FIFTEEN YEARS.
A PICTURE FROM THE LAST CENTURY.
BY
TALVI.
(MRS. THRfiSE ROBINSON.)
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON & COMPANY,
90, 92 & 94 GRAND STREET.
1871.




ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by
D. APPLETON & COMPANY,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.




PREFACE TO THE AMERICAN EDITION.
IT is my sad privilege to introduce this, the
last work of a beloved mother, to the American
public. Had she been spared to prepare it for the
press of this country herself, she would doubtless
have filled out many outlines and explained many
allusions which she deemed sufficient for the German reader, for whom the book was originally intended. It is not for my inexperienced hand to
supply the deficiency; I leave it to the reader to
do go from other sources. In conclusion, I would
state that I am indebted, for the admirable translation of the second and third poetical quotations in
the fifth chapter, to my highly-venerated friend
William C. Bryant, Esq., and take great pleasure
in here acknowledging his kindness.
MAeY A. ROBINSON.
NEW YORK, October, 1870.








DEDICATED
TO
MY BELOVED DAUGHTER
MARY.








CONTENTS.
CHAP.                        PAGE
I.-HUSBAND AND WIFE..     9
IT.-THE INFORMATOR...   34
III.-FOURTEEN YEARS AGO... 52
IV.-A PIETIST HOUSEHOLD... 78
V.-THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE..  99
VI.-ON TO THE GOAL....  116
VII.-A THUNDER-BOLT....  142
VIII.-AGATHA'S JOURNEY....  156
IX.-NEW TRIALS...     183
X.-SULTRY DAYS...   201
XI.-A NEW WORLD.... 211
XII.-DOMESTIC SCENES.       234
XIII.-THE DISCLOSURE.....  257
XIV.-CONCLUSION....  283








FIFTEEN YEARS.
A PICTURE FROM THE LAST CENTURY
CHAPTER I.
HUSBAND AND WIFE.
ABOUT one hundred and ten years ago, when Europe seemed on the point of sinking into a heavy
political sleep; when in England the struggle of the
two dynasties had been irrevocably decided; in France
the process of fermentation, from which a new order
of society was to be evolved, was as yet apparent to
no human eye; while Germany had only just been
roused, by the first daring deeds of King Frederick,
from its disgraceful self-degradation and unnationality to a certain degree of consciousness-a hundred
and ten or twenty years ago it was that the attention
of the courts, cabinets, and newspaper readers of Europe-for as yet there was not much question of the
people-was directed with peculiar interest toward
distant Sweden.
For it was there that, for some ten or twenty
years past, the most unheard-of occurrences had taken




10'FIFTEEN YEARS.
place, not, indeed, without the influence of foreign intriguing courts, but yet in true national development.
While the whole of the rest of Continental Europe
had, for the past century, been strengthening the power
of sovereign absolutism, and citizen and peasant submitted willingly to'the most arbitrary despotism of a
ruler, if, in so doing, they escaped the pressure of privileged classes, and had the satisfaction that squire
and knight were obliged to bow with them to the same
despotism —in Sweden, an overbearing nobility, in
league with a pharisaical clergy, had degraded the
royal authority to a mere p1hantom. Only the division
of these two orders, both acting with insolent arrogance, into two equally powerful parties, which; by
turns, weakly supported the throne or forcibly shook
it to its foundations, had preserved it from a complete
overthrow.
To the capital of this country, in the year 1755,
the same year which preceded the Seven Years' War,
I would carry my reader, while I present to him the
first scene of a family picture, which had that strangely
agitated time for a background.
Count Kronhelm, or, to call him by his full historical name, Count Balke Kronhelm, had only returned
about six years before to his much-distracted country.
He had spent half his life in travels; chiefly, however,
in France and Italy. A zealous friend of art, a ready
pupil of Voltaire and of the forerunners of the Encyclopedists, and thoroughly cosmopolitan, he had become completely estranged from his country, when
unforeseen circumstances, principally the necessary
taking possession of certain inherited estates, had




HUSBAND AND WIFE.             11
forced him to return thither, as he hoped, but for a
short time. He had found the condition of Sweden,
under the pressure of a thoroughly corrupted oligarchy of the nobility, still more hopeless than he had
feared. In fact, the count needed all his prudence, as
long as the poor old Hessian mock king remained
alive, to maintain his independence, and not to be
drawn into the ranks either of the fHats or the Caps,
as the two contending parties were called, both of
them quite as shameless enemies of popular freedom
as of royalty.
But when the new young king, who, just because
he found the count so little of a Swede, considered
him one of his natural supporters, met him with the
greatest confidence; when the queen, the sister of the
great Frederick, covered the countess his wife, who
was by birth a German, and a subject of her brother,
with distinctions, it became more and more difficult
for him to adhere to his resolution. Before he was
aware of it, he had given his promise to remain in the
country. At the solicitation of the king, he accepted
the position of lord-chamberlain, found himself drawn
into a whirl of intrigues and court festivities, and had
become accustomed to them before he was aware of it.
The evening on which our story opens, was one
appointed for a grand festival at court, an occasion of
special importance. The beautiful Countess Kronhelm sat at her toilet-table, preparing to attend the
assembly. Her long, rich, golden hair hung to the
carpet over her finely-shaped shoulders and her white
dressing-robe, like a protecting veil. Her maid had
just cleansed this precious ornament of Nature from




12               FIFTEEN YEARS.
all traces of the toilet and of fashion, had combed and
washed out every vestige. of powder and pomatumthis had been the work of hours-and- had thus prepared it for the new edifice which the court hairdresser was soon to construct of it.
In the middle of the last century, at which time,
as we know, the scene of this picture is laid, even persons of the cleanliest habits could not submit to such
a thorough purifying process more than two or three
times a week, except under very special circumstances. While the new artistic structure, for which
the maid had already prepared all manner of wirerolls and clean cushions, and brought from the closet
boxes of aigrettes, butterflies, artificial flowers, and
lace lappets, while this structure would need at least
four or five hours for its completion, even the preliminary preparations could not be effected in less than
three or four.
The countess had perhaps already passed that age
which can dispense with all ornament, for it is only
the first freshness of youth which may safely rely entirely upon Nature. Nevertheless, surrounded by her
golden veil, freed from all constraint of whalebone and
stiffly-starched pads and puffs, she looked so wondrously beautiful, that Ingeborg, her elderly maid, gazed
upon her a while almost in amazement. As the countess, merely for the pleasant sensation, took a widetoothed silver comb, and passed it lightly through her
front hair, the other could not help smiling.
" Your ladyship," said she, "looks like a mermaid
combing her golden hair! It will be a long while
yet before Monsieur Truchon arrives, for he has to.




HUSBAND AND WIFE.             13
make the grand rounds to-day, on account of the court.
ball. Shall I not send up the little counts to help pass
away your ladyship's time? They always want to
know, when I sing our old songs to them, how the
sea-nymph looked that enticed Duke Magnus into the
water.  The Stromkarl I can draw for them, well
enough; it is easy to get up such an ugly old troll,
with his green hair. But of the mermaid they couldn't
see a better picture than your ladyship, as you sit
there, so strangely beautiful, and so wistful and outlandish, just as if you had come from another world."
The countess laughed. "Well, well, Ingeborg,"
she said, " don't make a heathen monster of me. To
be sure, I am a foreigner, as you know; but, though our
hair may be a few shades darker than yours, I can assure you that we Germans are quite as good Christians as you Swedes. Let the dear boys be for the
present. I hear their cheery voices in the garden.
I don't wish to disturb them in their play. But my
daughter may come and read to me, as soon as M.
Truchon commences his tedious work. By that time,
I suppose, she will have finished her exercise. Give
me my book meanwhile, Ingeborg. You may leave
me, and attend to your other duties."
Ingeborg handed her the book, a volume of French
memoirs, which she had been reading with interest.
Now she sat for a long time with the open book in her
hand, but her thoughts were far away.
They were with her daughter. She had long felt
that the Frenchwoman-for fashion required a French
governess-who had charge of her was not the proper
person:for this position. For some time already the




14              FIFTEEN YEARS.
young girl had intellectually outgrown her. Caritas,
at fourteen, had a clear, inquiring mind. An innate
pride, inherited from her own father, combined with
the skeptic, philosophical trifling of her step-father,
which, though kindly, was but poorly adapted to young
persons, seemed to be developing in her with unexpected rapidity, the bud of a childlike simplicity into
a prematurely ripe flower.
The precaution had been taken to obtain, for the
young girl's education, a Calvinist governess from Geneva; not, however, without sundry objections on the
part of the Lutheran clergyman who was, as it were,
the confessor and keeper of the conscience of the
count's family, and whose influence could not be entirely evaded. This had been done in the hope of thus
guarding against either a frivolous Parisian or a bigoted Catholic. But the young woman who had been
sent from Geneva proved to be a shallow talker, in
whose empty head there was hardly room for a little
superficial school-learning, such as was common at the
time, joined to a still smaller store of half-digested
humanitarian views according to Rousseau. Years
had passed, and no opportunity had offered of supplying her place by a better person. As long as the
young girl had not become conscious of her own superioiity, things went on tolerably. But the more her
character developed, the more frequent and bitter became the little skirmishes between teacher and pupil,
and again and again the countess was obliged to interfere.
A short time since, however, when, one afternoon,
she had unexpectedly entered the room of the govern



HUSBA-ND AND WIFE.            15
ess, she had found her asleep on the sofa,-the  Chevalier de Faublas" in her hand, and, on examining the
books scattered about on the table, had discovered,
among other more harmless novels, the' Liaisons dangereuses." This brought matters to a crisis. The placid sleeper found herself awakened in a somewhat abrupt
manner, and, in the short conversation which followed,
the countess gave her warning. And now she was to
leave on the morrow, and her place was not yet filled.
For, of such French governesses as were to be found
in Stockholm, many a one had come to the country in
the capacity of milliner, or better fitted for the duties
of a lady's-maid than for educating the young, and
only the value placed upon a smattering of their language.had raised them to a higher position abroad.
Moreover, the countess had for a long time entertained a favorite idea, and still secretly hoped to carry it out, notwithstanding the opposition of her husband. She urgently desired to send her daughter to
Gnadenfrei, in Silesia, or to some other one of the female schools of the Moravian communion, so that she
might, under the supervision of the pious brethren and
sisters, grow up to be an humble Christian.
She herself had been brought up under the salutary influences of a fervent piety. She felt deeply
that, from the seed which her excellent mother had
implanted in her heart, had sprung the sheltering
palm-tree under whose roof alone she had, in former
days, found a sure refuge from the storms and tempests
of her youth, and which still afforded her protection
and consolation in hours of sorrow. For the fiery and
independent spirit of their beloved child, she deemed




1.6             E'FIFTEEN YEARS.
the mild rigor of these institutions particularly adapted,
in order to ripen it into a true Christian humility. In
this way, too, she would withdraw.her from the fanatic
zeal of the Swedish Church, which had retained all the
dogmatic inflexibility of Amsdorf and Flacius, and,
closed in its narrow path with high walls, between
which her beloved, inquiring child already now felt
as if in a prison. The religious instruction required
by law had commenced some time before, without
making any impression on the girl save that of ennui.
Only, at times, something would strike her as being
opposed to what her mother had taught her, when she
was a little child, living at her grandfather's in Wildeneck, when she used to put her to bed herself, and
every morning and evening would kneel down with
her, and lead her, as it were, into the familiar presence
of God and His Son. And now, when such contradictions occurred, she was indefatigable in her inquiries, and harassed her mother with questions, by which
the latter felt confused and oppressed. And at such
times she would feel almost conscience-stricken for having given that most important matter, the religious instruction of her child, into other hands than her own.
But what choice had she in her position as: the
wife of her husband? Then she would realize with
pain that no one can serve two masters; and the pain
was the deeper, as she had to confess to herself that
the service of the one, the world, had: hardly left
her the capacity of conducting such instruction with
a perfectly clear conscience.
It was from the influences of this seductive worldly
life as well, that the countess desired to withdraw her




HUSBAND AND WIFE.             17
daughter, at least until she had reached a more mature
age, and an education at Gnadenfrei seemed peculiarly adapted for steeling her against them. Here
in Stockholm, so near the agitated scenes of intricate
politics, and of the most excited passions, nothing but
extreme youth and the barrier of the nursery could
protect the daughter of the lord-chamberlain, and of
the declared friend and favorite of the queen, from
some contact with the intrigues of the world and
court.:Therefore, however painful might be the thought
of a separation from her darling child, she ardently
desired to send her to Gnadenfrei, and had for years
been laboring to execute this plan.
But the count her husband, considerate of her
wishes though he was in everything else, was decidedly opposed to this measure. Although he despised
the lifeless formalism of the Swedish Church, he found
it, after all, less insupportable than the subjectiveness
and the devout trifling of Zinzendorf's adherents. If
he suffered, indeed in his way even valued, the former
in his wife, it was only because he perceived her to be
entirely free from the latter. He was only Caritas's
step-father, but he was interested in her, and pleased
with her sprightliness and the activity of her mind,
and, before he had children of his own, had whiled
away many an hour with her. Even yet he fully intended to provide like a father for her and her future.
His free consent was therefore of the utmost importance to the countess, and she could the less take any
independent step with regard to her daughter's education, as her kindred, in whom the young girl might




18              FIFTEEN YEARS.
have found a support, had, on her father's side, become extinct, and, on that of her mother, grown estranged by long separation.
Thus she sat, lost in troubled thought, when, quite
unexpectedly, Count Kronhelm, her husband, entered
the room. A stranger would sooner have taken the
tall, gaunt figure, with its deeply-furrowed cheeks, for
the father of the fair Agatha, than for her husband.
And yet the count, with his noble bearing, clad in a
rich court-dress of satin embroidered with gold, with
thickly-powdered wig and chignon, was a man of fine
presence. In accordance with the custom then prevalent among the higher classes in Sweden, as well as in
Germany, he generally spoke French with his wife,
although he was quite familiar with German, and she
tolerably so with Swedish.
The unexpected visitor entered the room with a
polite apology for thus interfering with her toilet.
"Pardon this invasion," he said, but, as he looked at
her, he stopped, struck with admiration.'" Mfioi,"
he continued, "it is quite worth the while to commit a
sin, if it be thus rewarded. Have you conjured fiom
the skies the hair of Berenice, to deck yourself therewith, fair Agatha? And do you not fear," he went
on, in the bombastic tone of flattery which the period
sanctioned, while pointing to a small statue of Minerva that stood on the writing-table," do you not fear,
fairest of the fair, that you may awaken the envy of
the goddess, and meet Medusa's fate? "
He lifted the heavy golden veil of hair with an
elegant bow, and pressed it reverentially to his lips.
Agatha's countenance was covered with deep blushes.




HUSBAND AND WIFE.            19
Though she had been married ten years, she yet -felt
herself in many respects a complete stranger to the
count. She smiled rather constrainedly. She took
no pleasure in the amorous gallantry of her husband.
This foppish manner was not' becoming in a man of
his age. When she married him, already it had not
seemed suitable in'him, and although she had brought
him a heart- full of true affection, fervent gratitude,
and perfect esteem, yet she had skilfully contrived to
evade as much as possible all tender demonstrations
on his part. From the philosopher and man of the
world, indeed, she had had but little to suffer in this
respect. It was only since he had entered upon the
slippery path of the courtier, that he seemed at times
to wish thus to recall his youth, as it were.
With a dexterous grasp, Agatha quickly seized
the mass of her hair, twisted it skilfully into an: artistic knot, copied from the antique, and not from the
fashion of the day, and fastened it low at the back of
her head with the wide-toothed comb.  Then she
threw a black-silk mantle over her shoulders, saying:
" Monsieur Truchon keeps me waiting an unwarrantably long time to-day. He knows that we are all
his slaves. But, at all events, I must make myself
presentable when you grant me the favor of a visit.
Quite unexpectedly, too, at this hour, when I generally know you to be with the king."
"His majesty had a headache, and wished to
strengthen himself for the fatigues of this -evening by
a nap. No wonder that all this trouble makes his
head hot. Matters are growing worse and worse."




20              FIFTEEN YEARS.
"Has any thing new occurred?" asked Agatha,
full of interest.
"Nothing of importance..  We'll speak of that
another time.  When his majesty. dismissed me, I
employed the time in driving to the library and set-,
tling a matter concerning which I wished to speak
with you. I came home, and heard that you were at
your toilet. I proceeded to make mine, meanwhile,
in the hope of finding you also ready when I should
have finished. But I see," he added, smiling, "that
the Graces are not content with a few hours; they
lay claim to at least half a day."
"Do not impute this to me," replied the countess,
"but to the power of fashion, and of my duties at
court, from which I would gladly be released."
"Perhaps,'" rejoined the count, "your tyrannical
Monsieur Truchon will grant me yet a quarter of an
hour for speaking to you about a matter which I had
intended to submit to you before, only that it seemed
best not to trouble you with it until it was decided."
The countess looked at him inquiringly.
He sat down opposite her, was silent a while,
cleared his throat, and was evidently somewhat at a
loss for a beginning. At length he asked, "How old
is Caritas now?"
"She has just turned fourteen," answered her
mother, not without surprise.
"And the boys?-Eric? "
"Eight years and three months."
"And Axel?"
"Just fifteen months younger."




HUSBAND AND WIFE.             21
" Yes, that will just do. When is the Frenchwoman's time out? "
" To-morrow."
"And have you found another one in her place?"
"By no means, my dear sir," answered the countess, highly astonished. "I have repeatedly complained
to you of the difficulty I have had, here in the far
North, of finding a suitable person for Caritas's education, among a nation in which frivolity, superficiality,
impiety,: and immorality, prevail; and which, moreover, lets us foreigners have only what it cannot make
use of at home. You are aware, my friend, of my fervent desire to give my beloved child the benefits of a
truly pious education, and must remember how often I
have entreated you to permit me to send her to Gnadenfrei. God in heaven knows how painful it will be
for me to part with her! But what is my maternal tenderness when the salvation of her soul is concerned?"
A slightly-sarcastic smile played around the lips of
the count.
But his wife, without noticing it, continued, "The
fervor of this wish, my dear husband, gives me the
courage to ask you once again for your consent."
"What? " answered the lord-chamberlain, somewhat ir6nically; " and your two sons, do you not wish
to send them to Herrenhut or Niesky? What have
the poor boys done, that you would leave them on the
direct road to hell?"
" Do not misunderstand me intentionally. I do not
consider an education in the Moravian communion the
only road to salvation-merely the surest. The boys
are too young to be taken from their mother. I have




22              FIFTEEN YEARS.
no doubt that they can find the way to God even here,
if we both watch over them with united love and humble prayer."
"As far as the latter is concerned, fair Agatha, I
shall depend entirely upon you; you know how much
I myself count upon the wide cloak of your prayers
and penances, hidden under which you will suffer me,
poor sinner that I am, to slip through the gates of
heaven. But, joking aside, you may rest assured that
your plan for Caritas will never have my consent. And
you will thank me for this at some future day. The
girl's excellent head shall be filled with other things
than pietistic sermons and rhymes about the crowned
Lamb. Besides, it is too late. By your giving me the
rights of a father over her, Caritas has become a
Swede. Here in Sweden she will marry, and it is but
right that she should have a Swedish, or rather a cosmopolitan, education, for you know I think but little
of these romantic ideas of country and nationality.
You can trust me for not letting her grow up in the
manner customary to the nobility here-half rustic,
half frivolous. She is far too good for a mere housekeeper, or to serve as a means of support for an ignorant Frenchwoman; there you are right."
"And what must we do," asked Agatha, much cast
down, " to find the way which you think the proper
one?"
"As regards female education," replied the count,
"our century has retrograded terribly. The boy, the
young savage, should be tamed and softened by the
grace of female influence; the girl should be formed
by men. Italy, France, the Netherlands, have proved




HUSBAND AND WIFE.             23
what women can do. And your country, too, can show
names like Mesdames von Loser, and Friesen, and
Gersdorf, and whatever else all the Minervce Saxonicce, etc., are called. Only, that with the German ladies
there is always a slight tinge of bigotry brought into
play. Yes, indeed, you know well what is becoming
to you. No man ever likes a female infidel."
"Do you really believe that the spirit of coquetry
is introduced even into such holy things?"
The count smiled shrewdly, and continued: ("We
will discuss that another time, fair Agatha. As for my
present argument, you know that Sweden too is not
entirely in the shade. Queen Christina is a bright example. But, even nearer our day, we can cite Katherina Baath, and the wife of Antiquary Boenner-"
" What! -would you make a learned woman of our
little Carry?"
"And why not? If you, for the services of whose
toilet the three Graces are ever ready, will, with maternal kindness, lend one or the other of them to her to
wash the ink-spots from her fingers with Eau-de-Luce,
what will you say when I confess to you that I have
already engaged a teacher, that is, a tutor, in place of
a governess?"
" You are jesting, my friend."
"By no means.    And, like a good, economical
householder, I have considered my two boys no
less. in the matter. We ought long since to have
taken Eric away from the training of his old nurse,
and her old-fashioned fairy-tales, which you think so
poetic. Axel is just at an age to commence his mensa, mensce, mensam. Your Ingeborg has brought the




24              FIFTEEN YEARS.
little fellows safely through their A B C's and the
primer. The Frenchwoman has taught them to rattle off French pretty fluently; it is time now that an
able man should take them in hand."
" With regard to the boys, you may be right. But
Caritas?  Does it seem quite proper to you to intrust the education of a young girl, just entering upon
maidenhood, to a strange man? Decorum, it appears
to me, propriety-you know that our position at
court does not admit of my always being present at
her lessons. And if we have no governess m the
house-"
The count laughed aloud. "Indeed, I was not
prepared for that objection. Do you really take me
for a rash youth, who would, without much ado, throw
a fair flower of fifteen at the head of a young student,
or the like? Make yourself easy; we need have no
fear whatever of an Abelard and H6loise affair. The
tutor whom I have engaged for my children, and who
will arrive this evening-"
"This evening? To-night, already?"
" This tutor is not in the least dangerous. In the
first place, because he is nearly three times as old as
our Carry. Secondly, because he has been pretty
roughly dealt with by that bane of humanity, the
small-pox. Thirdly, because this seducer is one-eyed,
and can send forth but a one-sided volley of lovedarts with his glances. And, lastly, because this dangerous man, though of an herculean frame, has. unfortunately but one arm. You see, from this, that embracing is not exactly in his line, either. What do
you say now?   Does such an individual still seem




HUSBAND AND WIFE.            25
to you to be perilous to the virtue of your daughter?"
" But pray, explain to me-"
"Listen to me, then. For a long time past, when
visiting the library, I had noticed a tall, elderly man,
who was engaged in the Oriental division in writing,
and in the arranging of manuscripts - an athletic
figure, a commanding deportment, and his face so
dark that I took him for an Asiatic-the drollest contrast to the chalky face and flaxen wig of the librarian.
I had never made any particular inquiries concerning
him. I only knew that the librarian had brought him
from England, where he went last year in search
of some Danish documents, and that his diligent
labor had put order into the chaos of the Oriental
cases, where, until then, every thing had been topsyturvy.
"A few days ago, as I entered the hall, intending
to pass a leisure hour there, the librarian accosted
me, and asked if I did not know of some place, perhaps as translator in the diplomatic line, for a middleaged man conversant with a number of languages, and
otherwise talented; also a fine mathematician, and
thoroughly versed in literature, but very poor, and
persecuted by Fate. He had originally studied for
some profession, and then served in the Russian, or,
for aught I know, the Turkish army; had fallen into
captivity, and had acquired the Oriental languages
very thoroughly during a long sojourn in the East.
He was a German by birth, and accordingly, as it
were, a natural vehicle for every kind of erudition.
The librarian had made his acquaintance during his
2




26              FIFTEEN YEARS.
stay in London, where he was earning a scanty living
by teaching languages, principally Arabic and Persian.  As he himself had felt the Oriental manuscripts of the library to be a great burden-I believe
him, for the poor man can't read a word of them-he
had made this gentleman an offer to accompany him
to Stockholm, where he could put his knowledge of
languages to a more profitable use, for a year or two,
than in teaching. In an incredibly short time, he had
finished his task-by which he had proved, among
other things, his honesty and his disinterestedness, for
no one could have controlled him in it-and was now
again without any means of support. For this reason
he, the librarian, felt especially interested in obtaining
some position for Mr. Mannsfeld-that is his name. I
had him presented to me; for a poor man, of low
birth, he has tremendously proud ways, and just for
that I liked him. I entered into conversation with
him, and he told me that he had lost his left eye in
battle, as a Turkish officer; had been captured by
the enemy, and taken to Persia. There he fell into
the hands of Oriental scholars, and a new world of
knowledge was opened to him. But, at last, his innate warlike spirit got the better of him; he entered
the Persian service, and went with Shah Nadir's army
to India, where he met with another misfortune in losing his arm-an adventurous life, like a tale from the
Arabian Nights."
"After so varied experiences," remarked Agatha,
whose sympathy for her countryman had been roused
by the singularity of his adventures, " one would naturally expect a man to have rude manners. But, if




HUSBAND AND WIFE.             27
this were the case with Mr. Mannsfeld, you would not
have chosen him to be the tutor of your children, and
thus become a member of your family."
"You do me no more than justice. His manners
are simple, almost stern, but perfectly refined. Evidently he has grown up in the best society."
"And what finally brought him back to Europe?"
"Doubtless the natural craving of a civilized man
for the civilized world, although he will not admit it,
for he is eccentric. He is enthusiastic about the East,
but in England he found a new hobby. His chief desire, he says, was to acquire a thorough knowledge of
the English language, which he had studied in his
youth, and spoken a good deal in India. And how
do you suppose he went to work? Instead of making
use of the more modern English authors, whose taste
has been somewhat polished by the influence of
French literature, he took the pains of digging up
various old poets, whose works abound in barbarisms,
although there is no denying that they have some
genius. He claims to have discovered a particularly
rich mine of all that is beautiful and sublime in one old
poet named Shakespeare, who, as you may remember,
has already been mentioned by Voltaire, not, however,
without severe censure of his frequent want of taste.
As I said before, this Mannsfeld is a queer fellow."
"And a German," sighed the countess, thoughtfully, "a countryman of mine! And he is coming today, you said? "
" Certainly. When I proposed to him, day before
yesterday, to enter my house, as tutor of my children,
at a liberal salary, he hesitated. He said he was but




28               FIFTEEN YEARS.
little used to children, and feared that, although he
had gone through a university course, he was rather
behindhand in his knowledge of the dead languages.
But when I-told him the age of the boys, and that one
of his pupils was a girl, he thought himself that what
remained of his philological knowledge would be
quite sufficient for an elementary instruction.'I love
young people,'he said;''but I feel that I receive
more from them than I can give them. They illumine the night of my life with their morning light.
I can only cast shadows on their sunbeams.' Still, he
requested two days for considering the matter. Today he told me that he was ready to come, but only
on condition that he should not be bound, but be free
to give up the place at any time, while we too should
have perfect liberty to dismiss him whenever it suited
us. From this condition alone you can see, my dear
countess, that we have no common person to deal
with."
At this point the long conversation was interrupted'by the final arrival of the hair-dresser. The
countess would gladly have sent him away; her heart
was very heavy. She longed to be alone. She felt
as if she herself were standing at the opening of a
new period of her life, since her beloved child was
about to enter upon'one.
But Queen Ulrica, who far preferred her to all her
other ladies, had particularly requested her to be
present on this occasion. For she knew herself to
be surrounded by secret enemies, and though she was
obliged to experience every day that the upper nobility, and especially the wives of the senators, purposely




HUSBAND AND WIFE.            29
neglected her, in order to mortify and humiliate her,
she was aware that a gala-festival gave double opportunity for such slights. It was therefore important
that she should surround herself with a galaxy of
rank and beauty from her own party, and both the
royal couple and the party of the Caps, which at that
time sided with the court, could count the lordchamberlain and his wife among their most faithful
adherents.
Moreover, Agatha had for years been accustomed
to the constraint of court-life, and, during the eight
months which she spent in town, she submitted to it
conformably with her duty, as a necessity, only sighing in secret for the brief summer, which permitted
her to retire for a while to her peaceful country-seat.
Immediately after Monsieur Truchon, Caritas also
appeared, a tall, slender girl, without beauty, but
with a sharply-defined face, full of vivacity and intelligence. She brought her mother a French composition, which the countess laid aside, with the remark
that she would look it through.to-morrow. For, since
the discovery which we have mentioned, she herself
had taken charge of the young girl's most necessary
instruction, in order to keep her away from the governess as much as possible.
Caritas then took up a book, for her mother was
in the habit of having her read aloud to her in German while she was being operated upon by the great
capillary artist.  Thus she succeeded in putting a
curb, as it were, upon that inexhaustible talker and
scandal-monger, only an admonition as to how madame was to hold her head, or a question as to what




