Part 30

But what could, what ought he to do now, since the only profession for which his education and studies fitted him--that of politics--was closed to him in every direction? A quiet, inactive, private life, which but a few hours before, in the hope of a marriage with Cornelia, had appeared endurable, now seemed to him a moral death. He did not understand nature, the occupations of an agriculturist had no charms for him. Should he turn his estates into money, and invest it in some other way? But in what? All the pleasures that can be purchased he had already enjoyed to the dregs; life could afford him nothing more. The egotist had reached the end of his career, and could neither advance nor recede. Crushed and helpless, he looked back upon his past life, and now the point at which he had turned from the right path revealed itself to his searching gaze. The hours stood forth before his soul when he had struggled in his first conflict between inclination and duty, and inclination had conquered. All the strange, feverish fancies once more rose before his memory, and he perceived that they were the voices of his own heart which had spoken to him in the forms of delirium. Now he understood--now, after it was fulfilled--what they had said. With the first false step to which egotism urged him, he was lost. The frivolity with which he had degraded the first woman he loved, to be the prey of his passion, robbed him of his best possession, respect for the sex. Thus every base materialism, which only sought the enjoyment of the senses and thereby often formed the sharpest contrast with the demands of his intellectual nature, developed itself. The more frequently this conflict occurred, the greater it became, the further the two extremes became separated from each other, and the more distinctly their characteristics were stamped. The more the feelings were severed from the intellect, the lower they sank into sensuality, the stronger the passions became, and the more peremptorily they demanded their victim; while, on the other hand, the more exclusively the intellect withdrew into its own sphere, the further it banished the feelings, the colder and more obstinate it became, the more dull to everything which did not concern its own advantage, and therefore the more unprincipled. From this sprang the crimes which _Henri_ on the one hand, and _Heinrich_ on the other, had committed, whose consequences now drove him to despair, and had even terrified and driven from him forever the only woman for whom both extremes longed with equal ardor. Thus the cause of all the evil in his whole mistaken life was the separation between the mind and heart; the pleasure-seeking of the one, the immoderate ambition of the other, was the curse which had sprung from this division, the form under which egotism had taken possession of both portions of his nature. And of what he had enjoyed and obtained--nothing was left! His life had been fruitless to himself as well as to others. He had deceived and sacrificed confiding natures, and brought a nation to ruin for the sake of tasting the delights of ruling; the pleasure was over, and the curses of the unhappy accompanied him. Everything life could offer was exhausted, drained, and worn out! All the threads by which the heart draws its nourishment from the world were cut off and withered.

He now felt the deep truth of what Cornelia had wished to teach him, what he had once in a dream bodingly anticipated: "Remember that the end of life is neither to enjoy nor to obtain, but to be useful and accomplish good works." But now, when this great knowledge seized upon him,--when he perceived the fruitlessness of all selfish efforts,--now when a powerful impulse urged him to do what mankind, and accomplish what God, could ask of him,--now it was too late; every path was closed, and the woman who alone could restore harmony to his nature, lost! The guilt of the past had destroyed the hope of the future.

He rested his forehead upon his hand and closed his eyes; he could form no plans for the future, while repentance and anguish stirred his heart so violently--the first true repentance, the first great sorrow, of his life. True, his powers rose and expanded in the struggle with the unknown enemy as they had never done before, and the mighty assault of the contending elements widened and swelled his breast, as if now for the first time he became a man, now for the first time there was room in his heart for lofty feelings, resolutions, and efforts; true, the consciousness of the strength ennobled and increased by sorrow conquered for a moment: but as if with this, the longing for the nature that had always guided him towards the right path strengthened, the thoughts of Cornelia's loss once more gathered in the depths of his soul to break over him with renewed violence. What could life still offer him? There was no longer any love like Cornelia's, any mind like hers, any woman who could compare with her. He felt that this sorrow would never die; that he might perhaps obtain honor, but never happiness again. He threw himself despairingly upon the bench, face downward. The stream hurried along at his feet, plashing and glittering; the birds looked down from the branches at the tall, quiet man, turned their heads inquisitively, and softly twittered a timid question. Far above his head the summits of the ancient firs rustled and told the azure sky of the sorrow concealed beneath their shade.

