Hamlet" as -the subject of the evening's diversion. Never had Alide seen him more -inspired than he appeared this night. He delivered every part with -eloquent expression; but when he uttered the words of Hamlet himself he -seemed to be in living reality the beautiful melancholy poet-prince, -whose nobly-dowered, ill-balanced nature had been so "horribly shaken -with thoughts beyond the reaches of his soul." - -The attention of the whole company was strained to its utmost; they were -enveloped by an atmosphere which they had never before breathed, and -transported to scenes hitherto unimagined. Their ears were spell-bound -by the thrilling modulations of that strangely sympathetic voice, which -alone filled the room, no less with its gravest tones of awe and grief -and its deepest murmurs of tenderness than with its irresistible force -in the "very torrent and tempest of passion." Alide sat directly -opposite Goethe: throughout every act she remained motionless, with her -eyes fixed upon his face, utterly unconscious of any other presence. And -yet, though her attitude remained unchanged, and her hands lay quietly -crossed in her lap, any one who had watched her attentively would have -seen that she was a prey to a succession of various and powerful -emotions. From time to time she sighed deeply, and a passing color -tinged her cheeks. - - - "For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor, - Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood; - A violet in the youth of primy nature, - Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, - The perfume and suppliance of a minute; - No more." - - "No more but so?" - - -The blood fled from her eager face, her thin white fingers stirred -convulsively, as she heard the wise, kind, chilling answer of Laertes: - - - "Think it no more. - For nature, crescent, does not grow alone - In thews and bulk; but, as this temple waxes, - The inward service of the mind and soul - Grows wide withal." - - -A pathetic, bewildered expression clouded her countenance, until soon, -forgetful of herself and suddenly responsive to some lofty thought, some -heroic passion, the light and color rippled again over brow and cheek, -and a faint smile of irrepressible delight played upon her lips. When it -was over, all crowded around Goethe with enthusiastic applause, while -most of them added their thanks to Alide for having procured them so -memorable an entertainment. In her graceful manner she did not deny -herself the little pride of having shone through him. - -There was much discussion at table about the play. This chance company -of moderately-cultivated and ordinarily intelligent people were perhaps -better able to form a correct and impartial judgment than if they had -been a society of critics and Shakspeare's compatriots. Each one of -Goethe's listeners heard the drama with a mind totally unbiased by any -preconceived idea, and it broke upon them with all the freshness and -beauty of a new work of art, the final result of the philosophy and -aspiration of centuries. An Englishman would have been highly amused at -the naïf admiration, the frank suggestions, the astonishment and -enthusiasm of this foreign circle. - -"Do you not find rather inconsistent with Hamlet's tender and sensitive -temperament, Herr Goethe," suggested old Mr. Burkhardt, "the summary -manner in which he disposes of the body of Polonius?" - -"Nature, nature, sir!" cried Goethe; "nothing so natural as Shakspeare's -men. Alas! how can our age form a judgment as to what is natural; we who -from youth upwards feel everything within us, and see everything in -others, laced up and decorated? I am often ashamed before Shakspeare, -for it happens that at the first glance I think to myself, I should have -done differently; but soon I perceive that I am a poor sinner, that -nature prophesies through Shakspeare, and that my men are soap-bubbles -blown from romantic fancies." - -"I must confess," said Anna, "that I do not know much about the poetry; -but the interest of the story never flagged for a moment." - -"And yet there seemed to be no action, properly so called," interposed a -young man near Goethe; "but only a development of the strange character -of Hamlet." - -"You are right," answered Goethe; "Shakspeare's plots, as they are -called, are no plots. All his plays turn upon the hidden point which no -philosopher has yet seen and defined, in which the peculiarity of our -Ego, the pretended freedom of our will, clashes with the necessary -course of the whole." - -"I think it is very unsatisfactory," said Rahel, in her blunt way, "not -to know so much at the end of a play as whether the hero was really in -love or not. Was Hamlet in love with Ophelia, Wolfgang?" - -Alide started as though she herself had been the object of her sister's -inquiry. There was a general smile at the abruptness of the question, -and Goethe himself seemed rather disconcerted. - -"My clever little Mademoiselle Rahel," said he, at last, "you have hit -upon the most vexed question concerning our melancholy hero. I believe -that scarcely any two readers of Shakspeare have precisely the same idea -in regard to Hamlet's feeling for Ophelia. In regard to hers for him, in -spite of the exquisite delicacy and modesty of her character, there can, -unfortunately for her, be no doubt." - -Why did Alide feel as if a loved hand had struck her a sudden blow? "But -you do not answer me,--what is your opinion?" persisted Rahel. - -"My opinion," answered he, after a brief pause, "is that he sincerely -loved her--before the opening of the play. She was the sweetheart of his -boyhood, the companion of his hours of recreation. But from the moment -that his capacities are disclosed to him by the revelation from another -world, he is bound by the highest duty of man--that which he owes -himself--to discard everything that can cramp or impede the development -of his own nature, and the fulfilment of the sacred office to which he -is called. The beauty and sweetness of Ophelia's character cannot be -exaggerated, yet she is no mate for Hamlet. He simply outgrows her; or -rather, in binding himself to her, he had underestimated his own powers, -and after these have been supernaturally revealed to him it is -impossible for him to return to his earlier position. His heart remains -true to her, but his whole intellectual nature has gone beyond her." - -"On one point I cannot agree with you," answered the young man who had -previously spoken: "I think Ophelia _was_ the proper wife for Hamlet. -Her character had all the grace, lightness, sentiment, and simplicity -which his lacked, and only she, to my thinking, could have saved him, if -he had but seen it in time, from the sombre madness and melancholy which -ultimately destroyed him." - -Goethe remained silent for a moment, and then replied, thoughtfully, -"Perhaps it was Shakspeare's intention to suggest that. Such a result as -you imagine is, unfortunately, one of those events that we never foresee -betimes. Yes," he added, brightening again, "I return to what I said -first,--that is nature. It would not have been natural if Hamlet could -have studied the complications of his destiny with as clear a mind as -the poet. It is pleasant to think that Shakspeare was mistaken, that we -should have been nobler and truer than Hamlet, but I am afraid he shows -us only too plainly how each one of us would have treated that 'Rose of -May,' if we had been in Hamlet's position." - -To all present, save one, this conversation appeared no more than the -most indifferent criticism of an abstract subject. Alide felt her heart -like lead in her bosom; her head burned and throbbed, her hands, by -turns icy cold and feverishly hot, trembled. She was possessed by the -illusion that it was she who was the subject of the cold comments or the -galling compassion of all around her. She breathed more freely when the -topic of Hamlet was finally dismissed, and when the company dispersed -she had gradually regained her outward composure. - -Goethe was, as usual, the last to take his leave. While he was bidding -good-night to the other members of the family, Alide remained apart, -seated by the table where he had read. When he came towards her, the -devoted girl forgot her own trouble the moment her eyes fell upon his -altered face. The color had faded from his cheeks, his eyes were sunken -and haggard, and a strange contraction of the muscles of his forehead -gave him a distressed and wearied expression which she had never seen -before. - -"My darling, what is the matter with you?" whispered she, in alarm, with -the tenderness of voice and manner which she was accustomed to receive -from him. "You have done too much this evening,--you are -over-fatigued,--you are ill. Wolfgang, what is it?" And she took his -large, shapely hand caressingly between her two little cold palms. - -"Do not be foolish, sweetheart," said he, forcing a smile. "Have you -never seen me tired before? A night's sleep will bring me up again. -Meanwhile, do you sleep sweetly and dream of other things." He kissed -her hurriedly for good-night. "Till to-morrow!" he cried, in a cheerful -voice, and in a moment he was out of the house. He, on his part, had not -remarked the icy chill of those affectionate hands that pressed his own, -the unnatural brilliancy of the dilated eyes, the crimson spot of fever -that glowed on either cheek, and the burning heat of the smooth white -forehead which his lips had lightly touched. It was Madame Duroc who -perceived, with a terrible sensation of oppression and anxiety, the -unusual appearance of her child, and yet dared not express her sympathy -by the slightest emphasis of affection. She felt that whatever trouble -Alide was enduring now must be borne alone, and if it were not to pass -away its solace must be left to a later period. All night the pious -mother was awake, constantly invoking the blessing of Heaven upon the -dear young head. She knew that the child of her heart, ill, helpless, -and alone, was for the first time learning to suffer. - -When Goethe hurried from the Burkhardts' home, there was a tumult in his -brain, a heat and fever in his blood, a lassitude in his limbs, which he -did not remember to have experienced before. A night's sleep would -restore him, he had assured Alide; but when he issued into the soft -night-air he said to himself that this was better than to toss -uncomfortably upon his pillow, for in his nervously-excited condition -sleep was an impossibility. It was past midnight, and the streets were -silent and black with shadows, relieved only by the white splendor of -the moon that floated high above the house-tops. He walked at a rapid -pace, but not in the direction of his lodging. Contrary to his usual -habit, he took no note of the beauty of the night, and the quiet, -restful appearance of the sleeping town. Overcome by poignant regrets, -gloomy self-reproaches, and morose imaginings of the future, he yielded -to the influence of a morbid despair. He saw himself faithless to the -highest responsibilities of his life. On one side his fate called out, -summoning him to an austere and lofty career, to the noblest -achievements and the purest rewards; on the other, a clinging, -affectionate child held him to the earth, fettered, cramped, and bound -with chains of flowers. What was he doing with his youth? To whom was he -about to sacrifice the convictions, the activity, of his richest and -strongest years of manhood? And yet, whenever the image of that -beautiful young face, ennobled as it was by a pure and deep passion, -formed itself upon his brain, he felt his heart beat faster and the old -yearning and unrest fill his bosom. At that moment all was dark within -him,--whether he truly loved, or whether he yielded to a weak, ephemeral -fancy; whether he himself was the Goethe of his imagination, or merely -an ordinary foolish and capricious young man, stayed entirely by insane -ambition and fantastic illusions. He raised his head, and, with a -passionate movement, clasped his hands, extended them wide, and let them -drop by his sides, in a mute appeal to the mysterious forces of night. -He had unconsciously walked towards the river, and the unexpected sight -of the smooth black stream with its glittering reflections, and of the -immense reach of star-sprinkled sky above, holding in its pale depths -the bright, benign face of the moon, awakened him at once from the -sombre unreality of his reverie to the beautiful actual world. The -exquisite aspect of the June night seemed almost to give a direct answer -to the cry of his agitated soul. Sweet and holy influences appeared to -descend from those remote heavens upon his head, which he bared as if in -prayer. Like the touch of his mother's hand the fitful yet indescribably -gentle whiffs of breeze passed caressingly over his brow. He did not try -to account for the sudden serenity which filled his breast after its -recent turmoil and fever. This was true rest, he said to himself, this -conscious repose, so different from the brutish oblivion of sleep. And -yet, as the first streaks of dawn broke over the river, he was aware of -an aching weariness in his limbs and a chill throughout his frame. He -felt as one who has been scourged; his eyes burned, his hands trembled. -With a painful effort he hurried to his lodging, flung himself, sick and -shivering, upon his bed, and was immediately possessed by the profound -sleep of utter exhaustion. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE CLOUDS GATHER - - -Alide awoke early, after an unrefreshing night disturbed by exaggerated -dreams. At the hour that Goethe returned to his room, she rose and -watched from her window the break of day. Even over the city streets the -slow, majestic approach of morning brought its accustomed encouragement -to her soul. Distressing as her sleep had seemed, it had nevertheless -sufficed to restore the even flow of her blood. She recalled with -astonishment her gloomy presentiments of the preceding evening, and the -absurd fancy of identifying herself with Ophelia. "'Till to-morrow!' -were his last cheerful words," she thought; "and to-morrow has already -come." And a smile of tranquil joy broke upon her face as she raised her -eyes and beheld the subdued light and delicate colors of the morning -sky. A little breeze from over the river blew softly on her cheeks. At -this moment of sacred expectancy just preceding the splendor of a new -day, her heart was filled with pious gratitude and adoration. - -She was startled from her reverie by the voice of her sister, who turned -restlessly in the bed. "Alide, what are you doing so early by the open -window?" - -"I am at my matins," answered Alide. "Are you sleepy, Rahel?" she asked, -advancing towards the bed. "Or do you care to get up with me and look at -this beautiful sunrise?" - -"No, I am not sleepy," replied Rahel, rising, with flushed cheeks and -bright wide eyes. "I have been watching you a long time. You seemed so -happy, I wondered what you could be thinking about. I had something to -tell you, but I would not interrupt you. Were you really at your -prayers?--you were not on your knees." - -"I scarcely know myself, sister," answered Alide, with a laugh and a -slight blush. "I was very peaceful and happy just then, and yet I could -hardly tell you what I was thinking about. Come, put a shawl about your -shoulders, and you can tell me in the window all you have to say." - -"Well, I am tired enough of these hot pillows," said Rahel, who had -slept like a tired child all night. And, drawing about her her little, -loose white gown, she followed her sister to the window. - -The city was still wrapped in a tender shadow, and the sky full of -color, but without a gleam of radiance. In a moment, and as if -unexpectedly, the clear sunbeams darted above the horizon, glistening -over roofs and steeples, and as suddenly sprang into relief against the -blue background the illuminated spire of Strasburg Cathedral. Rahel gave -a little sigh. The sunlight fell into the room and dazzled their eyes. -She closed the jalousies with an impatient movement, and shut out the -bright picture of morning. "Yes, it is beautiful," said she; "but it -only makes me think the more of morning over the meadows and mountains -at home. Oh, Alide, I am so unhappy here!" And, covering her face with -her hands, she burst into tears. - -Alide looked at her in surprise, and tried to calm her. "Yes," continued -Rahel, when she had recovered sufficient composure to speak; "I have -fought against it long enough. I can endure it no longer. Everything I -do turns out to be a blunder. I sit among these fine ladies dumb and -awkward as a peasant. I do not dress nor talk like them, nor belong to -their world. When I am with Anna, I ask myself a hundred times a day -what it is that puts her above me, that makes me feel like an ignorant -child in her presence. She is no older than I am, she is not pretty, she -is not clever, and I do not think she is kind. She is so sweet and -gracious to every one's face, and yet she is spiteful enough behind -their back sometimes. No, I could never be like her. And yet Gretchen is -worse, for she mortifies me, and laughs at my mistakes, and makes them -seem so droll to everybody else. Oh, Alide, are you not ready to go -home?" - -"Surely our going home does not depend upon me," said Alide. -"I never suspected you were so unhappy. I will go whenever you -please,--to-morrow, or Thursday. What day shall we say?" - -"Do you really promise to go so soon?" cried Rahel, eagerly. "Of course -it depends upon you. Mamma told me in advance that she wished to wait, -for it could not be long, until you and Wolfgang had made some definite -arrangement, had settled the day of your marriage at least. What will -she say when she knows I have forced you home so soon? Am I not selfish -and vain and--" - -"Hush, Rahel," interposed Alide, gently; "you are nothing of the kind. -You and mamma and all the rest are only too good to me. But no one need -think that it is you who persuade me to leave: I am quite ready myself -to go." - -"But is it indeed too soon?" asked Rahel, remorsefully. "Have you -decided upon anything? When shall you be married, Alide?" - -"Oh, as to that, never mind," said Alide, with confusion. "We can -arrange that at the parsonage as well as we could here, where there is -always a certain constraint. But you, at any rate, need not suffer any -longer." - -Rahel kissed her sister impetuously, and cried, "Dear little Baby, you -have grown older and wiser than I." And then, with a free heart once -more, she confided to Alide her hopes and plans for her own wedding, -which was to take place early in the following autumn. - -She was quite like the Rahel of Sesenheim again, cheerful, merry, and -talkative, when she appeared among the Burkhardt family. But Alide was -thoughtful and abstracted: her sister's confession as to the real object -of their visit awoke her somewhat roughly to a sense of the actual -demands of her position. She could not but acknowledge to herself that -she was no nearer a definite agreement with Goethe, concerning their -mutual prospects, than the day she had first seen him; and in the eyes -of the world they were betrothed. But nothing was to be gained by -remaining in Strasburg; she felt a sincere compassion for her sister's -vexations and homesickness, and was glad for her sake to leave. She did -not dare to ask whether she herself were happy here; she would not have -confessed in her inmost thoughts that the presence of Goethe was not -all-sufficing for her; but she was conscious of an unrest and oppression -ever since she had been in the city, which she attributed to the novelty -and uncongeniality of town-life. - -She was more impatient than usual for the hour of Goethe's accustomed -visit. Punctually at one o'clock he was in the habit of presenting -himself daily at the Burkhardts' house, and they generally passed the -remainder of the day together. Perhaps when she told him so unexpectedly -that she must leave Strasburg, he would come to some decision. - -The morning passed slowly and quietly. At noon some visitors were -announced, and the Duroc girls were called to receive them with their -cousins. Alide's picturesque white skirt and, bodice displayed to -perfection the grace and symmetry of her form; a silver comb fastened -above her stately little head the loose twists of her auburn braids. Her -face was transparently pale, and her eyes had the languid, drooping -expression produced by a night of insufficient sleep. The strangers were -charmed with her, and when the clock struck one they showed no intention -of taking their leave. Her answers became more and more brief and -abstracted; her eyes wandered continually to the door, which did not -open; she grew restless and alarmed. - -"Will you not, my dear?" were the words, uttered in a coaxing tone, -that startled her from her reverie, and she found that she was expected -to sing. - -"One of the genuine Volkslieder, cousin," said Anna. - -It was such a relief to Alide to know what they were talking about, that -she rose willingly to go to the harpsichord. Who does not know the -rapidly-succeeding emotions of vexation, uneasiness, anxiety, and fear -in waiting beyond the appointed time for one who is dear to us? She had -sufficient control over her voice to intone some of her Alsatian -ballads; the words came mechanically to her lips, but all the time she -was repeating to herself, "Why has he not let me know? If anything -should happen to him! My darling, how harassed he looked last evening!" -Before she had finished, the clock struck two; her heart beat high and -loud in her breast. They pressed her for more, but she answered, in her -simple, child-like way, "Please forgive me; I cannot sing any more just -now." - -"We are afraid it affects her chest, sometimes," said her mother; "she -is so easily tired." - -At last, to Alide's indescribable relief, the visit was brought to an -end. It was nearly three o'clock: the one thought uppermost in her mind, -that Wolfgang was ill, gained strength until it became a terrible -certainty. All day her suspense was prolonged, and she was obliged to -take part in the accustomed occupations and conversations of the -household, and, moreover, to keep constantly on her guard, lest her -agitation should be remarked. How could she wait until to-morrow? how -could she lie motionless by her sister's side through the interminable -hours of the night, and endure this intolerable distress and -uncertainty? - -Early in the evening a note was handed to her: she hurried to her room, -dreading lest she should lose control over herself by a confirmation of -her fears or a too sudden reaction of joy. With trembling fingers she -broke the seal, and read: - - -"MY DARLING,--I cannot be with you till to-morrow. I laughed at your -fears last evening, but nevertheless my little girl was right, as she -always is. This morning I found myself suffering, and only a day in the -open air and a wild ride on horseback have made me myself again. I -looked forward to seeing you this evening, but an old fellow-student of -Leipsic, who is passing through Strasburg to-day, has unexpectedly -turned up at my lodgings, and, of course, is with me for the night I -must find patience till to-morrow. Shall we not meet to-night in our -dreams? I believe it, for my heart is always with you. Sleep well, and -believe in the love of your own - - - "Goethe." - - -The reaction came, but it was not one of joy. She let the note slip from -her fingers, and, covering her face with her hands, burst into tears. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -A STRANGE INTERVIEW - - -Early on the following morning Alide left the house alone. Her grave, -preoccupied air, her firm, self-confident carriage, no less than her -bourgeois attire, were sufficient protection for her in the city -streets. She directed her steps towards the Cathedral, walking as -securely and fearlessly as though she were in the meadows at home. She -was sick at heart, faint and terrified at the shadow which she foresaw -about to fall upon her life, and she had need of solemn meditation and -prayer. It was not the hour of service, but the organ was playing, and -there were a few worshipers scattered among the aisles. Not far from the -entrance knelt a woman in mourning, her face buried in her hands, and -her form occasionally convulsed by stifled sobs. Alide could not fail to -see her, and a sharp pang of pity smote her heart; but the stranger's -grief was sacred, and at that moment beyond her compassion, and, -averting her eyes, she glanced up at the altar, bowed her head meekly, -folded her hands upon her breast, and sank down upon her knees. - -What a throng of powerful emotions filled her heart to bursting and sent -the hot tears streaming from her eyes! Could that terrible nightmare be -the end of her beautiful dream? With all her might she strove to put the -evil thought away from her; she denied it utterly, she tried to stifle -it by directing her mind to the contemplation of things holy and -eternal. This was the source whence she had never yet failed to draw -serenity and courage, and to-day again she succeeded insomuch that when -she rose to leave the Minster she was once more at peace. As she walked -slowly down the long aisle, she was startled by seeing that the mourner -whom she had remarked on entering had fallen from her kneeling posture -and was lying motionless with her face downward. She advanced towards -her and touched her gently on the shoulder. The woman did not move. -"Mein Gott! if she be dead!" thought Alide, in affright, and looked -around for help; but there was nobody near, and she did not dare to -profane the sacred quiet of the place by a cry or a call. She stooped -over the prostrate figure, disencumbered the head from the heavy folds -of the veil, and with an effort upraised the face. It was that of a -woman scarcely older than herself, of a strange, severe beauty, and its -deathly pallor was heightened by the intense blackness of the thick -masses of hair that waved over the forehead. - -"Poor thing! but it is only a faint," said Alide to herself, as she -perceived the slight rise and fall of the woman's chest; and, gently -leaning the passive form against a column, she hastened away to beg the -assistance of the sacristan. With his aid she gradually succeeded in -restoring life to the sick woman, who stirred, opened her closely-locked -lips, and raised her large, dark eyes with a bewildered expression. -Alide spoke to her, and offered her some water to drink. - -"You have not been well, my friend," said she: "are you strong enough -now to let us help you out of the church, where you can breathe some -fresh air?" - -The woman looked at her with a grateful expression, but did not answer; -she drank the water which Alide held out to her, and then said, in a low -voice, as if she did not expect to be understood, "Je ne comprends pas," -and made an effort to rise to her feet. - -"Ah, she is a foreigner," grumbled the sacristan. "What is to be done, -Fräulein?" - -"That is nothing; I will make her understand," replied Alide; and she -repeated in French what she had already said. She herself, as her name -betokened, was of French descent, and the pastor had instructed his -children in that language, which they spoke with rare sweetness and -precision. - -The stranger looked at her in surprise, and a smile of satisfaction lit -up her austere features. "Ah, how good it is to hear one's own language -like that!" said she. "You are an angel, mademoiselle. Yes, I am quite -strong enough, if this good man will lend me his arm to go into the air. -That is what I need. This hot building stifled me; I thought the walls -were closing in upon me, I felt myself fall, and then--nothing! Did I -cry out? where did you come from? how did you find me?" - -She had a wild, almost fierce look in her large eyes, and her voice -sounded rather too loud to Alide for the sacred edifice. - -"Never mind that now, my friend," answered she: "I will tell you all -when we get outside. Only now try to walk a step." - -They helped her to her feet, and, leaning heavily on the sacristan's -arm, she succeeded in reaching the vestry-room. In spite of her -weakness, she absolutely refused to take Alide's hand to enable her to -walk, but nevertheless begged her to sit with her a little while until -she felt able to go into the street again. The window was open, and the -fresh air soon revived her. She sat without speaking, drinking in the -soft summer breeze, with her eyes fixed upon the sky. Great tears -quivered upon her lashes, but did not fall. Alide had never seen -anything more beautiful and more melancholy than this strange face. The -features were regular in outline, and severe to sternness, and yet the -expression was that of a passionate nature, owing to the sensuous effect -of heavy eyebrows that met over the nose, the peculiar glance of the -eyes, and the bold appearance given to the whole face by the arrangement -of the hair, which was parted at the side, overshadowing with its -luxuriance the square forehead. If she had not been so sad, Alide would -almost have experienced a sensation of fear. As it was, her tender heart -was overflowing with a vast pity; she wondered what the stranger's -trouble was, and if it could not be alleviated. But no,--those black -mourning robes proved too plainly a trouble that could know no -compensation on earth. Thank God, she had been spared an affliction like -that! If Wolfgang had died,--no, she could not endure the thought. And -to think that this morning she had been miserable, because for a single -day he had not cherished her with his wonted devotion! Now she was -brought in the presence of grief, and what a mockery it made of her -imaginary trouble! Who could be gentle enough to one who had suffered as -this poor girl? Actuated by a sudden strong impulse of sympathy and -tenderness, Alide stood up by the stranger's side, and, bending over -her, kissed her forehead. The woman started and looked at her in -amazement; the tears that had stood in her eyes gathered and streamed -down her pale cheeks. - -"You are an angel of heaven!" she cried. "I am not worthy to touch your -pure, kind hand, and you do not hesitate to kiss my brow. But do not be -afraid," she added, drawing back; "I will not harm you, I will not come -near you; but the good God will let me breathe for a little while the -atmosphere of one so pure and so gentle, and only He knows how I have -suffered." And, once more averting her head, she leaned against the -window and looked up at the sky. - -Alide was indeed a little frightened, but her compassion overpowered all -other feelings, and, advancing again, she said, "Are you not my sister -in Christ? You cannot harm me, my poor girl, but I may help you. You -have been ill just now, and you must not excite yourself like this. Sit -down by my side, and perhaps you will grow calmer." - -The woman dropped upon her knees before Alide, buried her head in the -young girl's lap, and sobbed aloud. For a long time Alide talked to her -as wisely as she knew, about the blessed consolations of a faith that -promised everlasting mercy to the repentant sinner. It was not her -words, which were the ordinary commonplaces of every priest and parson, -but it was the earnest conviction, the simple piety, and, more than all, -the unexampled kindness and sympathy, that softened and quieted the -poor, fallen creature at her feet. She listened as if in a dream of -peace to this gentle young girl, who seemed to her a living saint; but -she did not confess herself: she felt that it would have been a wrong to -that innocent, candid soul. At last they separated; the stranger -insisted that she was quite able to find her way home alone, and she -would not hear of Alide's taking a step with her in the street. Again -and again she thanked her for her angelic kindness, and kissed -reverently and humbly the hand which Alide offered her at parting. "May -I ask you one thing more, mademoiselle?" she said, timidly, after taking -a last, long look at the noble, delicate face before her. "Your name?" - -"Alide Duroc. And yours, that I may pray for you?" - -"Lucinda." - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -DRIFTING APART - - -In returning to the Burkhardts' house, Alide felt herself under the -influence of a powerful excitement. Her interview with Lucinda had -entirely overshadowed her personal trouble, and had revealed to her an -abyss of suffering and sin hitherto inconceivable to her joyous, -innocent temperament. After a glimpse of such desolation and -self-abasement, the recollection of her own happy home, and of the love -which encompassed and cherished her, was refreshing as the clear air and -sunlight to one who issues from a dungeon. She reproached herself with -humility for her recent bitter thoughts; in everything Wolfgang had done -she saw now an additional tenderness and consideration. He had not -written to her until he could tell her he was well, and then it was only -to speak lightly of past suffering; and, instead of understanding and -rejoicing, what unjust suspicions had she harbored against him! She -longed to see him, to confess her wrong, and ask forgiveness, and to -hear him talk once more, in his own wise, generous way, of the duties -and compensations of life, in order to reconcile her to her new -knowledge of evil. Her whole heart was softened and agitated, and needed -to expand in affection and to be quieted by the voice of love. - -When she reached the house, Goethe had already arrived. He had come -earlier than usual, and was seated in the drawing-room with Madame -Burkhardt and her daughter. Alide's accustomed delight at his presence -was mingled with disappointment, for she must meet him with forced -composure, and continue to repress the emotions which swelled her heart. -She found him in high spirits, recounting to her aunt and cousin some -droll reminiscences of his student-life at Leipsic, recalled, no doubt, -by the visit he had received the previous evening. The old lady and Anna -had apparently been enjoying the heartiest laughter, and he himself was -beyond measure gay and animated. - -"Good-morning, dear friend," he cried, as he rose to greet Alide, taking -one of her hands between his own and kissing it lightly. "You ran away -from us early; but you have come in time to join us in the pleasantest -conversation." - -His merry tone jarred harshly upon Alide's mood, but, forcing herself to -respond, she answered, with her natural cheerfulness, "I am glad I am -not too late. I have stayed longer than I intended at the Cathedral. But -tell me first, Wolfgang, are you well to-day?" - -"Do I look like an invalid?" said he, turning towards her his laughing -face flushed with brilliant color. "I think it must have been a -disagreeable dream that I was ill for a half-dozen hours or so," he -added, hurriedly; "I cannot believe it to-day. I have been telling -Madame Burkhardt and Fraulein Anna of my visitor last evening,--an old -fellow-student, Alide,--and it has led me back into I know not what -foolish recollections of boyhood." - -"Hear the lad! how he talks of his boyhood, as if he were a -grandfather!" cried Madame Burkhardt; "and I do not believe it is five -years back." - -"You are not far wrong," he replied, with a laugh: "my Leipsic days were -just six years ago. But I do not parcel out my life in years; I know -that I have lived fast and developed quickly, and I know, too, how young -I am by the great world-clock, and how much I have to do. No, Madame -Burkhardt," he continued, with his former lightness, "indulgent as you -are, you would not have tolerated the volatile, overbearing, untamed -boor that I was then." And he began again to narrate an incident of that -period. He was in his liveliest vein to-day, affording so much -entertainment to his listeners that Alide saw little chance of a quiet -interview with him. And indeed she almost ceased to desire it as the -hour passed by: she could not have uttered to him in his present mood -the grave words that had been upon her lips. At last, however, Madame -Burkhardt withdrew, after making him promise to dine with them, that she -might see him again; and shortly after, Anna discreetly followed her. - -"You little runaway!" cried he, as soon as he found himself alone with -Alide. "You were cruel enough to punish me for my misfortune -yesterday,--was I not punished enough?" - -She looked at him in mute reproach. How was it possible to imagine an -act of coquetry between herself and him? He saw that he had wounded her, -and tried to repair his mistake. - -"If I had but known in time that you cared to go so early to the -Cathedral, I should have loved to ramble over it again with you. I -believe, Alide, if you were to dwell any length of time in Strasburg, -the constant presence of that noble monument would gradually bring you -into sympathy with the infinite world that opens to the artist's mind. -Do you know that some of the grandest of those colossal statues set in -the walls are the work of a woman,--Sabina von Steinbach, the daughter -of Erwin?" - -What was the matter with him to-day? He spoke with evident constraint, -and every word he said seemed to force Alide and himself further apart. - -"Yes?" answered she, absently. "I did not go there this morning to -admire the architecture. And I am not going to dwell any length of time -in Strasburg, either," she continued, with a quiet smile. "Do you know -that we are going home to-morrow?" - -"To-morrow!" cried Goethe, springing from his seat. "But you have only -just arrived. And our walks, our river-excursions, our drives, all the -pleasure that we promised ourselves together! What is the meaning of -this sudden determination?" - -She explained to him in a few words the discomfort and humiliation of -her sister's position. - -"Was that all?" he thought, with a sigh of relief, and he looked quickly -and searchingly into Alide's ingenuous face. "I cannot dispute it," -answered he: "poor Rahel has been miserably restless and unhappy here; -the situation was a novel one for her, and its exactions have chafed -terribly her wild spirit. But it is the more admirable how you, Alide, -have fitted yourself to each new condition; everywhere you seem free as -a bird in the branches." - -"Wherever you are, Wolfgang, I am content," she replied, simply. - -For a moment he did not speak; then, abruptly looking her full in the -face, he pressed her hand warmly. - -"You are a good girl, Alide," he said, and began to pace the room, with -his eyes cast to the ground. - -Alide felt emboldened by his evident agitation to put forward the -subject nearest her heart. - -"And why, Wolfgang," she began, timidly, "should I remain longer in the -city? If mamma and Rahel are happier at home, why should my pleasure -detain them? Whither is our present life leading,--and for what are we -waiting?" She paused, with her heart in her throat. - -"For what are we waiting, indeed?" repeated he, as if to himself, -passing his hand over his brow and never stopping in his walk. "My youth -is slipping away from me,--the precious years of activity that I had -resolved to dedicate to high and serious thought and indefatigable -labor. What wild yet glorious visions, what earnest purposes, did not -Breitkopf recall to me last night! And is life to charm me also from my -convictions, like so many other useless, indolent creatures who loiter -by the way and are swept into annihilation by the storm and stress of -time? How much longer am I to remain a novice and a pupil?--to squander -the priceless gifts of manhood in prattling, and trifling, and dilatory -self-indulgence? Everything recalls me to myself: last night it was -Breitkopf who startled me by asking what I had done, and what I was -doing. I remained dumb and ashamed. A stroke on a canvas, the jingle of -a sonnet, a fantastic fairy-tale, are those the work of a man? And at -such a moment, too,--when old faiths are passing away, old superstitions -are discarded, old prejudices are abandoned, and all Germany in an -attitude of expectation awaits the voice that will animate and inspire -the souls of her youth." - -He paused, and stood before Alide. How completely they failed to -understand each other! Was that the response he should have given to her -affectionate appeal? and what words had she to offer the need of his -spirit? How was she fitted to enter with sympathy and intelligence into -the world of his imagination? Her heart was like a stone within her; she -saw him gradually passing beyond her narrow sphere into a realm where -she could neither meet nor follow him. - -He forced himself back from his wild reverie, and quieted himself by -talking of her, questioning her again about her departure, and -interesting himself in all that concerned her. He wished to accompany -her the following day to Drusenheim, where the pastor was to meet his -family, but Alide said she would prefer to bid him farewell here, rather -than take the chance of parting before strangers at the inn; and as the -driver of the diligence had been an old servant of her father's, and all -the country-folk knew the Durocs, she had not the slightest fear of -returning as she had come. Throughout the remainder of the day they were -together, but, whether in the midst of the family group or apart from -all, their conversation kept a uniform tone: they did not speak from -heart to heart again. - -Who has not seen a summer cloud that hangs apparently motionless become, -through imperceptible changes, even while the eye is fastened upon it, -something other than it was, and slowly dissolve and vanish in the -bright ether? - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -PARTING - - -Both Goethe and Alide looked forward with dread to the separation on the -morrow; but when it came it was no tragic farewell. At the last moment -they found themselves in the midst of the family, where cheerful and -affectionate embraces were exchanged, as befitted friends who were -separating for a brief term and who would still be but a short distance -apart. There was even much merriment among them in the confusion of -good-byes. They were all to meet in the autumn at latest for Rahel's -wedding, and in the meantime frequent visits to the parsonage were -promised by the younger Burkhardts. As for Goethe, he said he would be -with them, in a week, if he could snatch a day; and Rahel, who was in -high spirits, refused to bid him good-by, in order to insure his coming. - -Alide was calm and quiet, and preserved her ordinary appearance and -demeanor. All the cheerfulness around her did not deceive her unerring -intuitions. "This is the end," she kept repeating mechanically to -herself. She was in one of those moods when the necessity of a supreme -effort strings the nerves to their utmost tension. She could have -laughed as naturally as the rest; she could utter careless words to her -kinsfolk, yes, to Wolfgang himself; she could think with a curious -accuracy of every detail of their departure and journey; she observed -with more than her usual keenness everything around her, whether -ludicrous or serious. And all the time there was a leaden weight upon -her brain, and she felt as if her heart and soul had been eaten out of -her. - -The first sensation which Goethe experienced when the diligence rolled -away was one of relief, as if of restored freedom; but the next moment -he was horrified at his own cowardice. The veil was torn from before -him, and he saw clearly the position into which he had drifted. It was -not the first time that his susceptible, undisciplined nature had led -him into a hasty attachment which could occasion only discord and -misery. To his shame he confessed it, but in this case he had bound -himself to one so pure and so lovely that to free himself would be -dishonor. And yet this affectionate child did not respond in any degree -to the demands of his insatiable spirit: his fancy and his sense had -been attracted, but the depths of his being had not been stirred. As she -herself had said, "If there were a gulf between them now, what would it -grow to be when they were man and wife!" His imagination pictured to him -in the most forcible colors the hideous dreariness and the -ever-increasing unhappiness of a marriage of disparity, where neither -the convictions nor the sentiments of man and wife were in harmony. And -this was what he must awaken to,--too late, too late! for he could not -but acknowledge that now, at whatever sacrifice, he must stand firm. -There could no longer be any self-delusion with regard to a higher duty -to his art, to the responsibilities of a vocation for which ordinary men -were not fitted: his duty to himself had become one with his duty to -her. - -The more he reflected upon his situation, the more inevitable did this -necessity appear to him, and the more hopelessly entangled became the -various threads of his life. He plunged into gayety to drown his -tormenting thoughts; he devoted himself feverishly to work. After a -day's uninterrupted study he would pass the better part of the night in -dissipation or dancing. "If you could but see me," he wrote to a friend; -"my whole being was sunk in dancing. And yet could I but say I am -happy,--that would be better than all. 