30              FIFTEEN YEARS.
she wished to wear, would now and then interrupt his
forced silence.
Caritas perceived at once that her dear mother's
thoughts were preoccupied; that she was out of spirits and absent.  She looked up stealthily several
times, as with girlish voice she read, very seriously,
Gellert's "On the Advantages of Discontent," but
after a few pages the book sunk from her hand, and
she said, with a sigh: " Oh, gracious mamma! how
tiresome Gellert is!"
The countess smiled. "Do you not like Gellert's
Fables?"
" Yes, they are good enough. I have translated
some of them into Swedish for Eric, and in rhymes,
mamma, and he likes them. Bfit there's not much in
them, after all. The German books are all tiresome,
mamma."
"That is judging too hastily, Carry! You have
read too few of them. You know we live so far
away, I have become a stranger in my own country.
In the ten years that have passed since we left it, our
language, so rich before, has developed still further.
There is said to be a great poet there now, who has
written a glorious book-a grand epic poem, that is
pronounced superior even to the (Henriade,' and at
any rate has a much sublimer subject, for it celebrates
our Saviour."
"Shall we not go to the beautiful mountains of
your and my home some day, dear mamma? "
The countess sighed, but did not answer. She
always spoke German with Carry. She loved her own
language for the sake of the precious one who had first




HUSBAND AND WIFE.             31
taught her to love it, and it was particularly on account of his memory that she did not wish the ties
between Carry and her native land to be entirely
broken. After fifteen years of separation, it was but
natural that his image should have withdrawn into
the background of her soul. But she considered it as
sacred. His features had become transfigured in her
memory into those of an ideal hero. The short three
months during which she had known him had passed
away like a blissful dream. They had been the elevating, soul-expanding poetry of her life, which lay like
an oasis amid the desert of the dull, mind-torpifying
prose of her childhood, and the exciting turmoil of her
riper years.
She often resolved to solemnly introduce Carry into
the shrine of her memories as soon as she should be
old enough; she longed for that time to come, for she
often felt fearfully alone. But, for the present, Carry
was nothing but a child to her.
When M. Truchon had finished, she kissed the
girl, and dismissed her. Evening was approaching,
and she had to think of the completion of her toilet.
After the principal piece of work, the head-dress, had
been accomplished, and her dainty feet were encased
in gold-embroidered satin slippers, she sat a long time
with a silk loose gown thrown around her, making herself entirely ready, hoping that the tutor might arrive
before the necessary occupation with her dress would
prevent her receiving him.
The position of a tutor, or, as he was often called
on the Continent in the middle of the last century, an
informator, was at that time but little higher in the




32              FIFTEEN YEARS.
eyes of the German nobility than that of a valet. The
humble, cringing behavior of the school of Francke,
from which the young theologians to whom parents
liked to intrust their children were principally chosen,
contributed not a little to this. But neither Count
Kronhelm nor his wife entertained these views. The
teachers of her children were of the highest importance to Agatha, and this one in particular-an unfortunate man, and a countryman of hers too!-but
she could wait no longer. She was fully arrayed and
her sedan-chair was already at the door, when she was
told that Mr. Mannsfeld, the new tutor, had arrived.
Ingeborg will show him his room," she said, "but I
will see him for a moment, at any rate."
The countess shone in the greatest splendor of her
beauty, her rich attire outwardly, and inwardly the
agitation of her feelings, which gave double lustre to
her eyes, uniting to her advantage. But even without this agitation her cheeks could have dispensed
with the artificial color which the custom of the court
required. The imperious fashion of the time, of setting off the complexion by the contrast of black beautyspots, she followed but moderately, and only a single
little flying Cupid, hardly large enough to cover a
child's nail of the smallest size, might be noticed between the lower part of the left cheek and the chin, in
a hovering attitude, as if about to seek a pleasant refuge in the dimple of the latter. For her noble; dazzlingly-white forehead, even the mighty structure of
thickly-powdered hair did not seem too high, surmounted though it was by tall plumes, while strings
of costly pearls seemed to restrain the overflowing




HUSBAND AND WIFE.             33
wealth of her beautiful hair. A white satin skirt, bordered with silver, fell down upon the glistening shoebuckles, and only peeped out as a narrow stripe from
beneath the heavy overdress of blue and gold brocade,
which, falling in ample folds over the wide hoop, was
gathered under a deep point in front, and ended behind
in a long, stately train. But nothing could be more
perfect than the bust of the countess-the slender
throat, the sloping shoulders, white as the purest marble, the bosom chastely veiled by lace and gauze.
Among the sparkling gems of the necklace there
peeped out, in strange contrast, a small black cord, of
which the wicked world said that there must be some
amulet attached to it, for the countess never left it off,
either in court or home dress. None the less perfect
were the round, alabaster-like arms, and of them, too,
there was no more to be seen than shone through the
delicate lace which hung from the elbows, for richlyembroidered gloves covered them up to at least three
inches above the wrist, and left only a small strip of
the glossy skin visible.
Thus she stood in the centre of the brilliantlylighted room, when the servant opened the door, and,
with the words " Mr. Mannsfeld, your ladyship!" ushered in the stranger.




CHAPTER II.
THE   I   FOR MATOR.
A TALL, martial figure stood before her; a man
who, though one could see at the first glance that his
youth was long past, was quite as evidently still in
possession of his full manly vigor. He wore a simple
coat of dark-green cloth, buttoned to the throat, without ruffles either at the bosom or the wrists. A black
military stock matched the stern simplicity of his
whole appearance. In the black-silk sling which hung
from his right shoulder, there rested a mutilated arm.
His complexion was so dark that the ravages which
the small-pox had made upon his skin were hardly apparent. His hair, thick and black, was plentifully
mixed with white threads. A broad scar, evidently
of long standing, extended across the high, arched
forehead, over the aquiline nose, to the left eye, which
was covered with a black patch. The extreme thinness of the face gave a certain sharpness to its forms.
There was a great deal of depth and character, but at
the same time an indescribable melancholy in these
features, upon which the storms of life had left indelible traces.
"Madame has commanded," he said, in French,
with a low bow.




THE INFORMATOR.              35
The countess answered him in German: "I am
glad, my dear sir," she said, in the sweetest tones of
her voice, "to see you in my house, and all the more
so, as I welcome in you a countryman. I regret exceedingly," she continued, perceiving that he regarded her with bewilderment, " that I can see you but
for a moment to-day. The tutor of my children is for
me a person of so much importance, that I would
gladly remain at home, if it were only a matter of
sacrificing a pleasure; but my duty calls me. I am
obliged to go to court."
As she spoke, she noticed, not without embarrassment, that the stranger stared at her wildly; indeed,
it even appeared to her as if his look were fixed upon
her with terror. She paused, in the expectation of a
reply from him. But she merely saw him open his
lips twice, yet no sound reached her ear, while every
vestige of color left his cheeks; it seemed as if the
gray face of a corpse were gazing upon her.
Suddenly he advanced a step; his tall form tottered. He seized the back of a chair, and supported
himself by it.
"Excuse me, madame," he said, with shaking
voice, " I am ill. It is the language of my home-it
must be the surprise of hearing my own language
again after so many years, which unmans me so-I
did not know-"
"Be seated, sir," she said, with compassionate
kindness, " how your surprise touches me!"
He sank down upon the chair which she pushed
toward him, and covered his face with his hand.
"So you were not aware that you would find a




36              FIFTEEN YEARS.
German in me? Oh, I can well understand your
being surprised and startled. Our native land always
remains dear to us!-And is it so long since-  Do
you feel faint? Pray drink some water."
Full of heart-felt sympathy, she came close to him,
and offered him a glass of water. He looked at her
again, ghastly pale, with bloodless lips. There was
insanity in that look.
Terrified, she stepped back.  Involuntarily she
raised her hand to grasp the small bell which stood
upon the table.
It was probably this movement which gave the
unhappy man sufficient force to recover himself. He
rose, and, though his face was still deathly pale, he
said, hurriedly: "Grant me forgiveness, madame, for
this unfortunate introduction. I ought never to have
left my cell. It was your language, yes, it must have
been your language, which called up, with fearful
power from the dark night of, my past, one of the
most heart-rending memories of my unhappy life,
and nearly robbed me of my senses. I am ashamed of
my weakness."
"By no means, my dear Mr. Mannsfeld.    Why
should you be ashamed of being ill, of being unfortunate? Would that you might find, in my house,
the rest you need!-that it might become the haven
of your tempestitossed life!"
He stood before her erect, firm, pale, with. downcast look, hardly hearing what she said, listening only
to the tone of her voice.
"Now," she continued, "you need rest above all
things. To-morrow I will present my children to you.




THE INFORIATOR.              37
For to-night I can provide you only with the most
necessary comforts, as your arrival was a surprise to
me too.   To-morrow I will make better arrangements."
She rang the bell, and, as Ingeborg entered, recommended the stranger to her special care. "The
gentleman is unwell," she said; "be sure that he has
some good tea, and that his room is not too warm.
-Good-night, my dear sir! I shall see you again in
the morning. I trust you will sleep well; you are
among friends, and God is everywhere, you know."
When she was alone, she'said to herself: "What
a strange scene! I am inexpressibly sorry for.the poor
man! And yet he does not look as if he would like
to be an object -of pity. It is a horrible idea, but I
cannot help thinking that the wretched man must
have been out of his mind at some time. His look
was fearful! And still his eye is beautiful, it is full
of soul. When he became more composed, that eye
looked at me as from another world."
But the countess had no time for giving way to
her thoughts. The sedan-chairs were waiting, it was
late.  The divisions at court, over which etiquette
and the manners of society'cast but a thin veil, soon
laid claim to all her interest and all her sympathy for
the grievously-injured royal couple.
During the past winter the parties had taken the
occasion of these assemblies to exhibit their mutual
feeling in'-its full force. The wives of the senators,
Counts Scheffer and Hopner, had been refused the
entry into the inner court of the palace, for their carriages, as they drove to a gala-festival. Not without




38              FIFTEEN YEARS.
reason, this measure had been attributed to the influence of the queen, who saw in the claim to this right,
until then reserved for the royal house alone, an invasion of the privileges of the latter. The injured
pride of the two ladies had its echo the next morning
in the stormy transactions of the senate. The colonel
of the guard was cited, declared the matter to have
been a mistake, and, on the demand of the offended
magnates, caused the sergeant, who had acted by
royal order, to be arrested.
But this at length put an end to the endurance
of the weak king. Still smarting, as it were, under
the bitter humiliations to which he and his wife had
only recently been forced to submit, he now showed
the senate and estates that, at least in his own house,
he intended still to be master. The sergeant had to
be released, and the gates of the inner court remained
closed.
But the queen could only half enjoy this rare
victory. The court assemblies did not seem to succeed that whole winter.  The ladies of the Hats
among the senators, and all who were under their influence, withdrew on the most trivial grounds, and the
manner of the ladies of the Caps showed that they
felt their own honor attainted in that of their enemies.
To-night it was, at the first opening assembly of
the present winter, that an attempt, initiated by mediating courtiers and various conciliatory measures,
was to be made to clear the atmosphere. But Agatha, as soon as she entered the room, felt the heaviness of the air and the coming storm. Women of the
higher classes possess an unfortunate art of showing,




THE INFORMATOR.             39
without words or any direct violation of propriety, a
certain contempt, a certain disdain. The how and
the what of it can hardly be defined in words.
The queen entered the room, leaning on the king's
arm, and, as she was in the habit of doing, went the
rounds among the ladies, before seating herself at the
card-table, addressing, with forced affability to-night,
a gracious word to each one. But Agatha noticed
how the venomous looks which measured her on one
side, the lurking eyes which observed her on the
other, drove the hot blood more and more into her
cheeks, until gradually her features showed a feverish
irritation, and her eye darkened.
When she reached Agatha, she suddenly, against
her custom, commenced speaking German to her in a
loud voice. For, although she did not mutilate her
native tongue to the degree that her brother, the great
Frederick, did; yet, like all princesses of the time, she
spoke French much more fluently, and had never previously used any other language with Agatha. But
now her object was to punish the proud Countess Fersen, who understood no German, for her overbearing
demeanor. After she had for some minutes, with intentional familiarity, questioned Agatha on indifferent
subjects, and listened absently to her answers, while
the rouged cheeks of the Countess Fersen burned with
rage, and her whole face became purple, she merely
passed the latter with the remark, " Ah, comtesse, comme vous 9tes 6chauffe! " and then addressed some gracious words to the next lady. But Agatha felt how
painfully the poor queen suffered from this comedy.
Later, as she watched her at the card-table, where she




40               FIFTEEN YEARS.
sat at'ho/mbre, with the French and Russian ministers, and, with a constrained smile, was dealing the
cards, she thought she could distinctly see her force
back her tears, and heard her complaining that another
bad cold was coming upon her, which caused her eyes
to swell and water, and how subject every one was to
colds in the raw climate of Sweden.
Amid such annoyances -the evening passed. The
countess came home late,' discussed with her husband
every thing she had noticed, whereupon he communicated to her the result of his own observations; until, at last tired out, she went to rest without bestowing another thought on the poor tutor.
She soon sunk into a deep, sound sleep. A sweet
dream removed her for some hours from the perplexing present. It carried her back to her happy, guileless
youth, to the most blissful period of her life, the year
of her first love and marriage. With a reality that
seemed tangible, her venerable parents stood beforeher, laying their hands in blessing upon the myrtlewreathed head of her who knelt at their feet. She
heard the church-bells, whose familiar sound summoned
her to the most solemn act of her life. With vivid,
clear'distinctness, she beheld once more, for the first
time in many years, the form of the adored one whom,
as she thought, God had destined to be her guide
through life. She felt the pressure of his hand, the
beam of his eye warmed -her soul. She heard the
voice of the servant of God, who bound her existence
to his in sacred irrevocability. When, already halfawake, she still lay for a long time wrapped in the
after-feeling of-a dreamy happiness. It was only




THE INFORMATOR.             41
when Ingeborg entered, partially opened the shutters,
and then softly drew back the curtains of the bed,
that she entirely recovered herself.
She sighed deeply, heavily.
" 0 Ingeborg," she said, "is it you? I have had
such. a strange dream! Can it be possible that all
that is over, long, long ago? Nothing but the golden clouds of a rosy morn!-But no matter," she continued, raising herself, "no matter! The day has its
claims.-Tell me, how fares the poor tutor? Did he
recover soon? Was he no worse?"
Ingeborg shook her head dubiously. " I am afraid
monsieur the count will find he's made a bad job of it
with that gentleman."
"How so? did he sleep so badly?"
"He sleep, indeed! He has not touched his bed;
all night long he marched up and down the room.
David sleeps just under him. He had the toothache,
and lay awake, and he says he heard him walking
about all night. Then he threw open all the windows, and early this morning he went off, and no one
has seen him since. When I took up his coffee, at
eight o'clock, I knocked for a long time, but all in vain.
The bird had flown. The cage was empty."
"Very strange!" said the countess, and the alarming idea that her husband had involved himself with
an insane person again presented itself to her mind.
"But meanwhile," continued Ingeborg, " his things
arrived last night-a little trunk, no larger than the
box in which Jean keeps monsieur the count's new wig.
David and Sven made all kinds of foolish jokes about
it when they carried the little thing, that was as light




42              FIFTEEN YEARS.
as a feather, up-stairs. David, who is all the time
peeping into the young count's school-books, wanted
to show his learning, and said:'Here's the genuine
King Crcesus come to the house. Won't he spend
his money! There'll be a perfect shower of ducats. I
know that by the weight of the trunk."'
"And if," replied the countess, with dignity,
"these valets measure the worth of a man by the
presents they hope to receive from him, how does it
happen that you, Ingeborg, communicate their talk to
me?"
"Your ladyship will excuse me," answered the
woman, reddening; "your ladyship knows that I am
no tattler; but I thought, in my ignorance, that it
would be better that madame should know all that
may be said about the strange gentleman before she
trusted him with her best treasures."
"You are right, Ingeborg; but my husband, who
is an excellent judge of human nature, and knows a
thousand times more about the world than you or I,
has sufficiently examined the new tutor.  A man's
being poor or rich does not lower or increase his worth.
Mr. Mannsfeld has come here from distant countries.
Great travellers never burden themselves with much
baggage. He had no intention of remaining in Sweden, and is only on travelling-footing. You will oblige
me by explaining this to the servants."
At breakfast the countess related to her husband
the singular manner in which his proteg7 had introduced himself the evening before; and how, after a
night without rest, he had disappeared again. The
count was evidently unpleasantly impressed; but aside




THE INFORMATOR.             43
from his rarely being willing to admit that he had
made a mistake, he had also long since adopted the
nil admirari of the ancient philosophers as one of his
principles. He understood every thing, could explain
every thing, and was much given to dogmatizing.
"It is not to be wondered at," he said, "that a
man who has spent many years of his life under circumstances which have entirely estranged him from refined society, should feel dismayed at suddenly finding
himself in- the presence of a beautiful woman of high
station. Besides, you were in your most brilliant attire, and it cannot be doubted that philosophy alone
can make us insensible to brilliancy and splendor.
The rude human being, or what in this case amounts
to the same thing, the human being disused to higher
civilization, is impressed by them. Only think of the
imposing effect of the ceremonies of the Catholic
Church upon the masses."
The countess did not exactly see the force of the
argument. She smiled incredulously.
"And how do you explain his sudden disappearance this morning? "
" Why, I told you he was an original sort of Rousseau, whom your charms will gradually tame. Of
course, he is ashamed of his childish behavior. If he
were tractable, humble, submissive, he would try to
excuse his awkwardness; but he is too proud, too
stubborn, for that. He runs away to save himself this
fancied humiliation. A true Rousseau! I should not
be surprised if he did not come back at all, and then,
ma ch~re, we will take no further notice of him."
These last words' showed but too plainly that the




44               FIFTEEN YEARS.
count was vexed at the conduct of his proteg#. He
turned the conversation upon the entangled affairs of
the court; and the countess took good care not to
mention poor Mannsfeld again. About noon the count
received a letter from the latter, in which he endeavored, in the politest yet at the same time most dignified terms, to excuse his improper behavior by giving
as its cause an attack of sudden physical pain to
which he was subject occasionally.
" Your excellency knows," he added, "that it was
your generous encouragement which made me presume
once more to venture into a world from which I have
become entirely estranged. Your kindness will grant
me one more day of entire solitude, and, in case you
pardon me yourself, will obtain for me the pardon of
the countess; to-morrow I shall have the honor of presenting myself to you, ready for the fulfilment of my
duties. And it will only depend upon you to decide
whether you still think me worthy of entering upon
them."
The count, who saw in this letter a confirmation
of his remarks, was therefore all the more willing to
forgive this singular character, who had lived too long
exclusively for himself, to possess that degree of selfcontrol which only philosophy and intercourse with
his fellow-men could give. Agatha was silent, but her
husband's resolve to intrust the education of their
children to a man who lacked this self-control, surprised her. She soon saw, however, that her anxiety
was needless.
The next morning the tutor really made his appearance; and Agatha hardly recognized in the cold,




THE INFORMATOR.              45
calm mien of the stranger her guest of the other evening. Every trace of the piquant significance of his
haggard face had vanished. His cheeks were still more
hollow and furrowed than before. It seemed as if he
had grown several years older during the last two
nights. His look was almost sullen. He did not repeat his excuses, but merely asked whether the count
still desired his services. While the latter explained
to him his system of education, which, like all the
count's wisdom, was based upon the shallow philosophy of the Encyclopedists, he listened to him with cold
politeness, and without answering a word. After the
other had finished, he answered: "Your excellency
knows very well that man is educated at home and in
the world. I have only agreed to teach your children,
and that I will do according to my honest judgment
and to the best of my ability."
The countess had no system of education to recommend, for she had formed none, except that she felt
that religion ought to be the foundation; but her long
companionship with her husband, a freethinker, had
made her reserved in speaking on such subjects with
strangers, particularly when, as in this case, she believed she had grounds for suspicion. After the count
had left, she merely said: " I, too, dear Mr. Mannsfeld,
should like to impress upon you something concerning
the management of my children; but, unlearned as I
am myself, there can be no question of a system of education. There is but one wish which I would express
to you, and that is, that you might love my children."
She expected an answer, but he sat silent and stiff
before her, his eye turned on the ground.




46               FIFTEEN YEARS.
"I will call the children now," she said at last,
rising.  She dreaded the meeting. "What impression will this sombre recluse, this stiff, cold misanthrope make upon those young creatures so brimful of
love? It seems to me as if I were about to throw ice
and snow upon my tender buds,"
But the introduction, for which the children were
already prepared, passed off much better than she had
feared. The little boys, indeed, looked up somewhat
abashed at the stranger with the proud martial bearing; but their fancy had already connected the man
from the far East, who was to be their tutor, with the
tales of the Arabian Nights, from which their governess had taught them French, and they were quite prepared to find their new tutor an extraordinary person.
But particularly with Caritas the acquaintance began in the most favorable manner. The young girl
had heard with delight that, by her step-father's desire, she was to receive a liberal education, and be
taught like a boy. As she turned upon the stranger
her clear, honest, intelligent eyes, and gave him her
hand in greeting, it seemed as if an electric spark ran
through him. He retained her hand, and asked, in a
low, hardly-audible voice: "What is your name, mademoiselle?"
"Caritas," she replied, " Caritas von JHohenhorst."
And, as a slight start on the part of the stranger
seemed to indicate that he was surprised at her not
bearing the name of Kronhelm, she added: "Count
Kronhelm is only my step-father, but he is very good
to me. My mamma says I ought to love him as if
he were my own father."




THE INFORMATOR.              47
Mannsfeld dropped her hand. "That is right," he
said, emphatically.
The instruction of the children commenced the
same day, and Agatha soon convinced herself that her
fears had been unfounded.  For, not a week had
passed before she saw the boys attached, heart and
soul, to their new tutor, who directed their games as
well as their studies, and was as much at home in
chivalrous exercises as in the sciences. His requirements seemed often almost beyond their years; but
the narration of a personal Oriental adventure, the
description of a caravan, a lion-hunt, or the like, was
the stimulus and the reward of their exertions.  But
for Caritas especially a new life had commenced. She
studied with enthusiastic ardor, and her whole manner
brightened, her serious look became more cheerful,
as gradually the curtain of an unknown but long-desired, long-yearned-for world rose before her.
The esteem of the count, too, for his singularprotkg6, was evidently heightened on nearer acquaintance, which, however, did not progress rapidly. For,
much occupied as he was at court and by political
affairs, he did not see much of the tutor, although in
the beginning he observed him closely in secret. He
had ascertained from the librarian that, on the morning on which Mannsfeld had left his house so unceremoniously, he had come to the library in such a state
of excitement that he had appeared like an entirely different person-not a trace of that stoic calm
which he had probably artificially acquired in the
East. He had declared that he had been too precipitate in giving the count his promise; the state of




48               FIFTEEN YEARS.
his health rendered him incapable of again appearing
in the world; he was a ruin, a cripple; he was decidedly unfit for any intercourse with women, to whom
the sight of him must be disgusting; he hated women,
he hated- the world-and other similar expressions,
incoherently uttered in anger and bitterness. Mingled with them were inquiries about the count's family
circumstances; while formerly nothing had seemed
to interest him but his literary labors, he had now, all
at once, wanted to know every thing. How it was
that he had-subsequently concluded to come, after all,
the librarian could not tell; for that his own persuasions had been of no avail, he himself acknowledged.
Whenever Count Kronhelm's engagements admitted, he liked to converse with Mr. Mannsfeld, for,
although his tone, as far as the manners of society
allowed, was always politely instructive, yet he readily
perceived that he too could learn something from this
man, who, though younger than he, was even a greater
traveller, and evidently a thinker. And, in spite of
his tone, the count still liked to learn, and, with- all his
self-sufficiency, could bear contradiction.
And Agatha enjoyed listening to the conversation
of the two, for, as they never had the same ideas upon
any subject, but always expressed different views, she
had the advantage of hearing a question discussed
from two sides, and could decide it for herself. But,
if she ever joined in the conversation, she could be
certain that Mr. Mannsfeld, apparently with diffident
respect, would withdraw from it.  "He is a misogynist," the count would say, " perhaps in consequence
of bitter experience; it may be, too, because he feels




THE INFORMATOR.             49
that he has no longer the power to please women.
And thus only could the countess explain his shy,
reserved manner toward her, which all her winning
kindness and cordiality could not overcome; and the
insupportable abruptness of which, indeed, seemed
rather to increase than diminish with time. When
she expressed her annoyance at this to her husband,
he would -laugh, and say: "You know, fair Agatha,
that Nature.has given many a miserable little worm
its sting; what else has the poor man to defend himself against your charms? " or, " You must remember
that the unfortunate man has but one eye, and therefore can only half see your beauty;" or he would ward
off her complaint with some other courteous joke of
the kind.
But Agatha felt this peculiar situation with some
bitterness. It was a matter of still greater irritation
to her, however, that in this way, little by little, she
lost the influence over her children's education which
she considered her maternal prerogative. The ancient
languages, as well as the mathematical studies, she was
not familiar with; she could not, therefore, pretend to
any interference with Mr. Mannsfeld's instruction.
But she- claimed her share, not only in the moral culture of her children, but also in their mental development, and from that he excluded her, without any apparent intention, in an unaccountable manner.
Unfortunately, the poor countess had at the moment but little time to counteract this unnatural estrangement. For, at court, the tangled threads seemed
to grow more and more knotted. The queen required
consolation and encouragement, and with the Countess
3




50              FIFTEEN YEARS.
Kronhelm, by birth the subject of her beloved brother,
she hopedjust now to find more sympathy than with
any of her Swedish ladies. The net, which the vengeance
of the deeply-injured empress-queen, Maria Theresa, had
gradually woven around the apparently-sleeping lion,
was contracting more and more. Nearly all the smaller
states of Germany, France, and Russia, had combined
their intrigues against him, and to secure Sweden,
through the influence of the Hats, was now the press.
ing question. Already the king, worked upon this time
in unison by the hirelings of France and Russia, was
half won over; the queen, but feebly supported by a
portion of the Caps, worked indefatigably in opposition.
Irritated by a thousand vexations and annoyances, an
hour of confidence, in which she could pour out her
heart and abuse her adversaries, did her good. Agatha,
although she looked upon:the great king as her own
worst enemy whose severity and unjust anger had
robbed her,young life of its best happiness, was yet
generous enough to sympathize with the queen. Moreover, she had been fully instructed by her husband as
to the folly and wickedness of any participation of
Sweden in this war. She -therefore magnanimously
crowded her own troubles into the background of her
soul, and only looked forward with increased longing
to the summer, when she would once more be mistress
of her time. For, during the short fine season which
the far North grants, she was' accustomed, as has already been mentioned, to retire with her children to a
quiet country-seat:on the southern shore of Suedermannland, while her husband, as lord-chamberlain,
was obliged to follow the court to the different royal




THE INFORMATOR.              51
villas and hunting-seats. Here, for the chAteau lay
isolated and far from any neighbors, she could live
entirely at her leisure and for her children, while
the count only visited her now and then, always sure
of a cordial reception from his beautiful wife. " Only
a few months yet," she would say to herself, " and that
happy time will be here again. Then I shall reconquer the lost field, and I shall venture every thing to
overcome the strange foe who threatens to supplant
me in the hearts of my children."