Softly and slowly the bushes near him parted,--he did not hear it,--and a slender girlish form glided over the soft moss with a light step; cautiously approached, and as she stood beside him, bent down, holding her breath. Her glances beamed through tears, and she trembled like a wild rose under the morning dew. _Heinrich_ heard a heart beating close beside his ear, felt his head raised and pressed to a heaving bosom; looked into a pair of eyes like two shining worlds. It was no dream, and yet he could not utter a sound; all that he thought and felt blended together in an unspeakable something, which swelled his heart with glowing warmth, rose higher and higher till it reached his eyes, overflowed as if his whole soul was gushing forth with it: he had wept his first tears upon Cornelia's breast, and holding her in a mute embrace reveled in this unspeakable bliss!

The noonday sun shone brightly and glowed through the ripe clusters of grapes which hung from a trellis that surrounded the steward's pretty little house not far from Ottmar's castle. A charming young woman stood in the doorway, looking with eager expectation towards the forest; the steward was working busily in the garden, but he, too, often glanced into the distance.

"I don't understand where they could stay so long, if they met each other," said the little woman, at last. "It would be a pity if she missed him. I grieve over every hour the poor master is obliged to spend in his sorrow."

"Yes," gasped the man, wiping his brow, "it was time for her to show herself; the master's melancholy manner and wretched looks were becoming the talk of the whole neighborhood and, after all, she couldn't have been kept concealed much longer: we were always in a fright." He threw his tools aside, went up to his wife, and put his arm around her neck. "You would not have borne seeing me suffer so long, would you, my Roeschen?"

She nestled fondly to his side and nodded. "No, indeed, my dear Albert! But these great people are very different from us. Cornelia has a grand, noble soul, which we must not judge by our own."

"You are right; it would not be proper for us to apply our standard to them. Let us thank God we are made as is needful for our situation and welfare."

"Yes, thank God for it!" cried Roeschen, joyously. "Oh, Albert! how unhappy these aristocratic people often make themselves with their over-refinement and their lofty requirements! I saw that in my poor dead princess. Heaven knows what sorrow was gnawing at her heart! According to my ideas, she might have been very happy; but it often seemed as if she did not wish to be. At any rate, it was a very aristocratic sorrow. If she had been in our condition in life, and had not had so much time to give way to her thoughts, she would undoubtedly be alive now."

"Well, those two at least are not making themselves wretched," laughed Albert, pointing to Cornelia and _Heinrich_, who were rapidly approaching.

The married pair modestly withdrew, and Cornelia and _Heinrich_, absorbed in delightful conversation, reached the house, and entered a pleasant little room on the ground floor.

"See, Heinrich, here is the hiding-place where I waited for three weeks. From behind the curtains of that window I saw you pass, day after day, and watched your face with a throbbing heart. Will you forgive me for becoming a spy upon you? I wished, I was obliged, first to discover whether you were at last a man to whom I might dare to intrust my fate, whether you still loved me, and whether in my affection I should offer you a welcome gift. I was obliged to give you time to collect your thoughts after the blow that had fallen upon you, and to raise yourself by your own might. If you had shown yourself to my secretly watchful gaze otherwise than I hoped, otherwise than I might dare to love you, I should have gone away as I came, unobserved by you; perhaps with a broken heart, but silently and forever."

"Yon would have gone as already many a happiness has fled from the threshold of him who did not deserve it," said _Heinrich_, clasping her closely in his arms. "Oh, God, my salvation and my ruin were both so near! Your eyes watched me like those of God, and if I had not stood the test you would have left me for the second time, and been irrevocably lost to me."