'Who is it can say, I am at the -worst?' says Edgar. That is some comfort, dear friend. My heart is like -a weathercock when a storm is rising and the gusts are changeable. All -is not clear in my soul. I am too curiously awake not to feel that I -grasp at shadows. And yet--to-morrow at seven my horse is saddled, and -then adieu!" - -The next morning he was on the road to Sesenheim. It was two weeks later -than the date of his promised visit, but he had previously lost so much -time, and he was so soon to take his degree, that it had been impossible -for him to leave the city. He had formed his resolution, and he was -about to put an end to all vacillations, and to the torture of -self-reproach and unmanly regrets, by confronting and accepting his -fate. He galloped along the familiar road in the early sunshine with a -concentrated bitterness at heart. This lover who rode at such a wild -pace to rejoin his betrothed and to bid her name the day of their union -was saying farewell to his freedom at every moment as he advanced. - -When he neared the parsonage, he saw in the garden a girl's figure -bending to prop up the falling stem of a rose-bush. Her back was towards -him, and her head was covered with her large, flat garden-hat. The noise -of his horse's hoofs startled her, and she turned quickly: it was Rahel. -Her face, which had regained its former child-like vivacity, beamed with -delight as she recognized him. "At last!" she cried, and she rose and -hastened towards him, dropping with a clatter on the gravel her -garden-scissors and spool. "How glad I am to see you! but you are a -naughty man to have made us wait so long. Oh, how happy they will all be -to know you have come! Will you dismount here? Wait, and I will call -Hans." And with a shrill little cry she summoned the servant to lead the -horse to the stable; then, shaking Goethe warmly by the hand, she went -with him into the house, exclaiming, as she entered, "Papa! Alide! -Mamma! Goethe has arrived!" - -He followed her as one in a dream: yes, this was his family; here was -his home; from to-day henceforward all this little circle was his own. -In the library they found the pastor, who welcomed him with the same -enthusiastic cordiality that Rahel had shown; and shortly after appeared -Frau Duroc. Her manner, less demonstrative than theirs, was unchanged in -its matronly dignity and kindness. - -"And Alide?" asked Goethe, as soon as he had greeted them all and -explained briefly the delay of his own visit. - -"She has not been quite herself of late," answered the mother; "though -she does not complain. She will be with us directly." - -As she spoke, Alide entered the room. Seeing her thus after a -separation, Goethe was for the first time conscious of the change that -had taken place in her appearance since he had known her. She had -developed into a beautiful, serious woman; her expression, no longer -that of joyous unconsciousness, was almost melancholy in its thoughtful -gravity. She must have been ill during the last three weeks, for her -face had grown noticeably thinner, and had lost entirely its glowing -bloom of color, while her large, brilliant eyes were hollow and sunken -in their orbits and encircled by ominous lines. At this moment, however, -a tranquil cheerfulness animated her countenance as she advanced towards -Goethe with her usual serene smile. She gave him her hand to kiss, and -welcomed him kindly, but with a certain reserve in her manner. She -questioned him about himself, his health, his vocations, his approaching -examination, everything that interested him, but shrank from all -allusion to herself. She denied emphatically that she had been suffering -or ill since her return home, and even in doing so a natural little -laugh and a momentary flush of color tended to confirm her words. - -In a short time the thread of Goethe's intercourse with the family -seemed resumed where it had last been dropped. The pastor, who -entertained an extravagant admiration and affection for him, found no -end of subjects on which to converse, and even to consult, with his -young friend. Rahel was once more lively and talkative, and Alide, -though unusually taciturn, seemed as cheerful as ever in Goethe's -presence. It was not till after dinner that he found himself alone with -her. - -"Alide, I must say a word to you before I return to Strasburg," he -began, hurriedly. "Had we not better go to your arbor?" - -An almost imperceptible shudder ran through her frame. "As you please, -Goethe," she answered; "though I scarcely think we should be interrupted -here." - -She had not yet called him Wolfgang in her old child-like, affectionate -tone. She went to fetch her hat, and in a few moments they were out of -the house together, walking through the fields. - -"Before we part again, Alide," said Goethe, in a dry, husky voice, "we -must put an end to this unsettled life, which places us both in a false -position and creates an unrest for the spirit that precludes all useful -activity. We are both very young to marry, I know, and perhaps your -parents will not find it fitting that you should leave them so early; -but I have reflected, and I think it best that we should be together as -soon as possible." - -What a poor little stiff speech it was, contrasted with the ardor and -fluency of his first passionate declaration! She listened quietly, -retaining to the end the same steadfast, unmoved expression. They had -reached the arbor, and they entered in silence and seated themselves -side by side. It was greener and shadier than when they had first met -there in the autumn; the golden lights that fell upon their two youthful -figures were rarer, but not less brilliant. A blue July haze hung over -the landscape. - -"I have a confession to make to you, dear friend," said Alide. Her voice -was low, even, and natural, save for a somewhat monotonous ring. "It -will give you pain, you will think me heartless and weak and foolish, -but some day you will thank me that I have spoken in season. A curious -change has taken place in me since I returned from Strasburg. I was able -to conceal from you, yes, even from myself, how difficult that -restricted conventional town-life was to me, but I was as happy as Rahel -when it was brought to an end. To see papa once more, the dear old -manse, the open meadows,--all this made my heart stir and leap as -nothing had since I left them. I had not been at peace with myself in -the city. Everything I had been accustomed to cherish seemed there of so -little account. And even you, Goethe, your enthusiasms were not mine, -your convictions were far different. Whenever you spoke of the -Cathedral, I felt a shock and a pang. All the sacred mysteries of our -faith, so inestimably precious to me, were naught to you. I was -distressed by a thousand conflicting ideas and emotions, I who had been -used to see all things simply and clearly. No, I was not happy there; -but here I have regained my former contentment and tranquillity. You, -dear friend, will advance on a brilliant, an unexampled career; but if I -be drawn from my proper element I shall suffocate and die. Is it not -better to part at the beginning of the roads, before they diverge too -widely? I also have seen something of unhappy marriages. You are not the -man, Goethe, to whom a woman should give herself with reserve and -restrictions. If I cannot say, 'Wherever you go, I will follow; for you -I will sacrifice my parents, my home, my pursuits, my life,--and it will -be no sacrifice, but a free and joyous gift,'--if I cannot say that, I -know that I have no right to call myself your wife." - -She paused, but Goethe was so amazed and bewildered that he made no -reply. He had listened to her in a sort of stupor, with his eyes fixed -upon the prospect below him, of which he saw nothing. Alide had made her -"confession" with as little sentiment as if she were reciting a studied -part: her face was unnaturally white, her hands rested listlessly upon -her straw hat, which she had taken off and laid upon her lap. But after -she had finished speaking, in the moment of silence that ensued, the -blood rushed into her cheeks, and a smile, as of the dawning of a new -hope, kindled her whole countenance. Still, he neither spoke nor turned -towards where she sat. The light died from her face, and a violent -shudder ran through her frame; she raised her hand, passed it twice -quickly over her brow and eyes, and then, almost involuntarily -outstretching it towards Goethe, clasped his own, and, with a -supplicating note in her voice strangely at variance with her cold -words, she cried, "But, oh, Goethe! surely you will not withdraw from me -your friendship?" - -He started, and looked at her for the first time during their interview: -her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes glittered with a peculiar light -which he had never seen in them before. Something of his old tenderness -of manner returned as he beheld the beautiful, agitated little face. - -"You foolish child," he began, and kissed the icy hand that rested upon -his own. "But no: I have not the right to speak to you in this way. You -are no child, but a noble, true-hearted woman. To speak the truth as you -have done, Alide, simply and fearlessly, requires something heroic. But -I will not abide by what you have said: perhaps you have not considered -deeply enough your own feelings, perhaps you have judged hastily our -mutual position. It is quite natural that you should experience pleasure -in seeing your father and your home again, even after so short a -separation. Your ideas are somewhat exalted, my child: it is not -expected of any woman that she should give up the instincts of her -heart, the tender associations of her childhood, even for the man she is -to wed. But take time, and reflect again, Alide. I shall not be present -to disturb your choice. At the end of a fortnight I will return, and -then, if your feelings have changed, you will know that I am still and -always your own." - -"But they will not change," she answered, with a quiet smile, as she -rose to her feet. - -They left the arbor in silence, as they had entered, and returned to the -house. On the way, however, she began to talk composedly of other -things. She made him pluck for her a wild flower that grew on the edge -of the brook, saying she had never remarked it before, and asking him -its botanical name and genus. He, on his part, was so excited and -confounded by what had taken place between them that he could not speak -naturally of anything. A burden had been lifted from his heart and his -brain, but nevertheless he could not repress a feeling of indignation at -seeing her so cold and indifferent. "To think that I was about to -sacrifice myself for one so volatile as that!" he said to himself. Then, -repeating unwittingly the very words that had occurred to her when they -parted at Strasburg, he thought, "This is the end. Can it be that she -really does not care?" And he looked at her keenly and scrutinizingly. - -No, there was not a trace of passion or grief on that pale, serene face. - - -The fortnight passed for Goethe in a whirl of activity. A day or two -after his visit to Sesenheim he took his degree, gaining his doctorate, -and carrying the victory with honor over his worthy opponent. He made -preparations at once for leaving Strasburg and returning to his father's -home in Frankfort. But, much as the presence of Alide had troubled him -of late, in her absence he could not cease to recall her myriad -attractions and lovable qualities: at every turn he missed her gentle, -affectionate companionship, her equable serenity, her tender, -unobtrusive kindness for himself. He wrote to her several times, but, -receiving no reply, he waited impatiently for the day of his return to -the parsonage, when he was to bid farewell to her for months or forever, -according to her own wish. Her silence, however, left him little doubt -as to her final decision. "Those were painful days," he wrote later, "of -which I remember nothing. When I held out my hand to her from my horse, -the tears were in her eyes, and I felt sad at heart." - -All was over: she would never cease to think of him with grateful -affection and esteem, but she could never be his. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -FREEDOM - - -It would be difficult for a person of moderate emotions or -well-disciplined temperament to conceive the thrilling sense of power -and freedom with which Goethe started on his journey from Strasburg to -Frankfort. Now at last the whole world was before him, and he was tied -down by no bond of duty to the period of his immaturity: now he was free -to develop all that he felt engendering and growing within him. Progress -and activity,--with those two watchwords, what could he not dare and -accomplish? He experienced, moreover, a purely animal sensation of -delight in his liberty, as he traveled over the rich and beautiful -country, reveling in the brilliant sunshine, the large air, and the -sweet smells of the spacious fields. There was something contagious in -the reckless exhilaration of his spirits, and all who met him were -impressed by the spectacle of this handsome, happy youth, gifted with an -organization of mind and body in which one could scarcely detect a -flaw, and seeming to enjoy unbounded delight in the mere consciousness -of existence. - -Mentally and physically he was in a condition of perfect health, and he -was thus fitted to receive impressions which modified for the rest of -his life his whole tone of thought. At Mannheim he saw in plaster, for -the first time, some of the masterpieces of Greek art, which from that -moment became for him the most beautiful type of the ideal. He made -companions of all whom he met by the way: now it was a learned -professor, now an enthusiastic artist, a handsome peasant-woman, a burly -farmer, or a prosaic burgher. He could find entertainment in the society -of all, or he could pass, with higher pleasure, hours of silence and -solitude among the relics of the Greeks, or in the open meadows. At -Mainz he fell in with a wandering harpist, and, as the lad was clever -and honest-faced, nothing would serve but that he must be Goethe's -minnesinger and his fellow-traveler for the rest of the journey, and -accept the hospitality of his father's house in Frankfort. So these two -odd companions fared merrily through the prosperous summer fields, -without the shadow of a care between them; and during all their progress -Goethe was so full of mad freaks and whims, and took such fantastic -pleasure in quaint disguises, and the poor harpist was so sanguine and -so elated, that it would have been hard to tell who of the happy pair -was the poet and who was the beggar. - - -When Alide, after bidding farewell to Goethe, turned in from the sunny -air which struck a chill through her every bone and nerve, she succeeded -with difficulty in mounting the stairs and reaching her room; but, as -she entered, a faint, short cry escaped her, and she fell upon the -floor. It was thus they discovered her, white as death, even to the -lips, with no other sign of life than the just-perceptible pulsation of -the heart. To their terror, they found it impossible to rouse her from -her swoon: at times her fingers would stir, or she would slowly change -the posture of an arm or a hand; but their beseeching, piteous glances -of grief and affection were answered by no gleam of consciousness from -her blank blue eyes, when the heavy lids were for a moment wearily -raised. - -They clad her in her night-dress and laid her on her bed, and through -the changeless, unnatural quiet of the darkened days, and the -oppressive, awful stillness of the creeping hours of night, they kept -watch beside her pillow, awaiting in sickening suspense the signs of -returning reason. She looked divinely peaceful in that mysterious -trance: the fragile physical frame seemed utterly exhausted and as if -broken, but so much the more ethereal was the spiritual calm that had -settled upon the exquisite, restful face. Is it true, then, that life is -the highest and the sweetest gift? Might not one hesitate to decide -whether it were better to win back to earth this almost disembodied -spirit, or rather thus quietly and painlessly to let her float into -eternal repose? - -But no such thoughts found entrance into the overwrought brain of the -mother, who, with wide, dry eves, was sitting now at midnight beside her -darling's prostrate form. She was the last watcher left awake in the -household: the pastor and his son, useless in the sick-room, had -succumbed to fatigue and anxiety and retired to seek a few hours' -forgetfulness. Rahel, her pale, troubled face still streaming with -tears, lay, utterly worn out, fast asleep on a couch near Alide's -bedside. Madame Duroc had sat for a long time motionless as Alide -herself, never turning her tearless, aching eyes away from her -unconscious child. Even now she suffered less through the realization of -her own approaching loss than through her overpowering maternal pity for -this passionate, broken young heart that had wrestled and endured alone. -She had had bitter, wicked thoughts in her weary vigil: the poor, pious -mother had been tempted to invoke curses upon the stranger who had -wrecked this precious life and had bereaved her own declining years. Now -she could no longer pray nor think; a dull despair had absorbed all her -faculties. - -Suddenly a change came upon the face of Alide; the serene expression was -replaced by a slight contraction of the brows, as though she suffered -pain; the lips, which had been relaxed almost into a smile, were drawn -closely together, and her hands, that had rested crossed over her -breast, fell by her sides. - -"My child! my child!" cried Madame Duroc, fancying that this was the -very shadow of death darkening over her daughter's face; and, clasping -her arms about Alide's neck, she raised her head from the pillow and -strained it to her breast amid a passion of tears and caresses. - -"What is the matter?" said Alide, in an almost inaudible voice. - -In an instant Rahel also was by the bedside. "Mamma! mamma!" whispered -she, "for God's sake, do not give way now!" - -Madame Duroc, recalled to herself by the pathetically feeble tones of -Alide, no less than by Rahel's appeal, was able to conquer her momentary -weakness. - -"Nothing, my darling," she answered, with sufficient composure. "You -have had a long sleep; I was watching you, and I woke you just then from -a painful dream." - -"Is that all?" asked Alide, wearily, again closing her eyes. "But, -mamma," she began in a little while, "you were mistaken. I was not -dreaming at all. I have been only resting for a long time. Oh, how tired -I was! Why did you wake me?" - -Madame Duroc tried to avoid answering her, and to quiet her into a -natural slumber. During several minutes Alide lay apparently at rest, -but all at once she turned, thoroughly awake, towards the other side of -the bed, where her sister sat. "Rahel," she asked, with the suspicious -curiosity of the sick, "why are you here at this hour? Is it not late -night? What are you both watching me for? Am I ill?" - -"No, sister," answered Rahel, soothingly. "You have been ill, but now -you are going to be well. Will you drink this little glass of tea for -us, and go to sleep again, Alide?" - -"Why not?" asked Alide, like a child; and, swallowing the draught which -Rahel gave her, she seemed to sink once more into unconsciousness. - -But forgetfulness was no longer to be hers. As she lay with closed eyes, -too tired to stir or speak, she lived over in her mind all the joy, the -disappointment, the struggle, and the agony. Her whole frame ached with -utter weariness, a dull, heavy pain oppressed her heart, and her brain -felt on fire with the whirl of thoughts that wrought it into -preternatural activity. If she could not find some relief from this -internal fever, she felt that she should go mad. She raised her eyes and -saw her mother and sister silently weeping; suddenly a yearning -compassion opened the flood-gates of her heart, and she burst into -tears. - -"Oh, mamma, let me weep!" she cried, as her mother tried to soothe her, -caressing her brow and tenderly kissing her burning eyelids. "It is -almost as good as rest itself to be able to weep at last!" - -When her paroxysm of grief passed over, she was almost lifeless with -exhaustion. "I cannot even weep any more," said she; "and yet all is so -sore about my heart. Everything seems dim and strange to me. I think I -am going to leave you. Rahel, come closer to me, by mamma, that I may -see you both." - -Her words were scarcely audible, and were continually interrupted by a -dry, hard sob. They each held one other cold, damp hands in theirs, -kissing it and weeping over it. - -"You must ask papa and Otto to come in and see me once more," she went -on, with great effort. "But first, mamma, will you promise me, and you -too, Rahel, before I go, to forgive _him_,--forgive him even in your -thoughts?--for it is not he who was to blame: he was generous and true -to the last; but it was not to be. I did not think this would be the end -of all those happy days. But, believe me, it is not his fault. Tell me -that you forgive him,--that you forgive me." - -What could Madame Duroc answer in the anguish of such a moment, save -that she would grant that touching prayer, for the sake of the very -child who had been his victim? But the effort had been too much for -Alide, and before her mother's words died in her ears she had relapsed -into a swoon. - - -And yet that hour was not the last, it was only the crisis of Alide's -existence. Slowly, gradually, and painfully they won her back to life. -It was a colorless and joyless life enough; and nevertheless she learned -that it could be endured, yes, even cherished, without the element of -hope or the possibility of happiness. The tender devotion of those -around her made her accuse herself on her knees to Heaven, of basest -ingratitude, if for a moment she succumbed to the hungry longing and -pain of her heart and wished that she had been permitted to drift away -from all trouble and desire. She learned the significance and the beauty -of those divine words,--duty and resignation; and, as the slow time wore -away, she even found that a quiet pleasure could steal into certain days -and shed a subdued radiance over her sheltered, monotonous life. She -found herself capable of a sympathy with the happiness of others, a calm -and serious enjoyment of much that had formerly delighted her, and a -pious satisfaction in the daily victory over her own heart. - -There was no need for her to retire behind the grated walls of a -convent. Hers were the constant chastity, the exalted faith, the meek -submission of the nun; but she found ample scope for the exercise of all -womanly virtue among those whose love had rescued her from the grave, in -her own pastoral home, where on every side she came in personal contact -with human trouble and human joy. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -LETTERS - - -A few weeks after Goethe's arrival in Frankfort he wrote the following -letter to Alide: - - - "FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAIN, Sept. 25, 1771. - -"MY DEAR FRIEND,--I have only an hour ago, and in a quite accidental -manner, heard of your recent illness. I can think of nothing else until -I have expressed the sympathy and concern which I feel for you, and -begged you to send me, as soon as you are able, a reassuring word of -your convalescence, or, still better, your complete restoration. -Fortunately for me, the tidings that you were already on the road to -recovery came at the same time with those of your attack: so I have been -spared the anxiety and suspense of thinking that a life which is so dear -to me is actually endangered. Nevertheless, a strange, superstitious -dread still haunts my heart, and my spirit is unaccountably oppressed. I -cannot help associating this illness, which comes so soon after my -departure, with the rupture of our affectionate, intimate relations. Can -it be that you have suffered through me,--you whom I retain in my memory -as an ideal of all that is precious and lovely in woman? I torment -myself with a thousand questions, a thousand useless surmises. Can it be -I who was to blame? I, who would not wittingly injure a hair of that -golden little head which I have so often pressed to my lips? Surely, my -friend, this may not be. And yet why does the thought constantly recur -to my mind? Was it not yourself who saw that our union was incongruous, -impossible? And since my return to Frankfort I am more than ever -convinced that all your views were just and correct. I feel ceaselessly -impelled to a larger and wider circle of activity; all is restless and -at boiling heat within me, everything seethes and ferments in my mind -and spirit. What I shall accomplish I scarcely know as yet, but I feel -that I shall accomplish much. I cannot sufficiently admire your courage -in confronting the necessity of our situation and daring to utter the -truth for the sake of our future welfare at the risk of so much present -pain. Meantime, dear friend, to whom I owe so many memorable hours of -tranquil happiness, do we not clasp hands in closest, warmest friendship -still? I long to hear from you the reassuring word, and am, with -heartfelt wishes for your speedy restoration to health, - - Your true - - "Goethe." - -"Please present my sincere regards to your dear parents, and recall me -to the recollection of my good Fräulein Rahel." - - -In due time he received the following reply: - - - "SESENHEIM, October 8, 1771. - -"MY DEAR FRIEND,--It is true that I have been ill; but I am already fast -regaining my former health and spirits, and I cannot be grateful enough -that my strength held out to the end. It was not till all was over that -I succumbed. I feel as one who has been dead, and I seem to have won the -right to speak to you from my heart without reserve or timidity, for the -last time. No, you are not to blame for the rupture of our relations: -reassure yourself on that point, dear friend. I have not to reproach you -with a harsh word, an unkind look, throughout the course of our year's -intimacy. Always gentle, generous, and noble, I will hold you in my -memory as I knew you. But when you praised me, Goethe, in the arbor, for -my 'heroism in speaking the truth fearlessly and simply,' every word I -had uttered was a lie. God pardon me! but never for a moment, since I -had first learned to love you, had I felt that I could not for your sake -sacrifice parents, home, and life itself to follow and to serve you. A -word, a gesture, a single impulse of the old tenderness, would have -brought me to your side again, and made me deny every word I had that -minute spoken. But it was not to be, and I knew it before I began. It -was not there that I renounced you. I could easily then assume -indifference, for the blow had long since been struck. It was in -Strasburg, the day after your visit from Herr Breitkopf, that I said -farewell to you in my heart. From that morning I knew that all was at an -end between us. I watched you closely, jealously, and everything -confirmed my fears. As soon as I was assured of the truth, I took my -resolution. Dearly as I loved you, I could not have borne from you the -cold neglect, the daily slights and wounds, which I foresaw from a -continuation of our existing relations. I wronged you, Goethe: you were -generous and upright to the last; but I knew that to ask me in marriage -was a sacrifice of your dearest hopes and aspirations. Could I accept a -union without love or sympathy? Not only for your sake, but selfishly -for my own, I knew that I must reject it absolutely then and there. I -thank God again and again that my purpose held firm, my strength endured -till the end. Cease to reproach yourself, dear friend: these are events -that could not have been foreseen. How could we choose but love each -other? But you were destined for a lofty career, and God will chasten me -for my foolish weakness. - -"I have indeed been very ill, and caused my poor mother and all around -me much anxiety. I am glad to be well again, for their sake and for my -own. I could not have died with that lie upon my lips. I have not -suffered much: it was nothing but a great weariness and exhaustion; and -it has now passed away entirely. - -"Rahel is to be married in a fortnight. Poor papa and mamma will be so -lonely without her that it is a comfort to me to be with them. As long -as I feel that my life is useful and almost necessary to these who are -so dear to me, I cannot be quite unhappy. But I shall always be alone. -The heart that has once loved Goethe can never love again. - -"Pray do not write to me; it is best that we should remain apart. Only -believe in the friendship of - - "ALIDE DUROC." - - -"Alide's answer," says Goethe, "to the letter in which I had bidden her -adieu tore my heart. I now for the first time became aware of her -bereavement, and saw no possibility of alleviating it. She was ever in -my thoughts; I felt that she was wanting to me, and, worst of all, I -could not forgive myself. Gretchen had been taken from me, Annette had -left me; but now for the first time I was guilty: I had wounded to its -very depths one of the most beautiful and tender of hearts. And that -period of gloomy repentance, bereft of the love which had so invigorated -me, was agonizing, insupportable. But man will live. Under the broad, -open sky, on the heights or in the valleys, in the fields and through -the woods, my mind regained some of its calmness. I almost lived on the -road, wandering between the mountains and the plains. Often I went -alone, or in company, right through my native city, as though I were a -stranger in it, dining at one of the great inns in the High Street, and -after dinner pursuing my way. I turned more than ever to the open world -and to nature; there alone I found comfort." - - - - -EPILOGUE - - -Late in the afternoon of the 24th of September, 1779, two young men -alighted from the diligence in the court-yard of one of the principal -inns in Strasburg. There was enough resemblance between them for a -stranger to have supposed them to be brothers, though one seemed not -less than thirty, and the other scarcely past his majority. Both had the -same type of face,--handsome in outline, open, joyous, and animated in -expression; but that of the elder had the advantage of exquisite -refinement and extraordinary intellect. He was not remarkably tall, but -the proportions of his figure were remarkable, and there was something -majestic in the pose of his head. His companion, shorter, stouter, and -more commonplace in appearance, was, nevertheless, a noble-looking -fellow. Though by so much the younger of the two, he seemed to receive -from his companion the trifling kindnesses which one traveler can render -another, with the unconscious grace and dignity of one who is accustomed -to be served. A frank equality of friendship must have existed between -them, for they used the brotherly _Thou_ in conversation; but at times a -just-perceptible tone of deference in the voice of the elder implied -some inferiority of station. The elder of these two young men was -Geheimrath Goethe, the author of "Götz von Berlichingen," "Werther," -and "Iphigenia;" and his fellow-traveler was Prince Karl August, Duke of -Saxe-Weimar. - -The Prince had violated all regulations of court etiquette by starting -incognito on a pleasure-excursion to Switzerland with his inseparable -friend. They had already stopped at Frankfort, and visited Goethe's -home, and from thence had come by short and easy stages to Strasburg. -Having shaken off the dust of their journey and refreshed themselves at -the inn, they set out for a walk through the city after sunset. Goethe -had not been here since he had bidden farewell to Alide, eight years -ago: everything recalled vividly to his mind her beautiful personality -and that brief and happy episode of his life. He began by narrating to -the Duke some pleasant incidents of his residence and studies here, but -gradually, as the twilight deepened, the two friends fell into a serious -conversation on the subjects which they most enjoyed discussing -together,--philosophy, religion, art, and even love. The image of Alide, -an insubstantial, mocking vision, floated continually before Goethe: he -could not banish the recollection of all the joy, passion, and misery -crowded into one year for that poor little generous soul. - -The two young men mounted to the platform of the Cathedral after the -moon had risen; and there, softened by so many sweet and sad -reminiscences, Goethe opened his heart to his friend, and confided the -story of his love for Alide,--pointing out in the wide-lying country, -illuminated by that silver light, the spot, far beyond the city, where, -shadowed by its mountains, lay the village of Sesenheim. He would go -to-morrow and satisfy himself as to how that kindly family fared, and -whether they still held a friendly remembrance of him; and he begged -Karl August to accompany him on his day's jaunt. But the Prince said it -was not fitting that he should be present at the reunion of such old -acquaintances. Goethe must go, but he must go alone: if he were coldly -received, he would not be mortified before his friend; and if he met -with a cordial greeting, he would be sure that it was owing to a sincere -regard for himself, "and not," added the Duke, modestly, "to the -obligation of extending hospitality to a stranger." - -The next day, at noon, Goethe started on his ride to Drusenheim. He left -his horse at the inn, and approached the parsonage, just as he had done -years before, in the glow of an autumn afternoon. It might have been -yesterday that he was here, for all the changes that had taken place in -the house or its surroundings. The roses bloomed in the garden, the -woodbine flourished over the porch, the same air of serene prosperity -enveloped orchard and vineyard and shining meadow; the immortal purple -light streamed again on the luxuriant slopes of the far-away mountains. - -A little girl, some five or six years old, was playing with her doll in -the garden. As Goethe entered the gate, she was about to run into the -house; but he called her back gently. - -"Do not be afraid, my little friend. Does the Pastor Duroc live here -still?" - -Reassured by his winning voice, she turned towards him, but, without -advancing, waited until he reached her. He patted her on the head, and, -looking into the wondering, upturned face, he saw a curious blending of -the faces he so well remembered. The child had the golden hair, Saxon -mouth, and broad cheeks of Waldstein, and the dark, brilliant eyes and -rich complexion of Rahel. Goethe had never seen a more dainty, exquisite -little creature. - -"Will you take me into the house?" said he. "I am an old friend of your -grandpapa's, and I should love dearly to see him again. And your -mamma,--is she at home?" - -"I have no mamma," answered the child, quietly, without taking her eyes -from the stranger's face. "How funny his hair is,--all in rings!" she -was saying to herself. - -The shock of her words was so great to Goethe, as he stood in the bright -sunshine, expecting momently to see the laughing face of Rahel beam out -upon him from the door or the window, that the sudden tears started in -his eyes. All that exuberant life and spirit already passed from earth! -He was afraid to ask the child any more questions; but she had taken -such a fancy to his appearance that she was bold enough to begin -prattling herself. "Papa is away; but all the rest are at -home,--grandpapa, and grandmamma, and Aunt Alide." And, with a charming -confidence that made Goethe smile again, she put her tiny hand in his. - -"Come, and I will take you to the house," she said: "if you knew mamma, -I am sure they will be glad to see you; you must be a very, very old -friend. I never knew her myself, and I am nearly seven years old. But -who shall I tell them is here?" - -"I am Herr Goethe," answered he. "Shall you remember that name, my -clever little girl? Tell your grandmamma that Goethe is here." - -He entered the library with his heart beating high in his breast. What -changes he must expect to find in this household where already a breach -had been made! He could not realize that Rahel was dead: it seemed -impossible that she should not enter this room, where everything -reminded him so vividly of her picturesque presence. A cheerful cry of -welcome startled him from the gloomy reflections into which he had -fallen, and the pastor stood before him with outstretched hands. He was -much moved to see again Goethe, who could not fail to remark the traces -of age and trouble in the old man's demeanor and appearance. The -greeting of Madame Duroc was not less friendly and hearty than that of -her husband, though her manner was quieter and more composed. - -Immediately after her came Alide. She was still beautiful, though she -had matured and suffered so much since he had seen her. Her face was -paler and more delicate, but the large gray eyes had lost none of their -soft, tender radiance; her form was slender, and seemed to have gained -height and graceful stateliness, owing to the difference in her costume, -for she wore a long French gown. The little girl was with her, hand in -hand, and Alide advanced to meet her old lover with as much dignity and -frank pleasure as if she were a young mother. After she had welcomed him -she brought forth the child, saying, with a smile, "I believe you have -already made friends with Fräulein Clara;" and then added, in a low -voice, "We think she looks like her dear mother: do you find it so? -Come, Clärchen, you must shake hands with this gentleman, and when you -grow to be an old, old woman like grandmamma, you can boast that you -have shaken hands with the great Goethe." - -"Why do you put such foolish ideas in the young one's head?" said -Goethe, laughing, but with visible embarrassment. "We are already good -friends, as you say, and you must not make her afraid of me. It is your -aunt who is great," he said to the child, as he bent and kissed her -forehead to conceal his agitation; "and may you grow to be as true and -noble a woman as she is!" - -Goethe's own words will best describe the remainder of the day which he -passed at the parsonage: "On the 25th I rode towards Sesenheim, and -there found the family which I had left eight years ago. I was welcomed -in the most friendly manner. The second daughter loved me in those days -better than I deserved, and more than others to whom I have given so -much passion and faith. I was forced to leave her at a moment when it -nearly cost her her life: she passed lightly over that episode, to tell -me what traces still remained of the old illness, and behaved with such -exquisite delicacy and generosity from the moment I stood before her -unexpected on the threshold, that I felt quite relieved. I must do her -the justice to say that she made not the slightest attempt to rekindle -in my bosom the cinders of love. She led me into the arbor, and there we -sat down. It was a lovely moonlight, and I inquired after every one and -everything. Neighbors had spoken of me not a week ago. I found old songs -which I had composed, and a carriage which I had painted. We recalled -many a pastime of those happy days, and I found myself as vividly -conscious of all as if I had been away only six months. The old people -were frank and hearty, and thought me looking younger. I stayed the -night there, and departed at dawn, leaving behind me friendly faces, so -that I can now think once more of this corner of the world with comfort, -and know that they are at peace with me." - - - - -THE END - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALIDE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/69539-0.zip b/old/69539-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ed92499..0000000 --- a/old/69539-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69539-h.zip b/old/69539-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cc36f86..0000000 --- a/old/69539-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69539-h/69539-h.htm b/old/69539-h/69539-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 120d36f..0000000 --- a/old/69539-h/69539-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6069 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> -<head> -<meta charset="UTF-8"> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Alide: an episode of Goethe's life -by Emma Lazarus.</title> - -<link href="images/cover.jpg" rel="icon" type="image/x-cover"> - -<style> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; - text-indent:4%; -} - -.nind {text-indent:0%;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -.blockquote { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; - margin-top: 5%; - margin-bottom: 5% -} - -.poem { - margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; - text-align: left; -} - -.poem br {display: none;} -.poetry { text-align: center; } -.poem { display: inline-block; text-align: left; } -.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} -.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i20 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - - </style> -</head> - -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Alide, by Emma Lazarus</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Alide</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>an episode of Goethe's life.</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Emma Lazarus</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 14, 2022 [eBook #69539]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Laura Natal Rodrigues (Images generously made available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALIDE ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" alt="500"> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/alide_frontispiece.jpg" width="500" alt="500"> -</div> - -<h1>ALIDE</h1> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h3>AN EPISODE OF GOETHE'S LIFE.</h3> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h4>BY</h4> - -<h2>EMMA LAZARUS,</h2> - -<h5>AUTHOR OF "ADMETUS, AND OTHER POEMS," ETC.</h5> - -<p><br><br></p> - -<h4>PHILADELPHIA:</h4> - -<h4>J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.</h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h5> -Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by<br> -J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.,<br> -In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. -</h5> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h5>TO MY FRIEND,</h5> -<h3>MRS. HOOPER,</h3> -<h4>THIS STORY<br> -IS AFFECTIONATELY AND GRATEFULLY<br> -INSCRIBED.</h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>PREFACE</h4> - -<p> -It seems hardly necessary, but it may prevent misunderstanding, to state -that I have incorporated in the ensuing pages whole passages from the -autobiography of Goethe. Wherever it has been possible, he has been -allowed to speak for himself, and thus no imagination has been exercised -in the portrayal of his character. "Alide Duroc," on the contrary, is a -purely imaginary creation, though her story is that of Frederika Brion. -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">THE AUTHOR.