CHAPTER IIL
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.
To render Agatha's position intelligible to the
reader, I must take him back fourteen long years.
The momentous night of December, which in 1741
was to prepare a new change of rulers for the Russian
people, had already spread its raw, foggy darkness
over the imperial city of the North, when, in one of
the spacious antechambers of the Winter Palace, a
young officer was pacing to and fro, lost in thought.
He was expecting the courier who, at midnight,
was to start for Germany, to carry thither the letters of
the imperial highnesses. For, a hundred and twenty
years ago, the common mail travelled but slowly, and
high personages and those dependent on them gladly
availed themselves of the government couriers for
their private affairs as well.
The regent, Anna of Mecklenburg, once convinced
that she had no longer any thing to fear from the vengeance of General Minnich, whom she had rewarded
with ingratitude, and the dread of whom had led her
and her weak-minded husband to change their sleeping-apartment every night during the previous spring,




FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.            53
had passed the summer in brainless, loitering security.
Completely estranged from her husband, whom she
had long despised, given to criminal, amorous pleasures, avoiding every energetic act from physical as
well as mental indolence, she paid no attention to the
warnings of those whose interests were interwoven
with her own. Before Miinnich, the enraged lion, she
had trembled; the idea of trembling before her cousin Elizabeth, a weak, sensual woman like herself, was
too new to her to find easy access into her stubborn
head, which could only harbor its accustomed round
of empty thoughts.
Had she not seen her, ousted as she had been, occupying, from her youth upward, quite an inferior position under her aunt, the Empress Anna? And did
she not know of her being too much absorbed in loveintrigues to think much about the throne?
And on this day particularly the regent believed herself perfectly secure. Warned most urgently by a secret
letter, had she not, leaving the card-table and beckoning
the czarevna to join her in her boudoir, herself called
her to account? And had not the princess, on her loading her with reproaches, assured her of her innocence
with many tears, and sworn, by all that was sacred, that
she knew nothing of secret plans? Therefore, when even
her husband, on retiring, had expressed some concern,
and thought it advisable to have L'Estocq, the confidant of the princess, arrested, and cause sentinels to
be stationed at certain posts, she would not listen to
him, and easily quieted the weak duke, by describing
to him the scene she had just had with the czarevna.
And yet she herself was often not free from the




54              FIFTEEN YEARS.
inner consciousness of an approaching danger-particularly when some bad dream had disturbed her, or
some slight circumstance occurred, which, according
to the wide range of superstition common- to the Russian women of the time, could be looked upon as an
evil omen. And if it were to be, what could she: do
against it? she would ask, with the entire resignation
of a true-Slavic-Oriental fatalism.  On one occasion
she accidentally stepped upon Elizabeth's dress, entangled her feet in its train, and fell to the ground
before the princess.  "Mark my words," she said,
with a sigh, to her confidante, "I shall yet be forced
to humble myself before that Elizabeth "  And then
she would picture, with gloomy loquaciousness, how
she should behave as an unfortunate princess. But
she had neither energy nor shrewdness enough to
take the first step toward averting such a fate from
herself.
With Duke Anton Ulrich, her husband, she was
for the moment once more on tolerably good terms.
During the temporary absence of her lover, the handsome Count Lynar, after having secured him: for the
future by a convenient contrivance, her apartment
was again open to the easily-conciliated duke.  In
the adjoining room the imperial: prince: slept with his
nurse; the third was occupied by the little Princess
Catharine, her wet-nurse, and- the lady who had
charge of the grand-ducal children, Juliana von
Mengden,
These three apartments all opened upon the anteroom in which the above-mentioned young officer was
on guard.: In the passage outside the room, a sentinel




FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.            55
of the same regiment was pacing to and fro. Besides
the latter, numerous sentinels were stationed at the
outer entrances of the palace, and the regular guardroom at the main entrance was filled with soldiers.
The officer in question was a: German, and his
name was Moritz von Hohenhorst. It was hardly
two weeks since he had entered the imperial service;
little more than a month since he had arrived in the
northern capital, a despairing fugitive, nearly destitute, torn from a beloved. young wife, having barely
escaped a dishonorable death-he, one of the conquerors of Glogau, one of the victors at Mollwitz! In a
moment of wrongfully-irritated passion, he had lifted
his hand against his superior.. In avenging his honor,
the unhappy man had forever closed against himself
the path of fame in his native land.
Death alone could expiate so heavy an offence
against discipline, aggravated as it was by the circumstance of its having been committed in the midst
of war.
The grateful affection of one of his subalterns had
saved him. He had escaped by a miracle. But the
thorn was still in his heart, and had not lost its sting.
Moritz von Hohenhorst was a native of Brunswick. Though several years younger than Duke Anton Ulrich, he had been his playmate. in childhood,
whenever he spent his vacation at the house of his
uncle; who held one of the high charges at the court
of Brunswick. The duke, who, as coregent, had been
named by his wife generalissimo of the impeiial army,
received him kindly, perhaps the more so, as Hohenhorst had incurred a penalty under his brother-in-law,




56              FIFTEEN YEARS.
the- King of Prussia, whom he hated. When his former playmate presented himself to him, he had inquired most particularly into all details. He wished
to know all about his unfortunate affair, and those
who could have seen the two in conversation without
knowing them, would much sooner have taken the
handsome, heroic-looking youth for the prince by
birth, and the little man with the thin legs-and the
flat face for the humble applicant. Anton Ulrich
was a gracious sovereign, and was delighted, besides,
atthe acquisition of so splendid an officer, and one of
the heroes of Silesia to boot, for his body-guard. He
immediately caused a major's commission to be made
out for the former Prussian captain.
He continued, too, to treat him most graciously,
and among other things had himself introduced him,
on the day previous, to Major von Winterfeld, who
was in St. Petersburg as Prussian envoy, as a former
Prussian officer. Moritz had. not heard a word from
Germany since his nocturnal flight. He colored, as
he recognized the envoy, whom he had formerly met
in society in Berlin. The ambassador's face, too, was
slightly tinged with red, when he heard the name of
Baron Hohenhorst.
The diplomat gave no sign of recognition. After
a short, embarrassed pause, he said in French: "You
had a cousin of your name in the service of my king,
baron, who has recently met with a great misfortune.
I have just received the news that his majesty has resolved to punish his imprudence, for which the courtmartial had sentenced him to death, with peculiar
severity, because an offence against discipline is the




FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.            57
most dangerous of crimes. Your cousin has been
cashiered and deprived of his title."
Moritz stood as if thunderstruck. A deathly pallor spread over his face. The diplomat turned away,
apparently quite at ease, and commenced a new conversation with a neighbor. The duke, who, meanwhile, had been talking to some one else, but had halflistened to the envoy, patted the.young German kindly on the shoulder, when he saw his agitation.
" Be of good courage, Hohenhorst," he said. "I'll
send you to the army in Sweden. There are laurels
to be won in Finland as well as in Silesia. You can
wipe out the stain there."
On this night, too, the prince had again shown
himself gracious and full of interest toward the young
officer.  When, before retiring, he handed him the
letters which he had written to Brunswick and Berlin,
with the order to give them to the chasseur, and observed the expression of gloomy melancholy with
which the other received them, he said: "The package is still unsealed; if you care to report to your
lady how you are faring, you can do so. The courier
will send the letter by mail from Berlin, and thus it
will go safely. He will not leave before midnight.
The grand-duchess intended to write to her august
father, but she grew tired, and has deferred it till
another time. I'll go to bed too, so as not to keep
her awake. Her sleep is troubled enough nowadays,
as it is."
Rejoiced at being able at last to transmit safely to
hiss beloved wife any certain intelligence of himself,
Moritz had, with fervent thanks, availed himself of




58              FIFTEEN YEARS.
the prince's permission, and, frequently interrupted
by overwhelming grief, and tears which he tried in
vain to repress, had written the following letter:
"Fondly-beloved wife, soul of my existence!
" God grant that you have safely received the
hasty lines which I sent you by mail from Kalisch,
the first place where I ventureed-to take breath. They
will at least have convinced you of my having passed
the frontier in safety.
"I ask myself whether it is not a dream, that I
am sitting here, in barbarian Scythia, hundreds of
miles away from you and -my happiness, inditing a
letter to you like a stranger? I, hardly a month ago
the happiest of men, envied by all, thanking God daily,
hourly, for having given me you, my highest good,
my all in all, for my own! And now divided from you
so hopelessly, my life's happiness so irrecoverably lost!
"And what is it that I have donei? How bla ckly my enemies will have painted me to you and to
your highly-revered parents, my gracious benefactors!
You, my beloved, will- not listen to these calumnies —
but they?
"And I ask again, what is' it that I have done?
Because I listened to the voice of humanity, I am
treated inhumanly; because I defended my honor, I
am dishonored. I-of what account am I? The Almighty will take care of me. He has already stretched
out to me:His helping hand. But the thought: that I
have caused you, the daughter of a noble race, to become -the wife of a degraded man, bereft of his title;
that I have drawn you, saint that you are, into the




FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.           59
turmoil of human and diabolic passions-this is what
I cannot realize-what, in dark hours, has almost driven me- to despair.
" ow far you condescended, Agatha-you, a maiden of princely race-in giving your hand to a simple
nobleman, an officer of inferior rank-that I knew, and
acknowledged deeply. But I was bold enough -to
cherish the hope that, on the path of glory upon which
I had entered in: the service of an adored king, I
might lead you back to the height from which you had
descended from love of me. And now all is over!
One moment, and the proud dream has faded!
"And yet I am not guilty before God. As a cavalier, I could not do otherwise. Let me tell you how
it all came:
"You did not know, for I would not wound your
delicacy by mentioning it to you, how envy and jealousy had long been inciting that miserable fellow Von
Nastitz, who in former days had also aspired to you,
to annoy and wound me, and how, until lately, he only
had not dared to insult me openly. When, after the
storming of Glogau, at which he had committed a
grave military error, he received from the hereditary
prince, our general, a severe reprimand at the same
moment in which the latter praised me beyond my
deserts; when, after the battle of Mollwitz, the favor
of my king bestowed upon me a promotion in rank,
his malignant hatred increased more and more. And
this latter event placed me in a bad position, for he
was major of the battalion in: which I received a company. He was full of devices for pricking me with
needles, as it were, which was infinitely harder to bear




60              FIFTEEN YEARS.
than open sword-cuts, for I could neither return nor
take notice of the stings thus inflicted.
"But the worst was still to come. This shameless
fellow, who in point of years could have been your
father, and who had behind him a dissolute, licentious
youth, solicited your hand, trusting to the influence of
his wealth for success. That it was upon me, instead
of him, that your venerated parents bestowed their
favor, that I obtained that which was denied to him,
this filled the measure of his rage against me. And
the villain soon discovered my most vulnerable point.
During drill on parade, or wherever else an opportunity offered of maltreating the men of my company,
loading them with unmerited coarse censure, having
them locked up, dictating floggings or other punishments, carrying to inhumanity the strict, rigid discipline of military order-every thing was done to irritate, to exasperate me, and nothing but an almost
convulsive restraining of my just inward wrath could
protect me even from open censure; there was no lack
of secret, concealed rebukes.
"And now to that dreadful day of the outbreak.
You angel, with your saintly heart, will scarcely
understand it. He had stung me more savagely than
ever. There was a man in my company who was particularly attached to me-an honest, faithful soul,
who had first roused my interest by the filial love
with which he clung to his old mother, who had followed him from their home. He was from Lusatia,
and had entered the army but shortly before we invaded Silesia, for nothing but pure love of a soldier's
life, of which the poor fellow had probably formed a




FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.           61
romantic idea; for he was the son of respectable
parents. As his mother was a widow, he was under
the special care of a pious godfather, a worthy wagoner, whom his business brought to Ranschwitz from
time to time.
"The honest man had long endeavored in vain to
withdraw his Martin from the army again. Finding
he could not succeed, he came to me one day, and
charged me, in such touchingly simple words, to look
after the lad and the good of his soul, that I have
watched over him since, as if I had been his father.
And it was this poor fellow, who, just because he was
new, committed many mistakes, whom my enemy had
chosen in particular for the purpose of wounding me.
"On that unhappy day, just before parade, he
passed down the front, pouring forth oaths and abuses.
Martin might not have been holding his head very
straight, when the major gave him such a blow under
the chin, that the blood spurted from the poor fellow's
nose.  A few drops fell upon his white breeches.
When Nastitz, returning, saw this, he became furious, broke out in savage cursing at' such nastiness,'
pushed the lad out of the ranks, and ordered thirty
blows to be counted out to him!
"I could contain myself no longer. I stepped forward and excused the man, giving an explanation of
the matter. Nastitz, with a sneer, commanded me to
be silent. What he added, mumbling it in his beard,
I could not well understand, and the trumpets sounded just then, and the cavalry came up, but I heard
plainly something about fellows in uniform that were
born to be black-coats. The three officers stepped




62              FIFTEEN YEARS.
forward and surrounded me. The parade commenced;
I did my duty mechanically; inwardly I was boiling
with indignation. At last the parade was over. The
regiments marched off; the officers were standing about
in groups. I stepped up to the major, who was in conversation with several other officers. I called upon
him to take back his words, or to declare that I had
misunderstood him.'And what did monsieur le
capitaine understand?' he asked, with a diabolical
smile.'I should dishonor my lips by repeating it,'
I replied;' but, whatever it was, there is but one way
of answering it!' Then the whole foaming venom
that was in the man came out!:'Would not monsieur le capitaine wish first to consult with his pious
mamma-in-law upon the matter?' And, when I involuntarily put my hand to my sword, he added to. these
shameless, sneering words, a few more expressions so
filthy that I will not pollute your pure eye by transcribing them.
"Then I felt that the scoundrel was not worthy
of my good sword.   He deserved nothing but the
degrading blow in the face which I gave him. He
rushed upon me furiously; I drew my sword to defend
myself against his returning the blow. As: he lifted
his arm, it: struck the edge of my blade. All closed
in around me.  He has lost his senses!" cried one.'Command yourself!' said another. Before I could
think, the superiority of numbers had disarmed me,
and I had been arrested.
"I was taken to the old stone house, which you
know from my having shown it to you in passing, and
which had served: the regiments that were in camp




FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.            63
there as a guard-house, and also as a lock-up for those
under arrest. It was formerly a tavern, and had been
taken from the landlord for a compensation, as being
too near the camp.  I was shut up in a large back
room, bare of furniture. The front room was the
guard-room;: both were on the ground floor, but the
shutters of the back room were closed, and only a few
gleams of light fell through the chinks, which were
darkened at regular intervals by the sentinel walking
to and fro outside.
"I will not describe to you the state I was in;, my
Agatha. My first senseless rage was soon over, for
your image finally drove away all other thoughts, all
feelings of anger and of revenge. Years of confinement in a fortress lay before me, years of separation
from you; a youth of idleness, devoid of deeds.
Athwart the prison-walls I would hear from afar the
war-trumpets, the songs of victory and triumph of my
hero-king, while I was wasting my noblest powers in
forced indolence.
"The day passed in despairing reflections of this
kind. The room, obscured from the first by the closed
shutters, had grown quite dark. At length the door
opened. A private entered with a lamp and my supper. By the bed stood a table and a single chair,
upon- which I had thrown myself, after long pacing to
and fro restlessly.  The door remained half-open;
just as the sentinel outside passed it, the private
placed the lamp and the dish upon the table, and
whispered, without looking up:'Look behind the
stove in the night!' He turned, and left the room.
The door closed, and the key was turned.




64              FIFTEEN YEARS.
"'Behind the stove?' I took the lamp and looked.
nothing was to be seen there but a sack of straw,
which had evidently been placed.there by some prisoner who wanted to sleep warm. I felt of it in different places, and touched something hard beneath it.
I lifted the sack, and discovered an iron ring let into
the floor. I turned it; an opening appeared. It was
a trap-door, from which a small flight of stairs led, as
it seemed, into a cellar.
"The idea of flight entered my mind for the first
time. From Poland, from Russia, from England, I
could appeal by letter, through influential friends, to
the elemency of my king, who favored me personally.
With this hope, at least, I flattered myself. In a fortress I should be like one dead. In short, the yearning
for liberty conquered. But I was not to escape till
the night. I could hardly restrain my impatience.
The floor seemed to burn-beneath me. And yet it was
well that I waited; for, at ten o'clock, my door was
opened once more, some one looked in,-to see that all
was safe, the key was turned, and a large bolt drawn
outside. My resolution to escape became firmly fixed,
as these arrangements pictured to me what my future
would be if I remained.
" After waiting a while, I softly opened the trapdoor, descended the stairs, and groped my way in the
dark through a long, filthy vault, which seemed to extend beneath the whole house. I stumbled over halfbroken barrels, and rolled aside old stone bottles with
my feet. It was evidently the cellar of the former
tavern, from the bar-room of which the landlord had
built the stairs leading directly into the cellar, for the




FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.            65
convenience of those who supplied the guests with
drink. A low door led into a second cellar, which was
under a wing containing the kitchen, and this, as I remembered, was again connected with the stables and
barns of the establishment. From a distant point came
a faint glimmer as of a lamp. A low voice croaked
from the same direction:'This way, your honor!' I
followed the voice, and the light was extinguished
the moment I had perceived a small window, through
which I forced myself with difficulty. A figure, which,
in spite of the darkness, I recognized, by the hard, bony
hands with which it grasped my arm, for that of an old
woman, was awaiting me outside, and dragged me on
through barns and sheds, and finally among the narrow openings left between high piles of wood. I was
now on familiar ground. Between the guard-house
and a small grove near by there was an open space
which had been used for piling up the wood for our
camp-kitchen, after it had been cut. And now I also
recognized the poor old woman, who was trembling in
every limb, as Martin's mother.
" Creeping along among the wood-piles, we reached
the grove, and, by narrow, winding paths, as far as I
could determine in the perfect darkness, its northeastern corner, where it ended in a field-road, known to
me from my rides about the country. Here we found
a horse, fully equipped, and held by a man, whom, more
by instinct than from what I could see, I took to be
the worthy wagoner-Martin's godfather.  The lad
had told me only that morning that he had arrived in
the village.'Please to mount, sir,' he said, as he
threw over me a wagoner's blouse and exchanged my




66              FIFTEEN YEARS.
hat for. a broad-brimmed one of felt, such as the pedlars
wear in those parts.' Your hat will go into the pond
behind the church-yard. Turn to the left when you
reach tl-e cross-roads, and then go around the hill;:that
will bring you to the ferry. Then, in half an hour,
you'll be across the frontier. Ride quickly; before you
are missed you can be in Lissa. There is a Saxon
passport in the pocket of the blouse that was not called
for when I was in Warsaw three months ago. It may
be of use to you. The name of Godfrey Hasse will
not dishonor you. And now God be with you, sir'
"I mounted. My lips overflowed with the gratitude that filled my heart. I begged the good man urgently to let you know of my escape, and receive your
thanks. But the mother said,' No, the countess must
not know any thing till your honor is safe, else my
poor boy would have to pay for it. God in heaven go
with you and protect you, good sir!'
"And, accompanied by the blessings of these two
faithful ones, I galloped out into the night. Putting
my hand into the pocket of the blouse, I convinced
myself that these good people had also provided for
my travelling expenses. Besides the passport, I found
a bag filled with silver thalers. Prithee, dear love,, repay as soon as possible, and three or four fold, all the
expenses of these excellent, noble-hearted people-for
the horse, disguise, travelling-money, etc. In my desk
you will find several rolls of money. Only be cautious,
lest any suspicion fall upon them. The countess, my
highly-revered mother-in-law, who is aswise as she is
pious, will be sure to manage every thing in the most
prudent manner.




FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.            67
"For that which these good people did for me,
from a simple feeling of gratitude for the slight and
by no means arduous care which I had taken of their
darling, by endeavoring to protect him from the seductions of vicious companions and the like, no money,
indeed, can repay them. They give me a new proof
of the folly and sinfulness of the common view, that we
of the nobility are better than the people; and convince me afresh that piety and high-mindedness are at
home in the lowest cottage. And do we need such
proofs when we remember what humble guise our Lord
himself assumed during His stay on. earth, and that He
chose the first messengers of His gospel and His glory
from the lowest of the people?
"I say nothing to-day of my wild, furious ride
through Poland and Russia. Early in the morning I
reached Lissa. At Kalisch, with the help of a couple
of Jews, I exchanged my uniform for decent, plain
clothes, and my horse for a post-chaise. Fortunately
-a mere accident-I had a good purse full of gold in
my pocket. This, with the wagoner's loan, and the
proceeds of the sale of my horse, and my watch and
chain, sufficed to bring me here to St. Petersburg. I
had come to the resolution of trying my fortune in
Russia. The King of Poland is the secret enemy of
my king. I will not serve him. Russia is the country
for me. She is at war with Sweden. There'll be a
place for me there. With the duke co-regent I am
personally acquainted, and my being a native of Brunswick is in my favor besides. And here in Russia, aside
from the many adventurers who, through boldness and
craft, have reached the top of the ladder, many a brave




!6 8            FIFTEEN YEARS.
nobleman, too, has been allowed to look Dame Fortune in the face again, after she had turned her back
on him in his native land. Lascy came hither to escape from his creditors. Mfinnich entered the empire
of the czars as a duellist. Keith came as an adventurer. 
" Oh my beloved! how often and how bitterly have
I repented of my flight, which has divided me from
you and from my happiness perhaps for many years.
Nothing but the thought that this flight alone made it
possible for me to regain that which I had lost-honor,
fame, title-position, indeed, the high position without
which I could never venture to call upon you, beloved
of my soul, to leave the noble house of your parents
for a home in a new country; nothing but this thought,
this hope, this firm resolve, can reconcile me to my.
flight.
"Here I have fared well beyond all expectation.
The duke has given me an appointment in his bodyguard, with the rank and pay of a major, and, as I told
him'frankly my whole situation, has assigned to me a
considerable sum which for the present frees me from
all care and from the necessity of incurring debts. It
is to his gracious interest, too, that I owe the opportunity for sending this letter.
"I had regained hope and courage, when Major
Winterfeld crushed me by the terrible intelligence of
the cruel and arbitrary manner in which the king has
punished my offence. But I only half-acknowledge
his tyrannic decree. He can deprive me of my rank
as an officer, but not of my title, which the Saxon
dukes conferred upon my ancestors even before-the




FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.            69
days of the Saxon emperors, when the name of Hohenzollern was only just beginning to appear in history.
The count, your noble father, and the countess your
venerated mother-ah, Agatha, she was a mother to
me too, and I loved her as a son!-they will feel that I
could not, as a cavalier, act otherwise, and will forgive me the sorrow which I have brought upon them
and upon you, their best earthly treasure.
"Even if my own misfortune did not oppress me,
I could not feel at ease in the atmosphere which surrounds me here. To be sure, I know nothing, as yet,
of the city, as such, and of the country. But the
court is one huge moral slough. Every thing here disgusts me. I would much rather not mention it to
you, you soul of purity. I pity the duke, who has
surely been accustomed, in his family, to a different
style of princesses, from the fair, virtuous empress
of Charles VI. down to the chaste and pious young
Queen of Prussia. The Czarevna Elizabeth is no better than a prostitute. In her early youth already she
threw herself away.on a common soldier of the guards,
and, since then, there has been no end to her love-intrigues. Duke Ludwig of Brunswick, the brother of
the regent, who is here too, was to have married her,
but he has a higher sense of honor than some other
people, and gave her a name with which I will not
shock your purity. And she would not have him,
either, because he is weak, and ugly as the night.
"She is a shameless woman, and yet the Grandduchess Anna, the regent, is hardly any better; only
that she does not do things quite so openly. She has
hardly been married two years, and yet she is already




To.FIFTEEN YEARS.
faithless to IDuke Anton, who is vexed and unhappy
thereat, and yet takes -no decided step to put an end
to such scandalous doings. She has an intrigue with
Count Lynar, the Polish-Saxon ambassador, and intends to follow the example of her aunt, the Empress
Anna, who married her lover Biron to one of her
ladies of honor, thus to cover up her own relation to
him somewhat. The grand-duchess has-affiancedLynar
to one of her ladies, Fraulein von Mengden, and he
has now gone home to arrange his affairs before marrying her. The duke must be aware of it, for everybody else knows it.  But how can one pity such a
prince?  And yetI am grateful to him, and should
like to be able to serve him in some way. I believe
he is actually still in love with the grand-duchess, who
is, indeed, quite good-looking, particularly when she
sets offher pale, flabby complexion by paint, and dons
her splendid court-dress. But, as she appears to us,
when we are on duty, stretched upon a lounge in laziness and ennui, with dull eyes, and pale, bloated
cheeks, in utterly - negligent attire, such as your
mother, who looks to decency, would -not allow her
servants to wear at their-coarsest work; without corsets, in a short fur jacket or loose velvet sack, which
only partially cover her voluptuous form; a kerchief
tied over her head, so as to avoid having her hair
dressed-at such times there is not much beauty to be
found in her. And in this guise she appears at the
card-table, if it does not happen to be a gala-day, in
the petit-cercle, to which, besides FrAulein von Mengden, the imperial and English ambassadors belong.
"Princess Elizabeth, on the other hand, is always




FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.             71
handsomely dressed, in gay, bright colors, which are'
very well suited to her fresh, blooming complexion,
and the pleasant, cheerful expression of her face.
She and the grand-duchess are on excellent terms, and
the former seems to care but little for the crown, to
which she, as some say, has a better right, as Peter's
daughter, than Anna as the grand-daughter of Ivan.
The grand-duchess is good-natured. She would like
to marry Elizabeth to her brother-in-law, Duke Ludwig.; but, as I have already said, he holds back.
Mengden, too, hates the czarevna. It is ridiculous
to observe by what littleness she sometimes shows
this. Elizabeth, for instance, is in the habit of regularly leaving the court assemblies at seven o'clock.
But Mengden wants to get rid of her sooner, and
has all the clocks in the palace set forward an:hour.
And;:other little meannesses of the same:kind.
"But all this concerns me very little. Only that
these.:and: similar intrigues:have removed MIannich too
from the regent and her husband; that that distinguished general is now in a kind of disfavor, which
enforces upon him an unworthydinactivity, that vexes
me. And.still more the reason. It is only because
this honest man advised too strongly against war with
Prussia, toward which the intrigues of Botta and
Lynar inclined the grand.duchess, contrary to all
sound policy. You may depend upon it, Agatha, I
shall never fight against my king. The duke has
promise[d to send me, in the spring, when fighting
recommences, to the victorious army in Finland.  I
have no peace here, and this miserable court-service
wellnigh makes me desperate.   Under Lascy and




72              FIFTEEN YEARS.
Keith I hope to gain the laurels of which yonder
scoundrel deprived me.
"And now, my heart's beloved, may the all-loving
Father have mercy upon you! Oh, why was it necessary that His chastening hand should fall upon you
too, you angel, who were free from blame, when it
struck me such a crushing blow?
"Farewell! Let me soon be refunded by news
from you, for whom my soul thirsts. I enclose my
address. Tell me that you do not disapprove of what
I have done, that your parents forgive me for having
caused you to shed tears of grief.
" Your MORITZ."
When, at last, Moritz would have folded his letter,
to place it in the envelope, he had to hold it to the
fire, for it was wet with the burning tears which, un.
observed by him, had dropped from his eyes upon it,
as, while writing, he had seemed to see the weeping,
loving face of his young wife turned toward him.
He sealed the letter, and addressed it as follows:
"To the right honorable the noble Baroness von
Hohenhorst, born Countess of the Empire von Promnitz, Castle Wildeneck, near Glogau, Silesia."
After this he quickly closed the package, and had
just finished, when the courier entered, ready for departure. The sleigh, which was to carry him to Germany, stood waiting for him at one of the gates of the
palace, and Moritz soon heard the sound of its bells
dying away by degrees as it sped along through the
quiet night.
It was midnight. He could hear the guard being




FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.           73
relieved in the passage. At one o'clock another officer
was to take his place; but he had no inclination to
sleep. His mind was excited, and he felt that this
night could bring him no refreshing rest. Still, he was
much.relieved by his communion with his beloved
wife. He commenced walking up and down again,
but, instead of giving way as before to melancholy reflections, he began to picture the future in more and
more glowing colors, and thus exercised in full measure the privilege of a vigorous youth. The war with
Sweden was the next thing to look forward to; but a
Turkish war, too, was inevitable. It had long been
felt that Biron, through jealousy of MUnnich, had suffered the French to delude him into a shameful treaty
of peace. A new Turkish war could not be carried on
without Mannich. A brilliant campaign held out a
rapid advancement to even the youngest officer. The
future shone out upon Moritz like the sun from dark
clouds.
Suddenly he heard a suppressed noise below, a
muffled sound as of men's steps upon the stairs, and,
a moment after, low voices in the passage. He rushed
to the door, which opened as he reached it. A troop
of grenadiers-there were thirty of them-crowded
into the room. "Treason!" he cried, snatching his
sword from its scabbard; but at the same moment he
was collared. Two or three at once fell upon him, and
held him with athletic force while another disarmed
him; but no further harm was done him. Two gigantic grenadiers held him firmly by the arms, while
the crowd bore him away with it. As soon as he made
any motion to disengage himself from them, they held
4




