Part 6

Both _Heinrich_ and _Henri_ had fallen equally low. If _Heinrich_ had crushed his sense of right and yielded to ambition, _Henri_ had gone so far in his pursuit of pleasure that he had sought to destroy a young, trusting heart, and angrily driven away the old man who had opposed his design. _Egotism had completed his victory over both natures_. Haunted by these and similar thoughts, he at last fell asleep just before dawn.

It was late in the forenoon when he awoke. The rays of the winter sun were shining upon the bright, blooming landscapes on his window curtains; a few freezing, starving birds were twittering loudly; everything bore a delusive semblance of spring, which had as little existence in the outside world as in his own breast. He opened his eyes, looked around him, and with a deep sigh murmured those words of painful disappointment: "Thank God, you have only been dreaming!" He sank back upon his pillows for a moment; it seemed as if his soul had not yet opened its eyes and was still slumbering, while he watched the bright colors upon his curtains. It seemed to him as if the door would open and old Anton come in to wake him. "Yes!" he called aloud, and started up. But he found himself alone. He rubbed his eyes and remembered that for the first time in his life Anton had failed to rouse him at the right hour. He had sent him away that very night! It was no dream: he had really done and experienced everything! "What has been begun must be finished," he said, with gloomy resolution, and rose to enter upon his sinful new career.

VI.

THE PRISON FAIRY.

Six years afterwards, on a cold, dreary November day, a grumbling, discontented crowd was waiting before the building in which the weal and woe of the country of N---- were decided. An important conference had just been concluded,--a consultation concerning increasing the severity of the punishments inflicted upon political criminals. Carriages drove up, and ministers and councilors entered them. At last a brilliant equipage, drawn by two snorting, spirited gray horses, dashed up so quickly that the crowd shrank back in terror, and looked at the door in eager expectation. Two servants hastily let down the steps. A slender man appeared who had not yet reached middle life, but on whose pallid face sharp lines were already visible. He did not vouchsafe to cast a glance at the throng, but as he entered the carriage he heard those near him whisper, "That is Ottmar; he is one of the worst of them." The door was closed, the footmen sprang back to their places, and the impatient steeds dashed through the crowd like griffins.

"Do you hate me at last?" murmured the cold man in the carriage. "It is well; if I once see I am hated I shall be able to shake off this remnant of conscientiousness that still tortures me, and henceforth live only for myself and my own aims."

The carriage stopped before a castle-like building, the state prison. Ottmar had for some time been commissioner of one of the revolutionary provinces of the country, where of late a new uprising was feared, and had therefore received orders to try to draw from the political prisoners, who were natives of that region, disclosures which might place some clue to the conspiracy in the hands of the government. The prince had selected him for this office because his cold watchfulness, smoothness, and skill in dealing with different natures seemed to make him peculiarly fitted for it. During the short time that Ottmar had been in the employ of the N---- government he had risen to the rank of privy councilor and member of the council of state, and displayed his talents in the widest spheres. He was the trusted friend of the young prince, over whom he exerted an inexplicable power, executor of the most secret measures, not unfrequently employed to deal with the agents of foreign courts, and his enemies began to fear him more and more when they perceived too late that his influence had already pervaded the whole court.

What it had cost him to submit and cringe to a system which his inmost soul abhorred, though with the longing to be or strive for something better he had violently crushed down every other feeling, as egotism and ambition had always suppressed the better emotions of unbiased convictions, was stamped in terrible characters upon the haggard, pallid, but still handsome face, the frail but haughtily erect figure.

He walked in gloomy silence behind the guide, who was taking him to the worst criminals in the lower story. A cold breeze blew over him, chilling his breast, and he involuntarily said to himself, "Yet men are compelled to live here!" It seemed as if the sound of despairing sobs reached his ear through one of the iron doors. He paused and listened. A low, soft voice appeared to be speaking words of solemn warning.

"Open this cell," he said to his guide; but the latter did not move.

"Oh, Herr Baron!" he said, imploringly, "shall we not go to the others first?--the man in there is very violent."

"Open the door!" said _Heinrich_, imperiously.

"Have mercy; we are all ruined men if you do not have mercy upon us!" stammered the guide, in the greatest confusion.

"What is the matter with you?" asked _Heinrich_, extremely perplexed. "I will be merciful if I can, but open the door at once."

The man hesitatingly unlocked the low door, and _Heinrich_ stood in the entrance as if spell-bound. A young girl, thoughtful and beautiful as artists paint the Muse of History, was sitting on a stool holding in her lap a book, from which she had apparently just been reading aloud. She was bending over the prisoner, who had thrown himself weeping on the ground at her feet, and speaking to him consolingly. _Heinrich_ motioned to the guide to be silent, and hastily retreated behind the door that he might not be seen.