</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>CONTENTS</h4> -<p class="nind"> -CHAPTER I -<a href="#chap01">Dr. Julius Steck</a><br> - -CHAPTER II -<a href="#chap02">The Parsonage</a><br> - -CHAPTER III -<a href="#chap03">Alide</a><br> - -CHAPTER IV -<a href="#chap04">A Moonlight Walk</a><br> - -CHAPTER V -<a href="#chap05">Goethe</a><br> - -CHAPTER VI -<a href="#chap06">First Love</a><br> - -CHAPTER VII -<a href="#chap07">In Strasburg</a><br> - -CHAPTER VIII -<a href="#chap08">Happiness</a><br> - -CHAPTER IX -<a href="#chap09">After-thoughts</a><br> - -CHAPTER X -<a href="#chap10">Quiet Pleasures</a><br> - -CHAPTER XI -<a href="#chap11">In the Shadow of the Cathedral</a><br> - -CHAPTER XII -<a href="#chap12">Hamlet</a><br> - -CHAPTER XIII -<a href="#chap13">The Clouds gather</a><br> - -CHAPTER XIV -<a href="#chap14">A Strange Interview</a><br> - -CHAPTER XV -<a href="#chap15">Drifting Apart</a><br> - -CHAPTER XVI -<a href="#chap16">Parting</a><br> - -CHAPTER XVII -<a href="#chap17">Freedom</a><br> - -CHAPTER XVIII -<a href="#chap18">Letters</a><br> - -<a href="#Epilogue">Epilogue</a></p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>ALIDE</h4> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I -<br><br> -DR. JULIUS STECK</h4> - -<p> -"If it were not that I must play true to my clerical gown, Max, I could -for very delight in the glory of this October afternoon caper one of my -lately-learned waltzes on the roadside. Gods! what a gift life is on -such a day as this! Do, you not feel this mountain air tingling like wine -through your veins? My blood is all aglow within me—my heart is as -light as flame." It was a rich, vibrant, sonorous voice, and yet it had -a boyish ring of merriment that seemed in no wise to belong to the -soberly-clad student who walked demurely by his companion's side through -the quiet, shining meadows. -</p> -<p> -"Julius Steck!" exclaimed his comrade, who spoke with a lazy, -good-humored drawl, "for the love of sport remember who and what you -are. A learned young bachelor of divinity to begin by invoking the -heathen gods,—to yearn after a waltz in the open fields, and a heart -like flame, forsooth! a pretty thing to carry into a country parsonage -to kindle a conflagration among the lasses!" -</p> -<p> -"Nay, Max," returned the other, "I will be grave enough when occasion -requires. How could I so soon forget my last and dearest sweetheart -behind us in the city,—the Minster of Strasburg? Is not this the -first bright afternoon since early June that we two have not mounted at -sunset to that spacious platform high above the dusky streets, and -quaffed our Rhenish to the dying day? And you fancy that I will throw -away a heart devoted to the loyal service of my Lady of the Cathedral on -the first pair of apple-colored cheeks and china-blue eyes that we meet -on the wayside? Besides," he added, with a sudden mock gravity, "do I -look like a fellow to captivate a pretty damsel?" And he doffed his -broad-brimmed clerical hat and looked full and squarely at Max. -</p> -<p> -Was the lad a consummate actor who could, assume at will whatever -countenance he desired, or was this expression of sheepish pedantry -natural to the possessor of that resonant voice? It must have been -clever pantomime, for as Max saw it he burst into uncontrollable -laughter, that resounded with jolly echoes through the responsive air. -The outline of the face from brow to throat was delicate and strong as -that of a young Greek god, and yet a ludicrous and almost homely effect -was given by the sleek brown locks combed smoothly back from the temples -and turned behind the ears, by the thickly-framed gold spectacles which -obstructed any gleam from the dark eyes behind them, and, above all, by -this prim look of mingled shrewdness and timidity. He was taller than -his companion, but the proportions of his figure were concealed by the -long black gown, which formed the principal part of his costume as a -theological student. -</p> -<p> -"Capital, capital, Dr. Steck!" exclaimed Max, clapping his hand on the -young bachelor's shoulder. "But make haste and cover your head, for in a -few moments we shall be in sight of the parsonage. And yet I can hardly -say whether you are best with or without that hideous plate of a hat. At -any rate, I am not responsible for whatever happens while you are in my -charge. I warn you beforehand that the girls are pretty and engaging, -and as for them, if they can listen to—yes, or look with patience -on—such an infernal Jesuitical milksop, I will wash my hands of them -all." -</p> -<p> -They walked on for a few minutes in silence, Max with his hand still -resting affectionately on Steck's shoulder, and Steck with his head -upraised, eagerly inhaling the honeyed air of the harvest-fields, and, -with the eyes of an artist rather than of a boy just turned twenty, -gazing at the green and purple masses and sun-bathed outlines of the -peaks that stood out against the pale gold sky. There was just enough -breeze to make a continuous rustle and murmur in the glistening leaves -overhead, and to send long-rolling ripples and waves of motion over the -grass of the wide-lying meadows. A clear bird-carol now and then, the -incessant all-pervading drone of the crickets, at intervals the merry -laughter of voices in a far-away meadow, prolonged by the myriad echoes -of the neighborhood,—these sweet out-door sounds were all that broke -upon the ears of the two young men; and the gentleness, the peace, the -unspeakable beauty of the October landscape seemed to gain upon them, -and to overpower with quieting suggestions even the exuberant buoyancy -of spirits natural to their age. -</p> -<p> -Max Waldstein was a genial, open-hearted fellow of two or three and -twenty. A square, somewhat receding brow, wide blue eyes, a -highly-colored complexion, a round, fair, curly head, set off with -coarse and prominent ears, a large mouth, adorned with healthy white -teeth, a thick, well-shaped nose, and a projecting jaw, overgrown with a -reddish-yellow beard,—all these formed an excellent index to the mind -and character of the young law-student, who had attached himself almost -as to a girl to the magnetic, myriad-sided nature of his fellow-lodger, -the boy-artist. New and unaccountable to plain Max were the mercurial -moods, the exaltations and despondencies, the irrepressible, child-like -delight occasioned by such simple things as a burst of sunlight on a -cloudy day, the sudden, unexpected song of a bird, a glimpse of a fair -woman-face, a rhyme of some old poet, a shade of color on some faded -canvas, or, above all, the outlines and structure of Strasburg -Cathedral. But Waldstein made no attempt to follow or fathom the -caprices of his imaginative friend. Like many others in that grave old -minster-shadowed city, he was led out of himself into an enthusiasm of -admiration and affection for the brilliant, beautiful young favorite of -the gods, who, bringing all the gifts, had burst upon Strasburg and -taken up his abode there early in the preceding spring. Numberless were -the holiday excursions planned by these two youthful heads and enjoyed -with a wide circle of boon companions, the spice of such amusements -being not unfrequently heightened by an escapade somewhat wilder than -usual, an adventure of more than ordinary daring, on the part of the -younger of the two. Max's only gift, a shrewd, practical sense, enabled -him readily to discern the qualities of those around him, and a loyal, -generous nature, unspoiled by affectation or envy, brought him into -sympathy with men of far higher capacities than his own. With whimsical -self-depreciation, he was forever wishing to display the endless talents -and attractions of his comrade, who must be brought forth into the light -at all costs, forgiven any mad prank, and allowed to follow his pleasure -as he chose, in consideration of the halo about his head and the -tenderness of his heart. "Let us make the most of the lad while he is -with us," Waldstein would say; "such a youth is not for our little -Strasburg circle of good fellows. What can he not do? What does he not -adorn in touching? It rests but with himself to be the painter, the poet, -the tragedian, the statesman—what do I know?—the genius of the -age. Come, comrades, let us up to his room now, and drag him from his -jurisprudence, and make a day of it on the river." -</p> -<p> -We all know that in later years neither the sweetest allurements nor the -sharpest trials could swerve this royal nature from its chosen path of -serenity and wisdom. But at this early period, with the fulness of so -rich a life seething in his veins, in the first fresh wonder and -delight, with every wreath of honor awaiting apparently but the reach of -his outstretched hand to claim and bind it about his brow, who shall say -that the intoxication did not mount to his exalted brain, engendering a -boyish vanity and self-consciousness, sending through his frame an -occasional thrill of not ignoble pride in the very wealth of his own -personality? -</p> -<p> -For many weeks Waldstein had been trying to prevail upon his friend to -accompany him to the parsonage, some six leagues beyond Strasburg, where -he was wont to spend much of his leisure time, invariably descanting -after his visit upon the hospitality of Pastor Duroc and his wife and -the beauty of the country surrounding their home, and occasionally -letting slip a significant allusion to the charms of the elder daughter, -Rahel. But the boy had always an excuse for declining: he must go study -the Cathedral, and work out the unexecuted conception of the architect's -brain in leaving incomplete that bold and aerial spire; he must prepare -himself for the approaching examination, and devote himself more -assiduously to his ponderous volumes of jurisprudence, for which he had -originally come to Strasburg; or now was the moment to saunter down to -the river-side and add a few strokes to his sketch of the city at -sunset. Finally, when Max had ceased to press the point, the capricious -lad one morning proposed the visit himself. His delicate fancy had been -aroused the previous evening by an exquisite prose idyl which he had -read before he slept. It was a translation recently made of a story of -English clerical life. The homely pathos, the quaint simplicity, the -pleasing variety of natural incidents that enlivened the sprightly flow -of the narrative, the healthy atmosphere that breathed of trim, inland, -hawthorn-hedged meadows, all these wrought upon his lightly-moved spirit -and gave him the desire to transport himself to kindred scenes. Early in -the morning he burst into Waldstein's room with the "Vicar of Wakefield" -in his hand. -</p> -<p> -"Read it at once!" he exclaimed; "there is art, there is nature! How -many of our dreary German treatises cannot this little book outweigh -with its searching insight, its naïf truthfulness! Here is a page of -life that I have never studied,—never known. While I have been musing -in the grim shadow of the Minster, and trying to animate the iron-handed -heroes of a mediæval age, what have I overlooked! The smiling fields, -the endless minutiæ of a thousand happy homes, the passions, the joys, -the troubles, that surround me on every side. Max, dear Max, may I go -with you to the Durocs'?" -</p> -<p> -Waldstein could scarcely refrain from smiling at the wistful tone in -which the question was asked. It was like the lad to crave that as a -grace which it was but a pleasure to confer. He had as many coaxing, -affectionate tricks of voice and manner as a woman. Max assented with -delight, and named that very day for the excursion. And now his comrade, -full of odd freaks, begged to be allowed to go, not as the wild -boy-artist of Strasburg, but as a serious student of these pious, -pastoral lives. Thus was the harmless incognito contrived, and thus it -was that Max was escorting his friend, disguised as a theological -scholar and bearing the name of Dr. Julius Steck, to the home of the -Durocs. -</p> -<p> -Steck was the first to interrupt the sweet quietness which was not -silence. "How beautifully clear is this little mountain-brook alongside -of us!" he said. "See, it has followed us all the way from the -Drusenheim inn." -</p> -<p> -"I should rather say," answered Waldstein, "that we have followed it; -and in truth it is the surest guide for us: as we keep along this path, -bearing its channel always in sight, the first bend in its course will -bring us in view of our goal." -</p> -<p> -A few paces more led them to the curve, and then only a single narrow -field lay between them and the parsonage. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II -<br><br> -THE PARSONAGE</h4> - -<p> -It looked more like an ancient farm-house than the home of the parish -priest, and was separated by a considerable distance from the village -church, whose humble spire and glittering vane peered above the -clustered trees beyond. It seemed a very antique and weather-stained -homestead, but wore rather the quaint picturesqueness that just precedes -decay, than the actual dilapidation of ruin itself. It would have been -hard to tell with what color it had originally been decorated, for it -was now sunburned and rain-washed into a streaky, sombre gray, to which -this gorgeous October light gave a certain mellow warmth of its own; and -the walls were so covered with the glossy leaves of the ivy, the porch -was so overgrown with the interlocked stems of the honeysuckle, that -comparatively little of the dwelling itself was left bare. In front was -a small, carefully-tended garden, where the autumn roses were glowing; -but nearly all the adjacent grounds were devoted to what would have -seemed the interests of a goodly farm; the gray old orchard rich with -red and yellow globes twinkling among the branches or lying half buried -in the soft turf below; the vine-trellises beyond, with their large, -dusky leaves, bearing their splendid blue and golden-green fruitage -freely in the open air; and on the other side of the house, the thriving -kitchen-garden with its stripes of varied verdure,—all prosperously -basking in the radiant sunshine of harvest-tide. Some of the windows -were thrown open for the air and light to play through the dwelling; -from one of them a white curtain, detached from its fastenings, was -blowing. A perky little hen, with her brood close after her, was -strutting along the garden-lane and pecking near the walls of the manse, -but no other living creature seemed to be stirring about the premises. -</p> -<p> -"A queer, quiet old place it is," said Steck, taking in all the details -at a glance. -</p> -<p> -"Yes," said Waldstein, dryly; "it is younger inside." -</p> -<p> -The gate was open, and they walked noiselessly through, frightening the -hen and her young ones into a brisk trot towards the barnyard. They had -almost reached the doorway before they saw, half reclining on a long -wooden bench in the porch, the portly figure of the pastor, his face -concealed by a large volume held up before his eyes. -</p> -<p> -"Good-evening, Father Duroc," cried Max. -</p> -<p> -Their host started, let fall his book from before him, and disclosed a -jovial, weak, handsome face, but little marked by age, whose thick dark -eyebrows and rosy coloring contrasted strikingly with the pure white of -his unpowdered hair. -</p> -<p> -"I have taken you by surprise this time," said Waldstein, "and have -brought my friend, Dr. Julius Steck, of Frankfort. He is a serious -fellow, young as he looks; one after your own heart, an indefatigable -student, who wishes thoroughly to examine our parochial customs before -he enters upon his active duties." -</p> -<p> -"Welcome! welcome both!" said the pastor, heartily, giving each a hand. -"Any friend of yours, Waldstein, has, you know, a double welcome, and -Dr. Steck could not have found a better place to complete his studies -than the oldest parsonage in Alsace, though the vicar says it himself." -</p> -<p> -"I shall be proud to put myself under your guidance," said Steck, with -becoming modesty. "Your well-known research, your profound——" -</p> -<p> -"Tut! tut!" interrupted the pleased pastor. "I have but looked into such -scant volumes as strayed across my path. But an apt and ardent scholar -is my delight, and such a one is a rarity in these superficial days. Ah, -Waldstein, your eyes are wandering after the lasses, I'll be bound. They -have strolled off with the Mütterchen toward the brook-side to enjoy -this bright afternoon. But we can have a good hour's chat in the library -before they return." -</p> -<p> -"We heard their laughter as we came along from Drusenheim," said -Waldstein. "If Otto be not with them, why could not I? Might they not be -pleased——" -</p> -<p> -"I see your drift," exclaimed the pastor. "Well, be off to the meadows, -young gallant, and bring them safely home; they will all be glad to see -thee. Meantime, this serious youth and I will discuss our graver -matters." -</p> -<p> -Max, with a roguish glance at Steck, ran off like a dismissed schoolboy -down the slope behind the house, and was almost immediately out of sight -in the dip of the valley below. Steck, however, with his head full of -the "Vicar of Wakefield," and possessing in the highest degree the -artist's capacity to invest with interest the most commonplace of -characters, was delighted at the prospect of a conversation with the Dr. -Primrose of Sesenheim. -</p> -<p> -"I do not wonder, sir," he began, "that you have brought your literature -to so attractive a seat. I, too, often make my studies in the open air; -not that my eyes will wander from my beloved manuscript, but I fancy -that the mind has there a larger scope, a clearer perception, a stronger -energy of retention." -</p> -<p> -"Surely, surely," assented the pastor. "I am fully of your opinion, Dr. -Steck. So, since it pleases you, we will take our seats here in the -porch. At this genial season, the hospitality of my home extends far -beyond the shelter of my roof-tree, over all these shining acres." And -he waved his hand with a natural pride towards the smiling landscape. -</p> -<p> -"You are perhaps surprised," he went on, garrulously, "to find me so -miserably quartered in a wealthy village and with a lucrative benefice. -Long since, it has been promised me by the parish, and even by those in -higher places, that the house shall be rebuilt; many plans have been -already drawn, examined, and altered,—none of them altogether -rejected, and none carried into execution. This has lasted so long that -I scarcely know how to control my impatience." -</p> -<p> -"Perhaps," suggested Steck, "if you were to display a little impatience, -you might sooner succeed in forcing them to pursue the affair more -vigorously." -</p> -<p> -"Ah!" sighed the pastor, with an air of discouragement, "you do not know -with what people I have to deal. The duke is away the better part of the -year, hunting, traveling, killing time as he best may. Herr Klug, the -former intendant, was anxious enough to promote the welfare of the -parish. Indeed, it was he who proposed the renovation of the manse; then -were the plans drawn and deliberated upon; but before we could come to -any decision he was removed, to make way for a French successor, M. -Guédin. 'Well, Käthchen,' said I to Mother Duroc, 'we can congratulate -ourselves now,—we shall soon have a spruce new parsonage when this -active young fellow takes the lead.' 'Wait to whistle till you are out -of the wood, Moritz,' said the prudent mother, and she was right. It was -only the last new idea that M. Guédin could seize with any interest. -When he saw the many difficulties to be overcome, and heard of the many -tastes to be consulted, it was too much for the Gallic genius, and he -has long betaken himself to more congenial occupations." -</p> -<p> -"But your people," interposed Steck, highly amused at the old man's -naïf confidence, "why should not they co-operate to secure their pastor -a more comfortable home? Though for my part, sir, the beauty of this -picturesque old farmstead, the thoroughly German character of its -construction, please me so much that I should be loth to hear of a -change." -</p> -<p> -"Ay, lad," returned the pastor, "it is well for you, who come and take a -glance at the outside, to fall into ecstasies over the woodbine on the -porch, the moss on the tiles, the wee diamonds set in the heavy gables -that form our windows. But it is an inconvenient picturesqueness for the -pastor, where a few stout beams of oak, some moderate-sized panes of -glass, and a couple of serviceable chimneys might remedy all. But come -in with me, and examine for yourself how we fare." -</p> -<p> -With these words he rose and led Steck into the house. They passed -through a commodious hall, furnished like a room with rugs and seats, -into the library, where the late sunshine was streaming. Steck was so -delighted with the quaint wooden bookcases, the high mantel-shelf with -its painted tiles, and the tokens on every side of the habitual presence -of youth and womankind,—the flowers in the windows, the festoons of -fresh ivy between the prettily-designed landscapes, the open -harpsichord, with the last song still upon it, the charming disorder of -the tables, scattered with books, writing-materials, sketching-crayons, -and embroidery,—that he did not care to note that the deep-ledged -windows were indeed somewhat out of date, the ceilings stained and -smoked, and the furniture worn and shabby. -</p> -<p> -"I cannot help it, sir," he said, turning to the pastor with a -deprecating smile, "but I think it all charming. And what a glorious -outlook from this westward window!" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, yes," answered the pastor, a little testily, "the outlook is good -enough; it is as fair a site as any in Alsace." And all his good humor -returned as he leaned with his guest over the broad sill and looked out -at the rich spread of vineyard, stream, and meadow, terminated by the -gorgeous boundary of the Vosges, with their aerial outlines and -indescribable luxuriance of tint glowing in the last rays of the -sunsetting. -</p> -<p> -"Here be our saunterers coming along the road," said he, shading his -eyes with his hand. "But where could they have left Alide?" -</p> -<p> -Steck looked at the figures advancing through the fields, and recognized -Waldstein foremost, in apparently earnest colloquy with his companion, -a tall, slender woman attired in sober colors. In his mind he -immediately named her the charming Rahel, and could scarcely repress a -smile at the staid, demure character of the attractions that had -captivated his friend's fancy. A few paces behind them hastened a -younger figure, with bright-colored ribbons flying and white skirt -gleaming between the bushes and tree-trunks as she came along. She had -loitered to gather some field-flowers; and as she almost ran forward to -rejoin her companions, she seemed in Steck's eyes a very Ruth, with her -blue and red blossoms in her hand, and her wide straw hat dangling from -her head and encircling like an aureole the dark-brown locks. -</p> -<p> -"There she is, sir," said Steck, who thought the pastor must have failed -to see this young girl, lingering purposely, as he was pleased to -imagine, behind the sweethearts. -</p> -<p> -"No," said Dr. Duroc, "that is Rahel." Then with a sudden burst of -laughter, clapping Steck upon the shoulder, he exclaimed, "I see your -mistake! It will make a gallant compliment for Käthchen when she comes -in. It is not the first time the mother has been said to look as young -as her daughters." Before Steck had time to reply, the couple entered -the room. -</p> -<p> -"Here is a young fellow, Kitty," said the blunt pastor, "who has -mistaken you for your own child. Madame Duroc, Dr. Julius Steck." -</p> -<p> -"I am glad to see you, sir," said madame, shaking his hand cordially. -</p> -<p> -In spite of her slight figure, he could see now that the beauty of her -intelligent countenance was indeed somewhat faded. She scrutinized him -narrowly with a woman's alert intuition, very different from the -unsuspecting confidence of the pastor; but, turning to her husband, she -went on, kindly, "You always have your jest, Moritz; but you will make -the young gentleman blush if you expose so freely his mistakes. Has -Alide come home yet?" -</p> -<p> -"No," answered the pastor, with surprise; "I thought she was with you." -</p> -<p> -"So she was, but she left us a good half-hour since with Goetz." -</p> -<p> -"In that case she has not returned," said Dr. Duroc, "for I have been -sitting with Dr. Steck in the porch, and we could not have missed seeing -her." -</p> -<p> -"In the porch!" cried Madame Duroc, "and Dr. Steck has had nothing to -refresh himself after his long walk from the inn!" -</p> -<p> -"That is the way with her, boys," said the simple pastor, as she left -them, "always thoughtful for others." -</p> -<p> -At this moment Rahel burst rather noisily into the room, bringing the -sweet fragrance of the fields along with her. -</p> -<p> -"Where is Alide?" she asked, without noticing the stranger. -</p> -<p> -"Rahel," said the pastor, in a tone of reproof, "here is a visitor, Dr. -Steck; that is hardly the way to greet him." -</p> -<p> -"I beg your pardon, papa," said the young girl, with heightened color, -"and yours too, sir, whom I am happy to welcome," extending her hand -with almost as little embarrassment and as much cordiality as her -mother. "But, papa, I am uneasy about Alide; she should have been home -long ago. I must go seek her." And she hastened away. -</p> -<p> -"We are all rather foolish about our Alide," said the pastor, -apologetically; "she is the youngest of us,—but I have no fear for -her. You will soon see them all, Dr. Steck, and I am particularly -anxious for you to know my boy Otto; he is a lad of much promise, though -a trifle reserved, and if he can but select such companions as yourself -and Waldstein, I shall rest content." -</p> -<p> -"I shall be proud to know them all," said Steck, with sincerity, "for I -do not remember when before I have been so happy in a family circle." -And his eyes wandered to the door in search of the youngest daughter, -whose prolonged absence created such a stir in the household, and -occasioned an agreeable flutter of expectation in his own breast. -</p> -<p> -As he looked, the door was slowly opened, and Madame Duroc re-entered, -bearing a tray with a flask of home-made wine, a china basket filled -with the fruits of their orchard and vineyard, and a dish of her own -sweet-cakes. Waldstein, who was quite at home in the family, cleared one -of the tables and helped Madame Duroc to set the plates and glasses, and -they all placed themselves around it. -</p> -<p> -"Kitty is proud of her Rheinwein," said the pastor, as he filled Steck's -goblet, "and the surest way to her heart is to show your appreciation of -it." And he clinked his own glass against Steck's and raised it to his -lips. -</p> -<p> -"That she may well be," responded the youth, as he quaffed a long -draught. "It is a most delicious vintage." -</p> -<p> -"You know," said Madame Duroc, with assumed modesty, "the parson's wine -is always supposed to have a peculiar flavor." -</p> -<p> -"Never mind, Käthchen," said the pastor; "we will hold our own opinion -still. The last time you tasted it, Max, was the evening young Vogel was -here paying his court to Rahel. It seemed rather bitter in your mouth -then, eh, Waldstein?" -</p> -<p> -"It not the wine, sir," answered honest Max, with a girl's blush -overspreading his face. Just then Rahel herself returned. -</p> -<p> -"I cannot imagine what has become of Alide!" she cried. "I have been -half-way across the meadow without catching a glimpse of her. None of -the servants have seen her, and I have been waiting at the porch ever -since. It is really provoking, for I suppose she will come in soon with -some ridiculous excuse for having made us all so uneasy." -</p> -<p> -"Is Goetz with her?" asked the mother, rising and looking anxiously from -the window. -</p> -<p> -"Yes," replied Rahel, "or I should be really worried instead of vexed." -</p> -<p> -"It is indeed provoking!" said Madame Duroc, nervously. "I cannot -understand where the child has gone. She seems to be always either -loitering behind us or running out of sight ahead. I shall forbid her to -leave us at this hour again; she is far too wild and fearless for her -years. She seems to forget she is no longer a child." -</p> -<p> -"Let her alone," said the father, with great composure; "she has already -come back." -</p> -<p> -All eyes were turned to where he pointed as he spoke, and there, under -the low doorway, with the soft light from the western window falling -full upon her face, stood Alide. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III -<br><br> -ALIDE</h4> - -<p> -She did not look over sixteen, but it was maidenhood, not childhood, -that glanced forth from the gray-blue eyes and sent a rosy flush -rippling over the sweet, wistful face as she heard herself so freely -criticised before the two young men. Her neck seemed almost too delicate -for the large fair braids on her elegant little head. They were twisted -loosely like a crown above her brow, and again looped in long thick -plaits around either ear. These, indeed, formed her chief beauty, in -color no less than in luxuriance and texture, for they had not the -lustreless, flaxen hue most frequent in Germany, but a warm, glossy -gold, nearer auburn than yellow. It was the indescribable radiance -caused by the perfect blending of the divine tints of gold and pink and -white, added to the brightness of the large eyes, which made her the -lovely vision that she seemed at this moment to Steck; for her features -were more irregular than those of either her mother or her sister: the -nose was short and slightly upturned, her nationality strongly marked in -the breadth of the upper part of the face, and the mouth a trifle large. -But then the teeth were brilliant (Steck could see, for she was -smiling), and the full chin was cloven by a dimple. Like Rahel, she -"wore nothing but German," as they termed it, though the national attire -was almost obsolete in Alsace. A full white skirt, with a furbelow, -stopped just short of the dainty ankles, disclosing the neatest little -feet, and a close-fitting white bodice and coquettish black taffeta -apron completed her costume. Her broad-brimmed straw hat was slung over -her arm, and its long blue ribbons added the only touch of color that -she wore. -</p> -<p> -"Thus truly a most charming star arose in this rural heaven," Steck -wrote many years later, in describing this exquisite apparition of youth -and grace as she first stood before him. And such was the substance, if -not the form, of his thought as his eyes rested upon her. But the next -moment, for the first time since his disguise, the consciousness of his -own appearance overpowered him with shame and confusion, and he felt the -hot blood tingle in his face. Where were now the glib speech, the -insinuating address, the manly assurance and self-confidence that had -grown upon him with the knowledge of his gifts and had never before -failed him? It was like a disagreeable dream to hear the mention of his -assumed name, to see this beautiful creature make him a graceful -reverence, and to feel so keenly the ridiculousness of his own position, -as he returned with much constraint her salutation. In spite of her -costume, she seemed city-bred, for her greeting was quite different from -the rustic cordiality of her mother and sister, and he fancied he -detected lurking around the corners of her mouth a mischievous smile. -</p> -<p> -"So you have come back at last," began Rahel, with no little irritation; -"I suppose it is nothing to you that we have been watching for you since -sunset, and imagining a thousand impossible accidents." -</p> -<p> -"I am sorry to have made you uneasy, Rahel," answered Alide, quietly. -</p> -<p> -"What new folly or sentimentalism has kept you out till this hour?" -persisted Rahel, her ill humor increased by her sister's imperturbable -composure. -</p> -<p> -It was evident that Alide's intuitive refinement prevented her -displaying before a stranger any impatient temper. She loosened her hat -from her arm, laid it on the table, and, turning to her mother, kissed -her cheek like a child. "Mamma," said she, "I am really sorry that I -should have distressed you. Did you not know that Goetz was with me? I -only went to the village, and, as Herr Waldstein said papa was engaged -with a strange gentleman, I took the road behind the house, without -disturbing him to tell him where I had gone. Besides, the days seem to -grow short so suddenly." -</p> -<p> -"Well, my child," replied Madame Duroc, returning her caress, "another -time you will try to be more thoughtful: we will say no more about it -now." And she glanced significantly at her elder daughter. Rahel -shrugged her shoulders, as much as to say, "It is always the same but -the mother's calm decision sufficed to disperse at once the little -cloud, and the family were soon chatting together in the gayest and most -friendly way about uncles, aunts, cousins, gossips, and guests, and -Steck learned how much he had to promise himself from so numerous and -lively a circle. -</p> -<p> -Max was entirely at his ease, and added his comments and scraps of news -as familiarly as the rest; but Steck felt himself quite apart from the -cheerful group, especially as the consciousness of his false position -confused him more and more. As he listened, he took occasion to observe -them all, and thought with inexpressible astonishment that he was -actually in the Wakefield family. To be sure, the pastor had not the -earnest gravity and discretion of Dr. Primrose; but it would be -difficult to find in real life a single person uniting all the admirable -qualities of the English vicar; and, besides, the characters of -Goldsmith were only reversed, for Frau Duroc had all the dignity and -seriousness that her husband lacked. One could not see her without at -once honoring and reverencing her, and the results of high breeding were -visible in her manner, which was gentle, unconstrained, pleasant, and -attractive. If Rahel had not the celebrated beauty of Olivia, yet she -was pretty, lively, and impetuous; her gestures were more animated, her -voice had a shriller ring, her laugh was more frequent, her manners more -coquettish, than her sister's; and these peculiarities, added to the -scarlet ribbons twisted in her brown hair, and the sparkling vivacity of -her merry dark eyes, gave a somewhat over-pronounced, provincial tone to -her appearance. However, her spirits were so high, and she prattled on -with such a sprightly pleasantry, that Waldstein was bewitched, and -Steck himself might have been attracted by her picturesque individuality -had it not been for Alide. She would answer well, he thought, for -another Sophia; for all that is said of Sophia is that she is amiable; -and who was ever amiable in the original signification of the -word—worthy to be loved—if Alide were not? -</p> -<p> -"It is a shame to play a joke upon such good people," said Steck to -himself, fancying it was his conscience that pricked him, when it was -only his vanity that was aroused; and, when all eyes were turned from -him, he quickly removed the gold spectacles and passed his hand lightly -through his hair. As he did so, Max looked at him and smiled -maliciously, but discreetly held his peace. -</p> -<p> -For some time Alide had taken little part in the conversation, and had -answered absently the direct questions addressed to her. "That strange -young doctor,"—she was thinking, and it was her conscience, not her -vanity, that spoke,—"he is bashful, to be sure, and he blushes like a -girl; but is it kind in us to leave him there alone? Papa seems to have -forgotten his presence, and mamma is always so quiet. I must try myself -to make him feel a little more at home." And she rose from her low chair -at the pastor's feet and moved towards Steck. But as she looked at him -she drew back and almost lost courage, startled at the transformation -which the pseudo-doctor had undergone. The rapid movement of his hand -had sufficed to change the whole appearance of his head. His brown hair -waved naturally in soft curls, and though the sudden glance of his full, -deeply-set eyes was peculiarly keen and penetrating, yet the drooping -lids and heavy lashes gave them in repose an indescribably gentle -expression. Perhaps she would not have arisen at all if she had known he -looked like that. But it was too late to return. He was sitting by the -open harpsichord, and had taken up the song that lay upon it. -</p> -<p> -"Can you play yourself, Dr. Steck?" she asked. -</p> -<p> -His habitual tact and ease were restored to him by the young girl's -expression of surprise, which he had not failed to notice. -</p> -<p> -"I play after a fashion," he replied; "I cannot pretend to much skill." -</p> -<p> -"But you will let us judge for ourselves?" pleaded she, with a winning -smile. -</p> -<p> -"Surely, mademoiselle, if it pleases you." And he went to seat himself -before the instrument. -</p> -<p> -"What is this?" interrupted the pastor, turning towards them. "Why, -Alide, you certainly will not ask the guest to furnish the -entertainment? You must serve him first yourself, with a performance or -a song." -</p> -<p> -"Indeed, I am not in the mood," remonstrated Alide, "but I will do my -best." And without affectation she placed herself before the -harpischord. -</p> -<p> -It was a primitive, tinkling little affair, evidently neglected by the -schoolmaster, who should have tuned it long since. Alide played a couple -of pieces in the ordinary mechanical style of country amateurs, and then -sang with rather more sentiment a brief, tender, melancholy song. But -Steck had little knowledge of the art, and if the performance had been -faultless its merits would have been lost upon him. He scarcely knew how -or what the girl was singing; he heard, or rather felt, the fresh clear -voice ring through his brain; he watched the dainty white hands resting -lightly on the old black keys, he noted the dewy, earnest eyes, the -brightly flushed face, the royal little head, and at that moment for him -there was nothing else in the world. -</p> -<p> -"Ah!" she cried, suddenly, "I cannot succeed. I am not in the vein." And -she rose with a smile, or rather, as Steck said, "with that touch of -serene joy that ever reposed on her countenance." "I cannot play; and -yet it is not the fault of the harpsichord or my master. Let us go into -the open air, and I will sing you one of my Alsatian songs,—they -sound much better there." -</p> -<p> -He followed her with alacrity. The moist freshness of the twilight -breeze, rich with the heavy fragrance of the honeysuckle overhead, blew -towards them as Steck opened the door, and they stood out together in -the porch. Around the wide gray meadows the mountains loomed huge and -sombre against the faded sky, and the moon, still rosy from the vapors -of the horizon, was slowly floating upward. Alide raised her head to see -if any stars were yet shining, and all the white purity of heaven, which -was neither light nor color, but something between the two, descended -like a benediction upon the sweet flower-face. In her blithe, child-like -voice, that vibrated with infinitely more mellowness in the large air, -she began her favorite Alsatian ballad: -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"I come from a forest as dark as the night,</span><br> -<span class="i2">And, believe me, I love thee, my only delight"—</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -caroling forth the refrain with the clear flute-notes of a bird. It had a -strange, powerful effect upon the artist's impressionable temperament. -When the song was ended he did not speak. -</p> -<p> -"Why do you not thank me for my performance? I have done my best," she -said, innocently, turning quickly around and looking him full in the -face. His eyes were quite wet, and his whole frame was trembling with -excitement. -</p> -<p> -"It is too beautiful," he said, in a low voice. -</p> -<p> -"Let us go in," exclaimed Alide, abruptly. "It is chilly out here." -</p> -<p> -Lights had been brought, and the family were just preparing to go to -supper as they re-entered the room. The first words that Steck heard -were sufficient to recall him fully to himself. "Wolfgang Goethe!" Max -was saying, as if in answer to a question, while the whole group hung -upon his speech. "Of course I know him,—all Strasburg knows him -already——" Then, seeing Steck, he laughed, hesitated, and -finally added, with some awkwardness, "Well, after all, there is nothing -remarkable about him: he is only a jovial young fellow, like the rest of -us." Steck looked at him with a startled glance of inquiry, and, being -met by a mystifying expression on the part of Max, he resumed his prim -student's manner. -</p> -<p> -At the supper-table Alide sat directly opposite him, and as she noted -his demure appearance an unaccountable fear and trouble overcame her. -And yet a powerful fascination led her eyes constantly towards his face, -until she found herself forgetting the food before her and blushing with -shame lest her preoccupation had been remarked. As the wine flowed -freely, by imperceptible degrees his countenance became again mobile and -eloquent as it had flashed upon her in the porch. -</p> -<p> -In the midst of supper the door was opened, and a lad of about seventeen -sprang into the room, nodded in a half-shy half-familiar way to Steck -and Waldstein, and seated himself boldly among them. "What, Moses, too!" -exclaimed Steck, involuntarily. -</p> -<p> -"How do you mean?" asked the pastor, with surprise. "This is my son -Otto." -</p> -<p> -"Oh, sir, I beg your pardon," replied Steck, with a laugh. "It is a -foolish habit I have of trying to realize the ideal world. I have lately -been reading a charming story of English life,—the description of -a country parson's home and family,—and I seem to be among them -all since I have been with you. This brave lad was the only one wanting -to complete the novelist's group." -</p> -<p> -"That is a fantastic trick," said Dr. Duroc. "Since you have such -romantic tastes, I have no doubt you will be delighted to visit the -interesting localities about us here. Not a hill, a grove, nor a -waterfall but has its own tradition; my girls can tell you them all." -</p> -<p> -"I have, indeed, too much pleasure to promise myself here," answered -Steck, eagerly. "But when will you allow me to guide you through my -beloved Strasburg? There, too, every stone in the streets has its -history." -</p> -<p> -"My girls are not partial to a town-life," said Madame Duroc. "Their -city cousins are always begging them to go, yet I cannot prevail on them -to leave the parsonage." -</p> -<p> -"I cannot abide it!" cried Rahel. "It is very well for Cousins Anna and -Gretchen; they have adopted all the French modes; but as for poor Alide -and myself, we feel like peasants in our German." -</p> -<p> -"Nevertheless," interposed. Alide, gently, "you are very kind to ask us, -Dr. Steck; and if we ever do find ourselves in Strasburg we may call -upon you to remember your promise." -</p> -<p> -"Oh, I am sure you would forget all your prejudices if you would but let -me take you through the town!" exclaimed Steck, with enthusiasm. "It is -only in a city that one can see the thousandfold life of man fully and -worthily developed. There the broad, rich current of our modern -industries flows past the stately monuments of an antique world. A -single pitiful existence cannot suffice for the soul's insatiable -craving after boundless, interminable activity. One must feel one's self -in all. These busy comers and goers, these merchants, students, artists, -cart be made to serve the single master-mind and carry his thought in -ever-widening circles to the ends of the earth. By Jove! when I feel -myself so young, so favored, so thoroughly alive, I long to taste the -sweets and bitternesses of a hundred existences, to pass through all -experiences. It is for me—I please myself by thinking—to -study the endless aspects under which our national character reveals -itself,—to snatch the secret of the ardent aspirations, the noble -discontent, of our German youth. It is for me——" -</p> -<p> -"Steck," interrupted Max, in a dry, quiet tone, from the opposite side -of the table, "don't you think you would like to see the meadows by -moonlight? Since we have all finished our supper, what does madame say -to a walk in the fields?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh, charming!" exclaimed Rahel; but Frau Duroc rose silently, and -Alide, who had sat with downcast eyes and abated breath, started and -looked up with a bewildered sort of disappointment. Again she saw the -strange student blush like a girl, and cast, as it were, a mask of -dulness over his face. The fire died out from his eyes, a constrained, -unpleasant expression replaced the ardent enthusiasm that had ennobled -every feature, and once more the shy, awkward Dr. Steck was standing -before her. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV -<br><br> -A MOONLIGHT WALK</h4> - -<p> -There was a little confusion in the hall, of shawl-wrappings and -head-coverings, and injunctions from Madame Duroc to her daughters to -beware of the wet grass and the dripping leaves. -</p> -<p> -"I cannot get this hood over my hair," cried Alide, who had thrown a -white cloak over her shoulders and was vainly trying to draw the hood -over her high braids. "Mamma, it is a mild, soft evening. I will go just -as I am." And so the whole party went out into the bright night. -</p> -<p> -The moon was by this time high in the heavens; the meadows were bathed -in a lustrous haze, the brook glittered from unexpected places, the -vineyard was full of black shadows, and the trees of the orchard allowed -broken rays to fall between their branches, checkering the colorless -turf with patches of light and darkness. The sound of the brook -stumbling over its pebbles, of the pleasant little gusts of breeze as -they went shuddering through the crisp foliage, the sudden soft thump of -an apple dropping on the grass, and the incessant song of the crickets, -were all that could be heard even in the intense quietness of the autumn -night. -</p> -<p> -For a moment the whole group gazed in silence, but Rahel's voice soon -broke forth, chattering to Max as he drew her arm through his and led -her towards the orchard. "Look! one can almost see the color of the -roses!" she cried. "Wait a minute, and I will pluck this one,—it is -quite overblown: how wet it is! Ah, I have run that horrid thorn in my -finger! Thanks. It was Alide who had them planted on either side of the -gate, where——" And so the girlish voice died away in the -distance, and the two figures were lost among the shadows and shrubbery. -</p> -<p> -"Let us go towards the vineyard," suggested Madame Duroc; "Rahel has -taken the other path, but Dr. Steck should see the pretty outlook from -the opposite side of the trellises. Otto, give me your arm, so that I -may not step upon the grass; the dew is almost like rain. Dr. Steck, if -you follow us you will see the prospect to advantage." -</p> -<p> -"Go," said the pastor. "I will wait here till you come back. I have not -much relish for these damp walks." And Steck, with Alide upon his arm, -followed Madame Duroc and her son through the moonlit lanes. He looked -down at the girl's face beside him, with her hair gleaming like pale -gold, and the liquid lustre in her eyes which only the moon can shed. -About her form everything was white and shadowy as her thin cloak was -lifted and fluttered around her by the cool air. He felt the elastic -spring of her gait timed perfectly with his own footsteps, the scarcely -perceptible pressure of her arm upon his own, the nearness of the warm, -bright head, and a delicious joy possessed him. But Alide had not -recovered from the disturbing sense of fear with which this strange -young man inspired her, and she was resolved not to allow the sweet -influences of the scene and hour to work upon herself or her companion. -Almost as volubly as Rahel, and as little subdued by the wonderful charm -of the night, she prattled artlessly about all that concerned her daily -life. In the perfect stillness, her mother, a few steps in advance, -could have heard every word she uttered. -</p> -<p> -"Of course you will know us all," she said, "for whenever a stranger -stops with us he is sure to return often and become familiar with our -whole family circle. There are so many of us, uncles, aunts, and cousins -included, that we make quite a little world of our own." -</p> -<p> -"And among them all," said Steck, in a low, earnest tone, "is there not -one who attracts you particularly?