'74              FIFTEEN YEARS.
up their clinched fists before his face, and he gave up
all attempts at flight, in order to avoid personal male
treatment. Suddenly he heard a voice beside him say
in German: "If you value your life, major, remain
quiet. The new empress does not wish any blood shed
unnecessarily." The speaker was a Saxon, named
GrUnstein, and one of the chief instruments of this
most singular of all conspiracies.
The troop turned their still muffled steps toward
the bedchamber of the regents. The foremost burst
open the door, crowded into the room, and accidentally
upset the night-lamp which was standing on a table
by the bed. A light was brought from the anteroom,
the door remained wide open; Moritz was dragged
forward, and saw the wide bed in which the unfortunate couple, wakened from soundest sleep, started up
bewildered as by a dream, staring half-senseless at the
group of soldiers which surrounded them.
The commanding officer ordered the grand-duchess,
in the name of the Empress Elizabeth, to rise and follow him. The former soon roused herself from her
state of speechless alarm.  A waiting-woman was
called from the adjoining.room, who, trembling in
every limb, put on her mistress's shoes and stockings,
and wrapped around her a velvet mantle lined with
fur. Outwardly calm, in gloomy resignation to her
fate, she allowed herself to be led away, asking for a
hood to protect her head, and then inquiring of the
officer whether. she might not be allowed to see her
cousin once more.
While this unfortunate woman by such resignation maintained a certain dignity, the duke, as if en



FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.            75
tirely bereft of even the little mental power which he
possessed, had sat immovable, staring by turns at his
wife,and the grenadiers. When Moritz beheld the
scion of the heroic race of the Guelphs in such degradation, a pain like a sword-thrust shot through him.
He started, and involuntarily made an attempt to
reach the duke; but he was thrust back rudely, and
could only just see that two of the gigantic soldiers
lifted the little man like a child, threw a fur cloak over
his shoulders, so that his naked feet hung below it,
and carried him down to one of the sleighs which stood
in readiness. The harshest acts were performed without harshness. The rough men moved softly and still
spoke in low tones.
Now, however, a group of them entered the next
room, in which the little imperial prince was sleeping.
Moritz beheld, through the open door, a sight which
touched him even amid the painful uncertainty of
his own fate. The boy lay wrapped in the soundest
sleep of childhood. The grenadiers had orders not to
waken him. And so these wild, rough men, who, but
an hour ago, had declared themselves willing to cut
down every enemy of Peter's daughter, stood quietly
and patiently around the cradle, waiting for the awakening of the child, so unconsciously bereft of its crown.
But Moritz was:not allowed to see the end of this
scene; how, finally, when the child awoke, one of the
bearded men would have taken it, how it cried and
screamed with fear, and was at last given to its trembling nurse. He, too, was led away, and taken, like all
others arrested, to Elizabeth's palace, which for the
present served as prison for all the state and court




FIFTEEN YEARS.
officials who had been apprehended, as well as for the
grand-ducal family itself.
The czarevna, too, had returned thither after awaiting the result of the conspiracy, until three o'clock in
the morning, in the guard-room of the Winter Palace,
in the midst of her praxtorian guards, the Preobrashenski Grenadiers, and making more and more sure
of their hearts by golden promises and winning manners. At Elizabeth's palace, too, the senate assembled
during the night, and, one after another, all the regiments of the imperial city drew up before it, and, after
receiving the declaration that the czarevna had taken
possession of the parental throne, gladly, nay, jubilantly followed the example of the senate in taking
the oath of allegiance.
Early the next morning, when the amazed, bewildered people flocked in from all sides, remaining, however, at a respectful distance, the new empress appeared at the window, with the imperial prince on her
arm, kissing him with a coquetry of feeling that
called forth a loud hurrah from the soldiers. It is
reported that when the boy, in innocent delight, imitated the cry, she said: "Poor little fellow, thou dost
not suspect that that hurrah is thy sentence!" Perhaps she concluded from these cheers that there was,
at least for this innocent boy, a feeling still extant
among the masses that might be dangerous to her,
and hence resolved, with cruel selfishness, to destroy
him altogether.
But no other voice was raised for the banished
princes, no hand lifted for the harmless minor, whose
representatives had reigned chiefly by the aid of for



FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.            77
eigners, and had thus wounded the innermost core of
popular feeling. Never was a revolution, at least in
its first beginnings, accomplished so entirely without
bloodshed. But, among the Germans, there reigned a
terrible mute dismay; a fearfully black storm hovered
above their heads, which was to come only too soon to
a bloody outbreak.
At noon of the same day, the new empress rode in
an open carriage, accompanied by a jubilant populace,
to the Winter Palace, and took possession of it. The
deserted house still served for some days as a prison for
the grand-ducal family, as also for all others who had
been apprehended, among whom the famous names of
Miinnich and Ostermann were conspicuous, not one
of whom was conscious of less guilt than Moritz von
Hohenhorst.
He was confined in the same room with the colonel
of dragoons, Von Haimburg, who, although, one of the
most insignificant of men, was yet of influence as
Anton Ulrich's adjutant and confidant, and therefore
detested. The curtain which hides from us the fate
of an unfortunate friend must remain drawn for the
present.




CHAPTER IV.
A PIETIST    H OUSEH OLD.
THE letter reached Castle Wildeneck in safety.
There, two women had knelt every night and morning, aind in many hours of solitude, in prayer for the
beloved fugitive and his escape. When Agatha at
last received the ardently-longed-for letter, she tore it
open quickly, and with trembling hands. With lovethirsty eyes she drank in merely the chief features;
then she hastened to her mother, forgetting all customary ceremony, which hardly permitted, in noble
families of that time, such free access of the children
to the parents. In Agatha, too, submission to these
forms of etiquette had grown to a second nature;
but her overwhelming agitation carried her away.
" He is saved, gracious mamma," she cried, " he is
beyond all danger! Just read this, dearest mamma;
he is in Russia!"
It was almost dark in her mother's room; the
heavy curtains were let down; the countess was
seated in her arm-chair, wrapped in blissful contemplation; opposite her, on a low ottoman, sat a stranger in clerical dress, whom Agatha did not observe




A PIETIST HOUSEHOLD.           79
until she was quite close to her mother. He was one
of the wandering preachers, who, since the awakening
of Protestant Christianity from its long trance of lifeless orthodoxy, were continually passing through the
country, and were always sure to find, at least in
some parts of Germany, a hospitable shelter with the
better portion of the high nobility.  Toward the
middle of the eighteenth century, the. period in which
the scene of this tale is laid, the religious paroxysm
was diminishing, and gradually became absorbed in
Moravianism. But the family of the Counts of Promnitz, in all its branches, withered though they were,
remained true to the old sacred love. Countess Benigna, in particular, descended from the princely race
of Reuss, was up to her death one of the chief supporters of the pure original doctrine of Spener.
Agatha started on seeing the stranger. But the
countess received her with her usual look of love and
kindness, indeed, with increased warmth and mildness.
For the spiritual communion with the Reverend Mr.
Schienmayer had lifted her soul to higher regions.
This man of God had just preached a sort of private
sermon to her, in which he had convinced his humble
patroness, still more strongly than she was already,
that we poor sinful creatures must creep after the gentle Lamb of God on our knees, if we would hope ever
to attain unto it. She therefore did not even put out
her hand for the letter, which had brought such happy
yet such merely carnal intelligence, but said:
" If the Lord's mercy has saved the erring one, my
daughter, let us not delay to thank our heavenly
Saviour in all humility for His intercession.  It is




80              FIFTEEN YEARS.
plainly His hand which has sent to us this excellent
man, the Reverend Mr. Schienmayer."
The countess paused while the preacher made a
humble obeisance, and Agatha, whose spirit was far
away, an equally profound courtesy.
"He will find," continued the countess, "the
words of sacrifice for our poor benighted souls, which
will be acceptable to the Lord.-Kneel, my daughter."
And as she herself rose, preparatory to kneeling,
she remarked to the preacher, who was ever ready for
prayer:
"My son-in-law, a worthy nobleman, and a believer, though still in the outer courts, and in the
bonds of the flesh, has been delivered from great danger by the Lord of hosts. You have probably heard
of his affair. Pray with us, my good sir, pray that
this experience may be sanctified unto him! "
Agatha, holding in her hand the hardly-glanced-at
letter, every word of which seemed to decide her life's
happiness, sank upon her knees like the others, halfbeside herself. She pressed the letter, the voice of her
fondly-beloved, closely to her heart, and struggled in
vain to tear her mind away from it, and bring her soul
into the right frame for prayer. For the unconscious,
trembling, joyous feeling of gratitude which filled her
whole heart, the turbulent, rapturous transport which
pervaded her inmost being-such a condition of:the
soul she had. not been taught to call the right frame
of mind for prayer; her education having been based
upon religious principles which did not acknowledge
a love for the Creator in His creature, but only the
love for the creaturefor the sake of the Creator.




A PIETIST HOUSEHOLD.          81
The pious man had long since commenced his
prayer, in a lamentable, whining tone. He besought
the dear Saviour, for the sake of this His faithful handmaiden and her child, to have mercy still further upon
the erring wanderer, and to light for him, who was
still groping about amid the weak rays of the dim
lamp of human wisdom, the torch of conviction.
"Take from him," he moaned, "take from him the
filthy garment of his own righteousness! Wash off,
beloved Jesus, the scab of his sins with Thy precious
blood! Suffer him to rest in Thy wounds like a sucking child in its cradle! Let him, in Thine incomprehensible wisdom, find, by the thorny path in which
Thou art leading him, the way to the crowned Lamb.
Let him not thirst too long for the hour of sealing, for
the hour of the pouring out of Thy grace! Come,
O friend of souls, 0 dispenser of mercies, come!"
While he thus held forth, for full half an hour,
sighing and groaning, and accompanied by the moans
and sighs of the countess, Agatha had vainly endeavored to follow the servant of God in his ascetic
digressions. She could not help it; she could hardly
refrain from giving loud, jubilant utterance to the one
rapturous feeling, that her adored husband was saved.
At length she gave up the struggle, and prayed silently in her own way and with quiet tears:
"Forgive, oh forgive Thy sinful handmaiden, dear
Saviour, for thinking more of her loved one's temporal
welfare at this moment than of his spiritual good.
Thou surely wouldst have us love each other-us, who
were joined together in Thy name. Thou knowest,
too, that the poor fugitive loves Thee at heart, and




82              FIFTEEN YEARS.
that, though he may be proud before men, he bows in
humility before Thee and Thy sacred name. Peter,
too, struck the high-priest's servant, and yet he was
one of Thine elect, and Thou didst choose him among
the twelve, to build Thy church upon him. And
though he was a frail, sinful vessel, like us all, and denied Thee in the hour of fleshly weakness, yet he said
with truth:'Lord, Thou knowest that I love Thee.'
0 dear Saviour, protect my beloved husband still
further with Thy powerful shield, and let me not, poor,
weak reed that I am, oh let me not wait too long for
the hour of reunion!"
The house of Promnitz belonged to the pious
households of the nobility in which, after the purified
Church of Germany had, by degrees, become benumbed by tenets and dogmas, and lain for a full century in a death-like sleep, it had found an asylum,
on its awaking about, seventy years before. The
religious movements of our day have often been compared with those of the "awakened" and so-called
pietists of that time. And yet they were entirely different at root. While over-ripeness and exhaustion of
the intellectual soil have led many of our contemporaries
to similar results, it was in the other case just the unripeness of the fruit, which had fallen beforeits time,
that caused it to decay so soon. With our contemporaries we have nothing to do for the present. I have
taken my reader back more than a century. At that
period a luxuriant crop grew up exuberantly from a
soil which had been but little used for other mental
plants, and was now richly impregnated with the halfdecayed fruit. There was- many an unhealthy, even




A PIETIST HOUSEHOLD.            83
poisonous weed among it; but even where it was
most barren, most noisome, most interspersed with
tares, it was yet more pleasing in the eye of God than
the rotten fruit of Lutheran and Calvinist Pharisaism itself, from which had sprung the seed of these
fanatical, absurd, and in every case thoroughly tasteless errors.
The breath of the Holy Spirit moved from west to
east. The marvellous religious impulse which the
pious Spener had first awakened' among the high
nobility of Middle and North Germany, found, about
the time of this excellent man's death, one of its chief
scenes of action in Lower Lusatia and Northern Silesia,
where the family of Promnitz had its home. Agatha's
father belonged to one of its collateral branches.
While the senior line maintained quite a small court,
and succeeded in combining the sincerest, most insipid pietism with the strictest forms of old-fashioned
French ceremony, he, one of the younger cousins, had
been portioned off with some estates in Silesia, of
which Wildeneck, not far from Glogau, served him as
a place of residence.
Count Ernest Casimir-this was the name of
Agatha's father-was by nature far less ascetic than
his relative in Sorau. He had seen the world in his
youth, and had fought, as an imperial officer, under
Prince. Eugene of Savoy. Various slights and injuries
to which he, as a Lutheran, had been subjected, had
caused him to resign, and withdraw to his estates. A
marriage with the pious Countess Benigna of Reuss
had confirmed him in the religious principles which
were the result of his education, and her stronger




84               FIFTEEN YEARS.
character and her more decided convictions had enabled her by degrees, and indeed almost involuntarily,
to acquire considerable influence over him and the
whole household.   Perhaps, too, the fact that his
pious wife had brought to him an ample dowry, which.
covered many a youthful indiscretion, contributed
toward insuring her a position of importance.
Countess Benigna, after the first few years of her
marriage, which had not passed entirely without some
conflicts with her husband on the subject of the Adiaphora,* had succeeded in stripping off gradually, with
shrewd, gentle hand, and with much skill, all fetters
of the evil world, and banishing from her house dancing, card-playing, theatre-going, novel-reading, etc.
There was, however, no lack of spiritual food to satisfy
the greedy craving of the day for such enjoyments..
Besides the regular morning devotions, and the prayers
before dinner and supper, for all of which the whole
household assembled, every visit. of a clergyman, or
person otherwise qualified by piety, was taken advantage of, for.listening to sermons and expositions, and
the hospitality of the house of Promnitz in all its
branches encouraged a never-ending flow of guests of
the above-mentioned class.
A house of this stamp could have little power of
attraction for the world's children, at least before its
beautiful daughter grew up to be a woman. But it
was by no means in accordance with the views of the
pious classes of the period to put an end to all social
intercourse with those who differed in their opinions,
*'Adiaphora, such practices and religious opinions as were considered indifferent and non-essential.




A PIETIST HOUSEHOLD.           85
as long as they kept within the bounds of morality.
On the contrary, they looked upon a sectarian exclusiveness as unchristian, and endeavored-in many individual cases not without a secret spiritual pride-to
keep up an affectionate relation with the children of the
world, who on their part jeered at them and shunned
them by turns. Visits were therefore occasionally
though rarely interchanged with the nobility of the
neighborhood, and the countess had too much tact and
dignity to trouble those, who, from choice and hardness
of heart, were still loitering in the outer courts of the
temple, with a revelation of its glory. It was only when
the worldly pleasantry passed certain bounds-and the
coarse manners of the time made this quite as likely
to happen among the country gentry as a morality
corrupted by the influence of France caused it to occur
among the nobility of the courts and cities-that she
would unhesitatingly throw out a serious hint to the
effect that " foolery was not becoming in Christians."
If the Countess Promnitz, by her piety, by the
prudence with which she superintended a large household and maintained order among servants and dependants, by refined, truly noble manners, and particularly as a benefactress of the poor, had won universal
esteem, not only in the wide circle of those who were
surrounded, as by an invisible net, by the bounds of
the love of the crowned Lamb, but in all the surrounding country, and her whole life was animated by
a holy zeal, she yet had her sweet recreation, her soulrefreshing entertainment.  This was the long-established custom, so popular with many pious persons,
called " thumbing."




86              FIFTEEN YEARS.
No important household business was undertaken,
no journey was made, no contract entered into with
any tenant, dealer, or buyer, and altogether no step of
any consequence ever taken, without first asking the
advice of the ever-ready Word of God. After a short
prayer, the countess would insert her thumbs between
the leaves of the Bible, and was sure of finding, on the
pages thus opened at, the best advice, the true remedy,
or, if it was a matter of feeling, the greatest comfort.
She had succeeded so often in this, and the texts pointed out had invariably proved so suitable and appropriate, that even the count, though at first somewhat
incredulous, became converted. In consequence, he
would demonstrate to all who might still express a
doubt, with eloquence, or at least with many words,
that not only Count Zinzendorf and the learned and
pious Moser had always taken this mode of arriving
at a decision in doubtful cases, but that even the godly
Spener had not disapproved of it, but had permitted
his children to practise it, as quite an innocent thing.
He was inexhaustible, moreover, in examples of its
success of escapes from great dangers in consequence
of the advice thus obtained, of consolation in the
deepest sorrow, and even of conversions effected in
this manner.
But this trifling, this want of taste in form and
expression, constituted only the outer shell of German
pietism; its core was true Christian charity, which is
not satisfied with being active by faith alone, but
would also be known by its fruits. If the old archLutheran Amsdorf, in his blind fanaticism for the sufficing power of faith, fell into the absurdity of asserting




A PIETIST HOUSEHOLD.           87
that " good works were prejudicial to salvation," if the
purified Church had been, for more than a century, far
behind the mother-church in all manifestations of
charity, the former was finally thoroughly vindicated
by the institutions of Francke and all that was connected with them. An active Christian charity had
since become one of the healthiest fruits of so-called
pietism. In Silesia, too, asyliums for widows and orphans, and schools for the poor, had been founded, but
had been abolished again by strict government measures, as being independent of the Catholic Church.
Countess Benigna of Reuss, although she too considered a blind submission in all things to those in authority a Christain duty, did not, however, allow herself to
be disconcerted by this, for she said to herself: "The
law of God is higher than the ordinances of men."
While still a young woman, when on a visit to the
Duchess of Oels, she had witnessed the emigration of
the pious Mischke, in consequence of the sudden destruction of the charitable institution which had been
erected in that place. With prayers and tears she
had seen the long procession pass the palace; widows
and orphans, each carrying a small bundle, led by the
venerable pastor and the six preceptors. They went
on their way, resigned to God's will, praising Him for
His decree with weak voices touching to hear. Since
then the countess had retrenched her household expenses as far as propriety permitted in a nobleman's family; had conscientiously avoided all extravagance in
dress, and never, without prayer, had collected money
from friends. Thus she had succeeded, aided chiefly
by her relatives in Sorau; in reconstructing the de



88              FIFTEEN YEARS.
molished institution, on a smaller scale, in her own
home.
As a woman, she was less exposed to the vigilant
eye of the government. Her activity, moreover, was
for the present confined to her own sex, in which a
pietistic development was considered less dangerous.
She did not venture, however, to erect a special building for the purpose. She merely arranged a few rooms
on the ground-floor of Castle Wildeneck as schoolrooms. At the same time she collected all the orphan
girls from the neighboring villages and the surrounding country, and put them out to board with pious
widows, some of them among her tenants, whose cottages were clustered around the manor, some in the
village of Rauschwitz, in the immediate vicinity. On
these widows and orphans she kept a watchful eye.
Ever ready to help them either with advice or in deed,
she knew every thing that happened among them, and
it would have been hard to decide whether they loved
or feared the countess most.
Under such influences Agatha had grown up. She
was the youngest of seven daughters, all of whom but
herself had died in early youth. Providence had denied to this branch of the house of Promnitz all male
descendants, a dispensation all the more painful for
Count Casimir, that the principal line in Sorau seemed
also destined to become extinct with Count Erdmann's
childless sons, and the name of Promnitz appeared to
be dying out.
Countess Benigna, when the measles and a malignant dysentery epidemic among children carried away
one after the other of her tender buds, thanked the




A PIETIST HOUSEHOLD.           89
Lord Jesus on her knees, for assembling around His
throne these little ones, so dearly bought with His
blood, before their pure garments had become soiled
by the filth of the sinful world, and sang, with trembling voice, a hallelujah to the Lord for every wound
which His hand inflicted. But how she could reconcile with this spirit the unspeakable anguish which
rent her maternal heart again and again, as one little
coffin after another was borne from the house, containing, as it were, members of her body which had been
torn from it-that I know not. Perhaps she thought
herself, at such moments, a great sinner.  Enough
that a sevenfold love was lavished by both parents
on the only pledge which God had left them, although
the countess in particular felt that this child was the
sole tie which still bound her to this wicked world.
The young countess, or, as the unmarried daughters
of counts were wont to be called in those days, the
comtesse, was instructed to a certain degree also in all
the worldly acquirements which her rank demanded;
i. e., she took lessons from a governess, a lady of rank,
belonging to a refugee family, in French and all kinds
of female handiwork. The school-master of Rauschwitz, who had studied in Halle, and had been brought
up in the Orphan-House of that city-an humble soul
who kissed the hem of the countess's garments-instructed the "gracious comtesse" in reading and writing, and, as he was fortunately very musical, in playing
on the harpsichord and singing. The clergyman of
the same village, a man after the hearts of the noble
couple, for he also belonged to the school of Francke,
had taken upon himself, aside from her religious in



90              FIFTEEN YEARS.
struction, a course in geography, and another in universal history, in which latter his young pupil had to
learn so many dates by heart that she frequently shed
tears over them. He also commenced, at the particular wish of the count, to give the young lady lessons
in mythology, "because she would not otherwise be
able to understand any poems which she might read
at some future day;" in connection with which, however, the clergyman was politely requested to accompany this instruction with the necessary Christian
notes and explanations. But these lessons became, by
degrees, so distasteful to the countess, that they were
discontinued at her urgent entreaty.
Finally, that nothing might be wanting which was
requisite to the education of a young lady of rank,
the countess even made up her mind, when Agatha was
about thirteen, to join a circle of noble families who
were in the habit of engaging a ballet-master from
Vienna for the instruction in dancing of their young
ladies and gentlemen. The countess deferred in this
matter to the wishes of her husband, who, like many
pietists of the high nobility, was of opinion that dancing
exerted the best of influence on the outward deportment, and therefore considered the acquisition of this
frivolous art as most essential, even though its practice should be entirely dicontinued in the future. The
countess conformed the more readily to this view,
that her friend Count Zinzendorf had set her the example in so doing. He himself had told her that he
had submitted to instruction in dancing, for the
sake of its favorable influence on the carriage and the
movements of the body; but that he had never omit



A PIETIST HOUSEHOLD.           91
ted to invoke the aid of the Holy Ghost before each
lesson.
In remembrance of this hint, the countess too enjoined upon her daughter to pray to the Saviour before
the commencement of every lesson, and to entreat His
protection from all temptation. The little comtesse
was accustomed to obey her mamma blindly. She
therefore prayed conscientiously on each occasion, but
could not refrain, at the same time, from revolving
in her little head the question as to what temptation
there could be in her skipping to and fro, or gliding
along in the minuet, to the time of the music.
She comprehended much more readily why her
pious mother made her, even at an early age, the instrument of her benevolence, and her assistant in the instruction of her orphan pupils. For, in order to avoid
all interference from the government, the countess
had appointed no paid teachers, either male or female.
The school-master was the only person who, for a
slight addition to his small salary, was glad to undertake the instruction in writing and singing. The
Countess herself superintended the religious department; the lessons in reading and spelling were assigned to the young comtesse, while she willingly
gave up by turns the services of her maid and her
"chamber-wench," as the inferior waiting-maids were
called at that day, so that they might teach the girls
sewing and knitting.
Agatha's instruction was by far the most popular
in the school. And-truly it was beautiful and touching to behold the lovely, angelic child, seated on a
raised chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by




92               FIFTEEN YEARS.
twenty or thirty more earthly childish forms, and reading to them, while every eye hung upon her lovingly,
a chapter from the Bible; or to watch her dividing
the girls into classes according to their capacities,
hearing the spelling of the smaller ones, or directing
the reading-lessons of the more advanced.
This, however, was the only kind of intercourse
with the village-children which the noble couple allowed their daughter to hold, except that she was always her mother's almoner, particularly to the sick
and suffering; and no child of a peasant, or even of
an untitled family, was ever brought to the castle to
play with the little girl; for the high nobility of
that period were very strict with regard to the division of the classes; the pietistic nobility, which looked
upon the different orders of society as ordained of
God, particularly so. With all the simplicity of their
mode of life, they were punctilious in the observance
of a rigid etiquette, which had already partially disappeared from more fashionable circles: through the influence of the easier manners of the French. Even,
Zinzendorf, before his views had matured, and, as during his subsequent labors, he divested himself of all
worldly glory, ascended the pulpit, when he was about
to preach for the first time, with a decoration attached
to his black surplice, and a Heiduck, or servant in
Hungarian costume, carrying the Bible after him.:
Yet, in spite of every constraint, Agatha grew
up in an atmosphere of love. She could therefore
hardly be any thing but happy, however few youthful
pleasures she might enjoy. Nevertheless, a psychological observer, had such a one been near, could not




A PIETIST HOUSEHOLD.          93
but have noticed that the narrow-mindedness of those
about her, and the illiberality of the views which she
heard expressed, engendered in her a kind of unconscious mental oppression. While her mother felt at
home within the bounds of a decided dulness of existence, and a calm, devout serenity pervaded her
whole nature, and won her universal esteem and affection, Agatha often experienced a dull ennui, a kind
of wistful satiety, which at times gave to her beautiful eyes an almost melancholy expression. She
would yawn when she had to read to her parents from
Frau von Schlebusch's " Spiritually-domestic Medicinechest for the Soul," and often, at evening, would take
a volume of Jacob Bohme's works to her room with
her, and read in it with vague edification, although
she could hardly have understood much of the theosophic effusions of the singular cobbler. Whenever,
at the family devotions, the choice of the hymn to be
sung was left to her, she was sure to select oned by
Paul Gerhardt, or, better still, by Scheffler, while the
sentimental tinge of the hymns of Zinzendorf or Freylinghausen, which edified her mother, was distasteful
to the poetic feeling latent within her.
Her little flower-garden, which shone out brightly
from among the stiffly-cut hedges and dark walls of
yew of the castle-garden, and an old volizre in the
latter, in which she kept a number of foreign birds
of gay plumage, were indeed the only poetry of her
youthful life. She saw but little society of her own
age; but, from time to time, she would make a call on
some noble family of the neighborhood, or in Glogau,
where she occasionally passed a few winter months




94               FIFTEEN YEARS.
with her parents. At such times she would hear the
young ladies speak of the pleasures of life in Breslau
or in Vienna; of assemblies, and the opera, but without ever feeling much curiosity about the charms of
the world. And indeed, as has been mentioned, this
intercourse was very rare, and confined to but a few
families; the more so, that the nearest neighbors were
mostly beneath the young countess in rank, and the
officers' families in Glogau were in great part Catholics..Thus Agatha had almost insensibly grown up to
womanhood, and, if she had been exceedingly lovely
and attractive already as a child, she now promised
to develop an extraordinary beauty-a tall, slender
figure, as yet without the fulness, the fully-matured
outlines, which belong to perfect beauty; more bud
than full-blown rose, but light and graceful in every
motion, and not without a certain inherited refined
dignity. The perfectly regular, Grecian formation of
her face might perhaps also have been called too thin,
too delicate. But a dazzlingly-white skin, and cheeks
on which bloomed the loveliest roses, could not but
ensure her against every suspicion of feeble health.
The want of fulness in her face made her fine, soulful
eyes appear almost too large to those who were inclined to find fault. The same objection might have
been made to her mouth; but the exquisite teeth,
the rich hair, and the wondrously pure virgin brow,
could not but call forth the admiration of even those
who might have envied her.
As a matter of course, all these charms were not
lost, upon the young officers in garrison at Glogau.
While heretofore they had carefully kept at a distance




A PIETIST HOUSEHOLD.           95
from Wildeneck and the " old fanatic," as they called
the countess, they now, one by one, took steps toward
being introduced to the family. But all their endeavors were vain. The count and countess knew how to
ward off all such visitors, without any breach of politeness, although there were young men of their own
rank among them, and there was every reason to suppose that they had serious intentions; for Agatha, as
the only daughter of parents who were not, indeed,
wealthy, but still very well off, could be looked upon
as quite a good match. But should they throw away
their jewel upon a papist? Rather than that, they
avoided the city entirely, so as to cut off any possible
imperial interference, and thus, after Agatha had
reached her sixteenth year, the house in Glogau stood
empty also in winter.
The marriage of their beloved child at a proper
time, and in conformity with her own station, was frequently the subject of conversation between the affectionate parents. For about fifty years past, the descendants of the pietistic nobility-which comprised
about twenty families - had always intermarried.
Agatha's parents did not look beyond this circle for
carrying out their wishes. The marriages in these
pious houses presented in rare succession a certain degree of domestic happiness. Even a disagreement
was rarely heard of. No divorce had ever taken
place among them, and the number of children with
which they were blessed was incredible. Most of
these marriages had been the result of free choice and
affection. The wooer would apply to the parents,
who acquiesced, with the condition of the daughter's




96               FIFTEEN YEARS.
free consent. But if there was no question of compulsion, there was also none of any romantic affection.
A fervent love of Christ in common, and a moderate
liking for each other, seemed quite sufficient for the
joint pilgrimage through'life. Indeed," carnal affection," and too great a "creature delight" in each
other, were held to be rather a drawback to the quiet enjoyment of married life, than conducive to it.
These excellent people were in constant fear of becoming faithless to Christ, through love of the creature.
Count Zinzendorf voluntarily gave up the young
Countess Castell, with the full consciousness of bearing a deep love for her in his heart, because he feared
that she might become too dear to him. He willingly sacrificed his love, without the shadow of a necessity, to the Lord,' and married another " faithful handmaiden " of Christ, for whom he entertained merely a
hearty good-will. And in exactly the same spirit did
Spener, Moser, Biisching, and countless other pious
men, choose their wives, with whom they mostly lived
in a tolerably happy marriage relation.
This was the point of view'from which Agatha's
parents started when they thought of the marriage
of their daughter, and perhaps there would have been
found among the cousins in the third or fourth degreea marriage between near relations was disapproved'of
by many-some count who was pious enough for the
former, and sufficiently attractive to the girl herself;
perhaps she would have spun out her life in peaceful,
devout wedlock, rich in children, like hundreds of
other countesses, and I should have had nothing further to tell about her, if-Providence had not decreed
otherwise.