"You have come too early, surely. I have not yet spent half an hour with Sebastian," said the young girl. A pale sunbeam fell upon her as she raised her head and shook back from her face a mass of luxuriant curls. Her full lips pouted a little as she asked the jailer, "What is the matter with you to-day? why do you look at me so?"

"You must come out now," said he.

She rose slowly.

"Stand up, Sebastian; be reasonable."

She bent over the despairing man and tried to help him rise; but he pressed his face still more closely to the damp ground.

"Stand up!" she suddenly commanded. "Behave like a man, not like a child, if you wish me ever to come here again."

The prisoner rose. He was an old man, decrepit and thin, with the staring eyes peculiar to those who for years have vainly endeavored to pierce with their glances the dungeon walls that surround them.

"Oh, do not be angry!" he pleaded. "I am calm now."

"Farewell for to-day, my poor Sebastian!" she said, returning to her former wonderfully gentle tone, and walked quickly along the passage to the next door. As she looked round to see if the warden was going to open it for her she perceived _Heinrich_, who could now no longer conceal himself. He advanced towards her, and she watched his approach with surprise, but very calmly. Her gaze had only been fixed upon his breast, which glittered with orders; but as he stood silently before her in his manly dignity she raised her dark eyes to his, and their glances met like electric sparks. A flush slowly suffused the young girl's clearly cut face, and she involuntarily cast down her eyes as if she had received a shock.

"I am very much surprised to find such charming society in these inhospitable apartments, Fraeulein," _Heinrich_ began.

"I do not think it so very astonishing if the jailer's daughter seeks to aid her father in his arduous duties."

"Pardon me, Fraeulein, if I take the liberty of doubting the accuracy of that statement," said _Heinrich_. "A jailer's daughter does not use such language; besides, the alarm displayed just now when I wished to enter the cell was far too great for me not to attribute more importance to your incognito. I am, unfortunately, compelled to look at your romantic appearance here through the extremely prosaic spectacles of an official, whose duty it is to obtain information in regard to every unusual event; therefore, by virtue of my office, I must inquire your name as well as request an explanation of your object."

The young girl looked at him with a long, steady gaze, while an expression played around her lips which _Heinrich_ had never before seen on a woman's face,--a slight shade of irony.

"Very well, sir; if these people have already betrayed me I need use no further deception. I did not employ it for my own sake, but on account of these poor employees whom I have estranged from their duty. My name I hope I may be permitted to conceal; but I owe you an explanation about my object: it is only to do good. As others go to hospitals to heal diseased bodies, the majority of which can no longer be saved, I come hither to aid sick souls, where often the best and highest results may be effected. Do you think that so romantic? I have surely done no wrong in bribing the officials here, partly by money, partly by kind words, to allow me to make a daily round through the cells. In charitable institutions the doors and gates stand open to all who wish to bring aid and consolation to the sufferers. The thrice wretched unfortunates in our prisons are refused all means of cheering and ennobling them. No account is taken of individuality here, where individuality is the sole standard of measurement. A chaplain is sent to admonish criminals to repent, who is to convert them all in a lump according to his own theories; but people trouble themselves very little about the result of this manufacturing method of conversion, and when at the expiration of their imprisonment the criminals are sent back into the world, they begin again just where they stopped years before."

"Oh, Fraeulein, you go too far! The punishment itself does most, for it terrifies them," replied _Heinrich_.

"Some, but certainly by far the smallest number. Many in the course of years become so hardened to it by custom that it loses its terrors, and the only moral the majority draw from imprisonment is--to manage more cautiously in future. There is only one guarantee for the permanent harmlessness of the criminal who cannot be imprisoned for life--amendment; but this principal object of punishment is always made subservient to the principle of avenging the insulted law."

"Well, and can you tell me also how this amendment is to be effected?" asked _Heinrich_, with increasing interest.

"I think by the admitting of judicious, trustworthy persons who can understand these different characters, and influence by advice and instruction, where the latter is needed."

"I admire your sanguine, philanthropic ideas," replied _Heinrich_; "but tell me yourself, my honored Fraeulein, would not the state have too much to do if it was compelled to take into account the peculiarities of each individual criminal, and establish and pay a whole corporation of amendment officials?"

This jeer wounded the young girl, and a deep flush crimsoned her noble, intellectual brow for a moment; but after a pause she continued, undaunted: "Such a task would perhaps be too visionary and comprehensive for the government; but the citizens would come to its aid in this as well as in benevolent institutions, and from the hearts of the populace a corps of volunteer amendment officials would arise, in which our noblest patriots would undoubtedly be associated. But I have no intention of discussing a subject upon which folios have been already written, and which you understand better than I. I only wished to give the motive for my actions; and your recent sneer," she added, in a slightly defiant tone, "has fully convinced me that you will at least consider these 'sanguine philanthropic ideas' in the mind of a fanciful young girl too harmless to put them on official record, so my examination is doubtless over."