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, indeed," answered Alide, "and many more than one. If you could -only know my aunt Christiane! She is fully sixty years old, and -beautiful as an angel. She had a strange, tragic story connected with -her youth; but the longer she lives the more peaceful life becomes to -her, she says. And, indeed, the mutual devotion between herself and her -two sons seems enough to compensate for many, many trials of the past." -</p> -<p> -"And they:—your cousins," interposed Steck, "are they also such -romantic characters?" -</p> -<p> -"Dr. Steck, you must not laugh at my enthusiasm," said she, seriously: -"my cousins are—what such a mother must make them." And Steck fancied -it was confusion that made her draw her cloak closer about her and -quicken her steps. -</p> -<p> -"Forgive me," he said; "I know I have no claim upon your friendship, -your regard, but when I hear you talk of this happily-united circle I -cannot overcome a painful regret for all I have lost in only now -becoming acquainted with so much that is good. I have been a great deal -alone,—that is to say, in thought and feeling; and I might almost -say, if it were not presuming upon your kindness, that it is a certain -selfish jealousy which I feel in realizing this confiding interchange of -sympathies." -</p> -<p> -"In that case," responded Alide, with great composure, "I can promise -you that all our family will extend their friendship and respect to -whoever deserves and needs it." -</p> -<p> -He did not reply; but no silence ensued, for she grew more and more -talkative in proportion as his reserve increased. -</p> -<p> -When they reached the vineyard they found that the thick shadows of the -grape-leaves made it too dark for them to enter, and Madame Duroc -proposed that they should return at once to the house. Then followed a -simple incident, now familiar to the world as the memorable events of -history. It is but just to say that Steck at the time did not analyze -the tender, sincere emotion which it excited in his breast; but in his -artist-mind everything photographed itself with such distinctness that -almost a lifetime later it recurred to him, and he transferred it to his -Homeric page in the exquisite lines which all of us know. There were -some large stones, roughly hewn to serve as steps, at the entrance of -the vineyard, and they were descending these, when Alide's foot slipped, -and she fell in his arms. For a second he supported her, with her hair -close to his lips, her trembling form palpitating in his grasp. -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">She gently sank on his shoulder,</span><br> -<span class="i2">Breast was placed against breast, and cheek against cheek; thus</span><br> -<span class="i8">he stood there,</span><br> -<span class="i2">Fixed as a marble statue, the force of will keeping him steadfast,</span><br> -<span class="i2">Drew her not to him more closely, but braced himself under her</span><br> -<span class="i8">pressure.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -She recovered herself almost immediately, and, suffused with shame at -her awkwardness, as she expressed it, she hurried forward by his side. -</p> -<p> -Rahel and Max were already in the porch with the pastor when they -arrived. "Did you find it as pleasant as we did?" asked Rahel. "You must -have loitered by the way, for we walked as far as the old pear-tree, and -yet we are home first." -</p> -<p> -"It is a rarely beautiful night," answered her mother. "But come, girls, -it is time to go in now; and, Otto, I am sure the gentlemen are quite -ready, after their journey from Strasburg to-day, to be shown to their -room." -</p> -<p> -"I congratulate you, Dr. Steck," said Max Waldstein, when Otto had -bidden the two young men good-night and closed the door of the -guest-chamber, "on the result of these serious studies of yours; on your -triumphant success in the praiseworthy attempt to examine these -pastoral, idyllic lives with entire freedom from personal emotions. -Wine, women, and song? Luther was an infant when he wrote it: it is -philosophy, mathematics, jurisprudence, that make the world go round. -What do you say, Dr. Steck? Have you brought your Phædon in your -valise, and shall I fetch it to lull you to sleep? Tell me, am I not an -admirable fellow to have introduced you into the original Primrose -family?" -</p> -<p> -"Do not be hard upon me, Max," answered the other, frankly; "I -acknowledge myself vanquished, routed, cut to pieces. But no, I will not -yield like a craven; it is not open warfare, it is an ambuscade. Instead -of warning me of the danger, you lured me into it. It was Rahel who was -bewitching, Rahel who was irresistible; and just as I am pluming myself -that I have met the enemy, received the full shock of her charge, and -come off conqueror, there enters this baby whom you never thought it -worth your while to mention, and before she has spoken I am groveling in -the dust." -</p> -<p> -"And it is only your own villainous taste that brought you there," -replied Max. "How could I know that you would prefer one of these -pink-and-white lasses that spring up as thick as weeds all over Germany, -to the sprightly Mademoiselle Rahel, or Olivia, as you have dubbed her? -Truly the story is quite complete: the gentleman in disguise may have -the honor of passing for Mr. Burchell; and, since scoundrels are not so -necessary in common life as in novels, I will undertake the rôle of the -nephew, and behave myself better than he did." -</p> -<p> -"Oh, Max!" interrupted his companion, "tell me, above all things, on -your conscience, have you not betrayed me? What can she think of me? -What a cursed fool I have made of myself in this execrable costume! Does -she know that I am Goethe? I heard you talking freely about me before -supper." -</p> -<p> -"How the deuce could she know it, when she was out in the porch cooing -to you the only time your name passed my lips?" -</p> -<p> -"But her dignified mother, her kind old father," said Goethe, -anxiously,—"have you betrayed me to them? Do they know what a -simpleton I have been?" -</p> -<p> -"I cannot answer for that," responded Waldstein, dryly; "but if they -know you are a simpleton they have discovered it through their own -mother-wit, for I assure you, comrade, it is not I who would betray -you." -</p> -<p> -"How did you happen to speak of me at all?" asked Goethe. -</p> -<p> -"Naturally enough," replied Max: "they questioned me about Strasburg, -and I found your madcap fame had preceded you as far as Sesenheim. They -had heard all sorts of preposterous stuff, and they were just begging me -to tell them something about your eccentricities, when you came in with -your sweetheart on your arm,—oh, no, I beg your pardon, not the -Cathedral, but some heroine of a novel whom you were loftily studying -for your first work of fiction." -</p> -<p> -Goethe made no reply, but paced the floor in an excited manner. Max -watched him narrowly with an amused expression, and waited for him to -resume the conversation. Finally he stopped, and broke out abruptly, "Is -she engaged?" -</p> -<p> -"No," said Max, shortly. -</p> -<p> -"Hm! that is a relief," said Goethe, with a sigh. "Is she in love? has -she ever been in love?" -</p> -<p> -"Really, Wolfgang," cried Max, laughing, "I cannot pretend to be -familiar with such a mysterious thing as the heart of a woman. As to her -being in love now, however, I think I can safely answer—no, unless -she was smitten this evening by that pretty gray suit of yours. And for the -past,—well, as she is scarcely more than a child, I hardly think it -possible that she should have had any serious passion hitherto." -</p> -<p> -"Strange! strange!" murmured Goethe, absently. "Such a cheerfulness by -nature is inconceivable to me. Had she loved and lost and recovered -herself, or were she now betrothed, in either case I could account for -this deep, earnest serenity." And he relapsed into silence. -</p> -<p> -"Those two cousins of hers," he began, in a little while, "her aunt -Catherine—no, that is not the name—her aunt Christiane's sons: -has she not a sentiment for one of them?" -</p> -<p> -"For both of them, for all I know," answered Max; "but if you could see -them, I hardly believe you would suspect it. I think the Durocs have -monopolized the beauty of the family. And, besides, one of these cousins -is some few months younger than herself, and therefore in her womanly -eyes a mere child; the other is already married. Any more catechism -to-night, Wolfgang?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes; who is Goetz?" asked Goethe, with great eagerness. -</p> -<p> -Max burst into a laugh. "Oh, I forgot Goetz," he cried. "There I -acknowledge you have a rival, and a formidable one, too. Why, I have -seen your modest, demure Fräulein Alide fling her arms about his neck -and caress his black, curly head as though he were a good-looking fellow -like one of us. And yet he has beauties of his own, too,—to say -nothing of his moral qualities,—a world of courage, a keen -scent——" A light broke upon Goethe's face, and he could not -repress a smile himself. "Yes," said Waldstein, "you are a rather -presumptuous lad,—you have not been in the family a dozen hours, -and you are jealous of the house-dog! But come, this may be very -interesting for you, but I am tired and quite ready for sleep. I advise -you to break off that walk of yours, and exercise your limbs in the -morning. It is past midnight; and who knows but that I have my dreams to -be dreamed out as well as you?" -</p> -<p> -A few moments later, honest Max was asleep as his head touched the -pillow; but Goethe tossed feverishly about, and it was not till a short -time before dawn that he succeeded in calming sufficiently his turbulent -imagination to snatch a troubled slumber. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V -<br><br> -GOETHE</h4> - -<p> -With the earliest beams of morning Goethe awoke. "Alide" was his first -thought, and he sprang from his bed and began hastily to dress himself, -that he might go into the open air and see her in the broad, dewy light -of the young day. But now he was indeed horrified at the absurd wardrobe -which he had so wantonly selected: the farther he advanced in his -toilet, the meaner it seemed in his eyes, for everything had been -calculated for just this effect. His hair could easily be managed; but -when he forced himself into the shabby gray coat, and saw himself -reflected in the little mirror piece by piece, first the short, -threadbare sleeves, then the ill-fitting jacket, and then the ridiculous -breeches, he fell into despair. He looked at Waldstein's fine clothes as -they hung over the chair, and gladly would he have carried them off and -left his accursed husk behind, for Max was sufficiently good-humored to -have put himself readily into his friend's costume, and so the tale -would have found a merry ending early in the morning. But Waldstein was -so much shorter and stouter than himself that this attire would give him -as ridiculous an appearance as his own. While he was standing with a -perplexed, dejected countenance, summoning all his powers of invention, -he heard a low, smothered laugh issuing from under the silken bed-quilt. -He turned quickly and saw Max peering mischievously out upon him. "No, -it is true," exclaimed Max, "you do look most cursedly!" -</p> -<p> -"And I know what I will do!" cried Goethe, impetuously. "Good-by, and -make my excuses." -</p> -<p> -Waldstein sprang from the bed and tried to detain him. "Are you mad?" he -called out. But it was too late, for his friend was already out of the -door, down the stairs, out of the house and yard, and off to the tavern. -</p> -<p> -Now that he felt himself in safety, the cheerful sunlight and the cool -breath of morning somewhat restored his quiet. He walked rapidly across -the meadows to the Drusenheim inn, mounted his horse, which he had left -there the evening before, and rode leisurely towards Strasburg, with the -intention, of changing his toilet, taking a fresh horse, and returning -to the parsonage in time for dinner, or at the latest for dessert, and -making his apologies and explanations. As he recalled the evening which -he had spent with the Durocs, the pleasant incidents that had occurred, -and the delicious emotions he had experienced, his vexation at his own -folly, and his impatience to see again the beloved face of Alide, grew -wellnigh intolerable. He was just about to clap spurs into his steed and -gallop into the city, when a sudden thought flashed upon him, and, -turning the animal about, he rode back towards Drusenheim. He entered -the court-yard of the tavern, and inquired for the landlord's son, whom -he had remarked as a likely lad yesterday afternoon. Master Fritz, a -well-made, good-looking youth, of somewhat the same figure and height as -Goethe, soon made his appearance. In a few words Wolfgang proposed that -the young man should exchange clothes with him, as he had something -merry on foot at the parsonage. -</p> -<p> -"Capital!" cried Fritz; "you must be a good fellow, to make sport for -the mam'selles; they are such excellent people, especially Mam'selle -Alide; and the old folks, too, are fond of having everything go on -pleasantly." He looked critically at Goethe's shabby costume, evidently -taking him for a poor enough starveling, but he was honest-hearted and -amiable, and, besides, Wolfgang was to leave his good horse in the -stable; so, without any ado, he consented to the bargain, adding, -complacently, "If you wish to insinuate yourself, this is the right -way." -</p> -<p> -Goethe soon stood smart enough in the court-yard, and his new friend -looked with much satisfaction at the counterpart. "Topp! Mr. Brother," -he cried, giving his hand, which Wolfgang grasped heartily, "don't come -too near my girl; she might make a mistake." -</p> -<p> -"Let me go in with you a moment," said Goethe, "that I may dress my hair -like yours." "Since my intentions are enigmatical," he thought, "I will -make myself an external riddle also." In a short time his soft brown -locks were knotted jauntily on top, and with the help of a burnt cork -his delicate arched eyebrows were thickened and darkened, and made to -meet over his nose like those of the innkeeper's son. Then, taking the -gayly-beribboned hat, he said, "Now, have you not something or other to -be done at the parsonage, that I might announce myself there in a -natural manner?" -</p> -<p> -"Good," said the lad; "but in that case you must wait a couple of hours -yet. There is a woman confined at our house. I will offer to take the -cake to the parson's wife, and you may carry it over. Pride must pay its -penalty, and so must a joke." -</p> -<p> -His first device to beguile the tedious time was to order breakfast. He -sat at the table familiarly with Fritz, and proposed to loiter an hour -or so at the meal; but his exercise in the bracing air had added such -zest to his appetite that when he had satisfied his hunger he found, to -his surprise, but twenty minutes sped of his two hours' penance. Fritz -suggested that Goethe, being an apt and amiable fellow, should go with -him to the farmyard and stables and superintend the household -arrangements for the day, and perhaps lend here and there a helping -hand. Goethe was just the man to have interested himself deeply at any -other moment in all the particulars of this active, healthy life, these -varied duties, this genial, pleasant occupation which Fritz was to -inherit and in which he already performed a large share of the work. -Besides, the open-hearted peasant took the stranger into his confidence, -and imparted various perplexities of his love-affairs, which just now -were in rather an embarrassing condition. It was Lotte who held him to -some foolish pledge of his boyhood, and it was Minna of the parsonage -who possessed his heart. But Goethe was haunted by the vision of Alide, -and burning with impatience to realize his dream: so he lent but an -abstracted and unsympathetic ear to the prosy details of crops and -marketings and tavern-profits, curiously interspersed with the idyllic -complications of the peasant's personal history. -</p> -<p> -Meanwhile, at the parsonage, Alide also had risen betimes, and, as the -events of the past evening recurred to her, her heart beat with unwonted -excitement at the thought of meeting again this strange young man and -penetrating his mystery. This searching daylight, she said to herself, -would reveal all; it was only the dimness of lamplight and moonlight -that had made her fancy such sudden, subtle changes in his countenance. -Yet it was not his appearance only that had altered. How thoroughly -self-possessed she found him when she had advanced, in compassion for -his embarrassment, to ask him to touch the harpsichord! And what did -Herr Waldstein mean by interrupting that, burst of eloquence at the -supper-table? Never before had she heard a man talk like that; she could -not raise her eyes while he spoke. Ah! had she seen him at such a -moment, she would have divined who and what he was. When she did look, -it was too late; the curtain had been again drawn. -</p> -<p> -Hitherto, when she had been in doubt about a stranger, she had never -failed to appeal to her mother's decision, with unquestioning faith in -the infallibility of that wise, deliberate judgment. Now, however, she -did not dream of turning to any one for counsel; no one suspected the -hidden treasure of which she had caught a glimpse. Her mother seemed -grave, and even displeased, when Dr. Steck had spoken so eloquently at -the table, and Rahel had no eyes for any one else while Max was with -her. She would discover everything for herself, and then present to them -all her prince in disguise, and he should know that never for an instant -had she been deceived by the shabby surface. -</p> -<p> -She looked more like a child than yesterday, as she sprang down-stairs -into the open air, for she had left her plaited hair hanging down her -back, and replaced her coronet of braids with a snood of pale-blue -ribbon. But the serious eyes held something more suggestive of the -perfect flowering of maidenhood than any light they possessed before -they had fallen upon Goethe's face. -</p> -<p> -The family were just seating themselves at the breakfast-table when the -door opened, and Alide, who had glanced up eagerly, saw, with a chill of -disappointment, Herr Waldstein enter alone. Before the pastor could -inquire about his new guest, Max said, with some constraint, "My friend -begs me to tell you all, with a great many apologies for his apparent -rudeness, and many more thanks for your kindness to him, that he has -been obliged to return in haste to Strasburg." -</p> -<p> -"I am sorry for that," said the pastor; "I flatter myself that I can -judge character pretty accurately, and that youth pleased me amazingly: -he was a fine, ingenuous fellow. Well, I doubt not but he will turn up -again." -</p> -<p> -"Oh, you may be sure of that!" said Max, who could not refrain from a -furtive glance at Alide. "He was delighted with his evening here, and he -pulled a wry face at having to return to the city." -</p> -<p> -"It seems strange that he was obliged to leave so suddenly," said Madame -Duroc: "he certainly could not have received news from town so early." -</p> -<p> -"No, madame," stammered Max; "but last night—no, not last -night—in fact, though he is a good fellow, to tell you the truth, -he is something of a madcap. Indeed, he is only a boy in years, and he -rode over here for a holiday, without remembering an important business -engagement for this morning in town. I am quite sure he will return soon -and make you his own excuses." -</p> -<p> -No further attention was paid to the freak so naturally accounted for, -while the family conversation flowed on in its ordinary channels. How -intolerably flat it was to poor Alide! Her little romance was shattered -to bits by this unexpected incident; she was sure he would never come -back. Now, more than ever, he was a prince in disguise, and, since he -had been with her the greater part of the evening, the modest girl -accused herself of a thousand blunders that must have driven him away. -How she had bored him with her foolish confidences about her dull -village circle! how ungainly he must have found her rustic appearance -and manner! She choked a sigh, and tried to interest herself again in -the trivial events of her home-life. After breakfast Rahel proposed a -walk, and the two sisters fetched their hats and strolled with Waldstein -across the meadows. Alide almost forgot to be melancholy in the sunshine -of the autumn fields. Ah, how easily at this early period could she have -succeeded in what seemed to her the heroic endeavor to banish all -recollection of the wonderful stranger! She called Goetz from his -kennel, and in a little while she was bounding with the dog, laughing -and singing, far ahead of Max and Rahel, or gayly chatting alongside of -them. -</p> -<p> -There are women who especially please us in a room; others who look -better in the open air. Alide belonged to the latter. Her whole nature, -her form, never appeared more charming than when she moved along an -elevated footpath. The grace of her deportment seemed to vie with the -flowery earth, and the indestructible cheerfulness of her countenance -with the blue sky. In walks she floated about, an animating spirit, and -knew how to supply the gaps which might arise here and there. The -lightness of her movements we have already commended, and she was most -graceful when she ran. As the deer seems just to fulfil its destination -when it lightly flies over the sprouting corn, so did her peculiar -nature seem most plainly to express itself when she ran with light steps -over mead and furrow, to seek something which had been lost, to summon a -distant couple, or to order something necessary. On these occasions she -was never out of breath, and always kept her equilibrium. -</p> -<p> -"Who is this coming towards us with a white thing in his hands?" asked -Max. -</p> -<p> -"Oh, that is Fritz, the innkeeper's son," said Rahel, drawing her -eyelids together coquettishly. "But what can he be running across the -meadows with?" -</p> -<p> -As he drew near, Alide called out, "Fritz, what are you bringing there?" -</p> -<p> -He took off his hat in such a manner that it entirely concealed his -face, and, without speaking, held up a loaded napkin high in the air. -</p> -<p> -"A christening-cake!" cried Alide. "How is your sister?" -</p> -<p> -"Well," replied he, shortly. -</p> -<p> -"Carry it to the house," said Rahel. "If you do not find my mother, give -it to the maid. Rut wait for us; we shall soon be back. Do you hear? -That will give him a chance with Minna," she added, kindly, as they -continued their walk. -</p> -<p> -With a joyous feeling of hope, Goethe in his new disguise hastened along -the path, and soon reached the parsonage. He found nobody either in the -house or the kitchen, and, taking it for granted that the pastor was -engaged in the study, he seated himself on a bench in the porch, with -his cake beside him, and pressed down his hat over his brows. It was -indeed a delightful sensation which he now experienced; to sit again on -this threshold over which a short time before he had blundered out in -despair, to have seen her already again, to have heard again her dear -voice so soon after his chagrin had pictured to him a long separation, -and every moment to be expecting herself and a discovery at which his -heart throbbed, and yet a discovery without shame, for surely love never -prompted a merrier prank. -</p> -<p> -But the maid came stepping out of the barn. "Did the cakes turn out -well?" cried she. "And how is your sister?" -</p> -<p> -"All right," replied Goethe, and pointed to the cake without looking up. -</p> -<p> -She raised the napkin and muttered, "Now, what's the matter with you -to-day again? Has Lotte been looking at somebody else? Don't let us -suffer for that; you will make a happy couple if you carry on so." -</p> -<p> -As she spoke rather loud, the pastor came to the window and asked what -was the matter. She showed him the supposed Fritz, who rose and turned -towards him, but kept the hat well over his face. -</p> -<p> -"Good-morning, Fritz," said the pastor; "I am glad to hear you say your -sister is getting along nicely. You may go round to the kitchen and say -a word to Minna." -</p> -<p> -With these friendly words the pastor turned into the room again, and -Goethe was moving towards the garden, when he heard the voice of Madame -Duroc, who was just entering the court-yard, calling him. He was obliged -to meet her with the sun shining full in his face, but he still availed -himself of the advantage which his hat afforded him, and greeted her by -scraping a leg. -</p> -<p> -"How are you, Fritz?" said she, kindly. "Go to the kitchen, and be sure -not to return home without taking some breakfast." And she re-entered the -house. -</p> -<p> -Goethe walked up and down the garden, congratulating himself on his -unexpected luck, and breathing hard at the thought that he should so -soon see again the young people. Lost in his reflections, he did not -hear a step approach, and, raising his head suddenly, he found Madame -Duroc directly in front of him. "Fritz," she began, and then, for the -first time looking him full in the face, the words died away upon her -lips. He saw that it was useless to try to conceal himself any longer, -and, doffing his hat, he stood before her in the sunshine, with his eyes -cast to the ground and his face covered with blushes. -</p> -<p> -After a pause she exclaimed, with displeasure, "I am looking for Fritz, -and whom do I find? Is it you, young sir? How many forms have you, -then?" -</p> -<p> -He raised his eyes and looked at her so honestly and respectfully that -her anger was appeased. "In earnest, only one," he replied, gravely; and -then added, with a merry smile, "but in sport, as many as you like." -</p> -<p> -"Which sport I will not spoil," said she, graciously, smiling in her -turn. "Go out behind the garden into the meadow until it strikes twelve, -then come back, and I shall already have contrived the joke." -</p> -<p> -He obeyed, and, after passing beyond the hedges of the village gardens, -he was embarrassed by seeing some country-people advancing towards him -along the footpath. By his side was a hill crowned by a small wood, and, -springing up the elevation, he plunged into the grove, in order to -conceal himself till the appointed time. He found himself at once in a -little sylvan paradise. The soft turf was mottled with broken sunlight -and strewn with the first fall of leaves; patches of the deep-blue sky -were shining between the restless foliage and waving branches, and on -every side a heaven-bright picture, set in a bushy frame, opened before -him. Below, was the lively village, and at no great distance, as seen -from this point, stood the gray parsonage, embosomed in its prosperous -fields. Beyond, lay Drusenheim, with its old-fashioned inn, and its -glittering tiled roof that caught the sunlight, while far away rose into -sight the steeple of Strasburg Minster. He could catch between the trees -a glimpse of the flowing shimmer of the Rhine, and could distinguish in -the hazy distance its woody islands, with their magical tints of yellow -and russet and green. In the opposite direction waved the noble outlines -of the Vosges, their purple hollows and dazzling light-green -pasture-slopes streaked with shifting shadows. -</p> -<p> -It was evident that he had not been the first to appreciate this rare -combination of lovely vistas, for benches had been placed around, so -that one could admire at leisure from every point. Seating himself upon -one of these, under a tall elm, he saw fastened on the trunk an oblong -little board with the inscription, "Alide's Rest." His heart beat -violently at the sudden recollection. A light footstep startled him from -his reverie, and, looking around, he saw Alide, who, aglow with youth -and beauty, "most highly realized his fair dream." -</p> -<p> -"Why, Fritz, what are you doing here?" she cried, from below the hill. -</p> -<p> -"Not Fritz," exclaimed Goethe, running to meet her, "but one who craves -forgiveness of you a thousand times." -</p> -<p> -She looked at him in wonder, almost in alarm, and fetched her breath -quickly; but, endeavoring to conceal her emotion with a laugh, she said, -"You wicked man! how you frighten me!" -</p> -<p> -"The first disguise has led me into the second," cried he; "the former -would have been unpardonable had I but known, in any degree, to whom I -was coming. But this one you will certainly forgive, for it is the shape -of persons whom you treat so kindly." -</p> -<p> -She colored deeply, but walked up the hill with him, and answered, "At -any rate, you will not fare worse than Fritz. Let us sit down; for I -confess the fright has gone into my limbs." -</p> -<p> -Goethe was even more agitated than herself as they entered the grove and -took their seats. So many conventional necessities come to the aid of a -woman that Alide, whose heart was thrilled with joy at finding him thus -again, was able to speak with perfect composure. "We know everything -already, up to this morning, from your friend," said she; "now do you -tell us the rest." -</p> -<p> -"What! you know that I am Goethe, and you pardon my boldness, my -presumption, in deceiving you as I did! But you cannot imagine my horror -this morning in thinking that I must again appear before you in such a -guise as to excite nothing but ridicule and disgust. I thought of all -your genial household, but above all, one face was always before me, -hospitable, gentle, even as it is now, but with that terrible smile -lurking behind it. Then Max, who was watching me, broke out into a -laugh. It was too much. I rushed from the house in despair, to -Strasburg, as I intended; but the happy idea occurred to me that I might -borrow something presentable of Fritz,—anything to appear human in -your sight, to throw myself at your feet and implore your forgiveness for -my folly." -</p> -<p> -She laughed low and graciously at his vehemence, and answered, -good-humoredly, "How can I help forgiving one who has suffered so -grievously?" -</p> -<p> -"Ah, mademoiselle," he went on, with his eyes fixed upon the ground, "it -seems a light thing to suffer in that way, I know; but it is something -deeper than vanity that is wounded when one makes a false step in -entering a home like yours. My first glance at you, as you stood under -the doorway, told me, There is a woman whose friendship, whose -affection, would be worth a lifetime to win. And before I had spoken I -had forfeited them forever." He paused, not daring to look her in the -face. -</p> -<p> -"Surely," said she, in her even quiet tones, "the friendship of a woman -who would attach a serious construction to so harmless a joke would -scarcely be worth striving for." -</p> -<p> -He looked up with joyful assurance. "Then you forgive me!" he cried. -"Ah, you are too generous! But I knew you were like that. Last night, -when you sang for me in the porch, when we walked together in that -heavenly moonlight, I could find no words to offer you. What could you -have thought of me, as I stood dull and taciturn by your side? But no, -Fraulein Alide, surely you guessed what was passing within me. And now -that you know who I am, I feel as if I must give vent in speech to this -great emotion. I must thank you for your incredible goodness to me. -Again and again I must ask you to forgive me the alarm I have caused -you." -</p> -<p> -She made no answer, and he took her hand and imprinted a kiss upon its -dainty whiteness. She did not withdraw it, but suffered it to remain in -his. "And to think," said he, "that this morning I fancied myself -eternally separated from you! How little do we repose upon the -inexhaustible beneficence of the gods! Now I sit by your side, I look -into your eyes, I press to my lips your dear hand,—and an hour ago -there was a gulf between us. What does this mean, save that they will -bless us, they in whose guidance and support, like little children, we -confide?" And he bowed his stately head with simple reverence as he -spoke. -</p> -<p> -It would have been impossible to doubt the sincerity of that appeal. -This was not as her father spoke of Heaven, but Alide felt none the less -that the words came from the young man's inmost heart. While he talked, -he did not seem to have remarked how meditative and silent she had -become. She looked at him while his glance was bent away from her, and a -sudden glow overspread her face, and her eyes rested upon him with such -wonderful tenderness that he might have fancied their liquid depths were -filling with tears. He raised his head abruptly, and, noting her -agitation, he threw aside his grave air, and once more impetuously -craved her pardon. -</p> -<p> -"Alide! Alide!" It was the voice of her sister calling her. Immediately -she recovered her composure, together with her perfect cheerfulness. -"That will be a pretty story," said she. "She is coming hither on my -side." And she bent forward so as half to conceal Goethe. "Turn yourself -away, so that you may not be recognized at once." -</p> -<p> -As he did so, Rahel and Waldstein entered the grove, and both stood -still as if petrified. -</p> -<p> -"What is this? what is this?" cried Rahel, with the rapidity of one who -is frightened. "You hand in hand with Fritz,—how am I to understand -this?" -</p> -<p> -"Dear sister," said Alide, "the poor fellow is begging something of me, -and he has something to beg of you too; but you must forgive him -beforehand." -</p> -<p> -"I do not understand," said her sister, shaking her head and looking at -Max, who stood by and contemplated the scene without any kind of -expression. -</p> -<p> -Alide arose and drew Goethe after her. "No hesitating," cried -she,—"pardon begged and granted." -</p> -<p> -"Now do," said he, stepping near Rahel. "I have need of pardon." -</p> -<p> -She drew back, gave a loud shriek, and was covered with blushes. She -then threw herself down on the grass and laughed immoderately. Waldstein -smiled, and exclaimed, "You are a rare youth!" and he shook Goethe's -hand. He was not usually liberal of his caresses, and his shake of the -hand was hearty and cordial. -</p> -<p> -Rahel arose, and they all set out on their return to the parsonage. -Mutual explanations ensued, and Goethe learned that Alide had only -parted from the promenaders in order to rest in her little nook for a -moment before dinner; and when the others returned to the house, the -mother had sent them to call her, for dinner was ready. -</p> -<p> -"This is indeed too delightful!" cried Rahel, wiping the tears of -laughter from her eyes. "So mamma has discovered the secret, you say. -Now we have still to deceive papa, and Otto, and Minna, and Hans." -</p> -<p> -Amid a great deal of merriment, they mystified the servant-man and the -maid, and all four in high spirits entered the dining-room. The table -was covered, and the pastor was already waiting in the room. Rahel -paused on the threshold and called out, "Papa, have you any objection to -Fritz dining with us to-day? But you must let him keep his hat on." -</p> -<p> -"With all my heart," said the old man. "But why such an unusual thing? -has he hurt himself?" -</p> -<p> -"No," replied Rahel, leading Goethe forward, "but he has a bird-cage -under it, and the birds will fly out and make a terrible fuss, for they -are nothing but wild ones." So saying, she pulled off Goethe's hat and -bade him make his curtsy. -</p> -<p> -The pastor looked at him, but did not lose his priestly self-possession. -"Ay, ay, Mr. Candidate!" he exclaimed, raising a threatening finger, -"you have changed saddles very quickly, and in the night I have lost an -assistant who yesterday promised me so faithfully that he would often -mount my pulpit on week-days. Well, you are welcome in any guise." And -they all seated themselves at the table. -</p> -<p> -During the meal Otto came in, and, slapping Goethe on the shoulder, -said, "Good dinner to you, Fritz." -</p> -<p> -"Many thanks, squire," cried Goethe. The strange voice and the strange -face startled him. -</p> -<p> -"What do you say," asked Rahel,—"does he not look like his brother?" -</p> -<p> -"Yes, from behind, like all folks," said Otto, who would not acknowledge -himself surprised; and he did not look at Goethe again, but busied -himself with zealously devouring the dishes to make up for lost time. At -dessert the real Fritz came in; they began to banter him, but he was -modest and clever enough, and in a half-confused manner mixed up -himself, his sweetheart, his counterpart, and the mam'selles to such a -degree that no one could tell about whom he was talking, and they were -only too glad to let him consume in peace a glass of wine and a bit of -his own cake. -</p> -<p> -After dinner the young people assembled in the porch to decide how best -to take advantage of the serene afternoon. Their spirits were subdued by -a deep and tranquil happiness, and only quiet amusements were proposed. -A walk was objected to, as it would have been awkward for Goethe to meet -any of the neighboring country-folk in his borrowed clothes, and finally -Max suggested that as Wolfgang was the obstacle to their ordinary -pastimes, the entertainment of the company should devolve upon him. -</p> -<p> -"The fellow has any quantity of rhymes and fairy-tales in his valise," -said Waldstein, "and he can fetch some of them now and read to us in the -open air. What is the use of having a poet among us if we must divert -ourselves in as commonplace a way as other people?" -</p> -<p> -The proposition was hailed with delight, and Goethe was dispatched to -his room for his manuscripts. "How I wish all the family could enjoy -such a treat!" said Rahel; "but what is the use of calling them? I know -papa has gone for his nap, and mamma is always busy. Where shall we go -for our entertainment?" -</p> -<p> -"Why not to Fräulein Alide's 'Rest'?" asked Goethe, who had rejoined -them. -</p> -<p> -"No," said Alide, hurriedly, "that is too far; we will go into the -summer-house by the orchard." -</p> -<p> -"Excellent!" cried Max; "that is the very place. Wolf must pose as a -mediæval minnesinger, improvising his verses amidst beautiful damsels -in the open air." -</p> -<p> -"No," modestly replied Goethe, with a laugh; "no more <i>poses</i> for -me. After my misadventure yesterday, I am content to be simply Wolfgang -Goethe with these young ladies,—neither meistersinger, nor doctor, -nor peasant,—and if I can but redeem that name in their sight I -shall be grateful. Besides, I am not going to inflict any rhymes upon -you; it will be plain prose, and no very lofty flight of imagination, -either." -</p> -<p> -They took their seats in the arbor, with the sunlight flickering down on -them through the red vine-leaves; Goethe in the centre, and Alide -directly in front of him, with her chin resting on her hand, reflecting -in her upturned face the inspiration and excitement of the countenance -upon which her eyes were riveted. Rahel busied her restless fingers with -a piece of scarlet needlework, and Max as usual took a low seat near her -feet, whence he could admire the little downcast chestnut head. For more -than two hours the young magician held his circle enchanted, not so much -by the charm of the story, though that also exercised a powerful -attraction, as by the masterly modulations of his voice, the grace of -his unstudied attitude and occasional gestures, the infinite play of -expression upon his face,—in a word, by the irresistible influence of -his personality. -</p> -<p> -He succeeded in awakening curiosity, in fixing the attention, in -provoking over-hasty solutions of impenetrable riddles, in deceiving -expectations, in confusing by the more wonderful which came into the -place of the wonderful, in arousing sympathy and fear, in causing -anxiety, in moving, and at last, by the change of what was apparently -earnest into an ingenious and cheerful jest, in satisfying, the mind, -and leaving the imagination materials for new images, and the -understanding, materials for further reflection. -</p> -<p> -When it was over, there was a short pause. Then Max broke out, "Bravo, -bravo! it is beyond expectation!" -</p> -<p> -"How singular, how wonderful, it is!" echoed Rahel. "But you must let us -have a copy of it, that we may read it often among ourselves and show it -to our friends." -</p> -<p> -"To think that it is over now!" said Alide, wistfully, with a little -sigh. "Yes, Herr Goethe, you will promise what my sister asks, will you -not? It is not very long, and I am sure you could easily make a fair -copy of the whole, and leave it with us as a memento of this happy -afternoon." -</p> -<p> -"Most willingly," replied Goethe; "I will bring it to you from the city -as soon as I can transcribe it. But such a day as this has been for me -should indeed, as you say, leave something substantial in our -possession. Have I compensated sufficiently as Goethe for the follies of -Dr. Steck, to ask something from you, Fräulein Alide?" -</p> -<p> -"Is it in my power to grant?" asked she. -</p> -<p> -"It is the rose in your hair." -</p> -<p> -"Oh, is that all?" said she, simply. "I had forgotten it was -there,—it can scarcely be fresh now." And she untwisted the stem -of the white flower from her snood and threw it playfully into his -hands. -</p> -<p> -"The day has already come to a close for us," said Waldstein, with a -significant glance at his friend. "You know, Wolfgang, I must be back in -Strasburg to-morrow morning." -</p> -<p> -"Well, then, our holiday is over," assented Goethe, with a sigh. "We -will go to the house and take leave of all our kind entertainers." -</p> -<p> -As they were returning to the parsonage, he found occasion to whisper to -Alide, "Your wonderful goodness to me prompts me to one question more: -May I interpret as I please your generosity about the rose?" -</p> -<p> -"It means only one thing," said Alide, in a tremulous and almost -inaudible voice, while her face grew deadly pale, and she laid her hand -upon his arm. He seized it in his own, and kissed it passionately -without speaking. -</p> -<p> -Two hours later, he and his friend, after a silent walk across the -meadows, entered their quarters for the night, at the Drusenheim inn. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI -<br><br> -FIRST LOVE</h4> - -<p> -Far different had it been from the sunny stroll which they had enjoyed -the previous day. The seemingly harmless clouds that had overhung the -mountains since morning had now accumulated in threatening masses, and -rolled in huge gray vapors over all the heavens. A wet, penetrating mist -overspread the earth, and a chill wind that smelt already of the rain -blew drearily, now and then shaking down showers of condensed moisture -from the faded trees. As the two friends advanced, night came on so -suddenly that more than once they strayed from the path and were obliged -to retrace their footsteps. Goethe felt a grapple at his heart which led -his thoughts incessantly backward. At the last moment, when he was -taking leave in the porch, Alide had been sent by her father to fetch -the plans for the rebuilding of the manse, which Goethe had offered to -take with him to Strasburg. -</p> -<p> -"I am glad you are not going as far as the city to-night," said Rahel, -looking up at the clouds: "what a gloomy ending for such a bright day!" -</p> -<p> -"And yet," replied Goethe, "I shall always think of the parsonage as an -enchanted castle associated with perpetual sunshine." -</p> -<p> -"Well, if the storm should overtake you," answered Rahel, laughing, "my -sister and myself will be the powerful princesses to protect you till -you get beyond our dominions. Will we not, Alide?" And she turned to her -sister, who reappeared with the scroll. -</p> -<p> -"That we will," said Alide, with spirit; "and here is my talisman to -shield you from the dangers of the road." -</p> -<p> -When he looked back at her, he saw her smiling still upon him, until her -fresh rose-face and white-clad form were lost in the folds of mist, and -she vanished as weirdly and gradually as a spirit maiden. -</p> -<p> -"Well, I am not sorry to get under shelter after the infernal cold -darkness of this night," cried Max, as they entered their room at the -inn. -</p> -<p> -"We are fortunate to have escaped a storm," replied Goethe, and relapsed -into silence. -</p> -<p> -"It is strange," resumed Waldstein, "that you should have hit upon that -story to read to the girls. Did you not notice what a peculiar -impression it made?" -</p> -<p> -"How do you mean? I could not help observing that the elder laughed more -than was appropriate at certain passages, that Fräulein Alide shook her -head, that you all looked significantly at each other, and you yourself -were nearly put out of countenance. I do not deny that I almost felt -embarrassed myself, for it struck me that it was perhaps improper to -tell the dear girls a parcel of stuff of which they had better been -ignorant, and to give them such a bad opinion of the male sex as they -must have formed from the principal character." -</p> -<p> -"You have not hit it at all," said Max. "The 'dear girls' are not so -unacquainted with such matters as you imagine, for the society around -them gives occasion for many reflections; and there happens to be on the -other side of the Rhine exactly such a couple as you describe, allowing -a little for fancy and exaggeration; the husband just So tall and sturdy -and heavy, the wife so pretty and dainty that he could easily hold her -in his hand. Their mutual position in other respects, their history -altogether, so exactly accords with your tale, that the girls seriously -asked me whether you knew the persons and described them in jest. I -assured them you did not; and if you follow my advice you will let the -story remain uncopied. With the assistance of delays and pretexts you -may easily find an excuse." -</p> -<p> -It was only this night that Alide experienced the vague trouble of a new -passion. The ominous threats of a storm, so unexpected after the -resplendent brightness of the day, the wild, melancholy howling of the -rising wind, added to the turmoil of her own breast, held her eyes from -sleep during the long, slow hours; and, though she could assign no -cause, at intervals great tears would slowly gather under her lids and -trickle down her cheeks. When she recalled her own avowal to Goethe, she -felt her whole frame tremble and the blood mount to her face in the -darkness. Just as she was about to soothe herself to sleep with the -sweet thought that she loved and was beloved by one who was worthy, the -storm broke without. The rain streamed in floods on roof and pane and -gable, and startled her into hopeless wakefulness. She rose and looked -out into the blurred blackness of the night, while a thousand fantastic -terrors possessed her brain. The simple girl clasped her hands together, -and, kneeling by her bedside, implored the blessing and protection of -Heaven upon this stranger so suddenly endeared to her. This solemn -communion finally succeeded in quieting her, and she was able to gain a -few hours of profound and dreamless repose. -</p> -<p> -When she awoke, the clear sunlight was slanting through the lattice; she -could catch glimpses without of the brightness of the rain-washed blue -and green. Her heart was uplifted within her by the inspiriting sight. -How shadowy, how childish, seemed all the distorted fears of the night -before this dazzling reality! Goethe's words came back to her: "how -little do we repose in the inexhaustible beneficence of the gods!" and -from that moment a sense of perfect peace took entire possession of her. -All day it was as though she walked upon the clouds; the earth seemed -elastic beneath her footsteps; the air was a palpable tissue of color -and radiance; the heavens were filled with saints and angels, who -watched over him with the same universal eyes with which they shed all -blessed influences upon her. Her own thoughts sufficed her for perpetual -delight: every moment she recalled another expression, another gesture, -another word that she had remarked the previous day. She lived over and -over those magical hours. The toss of his head, the music of his -laughter, the characteristic movement of his hand over his brow, the -trick of his voice, the glimpse which she had caught of tears in his -eyes as she looked at him after her song in the porch, and reminiscences -more sacred than these which she scarcely dared put in words even in her -mind, set the poor child's head in a whirl of happiness from morning -till night. -</p> -<p> -The next day brought her a letter; there was no need to tell her who had -traced the bold and graceful characters of the superscription. It was -Fritz who carried it to her from the inn, and she had much ado to -conceal from him the extravagant delight which it occasioned her. She -succeeded, however, in receiving it with composure, even lingering a -moment to question him about his sister and her new baby. Then she -walked quietly away with her treasure in her hand. When she felt herself -out of his sight, she paused with a fluttering heart to decide where she -could enjoy it with the least danger of disturbance, and finally ran off -in the direction of the little grove where she had found Goethe the -morning after his arrival. She took her seat under the elm-tree, and -fora few moments contented herself with gazing at her own name in these -shapely Roman letters: "Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle Alide Duroc. The -Parsonage, Sesenheim." She was in no haste to possess and secure her -happiness; she liked to dally with it, that she might taste the -sweetness of its every phase. At last she broke the seal, and read so -slowly and deliberately that after a single reading she could have -repeated it from beginning to end, for every word had burned itself upon -her heart. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<blockquote> -<p style="margin-left: 30%;">"STRASBURG, OCTOBER 15, 1770. -</p> -<p> -"MY DEAR NEW FRIEND,—I dare to call you so, for if I can trust the -language of eyes, then did mine in the first glance read the hope of -this new friendship in yours,—and for our hearts I will answer. You, -good and gentle as I know you, will you not show some favor to one who -loves you so? Dear, dear friend, that I have something to say to you -there can be no question, but it is quite another matter whether I -exactly know wherefore I now write and what I may write. Thus much I am -conscious of by a certain inward unrest, that I would gladly be by your -side, and that a scrap of paper is as true a consolation and as winged a -steed for me here in noisy Strasburg as it can be to you in your quiet, -if you truly feel the separation from your friend. The circumstances of -our journey home you can easily imagine, if you marked my pain at -parting, and how I longed to remain behind. Waldstein's thoughts went -forward, mine backward; so you can understand how our conversation was -neither interesting nor copious. At the end of the Wanzenau we thought -to shorten our route, and found ourselves in the midst of a morass. -Night came on, and we only needed the storm, which threatened to -overtake us, to have had every reason for being fully convinced of the -love and constancy of our princesses. Meanwhile, the scroll which I held -constantly in my hand—fearful of losing it—was a talisman which -charmed away all the perils of the journey. And now—oh, I dare not -utter it!—either you can guess it, or you will not believe it! At -last we arrived, and our first thought, which had been our joy on the road, -was the project soon to see you again. How delicious a sensation is the -hope of seeing again those we love! And we, when our coddled heart is a -little sorrowful, at once bring it medicine, and say: Dear little heart, -be quiet, you will not long be away from her you love; be quiet, dear -little heart! Meanwhile we give it a chimera to play with, and then is -it good and still as a child to whom the mother gives a doll, instead of -the apple which it must not eat. -</p> -<p> -"You would not believe that the noisy gayety of Strasburg is -disagreeable to me after the sweet country pleasures enjoyed with you. -Never, mademoiselle, did Strasburg seem so empty to me as now. I hope, -indeed, it will be better when the remembrance of those charming hours -is a little dimmed,—when I no longer feel so vividly how good, how -amiable, my friend is. Yet ought I to forget that, or to wash it? No, I -will rather retain a little sorrow, and write to you frequently. And now -many, many thanks and many sincere remembrances to your dear parents. To -your dear sister, many hundred—what I would so willingly give you -again. -</p> -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">J. W. G."</p> -</blockquote> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -When she closed it, with a simple gesture she raised it to her lips and -kissed it tenderly; her face wore an expression of celestial calm, and -for a moment she sat with dreamy eyes, motionless, like one in a trance. -Then, rousing herself abruptly, and breaking forth into a song half -music and half laughter, she ran down the hill and home to the -parsonage, for a walk with Rahel or a romp with Goetz. -</p> -<p> -Every day this joy was repeated, and nearly every day with the letter -came such unostentatious gifts as he dared send her. The girl grew -singularly meek and gentle under the softening influence of her -happiness. She was continually asking herself what she had done to merit -such a beautiful destiny, and her sole aim in his absence was to render -herself in some degree worthy of his love. -</p> -<p> -Her parents could not find it in their hearts to endeavor to make her -look with more circumspection at the total transformation of her life. -Indeed, it was far from the honest pastor's wish to see her otherwise. -The mother could not repress many a gloomy foreboding in reflecting upon -the suddenness of the affection on either side, the youthfulness of -both, the inexperience and simplicity of her daughter, and the premature -worldly knowledge of the brilliant young man. But her husband had an -answer for every objection. -</p> -<p> -"We must not forget, Kitty, in our zeal for our children's happiness, -the feelings of our own youth. How much longer had I known you before we -stole a march upon our elders? And, indeed, I cannot wonder at her -fancy; I never saw myself a likelier lad. He has a better idea to-day of -all that our house needs than Klug and Guédin together. Besides, though -he did change his character the second day he was with us, I have not a -doubt that he could fulfil his promise, and deliver a fair enough sermon -for me on week-days." -</p> -<p> -"But it is not the assistance of a curate, Moritz, that you must put -into the scale with our darling's happiness." -</p> -<p> -"Nay, wife; it is only as it influences my opinion of his abilities that -I speak. And where could you find a more creditable match for her? His -family is among the most respectable in Frankfort, and Waldstein bears -testimony enough to the soundness of his heart. No, Kitty, let things -run their own course. It has ever been my opinion that we elders -interfere something too much in these matters. We cannot make our bleared -old vision serve for these young people,—we see much that they -may be happily blind to all their lives, and I warrant they have a world -of wonderful sights around them that is closed to us. It is a miracle -that two young hearts should know each other at sight, and make each -other's sunshine for a lifetime, and yet it is a miracle that often -comes to pass; there is a wiser One than we who watches over all. And do -you know, Käthchen, when I look at our baby Alide's face now, I feel as -young myself as though I were once again wooing thee." And he smiled -with tears in his eyes, and kissed his wife's forehead. -</p> -<p> -Many a time Alide tried to express to Goethe her joy and gratitude, but -nothing that she wrote could satisfy her, and it was with many -misgivings that she finally dispatched to him a letter. Even this, as -soon as it was fairly off, she would have recalled had it been possible. -She had not read it over, and had written it so rapidly that she had no -recollection of a single word it contained. The next morning, however, -all her fears were lost in the glad thought with which she awoke. "He -receives it to-day! How near we are together! It is almost as if I could -stretch out my hand and press his own there in Strasburg. Perhaps he -will come to me when he has read it!" And all day this idea gained in -strength upon her, until she had firmly convinced herself that she would -see him before night. She even told her sister that Goethe would be with -them that evening. -</p> -<p> -"Oh, I am so glad!" cried Rahel. "And the Stockmars and the Hellers -coming to-morrow! But how do you know? Will Max be with him?" -</p> -<p> -"One question at a time," said Alide, gently, who was a little startled -out of her visionary faith by her sister's eagerness. "I cannot answer -for Max, and Herr Goethe has not told me he would come; but I think he -will be here." -</p> -<p> -"Oh, pshaw!" said Rahel. "It is one of your ridiculous fancies, Alide. I -do not believe a word of it." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII -<br><br> -IN STRASBOURG</h4> - -<p> -Never before had Goethe found his varied occupations in the city so -wearisome as when he resumed them after his brief holiday at the -parsonage. Not long before, he had written to a friend that "for the -first time he knew what it was to be happy without his heart being -engaged. Pleasant people and manifold studies left him no time for -feeling. His life was like a sledge-journey, splendid and sounding, but -with just as little for the heart as it had much for eyes and ears." But -now all was different; he had hone of his previous animation to impart -to anything that he attempted. Perhaps had he been able to remain by -Alide's side, the fancy so suddenly enkindled would have burnt itself -out; but now that he was separated from her, it developed into an -absorbing passion which deprived him of all spirit for his ordinary -pursuits. Her every charm was infinitely magnified by distance and by -the most powerful of imaginations. He found himself forever contrasting -the tedium of this enforced absence with the blissful consciousness of -life and youth, and "that highest grace of love," which he had known in -her presence. He was obliged to renounce his sketching, for it gave his -mind too much scope to lose itself in idle reverie as he sat listlessly -before his canvas. At any other period of his life, his restlessness, -his longing, his depression, and his feverish excitement would have -found their surest and safest vent in composition,—in the production -of those inimitable songs, each one of which has crystallized a subtle, and -what had hitherto appeared an indescribable, condition or emotion of the -heart. But just now he had become the disciple of the cynical Herder, -who "had so spoiled his hopes and fancies respecting himself that he -began to doubt his own capabilities." This master "had torn down the -curtain which concealed from Goethe the poverty of German literature, -and had, ruthlessly destroyed many of his prejudices; in the sky of his -fatherland were but few stars of importance left, and the rest he was -now taught to regard as so many transient candle-snuffs." Thus there was -nothing left him but to pursue with diligence his serious studies. He -devoted himself to jurisprudence as assiduously as was required to take -his degree with credit, and he was able finally to interest himself in -medicine, because it "disclosed glimpses of Nature, if it did not reveal -her on every side." Moreover, he was attached to this science by -intercourse and habit. -</p> -<p> -His appearance changed as conspicuously as his feelings. No one would -have recognized this pale, moping youth, as he pored over his books or -roused himself to attend a medical lecture or to study every form of -disease in the city hospitals, as the wild, buoyant lad who had -illustrated with his inspiriting presence and his inexhaustible gifts a -day of sunshine at the Duroc parsonage. In society he became so reserved -and indifferent that he acquired the nicknames of the "wolf" and the -"bear." It was no feeble sentiment that such a man could entertain, for -he threw the whole force of his passionate nature into all that -attracted and possessed him. He was literally consumed by this hidden -fire. One consolation indeed was his,—he could write to her daily, -and he could transport himself in imagination to her presence while thus -holding communication with her, or even while studying the sketches for -the alteration of her home. He busied himself with a thousand plans for -the improvement and embellishment of that beloved dwelling, with a -thousand fantastic decorations for her own room, and meantime he sent -her constantly a new book, a curious ornament, a rare engraving with -which to adorn it when all was completed. -</p> -<p> -Once, and once only, did he receive a letter from her. He had never seen -her handwriting, and, coming as it did with half a dozen letters from -his family, the modest little missive was thrown carelessly aside until -he had read all the details of his home in Frankfort. Then he took it -up, vaguely wondering whence it could have come; but he had no sooner -broken the seal than the blood rushed into his face, and with a little -cry of joy he pressed it to his lips, and read it over and over long -after he could repeat it by heart. -</p> -<p> -"My dear Herr Goethe," wrote Alide, "I have tried many times to write -you my thanks for all your goodness to me, for the precious tokens of -your affectionate remembrance which you have so constantly sent me, -since that happy day, now nearly a month ago, that you passed with us. -But everything looks so cold, almost curt, on paper, that I have not -dared to send you such poor scraps as I have written. Now, however, I -will not let you any longer think me so ungrateful, and I will not read -my letter over, so that I may find courage to send it. Besides, when I -remember how indulgent you are to me, how you seem to see clearly only -that which is genuine in one's heart, I am greatly reassured. Indeed, -you are already more like an old friend than many with whom I have been -all my life familiar. Do you know, Herr Goethe, that ever since that day -I have been as happy as one in a dream? In the morning I awake with a -light heart, and think, 'What, then, do I possess which I never knew -before?' and then with a great rush of joy it all comes upon me, and -with it the hopeful feeling that I shall see you soon again. I do not -grow impatient,—it seems to me that I could wait for centuries, -knowing that in the end my friend will surely come. Formerly I was hasty, -petulant, sometimes even rude; but now nothing vexes me, nothing can -come between me and this wonderful new happiness. But I did not mean to -write so much when I began. I only wished to thank you for all your -gifts, especially the 'Book of Songs,' and, above all, your letters. I -must not write again; but do not think of me as sad or impatient, or any -other than the happiest girl in the world. -</p> -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">Alide Duroc."</p> -<p> -"November 5, 1770." -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -This cheerful letter imparted somewhat of its own joyousness to Goethe. -All day the words kept ringing in his ears with the sweet persistence of -some familiar melody. In the afternoon he went, according to his custom, -to the hospital, and with his respected instructor visited bed after -bed. His original disgust at the invalids had gradually subsided, for he -had learned to regard their various conditions as abstract ideas, -through which recovery and the restoration of the human form and nature -appeared possible. It was a singular anomaly for so young a man, and -especially one of his reputation, to devote himself so earnestly to such -a subject as this. To-day he seemed unusually pale and excited, and -there was a strange longing expression in his bright eyes. The professor -could not help regarding him with peculiar interest; he did not conclude -his lecture, as he was in the habit of doing, with some doctrine that -might have reference to some particular case of illness, but said, -cheerfully, "Gentlemen, there are some holidays before us; make use of -them to enliven your spirits. Studies must not only be pursued with -seriousness and diligence, but also with cheerfulness and freedom of -mind. Give movement to your bodies, and traverse the beautiful country -on horse and foot. He who is at home will take delight in that to which -he has been accustomed, while for the stranger there will be new -impressions and pleasant reminiscences for the future." -</p> -<p> -Goethe thought he heard a voice from heaven. He knew very well that the -admonition was principally intended for himself, and he could have -embraced with gratitude his worthy old friend. He made all the haste he -could to order a horse and dress himself for his visit. He sent for Max, -who was nowhere to be found; but this did not detain him. However, the -necessary preparations went on slowly, and he could not depart so soon -as he wished. Fast as he rode, darkness overtook him. It was a wild, -windy night; only at intervals would the clear round face of the moon -break forth in transparent brilliancy between the jagged white clouds. -He dashed on like a madman, resolved not to wait until the morning to -see her. The exhilaration of the night wind, the large expanse of the -open meadows, the weird effects of light and darkness caused by the -constant interchange of cloud and moonshine, added to his relief at -finding himself once more outside the city-barriers and on the road to -his beloved, made his heart swell with a feeling of reckless delight -almost amounting to intoxication. He breathed freely, he took off his -hat to let the wild breeze blow full upon his face; he longed to shout -aloud as he careered along the familiar path. The clock was striking ten -as he entered the Drusenheim inn; he inquired of the landlord whether -there was yet a light in the parsonage, and was answered that the ladies -had only just gone home,—they had said they were expecting a -stranger. Goethe's heart fell; he had wished to be the only one; still, -he might hasten forward and, at any rate, be the first; and with this -thought he started upon his walk to the manse. -</p> -<p> -As he passed through the gate he recognized the figures of the two girls -with their brother in the porch, just about to enter the house. They -turned at the sound of his footsteps in the garden-lane, and he fancied -he heard Alide whisper to Rahel, "Did I not say so? Here he is!" -</p> -<p> -"Am I too late to bid you good-evening?" he called out, as he hastened -towards them. -</p> -<p> -"No, indeed," answered the girls, eagerly; "we are just going in to -supper." And they both let him kiss their hands for welcome. Goethe -followed them at once into the house, only pausing in the hall to throw -off his heavy riding-cloak. They led him into the supper-room, where the -pastor and Madame Duroc were seated and a table was spread. As Rahel -looked at him in the light, she burst into a loud laugh, for she had -little command over herself. He wore a complete costume of black velvet -garnished with silver lace; the wind had reddened his cheeks, and blown -some of the powder out of his brown hair, giving it a soft gray color -that contrasted more conspicuously than pure white with his youthful -face. He was somewhat disconcerted by this odd reception, but the pastor -and his wife rose and greeted him like an old acquaintance; and then -Rahel, without the least embarrassment, said,— -</p> -<p> -"You must really pardon my laughing, Herr Goethe, but it is so comical, -when I think of Fritz's double and Dr. Julius Steck, to see you decked -out so finely this evening." -</p> -<p> -He answered good-humoredly, and in a short time the conversation flowed -as freely as though he were already one of their family. -</p> -<p> -As for Alide, she was perfectly content. It was enough to have him once -more in their midst; to feel that he made, if only for this one night, -part of their home-circle; to know that she had but to raise her eyes to -behold, in living reality, this face which for so long had been a -shadowy vision perpetually before her. She was like a child, delighting -to play little tricks with her happiness. While one of her family -talked, she would avert her head at times, and imagine that he was not -there, just for the thrill it gave her to hear his vibrant young voice -respond, or to turn suddenly and assure herself of his actual presence. -But her joyous fancies did not make her pensive or abstracted; she -entered with unwonted spirit into the conversation; her soft laughter -rippled gayly forth, the color mounted to her cheeks, her blue eyes -sparkled brilliantly. Her own family looked on in surprise at the -magical transformation of their quiet, reserved Alide. -</p> -<p> -Finally they separated for the night. Goethe was disappointed at not -having been able to find a moment's opportunity to whisper a word in her -ear; but he soon fell asleep, with a feeling of profound satisfaction at -knowing himself once more under this beloved roof. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII -<br><br> -HAPPINESS</h4> - -<p> -The wind had subsided in the night, and one of those rare soft days that -belong to the golden weather called St. Martin's summer, shone from the -cloudless skies. A pale, blue-green haze overhung the earth; the breath -of the air had something indescribably caressing. If one had looked only -at the fresh verdure of the pasture-slopes, the dusky foliage of the -vineyards, or the brilliant bloom of the garden, it would not have been -difficult to fancy that the glory of the year was just developing; but -along the woodland paths, and in the despoiled orchard, the bare -branches and the crumpled brown leaves underfoot told a different tale, -and lent the pathetic grace of evanescence to the exquisite scene. Clear -and musical through the still atmosphere pealed the village church -bells; but after the noise of Strasburg every sound made music to -Goethe, as he walked by the side of Alide along the sweet fading fields, -with the Sabbath quiet in the air. They had much to tell each other, for -they now lived over together the days they had passed apart; now did -Alide confess that her heart had prophesied his coming, and now she -imparted to him her own serenity. The more familiar he became with this -white maiden-soul, the more was he astonished at the circumspect -cheerfulness, the naïveté combined with self-consciousness, the good -and lovable qualities which at every word revealed themselves. He could -discern, from the friendly greetings of the peasants whom they met, that -she was benevolent and promoted their comfort. How many hours of such -unalloyed happiness dare one promise one's self from life? And yet these -two filled this perfect moment by looking forward and backward. They -arranged their plans for the day, and decided how, among all the guests -and the various amusements, they would keep together in the dance and -the game. -</p> -<p> -Though they walked slowly, with many loiterings by the road, they -reached the church all too soon for Goethe. The open joyousness of -Alide's face gave way to a decorous expression of seriousness as she -passed from the sunshine into the twilight of the sacred building. -Goethe, young as he was, had long since dissociated the sentiment of -religion from outward ceremony, and his thoughts and feelings underwent -no change when he found himself in the place of worship. They sat alone, -for Rahel and the mother were busied at home with preparations for their -other guests. The young man dreamed away in a strange trance the hours -of service; he was vaguely conscious of occasional bursts of music and -of the monotonous voice of the pastor, and after all was over he knew -that he had sat through a long sermon, of which he did not recollect a -single word. Now and then he gave a sudden furtive glance at his -companion. She did not seem to remember that he was beside her; her long -golden lashes rested upon her fresh cheek as she bent her eyes -constantly upon her prayer-book; her face was irradiated by a pure, -spiritual calm. Once only did she turn and look upon him, before the -sermon began, with an ineffable expression of tranquil joy beaming from -her eyes, and then again she was rapt in her own world of simple -devotion, with a dim fancy that he was following her, and that the pious -platitudes of her father were inspiring Goethe with the same celestial -satisfaction with which they nourished her. The pastor spoke of death -and suffering, but to her nothing was sad in this exalted hour: death -itself did not mean separation, but only closer and eternal union; and -what was suffering on earth with such a one to comfort and to be -comforted? -</p> -<p> -But he was far from her world at this moment: his piercing intellect, -that had so early discerned the paradoxes of men's beliefs and broken -loose from the shackles of creed and dogma, was haunted by, a childish -superstition. He was overcome by the painful memory of the last time a -woman's lips had pressed his own, and had cursed him while they kissed. -He was no longer in the village church, where the pastor's voice went -droning on, and the country sounds of bird and insect came sleepily -through the open window that let in the blue sunbeams and the warm, -summer-like air. He was in the close, small room of his dancing-master, -where a few months ago the passionate, sibyl-like French girl had wound -her arms about his neck, thrust her long white fingers in his hair, -pressed her own black locks against his cheek, and, kissing him -repeatedly on the mouth, in a mad paroxysm of jealousy, cried out, "Woe -upon woe for ever and ever to her who kisses these lips for the first -time after me!" -</p> -<p> -It all came back to him now; indeed, he had not forgotten it heretofore, -but he had without difficulty held himself aloof from women, for he was -pleased to imagine that such a consecration sanctified no less than -cursed his lips. It had even flattered his vanity to think that he had -some subtle power to injure, in an unheard-of spiritual manner, any -woman from whom he courted this favor, that may mean so much or so -little. But now he paused to free himself from the spell; he knew that -in the rural games that would be indulged in during the day he should in -all probability be required to claim the forfeit of a kiss from his -beloved, and he shuddered at the consequences of the harmless pastime, -and taxed his utmost ingenuity to devise some means of evasion. -</p> -<p> -When the service was over, Alide rose with a visible benediction upon -her face; but Goethe remained anxious and subdued. An unutterable pity -and tenderness overcame him when he looked at her and thought that over -and above his own will, nay, in opposition to the most sacred instincts -of his heart, Fate working through him might injure, crush, or ruin this -exquisite creature. However, when they were once more in the fragrant -air of the open meadows, all morbid fears and presentiments passed from -his mind. With an impatient toss of his head he shook them from him, as -one might disperse a swarm of troublesome insects, and gave himself up -wholly to the enjoyment of the present. -</p> -<p> -As they neared the parsonage, they saw the various guests enlivening -with their bright-colored costumes the garden and porch. "Ah, there is -dear Rosa Stockmar!" cried Alide. "I was so afraid she would not be with -us,—I am sure you will like her, Herr Goethe. That is she in blue, -standing under the apple-tree, with Rahel and Cousin Wilhelm. And there -are Joachim Heller and his sister Margaret, and in the porch stands Dr. -Braun. How pleasant that they should already have arrived!" -</p> -<p> -With the charming self-possession of a simple nature, she entered the -gate with the stranger by her side, and welcomed them all heartily with -such frank interchanges of affection between cousins and old -acquaintances, as would have aroused her new friend's jealousy had they -not been given and taken with such innocent freedom. Then with equal -ease and grace she presented Herr Wolfgang Goethe, and in a few moments -the conversation was as lively and unrestrained as though they were a -bevy of life-long friends. -</p> -<p> -"Let us go to my arbor," said Alide. "We shall be sheltered from the -sun, which is quite too warm for November; and, besides, I have ordered -my fairies to prepare a surprise for you there." -</p> -<p> -They set out in high spirits for the arbor, Alide foremost with her -cousin Wilhelm, and Goethe with the merry Rosa Stockmar by his side. Now -he could contrast his sweetheart's refinement of beauty, breeding, and -nature with the provincial tone of her circle. Rosa was a gay, -bright-eyed little creature, of thoroughly plebeian type, and, though -there was nothing indecorous or even imprudent in her remarks and jests, -still, their unabashed freedom and familiarity wellnigh amounted to -coarseness. Almost immediately she began to rally her companion on his -interest in their young hostess. -</p> -<p> -"I suppose you do not come from our parts," said she, scrutinizing him -openly; "for I have never seen you nor heard your name before. But there -is one thing I can answer for. You have never seen on either side of the -Rhine a sweeter girl than Alide Duroc. She is a perfect darling. Mamma -often tells me I am wrong to praise her so much, for I shall never -please where she is a favorite,—she is too stately and reserved. But, -pshaw! what do I care? What is in me, that will come out, and I have my -eyes well open. I know whom she has already pleased. Do you know what I -will do? We are to have plenty of games this afternoon; I suppose you -can play them, though you do look like His Highness's lord-in-waiting. -Well, I will warrant you, when we play jack's-a-light, to win a forfeit -from Alide, and you may ask for whatever you please. You don't look like -a lad who would let his chances slip through his fingers." -</p> -<p> -Before Goethe could remonstrate, they had reached the crest of the -little hill, and found themselves in Alide's "Rest." Her "surprise" was -a luncheon spread in the middle of the grove; and the exclamations of -delight and admiration which broke from the guests rewarded her for the -pains she had bestowed on the tasteful decoration of her arbor. The meal -was enjoyed with the buoyant merriment of youth, and here, as elsewhere, -Goethe led the gayety. With song, jest, and anecdote he amused those -within hearing, and exhilarated all by the contagious example of his own -almost reckless spirits. Whatever he did, he did in earnest. It is this -faculty of great men which makes their simplest action fresh and -original; they are generous of their soul, they meet with abundant -vitality the demands of every hour, and thus shed a peculiar glory upon -whatever claims their regard. To have seen Goethe at such a moment as -this, one would have supposed him ambitious of no higher enjoyment than -that of a frolic or a festival; he was the veriest boy of the party in -liveliness and fun. And yet it needed no keen observer to perceive that -"nothing he did but smacked of something greater than himself," for the -magnetism of his personality bore as emphatically the impress of his -genius as anything durable that he has left behind. -</p> -<p> -During the day and evening he succeeded skillfully in evading the -forfeit of a kiss from Alide, though his escape was rendered the more -difficult by the roguish interference of Rosa Stockmar and her -companions, who tried to force them together in order to be amused with -their confusion. The greater part of the day was spent in the open air, -and the soft sunshine, the transparent haze, the delicate purity of the -remote pale sky imperceptibly did their share towards filling with -joyful serenity these two youthful hearts just expanding into the -perfect blossom of love. The knowledge that each heart beat only for the -other sufficed to make the presence of all this merry company unreal as -any dream. The swift eyebeams interchanged, the pressure of a hand in -the game, the close embrace in the rapid waltz, made a mute, delicious -communication that satisfied them both for the time. -</p> -<p> -After dinner, Goethe had been talking with the pastor about the old -gentleman's favorite theme, the rebuilding of the parsonage, and had -offered to prepare a ground-plan. Dr. Duroc, highly pleased, hurried off -at once to confer with the schoolmaster, so that the yard and foot -measure might be ready early on the morrow. At that moment Alide -hastened to Goethe's side. "How kind, how good you are," she said, "to -humor my dear father on his weak side!—not, like others, to get weary -of this subject, to avoid him, or to break it off. I must indeed confess -to you that the rest of us do not desire this building: it would be too -expensive for the congregation, and for us also. A new house, new -furniture! Our guests would not feel comfortable with us, now that they -are accustomed to the old building. Here we can treat them liberally; -there we should find ourselves straitened in a wider sphere. But do not -you fail to be agreeable. I thank you for it from my heart." -</p> -<p> -On the following day the measurement of the house took place. It was a -slow proceeding, for Goethe was as little of an adept in the art as the -schoolmaster himself. At last he decided to return to Strasburg -immediately, to prepare more conveniently and deliberately the plan -which had occurred to him. The good father was delighted at the young -man's interest in the scheme, and granted permission to leave at once. -Alide herself dismissed him with joy; now that each felt certain of the -other's love, the six leagues seemed no longer any distance, and a -constant communication could be kept up through the diligence, -messengers, and letters. He therefore once more bade farewell, with the -promise of a speedy return, and, supported by a buoyant feeling of hope, -set forth on his journey to town. -</p> -<p> -It was already dark when he reached his lodging, but the first thing he -did was to seat himself at his desk and draw as neatly as possible the -plan which he had conceived. When he had succeeded in sketching out a -tolerably good idea of the whole, he laid it aside with a sigh of -pleasure and satisfaction, and began a letter to Alide. It was late at -night before he could tear himself away from this charming occupation. -While he wrote, she seemed to be before him, brightening his dingy, -lamp-lit room with her own open-air atmosphere. He could not weary of -conjuring up in imagination the endowments of her beautiful nature and -nourishing the hope of seeing her soon again. Early the next morning -this letter was dispatched, with a little package of books, and his own -messenger brought back to him her answer of thanks and affection. Thus -for a few days the delicious nothings of love were transported between -these bewitched ones, annihilating space and time, and uniting them in -the closest communion of thoughts and feelings. There was no longer any -need of an address from his worthy medical instructor. Those words -spoken at the right time had so completely cured him of his morbid -desires that he had no particular inclination to see the professor or -the patients again. At the end of the week he received a letter from -Alide inviting him to a festival, for which some friends from the other -side of the Rhine were also coming, and begging him to make arrangements -for a long stay. This he did by packing at once a stout portmanteau on -the diligence, and in a few hours he was in her presence. -</p> -<p> -She was standing in the centre of a noisy group of young people, holding -her arm upraised, while they tried to guess what she concealed in her -closed hand. He had not been announced, but she felt his presence as he -stood in the doorway. Her arm dropped by her side; "Wolfgang!" she -murmured under her breath, as she sprang forward to welcome him. But her -delight was saved from seeming conspicuous by the apparently equal -pleasure manifested on the part of all her family. "Papa, mamma, here is -our good friend Goethe!" cried Rahel, as she warmly pressed his hand, -while the pastor and his wife greeted him with the familiarity of an old -friend. -</p> -<p> -"Who can he be?" "One would say they were all in love with him!" "Where -can he have come from?" were the whispered comments of the guests as -they saw their sport interrupted by this intruder. -</p> -<p> -But soon the rich, resonant voice of Goethe was heard above them all. -"Do not let me interfere, my dear, kind friends, with your pleasure. It -is like coming home to find myself again in your happy circle; but, if -Madame Mamma and the young ladies will excuse me, I will retire at once -with you, Dr. Duroc, to show you the sketches I have brought, and with -your permission I will return soon and enter into the game." -</p> -<p> -"What! already you have made these sketches? Impossible!" exclaimed the -delighted pastor. "You are a capital fellow! Come with me at once, and -we will look them over on the porch." And, resting his hand in a -fatherly manner on the young man's shoulder, he went with him from the -room. -</p> -<p> -When he saw the beauty of the spotless parchment, with the bold yet -delicate lines traced upon it in accordance with his own dearest views, -he was quite beside himself with joy. -</p> -<p> -"I see! I see!" he cried; "this is just such a plan as I would have -designed myself. Here indeed is the most beautiful result attained with -the greatest economy of means and combined with the highest utility. Ah, -my dear boy, what genius inspired you in sketching this plan? You will -one day be a great architect. But I stand and prate, instead of -exhibiting this exquisite piece of workmanship to our friends within. -Come back with me, and let me show it to them at once." -</p> -<p> -Goethe had stood by, smiling with pleasure at his own success and at the -pastor's gratification, but he became serious at this, and interposed -hurriedly,— -</p> -<p> -"Nay, my good sir, I am afraid yonder merry folks are not just now in -the mood to examine my sketches carefully, and they might not concur in -your flattering estimate." -</p> -<p> -"Tut, tut, child!" replied Dr. Duroc; "no false modesty! I think I know -a good thing when I see it. Come along with me." -</p> -<p> -And with the sheets in one hand, and with the other gently drawing -Goethe by the wrist, he returned in high good humor to the room. The -game was just over, and the company were scattered about in little -groups, evidently expecting, like so many children, some new diversion -to be offered them. -</p> -<p> -"My good people," said the host, as he led Goethe among them, "I am -proud to present to you my talented young friend Herr Wolfgang Goethe. -Only see what a specimen of his handiwork I have here to show you!" -</p> -<p> -His visitors took little notice of Goethe's profound bow, but hastened -towards the library-table, curious to see what novel entertainment was -going forward. The young man, however, was no whit disconcerted, for a -reassuring smile from Alide, together with a deprecatory shrug of her -shoulders as she indicated by a cunning side-glance the other guests, -dispelled immediately any embarrassment which so brusque an introduction -and so ungracious a reception might have occasioned. -</p> -<p> -"Look!" cried the simple pastor; "is not this just such a manse as you -would wish your vicar to dwell in?" And he unfolded sheet after sheet -and pointed out the various beauties and conveniences. But he met with -no sympathy on the part of his friends: knowing the work to be that of -so exceedingly young a man, whose name was, moreover, quite unfamiliar, -each one was anxious to cavil at every particular and thus display his -own superior knowledge. -</p> -<p> -"These chimneys are quite out of date," said one: "they have been -superseded by a much better style." -</p> -<p> -"The porch is entirely out of harmony with the rest of the building," -sneered another: "one might as well vault a Gothic arch over an Ionic -capital." -</p> -<p> -"It is not possible to throw the stairs so far back," suggested the -wisest head of all. "It looks well on paper, but a very little practical -experience would have told him that it could not be carried into -effect." -</p> -<p> -Goethe stood by in calm superiority, with a feeling of intense -amusement. It was as if he had no interest in the success of these -sketches which he had wrought out so diligently and with such admirable -skill. He was too happy in Alide's presence to entertain a moment's -anger, and he heard their rude and ignorant remarks with the unconcerned -critical pleasure with which he might have sat a spectator of one of -Molière's comedies. But Alide was flushed with shame and indignation at -the unmannerly behavior of her guests, no less than at their injustice -to this gifted, courteous, incomparable young man. She could not have -conceived that their opinions were not of the slightest account to him, -for this was all her world, and she longed to go forward to Goethe and -efface the painful impression with kind, encouraging words. -</p> -<p> -As for the pastor, he assumed an odd expression of wonder and -bewilderment on hearing such unsparing censure of that which had to him -appeared so excellent. But all other feelings were absorbed in rage when -a pompous, officious, elderly man behind him, coolly taking a pencil -from his pocket, drew with a bold, free hand such coarse lines and marks -upon the clear white paper as irretrievably to destroy the symmetry of -the original design. -</p> -<p> -"How dare you, sir?" cried the pastor, suffocated with anger and -disappointment. "How have you the insolence——" -</p> -<p> -"Papa! papa!" interposed Rahel, trying to calm him. -</p> -<p> -"Do not be so vexed, dear sir," said Goethe, quietly stepping forward. -"It is nothing, I assure you, that cannot be easily remedied. I am more -than indebted to this experienced gentleman for his generous -suggestions. In reality, sir, no harm is done. You know I told you these -were but the sketches from which the perfect drawings were afterwards to -be constructed; and I doubt not that I shall be able to devise something -far better on a second trial." -</p> -<p> -"Yes, you are kind, you are generous," said the pastor; "but this is too -outrageous. Perhaps in a little while I may be able to forget it." And, -endeavoring to conceal his excited temper, he hastened from the room. -</p> -<p> -Alide now advanced to Goethe, and, taking him frankly by the hand, she -thanked him aloud for his attention to her father and for his patience -under so great an annoyance. Just then the discomfited author of all -this mischief, who had erred only through ignorance, mustered sufficient -courage to step up to them both, and earnestly begged Goethe's pardon -for the vexation he had caused him. Goethe was only too glad to accept -his excuses, and thus in a few moments perfect harmony was restored. -</p> -<p> -"Do you not recognize Raymond and Melusina?" whispered Alide, as the -repentant mar-feast retired. "It is Herr Bernard, and that dainty little -creature in the corner is his wife. We call her Melusina ever since you -read to us in the summer-house." -</p> -<p> -Thus he was flattered by seeing the impression his ideas had already -made on this circle, of which he had yet seen so little. His words were -treasured, his thoughts were adopted, his least action was rendered -significant by the importance it assumed in these indulgent eyes. -</p> -<p> -The remainder of the day was spent with still more gayety and pleasure -than the last Sunday he had passed by the side of Alide. Without effort, -he succeeded in imparting additional zest and vivacity to every pastime -and heightening every frolic by many a comical choice. His unbounded -happiness made him even more than usually talkative, merry, ingenious, -forward; and yet he was kept in moderation by esteem and attachment. She -on her part was open, sympathizing, cheerful, and communicative. They -both appeared to live for the company, and yet lived only for each -other. After dinner they went outside, for the season was particularly -mild and genial, and sought the shade, where social games were begun. On -redeeming the forfeits, everything was carried to excess. The gestures -which were commanded, the acts which were to be done, the problems which -were to be solved, all showed a mad joy that knew no limits. Alide shone -by many a droll thought; she appeared to Goethe more charming than ever. -All superstitious, hypochondriacal fears vanished, and when the -opportunity offered of heartily kissing one whom he loved so tenderly, -he did not miss it, nor deny himself a repetition of the pleasure. -</p> -<p> -After the games, one of the party succeeded in hunting up a couple of -village musicians, and a waltz was enjoyed in the meadow. The national -dance known as the "Allemande" had superseded all others, and in this -their young limbs and light hearts did not tire. It was Alide's favorite -amusement, and she was delighted to find in Wolfgang a graceful, expert -partner. Again and again they waltzed together, losing sight of all -prudent considerations in the exhilaration caused by the lively -movement, the close embrace, the whispered words that thrilled through -either's soul, the intoxicating freedom of the fresh mountain-air, the -elastic earth beneath, and the boundless horizon around. -</p> -<p> -There was an interlude in the music, and he led her some distance from -the company to a rustic seat that had been built in a circle around the -colossal trunk of an oak-tree. She was not red and breathless like the -others; the fluttering of her heart was more evident in the increased -brilliancy of her eyes than in the scarcely-perceptible flush that -heightened the natural rose of her cheeks. Under the almost transparent -ruffles of her white stomacher, he could see the purer warm white of her -soft neck rise and fall with somewhat quickened palpitations, but -outwardly she was as calm as though she had not taken part in the waltz. -For this delicate, supple creature, motion was as easy and natural as -rest. -</p> -<p> -Just as she took her seat, Rahel, who had followed them with her eyes, -advanced hurriedly and whispered in her sister's ear, loud enough to be -heard by Goethe, "Everybody is remarking you; mamma is greatly -displeased, and we all advise you to go no further in this wild manner." -So saying, she ran away to rejoin her companions. Alide looked up at -Goethe with the troubled, frightened expression of a child who appeals -for a caress no less than for protection. Her eyes were brimming with -tears, her cheeks glowing with pain and shame. He took the dear little -flower-face between both his hands, and, bending over her, kissed -tenderly the pouting lips. "My darling, I love you: is not that enough?" -The wistful mouth broke into a radiant smile, though the dim moisture of -the eyes gathered into two lustrous, happy tears that quivered upon the -lashes. Gently she disengaged herself from the clasp of his hands, and, -with a little sigh of peaceful joy, rested her head in silence upon his -breast. -</p> -<p> -For a moment neither spoke or moved, save that the caressing fingers of -Goethe stroked softly the warm, wavy gold above her brow. He was the -first to break the stillness. -</p> -<p> -"I know that I am foolish, sweetheart; your loving kindness, your tender -confidence, these are much, far more than I deserve, and yet my heart -hungers in this silence to hear you utter such words as I have spoken." -</p> -<p> -She broke from his embrace, clasped her hands together, and, upturning -to him a countenance so transfigured and exalted by love that he would -scarcely have known it for that of the child who had reposed on his -breast, whispered, passionately, "I love you—I love you—I love -you!" And, almost falling from her seat, she hid her burning face in her -hands. -</p> -<p> -"That is my own Alide; how can I thank you?" he said, soothingly, as -with indescribable tenderness he withdrew her hands and kissed them -gratefully. Then, slipping one quietly through his arm, he went on: -"Rise, my betrothed; we will take a walk through the meadows; the fresh -air will cool your flushed cheeks, and we shall be able to meet once -more with composure our friends." -</p> -<p> -She obeyed, though her slight frame trembled as she leaned upon his arm. -But it was only the excitement of the first few moments that wrought -such a powerful effect upon her sensitive temperament She was soon -quieted into her ordinary calmness, and even her lively flow of spirits -was restored, as she walked with him across the sunset fields. Long and -slender before them their shadows fell upon the bronzed grass that -basked in the last rich glow of the autumn sunset. A narrow bar of -purple cloud rested motionless in the green clearness of the western -sky; it was the only vapor in that sweep of ethereal brilliancy from -east to west. So these two sauntered amid the gorgeous panorama of earth -and cloud and sky, carrying within their own hearts the very fire of -heaven. -</p> -<p> -The daylight had faded, and moon and stars were rising, as they rejoined -their companions at the parsonage. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX -<br><br> -AFTER-THOUGHTS</h4> - -<p> -Throughout the evening the extravagant gayety of the merry party -continued. At supper, people did not return to their sober senses; -dancing went on far into the night, and there was as little want of -healths and other incitements to drinking as at noon. Amid a great deal -of boisterous mirth, the last good-nights were exchanged after midnight, -and the guests conducted to their various apartments. Alide was tripping -through the silent hall, when she heard her name uttered in a suppressed -voice, and, turning round, she saw her mother standing at her own door, -beckoning to her to come in. She obeyed swiftly and noiselessly: -preoccupied with joyous thoughts, she did not remark the serious, almost -sad, expression of her mother's face. -</p> -<p> -"I have a word to say to you before you sleep," said Madame Duroc, -seating herself on a couch and motioning Alide to a low bench at her -feet. "I am afraid I must give you pain," she went on, gently caressing -the golden little head at her knees. "I had thought to keep you still a -child for awhile yet with me; but no, to-night I must speak to you as a -woman, and let you know the grave significance of a life that has -already begun in earnest. Alide, your conduct to-day has been very -displeasing to me: beyond the limits of decorum and of courtesy to your -old friends, you have evinced your preference for this young man Goethe, -who has ingratiated himself so suddenly into your father's heart and -into our family circle. It is now only a little over a month that you -have known him; you are not giddy or thoughtless like some of your -companions, but you are infatuated by the charm of his appearance and -address. A word is sufficient, my child, for one so sensible and docile -as you. Let this day be the last that you distinguish this stranger by -so much kindness. Your fancy has been kindled, your imagination excited; -but go to your room, examine yourself duly, pray to your heavenly Father -for guidance and discretion, and try to stifle at once so vain a -sentiment before it develops into something that may occasion a -life-trouble." -</p> -<p> -She paused, but Alide did not stir or speak: she was conscious of a -strange sort of double existence as she sat with her head buried in her -mother's lap; she was the happy, fortunate Alide, Goethe's beloved, and -she was the wayward child to be reproved and guided by the warning words -of her elders. Seeing her so still, Madame Duroc was alarmed lest the -effect of a reprimand had been too harsh upon such a sensitive -temperament. -</p> -<p> -"Alide," she whispered, tenderly, "do not be so much overcome. I have -only spoken now because I did not wish to leave it too late; nothing is -lost as yet." -</p> -<p> -"Oh, mamma," said Alide, upturning suddenly a face neither blushing nor -tearful, but smiling, trustful, and composed, "you are very, very good -to me, but you do not understand: it is not shame that I feel, it is -pride and joy and happiness. I love him!" -</p> -<p> -"My child, you do not know what you are saying!" cried Madame Duroc; -"you do not know what those words mean. You cannot realize what disgrace -it is for one of our sex to take the initiative in such a matter as -this. You have not recognized his power, my poor, confiding child; the -whole world is open to one of his force and genius. He will despise the -choicest gifts your simple heart can proffer him; he will——" -</p> -<p> -"Oh, mamma, hush!" interrupted Alide, springing to her feet. "It is you -who do not know him, who do not know me: we are already betrothed." -</p> -<p> -"Betrothed!" exclaimed Madame Duroc, sinking back in her seat. -</p> -<p> -"Do not be angry, dear, good mamma," said Alide, kneeling before her and -taking both her hands affectionately. "He was to tell you himself -to-morrow. We had arranged it all, and I should not have spoken now, but -I could not help it. It is much better to avoid from the beginning all -misunderstandings and mistakes, is it not?" -</p> -<p> -Madame Duroc made no answer, but silently folded her daughter to her -breast, and kissed repeatedly the soft white brow. "Since it is thus," -she said, at last, "may you be blessed!" And Alide felt a scalding tear -drop upon her cheek. -</p> -<p> -"Ah, you are harassed after a tiresome day, dear mamma," said she, -caressingly. "It is late now; I wish I could have waited till to-morrow -to tell you; it is not possible in this dim room, at this melancholy -hour, to realize so much light and joy cast on one's whole life. Oh, -mamma, what a noble son you will see in him to-morrow, in the cheerful -daylight! and how you will rejoice with me in my beautiful destiny!" -</p> -<p> -An hour later, Alide was sleeping profoundly and dreamlessly after the -excitements of this wonderful white day. But Frau Duroc's pillow was -stained with tears pressed painfully from wakeful eyes. Her mind was -possessed with gloomy forebodings: the mother-heart was yearning in the -darkness after the darling of the nest, so suddenly and irrevocably -flown. -</p> -<p> -As for Goethe, he, like Alide, outwearied by such strong emotions, had -fallen at once into a deep, refreshing slumber; but scarcely had he -slept thus for a few hours when he was awakened by a heat and tumult in -his blood. Stretched out, defenseless as he was, his imagination now -presented to him the liveliest forms. Excited by love and passion, wine -and dancing, his thoughts raged in confusion, and his feelings were -tortured into a state of despair. He was thoroughly, keenly -awake,—what apparition was this standing by his bedside? The -French girl, Lucinda, clad in black, with night-black hair, glowing -cheeks, sparkling eyes, and passionate gestures, slowly receding from -him. His lips were still afire from her ardent kiss, her shrill -imprecation rang painfully in his ears, "Woe upon woe for ever and -ever!" as she pointed with her long thin finger opposite to her, where -stood Alide, pale, motionless, with her fair, disheveled locks waving -about her white-robed form, outstretching her arms towards him in -piteous supplication, feeling the consequences of the curse, and yet -ignorant of their cause. Between these two, he lay trembling in every -limb, as little able to ward off the spiritual effects of the adventure -as to avoid the evil-boding kiss. Yes, he had harmed irretrievably the -dearest of beings,—the spell had not been broken; far from having -freed himself from the curse, it was flung back from his lips into his -heart. He sprang up in bed, and looked wildly about him. The illusion -vanished, but he could not calm the fever of his blood, that boiled and -throbbed in his veins. The myriad possible results of his passion -presented themselves to him in such sombre colors as utterly to preclude -the chance of sleep or repose for the remainder of the night. He saw -this exquisite maiden whom he loved so tenderly, ruined, deflowered, -dead. Could it be possible, he mused, that despite the energy of will, -the passionate vitality, the comprehensive intellect with which Fate had -endowed him, she nevertheless had made him her creature, her football, -to such a degree as to impel him along to this preordained end, -notwithstanding his most resolute efforts towards the opposite -direction? And why had this innocent, beautiful girl, formed so -perfectly for happiness, been selected as the victim? Or again, what -purpose was he destined to accomplish so lofty and so necessary that -such elements as these, the life, the love, the happiness of human souls -like his own, should be cast into his hands, to mould as he pleased? -Bah! that was the privilege of the gods: to what blasphemy were his -reckless thoughts leading him? -</p> -<p> -Fortunately, daylight peeping in through a chink of the shutter, and the -sun stepping forth and vanquishing all the powers of night, put an end -to his mad fancies. He was soon in the open air, and refreshed if not -restored. The sight of Alide, the feeling of her love, the cheerfulness -of everything around him, all reproved him, that in the midst of the -happiest days he could harbor such dismal night-birds in his bosom. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X -<br><br> -QUIET PLEASURES</h4> - -<p> -As the winter approached, Goethe was obliged to pass the greater part of -his time in the city, though, to say the truth, he was there as much -absorbed by the image of Alide as while he remained in her presence. -Thus he availed himself of every conceivable pretext to ride over to the -parsonage, to pass the long, pleasant evenings in that happily-united -circle, and return through the frosty red dawn to his occupations in -Strasburg. The joyous Christmas festival, celebrated with so much quaint -and picturesque ceremony in Germany, afforded him the opportunity for an -unusually prolonged visit. They enjoyed together all the healthy winter -pastimes, no less varied than the sports of milder seasons; the long, -rapid drives and rides over the frozen ground, or in sledges through the -snowy fields, the merry skating adventures upon the ponds in the -vicinity, and the cheerful evenings in the snug inclosure of the -library, where all the family gathered around the blazing logs of the -great open hearth and listened to him unweariedly while he read aloud or -recounted to them many a winter's tale. -</p> -<p> -The affair was allowed to take its course without the question being -directly asked as to what was to be the result. The parents thought -themselves compelled to let the young folks continue for awhile in a -wavering condition, with the hope that accidentally something might be -confirmed for life, better perhaps than could be produced by a -long-arranged plan. It was believed that perfect confidence could be -placed both in Alide's sentiments and in Goethe's rectitude, of which, -on account of his forbearance even from innocent caresses, a favorable -opinion had been entertained. The little birds in his heart began to -sing once more; he was able to give rhythmical expression to his -happiness, and with his letters he would frequently send such verses as -were the natural outpouring of his ethereal fancies and ardent longings. -Painted ribbons had just then come into fashion: he amused himself with -designing the most fantastic and poetical devices on a few silken strips -of blue and lilac and white. These he accompanied with the following -stanzas: -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Tiny leaflets, tiny flowers,</span><br> -<span class="i4">Lightly from thy fingers fling,</span><br> -<span class="i2">Waving on the airy ribbon,</span><br> -<span class="i4">Young and kindly god of Spring.</span><br> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Waft it on thy wings, O Zephyr,</span><br> -<span class="i4">Twine it round my sweetheart's gown.</span><br> -<span class="i2">Let her step before the mirror,</span><br> -<span class="i4">Laughing as she looketh down,</span><br> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Sees herself with roses girdled,</span><br> -<span class="i4">Fresh as any rose, the maid.</span><br> -<span class="i2">Grant me but one glance, my darling,</span><br> -<span class="i4">And I am enough repaid.</span><br> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Trust the love my heart that filleth,</span><br> -<span class="i4">Frankly give thy hand to me.</span><br> -<span class="i2">May the bond between us, dearest,</span><br> -<span class="i4">No slight band of roses be!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -As soon as the spring had fairly set in, he made preparations for a -prolonged stay at the parsonage. They now passed quietly and pleasantly -several weeks in each other's society. The habit of being together -became more and more confirmed, and nothing was known save that Goethe -belonged to this circle. They were left unobserved, as was generally the -custom there and then, and it depended only on themselves to go over the -country with a larger or smaller party and visit the friends in the -neighborhood. On both sides of the Rhine, in Hagenau, Fort Louis, -Philippsburg, and the Ortenau, Goethe found dispersed such persons as he -had seen united at Sesenheim, every one by himself a friendly, -hospitable host, throwing open kitchen and cellar just as willingly as -garden and vineyard. -</p> -<p> -The islands of the Rhine were often a goal to their water-expeditions. -There, without pity, they put the cool inhabitants of the clear river -into the kettle, or the spit, or into the boiling fat, and would -perhaps, more than was reasonable, have settled themselves in the snug -fishermen's huts, if the abominable Rhine-gnats had not, after some -time, driven them away. At this intolerable interruption of one of their -most charming parties of pleasure, when everything else was prosperous, -when the affection of the lovers seemed to increase with the good -success of the enterprise, and they had nevertheless come home too soon, -unsuitably and inopportunely, Goethe, actually in the presence of the -good pastor, broke out into blasphemous expressions, and assured him -that the gnats alone were sufficient to remove the thought that a good -and wise Deity had created the world. The pious old gentleman, by way of -reply, solemnly called him to order, and explained that these gnats and -other vermin had not arisen until after the fall of our first parents; -or that if there were any of them in Paradise, they had only pleasantly -hummed and had not stung. The impetuous youth was calmed at once, for an -angry man is easily appeased when he is forced to smile; but he -nevertheless asserted that there was no need, in such case, of an angel -with a burning sword to drive the guilty pair out of the garden, for -this must have been effected by means of great gnats on the Tigris and -the Euphrates. The simple old man laughed in his turn, for he could -understand a joke, or, at any rate, let one pass. -</p> -<p> -However, the enjoyment of the daytime and season in this noble country -was always serious and elevating to the heart. Goethe had only to resign -himself to the present, to enjoy the clearness of the pure sky, the -brilliancy of the rich earth, the mild evenings, the warm nights, by the -side of his beloved, or in her vicinity. For weeks together they were -favored with pure, ethereal mornings, when the sky displayed itself in -all its magnificence, having watered the earth with superfluous dew; -and, that this spectacle might not become too simple, clouds after -clouds piled themselves over the distant mountains, now in this spot, -now in that. They stood for days, nay, for weeks, without obscuring the -clear sky; and even the transient storms refreshed the country and gave -lustre to the green, which again glistened in the sunshine before it -could become dry. The double rainbow, the two-colored borders of a dark -gray and nearly black streak in the sky, were nobler, more highly -colored, more decided, but also more transient, than the artist had ever -before observed. -</p> -<p> -In the midst of these objects, Goethe's desire for poetizing again came -forward, and he composed for Alide several songs to well-known melodies, -which might have made a pretty little book. Many an hour did he pass by -her side at the harpsichord, hearing his own words caroled forth -melodiously from her beloved lips, while she, for her part, strove to -dedicate all the fire and poetry of her nature to the proper -interpretation of his inspired productions. -</p> -<p> -The resources of his wit, liveliness, and spirits were never at an end. -At the same time that he proved in countless ways his sincere and ardent -attachment to Alide, he succeeded in making himself the object of the -enthusiastic admiration and the warmest friendship of all her family and -circle. Even the wary mother consented to throw aside, as a weak -selfishness more akin to the pride of appropriation than to -disinterested affection, the misgivings and suspicions which she had at -first entertained. It was impossible to resist the frank generosity and -gentleness of his heart, combined as they were with so winning an -exterior, so profound an intelligence, and so brilliant and versatile a -genius. -</p> -<p> -That he might fulfil and even go beyond his promise to the pastor, of a -new and elaborate plan for the manse, he persuaded a young adept in -architecture to work instead of himself. Thus the ground-plan sketch and -section of the house were soon completed; court-yard and garden were not -forgotten; and a detailed but very moderate estimate was added. These -testimonials of his friendly endeavors obtained the kindest reception; -and now the good father, seeing that Goethe had the best will to serve -him, came forward with one wish more,—this was to see his pretty blue -garden-chair adorned with flowers and other ornaments. Goethe showed -himself accommodating, and prevailed upon Alide and Rahel, who were both -clever with the brush, to lend a hand in the pleasing task. Colors, -pencils, and other requisites were fetched from the tradesmen and -apothecaries of the nearest town. They worked upon it always in the open -air, and succeeded in decorating it with the most delicate devices. They -were standing one morning in the sunshine, admiring the last strokes of -their handiwork, when the gate was opened and a visitor advanced towards -the house. It was Max Waldstein, who was rarely able to leave his -studies, though the bond between himself and Rahel was now a solemnly -acknowledged betrothal. After the exchange of merry greetings, he was -called upon to admire the painted chair. -</p> -<p> -"It is quite a masterpiece, I declare," he cried; "and you must have -been pretty diligent, for I see that before any of it has had time to -dry the whole is finished. Did you begin this morning?" -</p> -<p> -"You unappreciative man!" exclaimed Rahel, indignantly. "It represents -the labor of a fortnight." -</p> -<p> -Goethe and Alide stood contemplating their work with an odd puzzled -expression. -</p> -<p> -"Why, then, look here," said practical Max, with a hearty laugh, as he -gently pressed the tip of his finger against the bright leaves and -withdrew it stained with the fresh green paint. "My intellectual young -friend Wolfgang has forgotten that he must varnish his colors to make -them fast. Or stay, I see what it is; you have bought the wrong sort of -varnish, and your chair will never dry! If the dear old pastor takes his -ease in this, he will exhibit a quaintly embroidered coat in his pulpit -on Sunday." -</p> -<p> -The artists looked at one another for a moment with crest-fallen -countenances, but finally Goethe broke into the jolliest laugh. "Why, -this is a veritable Wakefield mistake!" he cried. "Let us make the best -of it, dear friends: since the varnish cannot be changed now, let us -first try to dry our exquisite designs with fire, sun, rain, -wind,—every element under heaven. Then, if the worst comes, who knows -but we may have as merry a time rubbing off our colors as we have -already had in laying them on?" -</p> -<p> -But neither sunshine nor draught, neither fair nor wet weather, was of -any avail. Meantime, they were obliged to make use of an old -lumber-room, and nothing was left but to efface the ornaments with more -assiduity than they had painted them; and the unpleasantness was -increased by finding that, after the operation, even the original -ground-color could not be restored to its former brilliancy. Goethe did -not fail to take the lesson to heart, seeing that the artist may become -so absorbed in the ideal portion of his work as totally to ignore the -practical and useful foundations on which alone any substantial fabric -of beauty can be reared. The young philosopher was willing to bear -good-humoredly the twits and jests of the whole family, in consideration -of impressing upon his memory so important a maxim. -</p> -<p> -By such trifling disagreeable contingencies, however, which happened at -intervals, they were as little interrupted in their cheerful life as Dr. -Primrose and his amiable family, for many an unexpected pleasure befell -both themselves and their friends and neighbors. Weddings and -christenings, the erection of a building, an inheritance, a prize in the -lottery, were reciprocally announced and enjoyed. They shared all joy -together like a common property, and wished to heighten it by mind and -love. It was not the first nor the last time that Goethe found himself -in families and social circles at the very moment of their highest -bloom, and he contributed not a little to the lustre of such epochs. -</p> -<p> -It was the middle of May when he decided to return to Strasburg. He had -originally been sent there to gain a doctor's degree. On his departure -from Frankfort he had promised his father, and resolved within himself, -to write a dissertation; and he was now determined to set about this -task in earnest. He had indeed begun it before his first visit to the -parsonage; but his sudden passion and the poetical visions which it -inspired had driven from his head all practical matters. He himself -reckoned it as one of the irregularities of his life that he treated -this material business as a mere collateral affair. It is the fault of -those who can do many things, he said, that they trust everything to -themselves. He had pretty well acquired a survey of the science of -jurisprudence and all its frame-work; but he felt well enough that he -lacked an infinite deal to fill up the legal commonplaces which he had -proposed. The proper knowledge was wanting, and no inner tendency urged -him to such subjects. Indeed, quite another science, medicine, had -completely carried him away. -</p> -<p> -Before Goethe left the parsonage, he wrung from Alide and Rahel their -consent to make their long-talked-of visit to Strasburg. The Durocs were -related to some families in the city of good note and respectability and -comfortably off as to circumstances. Their cousins the Burkhardts were -often at Sesenheim. The older persons, the parents and aunts, being less -movable, heard so much of the life there, of the increasing charms of -the daughters, and even of Goethe's influence, that they first wished to -become acquainted with him; and after he had visited them they desired -to see all the family together, especially as they thought they owed the -Sesenheim folks a friendly reception in return. There was much -discussion on all sides: the mother could scarcely leave her household -duties; Rahel had a horror of the town, for which she was not fitted; -and Alide had no inclination for it. Thus the affair was put off until -it was brought to a decision by Goethe's enforced departure, and his -assertion that it would be impossible for him to come again into the -country; for all agreed that it would be better to see each other in the -city, and under some restraint, than not to see each other at all. -</p> -<p> -No formal betrothal in the presence of witnesses had taken place, and -yet the pastor gave Goethe his blessing, the mother kissed his brow at -parting, as though he were already their son; and it was considered -quite natural that he bade Alide farewell affectionately as a lover -should. He set off in high spirits, with a heart at rest in his bosom -and a mind already alert for the active duties that he must accomplish -before he could again indulge in holiday pleasures. -</p> -<p> -For Alide, as she turned back into her home, it was as if the light had -been blotted from the day, the spirit of life had departed from the -household. There was a heavier sadness in her heart than the brief term -of separation warranted, and she saw a dismal omen wherever her eyes -fell. But her sanguine temperament rebounded soon into its accustomed -cheerfulness and gayety. She succeeded in dispelling the cloud of -oppression that had overhung her, as a wrong to herself, a wrong to him. -She resolved in his absence to realize the lofty ideal of life which he -had inculcated; though, to say the truth, he had but put it into words -for her, for she had always animated the v hole family circle with the -natural liveliness of her admirably-tempered disposition. One could not -behold the glad serenity of her countenance, which seemed like a finer, -more ethereal grace superadded to her physical beauty, without fancying -her a creature born and nurtured for happiness. The rare capacity for -enjoyment was here in the highest degree developed. The subtle feminine -faculty was hers of resting content in the conscious possession of a -great joy. One could sooner imagine her gently withdrawn from existence -in the flush of youthful love and beauty, than estranged from the -brightness and hilarity which formed so essential a part of herself. -What harm could befall one so delicately constituted that the first -rough shock of distress or calamity would, in all probability, snap the -frail link between body and spirit and set free the immortal soul of -joy? -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI -<br><br> -IN THE SHADOW OF THE CATHEDRAL</h4> - -<p> -It was a foggy day in early June, with occasional heavy showers of rain, -when Madame Duroc and her daughters set out on their journey to -Strasburg. The pastor could not leave his parish-duties to accompany -them, so he drove with them over to the Drusenheim inn, and, after -seeing them comfortably seated in the diligence, with many an -affectionate embrace and injunction to take care of themselves and each -other, he bade them Godspeed. It seemed like a flat, level country -across which the diligence was painfully dragged by the steaming horses, -for the majestic shapes of the mountains were lost in the fog which -clung to their summits and sides. Rahel was nervous and excited at the -thought of all that would be expected of her in the city, and irritated, -moreover, by the unpleasantness and tedium of the drive through the -rain, when a little sunshine would have made it a charming excursion. -But Alide was satisfied with a glimpse now and then through the torn -cloud-curtain of meadow, hill, or leafy wood: she had learned every -curve and landmark of the road since Wolfgang had been going constantly -back and forth. There was even an agreeable mystery about the dense -vapor which encompassed them, and she felt as though she were traveling -to an enchanted city that would gradually shape itself out of the mist. -</p> -<p> -There were no passengers besides themselves in the coach, and their -mother entertained them with descriptions of the city as she remembered -it in her youth, before the Alsatian customs had given way to French -innovations. "Well, we are nearing it now," cried Alide. "See, there are -the gardens and the public walks. Ah! one can hardly hear one's own -voice over these rough stones." And she was forced to keep silence as -the lumbering vehicle rattled through the noisy lanes. They passed long -rows of irregular houses, squares, shops, markets, and churches, with at -intervals a glimpse, from the most unexpected corners, of the solemn -Minster, until finally the diligence was brought up in the court-yard of -a hotel. -</p> -<p> -"I do not see the Burkhardts anywhere," said Rahel, peering anxiously -from the window. -</p> -<p> -"I will take you to your cousins. Welcome, welcome to Strasburg, dear -friends!" cried a well-known voice at the door, and Goethe stood ready -to help them alight. -</p> -<p> -"I hope you have not been wearied, Frau Mamma, by your drive through -this dismal weather. Your girls bring the sunshine along with them. Ah, -if you knew how I have looked forward to this day!" And he gazed frankly -and ardently into Alide's eyes. -</p> -<p> -He carried their cloaks and valises across the hotel-yard as he led them -to the carriage which was awaiting them. Fräulein Burkhardt sprang from -within as she saw them approach; she welcomed her kinswomen gracefully -and affectionately, apologizing for the absence of her mother, whose -uncertain health had forbidden her venturing out in this wet weather. "I -am a thousand times obliged to you, Herr Goethe!" she cried, in her -shrill, thin voice, as the carriage rolled away. "We shall expect you -this evening." -</p> -<p> -Anna Burkhardt was a short, slim girl, whose narrow peaked face, with -its almost imperceptible lips, long, sharp nose, and prominent chin, -might have belonged to an old woman had it not been relieved by a fresh, -young complexion, more delicately colored than those of her cousins, -young, brown, inexpressive eyes, and a profusion of soft brown hair. Her -feet were small, but it was only owing to the skill of her bootmaker -that they appeared well shaped; and her thin, veiny hands had no beauty -when ungloved, save that of numerous sparkling rings. And yet few people -considered her either plain or unattractive: her manners were so suave, -so graceful, so exquisitely refined, that they formed a charm and a -beauty in themselves. Small in stature and insignificant in appearance -as she was, these gave her presence a peculiar dignity and importance. -Beneath this polished surface there was no generous warmth in the blood; -a naturally envious and even spiteful disposition was concealed under -the bland exterior of a precocious woman of the world, and an unerring -tact served for all her purposes as a substitute for culture and -intelligence. Perhaps it was owing to the fact that her mother had long -been an invalid and had intrusted to Anna the entire direction of the -household, that the girl had lost all the simplicity of her age; but, be -this as it might, her graceful, high-bred, worldly-wise personality found -more admirers than many a fresher and prettier girl. Poor, blundering -little Rahel, with her delicately-chiseled face and picturesque -coloring, found it difficult to shine beside this almost homely cousin -of hers; and yet if any one could have put her at her ease, by covering -her mistakes, ignoring her confusion, and endeavoring to make her appear -to advantage, it would have been Anna Burkhardt. But Rahel was beyond -the reach of help: she persisted in seeing only an additional -discouragement in the easy grace and tact of Anna's bearing, and in the -end her friendliest well-wishers found that the kindest mode of -treatment with her was to leave her alone and let her stumble along as -well as she was able. -</p> -<p> -The second daughter, Margaret, was strikingly contrasted with her -sister: she was entirely without Anna's winning courtesy, and indeed was -condemned by most of the matrons of her society as having "no manners." -She was scarcely prettier than Anna, and yet she was still more admired. -She had a charming little blonde head and a transparent, colorless -complexion; but there her beauties ended: her face was distinctly German -in its contour, her mouth large, her nose broad and upturned, and in -figure she was nearly as short as Anna, though fuller and better -proportioned. She was bright, amusing, and if not precisely witty, yet -an unabashed candor and naïveté lent her conversation a certain -piquancy of its own. At the first glance it would have been almost -impossible to believe that she was not a pretty girl: she looked as if -she had stepped out of a picture. Unlike Anna, she wore the simplest -things; there were no jewels upon her pretty, plump hands, and her -small, fine ears remained unpierced; and yet every detail of her -costume, more than coquettish, was actually artistic. With such natural -advantages as either Alide or Rahel possessed, how would these shrewd -city-girls, who knew how to turn everything to account, have -distinguished themselves in the circle to which they were born! And -nevertheless, beside them, their beautiful country cousins seemed almost -devoid of attractions. -</p> -<p> -Now was Goethe to find his fair friends whom he had been accustomed to -see only in a rural scene, and whose image had appeared to him hitherto -only before a background of waving boughs, flowing brooks, nodding -wild-flowers, and a horizon open for miles,—now was he to find them -for the first time in town rooms, which indeed were spacious in themselves, -but narrowed by furniture, carpets, curtains, glasses, and porcelain -figures. It had a singular effect upon him when he entered the Burkhardt -drawing-room early in the evening of the Durocs' arrival. Alide, whom -his eyes first sought and found, seemed unfamiliar, almost strange, in -this uncongenial atmosphere; her surroundings appeared to render -commonplace everything about her which had before struck him as -eminently becoming and poetical. Something incongruous offended his -artistic sense as he beheld this simply-clad country-girl, with her one -long golden braid falling down her back like the bourgeoises in the -street, and her high-heeled little boots and silver-clocked red -stockings plainly to be seen under her scant furbelow, while around her -were grouped the pale, delicate, elegant town-ladies in their flowing, -silky French gowns, harmonizing perfectly with the luxurious -appointments of the room itself. With his lively feeling for everything -present, he could not at once adapt himself to the contradiction of the -moment. All this, however, was but a flash through his mind when he -first caught sight of her; for when she rose with graceful, unconcealed -pleasure to receive him, as composedly as she would have done in her own -house, she was again his sweetheart and his pride. As he bent and kissed -her ungloved hand, she did not see, and she would not have understood, -the burning blush that tingled in his cheeks. "Dear friend," she -murmured, innocently, "what a joy it is to be once more together!" He -did not speak, but as he raised his head his loving eyes gave sincere -and eloquent response. -</p> -<p> -Several guests were expected besides himself, though he was the first to -arrive: they were to have a dance and a supper, and in the interval were -to entertain themselves, after the approved city fashion, with -conversation alone. Rural games and the myriad resources of country life -were of course quite out of the question, and Rahel for one knew not how -to fill up the gaps. The poor girl looked almost as she said she felt, -"like a maid-servant," with her short petticoat and her high, tight -waist, and by her awkward self-consciousness she rendered the disparity -between herself and her cousins still more conspicuous. As she gave her -hand to Goethe, she muttered, in an almost audible whisper, "It is like -a breath from the country to see your face here. Did I not tell you I -would never feel at home in Strasburg?" -</p> -<p> -When the visitors arrived, he had an opportunity to contrast the -appearance and behavior of the Duroc family with those of the society -which formed his own circle. The dignified and calmly noble demeanor of -the mother was perfectly adapted to the situation; she was in no wise -different from the other ladies. But Rahel was painfully ill at ease, -fancying that the eyes of the whole company were riveted upon her. When -she was spoken to, she either answered in monosyllables, or plunged into -random assertions on subjects of which she was totally ignorant. She -seemed to look to Goethe for support and assistance, and frequently -succeeded in embarrassing him also by her unconventional familiarity, -and her untimely allusions to incidents and jests that were not -understood outside of the Duroc parsonage. As she had formerly called to -him in the gardens or beckoned him aside in the fields if she had -anything particular to say to him, she did also the same here, when she -drew him into the recess of a window. She had the most unimportant things -to say to him,—nothing but what he knew already, that she wished -herself by the Rhine, over the Rhine, or even in Turkey. He did his best -to appease her, but without success. -</p> -<p> -Alide, on the contrary, was highly remarkable in this position. Properly -speaking, she also did not suit it; but it bore witness to her character -that, instead of finding herself adapted to this condition, she -unconsciously moulded the condition according to herself. She acted here -as she had acted with the society in the country: she knew how to -animate every moment, and, without creating any disturbance, she put all -in motion. She spoke of the wardrobe, the ornaments, the personal graces -of her cousins, without affectation, and considered and admired them -without envy; yet all the time she seemed perfectly content with her -individual customs and appearance. Goethe she treated the same as ever: -she seemed to give him no preference, but that of communicating her -desires and wishes to him rather than to another, and thus recognizing -him as her servant. -</p> -<p> -He had received permission from Frau Duroc to come early the next -morning to drive with herself and her daughters through the town and -take them over the Cathedral. A soft, clear sky and balmy air made a -paradise of the quaint old narrow streets, through which they rambled at -will, while Goethe's inexhaustible information and eloquence illustrated -every object of interest that they visited. He explained to them the -very curious effect given to the city just at this period by the -half-executed plans to beautify it. If a crooked side of a street was to -be straightened, one man would move forward to the appointed line, while -his neighbors remained in their old positions; and thus the oddest -projections and recesses were left. Rahel's awakened curiosity, -gratified at every turn, and yet continually and artfully excited by -Goethe with the promise of some fresh wonder, made her in some degree -forget the mortifications of the previous evening and her desire to be -once more at home. However, even here her restlessness was apparent, and -he was forced to exert his utmost ingenuity to amuse and entertain her. -</p> -<p> -Alide was quiet and subdued; she looked with wondering eyes at these -unfamiliar scenes, and tried to realize the various lives and interests -that encompassed her. By his side she was happy; in looking on his -beloved and beautiful face, all other thoughts and emotions were -absorbed in a flood of joy. But, as the hours slipped by, a sense of -unrest and vague trouble gained upon her. When he spoke, though she was -inspired and excited by his enthusiasms, she did not share them, often -she could scarcely understand them. Her nature did not expand, like his, -to embrace these various activities; it rather shrank within itself, -suffocated for want of stimulus amidst this seething world of life, as -the fish gasps for air in the midst of the rare element itself. She felt -cramped, choked, belittled, in these noisy thoroughfares, these crowded -lanes, beneath these towering edifices. -</p> -<p> -They alighted at the Cathedral, and entered the solemn sanctuary. The -sudden transition from the brightness of the noonday streets to this -tender twilight, the vast space of the inclosure, the exquisite beauty -of the slender reed-like pillars supporting the lofty vault above, the -awe-inspiring associations connected with the venerable Minster, caused -a deep religious adoration to take entire possession of the simple -girl's breast. She bowed her head and murmured to herself a child-like -prayer. He divined her emotions, though she could not guess his own, and -he refrained from interrupting her silent communion. Rahel was -chattering to the sacristan, who led her and Madame Duroc away from the -others, down the long aisle. -</p> -<p> -"Alide," said Goethe, in a low voice, as she raised her eyes towards -him, "I love you dearly when I see you thus, and yet you are not mine at -such a time: you seem rapt away from me in some beautiful vision where I -cannot follow. The gates of heaven are open for an instant, and then all -is dark to me, until you return to earth, bringing upon your brow a -reflection of the very glory of Paradise." -</p> -<p> -"Ah, Wolfgang!" she murmured, passionately, clasping her hands with the -gesture that was habitual to her when deeply moved, "why is all dark to -you? Why cannot you, who are so wise and so good, follow me into this -celestial world, where simplicity and faith are all that are required to -open wide the gates? Why shall not we twain, so closely united by -sympathy and love, draw from the same sublime source our courage and our -consolation? This is a subject that I have never before dared to -mention, and yet now I am bold to speak. What more fitting time, what -more sacred place, could we find than now and here to fall upon our -knees together and unite in adoration of that blessed Lamb of God who -died on Calvary for man?" -</p> -<p> -A hot flush mantled Goethe's face, and an expression of weariness almost -amounting to pain clouded his brow, as he listened to Alide's -enthusiasm. When she ceased, he took her clasped hands in both his own, -and answered, very gently, "My dear little girl, you must not ask me to -do this, you must not speak to me again in this way, for it can only -give pain to both, showing between us a gulf that cannot be bridged. I -love you; that must be enough. Upon these questions I have thought much, -I have suffered much, I have undergone much that you can never -understand; but now I am at peace. Do not be distressed for my sake; in -the eyes of the beneficent Disposer of events our souls are at one." -</p> -<p> -She answered him with a bewildered, frightened glance. The solemn -emphasis with which he had spoken forbade her continuing her impassioned -appeal. Her eyes filled with tears. "A gulf between us!" she repeated, -slowly. "Ah! that was my terror, and it has come. What will it grow to -be when we are man and wife?" -</p> -<p> -"Alide! Alide!" interposed the shrill voice of Rahel, who now hastened -to her sister's side, "come and see these beautiful holy relics the -sacristan has been showing us. And then we are going to mount to the -platform and see the view from the gallery." -</p> -<p> -How often these trivial intrusions occur at moments that seem like the -crises of our lives! and yet perhaps all had been said that either just -then was able or ready to speak, and it may have been well for both that -the peremptory demands of the hour forced them back to the actual world. -</p> -<p> -The panorama from the gallery above the Cathedral fully answered their -expectations. The romantic city, the level-stretching meadows, the -golden river with the noontide sunshine flashing upon it, the far-away -mountains, but, above all, a just perceptible glimpse of Sesenheim, set -Rahel fairly wild with delight, and struck them all with wondering -admiration. This was the crowning pleasure of the day, and, after so -much enjoyment and novelty, all were ready to return home and take some -rest before they met again at dinner. -</p> -<p> -Alide was unusually pale, and confessed to feeling somewhat wearied, but -the equable cheerfulness of her mind had already been restored to her by -the unwonted tenderness and caressing attentions with which Goethe -sought to make her forget their painful conversation in the Minster. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII -<br><br> -HAMLET</h4> - -<p> -"When we are man and wife." These half-dozen words kept ringing in -Goethe's ears and haunting persistently his brain. Each one seemed to -fall separately upon his sense with its own little shock of surprise, -though the idea they conveyed had been long, in a vague way, familiar to -his mind. It would be idle to assert that he had drifted blindly to this -end and that he now for the first time realized the significance and -result of his passion. But it is true that he had never before framed -this idea in words, nor imagined it as it now presented itself, an -incongruous and inevitable fact. He who felt conscious of a -superabundant vitality that was to expend itself in every phase of -experience, he who awoke daily to a keener perception of the -capabilities of a worthily-developed soul, he who fancied in his exalted -hours that he heard the voices of art, science, and nature invoking him, -their darling son,—in the recklessness of his extravagant youth he -had fettered himself for the remainder of his days, he had cramped his -wide-soaring flight to keep pace with the halting footsteps of a child; -at the threshold of a world that seemed all too narrow for his energies -and capacities he had bound himself to tread the accustomed, decorous -paths of a commonplace German citizen. For so long a time he had been in -the habit of seeing all things through the medium of his passion, that -it seemed as if a film or a glamour had been brushed suddenly from -before his eyesight. -</p> -<p> -And yet it was no witchcraft that had made him find her marvelously -pretty; for so she looked at this moment as she advanced towards him, -with her half-timid, half-confident air, and her free, graceful -carriage, as though she stepped on grass and heath. -</p> -<p> -"I have come to beg a favor of you, Wolfgang," said she; "but you must -promise beforehand to grant it." -</p> -<p> -"Naturally," answered he, forcing a smile, "that is the way you women -always beg: first must come the consent, and then you humbly present -your petition." Then, seeing her discomfited expression, he added, with -his usual spirit, "But you know very well that I am always at your -service, Alide. What is it now? I am ready for anything you propose." -</p> -<p> -"Ah, now I recognize you again," cried she. "The girls are expecting -some friends this evening, and they have sent me to beg you to entertain -the company with reading aloud as you used to do for us at the -parsonage." -</p> -<p> -"Is that all?" asked he, good-humoredly. "Of course I will do my best to -oblige you; only they must promise in their turn to be very attentive, -and not to grow impatient if I require two or three hours to myself." -</p> -<p> -She led him joyfully among the family group, where he was thanked on all -sides for his amiability, and Alide received her share of reflected -admiration and homage from those who perceived her influence over him. -As few of them were familiar with English literature, and he was in the -period of his first enthusiasm for Shakspeare, he selected "Hamlet" as -the subject of the evening's diversion. Never had Alide seen him more -inspired than he appeared this night. He delivered every part with -eloquent expression; but when he uttered the words of Hamlet himself he -seemed to be in living reality the beautiful melancholy poet-prince, -whose nobly-dowered, ill-balanced nature had been so "horribly shaken -with thoughts beyond the reaches of his soul." -</p> -<p> -The attention of the whole company was strained to its utmost; they were -enveloped by an atmosphere which they had never before breathed, and -transported to scenes hitherto unimagined. Their ears were spell-bound -by the thrilling modulations of that strangely sympathetic voice, which -alone filled the room, no less with its gravest tones of awe and grief -and its deepest murmurs of tenderness than with its irresistible force -in the "very torrent and tempest of passion." Alide sat directly -opposite Goethe: throughout every act she remained motionless, with her -eyes fixed upon his face, utterly unconscious of any other presence. And -yet, though her attitude remained unchanged, and her hands lay quietly -crossed in her lap, any one who had watched her attentively would have -seen that she was a prey to a succession of various and powerful -emotions. From time to time she sighed deeply, and a passing color -tinged her cheeks. -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">"For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor,</span><br> -<span class="i2">Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood;</span><br> -<span class="i2">A violet in the youth of primy nature,</span><br> -<span class="i2">Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,</span><br> -<span class="i2">The perfume and suppliance of a minute;</span><br> -<span class="i2">No more."</span><br> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">"No more but so?"</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -The blood fled from her eager face, her thin white fingers stirred -convulsively, as she heard the wise, kind, chilling answer of Laertes: -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i20">"Think it no more.</span><br> -<span class="i2">For nature, crescent, does not grow alone</span><br> -<span class="i2">In thews and bulk; but, as this temple waxes,</span><br> -<span class="i2">The inward service of the mind and soul</span><br> -<span class="i2">Grows wide withal."</span> -</div></div></div> - -<p> -A pathetic, bewildered expression clouded her countenance, until soon, -forgetful of herself and suddenly responsive to some lofty thought, some -heroic passion, the light and color rippled again over brow and cheek, -and a faint smile of irrepressible delight played upon her lips. When it -was over, all crowded around Goethe with enthusiastic applause, while -most of them added their thanks to Alide for having procured them so -memorable an entertainment. In her graceful manner she did not deny -herself the little pride of having shone through him. -</p> -<p> -There was much discussion at table about the play. This chance company -of moderately-cultivated and ordinarily intelligent people were perhaps -better able to form a correct and impartial judgment than if they had -been a society of critics and Shakspeare's compatriots. Each one of -Goethe's listeners heard the drama with a mind totally unbiased by any -preconceived idea, and it broke upon them with all the freshness and -beauty of a new work of art, the final result of the philosophy and -aspiration of centuries. An Englishman would have been highly amused at -the naïf admiration, the frank suggestions, the astonishment and -enthusiasm of this foreign circle. -</p> -<p> -"Do you not find rather inconsistent with Hamlet's tender and sensitive -temperament, Herr Goethe," suggested old Mr. Burkhardt, "the summary -manner in which he disposes of the body of Polonius?" -</p> -<p> -"Nature, nature, sir!" cried Goethe; "nothing so natural as Shakspeare's -men. Alas! how can our age form a judgment as to what is natural; we who -from youth upwards feel everything within us, and see everything in -others, laced up and decorated? I am often ashamed before Shakspeare, -for it happens that at the first glance I think to myself, I should have -done differently; but soon I perceive that I am a poor sinner, that -nature prophesies through Shakspeare, and that my men are soap-bubbles -blown from romantic fancies." -</p> -<p> -"I must confess," said Anna, "that I do not know much about the poetry; -but the interest of the story never flagged for a moment." -</p> -<p> -"And yet there seemed to be no action, properly so called," interposed a -young man near Goethe; "but only a development of the strange character -of Hamlet." -</p> -<p> -"You are right," answered Goethe; "Shakspeare's plots, as they are -called, are no plots. All his plays turn upon the hidden point which no -philosopher has yet seen and defined, in which the peculiarity of our -Ego, the pretended freedom of our will, clashes with the necessary -course of the whole." -</p> -<p> -"I think it is very unsatisfactory," said Rahel, in her blunt way, "not -to know so much at the end of a play as whether the hero was really in -love or not. Was Hamlet in love with Ophelia, Wolfgang?" -</p> -<p> -Alide started as though she herself had been the object of her sister's -inquiry. There was a general smile at the abruptness of the question, -and Goethe himself seemed rather disconcerted. -</p> -<p> -"My clever little Mademoiselle Rahel," said he, at last, "you have hit -upon the most vexed question concerning our melancholy hero. I believe -that scarcely any two readers of Shakspeare have precisely the same idea -in regard to Hamlet's feeling for Ophelia. In regard to hers for him, in -spite of the exquisite delicacy and modesty of her character, there can, -unfortunately for her, be no doubt." -</p> -<p> -Why did Alide feel as if a loved hand had struck her a sudden blow? "But -you do not answer me,—what is your opinion?" persisted Rahel. -</p> -<p> -"My opinion," answered he, after a brief pause, "is that he sincerely -loved her—before the opening of the play. She was the sweetheart -of his boyhood, the companion of his hours of recreation. But from the -moment that his capacities are disclosed to him by the revelation from -another world, he is bound by the highest duty of man—that which -he owes himself—to discard everything that can cramp or impede the -development of his own nature, and the fulfilment of the sacred office -to which he is called. The beauty and sweetness of Ophelia's character -cannot be exaggerated, yet she is no mate for Hamlet. He simply outgrows -her; or rather, in binding himself to her, he had underestimated his own -powers, and after these have been supernaturally revealed to him it is -impossible for him to return to his earlier position. His heart remains -true to her, but his whole intellectual nature has gone beyond her." -</p> -<p> -"On one point I cannot agree with you," answered the young man who had -previously spoken: "I think Ophelia <i>was</i> the proper wife for Hamlet. -Her character had all the grace, lightness, sentiment, and simplicity -which his lacked, and only she, to my thinking, could have saved him, if -he had but seen it in time, from the sombre madness and melancholy which -ultimately destroyed him." -</p> -<p> -Goethe remained silent for a moment, and then replied, thoughtfully, -"Perhaps it was Shakspeare's intention to suggest that. Such a result as -you imagine is, unfortunately, one of those events that we never foresee -betimes. Yes," he added, brightening again, "I return to what I said -first,—that is nature. It would not have been natural if Hamlet could -have studied the complications of his destiny with as clear a mind as -the poet. It is pleasant to think that Shakspeare was mistaken, that we -should have been nobler and truer than Hamlet, but I am afraid he shows -us only too plainly how each one of us would have treated that 'Rose of -May,' if we had been in Hamlet's position." -</p> -<p> -To all present, save one, this conversation appeared no more than the -most indifferent criticism of an abstract subject. Alide felt her heart -like lead in her bosom; her head burned and throbbed, her hands, by -turns icy cold and feverishly hot, trembled. She was possessed by the -illusion that it was she who was the subject of the cold comments or the -galling compassion of all around her. She breathed more freely when the -topic of Hamlet was finally dismissed, and when the company dispersed -she had gradually regained her outward composure. -</p> -<p> -Goethe was, as usual, the last to take his leave. While he was bidding -good-night to the other members of the family, Alide remained apart, -seated by the table where he had read. When he came towards her, the -devoted girl forgot her own trouble the moment her eyes fell upon his -altered face. The color had faded from his cheeks, his eyes were sunken -and haggard, and a strange contraction of the muscles of his forehead -gave him a distressed and wearied expression which she had never seen -before. -</p> -<p> -"My darling, what is the matter with you?" whispered she, in alarm, with -the tenderness of voice and manner which she was accustomed to receive -from him. "You have done too much this evening,—you are -over-fatigued,—you are ill. Wolfgang, what is it?" And she took his -large, shapely hand caressingly between her two little cold palms. -</p> -<p> -"Do not be foolish, sweetheart," said he, forcing a smile. "Have you -never seen me tired before? A night's sleep will bring me up again. -Meanwhile, do you sleep sweetly and dream of other things." He kissed -her hurriedly for good-night. "Till to-morrow!" he cried, in a cheerful -voice, and in a moment he was out of the house. He, on his part, had not -remarked the icy chill of those affectionate hands that pressed his own, -the unnatural brilliancy of the dilated eyes, the crimson spot of fever -that glowed on either cheek, and the burning heat of the smooth white -forehead which his lips had lightly touched. It was Madame Duroc who -perceived, with a terrible sensation of oppression and anxiety, the -unusual appearance of her child, and yet dared not express her sympathy -by the slightest emphasis of affection. She felt that whatever trouble -Alide was enduring now must be borne alone, and if it were not to pass -away its solace must be left to a later period. All night the pious -mother was awake, constantly invoking the blessing of Heaven upon the -dear young head. She knew that the child of her heart, ill, helpless, -and alone, was for the first time learning to suffer. -</p> -<p> -When Goethe hurried from the Burkhardts' home, there was a tumult in his -brain, a heat and fever in his blood, a lassitude in his limbs, which he -did not remember to have experienced before. A night's sleep would -restore him, he had assured Alide; but when he issued into the soft -night-air he said to himself that this was better than to toss -uncomfortably upon his pillow, for in his nervously-excited condition -sleep was an impossibility. It was past midnight, and the streets were -silent and black with shadows, relieved only by the white splendor of -the moon that floated high above the house-tops. He walked at a rapid -pace, but not in the direction of his lodging. Contrary to his usual -habit, he took no note of the beauty of the night, and the quiet, -restful appearance of the sleeping town. Overcome by poignant regrets, -gloomy self-reproaches, and morose imaginings of the future, he yielded -to the influence of a morbid despair. He saw himself faithless to the -highest responsibilities of his life. On one side his fate called out, -summoning him to an austere and lofty career, to the noblest -achievements and the purest rewards; on the other, a clinging, -affectionate child held him to the earth, fettered, cramped, and bound -with chains of flowers. What was he doing with his youth? To whom was he -about to sacrifice the convictions, the activity, of his richest and -strongest years of manhood? And yet, whenever the image of that -beautiful young face, ennobled as it was by a pure and deep passion, -formed itself upon his brain, he felt his heart beat faster and the old -yearning and unrest fill his bosom. At that moment all was dark within -him,—whether he truly loved, or whether he yielded to a weak, -ephemeral fancy; whether he himself was the Goethe of his imagination, -or merely an ordinary foolish and capricious young man, stayed entirely -by insane ambition and fantastic illusions. He raised his head, and, -with a passionate movement, clasped his hands, extended them wide, and -let them drop by his sides, in a mute appeal to the mysterious forces of -night. He had unconsciously walked towards the river, and the unexpected -sight of the smooth black stream with its glittering reflections, and of -the immense reach of star-sprinkled sky above, holding in its pale -depths the bright, benign face of the moon, awakened him at once from -the sombre unreality of his reverie to the beautiful actual world. The -exquisite aspect of the June night seemed almost to give a direct answer -to the cry of his agitated soul. Sweet and holy influences appeared to -descend from those remote heavens upon his head, which he bared as if in -prayer. Like the touch of his mother's hand the fitful yet indescribably -gentle whiffs of breeze passed caressingly over his brow. He did not try -to account for the sudden serenity which filled his breast after its -recent turmoil and fever. This was true rest, he said to himself, this -conscious repose, so different from the brutish oblivion of sleep. And -yet, as the first streaks of dawn broke over the river, he was aware of -an aching weariness in his limbs and a chill throughout his frame. He -felt as one who has been scourged; his eyes burned, his hands trembled. -With a painful effort he hurried to his lodging, flung himself, sick and -shivering, upon his bed, and was immediately possessed by the profound -sleep of utter exhaustion. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII -<br><br> -THE CLOUDS GATHER</h4> - -<p> -Alide awoke early, after an unrefreshing night disturbed by exaggerated -dreams. At the hour that Goethe returned to his room, she rose and -watched from her window the break of day. Even over the city streets the -slow, majestic approach of morning brought its accustomed encouragement -to her soul. Distressing as her sleep had seemed, it had nevertheless -sufficed to restore the even flow of her blood. She recalled with -astonishment her gloomy presentiments of the preceding evening, and the -absurd fancy of identifying herself with Ophelia. "'Till to-morrow!' -were his last cheerful words," she thought; "and to-morrow has already -come." And a smile of tranquil joy broke upon her face as she raised her -eyes and beheld the subdued light and delicate colors of the morning -sky. A little breeze from over the river blew softly on her cheeks. At -this moment of sacred expectancy just preceding the splendor of a new -day, her heart was filled with pious gratitude and adoration. -</p> -<p> -She was startled from her reverie by the voice of her sister, who turned -restlessly in the bed. "Alide, what are you doing so early by the open -window?" -</p> -<p> -"I am at my matins," answered Alide. "Are you sleepy, Rahel?" she asked, -advancing towards the bed. "Or do you care to get up with me and look at -this beautiful sunrise?" -</p> -<p> -"No, I am not sleepy," replied Rahel, rising, with flushed cheeks and -bright wide eyes. "I have been watching you a long time. You seemed so -happy, I wondered what you could be thinking about. I had something to -tell you, but I would not interrupt you. Were you really at your -prayers?—you were not on your knees." -</p> -<p> -"I scarcely know myself, sister," answered Alide, with a laugh and a -slight blush. "I was very peaceful and happy just then, and yet I could -hardly tell you what I was thinking about. Come, put a shawl about your -shoulders, and you can tell me in the window all you have to say." -</p> -<p> -"Well, I am tired enough of these hot pillows," said Rahel, who had -slept like a tired child all night. And, drawing about her her little, -loose white gown, she followed her sister to the window. -</p> -<p> -The city was still wrapped in a tender shadow, and the sky full of -color, but without a gleam of radiance. In a moment, and as if -unexpectedly, the clear sunbeams darted above the horizon, glistening -over roofs and steeples, and as suddenly sprang into relief against the -blue background the illuminated spire of Strasburg Cathedral. Rahel gave -a little sigh. The sunlight fell into the room and dazzled their eyes. -She closed the jalousies with an impatient movement, and shut out the -bright picture of morning. "Yes, it is beautiful," said she; "but it -only makes me think the more of morning over the meadows and mountains -at home. Oh, Alide, I am so unhappy here!" And, covering her face with -her hands, she burst into tears. -</p> -<p> -Alide looked at her in surprise, and tried to calm her. "Yes," continued -Rahel, when she had recovered sufficient composure to speak; "I have -fought against it long enough. I can endure it no longer. Everything I -do turns out to be a blunder. I sit among these fine ladies dumb and -awkward as a peasant. I do not dress nor talk like them, nor belong to -their world. When I am with Anna, I ask myself a hundred times a day -what it is that puts her above me, that makes me feel like an ignorant -child in her presence. She is no older than I am, she is not pretty, she -is not clever, and I do not think she is kind. She is so sweet and -gracious to every one's face, and yet she is spiteful enough behind -their back sometimes. No, I could never be like her. And yet Gretchen is -worse, for she mortifies me, and laughs at my mistakes, and makes them -seem so droll to everybody else. Oh, Alide, are you not ready to go -home?" -</p> -<p> -"Surely our going home does not depend upon me," said Alide. -"I never suspected you were so unhappy. I will go whenever you -please,—to-morrow, or Thursday. What day shall we say?" -</p> -<p> -"Do you really promise to go so soon?" cried Rahel, eagerly. "Of course -it depends upon you. Mamma told me in advance that she wished to wait, -for it could not be long, until you and Wolfgang had made some definite -arrangement, had settled the day of your marriage at least. What will -she say when she knows I have forced you home so soon? Am I not selfish -and vain and—" -</p> -<p> -"Hush, Rahel," interposed Alide, gently; "you are nothing of the kind. -You and mamma and all the rest are only too good to me. But no one need -think that it is you who persuade me to leave: I am quite ready myself -to go." -</p> -<p> -"But is it indeed too soon?" asked Rahel, remorsefully. "Have you -decided upon anything? When shall you be married, Alide?" -</p> -<p> -"Oh, as to that, never mind," said Alide, with confusion. "We can -arrange that at the parsonage as well as we could here, where there is -always a certain constraint. But you, at any rate, need not suffer any -longer." -</p> -<p> -Rahel kissed her sister impetuously, and cried, "Dear little Baby, you -have grown older and wiser than I." And then, with a free heart once -more, she confided to Alide her hopes and plans for her own wedding, -which was to take place early in the following autumn. -</p> -<p> -She was quite like the Rahel of Sesenheim again, cheerful, merry, and -talkative, when she appeared among the Burkhardt family. But Alide was -thoughtful and abstracted: her sister's confession as to the real object -of their visit awoke her somewhat roughly to a sense of the actual -demands of her position. She could not but acknowledge to herself that -she was no nearer a definite agreement with Goethe, concerning their -mutual prospects, than the day she had first seen him; and in the eyes -of the world they were betrothed. But nothing was to be gained by -remaining in Strasburg; she felt a sincere compassion for her sister's -vexations and homesickness, and was glad for her sake to leave. She did -not dare to ask whether she herself were happy here; she would not have -confessed in her inmost thoughts that the presence of Goethe was not -all-sufficing for her; but she was conscious of an unrest and oppression -ever since she had been in the city, which she attributed to the novelty -and uncongeniality of town-life. -</p> -<p> -She was more impatient than usual for the hour of Goethe's accustomed -visit. Punctually at one o'clock he was in the habit of presenting -himself daily at the Burkhardts' house, and they generally passed the -remainder of the day together. Perhaps when she told him so unexpectedly -that she must leave Strasburg, he would come to some decision. -</p> -<p> -The morning passed slowly and quietly. At noon some visitors were -announced, and the Duroc girls were called to receive them with their -cousins. Alide's picturesque white skirt and, bodice displayed to -perfection the grace and symmetry of her form; a silver comb fastened -above her stately little head the loose twists of her auburn braids. Her -face was transparently pale, and her eyes had the languid, drooping -expression produced by a night of insufficient sleep. The strangers were -charmed with her, and when the clock struck one they showed no intention -of taking their leave. Her answers became more and more brief and -abstracted; her eyes wandered continually to the door, which did not -open; she grew restless and alarmed. -</p> -<p> -"Will you not, my dear?" were the words, uttered in a coaxing tone, -that startled her from her reverie, and she found that she was expected -to sing. -</p> -<p> -"One of the genuine Volkslieder, cousin," said Anna. -</p> -<p> -It was such a relief to Alide to know what they were talking about, that -she rose willingly to go to the harpsichord. Who does not know the -rapidly-succeeding emotions of vexation, uneasiness, anxiety, and fear -in waiting beyond the appointed time for one who is dear to us? She had -sufficient control over her voice to intone some of her Alsatian -ballads; the words came mechanically to her lips, but all the time she -was repeating to herself, "Why has he not let me know? If anything -should happen to him! My darling, how harassed he looked last evening!" -Before she had finished, the clock struck two; her heart beat high and -loud in her breast. They pressed her for more, but she answered, in her -simple, child-like way, "Please forgive me; I cannot sing any more just -now." -</p> -<p> -"We are afraid it affects her chest, sometimes," said her mother; "she -is so easily tired." -</p> -<p> -At last, to Alide's indescribable relief, the visit was brought to an -end. It was nearly three o'clock: the one thought uppermost in her mind, -that Wolfgang was ill, gained strength until it became a terrible -certainty. All day her suspense was prolonged, and she was obliged to -take part in the accustomed occupations and conversations of the -household, and, moreover, to keep constantly on her guard, lest her -agitation should be remarked. How could she wait until to-morrow? how -could she lie motionless by her sister's side through the interminable -hours of the night, and endure this intolerable distress and -uncertainty? -</p> -<p> -Early in the evening a note was handed to her: she hurried to her room, -dreading lest she should lose control over herself by a confirmation of -her fears or a too sudden reaction of joy. With trembling fingers she -broke the seal, and read: -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<blockquote><p> -"MY DARLING,—I cannot be with you till to-morrow. I laughed at your -fears last evening, but nevertheless my little girl was right, as she -always is. This morning I found myself suffering, and only a day in the -open air and a wild ride on horseback have made me myself again. I -looked forward to seeing you this evening, but an old fellow-student of -Leipsic, who is passing through Strasburg to-day, has unexpectedly -turned up at my lodgings, and, of course, is with me for the night I -must find patience till to-morrow. Shall we not meet to-night in our -dreams? I believe it, for my heart is always with you. Sleep well, and -believe in the love of your own -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">"Goethe."</p> -</blockquote> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -The reaction came, but it was not one of joy. She let the note slip from -her fingers, and, covering her face with her hands, burst into tears. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV -<br><br> -A STRANGE INTERVIEW</h4> - -<p> -Early on the following morning Alide left the house alone. Her grave, -preoccupied air, her firm, self-confident carriage, no less than her -bourgeois attire, were sufficient protection for her in the city -streets. She directed her steps towards the Cathedral, walking as -securely and fearlessly as though she were in the meadows at home. She -was sick at heart, faint and terrified at the shadow which she foresaw -about to fall upon her life, and she had need of solemn meditation and -prayer. It was not the hour of service, but the organ was playing, and -there were a few worshipers scattered among the aisles. Not far from the -entrance knelt a woman in mourning, her face buried in her hands, and -her form occasionally convulsed by stifled sobs. Alide could not fail to -see her, and a sharp pang of pity smote her heart; but the stranger's -grief was sacred, and at that moment beyond her compassion, and, -averting her eyes, she glanced up at the altar, bowed her head meekly, -folded her hands upon her breast, and sank down upon her knees. -</p> -<p> -What a throng of powerful emotions filled her heart to bursting and sent -the hot tears streaming from her eyes! Could that terrible nightmare be -the end of her beautiful dream? With all her might she strove to put the -evil thought away from her; she denied it utterly, she tried to stifle -it by directing her mind to the contemplation of things holy and -eternal. This was the source whence she had never yet failed to draw -serenity and courage, and to-day again she succeeded insomuch that when -she rose to leave the Minster she was once more at peace. As she walked -slowly down the long aisle, she was startled by seeing that the mourner -whom she had remarked on entering had fallen from her kneeling posture -and was lying motionless with her face downward. She advanced towards -her and touched her gently on the shoulder. The woman did not move. -"Mein Gott! if she be dead!" thought Alide, in affright, and looked -around for help; but there was nobody near, and she did not dare to -profane the sacred quiet of the place by a cry or a call. She stooped -over the prostrate figure, disencumbered the head from the heavy folds -of the veil, and with an effort upraised the face. It was that of a -woman scarcely older than herself, of a strange, severe beauty, and its -deathly pallor was heightened by the intense blackness of the thick -masses of hair that waved over the forehead. -</p> -<p> -"Poor thing! but it is only a faint," said Alide to herself, as she -perceived the slight rise and fall of the woman's chest; and, gently -leaning the passive form against a column, she hastened away to beg the -assistance of the sacristan. With his aid she gradually succeeded in -restoring life to the sick woman, who stirred, opened her closely-locked -lips, and raised her large, dark eyes with a bewildered expression. -Alide spoke to her, and offered her some water to drink. -</p> -<p> -"You have not been well, my friend," said she: "are you strong enough -now to let us help you out of the church, where you can breathe some -fresh air?" -</p> -<p> -The woman looked at her with a grateful expression, but did not answer; -she drank the water which Alide held out to her, and then said, in a low -voice, as if she did not expect to be understood, "Je ne comprends pas," -and made an effort to rise to her feet. -</p> -<p> -"Ah, she is a foreigner," grumbled the sacristan. "What is to be done, -Fräulein?" -</p> -<p> -"That is nothing; I will make her understand," replied Alide; and she -repeated in French what she had already said. She herself, as her name -betokened, was of French descent, and the pastor had instructed his -children in that language, which they spoke with rare sweetness and -precision. -</p> -<p> -The stranger looked at her in surprise, and a smile of satisfaction lit -up her austere features. "Ah, how good it is to hear one's own language -like that!" said she. "You are an angel, mademoiselle. Yes, I am quite -strong enough, if this good man will lend me his arm to go into the air. -That is what I need. This hot building stifled me; I thought the walls -were closing in upon me, I felt myself fall, and then—nothing! Did I -cry out? where did you come from? how did you find me?" -</p> -<p> -She had a wild, almost fierce look in her large eyes, and her voice -sounded rather too loud to Alide for the sacred edifice. -</p> -<p> -"Never mind that now, my friend," answered she: "I will tell you all -when we get outside. Only now try to walk a step." -</p> -<p> -They helped her to her feet, and, leaning heavily on the sacristan's -arm, she succeeded in reaching the vestry-room. In spite of her -weakness, she absolutely refused to take Alide's hand to enable her to -walk, but nevertheless begged her to sit with her a little while until -she felt able to go into the street again. The window was open, and the -fresh air soon revived her. She sat without speaking, drinking in the -soft summer breeze, with her eyes fixed upon the sky. Great tears -quivered upon her lashes, but did not fall. Alide had never seen -anything more beautiful and more melancholy than this strange face. The -features were regular in outline, and severe to sternness, and yet the -expression was that of a passionate nature, owing to the sensuous effect -of heavy eyebrows that met over the nose, the peculiar glance of the -eyes, and the bold appearance given to the whole face by the arrangement -of the hair, which was parted at the side, overshadowing with its -luxuriance the square forehead. If she had not been so sad, Alide would -almost have experienced a sensation of fear. As it was, her tender heart -was overflowing with a vast pity; she wondered what the stranger's -trouble was, and if it could not be alleviated. But no,—those black -mourning robes proved too plainly a trouble that could know no -compensation on earth. Thank God, she had been spared an affliction like -that! If Wolfgang had died,—no, she could not endure the thought. And -to think that this morning she had been miserable, because for a single -day he had not cherished her with his wonted devotion! Now she was -brought in the presence of grief, and what a mockery it made of her -imaginary trouble! Who could be gentle enough to one who had suffered as -this poor girl? Actuated by a sudden strong impulse of sympathy and -tenderness, Alide stood up by the stranger's side, and, bending over -her, kissed her forehead. The woman started and looked at her in -amazement; the tears that had stood in her eyes gathered and streamed -down her pale cheeks. -</p> -<p> -"You are an angel of heaven!" she cried. "I am not worthy to touch your -pure, kind hand, and you do not hesitate to kiss my brow. But do not be -afraid," she added, drawing back; "I will not harm you, I will not come -near you; but the good God will let me breathe for a little while the -atmosphere of one so pure and so gentle, and only He knows how I have -suffered." And, once more averting her head, she leaned against the -window and looked up at the sky. -</p> -<p> -Alide was indeed a little frightened, but her compassion overpowered all -other feelings, and, advancing again, she said, "Are you not my sister -in Christ? You cannot harm me, my poor girl, but I may help you. You -have been ill just now, and you must not excite yourself like this. Sit -down by my side, and perhaps you will grow calmer." -</p> -<p> -The woman dropped upon her knees before Alide, buried her head in the -young girl's lap, and sobbed aloud. For a long time Alide talked to her -as wisely as she knew, about the blessed consolations of a faith that -promised everlasting mercy to the repentant sinner. It was not her -words, which were the ordinary commonplaces of every priest and parson, -but it was the earnest conviction, the simple piety, and, more than all, -the unexampled kindness and sympathy, that softened and quieted the -poor, fallen creature at her feet. She listened as if in a dream of -peace to this gentle young girl, who seemed to her a living saint; but -she did not confess herself: she felt that it would have been a wrong to -that innocent, candid soul. At last they separated; the stranger -insisted that she was quite able to find her way home alone, and she -would not hear of Alide's taking a step with her in the street. Again -and again she thanked her for her angelic kindness, and kissed -reverently and humbly the hand which Alide offered her at parting. "May -I ask you one thing more, mademoiselle?" she said, timidly, after taking -a last, long look at the noble, delicate face before her. "Your name?" -</p> -<p> -"Alide Duroc. And yours, that I may pray for you?" -</p> -<p> -"Lucinda." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV -<br><br> -DRIFTING APART</h4> - -<p> -In returning to the Burkhardts' house, Alide felt herself under the -influence of a powerful excitement. Her interview with Lucinda had -entirely overshadowed her personal trouble, and had revealed to her an -abyss of suffering and sin hitherto inconceivable to her joyous, -innocent temperament. After a glimpse of such desolation and -self-abasement, the recollection of her own happy home, and of the love -which encompassed and cherished her, was refreshing as the clear air and -sunlight to one who issues from a dungeon. She reproached herself with -humility for her recent bitter thoughts; in everything Wolfgang had done -she saw now an additional tenderness and consideration. He had not -written to her until he could tell her he was well, and then it was only -to speak lightly of past suffering; and, instead of understanding and -rejoicing, what unjust suspicions had she harbored against him! She -longed to see him, to confess her wrong, and ask forgiveness, and to -hear him talk once more, in his own wise, generous way, of the duties -and compensations of life, in order to reconcile her to her new -knowledge of evil. Her whole heart was softened and agitated, and needed -to expand in affection and to be quieted by the voice of love. -</p> -<p> -When she reached the house, Goethe had already arrived. He had come -earlier than usual, and was seated in the drawing-room with Madame -Burkhardt and her daughter. Alide's accustomed delight at his presence -was mingled with disappointment, for she must meet him with forced -composure, and continue to repress the emotions which swelled her heart. -She found him in high spirits, recounting to her aunt and cousin some -droll reminiscences of his student-life at Leipsic, recalled, no doubt, -by the visit he had received the previous evening. The old lady and Anna -had apparently been enjoying the heartiest laughter, and he himself was -beyond measure gay and animated. -</p> -<p> -"Good-morning, dear friend," he cried, as he rose to greet Alide, taking -one of her hands between his own and kissing it lightly. "You ran away -from us early; but you have come in time to join us in the pleasantest -conversation." -</p> -<p> -His merry tone jarred harshly upon Alide's mood, but, forcing herself to -respond, she answered, with her natural cheerfulness, "I am glad I am -not too late. I have stayed longer than I intended at the Cathedral. But -tell me first, Wolfgang, are you well to-day?" -</p> -<p> -"Do I look like an invalid?" said he, turning towards her his laughing -face flushed with brilliant color. "I think it must have been a -disagreeable dream that I was ill for a half-dozen hours or so," he -added, hurriedly; "I cannot believe it to-day. I have been telling -Madame Burkhardt and Fraulein Anna of my visitor last evening,—an old -fellow-student, Alide,—and it has led me back into I know not what -foolish recollections of boyhood." -</p> -<p> -"Hear the lad! how he talks of his boyhood, as if he were a -grandfather!" cried Madame Burkhardt; "and I do not believe it is five -years back." -</p> -<p> -"You are not far wrong," he replied, with a laugh: "my Leipsic days were -just six years ago. But I do not parcel out my life in years; I know -that I have lived fast and developed quickly, and I know, too, how young -I am by the great world-clock, and how much I have to do. No, Madame -Burkhardt," he continued, with his former lightness, "indulgent as you -are, you would not have tolerated the volatile, overbearing, untamed -boor that I was then." And he began again to narrate an incident of that -period. He was in his liveliest vein to-day, affording so much -entertainment to his listeners that Alide saw little chance of a quiet -interview with him. And indeed she almost ceased to desire it as the -hour passed by: she could not have uttered to him in his present mood -the grave words that had been upon her lips. At last, however, Madame -Burkhardt withdrew, after making him promise to dine with them, that she -might see him again; and shortly after, Anna discreetly followed her. -</p> -<p> -"You little runaway!" cried he, as soon as he found himself alone with -Alide. "You were cruel enough to punish me for my misfortune -yesterday,—was I not punished enough?" -</p> -<p> -She looked at him in mute reproach. How was it possible to imagine an -act of coquetry between herself and him? He saw that he had wounded her, -and tried to repair his mistake. -</p> -<p> -"If I had but known in time that you cared to go so early to the -Cathedral, I should have loved to ramble over it again with you. I -believe, Alide, if you were to dwell any length of time in Strasburg, -the constant presence of that noble monument would gradually bring you -into sympathy with the infinite world that opens to the artist's mind. -Do you know that some of the grandest of those colossal statues set in -the walls are the work of a woman,—Sabina von Steinbach, the daughter -of Erwin?" -</p> -<p> -What was the matter with him to-day? He spoke with evident constraint, -and every word he said seemed to force Alide and himself further apart. -</p> -<p> -"Yes?" answered she, absently. "I did not go there this morning to -admire the architecture. And I am not going to dwell any length of time -in Strasburg, either," she continued, with a quiet smile. "Do you know -that we are going home to-morrow?" -</p> -<p> -"To-morrow!" cried Goethe, springing from his seat. "But you have only -just arrived. And our walks, our river-excursions, our drives, all the -pleasure that we promised ourselves together! What is the meaning of -this sudden determination?" -</p> -<p> -She explained to him in a few words the discomfort and humiliation of -her sister's position. -</p> -<p> -"Was that all?" he thought, with a sigh of relief, and he looked quickly -and searchingly into Alide's ingenuous face. "I cannot dispute it," -answered he: "poor Rahel has been miserably restless and unhappy here; -the situation was a novel one for her, and its exactions have chafed -terribly her wild spirit. But it is the more admirable how you, Alide, -have fitted yourself to each new condition; everywhere you seem free as -a bird in the branches." -</p> -<p> -"Wherever you are, Wolfgang, I am content," she replied, simply. -</p> -<p> -For a moment he did not speak; then, abruptly looking her full in the -face, he pressed her hand warmly. -</p> -<p> -"You are a good girl, Alide," he said, and began to pace the room, with -his eyes cast to the ground. -</p> -<p> -Alide felt emboldened by his evident agitation to put forward the -subject nearest her heart. -</p> -<p> -"And why, Wolfgang," she began, timidly, "should I remain longer in the -city? If mamma and Rahel are happier at home, why should my pleasure -detain them? Whither is our present life leading,—and for what are we -waiting?" She paused, with her heart in her throat. -</p> -<p> -"For what are we waiting, indeed?" repeated he, as if to himself, -passing his hand over his brow and never stopping in his walk. "My youth -is slipping away from me,—the precious years of activity that I -had resolved to dedicate to high and serious thought and indefatigable -labor. What wild yet glorious visions, what earnest purposes, did not -Breitkopf recall to me last night! And is life to charm me also from my -convictions, like so many other useless, indolent creatures who loiter -by the way and are swept into annihilation by the storm and stress of -time? How much longer am I to remain a novice and a pupil?