CHAPTER V.
THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE.
AGATHA was just eighteen when the still life of
her existence was broken in upon by an event which,
while it was the first of a series which affected the
whole world, was also destined to exert the most decisive influence upon her own fortunes, and to be for
her the beginning of a new life.
The King of Prussia suddenly appeared at the head
of a powerful army, on the frontier of Silesia, and the
scornful rejection of his demands could hardly have
reached him from Vienna before he had entered the
country as conqueror. The young queen was unprepared; the half of Silesia was already in the hands of
her hostile neighbor before she could recover from
her alarm and surprise.
The Protestant inhabitants of Silesia, restricted and
oppressed in various ways as they had been for more
than a. hundred years by the Catholic government,
looked forward to the King of Prussia, one of the chief
props of the Protestant Church, as a deliverer. But
when, immediately after his entrance, his magnanimous
proclamation enjoined perfect quiet and absence of
fear upon all inhabitants; when the unimpaired pos5




98              FIFTEEN YEARS.
session of their property was insured to them, and the
free exercise of their religion to all denominations;
when all the requisites of the army were paid for in
cash, and the strictest discipline was enforced among
the troops, all hearts went out to meet the young king,
and no conqueror was ever more joyously received.
The Count and Countess Promnitz shared these
sentiments. Nevertheless, they had thought it advisable, upon first receiving intelligence of the gathering
of the storm, not to await its breaking out at their
lonely castle; for there were but few towns or villages
in Silesia which were not associated with some fearful
tradition from the war between Sweden and Poland,
or even the Thirty Years' War. There was hardly a
form of barbarity extant in those terrible times-to
which the peaceful inhabitants had not been subjected;
hardly a humiliation of any kind to which the nobility
on their estates had not been forced to submit. Count
Promnitz, therefore, resolved to remove his family to
the neighboring Irnutral territory of Saxony. But, as
the "thumbs" would not elicit any suitable answer
on this subject, and repeated attempts failed (which,
however, was never mentioned in later life), the time
which should have been employed for the journey was
wasted, and the Prussian army was approaching before
a decision had been arrived at.  Feeling uncertain
about the safety of the public roads, the noble couple,
chiefly concerned on their daughter's account, finally
came to the sudden resolve of retiring to Glogau, and
occupy their house in that city for the rest of the winter, it being already December; but they had hardly
taken possession of it when the fortress was invested




THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE.        99
and regularly besieged.  The hereditary Prince of
Dessau established his headquarters in Rauschwitz,
while the king, with the rest of the army, penetrated
farther into the country.
After a siege of less than two months the Prussians
took the fortress of Glogau by storm. during a dark,
tempestuous night; but never yet had the world seen
an assault like this, which conquered walls and hearts
at once. The Prussians took possession of the city,
but no house was plundered, no citizen's rights encroached upon, not a single person offended by any
bold arrogance on the part of the victors. The only
thing demanded of the inhabitants was a ready reception of the wounded. The hospital was small, and
overfilled with the wounded of the garrison.
Thus it happened that at an early hour one morning-it was on the 10th of March, a day that impressed itself indelibly upon Agatha's memory-a bier
with a wounded officer was brought to the house of
Count Promnitz, who was requested by the accompanying surgeon to give shelter to the invalid. A
ball had already grazed the shoulder of the latter at
midnight, when the storming began, but the slight
wound which it occasioned had been disregarded by
the intrepid soldier, until at length the loss of blood
had brought on a deep fainting-fit.
The countess readily undertook the care of the
young warrior. Strong of nerve and tender of heart,
this was really the element in which the noblest part
of her nature could unfold itself. The founding of a
hospital had long been one of her favorite plans, and
she had prepared herself for it by the acquiring of varih




100             FIFTEEN YEARS.
ous kinds of useful knowledge, and exercised herself
on numerous occasions among relatives and the poor
in the treatment of wounds. The surgeon, after examining and binding up that of the young officer, soon
saw that he could safely leave him in charge of the
lady of the house, and hastened away to attend to
others.
The young man had hardly recovered his consciousness while under the surgeon's hands, when, at last, he
opened his eyes and found himself stretched upon a
lounge, clothed in fresh linen, and wrapped in an old
silk dressing-gown of the count's, and beheld two noble-looking ladies standing by his couch; he attempted
to raise himself quickly, but the countess restrained
him, spoke to him with motherly kindness, and exhorted him to be careful. He looked at her silently
with an expression of profound gratitude.  By her
side stood Agatha, like a lovely vision, her large, tearful eyes turned upon him in deep pity. On those eyes
his own rested, long, fervently, as if held there by
magic, until he swooned away again, and, being recalled to consciousness by artificial means, fell into a
deep sleep.
The reader has long since recognized in the wounded officer our poor friend Baron Moritz von Hohenhorst. A week passed before he could move freely
without increasing his fever to a dangerous degree;
for two weeks more he was detained within the fortress by command of his chief, the hereditary Prince
of Dessau; for this prince thought highly of him and
wished him to take care of himself, and be thoroughly
cured before he. again entered upon his duties. He




THE SPRPIN-TIME OF LIFE.       101
therefore assigned to him some slight employment in
the regular occupation of the fortress. These three
weeks, however, were sufficient to place him in the
closest relation to the whole family of Promnitz, and
with each of its members in a different way.
The count found in Moritz an entertaining companion, doubly welcome in these anxious war-times,
which cut him off from all outside occupation, and
who listened with interest to his reminiscences of
Prince Eugene of Savoy and the Turkish war. The
countess was prejudiced in his favor, for various other
reasons besides that of his claim to her Christian pity.
He belonged to a Saxon family of the oldest nobility,
and could show   that a Bruno "auf dem HohenHorst " had come to high honors already under Otto
the Illustrious. Having lost his parents at an early
age, a pious guardian had caused him to be educated
at the Pedagogium f in Halle, where, during his
boyhood, he had been placed under the immediate
supervision of Francke, until that worthy man was
taken away by death. What followed was less satisfactory, though still favorable enough to keep up
the interest of the countess. The young man had attended the University of Leipsic, and, without any
great struggle, had freed himself from all the mentally-limiting influences of his education, while he still
retained the firm belief in a revelation which had
grown up with him.   His inclinations directed him
chiefly to the aesthetic studies; he avoided all excesses of a coarse student-life, and, with the warmest feel* Horst, eyry; auf dem Hohen-Horst, on the high eyry.
t A high-school attached to the Orphan-House in Halle.




102              FIFTEEN YEARS.
ing for his neglected, scorned, even cruelly-abused
German land and language, he joined the circle of
thinking young men of kindred mind-as Schlegel,
Cramer, Gartner, and others-who, without following
the Swiss school of writers implicitly, had, under the
immediate influence of the classics and of English
literature, emancipated themselves from Gottsched.
Moritz had' hardly finished his studies,: when,
through the failure of an important mercantile house,
he lost his whole fortune. Upon this he entered the
Prussian army, which step he had long since felt inclined to take, and consequently arranged his studies'
accordingly. The favorable impression created by
his manly and agreeable exterior, his irreproachable
morals, and his uncommon strategic and mathematical
attainments, soon secured for him an advantageous
position, and, shortly after, the hereditary Prince of
Dessau appointed him one of his adjutants.
Having now: sketched Moritz's relations to the
parents, and given the short outline of his life which
he communicated to them, I fear I shall find it more
difficult:to describe in as few words his situation with
regard to the' daughter.
I do not believe in love at first sight, at least not
a- conscious love. And yet it is certain that the look
which the young officer, on awaking, turned upon the
maiden bending over him in compassionate anxiety —
a long, deep,  ondering look —penetrated to her inmost heart. He was suffering. He was the first man
of any mental superiority whom she had ever known.
As long as he was obliged to keep quiet, lying on the
lounge, and she, sharing the care of him with her




THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE.       103
mother, sat beside the latter, by his couch, he conversed almost exclusively with the elder lady. But
Agatha was perfectly aware that he was speaking for
her too, and knew whenever he looked at her, while
her own eyes were bent upon her work, and that he
did so often, and furtively, and again and again. She
would blush deeply, and yet it was so sweet to be
gazed at so silently, and yet far sweeter still to hear
him speak.
For his voice had a full, noble, manly tone, and
her native tongue commenced only through his lips
to grow dear to her. Her father and the other gentlemen of her acquaintance spoke the impure, unrefined
German of the day with the broadest Silesian or even
Austrian accent.  Her mother talked as she had
learned to talk in her youth, interlarding her Thuringian, old-fashioned German with French words and
expressions. In social intercourse with the neighboring nobility, the language chiefly made use of was
French, which was poor enough indeed, but, nevertheless, softer to Agatha's ears than the coarse German of her home, and which she much preferred to
the latter. But, in Hohenhorst's pure, cultivated German, there was a harmony that she had never, heard
before, and his mode of expressing himself had a
grace and conciseness, an almost epigrammatic brevity, that were entirely new to her. With marvellous
skill he would condense her good mother's diffuse sentences, or her own incoherent attempts at describing
one thing or relating another, into a comprehensive succinctness. It sounded strangely unreal when, on fitting occasions, he would quote poetry in conversation,




104             FIFTEEN YEARS.
and even German poetry-she had never heard the
like, except from her nurse, who at times, for the better expression of her feelings, used to repeat a fragment of some old German Volkslied or popular lay.
Every thing in him was new to her, new and yet not
strange. He was to her like an apparition from a
world unknown to her, and yet long since familiar
through her dreams. She began to be animated by a
quiet inward happiness, which beamed involuntarily
from her eyes, whose expression no one could now
have called melancholy, though they still retained a
dreamy, wistful look, which imparted to her an indescribable charm. It seemed as if each awakening
morn found her more beautiful, and the servants of
the house began privately to make remarks about
"the gracious comtesse and the young officer."
Yet these two had never been alone together for a
moment. When Moritz had recovered sufficiently to
go out for a walk during the day, with his arm in a
sling, the surgeon, however, still urgently advising him
to keep quiet and insisting upon his using the injured
arm as little as possible, the countess, one night when
prayers were over and the servants dismissed, proposed that the rest of the quiet evening should be devoted to reading aloud Jean Labadie's "Protestation
de bonne Foy," etc., for she was well enough versed in
French to admire her guest's fine pronunciation.
Moritz expressed his esteem  for Labadie, but requested permission to make the ladies acquainted with
the snow-drops of German literature, whose spring
was just opening. During his campaign, as well as
in travelling, he always carried some favorite books




THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE.        105
with him. In German poetry, the writer most admired
by the more intelligent German youth was Haller,
whose best poems, crowded with fine thoughts, and
wonderfully concise in expression for that period, appeared at a time when the whole German Parnassus
was still floating about in a deluge of shallow water.
When the countess had given her permission, and
she and the count, who cared'as little for Labadie as
for Haller, had settled themselves in their arm-chairs,
Agatha, delighted, brought her embroidery.   The
four wax-candles were placed close together upon the
table, before the reader.  In order to have enough
light for her work, the young countess was obliged to
seat herself close beside him. Moritz, not without
embarrassment, drew his book from his pocket, and
opened it at his favorite poem, "The Alps."
Our young friend had hardly read three pages,
with sonorous voice and subdued expression, when a
low snore announced that the poet's philosophical introduction had proved a lullaby for the count. The
reader noticed that the countess too sat there with a
very serious, almost forbidding mien. It was only the
rapt attention of Agatha, before whose soul, as it were,
a curtain was rising, behind which lay entirely unknown but long-yearned-for regions, that gave him
the courage to proceed. He came to the lines:
" No harsh restraint can ever Love's beauteous realm enthrall
Here, where the laws of Nature alone obedience claim;
Whoe'er of love is worthy, is freely loved by all:
True merit makes all worthy-with love it is the same."
Here the countess interrupted him with the observation:




106                 FIFTEEN YEARS.
"That appears very well in a poem, but those are
dangerous principles.     Altogether, a heathen      poet
might have written these verses quite as well as a
Christian author."
Moritz went on, though slightly disconcerted, and
reached the following passage:
"As soon as a young shepherd has felt the gentle flame,
Caught by a manly soul from a maiden's witching eyes,
His lips are never sealed by the timid thought of blame;
He frankly speaks the feelings that in his bosom rise.
She listens, and, if truly his suit deserve her smile,
Speaks as she feels, and, acting with Nature for her guide,
Can see no ground of scorn where the heart intends no guile,
In words by passion prompted, by virtue sanctified.
Here, too, the tie that binds them endures no pompous riteHe loves her, she loves him, and their marriage vow is this.
Their wedlock oft is only the mutual troth they plight,
Its oath a simple yes, and its seal a single kiss.
The nightingale salutes them with forest melodies,
Love makes of soft, light mosses their couch beneath the shade;
The lone wood is their witness, their tapestry the trees,
And to her bridegroom's bosom Love leads the willing maid.
Thrice-happy pair! the envy of those that wear a crown 1
Love makes your slumbers balmy, while Hate is couched on down."
Here the countess cleared her throat ominously,
and asked in a severe tone:
"Herr von Hohenhorst, are there any more such
equivocal passages in that poem?         In that case I
would rather request you not to read any more of
it!"
" You needhave no fear, honored madame," replied
Moritz, with' a suppressed smile.     "The poet begins
with the inhabitants of Switzerland, whom       he looks
upon as being nearer to a state of nature than those
of other portions of the world. Then he proceeds to




THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE.       107
the description of the -grand beauties of natural features themselves, which he considers alike as the
source and the bulwarks of the morality of his countrymen."
"After that which monsieur the baron has just
read, I should not think that the moralitg of these
people could be very pure."
Moritz felt that all explanations would be vain
here. "If the gracious countess will permit me to
proceed, she will assuredly admire the poet's power
and skill in depicting the various beauties of the
mountains and other natural features of Switzerland."
"Without doubt," replied the countess. "Yet too
ardent a creature delight in the created world is always hazardous. I would not say by that that we
ought not, to a certain degree, take pleasure in such
earthly gifts as God's mercy has granted to us, as long
as we do so with grateful reference to the Giver of all
good. I myself read the'Earthly Pleasure in God'
of the poet Brockes, some years ago, with much satisfaction."
"You will find, gracious madame, that Haller is no
less pious, only in another way."
"    Eh bien, monsieur the baron will please proceed,
then."
But Moritz thought it advisable to skip the next
fifty or sixty lines, which contained some further pictures of wedded and domestic happiness, and only to
begin again at parts specially devoted to the description of sublime or lovely natural scenery. He soon,
however, had reason to convince himself that the
mind of a pious follower of the school of Spener had




108             FIFTEEN YEARS.
room for no spiritual interest beside the one thing needful. A heavy regular breathing from the arm-chair of
the venerable lady soon announced that she too had unconsciously followed the example of her husband, and
before long a regular duet between a vigorous bass
and a softer soprano accompanied the voice of the
reader.
Moritz looked up, and met the arch smile of Agatha. " Poor papa and mamma are tired," she whispered. But her heightened color, her sparkling eyes,
showed him plainly that she was not tired.
"We will not disturb them," he replied, in the
same tone, and moved still nearer to her. He continued to read with subdued voice. From time to time
he would look up. Her work had long since dropped
from her hands. His glance met her eye each time.
She sat listening intently, breathlessly.. With inward
delight he saw the virgin susceptible soil of her mind
spread out before him. Happy the man to whom it
might be granted some day to cultivate it with loving
hands! There was an unspeakable charm in such
whispering, such sitting close beside each other!
"How beautiful that is!" said the young girl, softly, when Moritz had finished. "Some parts made me
feel as if I had seen something like it in our mountains
here. But in Switzerland, of course, every thing is
grander."
"And how true," he replied, also in a low voice,
"are these descriptions! Just so have I seen the crystal-mines, the baths of the Valais."
"You have been there?    You know Switzerland?"




TEE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE.          109
"I visited that delightful country during a vacation
while at the university."
Then he had to tell her, then she wanted to know
all about it. His descriptions were apparently far
more plastic and picturesque than those of Haller, to
judge from the countless questions which she asked,
the interest with which she listened. But gradually
he grew rather absent, and Agatha cast down her eyes,
she hardly knew why herself. A short pause occurred
in the conversation, hitherto so lively. The book had
long been closed. Suddenly Moritz opened it again,
and, after turning over the leaves a while, said with a
voice in which Agatha thought she discerned a slight
tremor:
"Haller has written still other beautiful poems.
In the elegies on his wife, whom death took from him
after a brief wedded happiness, there is much deep,
mournful feeling. Her name was Marianna, and he
retains this name in his poems. He is the first of our
poets who has taken the liberty of dropping the tasteless names of Arcadian shepherdesses which have so
long been used. In one of his former poems to her,
however," he continued rather more timidly, "he gives
her, according to the old custom, the name of Doris,
a name which, in fact, any. other girl may consider as
referring to herself.". And he read, his full manly
voice trembling slightly:
" Feel'st thou not, Doris, in thy heart,
The tender flame, the gentle smart,
No earthly pleasure half so sweet?
Shine not thine eyes with softer glow?
Doth not thy blood more swiftly flow,
Thy guileless bosom higher beat?




110              FIFTEEN YEARS.
"LCould but a shadow o'er thee steal
Of what two happy lovers feel,
Two hearts in wedded union met,
Then wouldst thou ask the guardian powers
To give thee back the long, slow hours
In which thy heart was idle yet."
I fear my readers will think these lines very oldfashioned. They were written, indeed, more than a
hundred and thirty years ago, and were probably even
then not thought to be Haller's chef-d'ceuvre.  But
Agatha, who was not as familiar with poetry, or even
rhymes, as the young ladies of the present day,
thought the verses melodious enough, and it seemed
to -her as if they had been made expressly for her.
She looked down, the lovely color in her cheek deepened. Moritz held the book in his right hand; hisleft, that was nearest to Agatha, was softly raised
to clasp hers.
At that moment the duet came to a stop. Moritz
seized the book with both hands. Agatha stooped to
pick up her work, which had fallen from her lap. The
countess started up in alarm.
"Please to excuse, monsieur the baron," she said,
in some confusion, "my want of politesse. I have been
on my feet a good deal this morning. Another time
you will find me a more civil listener. Come, my
love," she admonished the count, "it is time to go to
bed."
The young people, however, slept but little that
night, notwithstanding that it was time to go to bed.
Both went to their rooms, happy, rapturous; it would
be hard to decide which of the two was the happiest,
the most rapturous. Agatha felt that she was loved;




THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE.        11
Moritz that he was understood, and gladly understood.
Thus some days went by. Agatha attended to her
little domestic occupations, her needlework, her flowers, as usual, passing away the monotonous hours in
quiet inner happiness; while lMoritz was employed
more outside, and, as his cure progressed rapidly, spent
more and more time at the camp. One day he entered
the sitting-room of the Promnitz family with a quick,
firm, step. His eyes sparkled, and his face indicated
that he had received welcome news.  A propitious
fate so ordered it that Agatha happened to be sitting
all alone at her work-table by the window.
He stepped up to her resolutely. " Mademoiselle,"
he said, while his voice betrayed his deep inward emotion, "at length I am released from playing the part
of an idle looker-on, and my physician as well as my
general has given me permission to feel myself a
soldier once more. The latter is to leave for Steinau
to-morrow with several regiments, and I am to accompany him."
Agatha had changed color. Encouraged by this,
he proceeeded:
"The days which Heaven has permitted me to
spend under your roof, mademoiselle, have been the
happiest of my life. They were to me the awakening
to a new existence. Yes, even as, on awaking from
the swoon caused by my loss of blood, my first glance
fell into the heaven of your eyes, so I am now suddenly
translated from the apathetic state of my former life
to a consciousness of bliss, such as only the absorbing
feeling.of a fervent, glowing, eternal love can give."
He had seized her hand. She did not withdraw it.




112             FIFTEEN YEARS.
She sat, leaning her head upon her other hand, her elbow resting upon the table. She sat silent, in joy and
fear. Tear upon tear dropped from her eyes.
"Agatha," continued Moritz, "I know that I, a
poor lieutenant, may not venture to lift my eyes to
the countess of the empire; but I have hopes that this
war will offer me the means of drawing nearer to you.
If, with God's help, I should succeed in winning honor
and fame, and with them a higher position, beloved,
adored Agatha, may I, may I ask your parents for
the treasure of this hand?"
Agatha started. The mention of her parents suddenly raised up difficulties and obstacles before her
mind like a dark wall. Moritz only half-understood
her. He drew back, but almost involuntarily she retained his hand.
"Speak, dearest Agatha!" he went on; " time
presses. Let me carry that consolation with me. But
I can do nothing without your permission."
She still remained silent, weeping quiet tears.
"Speak," he said, more urgently, bending toward
her, so that she felt his breath. "One single word,
yes or no!"
" Yes," she whispered.
Is it necessary to tell how the happy man expressed
his grateful rapture?
And, indeed, it was high time for an answer, for
the count and countess entered the room a few moments after. They received the news of Moritz's intended departure with cordial interest; and when the
farewells had to be said a few hours later —for Moritz
was obliged to start from the camp-there was no lack




THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE.       113
either of warm expressions of gratitude on the part of
him who had been so kindly cared for, nor of fervent
and diffuse blessings and prayers from the worthy
couple. Agatha was stunned, as it were. She hardly
ventured to show the tears without which she would
hardly have witnessed the departure of any man, however indifferent to her, from her house for the immediate scene of war. But Moritz looked as inexpressibly
happy as if he had already accomplished the victory
which, with courageous heart, he was starting forth to
gain.
And Fortune smiled upon the wishes of the brave
young soldier. A week later, the fame of the bloody
victory at Mollwitz spread over all Europe. A dearlybought triumph, indeed'! for, of the army of the conqueror alone, two thousand five hundred corpses covered the field of battle, and three thousand wounded
lay in the hospitals or in the cottages of the neighboring villages. The great Field-Marshal Schwerin was
the real hero of the battle, but the hereditary Prince
of Dessau, Moritz von Hohenhorqt's commander, by
whose side he fought, decided the victory at last, and
the young man had the advantage of being able to
accomplish before his eyes heroic deeds which in any
other situation might not have met with the full acknowledgment which was bestowed upon them under
such favorable circumstances. He was highly praised,
advanced in rank,eand the prospect of a decoration,
which a hundred years ago was a hundred times more
valuable than now, was held out to him.
Agatha, meanwhile, had lived in an intoxication of
mingled anxiety and bliss. At a period where there




114             FIFTEEN YEARS.
were no telegraphs, she could not hear any thing about
the battle until all was happily over; but the thought
of her beloved was at all times mixed with a secret
fear, because of the danger to which he was daily and
hourly exposed, even without an actual battle, which
all the piety inculcated by her education could not
teach her to overcome. When at length a letter from
Mioritz arrived, addressed to the countess, in which he
mentioned his good fortune in modest terms-when
she had to read this letter, from which, through all the
enforced ceremoniousness of a rigid etiquette, there
spoke a genuine warmth of feeling to her parents, she
could hardly contain herself. It was so sudden, with
such unexpected rapidity, that she saw herself brought
nearer to the end which the beloved one had called up
before her soul. From day to day she hoped that her
mother would notice the state of agitation which she
was in, the feverish restlessness in which she had lived
since Moritz's departure, but so entirely- foreign to
the good old lady's comprehension was the state of a
carnal love," that it never entered her mind that her
modest daughter, brought up in the love of a heavenly
Saviour, could bear in her heart the image of an earthly man, before he had formally solicited her hand of
her parents.  The count came rather nearer to the
matter. He asked the countess one night, while they
were retiring, whether'she did not think Agatha had
exhibited, since Baron Hohenhorst's departure, rather
more restlessness and excitement than would be likely
to be caused by mere Christian pity on account of the
dangers to which the young man was exposed. But
the countess, in the first place, was rather vexed by




THE SPRING-TIME OF LIFE.       115
the expression, " mere Christian pity."  She explained
to her husband in a long speech, and in her usual not
very concise manner, that Christian compassion was
the warmest of all feelings. He was tired, and could
have wished that he had not said any thing, so as to be
able to sleep; but when she tried to prove to him, in
the second place, that Christian compassion ought not
to be mingled with a carnal anxiety, which ill befitted
the sinner redeemed by grace and the blood of Christ,
who ought to rest therein like an infant in its cradle,
full of trust in God, and resignation to His will, he
felt dimly that by this last argument she accepted, in
reality, his own view. Being, however, fully accustomed to consider his wife wiser than himself, he
readily agreed to every thing, and thus could go quietly to sleep.
The victory at Mollwitz was followed by the occupation of Breslau and the surrender of Brieg. Otherwise, however, the war was carried on only by small
skirmishes, and more than a year passed before another regular battle was fought, which finally turned the
scale in favor of the conqueror. The king was right
in not fully trusting Saxony, although it had apparently allied itself to him. He therefore considered it advisable to keep watch of the northeastern frontier,
where Polish troops were rallying. Hence the camp
at Glogau, which had been broken up two weeks after
the battle of Mollwitz, had to be pitched again six
weeks later, and the regiment to which Moritz's company belonged, with several others, was ordered
thither.