"Not yet," said _Heinrich_, firmly. "Your ideas and language do not seem to me quite so harmless as you suppose. I cannot help desiring to obtain more exact information concerning the motives of your acts and the bearing of your influence. I must and shall find means to do so. You stand too proudly and firmly before me for me to be able to believe so implicitly in the purposelessness of your enthusiasm. I am a servant of the government; as such it is both a duty and a right to ask, 'Who are you? in what relations do you stand towards the prisoners? what is your object?'"

"Who I am I shall not tell you; in what relations I stand towards the prisoners and what influence I exert you can learn from themselves; as for my object, can you not understand it? I am making myself useful. Do you think it requires another and more important purpose to act as I have done?"

"Making yourself useful?" repeated _Heinrich_, thoughtfully. "Do you really imagine you are of much use here?"

"_How much_ is not for me to measure, I make myself as useful as I can. If every one only did this the world would be happier. It is not the success, but the will, that determines the value of an act. Vanity asks only about the result, honest purpose is satisfied with the doing."

"Indeed!" said _Heinrich_. "Are you so totally free from vanity?"

"Oh, no!" She suddenly burst into a merry laugh, and a ray of bright healthful enjoyment sparkled in her eyes. "I will not say that. God forbid that I should surround myself with a false halo. I am as vain as every other young girl; it is only where the sphere of my earnest labor is concerned that I am humble and modest, then my own person retires completely into the background, and I live solely to accomplish my purpose. But in the outside world, where I am least useful, I am vain, assuming, and selfish. I have often thought of this contradiction."

"I understand that," said _Heinrich_; "you feel small in comparison to your ideas and wishes, because like all gifted human beings you always desire more than you can accomplish. But when, outside of this sphere, you meet with commonplace, petty natures, you feel great, because you desire and accomplish so much more than they. Am I not right?"

The girl raised her eyes in astonishment, and looked at him earnestly. "You are right, and must have studied psychology more than one would have expected from a 'servant of the government.'"

"There is a singular blending of jest and earnest in your disposition," said _Heinrich_. "I have never before witnessed such rapid transitions from gay to grave and grave to gay in any one. Yes, I might really believe you followed only your own impulses without motive or purpose."

"Indeed, indeed you can! Believe me, I am doing nothing and want nothing, except to prove my love for mankind in every possible way. You seem to give me credit for political intrigues and dangerous connections. Oh, go to the prisoners, and convince yourself whether the spirit I instill is a revolutionary one or one of humility and repentance! By the manner in which I have taught these people to bear their misfortunes you will see whether my intentions are good and pure; and then you will give no information, but permit me to continue my office here, will you not?"

_Heinrich_ made no reply; he was gazing earnestly into the sparkling eyes of the suppliant. Suddenly he pointed to the nearest door. "Go in to the prisoner there,--unobserved; I will watch how you discharge the duties of your office and then decide."

The warder opened the door, and the young girl quietly entered. A shrill cry of joy greeted her. "Oh, Prison Fairy! dear Prison Fairy! have you come at last?" exclaimed a young man.

"Why does he call her that?" _Heinrich_ asked the turnkey, in a low tone.

"One of the prisoners gave her the name, and since then we have all called her by it, because we know no other, and this suits her so well."

"Oh, dear Fairy, I have passed another terrible night! So long as you are here I am as good as a child," continued the prisoner; "but when you go away, the old sorrow bursts forth again in all its fury. Oh, if I could go out into the world and satisfy the impulses of my own heart! Something might be made of me now, but after five years it will perhaps be too late. I felt that last night. True, the power to do evil may perhaps be broken in a ten years' imprisonment, but so is the strength to do well; and when I am sent out of this place, crippled in body and soul, an outcast from society, robbed of all civil honors and ability, it will get the dominion over me again. Then I shall be a mere idiot, who can no longer think of or feel anything except the greatness of his own misery; and for the assault I committed in a moment of passion, a twofold murder will have been practiced upon my body and soul during these ten years!"

"Albert, why are you in such a horrible mood to-day?" asked the young girl, in alarm. "You have not been so for a long time."

"Because I have been obliged to wait for you during so many painful hours; because I thought you were not coming again, and felt that in you alone is rooted the power which has upheld me for the last three years, that I should be lost if you remained away. No, I have not deserved this punishment."

"Albert, shall I repeat what I have always told you? Repeat it yourself."

"You said I was aware of the punishment, and voluntarily drew it upon myself by my crime, that I must bear what was the result of my own guilt; but I assure you again and again that if that terrible moment I had been sufficiently master of myself to be able to think, I should never have committed the crime; not from fear of the punishment, but of the sin."