—to -squander the priceless gifts of manhood in prattling, and trifling, and -dilatory self-indulgence? Everything recalls me to myself: last night it -was Breitkopf who startled me by asking what I had done, and what I was -doing. I remained dumb and ashamed. A stroke on a canvas, the jingle of -a sonnet, a fantastic fairy-tale, are those the work of a man? And at -such a moment, too,—when old faiths are passing away, old -superstitions are discarded, old prejudices are abandoned, and all -Germany in an attitude of expectation awaits the voice that will animate -and inspire the souls of her youth." -</p> -<p> -He paused, and stood before Alide. How completely they failed to -understand each other! Was that the response he should have given to her -affectionate appeal? and what words had she to offer the need of his -spirit? How was she fitted to enter with sympathy and intelligence into -the world of his imagination? Her heart was like a stone within her; she -saw him gradually passing beyond her narrow sphere into a realm where -she could neither meet nor follow him. -</p> -<p> -He forced himself back from his wild reverie, and quieted himself by -talking of her, questioning her again about her departure, and -interesting himself in all that concerned her. He wished to accompany -her the following day to Drusenheim, where the pastor was to meet his -family, but Alide said she would prefer to bid him farewell here, rather -than take the chance of parting before strangers at the inn; and as the -driver of the diligence had been an old servant of her father's, and all -the country-folk knew the Durocs, she had not the slightest fear of -returning as she had come. Throughout the remainder of the day they were -together, but, whether in the midst of the family group or apart from -all, their conversation kept a uniform tone: they did not speak from -heart to heart again. -</p> -<p> -Who has not seen a summer cloud that hangs apparently motionless become, -through imperceptible changes, even while the eye is fastened upon it, -something other than it was, and slowly dissolve and vanish in the -bright ether? -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI -<br><br> -PARTING</h4> - -<p> -Both Goethe and Alide looked forward with dread to the separation on the -morrow; but when it came it was no tragic farewell. At the last moment -they found themselves in the midst of the family, where cheerful and -affectionate embraces were exchanged, as befitted friends who were -separating for a brief term and who would still be but a short distance -apart. There was even much merriment among them in the confusion of -good-byes. They were all to meet in the autumn at latest for Rahel's -wedding, and in the meantime frequent visits to the parsonage were -promised by the younger Burkhardts. As for Goethe, he said he would be -with them, in a week, if he could snatch a day; and Rahel, who was in -high spirits, refused to bid him good-by, in order to insure his coming. -</p> -<p> -Alide was calm and quiet, and preserved her ordinary appearance and -demeanor. All the cheerfulness around her did not deceive her unerring -intuitions. "This is the end," she kept repeating mechanically to -herself. She was in one of those moods when the necessity of a supreme -effort strings the nerves to their utmost tension. She could have -laughed as naturally as the rest; she could utter careless words to her -kinsfolk, yes, to Wolfgang himself; she could think with a curious -accuracy of every detail of their departure and journey; she observed -with more than her usual keenness everything around her, whether -ludicrous or serious. And all the time there was a leaden weight upon -her brain, and she felt as if her heart and soul had been eaten out of -her. -</p> -<p> -The first sensation which Goethe experienced when the diligence rolled -away was one of relief, as if of restored freedom; but the next moment -he was horrified at his own cowardice. The veil was torn from before -him, and he saw clearly the position into which he had drifted. It was -not the first time that his susceptible, undisciplined nature had led -him into a hasty attachment which could occasion only discord and -misery. To his shame he confessed it, but in this case he had bound -himself to one so pure and so lovely that to free himself would be -dishonor. And yet this affectionate child did not respond in any degree -to the demands of his insatiable spirit: his fancy and his sense had -been attracted, but the depths of his being had not been stirred. As she -herself had said, "If there were a gulf between them now, what would it -grow to be when they were man and wife!" His imagination pictured to him -in the most forcible colors the hideous dreariness and the -ever-increasing unhappiness of a marriage of disparity, where neither -the convictions nor the sentiments of man and wife were in harmony. And -this was what he must awaken to,—too late, too late! for he could not -but acknowledge that now, at whatever sacrifice, he must stand firm. -There could no longer be any self-delusion with regard to a higher duty -to his art, to the responsibilities of a vocation for which ordinary men -were not fitted: his duty to himself had become one with his duty to -her. -</p> -<p> -The more he reflected upon his situation, the more inevitable did this -necessity appear to him, and the more hopelessly entangled became the -various threads of his life. He plunged into gayety to drown his -tormenting thoughts; he devoted himself feverishly to work. After a -day's uninterrupted study he would pass the better part of the night in -dissipation or dancing. "If you could but see me," he wrote to a friend; -"my whole being was sunk in dancing. And yet could I but say I am -happy,—that would be better than all. 'Who is it can say, I am at the -worst?' says Edgar. That is some comfort, dear friend. My heart is like -a weathercock when a storm is rising and the gusts are changeable. All -is not clear in my soul. I am too curiously awake not to feel that I -grasp at shadows. And yet—to-morrow at seven my horse is saddled, and -then adieu!" -</p> -<p> -The next morning he was on the road to Sesenheim. It was two weeks later -than the date of his promised visit, but he had previously lost so much -time, and he was so soon to take his degree, that it had been impossible -for him to leave the city. He had formed his resolution, and he was -about to put an end to all vacillations, and to the torture of -self-reproach and unmanly regrets, by confronting and accepting his -fate. He galloped along the familiar road in the early sunshine with a -concentrated bitterness at heart. This lover who rode at such a wild -pace to rejoin his betrothed and to bid her name the day of their union -was saying farewell to his freedom at every moment as he advanced. -</p> -<p> -When he neared the parsonage, he saw in the garden a girl's figure -bending to prop up the falling stem of a rose-bush. Her back was towards -him, and her head was covered with her large, flat garden-hat. The noise -of his horse's hoofs startled her, and she turned quickly: it was Rahel. -Her face, which had regained its former child-like vivacity, beamed with -delight as she recognized him. "At last!" she cried, and she rose and -hastened towards him, dropping with a clatter on the gravel her -garden-scissors and spool. "How glad I am to see you! but you are a -naughty man to have made us wait so long. Oh, how happy they will all be -to know you have come! Will you dismount here? Wait, and I will call -Hans." And with a shrill little cry she summoned the servant to lead the -horse to the stable; then, shaking Goethe warmly by the hand, she went -with him into the house, exclaiming, as she entered, "Papa! Alide! -Mamma! Goethe has arrived!" -</p> -<p> -He followed her as one in a dream: yes, this was his family; here was -his home; from to-day henceforward all this little circle was his own. -In the library they found the pastor, who welcomed him with the same -enthusiastic cordiality that Rahel had shown; and shortly after appeared -Frau Duroc. Her manner, less demonstrative than theirs, was unchanged in -its matronly dignity and kindness. -</p> -<p> -"And Alide?" asked Goethe, as soon as he had greeted them all and -explained briefly the delay of his own visit. -</p> -<p> -"She has not been quite herself of late," answered the mother; "though -she does not complain. She will be with us directly." -</p> -<p> -As she spoke, Alide entered the room. Seeing her thus after a -separation, Goethe was for the first time conscious of the change that -had taken place in her appearance since he had known her. She had -developed into a beautiful, serious woman; her expression, no longer -that of joyous unconsciousness, was almost melancholy in its thoughtful -gravity. She must have been ill during the last three weeks, for her -face had grown noticeably thinner, and had lost entirely its glowing -bloom of color, while her large, brilliant eyes were hollow and sunken -in their orbits and encircled by ominous lines. At this moment, however, -a tranquil cheerfulness animated her countenance as she advanced towards -Goethe with her usual serene smile. She gave him her hand to kiss, and -welcomed him kindly, but with a certain reserve in her manner. She -questioned him about himself, his health, his vocations, his approaching -examination, everything that interested him, but shrank from all -allusion to herself. She denied emphatically that she had been suffering -or ill since her return home, and even in doing so a natural little -laugh and a momentary flush of color tended to confirm her words. -</p> -<p> -In a short time the thread of Goethe's intercourse with the family -seemed resumed where it had last been dropped. The pastor, who -entertained an extravagant admiration and affection for him, found no -end of subjects on which to converse, and even to consult, with his -young friend. Rahel was once more lively and talkative, and Alide, -though unusually taciturn, seemed as cheerful as ever in Goethe's -presence. It was not till after dinner that he found himself alone with -her. -</p> -<p> -"Alide, I must say a word to you before I return to Strasburg," he -began, hurriedly. "Had we not better go to your arbor?" -</p> -<p> -An almost imperceptible shudder ran through her frame. "As you please, -Goethe," she answered; "though I scarcely think we should be interrupted -here." -</p> -<p> -She had not yet called him Wolfgang in her old child-like, affectionate -tone. She went to fetch her hat, and in a few moments they were out of -the house together, walking through the fields. -</p> -<p> -"Before we part again, Alide," said Goethe, in a dry, husky voice, "we -must put an end to this unsettled life, which places us both in a false -position and creates an unrest for the spirit that precludes all useful -activity. We are both very young to marry, I know, and perhaps your -parents will not find it fitting that you should leave them so early; -but I have reflected, and I think it best that we should be together as -soon as possible." -</p> -<p> -What a poor little stiff speech it was, contrasted with the ardor and -fluency of his first passionate declaration! She listened quietly, -retaining to the end the same steadfast, unmoved expression. They had -reached the arbor, and they entered in silence and seated themselves -side by side. It was greener and shadier than when they had first met -there in the autumn; the golden lights that fell upon their two youthful -figures were rarer, but not less brilliant. A blue July haze hung over -the landscape. -</p> -<p> -"I have a confession to make to you, dear friend," said Alide. Her voice -was low, even, and natural, save for a somewhat monotonous ring. "It -will give you pain, you will think me heartless and weak and foolish, -but some day you will thank me that I have spoken in season. A curious -change has taken place in me since I returned from Strasburg. I was able -to conceal from you, yes, even from myself, how difficult that -restricted conventional town-life was to me, but I was as happy as Rahel -when it was brought to an end. To see papa once more, the dear old -manse, the open meadows,—all this made my heart stir and leap as -nothing had since I left them. I had not been at peace with myself in -the city. Everything I had been accustomed to cherish seemed there of so -little account. And even you, Goethe, your enthusiasms were not mine, -your convictions were far different. Whenever you spoke of the -Cathedral, I felt a shock and a pang. All the sacred mysteries of our -faith, so inestimably precious to me, were naught to you. I was -distressed by a thousand conflicting ideas and emotions, I who had been -used to see all things simply and clearly. No, I was not happy there; -but here I have regained my former contentment and tranquillity. You, -dear friend, will advance on a brilliant, an unexampled career; but if I -be drawn from my proper element I shall suffocate and die. Is it not -better to part at the beginning of the roads, before they diverge too -widely? I also have seen something of unhappy marriages. You are not the -man, Goethe, to whom a woman should give herself with reserve and -restrictions. If I cannot say, 'Wherever you go, I will follow; for you -I will sacrifice my parents, my home, my pursuits, my life,—and it -will be no sacrifice, but a free and joyous gift,'—if I cannot say -that, I know that I have no right to call myself your wife." -</p> -<p> -She paused, but Goethe was so amazed and bewildered that he made no -reply. He had listened to her in a sort of stupor, with his eyes fixed -upon the prospect below him, of which he saw nothing. Alide had made her -"confession" with as little sentiment as if she were reciting a studied -part: her face was unnaturally white, her hands rested listlessly upon -her straw hat, which she had taken off and laid upon her lap. But after -she had finished speaking, in the moment of silence that ensued, the -blood rushed into her cheeks, and a smile, as of the dawning of a new -hope, kindled her whole countenance. Still, he neither spoke nor turned -towards where she sat. The light died from her face, and a violent -shudder ran through her frame; she raised her hand, passed it twice -quickly over her brow and eyes, and then, almost involuntarily -outstretching it towards Goethe, clasped his own, and, with a -supplicating note in her voice strangely at variance with her cold -words, she cried, "But, oh, Goethe! surely you will not withdraw from me -your friendship?" -</p> -<p> -He started, and looked at her for the first time during their interview: -her cheeks were still flushed, her eyes glittered with a peculiar light -which he had never seen in them before. Something of his old tenderness -of manner returned as he beheld the beautiful, agitated little face. -</p> -<p> -"You foolish child," he began, and kissed the icy hand that rested upon -his own. "But no: I have not the right to speak to you in this way. You -are no child, but a noble, true-hearted woman. To speak the truth as you -have done, Alide, simply and fearlessly, requires something heroic. But -I will not abide by what you have said: perhaps you have not considered -deeply enough your own feelings, perhaps you have judged hastily our -mutual position. It is quite natural that you should experience pleasure -in seeing your father and your home again, even after so short a -separation. Your ideas are somewhat exalted, my child: it is not -expected of any woman that she should give up the instincts of her -heart, the tender associations of her childhood, even for the man she is -to wed. But take time, and reflect again, Alide. I shall not be present -to disturb your choice. At the end of a fortnight I will return, and -then, if your feelings have changed, you will know that I am still and -always your own." -</p> -<p> -"But they will not change," she answered, with a quiet smile, as she -rose to her feet. -</p> -<p> -They left the arbor in silence, as they had entered, and returned to the -house. On the way, however, she began to talk composedly of other -things. She made him pluck for her a wild flower that grew on the edge -of the brook, saying she had never remarked it before, and asking him -its botanical name and genus. He, on his part, was so excited and -confounded by what had taken place between them that he could not speak -naturally of anything. A burden had been lifted from his heart and his -brain, but nevertheless he could not repress a feeling of indignation at -seeing her so cold and indifferent. "To think that I was about to -sacrifice myself for one so volatile as that!" he said to himself. Then, -repeating unwittingly the very words that had occurred to her when they -parted at Strasburg, he thought, "This is the end. Can it be that she -really does not care?" And he looked at her keenly and scrutinizingly. -</p> -<p> -No, there was not a trace of passion or grief on that pale, serene face. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -The fortnight passed for Goethe in a whirl of activity. A day or two -after his visit to Sesenheim he took his degree, gaining his doctorate, -and carrying the victory with honor over his worthy opponent. He made -preparations at once for leaving Strasburg and returning to his father's -home in Frankfort. But, much as the presence of Alide had troubled him -of late, in her absence he could not cease to recall her myriad -attractions and lovable qualities: at every turn he missed her gentle, -affectionate companionship, her equable serenity, her tender, -unobtrusive kindness for himself. He wrote to her several times, but, -receiving no reply, he waited impatiently for the day of his return to -the parsonage, when he was to bid farewell to her for months or forever, -according to her own wish. Her silence, however, left him little doubt -as to her final decision. "Those were painful days," he wrote later, "of -which I remember nothing. When I held out my hand to her from my horse, -the tears were in her eyes, and I felt sad at heart." -</p> -<p> -All was over: she would never cease to think of him with grateful -affection and esteem, but she could never be his. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII -<br><br> -FREEDOM</h4> - -<p> -It would be difficult for a person of moderate emotions or -well-disciplined temperament to conceive the thrilling sense of power -and freedom with which Goethe started on his journey from Strasburg to -Frankfort. Now at last the whole world was before him, and he was tied -down by no bond of duty to the period of his immaturity: now he was free -to develop all that he felt engendering and growing within him. Progress -and activity,—with those two watchwords, what could he not dare and -accomplish? He experienced, moreover, a purely animal sensation of -delight in his liberty, as he traveled over the rich and beautiful -country, reveling in the brilliant sunshine, the large air, and the -sweet smells of the spacious fields. There was something contagious in -the reckless exhilaration of his spirits, and all who met him were -impressed by the spectacle of this handsome, happy youth, gifted with an -organization of mind and body in which one could scarcely detect a -flaw, and seeming to enjoy unbounded delight in the mere consciousness -of existence. -</p> -<p> -Mentally and physically he was in a condition of perfect health, and he -was thus fitted to receive impressions which modified for the rest of -his life his whole tone of thought. At Mannheim he saw in plaster, for -the first time, some of the masterpieces of Greek art, which from that -moment became for him the most beautiful type of the ideal. He made -companions of all whom he met by the way: now it was a learned -professor, now an enthusiastic artist, a handsome peasant-woman, a burly -farmer, or a prosaic burgher. He could find entertainment in the society -of all, or he could pass, with higher pleasure, hours of silence and -solitude among the relics of the Greeks, or in the open meadows. At -Mainz he fell in with a wandering harpist, and, as the lad was clever -and honest-faced, nothing would serve but that he must be Goethe's -minnesinger and his fellow-traveler for the rest of the journey, and -accept the hospitality of his father's house in Frankfort. So these two -odd companions fared merrily through the prosperous summer fields, -without the shadow of a care between them; and during all their progress -Goethe was so full of mad freaks and whims, and took such fantastic -pleasure in quaint disguises, and the poor harpist was so sanguine and -so elated, that it would have been hard to tell who of the happy pair -was the poet and who was the beggar. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -When Alide, after bidding farewell to Goethe, turned in from the sunny -air which struck a chill through her every bone and nerve, she succeeded -with difficulty in mounting the stairs and reaching her room; but, as -she entered, a faint, short cry escaped her, and she fell upon the -floor. It was thus they discovered her, white as death, even to the -lips, with no other sign of life than the just-perceptible pulsation of -the heart. To their terror, they found it impossible to rouse her from -her swoon: at times her fingers would stir, or she would slowly change -the posture of an arm or a hand; but their beseeching, piteous glances -of grief and affection were answered by no gleam of consciousness from -her blank blue eyes, when the heavy lids were for a moment wearily -raised. -</p> -<p> -They clad her in her night-dress and laid her on her bed, and through -the changeless, unnatural quiet of the darkened days, and the -oppressive, awful stillness of the creeping hours of night, they kept -watch beside her pillow, awaiting in sickening suspense the signs of -returning reason. She looked divinely peaceful in that mysterious -trance: the fragile physical frame seemed utterly exhausted and as if -broken, but so much the more ethereal was the spiritual calm that had -settled upon the exquisite, restful face. Is it true, then, that life is -the highest and the sweetest gift? Might not one hesitate to decide -whether it were better to win back to earth this almost disembodied -spirit, or rather thus quietly and painlessly to let her float into -eternal repose? -</p> -<p> -But no such thoughts found entrance into the overwrought brain of the -mother, who, with wide, dry eves, was sitting now at midnight beside her -darling's prostrate form. She was the last watcher left awake in the -household: the pastor and his son, useless in the sick-room, had -succumbed to fatigue and anxiety and retired to seek a few hours' -forgetfulness. Rahel, her pale, troubled face still streaming with -tears, lay, utterly worn out, fast asleep on a couch near Alide's -bedside. Madame Duroc had sat for a long time motionless as Alide -herself, never turning her tearless, aching eyes away from her -unconscious child. Even now she suffered less through the realization of -her own approaching loss than through her overpowering maternal pity for -this passionate, broken young heart that had wrestled and endured alone. -She had had bitter, wicked thoughts in her weary vigil: the poor, pious -mother had been tempted to invoke curses upon the stranger who had -wrecked this precious life and had bereaved her own declining years. Now -she could no longer pray nor think; a dull despair had absorbed all her -faculties. -</p> -<p> -Suddenly a change came upon the face of Alide; the serene expression was -replaced by a slight contraction of the brows, as though she suffered -pain; the lips, which had been relaxed almost into a smile, were drawn -closely together, and her hands, that had rested crossed over her -breast, fell by her sides. -</p> -<p> -"My child! my child!" cried Madame Duroc, fancying that this was the -very shadow of death darkening over her daughter's face; and, clasping -her arms about Alide's neck, she raised her head from the pillow and -strained it to her breast amid a passion of tears and caresses. -</p> -<p> -"What is the matter?" said Alide, in an almost inaudible voice. -</p> -<p> -In an instant Rahel also was by the bedside. "Mamma! mamma!" whispered -she, "for God's sake, do not give way now!" -</p> -<p> -Madame Duroc, recalled to herself by the pathetically feeble tones of -Alide, no less than by Rahel's appeal, was able to conquer her momentary -weakness. -</p> -<p> -"Nothing, my darling," she answered, with sufficient composure. "You -have had a long sleep; I was watching you, and I woke you just then from -a painful dream." -</p> -<p> -"Is that all?" asked Alide, wearily, again closing her eyes. "But, -mamma," she began in a little while, "you were mistaken. I was not -dreaming at all. I have been only resting for a long time. Oh, how tired -I was! Why did you wake me?" -</p> -<p> -Madame Duroc tried to avoid answering her, and to quiet her into a -natural slumber. During several minutes Alide lay apparently at rest, -but all at once she turned, thoroughly awake, towards the other side of -the bed, where her sister sat. "Rahel," she asked, with the suspicious -curiosity of the sick, "why are you here at this hour? Is it not late -night? What are you both watching me for? Am I ill?" -</p> -<p> -"No, sister," answered Rahel, soothingly. "You have been ill, but now -you are going to be well. Will you drink this little glass of tea for -us, and go to sleep again, Alide?" -</p> -<p> -"Why not?" asked Alide, like a child; and, swallowing the draught which -Rahel gave her, she seemed to sink once more into unconsciousness. -</p> -<p> -But forgetfulness was no longer to be hers. As she lay with closed eyes, -too tired to stir or speak, she lived over in her mind all the joy, the -disappointment, the struggle, and the agony. Her whole frame ached with -utter weariness, a dull, heavy pain oppressed her heart, and her brain -felt on fire with the whirl of thoughts that wrought it into -preternatural activity. If she could not find some relief from this -internal fever, she felt that she should go mad. She raised her eyes and -saw her mother and sister silently weeping; suddenly a yearning -compassion opened the flood-gates of her heart, and she burst into -tears. -</p> -<p> -"Oh, mamma, let me weep!" she cried, as her mother tried to soothe her, -caressing her brow and tenderly kissing her burning eyelids. "It is -almost as good as rest itself to be able to weep at last!" -</p> -<p> -When her paroxysm of grief passed over, she was almost lifeless with -exhaustion. "I cannot even weep any more," said she; "and yet all is so -sore about my heart. Everything seems dim and strange to me. I think I -am going to leave you. Rahel, come closer to me, by mamma, that I may -see you both." -</p> -<p> -Her words were scarcely audible, and were continually interrupted by a -dry, hard sob. They each held one other cold, damp hands in theirs, -kissing it and weeping over it. -</p> -<p> -"You must ask papa and Otto to come in and see me once more," she went -on, with great effort. "But first, mamma, will you promise me, and you too, -Rahel, before I go, to forgive <i>him</i>,—forgive him even in your -thoughts?—for it is not he who was to blame: he was generous and true -to the last; but it was not to be. I did not think this would be the end -of all those happy days. But, believe me, it is not his fault. Tell me -that you forgive him,—that you forgive me." -</p> -<p> -What could Madame Duroc answer in the anguish of such a moment, save -that she would grant that touching prayer, for the sake of the very -child who had been his victim? But the effort had been too much for -Alide, and before her mother's words died in her ears she had relapsed -into a swoon. -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -And yet that hour was not the last, it was only the crisis of Alide's -existence. Slowly, gradually, and painfully they won her back to life. -It was a colorless and joyless life enough; and nevertheless she learned -that it could be endured, yes, even cherished, without the element of -hope or the possibility of happiness. The tender devotion of those -around her made her accuse herself on her knees to Heaven, of basest -ingratitude, if for a moment she succumbed to the hungry longing and -pain of her heart and wished that she had been permitted to drift away -from all trouble and desire. She learned the significance and the beauty of -those divine words,—duty and resignation; and, as the slow time wore -away, she even found that a quiet pleasure could steal into certain days -and shed a subdued radiance over her sheltered, monotonous life. She -found herself capable of a sympathy with the happiness of others, a calm -and serious enjoyment of much that had formerly delighted her, and a -pious satisfaction in the daily victory over her own heart. -</p> -<p> -There was no need for her to retire behind the grated walls of a -convent. Hers were the constant chastity, the exalted faith, the meek -submission of the nun; but she found ample scope for the exercise of all -womanly virtue among those whose love had rescued her from the grave, in -her own pastoral home, where on every side she came in personal contact -with human trouble and human joy. -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII -<br><br> -LETTERS</h4> - -<p> -A few weeks after Goethe's arrival in Frankfort he wrote the following -letter to Alide: -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<blockquote> -<p style="margin-left: 20%;">"FRANKFORT-ON-THE-MAIN, Sept. 25, 1771. -</p> -<p> -"MY DEAR FRIEND,—I have only an hour ago, and in a quite accidental -manner, heard of your recent illness. I can think of nothing else until -I have expressed the sympathy and concern which I feel for you, and -begged you to send me, as soon as you are able, a reassuring word of -your convalescence, or, still better, your complete restoration. -Fortunately for me, the tidings that you were already on the road to -recovery came at the same time with those of your attack: so I have been -spared the anxiety and suspense of thinking that a life which is so dear -to me is actually endangered. Nevertheless, a strange, superstitious -dread still haunts my heart, and my spirit is unaccountably oppressed. I -cannot help associating this illness, which comes so soon after my -departure, with the rupture of our affectionate, intimate relations. Can it -be that you have suffered through me,—you whom I retain in my memory -as an ideal of all that is precious and lovely in woman? I torment -myself with a thousand questions, a thousand useless surmises. Can it be -I who was to blame? I, who would not wittingly injure a hair of that -golden little head which I have so often pressed to my lips? Surely, my -friend, this may not be. And yet why does the thought constantly recur -to my mind? Was it not yourself who saw that our union was incongruous, -impossible? And since my return to Frankfort I am more than ever -convinced that all your views were just and correct. I feel ceaselessly -impelled to a larger and wider circle of activity; all is restless and -at boiling heat within me, everything seethes and ferments in my mind -and spirit. What I shall accomplish I scarcely know as yet, but I feel -that I shall accomplish much. I cannot sufficiently admire your courage -in confronting the necessity of our situation and daring to utter the -truth for the sake of our future welfare at the risk of so much present -pain. Meantime, dear friend, to whom I owe so many memorable hours of -tranquil happiness, do we not clasp hands in closest, warmest friendship -still? I long to hear from you the reassuring word, and am, with -heartfelt wishes for your speedy restoration to health, -</p> -<p style="margin-left: 30%;">Your true -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">"Goethe." -</p> -<p> -"Please present my sincere regards to your dear parents, and recall me -to the recollection of my good Fräulein Rahel." -</p></blockquote> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -In due time he received the following reply: -</p> - -<p><br></p> - -<blockquote> -<p style="margin-left: 20%;">"SESENHEIM, October 8, 1771. -</p> -<p> -"MY DEAR FRIEND,—It is true that I have been ill; but I am already -fast regaining my former health and spirits, and I cannot be grateful -enough that my strength held out to the end. It was not till all was -over that I succumbed. I feel as one who has been dead, and I seem to -have won the right to speak to you from my heart without reserve or -timidity, for the last time. No, you are not to blame for the rupture of -our relations: reassure yourself on that point, dear friend. I have not -to reproach you with a harsh word, an unkind look, throughout the course -of our year's intimacy. Always gentle, generous, and noble, I will hold -you in my memory as I knew you. But when you praised me, Goethe, in the -arbor, for my 'heroism in speaking the truth fearlessly and simply,' -every word I had uttered was a lie. God pardon me! but never for a -moment, since I had first learned to love you, had I felt that I could -not for your sake sacrifice parents, home, and life itself to follow and -to serve you. A word, a gesture, a single impulse of the old tenderness, -would have brought me to your side again, and made me deny every word I -had that minute spoken. But it was not to be, and I knew it before I -began. It was not there that I renounced you. I could easily then assume -indifference, for the blow had long since been struck. It was in -Strasburg, the day after your visit from Herr Breitkopf, that I said -farewell to you in my heart. From that morning I knew that all was at an -end between us. I watched you closely, jealously, and everything -confirmed my fears. As soon as I was assured of the truth, I took my -resolution. Dearly as I loved you, I could not have borne from you the -cold neglect, the daily slights and wounds, which I foresaw from a -continuation of our existing relations. I wronged you, Goethe: you were -generous and upright to the last; but I knew that to ask me in marriage -was a sacrifice of your dearest hopes and aspirations. Could I accept a -union without love or sympathy? Not only for your sake, but selfishly -for my own, I knew that I must reject it absolutely then and there. I -thank God again and again that my purpose held firm, my strength endured -till the end. Cease to reproach yourself, dear friend: these are events -that could not have been foreseen. How could we choose but love each -other? But you were destined for a lofty career, and God will chasten me -for my foolish weakness. -</p> -<p> -"I have indeed been very ill, and caused my poor mother and all around -me much anxiety. I am glad to be well again, for their sake and for my -own. I could not have died with that lie upon my lips. I have not -suffered much: it was nothing but a great weariness and exhaustion; and -it has now passed away entirely. -</p> -<p> -"Rahel is to be married in a fortnight. Poor papa and mamma will be so -lonely without her that it is a comfort to me to be with them. As long -as I feel that my life is useful and almost necessary to these who are -so dear to me, I cannot be quite unhappy. But I shall always be alone. -The heart that has once loved Goethe can never love again. -</p> -<p> -"Pray do not write to me; it is best that we should remain apart. Only -believe in the friendship of -</p> -<p style="margin-left: 60%;">"ALIDE DUROC."</p> -</blockquote> - -<p><br></p> - -<p> -"Alide's answer," says Goethe, "to the letter in which I had bidden her -adieu tore my heart. I now for the first time became aware of her -bereavement, and saw no possibility of alleviating it. She was ever in -my thoughts; I felt that she was wanting to me, and, worst of all, I -could not forgive myself. Gretchen had been taken from me, Annette had -left me; but now for the first time I was guilty: I had wounded to its -very depths one of the most beautiful and tender of hearts. And that -period of gloomy repentance, bereft of the love which had so invigorated -me, was agonizing, insupportable. But man will live. Under the broad, -open sky, on the heights or in the valleys, in the fields and through -the woods, my mind regained some of its calmness. I almost lived on the -road, wandering between the mountains and the plains. Often I went -alone, or in company, right through my native city, as though I were a -stranger in it, dining at one of the great inns in the High Street, and -after dinner pursuing my way. I turned more than ever to the open world -and to nature; there alone I found comfort." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4><a id="Epilogue">EPILOGUE</a></h4> - -<p> -Late in the afternoon of the 24th of September, 1779, two young men -alighted from the diligence in the court-yard of one of the principal -inns in Strasburg. There was enough resemblance between them for a -stranger to have supposed them to be brothers, though one seemed not -less than thirty, and the other scarcely past his majority. Both had the -same type of face,—handsome in outline, open, joyous, and animated in -expression; but that of the elder had the advantage of exquisite -refinement and extraordinary intellect. He was not remarkably tall, but -the proportions of his figure were remarkable, and there was something -majestic in the pose of his head. His companion, shorter, stouter, and -more commonplace in appearance, was, nevertheless, a noble-looking -fellow. Though by so much the younger of the two, he seemed to receive -from his companion the trifling kindnesses which one traveler can render -another, with the unconscious grace and dignity of one who is accustomed -to be served. A frank equality of friendship must have existed between -them, for they used the brotherly <i>Thou</i> in conversation; but at times -a just-perceptible tone of deference in the voice of the elder implied -some inferiority of station. The elder of these two young men was -Geheimrath Goethe, the author of "Götz von Berlichingen," "Werther," -and "Iphigenia;" and his fellow-traveler was Prince Karl August, Duke of -Saxe-Weimar. -</p> -<p> -The Prince had violated all regulations of court etiquette by starting -incognito on a pleasure-excursion to Switzerland with his inseparable -friend. They had already stopped at Frankfort, and visited Goethe's -home, and from thence had come by short and easy stages to Strasburg. -Having shaken off the dust of their journey and refreshed themselves at -the inn, they set out for a walk through the city after sunset. Goethe -had not been here since he had bidden farewell to Alide, eight years -ago: everything recalled vividly to his mind her beautiful personality -and that brief and happy episode of his life. He began by narrating to -the Duke some pleasant incidents of his residence and studies here, but -gradually, as the twilight deepened, the two friends fell into a serious -conversation on the subjects which they most enjoyed discussing -together,—philosophy, religion, art, and even love. The image of -Alide, an insubstantial, mocking vision, floated continually before -Goethe: he could not banish the recollection of all the joy, passion, -and misery crowded into one year for that poor little generous soul. -</p> -<p> -The two young men mounted to the platform of the Cathedral after the -moon had risen; and there, softened by so many sweet and sad -reminiscences, Goethe opened his heart to his friend, and confided the -story of his love for Alide,—pointing out in the wide-lying country, -illuminated by that silver light, the spot, far beyond the city, where, -shadowed by its mountains, lay the village of Sesenheim. He would go -to-morrow and satisfy himself as to how that kindly family fared, and -whether they still held a friendly remembrance of him; and he begged -Karl August to accompany him on his day's jaunt. But the Prince said it -was not fitting that he should be present at the reunion of such old -acquaintances. Goethe must go, but he must go alone: if he were coldly -received, he would not be mortified before his friend; and if he met -with a cordial greeting, he would be sure that it was owing to a sincere -regard for himself, "and not," added the Duke, modestly, "to the -obligation of extending hospitality to a stranger." -</p> -<p> -The next day, at noon, Goethe started on his ride to Drusenheim. He left -his horse at the inn, and approached the parsonage, just as he had done -years before, in the glow of an autumn afternoon. It might have been -yesterday that he was here, for all the changes that had taken place in -the house or its surroundings. The roses bloomed in the garden, the -woodbine flourished over the porch, the same air of serene prosperity -enveloped orchard and vineyard and shining meadow; the immortal purple -light streamed again on the luxuriant slopes of the far-away mountains. -</p> -<p> -A little girl, some five or six years old, was playing with her doll in -the garden. As Goethe entered the gate, she was about to run into the -house; but he called her back gently. -</p> -<p> -"Do not be afraid, my little friend. Does the Pastor Duroc live here -still?" -</p> -<p> -Reassured by his winning voice, she turned towards him, but, without -advancing, waited until he reached her. He patted her on the head, and, -looking into the wondering, upturned face, he saw a curious blending of -the faces he so well remembered. The child had the golden hair, Saxon -mouth, and broad cheeks of Waldstein, and the dark, brilliant eyes and -rich complexion of Rahel. Goethe had never seen a more dainty, exquisite -little creature. -</p> -<p> -"Will you take me into the house?" said he. "I am an old friend of your -grandpapa's, and I should love dearly to see him again. And your -mamma,—is she at home?" -</p> -<p> -"I have no mamma," answered the child, quietly, without taking her eyes -from the stranger's face. "How funny his hair is,—all in rings!" she -was saying to herself. -</p> -<p> -The shock of her words was so great to Goethe, as he stood in the bright -sunshine, expecting momently to see the laughing face of Rahel beam out -upon him from the door or the window, that the sudden tears started in -his eyes. All that exuberant life and spirit already passed from earth! -He was afraid to ask the child any more questions; but she had -taken such a fancy to his appearance that she was bold enough to -begin prattling herself. "Papa is away; but all the rest are at -home,—grandpapa, and grandmamma, and Aunt Alide." And, with a -charming confidence that made Goethe smile again, she put her tiny hand -in his. -</p> -<p> -"Come, and I will take you to the house," she said: "if you knew mamma, -I am sure they will be glad to see you; you must be a very, very old -friend. I never knew her myself, and I am nearly seven years old. But -who shall I tell them is here?" -</p> -<p> -"I am Herr Goethe," answered he. "Shall you remember that name, my -clever little girl? Tell your grandmamma that Goethe is here." -</p> -<p> -He entered the library with his heart beating high in his breast. What -changes he must expect to find in this household where already a breach -had been made! He could not realize that Rahel was dead: it seemed -impossible that she should not enter this room, where everything -reminded him so vividly of her picturesque presence. A cheerful cry of -welcome startled him from the gloomy reflections into which he had -fallen, and the pastor stood before him with outstretched hands. He was -much moved to see again Goethe, who could not fail to remark the traces -of age and trouble in the old man's demeanor and appearance. The -greeting of Madame Duroc was not less friendly and hearty than that of -her husband, though her manner was quieter and more composed. -</p> -<p> -Immediately after her came Alide. She was still beautiful, though she -had matured and suffered so much since he had seen her. Her face was -paler and more delicate, but the large gray eyes had lost none of their -soft, tender radiance; her form was slender, and seemed to have gained -height and graceful stateliness, owing to the difference in her costume, -for she wore a long French gown. The little girl was with her, hand in -hand, and Alide advanced to meet her old lover with as much dignity and -frank pleasure as if she were a young mother. After she had welcomed him -she brought forth the child, saying, with a smile, "I believe you have -already made friends with Fräulein Clara;" and then added, in a low -voice, "We think she looks like her dear mother: do you find it so? -Come, Clärchen, you must shake hands with this gentleman, and when you -grow to be an old, old woman like grandmamma, you can boast that you -have shaken hands with the great Goethe." -</p> -<p> -"Why do you put such foolish ideas in the young one's head?" said -Goethe, laughing, but with visible embarrassment. "We are already good -friends, as you say, and you must not make her afraid of me. It is your -aunt who is great," he said to the child, as he bent and kissed her -forehead to conceal his agitation; "and may you grow to be as true and -noble a woman as she is!" -</p> -<p> -Goethe's own words will best describe the remainder of the day which he -passed at the parsonage: "On the 25th I rode towards Sesenheim, and -there found the family which I had left eight years ago. I was welcomed -in the most friendly manner. The second daughter loved me in those days -better than I deserved, and more than others to whom I have given so -much passion and faith. I was forced to leave her at a moment when it -nearly cost her her life: she passed lightly over that episode, to tell -me what traces still remained of the old illness, and behaved with such -exquisite delicacy and generosity from the moment I stood before her -unexpected on the threshold, that I felt quite relieved. I must do her -the justice to say that she made not the slightest attempt to rekindle -in my bosom the cinders of love. She led me into the arbor, and there we -sat down. It was a lovely moonlight, and I inquired after every one and -everything. Neighbors had spoken of me not a week ago. I found old songs -which I had composed, and a carriage which I had painted. We recalled -many a pastime of those happy days, and I found myself as vividly -conscious of all as if I had been away only six months. The old people -were frank and hearty, and thought me looking younger. I stayed the -night there, and departed at dawn, leaving behind me friendly faces, so -that I can now think once more of this corner of the world with comfort, -and know that they are at peace with me." -</p> - -<p><br><br><br></p> - -<h4>THE END</h4> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALIDE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> diff --git a/old/69539-h/images/alide_frontispiece.jpg b/old/69539-h/images/alide_frontispiece.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index bcc4dac..0000000 --- a/old/69539-h/images/alide_frontispiece.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69539-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/69539-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 25382a0..0000000 --- a/old/69539-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null |