CHAPTER VI.
ONl TO THE GOAL.
WITH the beginning of spring the Promnitz family had returned to their rural castle, where all its
several. members felt more at home than in town.
The count went fishing and trolling in the daytime;
in the evening he made up his accounts with the steward, or had Agatha read to him from Ardnt's "True
Christianity." The ladies, too, had returned to their
old occupations, the household resumed its regular routine, the school flourished as before, and every thing
was again as it had been the previous spring, the more
that, to the regret of the peasants, who had profited by
the presence of the soldiers, the camp had been broken
up, and, with the exception of the garrison at Glogau,
there were no longer any Prussian troops in the vicinity. Agatha alone was transformed, as it were. The
state of her soul beamed from her eyes and ennobled.her features. Love had proved a Pygmalion for her.
The family had moved out in May. Already in
the beginning of June, Prussian troops again appeared
in the neighborhood, and were cordially welcomed by
the inhabitants. The military discipline enforced was




ON TO THE GOAL.             117
so strict that the count and his household were but
little disturbed in their quiet life. But a circumstance
occurred which soon brought them more into contact
with the outer world.
The fields, which had been covered with the tents
of the former camp, had been used for this purpose
in winter without much injury to their owners. But
now, in spring, they had been ploughed and sowed;
and the hopes of support of several families rested
upon them. The owners, therefore, entered a protest,
and would not be satisfied with the indemnity offered
to them, when they were ealled upon again to give up
the fields on which their prosperity depended. It was
known that Silesia was not to be treated as hostile territory, and great consideration was used in trying toinduce the peasants to yield.
The latter applied, as in all cases of difficulty, to
Count Promnitz. He talked the matter over with his
wife, who made the generous proposition that, in'order
not to injure these poor people, and at the same time
remain on good terms with the Prussian authorities,
they themselves should make a sacrifice; that they
should offer one of their own fields, which, on account
of its stony soil, had but little value, and an adjoining meadow, as a site for the camp, and hand over
the compensation to the quartermasters: for she advised her husband by no means to appear as a tradesman in this matter, but to maintain his full dignity as
count of the empire. And this warning would hardly have been necessary, for Count Casimir was no less
generous than she. Moreover, he was glad of an opportunity of obliging a government which he was




118              FIFTEEN YEAES.
soon to call his own; for, after the battle of Mollwitz, no one doubted that lower-Silesia at least would
be yielded to Prussia when peace was concluded.
The count, therefore, immediately entered into negotiations with the officers concerned in the matter,
and his proposition was accepted with polite thanks.
He came into contact, on this occasion, with a Count
Nastitz, who filled the rank of major, and who made
the most disagreeable impression upon him; a middleaged man of colossal build, with a dusky-red face, on
which wild passions had left their mark. His comrades knew him to be a coarse, arrogant fellow;: but
as he was man of the world enough to hide his character, which was immoral besides, by the veil with which
the customs of elegant society superficially cover even
the lowest vices, the worst features of his inner man
did not immediately appear before the count, except
that his constant swearing, and the profane expressions
with which his lips overflowed, were excessively repugnant to the former.
But, when the two gentlemen met again shortly after, Nastitz took evident pains to restrain himself also
in this respect before the " pietists," and pleaded the
excuse of having fallen into bad habits, hardly to be
avoided in the field, which the count would probably
remember from the time of his own former war experience. And for this war experience, the major.manifested a special interest; envied the count for having
fought under Prince Eug.ne of Savoy and against the
Turks, and exercised so much skill in flattering the
worthy old gentleman's innocent little weaknesses,
that he half conciliated him. When, therefore, the




ON TO THE GOAL.             119
major, at the close of the interview, asked permission
to. pay his respects to the gracious countesses, the
count did not think, as he would have thought before,
that he could refuse this request without great impoliteness, and hence replied, with a stiff bow and some
embarrassment, that the ladies would feel honored
by the proposed visit.
The count did not know-though all the officers in
the camp were aware of it-that the major had seen
the lovely Agatha while riding, and in church, and
that he had declared, with a thousand oaths, by which
he invoked heaven and hell, that he was desperately
in love with the "charming creature." All his being
in love, however, did not guard him against an icycold, stiff, though civil reception at Castle Wildeneck,
any more than this reception guarded the ladies there
against the major's visits; for, with every visit, he
found the mother, indeed, more tedious, but the
daughter more lovely.
Tired of his long, dissolute bachelor-life, he had for
some time been thinking of marriage; but, like many
other men, none but the youngest, loveliest, and most
virtuous, could satisfy him, although he himself was
neither young, handsome, nor virtuous, and could
offer nothing in return for such qualities in his chosen
one but wealth and a position in society. Agatha
charmed him, almost more than by her beauty, by her
total ignorance of the world, and by that which in
the " old woman" he thought excessively tedious, her
piety.
He sought to win the favor of the mother by edifying conversations, by telling her about the churches




120             FIFTEEN YEARS.
in Berlin, the great piety of the defunct king, and the
much-admired sermons of Archdeacon Siissmilch, during which ladies of the highest rank were often obliged
to stand for hours- without, however, mentioning
that he had never attended these services except when
his regiment had been under command to do so, and
that Siissmilch was the only preacher in Berlin whom
he knew even by name, because he happened to be
the most fashionable one.  But, if he had gone to
work ten times more skilfully to insinuate himself into
the countess's favor, he would not have succeeded;
for the shrewd old lady would, under any circumstances, have recognized in him not only the hypocrite,
but by his face the rouz also, and, by the oaths which
now and then escaped him, the profane child of the
world. He did not, therefore, advance a single step,
and, after a while, Agatha, in consequence of a welcome
hint from her mother, no longer made her appearance
during the calls of Major von Nastitz.
Nevertheless, passion and pride, which led him to
trust in his wealth and his position, spurred him on
to a written declaration, and a proposal of marriage in
due form. The count, to whom he addressed himself,
refused his demand, without a moment's hesitation,
with icy politeness, thanking him, in his daughter's
name, for the intended favor, but pronouncing her too
young to think of marriage.
After this the major's calls were discontinued, and
the family heard no more about him.
About this time, Moritz arrived in Rauschwitz.
He had enjoyed the favor, before rejoining his regiment, of having been employed, on account of his un



ON TO THE GOAL.              121
usual strategical knowledge, for some extraordinary
services, on its staff. Thus the attention of the king
had again been directed to him. Nor was this the
first time since the battle of Mollwitz. During several
skirmishes which had occurred, he had had repeated
occasions for brilliantly distinguishing himself. This,
too, had brought his name again and again to the
king's ear.  When, therefore, Moritz's commander,
the hereditary Prince of Dessau, who, like some of
the other officers, had formerly been wont to rally him
good-naturedly upon his relations to the house of
Promnitz, dismissed him, that he might rejoin his regiment in Lower Silesia, he took occasion to mention
the matter to the king.
Frederick, on hearing Hohenhorst's name, observed
that he intended to bestow a special reward upon this
young officer for his excellent services, upon which the
hereditary prince remarked, with a laugh, that his
majesty could not reward him more satisfactorily than
by marrying him to the young Countess Promnitz, a
rich heiress in Lower Silesia, "for," he added, "the
poor fellow is desperately in love with her," The king,
who, as is well known, was fond of gossip in his
younger days, and particularly at this time of his first
advance toward fame, constantly required his correspondents to tell him "what was talked about in Berlin," and- "'what was the news," grew curious, and
wished to know all about the matter. Marriage connections of his officers with the nobility of Silesia, which
province he'strove to secure to himself and his race in
every.way, could not but be welcome to him. Here
particularly there was an opportunity of uniting one of
6




122             FIFTEEN YEARS.
the highest families of Silesia with the fame of Prussian
valor. True, marriages of officers during war-time
were prohibited. But, in the first place, there need be
only an engagement for the present; and, secondly,
with the royal sanction, an exception might be made.
Thus, when Moritz presented himself before his
majesty the next day, to pay his respects before leaving, the king, after giving him some official commands,
asked him in French, with a slightly-roguish smile:
I am told that you are acquainted with Count
Promnitz?-a pietist, as I hear."
"I know him, sire," replied MIoritz; "a perfectly
honorable man, and very devoted to your majesty."
"He proved himself very obligeant on a recent
occasion. If you will take to him this my acknowledgment of his services, you may find it a good recommendation, in case you might have a favor to ask
of him."
With this the monarch handed the astonished
young officer a sealed letter, dismissed him with a
wave of his hand, and turned to one of his generals
who stood beside him. Thus Moritz was spared the
necessity of expressing his thanks, which was fortunate for him, as he could only have done so most incoherently, owing to his joyful surprise, and would
have made himself ridiculous in the eyes of the bystanders.  What was in the letter?  What could
there be in the letter? The thought that it might
contain a recommendation of him as a wooer, crossed
his mind, but he rejected it as quickly as it came.
"How foolish! " he said to himself. "What can
the king know about the desire of my heart? What




ON TO THE GOAL.            123
he meant was only the general fact that the bearer of
a royal letter carried his own recommendation with
it. And, for that reason alone, I ought to be glad that
the king chose me for this purpose. God be thanked,
that His providence has given me occasion to recommend myself in person to the count, who lknows how
to appreciate military honors "
Yet he could not drive the letter from his mind.
He reached the camp in great uneasiness. It was
evening; he stole around the outside of the castle
garden, in the hope of seeing Agatha at least at a distance, of being able to give her a sign that he was
near. He could not bear to think that, after so long a
separation, his first meeting with her must be in the
presence of her stiff, formal parents, and his longing
to call the beloved one his own was increased almost
to a fever. But in vain. The-high hedges of yew
prevented any view of the interior of the garden. The
house stood in the shadow of lofty trees. It had
hardly a window in front of which some branch did
not make a kind of screen; and he did not even
know on which side Agatha's room was situated.
Late in the evening he saw the gleam of a white dress
among the foliage of the linden-trees, which rose above
the balcony. The question came to his mind whether
he should not begin to sifng; whether she would recognize his voice-but the thought that it might be the
old lady of whom he had had a glimpse, or that he
might expose himself to the danger of a possible flirtation with some sentimental lady's-maid, deterred
him. The poor lover had at last to make up his mind
to wait patiently till morning, and prepare the way




124              FIFTEEN YEARS.
for the meeting with his loved one by a formal visit
to her parents.
The morning came at length; and as there was a
royal letter to be delivered, that is, important business
to be transacted, Moritz considered it his duty not to
wait till noon, the ceremonious hour for calls. He entered Castle Wildeneck with a beating heart. Kerkow, the old servant of the family, received him joyfully. The gracious countess, he said, had gone to
ride with the comtesse, but monsieur the count would
be rejoiced to see monsieur the captain once more;
for not only the family, but all the servants also, had
followed Moritz in thought through his campaign, and
been delighted by every honorable mention of his name.
The count received him with all the warmth of
which he was capable, and with a paternal embrace.
He congratulated him upon such a distinguished beginning of his active military career, and prophesied a
future general in him. It can be easily imagined that
this reception encouraged Moritz, and that he was in
a measure consoled for Agatha's absence, by hearing
her father regret repeatedly that mother and daughter,
who would be enchanted to see him again, had just
driven out to visit some sick persons in one of the
neighboring villages.
At length it was the latest time to deliver his
majesty's letter.  The count received it with unfeigned astonishment. While he opened and read it,
Moritz stepped to the window, and looked down into
the garden. He stood there, troubled in mind, and
waiting for the.count to give him a sign when he
should have finished the letter.




ON TO THE GOAL.             125
But, as the count remained silent, he at length
turned toward him again. To his amazement, he saw
the old gentleman sitting in his arm-chair with a cold,
solemn, totally transformed mien, the king's letter in
his hand. The young man's dismay increased when
the other rose with stiff dignity, made him a deep,
ceremonious bow, and said:
"I shall have the honor of letting monsieur the
baron know when madame the countess will be in
readiness to receive monsieur the baron."
Moritz could hardly trust his ears, his eyes. But
a second formal obeisance from the count left him no
choice. He was forced to respond to it with a bow of
at least equal depth, and in this manner saw himself,
without being able to utter a word, politely bowed
out of the room, and, as the servants outside threw
open the doors before him, out of the house, ere he
had time to collect himself.
He was beside himself with indignation and grief.
"What does this mean?" he asked; "what can the
king's letter have contained that could possibly have
had such an effect? What can I have done to have
occasioned it? And, now, what must I do? What
remains to me but to wait for an invitation? And
just now, when the conditions are fulfilled, on which
alone I myself asked Agatha's permission to demand
her hand! "
He spent the day in the most burning anxiety.
Fortunately, the entering upon his new position, as
captain of a company, gave him ample occupation.
But at evening he could bear it no longer. No message from Wildeneck had come. His anxiety drove




126             FIFTEEN YEARS.
him from the house. He intended to prowl about the
castle, as he did the night before; perhaps make his
way into the garden, in the hope of being more fortunate than yesterday, of possibly seeing the darling
girl, of letting her know that he was there. He walked
on at the top of his speed; but suddenly he stopped.
"No! " he cried; " I will not entice the pure mind of
the dear child, who has been brought up to obedience
and filial submission, to any secrecy.  I have nothing
to conceal; I will act openly, as becomes a man of
honor. I must clear up this matter; I will write this
very evening. The count must explain his behavior.
The time has come when it is no longer too great a
presumption to ask for my darling's hand, when her
heart is already mine."
He returned home, seated himself at his desk, and
found means, in spite of the stiff ceremoniousness required by the epistolary style of the day-in which all
warmer expressions of feeling were in danger of being
suffocated by a swaddling-band of such expressions as
"your high-born worship," the " count's grace," " having the honor," " remaining till death," etc.-to put his
fervent, faithful, adoring love for Agatha into impressive words. He explained his position, his prospects, his
advantages, through the distinctly-expressed favor of
the king, in modest and respectful terms; and only
hinted at his surprise at the count's altered manner,
without alluding to the possibility of its having been
caused by the king's letter. For, on mature reflection,
he had entirely discarded this idea, and quite convinced himself that Frederick could not have written
him a letter such as David gave to Uriah.




ON TO THE GOAL.             127
It had grown too late to send the letter that evening. He knew that the venerable couple had some
difficulty in reading writing by candle-light, and could
suppose that they would hardly think proper to have
this letter first communicated to them by Agatha's
fair lips.
The count, on Moritz's departure, had awaited the
return of his ladies with some impatience. When he
heard the carriage, he immediately sent his valet to
beg the countess to come to his room without delay.
"I trust that your father may not be unwell," said
the old lady to Agatha, as Kerkow helped her out of
the carriage, and she went to join her husband immediately.
The old servant now held out his supporting arm
to his young mistress, and said, smiling as much as
respect would permit:
"Monsieur the Captain von Hohenhorst has arrived in camp, gracious comtesse."
Agatha's beaming eyes, and the color which overspread her face, thanked him for his news quite as expressively as her lips could have done. He followed
her up the stairs, smiling gleefully to himself, with the
intention of telling her that "monsieur the baron had
already called himself, and how well and strong he
was looking;" for his long, faithful services had won
for him the privilege of sometimes beginning a conversation, and he loved Agatha particularly, whom he
had seen grow up from her cradle, with paternal affection-only that fathers have not the thousandth part as
much humble respect for their daughters as he felt
for his high-born young lady.




128             FIFTEEN YEARS.
But Agatha, feeling the need of being alone with
her overwhelming feelings, ran up before him to her
room. At the door she only turned to him with the
question, "I hope all is well with my father, my good
Kerkow? " and, satisfied with the affirmative answer
which she received, she slipped into the room. Thus
she did not even learn that her lover had already paid
his respects to her father.
Meanwhile the countess had entered her husband's
room. He received her with the words: " I have the
strangest affair to communicate to you, my love, that
has ever happened to me."
"I observe," replied the countess, full of interest,
"that monsieur the count has received a letter. May
the dear Saviour grant that it be no Job's message!
but if it should be the will of the most High to chasten you, and me with you, we will endeavor to bear
the infliction with humility."
" On the contrary," was the count's answer-as he
pushed an arm-chair toward his wife, and seated himself beside her-" on the contrary, it is a very gracious
letter from the King of Prussia, a letter which many a
Silesian cavalier would look upon as an eminent flatterie andfaveur. Read it, my love."
The countess put on her spectacles, and read with
the utmost-surprise the following lines:
" MY DEAR COUNT PROMNITZ:
"I have learned with satisfaction that you have
proved yourself very obligeant in the accommodation
of my troops in the county of Glogau, and shall gladly take the first occasion that offers to prove to you




ON TO THE GOAL.             129
my gratitude. I send you this through Captain Baron von Hohenhorst, a very brave officer, and a cavalier of the highest nobility, whom I hereby recommend
to you as a son-in-law, having heard that you have
a fair and virtuous daughter. I remain
"Your well-affectioned king,
" FREDERICK."
"Well, what do you say to that letter, my love?"
inquired the old gentleman.
"Has Baron Hohenhorst solicited the hand of our
daughter? " asked the countess, after a pause.
"By no means. Ie was here himself this morning, while you were out, and brought me this letter.
But he made no offer of marriage, and Agatha's name
was not mentioned.
"And what is here, honored sir, in this most gracious letter, that has so embarrassed, and, if I am notquite mistaken, so irritated you?"
The count was silent a while. "I am not the subject
of the King of Prussia," he at length said, in a tone
of annoyance. "He has no right to lay commands
upon me. I am a count of the Holy Roman Empire,
and none but his majesty the emperor has a word to
say to me."
" You are not now a subject of the King of Prussia;
but, as a Silesian landed proprietor, you will soon be
one; for, since the great bataille in April, it is, as you
are yourself aware, honored sir, against all probability
that the queen should be able to conclude a treaty of
peace without yielding up to this young king, whom
the providence of the most High seems to have chosen




130             FIFTEEN YEARS.
to be the earthly protector of the oppressed evangelical Christians of Germany, at least a few counties,
in which all your estates-are situated, my love."
"Well," said the count, "even if I should become
his subject, I do not wish to have my afaires de famille interfered with by either king'or emperor. No
one has a right to command me to whom to give my
daughter."
"You forget, my love, if you will kindly permit me
to say so, that this letter of the king contains no command, but only a recommendation. I find myself'induced, however, my dear sir, to remind you of the
far more arbitrary manner in which the imperial government interfered with your acfaires defamille about
twenty years ago, when madame, your grand-aunt,
the Duchess of Saxe-Dahme, after she had already
snatched her young grand-daughter from the jaws of
the devil, as it were, by an abduction, was forced by
imperial command to give the unfortunate comtesse up
again, and to let her be ruined, body and soul. You
know, my love, that the wicked and ungodly Countess
Kallenberg-Tenczin, when your cousin, her daughter,
was placed under the protection of the duchess her
grandmother, yielded up her maternal rights to the empress, and that that princess, who herself had bought the
imperial crown with the salvation of her soul, claimed
the young comtesse, with the threat of a fine of eighteen
thousand ducats in the case of her being withheld.
You will remember, too, that, as pious Count Erdmann
in Sorau was utterly unable to raise such a sum, the
unhappy young lady was taken to Vienna, placed in a
convent, and forced to renounce the Lutheran religion,




ON TO THE GOAL.             131
and give her hand in marriage to a papist noble. Now
compare, if I may request you to do so, my dear sir,
this style of interference with that of this Protestant
king, who is himself still under the law, indeed, but
who yet declares himself willing to protect the little
flock of Christ from all oppression."
The count was somewhat stunned by the -eloquence
of his lady, and had lost the thread of his own
thoughts. The wound which the short, pithy tone of
the king had inflicted upon his pride, as count of the
empire, was already beginning to heal under the gentle
hands of the countess, when he saw that she looked
upon the matter in a different light.
"Would an alliance de mariage between our only
child and a Prussian officer have your sanction, then,
my love? " he asked, somewhat abashed.
"Monsieur the count will kindly allow me to remark that in reality there is not yet any question of
such an event, since Baron Hohenhorst has not yet applied to us for Agatha's hand; but if you wish to-know
my opinion on the subject, my love, I would take the
liberty of observing that the fact of his being an officer
should not deter us. It is true, indeed, that war is a
terrible, unchristian evil; but the Lord has awakened
faith also in warriors. The centurion of Capernaum
was full of a faith such as our Lord declared He had
not found in all Israel;'and Cornelius, the centurion
of the Italian band, was he not even chosen of the Lord
to receive a divine revelation? The present day, too,
furnishes examples of pious officers, as we ourselves
know by experience in several instances; Field-Marshal
von Arnim, General Natzmer, the step-father of our




132              FIFTEEN YEARS.
beloved ordinarius,* General Wutgenau, whom we
ourselves entertained at this our own house a few years
ago, when it was our privilege to offer up prayers in
common with him to the crowned Lamb. In my own
family, too-"
Here the count, who had long been expecting, with
some degree of modest confusion, that his own ten
years of war-life would at length have their turn in being mentioned, interrupted his wife, not without some
irritation. He did not, indeed, lay claim to having
conducted himself precisely like a saint during that
time; but he had bravely withstood all temptations of
going over to the Catholic Church, and had thus, as it
were, become a martyr to Lutheranism, through being
neglected in the service, and resigning in consequence.
" Ma chore," he said, "I do not doubt in the least,
nor does any one in his senses doubt, that there are
God-fearing individuals in every condition of life. But,
as far as I know, a man must have something besides
piety to make him fit to be our son-in-law."
The countess, who noticed immediately that she
had made a mistake, changed her course at once. " Excuse me, honored sir," she said, "for mentioning that
first which is most important to both of us. But you
were the first to express to me the opinion that the
baron is an excellent and amiable young man, and
thoroughly qualified to insure the happiness of a modest and religiously-brought-up young lady. With the
high respect which I have always entertained for your
knowledge of human nature, your judgment has had
no small influence on my own. I would not convey
*An ecclesiastical dignity of that day.




ON TO THE GOAL.            133
by this that I would already count him among those
who are freed from all earthly bonds; but it seems to
me as if his Christian education had prepared him sufficiently, that he might, if he marries into a God-fearing
family, such as, without spiritual pride, I may call our
own, gradually cast off those bonds, and thus become
one with Jesus. But I would not forestall in this the
judgment of my respected husband."
" You are quite right," rejoined the count. "And
there is nothing to be said against his title. He is
not rich, but that does not matter to us; we have
enough for our only child."
"'A good name is rather to be chosen than great
riches,' saith the wise Solomon," replied the countess,
" and the prophet Jeremiah hath it: (Let not the rich
man glory in his riches, but let him that glorieth glory
in this, that he understandeth and knoweth me, that I
am the Lord."'
"In case the offer is made, then," observed the
count, after some reflection, " all that we have to do
is to learn whether Agatha likes him or not. And
quant d cela," he added, smiling, "you are already
aware of my opinion on the matter."
And perhaps the count would have remained exempt from listening to a new dissertation from his
lady's lips on the incompatibility of " carnal love " and
"creature delight" with the true love of Christ, could
she have watched her pious little daughter as she appeared in her room at this moment.
The dear child, after bolting the door behind her,
had sunk upon a chair, breaking out into tears of joy.
"He has come! " she cried in transport, clapping her




134             FIFTEEN YEABS.
hands, "he has come!"  But it was only for a moment that she gave way to this joy without thinking
of the Author of all joys. Gratitude to God, even for
the slightest pleasure granted to her, had, through her
education, become so habitual to her, that a want of
her heart seemed unfulfilled if outward obstacles, for
instance the presence of strangers, prevented her from
giving audible expression to her thanks. For every
present which she received, for every useful undertaking in which she succeeded, she had been taught to
thank, not only the earthly giver of the former or promoter of the latter, but also the Saviour, on her knees.
The count, who had long since become resigned to the
fact that his wife had the precedence of him, as well in
piety as in wisdom, was soon forced to observe that
his young daughter, too, exceeded him in kneeling devotion; but was wont to excuse himself quite seriously
by pleading that the cause of his being behindhand in
piety lay in his increasing corpulence, which made it
difficult for him to kneel.
On this occasion, Agatha was led to God by an
overwhelming feeling of grateful happiness.  Altogether, the anxiety which she had experienced on
Moritz's account, since his departure for the scene of
war, had been very much modified by an indescribable
inner feeling of rapture, as well as by her implicit confidence that the kind heavenly Father would direct all
for the best; Had she wept much since her separation
from her lover, had she been low-spirited, and grown
pale and thin, her affectionate mother would perhaps
have felt more inclined to believe in her modest daughter's " creature love." But seeing her constantly in a




ON TO THE GOAL.             135
state of inner joyful exaltation, her eyes brighter, her
cheeks more rosy than ever, her walk more elastic, all
her movements more resolute-these were symptoms
for the recognition of which the countess, with all her
maternal affection, was not prepared.
Agatha, as we have hinted above, had been awakened by love to a new life. Moritz had met her " at
the entrance of this world," and, though she could
not express it as beautifully as Thekla, love had borne
her too to "life's lofty summit." An unknown world
lay before her, bathed in sunshine, for her first glance
had also fallen into the heart of the beloved one. All
the afternoon she hoped that he would come; but she
was not cast down when he did not appear. "His
duties as an officer," she told herself, " keep him away;
he will certainly come to-morrow." She was in constant expectation of hearing her parents mention him
and his arrival. " Strange," she thought, "that Kerkow has not told them of his return!"  Twice, thrice,
she tried to broach the subject, but the hot blood
which rushed to her face each time warned her against
the attempt. She could not muster the courage to
speak.
Early the next morning a letter was handed to the
count. But no letter was ever opened until morning
prayers were over. At breakfast the count opened
the document, looked at the signature, and made a
sign to the countess. "You need not wait for us, my
daughter," said the latter, "in case you would like to
attend to your flowers." Agatha thought to herself,. "Thou metst me at the entrance of this world."- Schiller's
Wallenstein.




136             FIFTEEN YEARS.
"A business letter! "-rose, made a respectful courtesy,
and left the room.
"Here we have the marriage-offer," said the count,
as soqn as they were alone. A letter so frank, honest,
and full of deep feeling, as that of Moritz, could not
make any but a good impression, and its effect was all
the more favorable, that the writer's worldly wisdom
had caused him intentionally to retain the humble,
over-respectful style of the period, which his own taste
had already outgrown. Both parents read the letter
with emotion, and agreed that, as far as Moritz's person was concerned, no son-in-law could have pleased
them better. Agatha was called back to the room.
Just as she stood before them now, she had stood
only four or five days before, when they had summoned her to communicate to her the offer of Count
Nastitz, only that then the answer had been decided
beforehand, while now the acceptance or refusal was
to be left to her.
The count, with the letter in his hand, commenced,
with a smile: "My child, I am inclined to find it
quite'incommode' to be the father of a marriageable
daughter. A few days ago, I sent away one wooer,
and now another has made his appearance. What do
you think, my dear-should you like to be married?"
"Dear papa," replied Agatha, without a moment's
hesitation, "I repeat what I told you at that time, I
have not the slightest desire to be married."
" That was quite a different matter," said the countess. "Count Nastitz is a wicked, ungodly son of Anak,
with whom we never should have allowed our daughter to contract a mariage, even if she had had an in



ON TO THE GOAL.            137
clincition for him, which was of course out of the question in the case of an honorable young lady like yourself, my child. But this time it is a Christian cavalier
who solicits your hand-a young man brought up in
the fear of God, a marriage with whom will not harm
you either in body or soul."
"And besides this," added the count, "he is recommended by his king, which is by no means an indifferent matter."
"Dearest papa," replied Agatha, not without some
uneasiness at seeing her parents so much in favor of
the new wooer, "dear, gracious mamma, do not persuade me to accept this offer. I would rather remain
single for the present. I do not know why I should
Jleave you for a strange man, however excellent he may
be. I am so happy here with you, why should I marry
already? I am sure you would miss me a little."
"That we would, indeed; but we are thinking
chiefly of your happiness, my daughter, and shall find
our own in that. And you know, too, that marriage is
woman's vocation."
"But not such early marriage, gracious mamma!
Believe me, I am entirely too young and too ignorant
to be married."
"You are no longer a child."
"But I am so happy here."
Thus the matter proceeded for a while, until the
count said:
"Well, then, I shall give Baron Hohenhorst the
same answer which I gave Count Nastitz, that you
are too-"
Agatha stood speechless on hearing the wooer's




138             FIFTEEN YEARS.
name. "How! "she at length interrupted her father
in almost a whisper, "is that letter from Baron
JIohenhorst?"
The count suddenly put on a comically-shrewd
face. "Well?" he asked.
Agatha was silent.  Her cheeks burned. Her
slender frame trembled. But after a pause she said,
with a firm voice:
"Decide as you will, gracious papa, but allow me
to say this one thing, that I shall never, never in my
life, give my hand to any other man."
The count looked at the countess, and when he
saw the utterly-astonished expression with which she
gazed upon her daughter, who suddenly appeared like
another creature, he broke out into a fit of such inextinguishable laughter that it made him feel his corpulence almost as much as kneeling in prayer.  The
countess looked at him with some displeasure, but
Agatha suddenly threw her arms around his neck,
first hiding her burning face upon his shoulder, and
then began to kiss and fondle him, while she whispered: " Dearest, best papa, you know what I mean!"
Then she ran to her mother, knelt down before her,
covered her hands with kisses, and said in a caressing
tone: " Dear, darling mamma, did you not say yourself
that he was one of the best young men you had ever
seen? And did you not even once say that you loved
him like a son?"
"That is true, my child," answered the.countess,
with a smile;' but, she added, somewhat suspiciously,
" tell me who had communicated to you that Baron
Hohenhorst desired to have you for his wife?"