"Ah, I did not doubt that you would stand the test! A man has rarely made greater sacrifices for a woman than you for me in the course of this last year; for I clearly perceived that you would never have acted as you have done if it had not been for my sake. But for your love for me you would in a few years have conquered your longing for a higher satisfaction, and remained till the end of your days in the cold splendor of your position at the court of N----. Love for me--I may be allowed to say so, since it is no merit of mine--was the impulse that led you to take the first steps in another path. It guided you hither, and I did not fear that it would desert you now, when it was apparently leading you into misery. But a noble woman asks more than love from the man of her choice: she demands character, firmness in misfortune as well as prosperity, the power which is to be her support and protection, the greatness to which she can cheerfully submit, admiringly look up. It is a necessity of our natures to honor what we love; in this humility lies our pride. If we cannot truly consider the man to whom we belong far superior to us, we feel humiliated in acknowledging him as our master. That is why I remained concealed so long; I wished to investigate your whole life and conduct here, to see what influence you exerted, whether you did good and made those around you happy, what pleasures and employments you choose, how you would bear the misfortune that had fallen upon you. And what I saw and heard convinced me that you had entered upon your new calling not only in appearance, but reality; that you had become a man to whom I might confidently give myself. Yet the tears you have just shed told me more than all. With these tears a new and better man was born in you; they have atoned for every wrong, washed away every spot. Ah, if the bigoted priests who believe you a lost soul had witnessed that one moment, they would have understood that there is something holy outside their church!"

"Cornelia," cried _Heinrich_, "dear, precious girl, say no more to me about the Jesuits! Although I bear no towards the unhappy Severinus, whom you have taught me to know as my brother, although I forgive the intrigues they plotted against me, I will never pardon them for having torn you from me and attempted to make you a proselyte, for having intrusted you for so long a time to that handsome, dangerous Severinus, whose perhaps unintentional conquests over women's hearts are well known to the order. I can only consider it as a miracle that you remained faithful to me."

Cornelia smilingly shook the hair back from her brow. "The miracle is nothing more than that I have a faithful heart and a firm head."

"Those are the highest gifts a woman can possess. And this jewel has fallen to my lot, mine of all others; this loyal, sorely wounded heart clung to me; this proud firm brow, no power has ever humiliated, bent to me. Oh, Cornelia, strong, gentle, forgiving woman, no man ever yet repented more deeply, or was more truly grateful, than I repent my crimes and thank you for your love! A thousand others in your place would either have been dragged down by me, or cast me off forever; but you would not permit yourself to be misled by all my faults and sins, you believed a noble germ within me. Instead of punishing, you reformed me, have been faithful to me; and now give yourself to me as trustfully and freely as in the first moment of our love. Oh, girl, there is no word for this bliss my thoughts are whelmed in a sea of emotions!" He paused and laid his head upon hers, as if he wished to rest from his overmastering emotion.

"Heinrich," said Cornelia, with deep, loving, earnestness, "let the past rest; the Heinrich to whom I always belonged, and shall as long as I live, never wronged me; he suffered with me when that other came between and tore us from each other. That Count Ottmar, whose wife I never wished to become, has atoned for his fault; he is dead. Never conjure up his gloomy shade before me, even to arraign him, I beseech you."

"Yes, my angel, you are right. Never was it so clear to me as to-day that I bore my worst enemy in myself, and in the last few hours I have buried him forever. One complete in himself, Cornelia, receives you in his arms; it shall be his one task to live for you and your happiness; he no longer seeks or hopes for anything but you and a quiet family happiness, unnoticed, but rich in blessing."

Cornelia looked at him in astonishment. "Would you renounce politics and every manly profession?"

"How can I help it? What can I begin after this failure? My political credit is ruined here as well as elsewhere. What can it avail to convince myself more and more that I cannot make amends for my errors in this province? But here,"--he laid his band an Cornelia's shoulder,--"here, thank God, I can atone for the wrongs I have committed; here I can and will prove that I have become a different man!"