"That excuses you in my eyes, but not in those of the law. Will you never be able to perceive that a man of such blind passions must be made harmless? Who will guarantee that the next instant, spite of all good resolutions, he may not be attacked by the same madness and commit a second murder?"

"Harmless! Yes, yes, I have been made harmless!" he groaned. "Why do you conjure up all the stings of conscience when I so greatly need consolation?"

"Because I see more clearly than ever that only the memory of your guilt makes your misery endurable; because you complain of the injustice of your punishment, and always become calmer when forced to acknowledge that, if not deserved, it was at least necessary and unfailing. And has not God sent a comfort to you in your sorrow,--a soul which understands you, which brings news of your beloved into your dungeon, and keeps the heart of your betrothed bride faithful to you? Is not this a divine mercy which can cheer you?"

"Yes, yes, I acknowledge the blessing, and for the sake of this mercy will strive and hope that I may procure for you the only reward you can receive, noble, wonderful creature!--the consciousness of having saved a soul!"

"Yes, my friend, give me that reward; it is the noblest gift which can be bestowed upon me for my efforts; and if I live to see the day when, purified and ennobled, you return to the world, I shall thank God more fervently than ever for having given me a heart to suffer with others, and also make them rejoice."

"And some day I will tell my children of the 'Prison Fairy!'" cried the young man, transported with hope.

Just at that moment _Heinrich_ appeared in the doorway. "Well, sir," said the young girl, "is any other motive needed for my conduct? Do you now believe that such a moment would outweigh years of fruitless toil?"

"I understand and believe you, for you are a perfect enthusiast," said _Heinrich_, seizing her hand.

"Do you call this enthusiasm?" she said. "If so, every great act of love, from Christ's down to our own times, has been enthusiasm, and nothing is true and real except enthusiasm and its results. I confess, sir, that if all mankind shared your views, I would rather live with my prisoners in this dungeon than in the outside world!"

_Heinrich_ gazed in astonishment at the proud, girlish figure, with the natural dignity of a pure, unshaken self-appreciation on the undaunted brow, and the alluring grace of true womanhood in the soft, undulating outlines of the whole frame; and an admiring reverence overwhelmed him, such as, for many a long year, no woman had inspired in his breast.

"Do not misunderstand me, Fraeulein. You take the word in a different sense from the one intended. Where enthusiasm is united to such energy as you possess, it has always accomplished the noblest deeds the world has ever known; but we usually give that name----"

"To what we have no power to feel ourselves," involuntarily interrupted the excited girl; and it seemed as if her glance rested sorrowfully upon _Heinrich's_ beautiful, expressive features.

_Heinrich_ stood speechless. He felt as if a burning brand had suddenly been cast into the dark recesses of his soul, and his spiritual eyes were following the light as it penetrated deeper and deeper.

Just at that moment the prisoner's voice interrupted his reverie.

"Pardon me, sir," he began, timidly, "have I not the honor of seeing Herr von Ottmar?"

"Albert!" exclaimed _Heinrich_, "is it really you? I thought I recognized you, but doubted it, because I should have expected to find you in a monastery rather than a dungeon, and besides, you are very much altered. How did you, of all the world, happen to be placed in such close confinement?"

"Oh, Herr von Ottmar, you were so kind to me at college, may I tell you the story of my misfortune?" said Albert, the person who had been at the Jesuit college with _Heinrich_, and of whom he had spoken in his interview with Severinus.

"Will you allow it, Fraeulein?" asked _Heinrich_.

"Certainly," replied the young girl, joyfully. "Perhaps the tragical history may for once arouse even in you the enthusiasm of compassion."

With these words she glanced at _Heinrich_ with a pleading, inexpressibly charming smile. The latter could not turn his eyes away from the wonderfully changeful face, but murmured, as if in assent, "Prison Fairy!"

Meantime Albert had commenced his story. At first _Heinrich_ gave it very little attention; gradually, however, he became attracted and listened eagerly, even anxiously. Albert related how, after being expelled from the order in the second year of his novitiate, he had for some time earned a scanty support, and at last lived several years as a tutor in the family of a wealthy German merchant. Six years before, this family removed from Italy to Germany, and in fact to the very capital where Ottmar had lived before his departure for N----. "There," said he, "I became acquainted with a young girl,--a girl who was really as pure and blooming as a rose. I had never loved a woman before,--the dark, ardent Italians were repulsive to my quiet nature,--but when I found the thoughtful, golden-haired German maiden, I clung to her with fervent affection. She loved me; and I, who had been tossed about the world from a child, was intoxicated by her tenderness, as if it were the aroma of some costly wine. I gradually neglected my pupils, my duty, and several times received censure; but in vain. Passion, so long repressed, was aroused, and locked me, the novice, completely within its magic circle.