ON TO THE GOAL.             139
"Why, gracious mamma," replied Agatha, with
perfect ingenuousness, "he told me so himself. Oh,
pray do not be displeased, dearest mamma, it was only
the day before he left us. And he asked me,"- she
added, blushing deeply, " whether he might ask you
for my hand, and I said yes."
At this the count shook anew with laughter. It
was evident that his little victory over his wife had
put him in the best humor. The countess was too
kind and too amiable not to suffer him to enjoy it,
and submitted, smilingly, and without showing any
annoyance, to his jokes on the subject; nor could the
happiness which shone from the daughter's lovely eyes
fail to cast its reflection also on the affectionate mother.
"Dearest husband,": said the old lady, after a
pause, "let us not be over-hasty in this important
matter. As far as human wisdom can determine, this
marriage seems convenable. Captain von Hohenhorst
is a young man of Christian principles; he is of good
family; as a soldier he has won a good name and the
approbation of his king; lastly, and what is of great
weight in the scale, our daughter has, as it seems, the
confidence in him that, with the help of God, he will
make her happy. But it would leave a stain on my
conscience, and certainly also on yours, my honored
husband, if we decided an acfaire of such importance
solely according to our own judgment. For you know
that'the wisdom of this world is foolishness with
God.' We will-let the sacred Word of God itself determine what answer we are to give the young man."
The count looked at Agatha rather anxiously; but
when he saw his fair daughter quite easy, full of trust




140             FIFTEEN YEARS.
that God would decide in favor of her and her innocent love, through which she felt all the nearer to him,
he also took courage, and declared himself of the countess s opinion.
Agatha now fetched the great family Bible, which
was used chiefly for such oracles. As she laid it on
the table before her father, she could not, after all, help
trembling a little. Hardly conscious why she did so,
she chose her father rather than her mother, perhaps
because she considered him as being more decidedly
on her side, or it might be because her mother had
accustomed her to give him the preference in all outward things.
The count uttered a short, low prayer, and then,
with nervous haste, pushed his left thumb between the
leaves. He opened to Jeremiah xiii. 16:
" Give glory to the Lord your God, before He cause
darkness, and before your feet stumble upon the dark
mountains, and, while ye look for light, He turn it into
the shadow of death, and make it gross darkness."
The count looked embarrassed, and sought the
eyes of his wife, which were turned upon the ground
for some time. But when she raised them, they expressed joyful gratitude.
"Praised be the Lord!" she said to her husband
and to Agatha, who was somewhat dismayed. " Could
the Lord have given a more beautiful answer to our
humble question? Only we poor worms of the earth
must not expect that He will order every thing according to our human wisdom, for, as Paul tells us,'God hath made foolish the wisdom of this world.'
Thus we are not to take these blessed words as an




ON TO THE GOAL.            141
answer to the question whether we shall give our child
to monsieur the captain; but the Most High teaches
us by them to perceive that we chose the right way,
when we concluded to leave the decision of this question to the Holy Scriptures. Give glory to the Lord!
This we do, O Lord, we, thy faithful servant and thy
humble handmaidens. Let us, beloved in Christ, do
according to His word, and be careful to look for light
when He leads us to the dark mountains and makes
gross darkness.
"And now, my dear ones," she continued, " when
both her hearers remained devoutly silent, let us ask
the decisive question."
She seated herself at the table, opposite her husband. The Bible was placed before her. Agatha's
heart beat high. Her mother inserted her right thumb
between the leaves, while she uttered a silent prayer.
Then she opened the book, and read: "This is the
thing which the Lord doth command concerning the
daughters of Zelophehad, saying, Let them marry to
whom they think best; only to the family of the tribe
of their father shall they marry."
"The Lord hath decided," she said, with emotion.
Agatha threw herself into her arms.
"But what is that about the'family of the tribe of
their father?" asked the count, somewhat dubiously.
"That," explained the countess, "refers only to
the people of Israel, which is under the law, the bonds
of which the Saviour of the world has broken. It
may be that it is intended for the scions of a Christian
nobility, the entire race of the Christian order of nobility."




CHAPTER VII.
A THUNDER-BOLT.
IT is unnecessary to relate in detail how a messenger was sent to the camp, and Captain Baron von
Hohenhorst was respectfully requested to take the
trouble of repairing to Castle Wildeneck in person;
how the happy man hastened thither; how he obtained
the formal consent of Agatha's parents, and permission
was granted the young couple to salute each other in
their presence, and how they obeyed; how the lover
longed for the moment when he should be left alone
with his loved one, and the latter did not regret it
when that moment at last arrived-it is unnecessary
to relate all this in detail, I repeat, because each one
of us has either had similar experiences himself or
witnessed them in others, though with this difference,
that such a family picture of a hundred and twenty
years ago has to our fastidious eyes a somewhat oldfashioned, faded coloring. Yet it is remarkable that
our painters choose, for their domestic scenes from high
life, the more stately attire and the more picturesque
style of our forefathers, in preference to the tight-fitting garments of our parents, who fancied that they




A THUNDER-BOLT.             143
were thereby brought nearer to Nature, or the fashionable dress of our present day, which strives to unite
in itself the contradictions of the different periods of
the past, or even to recall their least pleasing features.
And might not the same be the case sometimes with
the soul-painter? Might he not find it more attractive
to delineate hidden emotions, half-veiled by outward
forms, to dissect psychologically the heart-features,
never brought to open consciousness of men and
women of deep feeling, indeed, but held in curb outwardly by the restraint of ceremonious decorum, than
to depict the openly-expressed passions, the unrestricted heart-revelations which are authorized in both sexes
by the greater freedom of manner and thought of the
present day!
A few days later the formal betrothal of the lovers
took place. The betrothal was, a hundred years ago,
and long after, a ceremony almost as formal and binding as that of marriage. Like the latter, it was generally performed in the presence of witnesses, only that
the festive celebration of a wedding was wanting,
which, in pietistic families, however, had lost a great
part of its original noisy character, through the banishment of music and dancing. The influence of the
war naturally made the "quiet in the land," even
though in Silesia they thanked God for their deliverance, more quiet than ever. The only witnesses invited, therefore, as the Counts of Promnitz in Sorau as
well as in Halbau were absent. from home, and the relations of the countess lived at too great a distance,
were the clergyman of the parish, and the colonel of
the regiment to which Moritz now belonged, and the




144              FIFTEEN YEARS.
ceremony was performed with all the tedious formality
which the period demanded.
The same can be said of the marriage, which took
place six weeks later, only that on this occasion all
the relations of the family, from far and near, and
even Moritz's maternal uncle, Knight-Marshal von
Kaiserling, his only near relative, were invited. At
the time of the betrothal, no one had thought of the
possibility of such a speedy marriage. But it was
hastened by circumstances.  Moritz lived in camp,
but visited the castle daily-without, however, thus
coming into a much closer relation to his beloved;
for he saw her alone but rarely, and it could not be
ignored, and, now that her eyes were opened, was
particularly obvious to the countess, that both the
young people were inwardly in great excitement.
She often shook her head, as she secretly watched her
daughter, and could not conceal from herself that this
condition could be but little conducive to a state of
quiet inner contemplation, and that her relations to
her earthly lover were in danger of infringing upon
those to her heavenly Bridegroom.
At length she herself came to the conclusion that
it would be better to hasten the wedding, and, instead
of deferring it, as was the first intention, until after
the conclusion of peace, to marry the young people
without delay, in case the king's consent would be obtained.  Moritz said the countess could then live
with them at the castle; the intimitN would restore
calm to these young hearts. The parents would thus
be able to keep their daughter quite as long as if she
still remained single. And if Moritz should be put




A THUNDER-BOLT.            145
under marching orders, and be wounded in a bataille,
Agatha, as his wedded wife, would have the better
right to go to him and nurse him.
The count agreed with his wife, and the consent
of the king was secured'by making use of the wish
he had expressed, of obliging the count in return for
"his obligeant behavior " toward him, in obtaining it.
That the lovers had no objections to make, is a matter
of course.
Moritz now  removed to the castle.  He was
obliged to be in camp at an early hour in the morning, and could only return at evening. But just these
evening hours spent alone with Agatha- for their
venerated parents always retired by half-past eight,
or still earlier-became a source of inexpressible happiness to the young couple. Agatha's mind was undeveloped. The narrow-minded education which had
deadened it had bound her with fetters which were
not to be loosed in one day, but the links of the chain
became elastic under Moritz's careful hands. As he
had taught her to love, so he now taught her to think.
She was his creature. He was indescribably happy,.
and yet not happier than she.
Moritz, by the legal marriage-contract, had made
his wife joint possessor of his whole property, which
was, however, quite small; in return, the count had
agreed to bestow on his daughter, besides an ample
dowry, an annuity of fifteen hundred thalers, which
annuity was to be raised as the family increased.
Moritz's little capital, together with his pay as capfain, gave him an income of about the same sum.
With three thousand thalers a year, our young
7




146             FIFTEEN YEARS.
couple could, in the middle of the last century, live
quite conformably to their station in Berlin, where
Moritz's regiment was in garrison.
He often looked forward joyfully to spending the
winters there with his young wife, far from the tumult of the fashionable world, in social intercourse
with but a small circle of cultivated people, such as
at that time were' particularly to be found among the
descendants of the Huguenot immigrants, in whom
French and German blood were already beginning to
mingle.  The summers, according to the marriagecontract, Agatha was to spend regularly with her
parents, until her family should have grown too large.
And to this, too, Moritz looked' forward without annoyance; for the venerable couple had become very
dear to him, even though he was frequently obliged
to suppress a yawn in his conversations with his father-in-law, and the countess's long speeches often
made him wish that the good old lady, well versed in
the Bible as she was, might remember the proverb of
Solomon: "He that hath knowledge, spareth his
words."
Public events, too, had during this time taken a
course which seemed especially ordered by a kind
Providence for increasing the happiness of the young
couple. The petty war by which the conqueror
maintained his position in Silesia during the summer
and autumn, did not call for the services of the troops
stationed in the county of Glogau, as no enemy
showed himself there. Moritz had too much confidence in the warlike spirit of his king, not to cherish
the hope that he would still have occasion, at some




A THUNDER-BOLT.            147
future day, to win new laurels, and enjoyed his peaceful happiness with a full heart. After the battle of
Mollwitz, France and England had sent ambassadors
to Frederick's camp, and the British minister, Lord
Hyndford, was making efforts to bring about a compromise, and induce the young queen, whose pride had
been most deeply injured, to make the necessary sacrifices.  After the mysterious interview at GrossSchnellendorf, therefore, peace seemed near, and the
family at Wildeneck thought themselves entitled to
cherish the fairest hopes.
But the truth which every thinking person has experienced again and again in his own life and that of
those around him, that " the Lord's thoughts are not
as our thoughts, and his ways not our ways," was
soon to be brought home, in overwhelming force, to
this happy group.
It was on a lovely morning in the latter half of October-the lovers had been married somewhat over
two months-that Moritz was making himself ready,
as usual, to go to the camp. The last moments were
generally devoted to a final farewell in the private
room of the young couple. Their caresses, which no
curious eye was to witness, might have sufficed for a
whole month. Then Agatha would hang upon her
-husband's arm, and accompany him down the stairs,
and through the castle garden to the outer gate. One
more hurried kiss, a renewed clasp of the hand, and
he would hasten down the hill. She would remain in
the gate as long as she could see him, and then saunter slowly back between the green walls of yew, to
her flower-beds, or her other occupations. Her in



148             FIFTEEN YEARS.
struction in the school had been given up since her
marriage, and her place supplied by a hired teacher.
On the morning in question, Agatha was in a peculiarly tender and loving mood. She clung to her husband's neck. It seemed as if there was something-on
her mind. As a certain awe of his mental superiority
was still wont at times to deprive her of her natural ease
in his presence, he took but little notice of her manner,
and only redoubled his caresses. She was silent, as
she walked through the garden leaning on his arm.
"I will tell him this evening," she thought. She had
a blissful secret to disclose to him, which her mother
had already drawn from her by questions. "I will
tell him to-night, when I am sitting on his knee,
which the dear man calls my throne!' The thought
filled.her with deep happiness. But that evening
never came. The unhappy young wife was not to see
her husband again!
What a terrible thunder-bolt fell upon the family
at Wildeneck from an apparently clear, cloudless sky,
we have already learned from Moritz's letter. About
noon, when dinner had just been announced, Kerkow
entered the dining-room with a pale face, and dismayed countenance, and requested monsieur the count
to take the trouble to come out into the hall. A messenger had come in breathless haste from the village
to the castle with the news, which spread like wildfire, and grew with each repetition, that "Captain von
Hohenhorst had killed Major von Nastitz, and was in
prison." The count, much alarmed, managed to find
out, from other villagers who came up, bringing intelligence which was in fact the same, and yet different,




A THUNDER-BOLT.             149
that the case, though bad, was not as bad as was at
first represented. But one thing was certain: blood
had been shed, and his son-in-law was arrested. He
ordered the carriage to be got ready, and returned to
the ladies. He intended to ask them, in an indifferent
tone, to eat their dinner quietly without him; that
business called him to the camp. But he was little accustomed to dissemble, and his wife and daughter
could easily see that something uncommon had happened.
A few urgent questions, and all was told.  The
count went to the camp, saw Moritz's friends and adversaries, also the chief officer in command; but he
was not allowed an interview with Moritz himself.
From sundry, varying representations, he could about
judge of the true state of the case. The major had
received a sword-thrust in the left shoulder, and the
terrible rage in which he was, threatened to increase
the danger of the wound. He raved and swore, and
would hardly suffer the bandage to remain in its place
even, as the younger officers declared, who, without
exception, sided with Moritz, in order to aggravate
the prisoner's fault by its serious consequences. Many
knew that the major had formerly paid his addresses
to the young countess, and that he had revenged himself on his more fortunate rival for this and other preferences which had been shown him, by secretly annoying him in every possible way. Nor were his
violent, malignant disposition and his coarse brutality
unknown to the younger officers or those of the staff.
No wonder, therefore, that the count found the general opinion very much in favor of Moritz, notwith



150              FIFTEEN YEARS.
standing that all were deeply concerned about the
inevitable consequences of his rash act.
"An affair of honor," said the count to himself,
when he was again seated in the carriage, " ought to
have been arranged differently. But if the scoundrel,
as his comrades testify, refused him satisfaction out
of sheer malice, what was left to the poor fellow, as a
cavalier, but to strike the coward in the face?" It
seemed to the old gentleman, indeed, that his lady
would look at the matter in a very different light, and
that cavalier laws were directly opposed to those of
the Saviour. But, like many other pious cavaliers,
he had long since ceased to trouble his mind about
this incongruity, and, in spite of a depressing consciousness of the sinfulness of the whole human race,
had always upheld the bloodiest laws of honor existing among the nobility.
He reached home much discouraged, and found
mother and daughter in deep grief, the latter full of
an overpowering anxiety, the former in a state of composure which indicated a complete resignation to the
will of God.
"Oh! she cried, " how truly doth the preacher
say:' Be not hasty in thy spirit to be -angry, for anger resteth in the bosom of fools.' But far be it from
me to cast a stone upon our poor son. We all, we all
have sinned! We were too happy in carnal happiness, and forgot the Lord in vain schemes and earthly
hopes. He is a jealous God! Oh, my dear ones, let
us entreat our precious Mediator to teach us how to
appease the wrath of the Lord! Let us pray "
But she was ready not merely to pray. The count




A THUNDER-BOLT.            151
had heard that Moritz was to be sent to the fortress
the next morning at an early hour, there to await
the sentence of the court-martial. She promised her
daughter to go with her in the carriage to the turnpike on the morrow, there to wait for his passing, so
that they might at any rate see him once more, and
say a few words of loving comfort to the unhappy
man, in case that they should be refused admittance
to the fortress before his sentence had been pronounced.
Agatha did not in the least imagine that that sentence would be any thing beyond confinement in a
fortress, and in her inmost heart still hoped for the
king's pardon. Her parents, however, knew but too
well that the penalty of Moritz's offence was death;
but they had not the courage to tell their daughter of
it. They, too, found great consolation in the hope of
the royal clemency.
Thus the day and night passed in weeping and
praying, hoping and fearing, till the early morning
brought them a new agitating intelligence. The beloved criminal had fled! The count broke out into
a fit of violent anger, and his wife could hardly pacify
him by gentle words, sensible remonstrances, and a
flood of Bible-verses, by which she finally quenched
the flame which was constantly blazing up again.
For the countess saw this step in a different light,
and while Agatha thanked the Saviour on her knees,
and entreated Him to take the beloved fugitive under
His omnipotent protection, she collected countless examples, pleasing in the sight of God, for the justification of her son-in-law.




152              FIFTEEN YEARS.
"Did not David, too, flee from his persecutor?
And Moses from the wrath of Pharaoh, when he had
slain the Egyptian? And you will remember, my
love, that an angel of the Lord Himself opened the
prison-doors for the apostles. But I am well aware
that the Lord no longer vouchsafes miracles to the
sinful race of man. But, if St. Paul was permitted to
escape from the Jews by being let down by the wall
in a basket, why should not our son-in-law, who only
raised his sword in self-defence, have escaped in a
similar manner? Only that, en efet, his flight truly
seems like a miracle of God, because no human wisdom can discover by what means it was accomplished.
Neither door nor window has been opened! If we
could venture to believe in a direct divine agency in
this case, we might hope that he had been chosen to
be, at some future day, a peculiar instrument of the
Lord!"
The count suffered himself to be quieted, and in
the end thanked God as fervently as any one that the
poor boy was safe, when the court-martial. pronounced
its terrible sentence, and condemned the unfortunate
young man, who had lifted his hand and sword against
his superior, not to confinement in a fortress, but to
death. The' officers of Moritz's regiment had resolved,
immediately after the deed, to send to the king, sirnultaneously with the sentence of the offender, an urgent
petition for clemency. But his flight, which created
great consternation in the camp, made this step unadvisable;.the more so, since its originators themselves
had every ieason to look forward to severe censure.
Blow upon blow fell upon the deeply-afflicted fam



A THUNDER-BOLT.             153
ily of Wildeneck. The king was in the highest degree incensed at such an offence at a time when, in
his opinion, all private passions ought to be submerged
in his own far more important business. Doubly irritated by the circumstance that he had, but a short time
before, overwhelmed the criminal with favors and
most exceptional privileges, he added to the sentence
-of death, "because the'offender had withdrawn from
it by ignominious flight," that of being previously
cashiered and deprived of his title; and neither the intercession of Moritz's princely patron, Leopold of
Dessau, nor the humble petitions of all the branches
of the house of Promnitz, could induce him to revoke
his harsh degree.
In Count Promnitz, Moritz's deprivation of his
title particularly awakened a certain bitterness toward
the Prussian rule. His:pride, as count of the empire,
was roused anew. He, like Moritz, refused to acknowledge the king's right to such a step, to which, at the
most, the emperor alone was entitled. The countess
thought as he did, otherwise each aggravation of Moritz's misfortune only increased her loving pity for
him, and, if possible, her tenderness for her'daughter.
Agatha herself was stunned, as it were. She could
hardly feel deeper grief for any thing that might befall her husband than she had experienced through her
separation from him. "If I could only hear from
him!" she- sighed. "If I'only knew that he was
safe'!"  The letter fiom'Kalisch had never reached
her; and the persons who aided the young officer's escape had thought best, from fear of discovery, to preserve an inviolable silence.




154             FIFTEEN YEARS.
Major von Nastitz reaped no benefit from the severe punishment of the opponent whom he had so maliciously incited to, anger.  After he had recovered
from his wound, which was not for some time, as his
blood was bad, and his passionate temper made all
wounds doubly dangerous for him, his comrades plainly manifested a spirit of hostility and contempt toward him. The more moderate among them avoided
him; all treated him in a cold and repellent manner;
some even went so far as to declare their unwillingness to serve with him any longer, on account of the
dishonoring blow in the face which he had received.
As, by the arbitrary and contradictory code of cavalier honor, he could not wash off the stain -even. by a
few duels, he was at length forced to resign; and there
was not one among the officers who was not glad to
see him leave, as his coarse and intemperate habits
threatened' to give the regiment a bad reputation.
For the soldiers particularly his withdrawal was an
occasion of great rejoicing. He departed, boiling with
rage, and swearing to take vengeance on the quiet
family at Wildeneck. Shortly after, it was said that
he had entered the Austrian service, and incorporated
with a regiment stationed in Croatia.
I have, however, anticipated events in mentioning
the withdrawal of the major from the Prussian army,
which did not take place till some time later. For
Agatha the unhappy man, ever since his quarrel with
her husband, was an object of horror. It so happened
that she met him one day, about two months after Moritz's flight, while riding with her mother. The tall,
athletic figure suddenly appeared close to the carriage



A THUNDER-BOLT.             155
door, its coarse, angry face blanched by illness, and its
wild eyes turned wrathfully upon her. After that she
often saw him in her dreams, and would start from her
sleep with a cry of terror, and exclaim: "Moritz, my
Moritz, save me!"  Time alone could gradually soften the impression.
Seven weeks,after her separation from her beloved
husband, she received the letter, the joy caused by
which I have already described.




CHAPTER VIIL
AGATHA'S JOURNEY.
THIS letter had gratefully cleared the heavy atmosphere which had hung over Castle Wildeneck since
that unhappy October morning. True, every thing
had gone on there in the old course, and outwardly the
prolonged family devotions, and the quiet, speechless
melancholy of the young wife, were almost the only
indications that all her earthly happiness was destroyed. The countess, in her fervent piety, was so
firmly convinced that all afflictions which God sends
to Christians in this world are compensated for to
them in the next, and that the breaking of every
earthly tie draws closer that which binds us to heaven,
that she was in reality never happier than in misfortune. The count, indeed, though no weaker in faith,
was yet less logical in feeling. He was displeased at
Moritz's unfortunate indiscretion; the tears often came
into his eyes when he looked at Agatha's pale cheeks,
and his daily life, which she alone had brightened for
the old man, weighed upon him in gloomy heaviness.
The letter had an excellent effect on him. It reconciled him completely to Moritz's flight. He would sit




AGATHA'S JOURNEY.           157
for hours turning over the leaves of the Bible, to find
examples by which to prove to his wife that the Lord
would always take the part of the righteous, which she
by no means denied, only that she understood it differently. He observed, not without concern, that the
good lady, now that she knew the fugitive to be once
more on the road to fortune, was inclined to judge his
offence more harshly. She referred repeatedly to such
passages in Proverbs as condemn anger, and still more
distinctly to the Epistle to the Ephesians, the fourth
chapter of which she knew by rote. But she could
not have had the heart of a mother, if she had not
rejoiced in the hopeful smiles of her divinely-favored
daughter, whose lovely eyes she had not for weeks
seen otherwise than swollen with weeping.
Ay, wholly unselfish as she was, she even was the
first to give room to the idea that man and wife should
live apart only so long as it could not possibly be
avoided. She, therefore, proposed that, as soon as
Agatha should have been safely delivered, with the
aid of the gentle Saviour; and the Swedish war, with
the Lord's help, was victoriously ended, the count, in
case his somewhat impaired health admitted of it,
should take his daughter to St. Petersburg to rejoin
her husband. Agatha's heart beat higher, and her
eyes sparkled, when her good mother communicated
to her plans like this.
But, alas! this hopeful dream was not to last long;
they were soon to be awakened from it in a terrible
manner.
The courier who brought Moritz's letter to Agatha
had travelled quickly.  The progress of the com



158             FIFTEEN YEARS.
mon mail at that, time, as I have already remarked,
was much slower, particularly to places which were
not situated on the great postal route. More than a
fortnight passed, therefore, before the intelligence of
the new revolution in Russia penetrated to Silesia.
The blow was fearful. When it first fell, it was
accompanied by thunder and lightning, that is, with
fabulous rumors of murder and carnage. Soon, however, the intelligence that the new empress had sworn
a solemn oath to shed no human blood by executions
during her reign, spread a soothing balm on the
wounds inflicted. Elizabeth used the traditional mildness of her sex as a means of ingratiating herself
with the people. There is a touch of voluptuousness
in a transient sensual feeling of pity. She sent word
to the imprisoned empress-regent "that she might
console herself; she should have every comfort-to
the throne alone she had no claim." At first, too, she
suffered the grand-ducal family to entertain the hope
of a mere exile in Germany. Ere long, however, in
vacillating fear and fickle despotism, she deemed it
safer to cause her prisoners, who had already started
on their journey, to be arrested in Riga, and assign
them a residence in the citadel of that city.
But the history of this empress offers a warning
example of the fearful morally-corrupting influence
exercised by the consciousness of arbitrary power.
Although in her youth, while entirely dependent on
others, she had committed noglaring offence; though
she had even manifested a certain tearful susceptibility,
and a nervous dread of putting to death, as the last,
irrevocable step, yet the first opportunity of practising




AGATHA'S JOURNEY.            159
the evil with impunity awakened in her an irresistible
desire to do so; the power of exercising cruelties
without the fear of seeing them avenged aroused the
inclination for them, just as, in young beasts of prey,
the unconquerable appetite for blood is only called
forth by seeing it flow. True, she mitigated the barbarous death-sentences, which the court of the triumphant old-Russian party passed on the detested foreign
intruders, to a banishment for life "into misery;" but
so hardened was her heart by her two months' enjoyment of an unlimited power, that she had caused all
those who had been so ignominiously pardoned to be
led to the place of execution. Even the aged, suffering Ostermann, who had served the empire for thirty
years, was forced to mount the scaffold, and lay his
trembling head upon the block, before the officer of
justice was allowed to inform him that " God and the
empress granted him his life."
When the intelligence spread over Europe that
Minnich, Ostermann, and Lowenwolde, were henceforth to pine away their lives in the wilderness, the
reign of this empress was condemned by the bon mot:
" that she had at one stroke banished, with Ostermann,
wisdom; with Miinnich, bravery; and with Lowenwolde, refinement of manners from her empire."
Toward her unfortunate relatives, too, she showed
herself more irritated and cruel, the more she realized
that it only depended upon her to crush them entirely,
and the more certain she became that the heartless
selfishness of her princely cousins in Germany had
caused them to give up all thought of interfering in
favor of the unhappy family. She had them dragged




160              FIFTEEN YEARS.
from prison to prison, each of which degraded them a
step further, until at length she deemed a half-desert
island in the Dwina, surrounded for nine months of
the year by batteries of blocks of ice, sufficiently joyless and isolated. Here Luna, of Mecklenburg, died
five years later, in gloomy resignation to her fate.
The degenerate scion of the race of Guelphs, Anton
Ulrich, lived on for thirty years more, to perish at last
in almost brute stupidity. The unfortunate imperial
prince, over whom she at first shed a few sentimental
tears, and whom, during the first years of her reign,
she had not the heart to deprive of parental care, she
subsequently caused systematically to grow up, in
darkness and' prison-atmosphere, to complete idiocy.
Of the diabolical cruelty with which she revenged
herself for every act or word which. envy, jealousy,
and injured vanity, led her to construe into personal
insult, history gives testimony of the most horrible
kind.
It was only in single, indistinct features; only in
scattered, timid newspaper items; in rare, uncertain
reports of returning travellers, whose echo often ar~rived in the provinces from the capital in an incoherent and hardly comprehensible form, that the news of
these terrible events finally reached Silesia. Only the
principal names were mentioned, and even they with
countless contradictions; if any of the less important
were named, it was merely to connect them with the
most fearful, or at any rate the most incredible rumors.
What had become of Moritz? Would he not have
written if he had been so fortunate as to escape? Had
he, like the others, transferred his services to the new




AGATHA'S JOURNEY.            161
empress? And, if so, might he not later, when, in
the absence of Elizabeth, the rage of the Russian
party against the Germans came to such a fearful outbreak, have fallen a prey to the wild fury of the praetorian guards?  Month after month passed away,
without bringing any intelligence of him. In what
prison might he be languishing? Was he still among
the living?
In this emergency it became quite evident that the
worthy Countess Promnitz could do something besides praying. She was indefatigable in writing letters herself, and inducing her husband to do the same,
as far as his increasing infirmities would permit. All
the influence of their respective families, the Reuss
and the Promnitz, was brought into play for making
inquiries at St. Petersburg, while, at their instigation,
similar steps would have been taken from Brunswick,
through Moritz's uncle, if the death of the latter had
not interfered. The Prussian, the Austrian, and the
Polish-Saxon ambassadors, were appealed to.  But
with regard to Prussia the matter was difficult. Winterfeld had been recalled. The new minister was not
personally acquainted with Moritz, and declined having any thing to do with the fugitive cashiered officer.
The Austrian and Saxon ministers promised to do
their-best, and did make some inquiries, but no one
could be found who had known the newly-arrived
stranger. No one could tell any thing about Moritz;
nothing was to be learned of him.
The chief reason was, that the inquiries were made
too cautiously, too timidly. It was known that Elizabeth was much incensed against Marquis Botta and




162             FIFTEEN YEAES.
Count Lynar, both of whom had sided with Anna.
Both, indeed, had long since been recalled, and other
ministers filled their posts, but the empress was still
inwardly convinced that the former had acted in, the
name of their governments, and therefore entertained
the same mistrust against the new representatives of
Austria and Saxony. Under this empiess the intrusive, arrogant influence of Russia on German affairs
almost reached its height, and unfortunately the base
cringing of the German governments to Russia was
also already beginning to show itself. The barbarity
of the Russian government was only timidly touched
upon by the German papers, and the crimes of its despotism were carefully veiled. The ambassadors had
to act in the most cautious manner, in order, as their
masters did not venture to manifest any sympathy for
the dethroned family, not to give any offence by showing any interest in its adherents.
The only hope, therefore, of learning any thing of
Moritz, rested with Prince Ludwig of Brunswick, the
brother of the regent, of whom it was known that he
would leave Russia as soon as he could disentangle
himself, without irritating the empress, from the snares
laid for him. As soon as his arrival in Berlin could
be ascertained, the matter was laid before him with
the greatest urgency. Oh! it was a sad day at Castle Wildeneck, when the letter from his secretary arrived, in which the prince expressed his most fervent
regret at not being able to give the young widow any
consoling intelligence with regard to her missing husband, whose name he had not heard mentioned since
that unfortunate night in December. After this the