"No, Heinrich," cried Cornelia, deeply touched. "I thank you for these words, and for the cheerfulness with which you hope to find in me a compensation for all; but I think too highly of you to be able to share this hope. No wife, not even the most beloved, can make that superfluous for which her husband was born: to work in a lofty vocation. What you now feel, in the first ebullition of joy, you cannot always experience. The storm that now fills your heart now will subside in time, and the calm which will then follow would at last make you find a void in yourself. You are no 'shepherd,' Heinrich. An idyllic, private life would not long satisfy you; a quiet withdrawal into your own family circle, a limiting of yourself to that which is personally dear to you, would be again an egotistical, and therefore only a partial, happiness. You possess the power of solving comprehensive problems. Every power imperiously demands its right to assert itself; if the opportunity is denied, it turns destructively against the barriers imposed upon it, and that which is also within them. Thus it would be with you and our peace. Woe betide the wife who believes that she can and must be the whole world to her husband! She does not understand his larger nature, and will only make herself or him unhappy. I do not belong to that class. I pride myself in taking into account all the just demands of your character, thus only can I make you happy. I will not regret you in the hours your profession claims, for I shall take possession of you doubly in spirit, when I know you to be toiling for that for which I myself would fain strive with all my powers, and must not because I am a woman. I will not bewail the time you take from me to give to mankind, for I love all men far too much to grudge them what you can do for their welfare. And then, Heinrich,"--she laid her head on his breast, and gazed into his face with a bride's ardent love,--"then when you return home to your wife weary but joyous in the consciousness of duty then you shall rest in my arms, in my faithful love, and let me have the proud belief that my heart is the soil from which the roots of your life draw nourishment for the glorious fruits that you permit the world to reap!"

"Cornelia, glorious creature! What a picture you conjure up before the soul! These are divine revelations, and I will follow them unquestioningly. Yes, I will begin anew; guide me with your inspired, prophetic glance, lead me to the path upon which my first step faltered; you alone know what is for my welfare." He gazed long and earnestly into her eyes. "Oh, do not reproach me as unmanly because I give myself up entirely to you, since through you I first became what I am, through you alone I first learned to perceive in laboring for others a duty, an object, in life! The representatives of these noble ideas are principally women; for to labor and care for others is woman's mission, to sacrifice herself for others' interests her greatest power. The man who allows himself to be guided by a woman need not become womanish, nor the woman masculine. If, like you, Cornelia, she rises above her narrow subjective world to ideas which comprehend all humanity, she confers the qualities inherent in her upon them, and then doubtless becomes capable of guiding the more egotistical man to honest efforts for the race, self-sacrifice, and true philanthropy! Thus the strength of your love and virtue, in one word, your lofty womanhood, draws me upward." He threw his arms around her and pressed her ardently to his heart. "Cornelia, my betrothed bride, oh, tell me again and again that I can never lose you, that you are mine!"

She clasped her hands. "Forever! forever! and may God's blessing be with us!"

"Amen!" said _Heinrich_.

Thus the power of a genuine love had healed the secret conflict in Ottmar. Intellect and sensuous feelings, both equally attracted, equally satisfied, united in the same object, and in the soft atmosphere of a true happiness his shattered nature healed into a symmetrical whole.

The ghostly apparitions of his dual existence disappeared before the reality of an all-reconciling feeling which seized upon the inmost kernel of life, and from this brought forth the source of never-failing joy.

When the whole man was in harmony with himself, his long-scattered and dispersed powers concentrated in the depths of his soul, and now for the first time showed unity of purpose and noble, honest action: for the first time he became a man. And when he thus once more appeared before the world with head erect, he conquered; for real ability and honest convictions always find allies in the natural instincts of the people, and against these even the hostility of the Jesuits was powerless. The web they had entwined around him was only that of his own cowardice and duplicity. His manly conduct at last tore it asunder. He was now free, and his purified character afforded no opening for a new snare. After a few years he saw the noblest ambition gratified,--that of being useful and accomplishing some good result. He was the main support of the Party in favor of the constitution, averted a threatening reaction by his ready dialectics, felt the mighty breath of an applauding nation hovering like a vivifying spring-storm about his head, and everywhere, far and wide, saw the seeds springing up which his reawakened philanthropy had sown.

And with inexpressible joy he clasped his blooming wife in his arms, compared the lifeless splendor of the former minister with the warm, evermore richly developing activity of the simple deputy, and his full heart gratefully overflowed in the proud words, "Yes, my wife, you were right; it is not what the world is to us, but what we are to the world, that is the measure of our happiness."

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote 1: A Jesuit prayer.]

[Footnote 2: An instrument used by the Jesuits for penance and punishment.]

THE END.

End of Project Gutenberg's A Twofold Life, by Wilhelmine von Hillern