AGATHA'S JOURNEY.            163
days of the Promnitz family were darker than ever.
Only that the light of their faith in the wise providence of God shone brighter and brighter, as the
small, dim flames of their hopes in man's help died
away one by one.
More than seven months of heavy conflict had
crept along in melancholy uniformity since Moritz's
flight, when in the spring Agatha gave birth to a
healthy girl. The grandparents had hoped that the
child would be a comfort to the young mother. But
it seemed as if her dejection increased from day to
day. She saw only the fatherless orphan in her little
daughter, even though she loved her just on that account with double tenderness. She had insisted on
nursing the child herself, a practice unheard of at that
time among the high nobility. But she heard Moritz
say that it was the first duty of a mother, and that a'hired wet-nurse was a thing contrary to Nature. For
the period had commenced when Nature, which had
been banished from the family-life of the higher circles,
was to be reinstated in her rights. Every reminiscence of Moritz was sacred to the young wife; each
word that he had spoken, a law for her.
At the suggestion of the countess, the child received in baptism the beautiful names of Fides Caritas Speranza. The grandmother called her Fides,
her mother and grandfather Speranza, which in French,
and adopted from it in German, sounded very well as
Esperance. But the countess, in course of time, became somewhat concerned lest the child was getting
to be too much the object of their worldly hopes. It
was therefore agreed to call her Caritas, and as Cari



164             FIFTEEN YEARS.
tas she will henceforth be presented to the indulgent
reader.
The war, which, during the winter, had been conducted rather indolently, had meanwhile been carried more toward Bohemia and Moravia, and, on
breaking out again more vigorously in the spring, was
soon after decided in favor of Frederick by the victory of Czaslau. In June peace was concluded, and
Silesia, with the exception of a small portion, became
a Prussian province.
Agatha heard this intelligence, so welcome to all
those who shared her religious belief, with perfect indifference. The Prussian army was of importance to
her only as long as Moritz belonged to it;- the king,
who had been so harsh toward him, had become to
her the object of a quiet inward hatred, which the
mother observed, in her pious, gentle child, with some
uneasiness. Altogether she could perceive how happiness and sorrow had, as it were, educated her daughter, and developed her character to a degree of self->
dependence unusual in so young a person. She remained the same affectionate, dutiful daughter that
she had been since her childhood. But her views took
a different individual direction. The seed which her
brief, intimate companionship with Moritz had sown
within her, grew up independently to a peculiar plant,
which already in its first germs was forced to draw
from its own natural sap the strength to resist the
storms of life, and was to develop still more fully in
the heavy trials of Agatha's riper years.
The autumn had come, and Caritas, a healthy,
blooming, sunny-tempered child, was just six months




AGATHA'S JOURNEY.            165
old, when Agatha surprised her mother one day by the
question whether she thought that a healthy child
might, at the age of half a year, be without injury
transferred to another nurse, or safely weaned entirely.
The countess wished to know what had given rise
to this question, upon which her daughter confided to
her that she had long been revolving in her mind the
plan of going to Russia herself in search of her husband, and had now fully determined to do so. She
would leave no means untried of hearing about Moritz,
whether he were still alive, or had preceded her to
heaven. She was resolved to throw herself at the feet
of the empress, and to wring from her some certainty
as to her husband's fate, and, if that were still in mortal hands, clemency for him. She had wished to do
this immediately after her confinement, but the memory of Moritz had pointed to the duty she owed her
child as the chief of all her earthly duties. But now
winter was at hand, and she must not let it pass by
without acting. From inquiries which she had made,
she had learned that the roads in the interior of Russia
were so bad that they could be travelled over only
very slowly and with great difficulty in summer; while
in winter they were covered with deep snow, over
which light sleighs could glide along swiftly. Who
could tell but what she might be forced to seek for her
beloved husband in the wilds of Siberia? The forests
of Poland, too, were difficult to traverse in summer on
account of the boggy roads; it was, therefore, absolutely necessary that she should go soon, should go
now. The question now was whether it would be safer
to give Caritas a wet-nurse-she had carefully kept her




166             FIFTEEN YEARS.
eye on the young peasant-woman whom her mother
had formerly intended for the same office, and whose
child was of the same age as Caritas-or whether the
child, healthy as she was, was not ripe for other food,
and whether she might venture to lay so great a care
upon her dear, venerated mother.
The countess was in the hightest degree astonished
when her daughter, with quiet composure, laid before
her this bold plan, perfectly matured. She had been
too long accustomed to think and act for the whole
household, not to feel a little hurt at first at seeing her
daughter, whom, but a year ago, she had looked upon
as a mere child, so suddenly mentally emancipated.
This was, indeed, but human; but the countess had
too noble a nature to give way to this feeling for more
than a moment. After a few minutes of quiet thought,
she approved of Agatha's plan, and sought, by means
of her favorite "thumbing," to find an authorization
thereof in the Word of God, in which, as can well be
imagined, she met with complete success.
It was more difficult to obtain the consent of the
count; it was only through the shrewdness of his wife,
who knew exactly how to manage him, that he was at
last induced to sanction the plan. Agatha avoided
speaking of it to her father, for he was more tenderhearted than her mother, and the mere thought of his
daughter's exposing herself to the dangers of such a
journey, and of his not being able to see her besides
for more than a year, excited him. Unfortunately, the
state of his health made it impossible for him to accompany her. The gout, to which he had been subject
for a season already in his youth, had reappeared with




AGATHA'S JOURNEY.            167
redoubled violence in his old age, and had settled in
his feet. He suffered severe pain, and could only walk
with the aid of a cane. A winter's journey was therefore out of the question for him.
The countess, ever kind and. self-sacrificing, undertook, in addition to the care of her husband, that of
little Caritas, whom, as she said, she hoped to bring
up with the Saviour's help, i. e., with the help of an
efficient nurse-maid hired in the name of Christ, without needing the services of a wet-nurse.  She saw
plainly how anxious the poor young wife felt with regard to her child and her infirm father, and in this
case, too, it was her cheerful trust in God which sustained all around her.
A journey, indeed, was quite a different undertaking a hundred and twenty years ago from what it is
in our day, particularly on the part of a lady hardly
nineteen, who had never yet spent a night under a
roof which did not also shelter her mother; and a journey to Russia above all! Even far into our present
century the name of Russia was associated with the
idea of something monstrous, outlandish, barbaric. In
the time of the daughter of Peter the Great it was still
wrapped for Germany in a dense obscurity, through
which there only resounded distinctly the fearful echo
of the acts of beastly grossness and brutality which
the great czar, her father, had perpetrated while travelling in the country about twenty years before. The
latest events, of which, as we know, only a few isolated
features penetrated to the neighboring countries, had
stained with fresh blood-spots the dark veil which concealed the Russian colossus. Unknown Russia, as it




168             FIFTEEN YEARS.
lay spread out upon the map in such enormous extent,
and so void and desolate, seemed more awful even than
Turkey, just because so much less was known of it
than of the latter. About Turkey, people might talk
and the papers might.print whatever they pleased;
while, of Russia, nothing could be reported in the latter but what the cowardly caution of the better-informed cabinets permitted.
Agatha shared all the ignorance and all the exaggerated ideas of her time on this subject; but the
dread which she felt did not shake her resolution for
one moment; nor did she journey like Madame Cottin's famous heroine, Elizabeth, on foot and supported
only by her touching beauty. She travelled as became her station, with maid and valet, and in her own
carriage, which was supplied with post-horses wherever
there were post-routes, and with horses hired from
Jewish wagoners where there were none. Kerkow,
the faithful old servant, who had repeatedly visited
the neighboring kingdom of Poland, and was familiar
with its language, and knew just enough Russian to
make his way in Russia, took care of every thing.
Agatha was supplied with a huge pocket-book full of
letters of introduction to countless ambassadors and
magnates of the empire, and, what was still more important, with a large purse full of bright gold-pieces,
and an unlimited letter of credit for drawing as much
money as she would need for the accomplishment of
her purpose; for the piety of her parents by no
means excluded a shrewd knowledge of the world, and
their generosity made them ready for any sacrifice for
their child's happiness. Agatha, therefore, reached St.




AGATHA~S JOURNEY.            169
Petersburg without any important difficulties, entitled,
according to human conclusions, to every hope of success, and her young heart filled with the fairest.
It was only after she had reached her destination,
the Russian imperial- city, that. her hardest trials began. Like a wanderer,.who with patient courage has
ascended a long, rough- mountain-path, in the certainhope of finding at the top the right road which willlead him on, the spot from which he can overlook the
heights and depressions which he has still to pass before reaching his destination, and who, the day having
passed with his arduous:climbing, is suddenly surprised by the gray evening, so that on reaching the
height he can only see that an abyss lies before him,
and below him a trackless morass, while all around
him is the impenetrable forest, and who all at once is
seized with the horrible fear awakened. by nocturnal solitude, and with the confusing influence of darkness, and knows no longer from which direction he has
dome, and which he must take to find the right way —
so poor Agatha felt, when suddenly the abyss of the
great new world yawned before her, and she was confused by the barbaric darkness of coarse passions and
brutal desires, the expression of which she hardly understood; and the slough of moral corruption which
surrounded her filled her pure spirit with disgust.
In St. Petersburg, as in Germany, Moritz's'existence
was shrouded in impenetrable darkness. No one knew
any thing about him, no one had ever heard his name.
He had been in the country only a few weeks; without:,iacquaintances, without connections; hardly one
of the diplomatic employes had known his name.
8




170             FIFTEEN YEARS.
The most natural inference was, that he was to be
sought for in the suite of Duke Anton Ulrich. But
just this fact made the matter more difficult. A thick
veil was cast over the residence of the unfortunate regents; the plans for their fate were evidently not ripe
in the heads of the czarina and her ministers. An
attempt to lift the veil seemed hazardous; any act of
interference might check the possible emotions of pity
of the offended autocrat. Agatha had but one fervent
wish, to obtain an audience of Elizabeth herself. " She
is a woman," she thought. "She must have a heart.
I will prostrate myself in the dust before her, I will
embrace her knees, I will cling to her until she restores my husband to'me! "
But none of her letters to ambassadors and ministers brought the poor young petitioner a step nearer
to her end, and, as far as the former were concerned,
for the same reasons which had made all written inquiries of no avail. To the Prussian ambassador she
could not venture to apply. The rest put her off with
promises; she was turned away with polite excuses,
with shallow evasions, and finally not admitted any
more.
Painfully though she felt such treatment, what was
it to that which our poor young heroine experienced
among the high officials attached to the court? Elizabeth had been raised to the throne by a few rude men,
from the dregs of the people, and had rewarded them
for it by several of the highest dignities of the empire.
But, even aside from this, the barbaric crudeness of
the Russian nobility, to which some others among
Elizabeth's ministers belonged, had not yet been var



AGATHA S JOURNEY.            171
nished over with that superficial French culture which
at a later period gave rise to the cruel witticism that
designated the magnates-of this still half-Asiatic country as " monkeys grafted on tigers." All her gold did
not suffice to satisfy the wild desires of the monsters
with whom her object brought her in contact; shuddering, full of abhorrence, the deeply-insulted woman
at length retired into profound obscurity, which Kerkow had procured for her in the family of a worthy
German tradesman, who had come to the country under
the Empress Anna, and had been known to him in
former years.
To Kerkow, too, the good, trusty servant, she owed
it that at last, after more than two months of vain
waiting and struggling, a small back-door, as it were,
was opened to her, by which to gain admittance to the
empress. With the gold of which his young mistress
gave him full control, he had found means of winning
over a waiting-woman in the service of the empress, and
consequently Agatha found herself, one morning, full
of hope, however anxious and trembling, posted in a
dressing-room of the czarina just as the latter issued
from her bedchamber, in the happiest mood, still all
aglow with the after-feeling of a night of pleasure, a
rich mantle of satin, lined with fur, thrown over her
thin night-dress.
Agatha's tall, slender figure, clad in sable mourning garments, stood close by the door, her cheeks
deathly pale, her eyes swollen with weeping.  She
sunk upon her knees and seized- the dress of the czarina with trembling hand. Her voice failed her.
"Who is this?" asked the empress, somewhat




172              FIFTEEN YEARS.
startled, and the waiting-woman uttered a few hurried
words in Russian, of which Agatha comprehended
only the pleading tone.
But it needed only a moment to restore the courage
of the latter. The expression of Elizabeth's face was
a kind one. Had Agatha been blooming, like her,
radiant with beauty and health, her envy might have
been roused,-for she hated all who outshone her, and
history has recorded with what fearful cruelty she was
wont to avenge her offended charms; but the very
fact that the beauty of the poor young creature'prostrate before her was so entirely different from her own,
touched her heart and called forth her sympathy for
her misfortune.
" What ails thee, my poor child? " she asked, kindly;."'what can I do for thee? Let me'see!"
She spoke German, with which she was perfectly
familiar. She took the petition from Agatha's hand,
but the latter instinctively recognized her momentary
advantage too well to intrust her cause to written
words.  She had, indeed, drawn up. her petition as
concisely as possible, and had very-wisely, without infrninging on the truth, mentioned only such points as
could in no way give offence; that Moritz had come
to Russia to take part in the war against Sweden; that
the circumstance of his being a native of Brunswick had
brought him into the personal service of Duke.Anton;
that -a mere accident had caused his being on guard.in the antechamber of the latter, and his being arrested.on the night of the revolution; but that, since that
occasion, he had disappeared entirely. She was conscious, however, as the czarina looked at her compas



AGATHA'S JOURNEY.            173
sionately, of being able to plead her cause far more
eloquently in person. She mentioned, in addition to
the above, that she had only been married two months;
that an innocent, fatherless child joined in her petition,
and the tears which she could hardly restrain gave
an irresistible eloquence to her words.
"Thou shalt have him back again, poor child," said
the empress, full of pity. " Only two months? Thou
shalt have him back again, even if he should be more
guilty than thou thinkest. I will speak to Tsherkaskoi. Thou mayst go home with a quiet mind."
But a terrible fear came over Agatha, when she
heard the chancellor's name. She clung firmly to the
knees of the empress with such urgent entreaties, that
the latter finally, half-laughing, half-impatient, gave
orders to send for the chancellor on the spot, and directed the waiting-woman to take "the poor yroung
thing " to her room, and there let her await the result.
We will not weary our readers with a description
of Agatha's state of mind.. The evening had already
closed in, when the kind-hearted waiting-woman, who
overwhelmed her with praises and congratulations,
the import of which Agatha could guess but partially,
conducted her once more to the empress.
The latter called out to her in a kind voice, as she
entered the room: " Thy husband is in Berezov, in the
government of Tobolsk, in Siberia. He is well. God
mknows I am sorry enough that so many innocent persons must suffer when the guilty are punished. Here,"
she continued, showing her a paper," here is his pardon, and to-morrow it shall be sent by a chasseur to
the governor of Tobolsk."




174             FIFTEEN YEARS.
But Agatha's fervent entreaties were once more
victorious. "Let me, let me, most gracious majesty,
be the bearer of your clemency," she cried, covering
the hand of the empress with kisses. "Oh grant me
still this one favor! Oh, suffer me to thank your majesty for this also! Let me call down the blessings of
Heaven upon your head for this grace too!"
"What! " cried the empress; " thou knowest not
what thou askest. Russia is not Italy. Thy delicate
body is not fit to bear our climate. Do thou quietly
await his arrival here. Thou mayst be sure of it. He
can be here in four weeks."
Nevertheless, she was pleased with Agatha's perseverance, and struck by the romance of her plan. She
at length delivered the document into her hands.
"May God give His blessing on thy journey, then! " she
said, not without emotion. "The chasseuzr shall go as
thy escort. Every thing shall be done to facilitate
thy foolish undertaking. I will give strict orders to
that effect."
And Elizabeth kept her word. On the following
evening, Agatha, wrapped in furs and feather beds,
was seated in a closely-covered sleigh; old Kerkow,
equally well protected, beside her, only because his
mistress insisted.on his taking this place; the chasseur,
who was to see that all was done on the way to facilitate her journey through a desolate, snow-covered
land, in the uncovered forward part of the kibitka;
her maid Agatha prudently left behind, supplied with
every means of returning to Germany, or, if she preferred it, seeking a new situation in St. Petersburg.
On the morning before Agatha's departure, the chan



AGATHA'S JOUeNEY.            175
cellor had sent one of his secretaries to her, for the favor
of the empress had suddenly changed the whole coloring
of his relation to the beautiful petitioner, who was commissioned to make all necessary arrangements for her.
Among other things, he had given her a paper which,
with her ignorance of the Russian language, would be
of great use to her. It was a command, in the name of
the empress, to a German who had'for many years been
living in Berezov, to give his services to the lady who
brought it, in every way in which she needed them.
This countryman of Agatha's had come to Russia
more than thirty years ago, under the great Peter's
terrible rule, to try his fortune there as a physician.
Skilful and active as he was, he was doing very well
in his business, when, one day at a drinking-bout,
having imbibed too freely,' he fell into a quarrel with
some Russians, and had the misfortune to kill the son
of a boyar with an empty bottle which struck his
temple. The exasperated father easily found means
to have the case treated as one of murder, instead of
~manslaughter, and the stranger was sentenced to death.
But his title of doctor saved his life. The intelligence had just reached Moscow that a malignant epidemic had penetrated into Siberia from China, which
swept away the scanty population beyond all power
of resistance, and made the desolate land still more
desolate. The czar therefore gave orders to send thither all the German doctors who could be found, and, in
consequence of this, young Dr. Brenner was pardoned,
and let off with a few blows of the knout graciously
bestowed upon him, and a life-long banishment to Siberia. He soon gained'without trouble so decided a su



17'6             FIFTEEN YEARS.
periority over his colleagues-a fewjourneyman barbers
and a runaway druggist's assistant, who had settled in
Russia as practising physicians  that his merits
were acknowledged also by the government, and he
was made physician-in-chief for half of Siberia, through
which he was obliged to make an annual journey of
inspection, while Berezov was' appointed as his place
of residence. It was this man, who was familiar with
both languages, and thoroughly at home in every thing
which concerned the place of her destination, who was
to be Agatha's support and helper in the new world
toward which love was leading her. Thus it had been
ordained by the favor of the czarina herself, who had
heard about Dr. Brenner through her private physician L'Estocq.
Agatha, however, attached but little value to this
circumstance.  All difficulties still before her had
vanished from her joy-beaming eyes. Through all the
weeks of her winter's journey, which-led her deep, deep
-into the European desert, into the Asiatic wilderness,.which was only known to her through its association.with banishment, knout, barbarity, and crime, she ex-.perienced no trace of fear and discouragement. Her
young heart could harbor only joy and gratitude to
God the deliverer, the merciful, as the sleigh flew
restlessly on over the deep snow, day and night, ever
onward and onward-all around, as far as the eye
could reach,' nothing but loneliness and desolation,
more and more a dreary waste the nearer she approached to her journey's end.  Whenever, while.changing horses, or as she received' the nourishment
which Kerkow would bring to her under the direction




AGATHA'S JOURNEY.            177
of the chasseur, a human eye met her own, it rested
upon her kindly, full of pity and respect, which latter
feeling was called forth by the imperial protection
under which she travelled. Had she been an exile,
the pity of the kind-hearted Russian peasants, which
accompanies all those sent "into misery," would have
met her still more warmly. As it was, her youth, her
beauty, and the pallor of her cheeks, which alternated
with a feverish color, secured to her the sympathy of
all who saw her. Besides gratitude to God, her heart
had room but for one feeling: "I shall have' him
back again!'He is saved! "
Happy youth, which sees a star of hope shining
even through the darkest clouds that threateningly
cover the horizon; while age, and even the mature intelleot, are forced to plod onward along an unillumined path!
Berezov was, in the middle of the last century, one
of the best towns of Siberia, but still a dreary, comfortless place, such as Agatha had never seen. In summer
it was somewhat enlivened by a river, on which'fishingboats passed to and fro; now the town, the river, and
the whole country around, were all covered with one
boundless sheet of snow. The nearer she drew to
her destination, the higher did Agatha's' heart beat;
and now only a feeling of oppression came' over
her, which increased to a kind of stupor. She had, as
has been observed before, attached but little importance to the letter to Dr. Brenner. At least she had
given orders, so as not to lose a moment, to have the
sleigh stop at the house of the governor, to- whom, as
she thought, she only needed to show the empress's




178              FIFTEEN YEARS.
order to liberate Moritz. But now it suddenly struck
her as possible that the governor, whose authority
here was quite an arbitrary one, might have sent
Moritz to another place, in which case an explanation
would be very difficult. She therefore concluded to
go first to the doctor, and altered her commands to
that effect.
After a night rendered sleepless and long by impatience, the travellers at length arrived in Berezov.
Fourteen days and nights had passed since they had
left St. Petersburg. They drove through long, wide
streets formed by one-storied wooden houses, surrounded by smaller out-houses. The sleigh finally
stopped before one of the best of the former, the
house of the physician.
By a fortunate accident, Dr. Brenner had just returned from his tour of inspection; his horse and
sleigh were still standing unharnessed in the courtyard; and the doctor, wrapped in a thick fur coat, had
entered the house at the very moment when Agatha's
sleigh stopped before it. He stepped outside of the
door again while she alighted.
A short, thick-set man stood before her and looked
at her searchingly with a pair of sparkling eyes,
which shone out from between black, bushy eyebrows
and, copper-colored cheeks. A thick black beard,
streaked with gray, almost concealed the lower part
of his face. He cast his eye over the imperial letter,
which Agatha gave him with trembling hand, and
the expression of his face grew still darker.  Once
more he looked at her sharply, as he raised his fur
cap and said, in a gruff voice, "Walk in, madame."




AGATHA'S JOURNEY.           179
Agatha entered the bare, inhospitable room of her
countryman. She sunk upon the wooden chair which
he offered to her, and asked, in a low voice: " Do
you know Baron Hlohenhorst?  Do you know my
husband? And is he here? "
<"I know your husband," he answered, curtly.
"And why should he not be here? He was here four
weeks ago, when I started on my journey."
" Oh, my dear sir," said Agatha, as she rose and
sunk back trembling on her chair, "let us not lose a
moment, let us go to the governor!"
" One moment's patience," replied the doctor, taking a bottle from a cupboard in the corner, and pouring out a glass of brandy, which he offered her.
"You need strengthening."
Agatha drew back with a shudder. "Oho! " said
the doctor, with a coarse laugh, ";I see your ladyship
is a stranger in this country.'No living- in Russia
without brandy." He forced her to take at least a
few drops. Then he went on:
" Your ladyship may make yourself easy. Your
husband has been betteroff here than ever any one
else sent into misery. The governor is an idiot, but
he is not a bad man, and, stupid though he is, he knew
well enough what there was of Baron Hohenhorst,
and how to trn it to the best advantage. You see
he'had a son whom he idolized, the only one left to
him of ten children. The boy was growing up here
without instruction, like a calf. When the German
baron came, the old man soon found out that he was
a scholar, and made him the teacher and guide of his
son, and so he had a good time, got the best of such




180             FIFTEEN YEARS.
food as we can get in this God-forsaken land, and
your husband was wise, and kept himself and the boy
out of the governor's way whenever he was drunk.
But the boy had a good heart; he wouldn't look at
any one but Hohenhorst, or Gongorst, as the barbarians here call him, and perfectly idolized him. - Now
you see, madame," continued the doctor, beginning to
grow excited, "you see the boy fell sick, and finally
went into a quick consumption. No medical skill in
the world can cure that in a day. The father began
to whine and to blubber like an old woman, and
thought he knew better; and asked the advice of an
old witch, and secretly:doctored the boy with quack
medicines, and had charms spoken, and the sign of
the cross made over him, till lie succeeded in getting
him into his grave. And on that, madame," he cried,
with an oath, and almost in a rage, "on that I made
a solemn vow that I would not enterhis house again.
He is the governor, to be sure. But what do I care
for that? He needs me more than I him. They
can't do without me here. I am determined to have
my rights, and I'm sorry about the boy."
Agatha had listened to him as if stunned. ".Good
God!" she cried, starting up in dismay," a vow!
Then I must go alone to the governor, to my husband.
The heavenly Father will assist me!"
"Patience-patience, madame!" he cried, still in
a tone of annoyance, though somewhat pacified.
"The empress commands. What can I do? - In this
accursed land we can only obey. And I'm sorry for
you, and you can't get along without me."
Agatha gladly let him have the satisfaction of




AGATHA'S JOURNEY.            181
thinking so. A short ride brought them to the house
of the governor, a miserable edifice, which was hardly
superior to that of the doctor, except that it covered
more ground, and was made still more repulsive by
the filth accumulated about its entrance.
The day had progressed meanwhile, and the governor was already in his office-a long, dreary apartment, with coarse benches ranged along the walls,
on which were seated several waiting clients, and a
table in the middle, at which sat a couple of secretaries. The governor, a large, coarse-looking man,
with a broad, dark-red face, and small gray eyes, from
which shone an expression of unmistakable good-nature, was walking to and fro while giving his orders.
He wore an old sheepskin, thrown over a shabby uniform, and from his whole appearance he would have
been taken in Germany rather for a coachman or hostler than for a high official.
When Dr. Brenner entered the room, he cast upon
him a look of welcome, evidently rejoiced at seeing
him reconciled. But his eyes turned in some dismay
to the lady who accompanied the doctor, whose refined
appearance quite confused him.
Agatha's mind had reached the highest pitch of
excitement. With convulsive haste she approached
the stranger, on whose answer her life's happiness
depended, and held toward him, without uttering a
word, the order of the empress.
Her eyes were fastened upon the features of the
bewildered governor.  He read. But what words
could express what she felt when she saw him turn
pale-when she saw him tremble convulsively, and




182             FIFTEEN YEARS.
the hand which held the paper drop to his side, while
he muttered a few words which were incomprehensible
to her!
She stared at him, speechless, confounded.
He repeated the words, turning to the doctor.
Bewildered, beseechingly her eyes followed his
movement. The doctor summoned courage to speak.
At length he said, in a low voice, "Ze is dead;
has been dead three weeks I"




CHAPTER IX.
NEW TRIALS.
WHO could depict Agatha's state when those terrible words suddenly snapped the overstrained chords
of her inward being? Her body, as well as her soul,
was totally exhausted. She fainted. When she came
to herself, and had with difficulty learned to comprehend her situation, she wished to see her husband's
grave. The doctor tried to dissuade her, but in-vain.
The governor, who did not cease to overwhelm the
unhappy woman with long speeches, which, from his
tone, and from the tears which ran over his coarse
face, she could understand to be expressions of sympathy, finally opened a large book, and showed the
doctor a number. She was taken to an immense field,
thickly covered with snow, from which, here and there,
a cross, coarsely fashioned of common wood, protruded.
But few among the long ranks of these rough monuments had resisted the effects of storm and wintry
weather. Moritz's cross was comparatively fresh, and
bore the number 78. For numbers only, not names,
were granted the unfortunate exiles, who, with their
social position, lost also their identity. If an aggrava



184              FIFTEEN YEARS.
tion of Agatha's anguish was possible, it was caused
by this sight.
Providence took means to prevent the poor-young
heart from bleeding to death from the fearful wound
which it had received, by inflicting another, comparatively slight one, the dressing of which laid claim to
Agatha's moral force.
Kerkow, whose advanced age had only artificially
defied the manifold hardships of the journey, could
resist no longer. He became seriously ill. Agatha
awakened to the consciousness that a duty still remained to her which bound her to life. In the house
of the doctor, where she-was supplied with every thing
needful-most imperfectly, indeed, but still better than
elsewhere in the place-she sat night and day, by the
bedside of the good old man, and nursed him with
filial care and affection. The doctor, whose clumsy
roughness was melted by his admiration for the
young, beautiful, noble lady, almost into a tenderhearted paternal familiarity, pronounced Kerkow's
illness more likely to be protracted than dangerous.
A truly humane sympathy was united in him to the
prospect of an ample remuneration. In the twilight
of the sick-room, during the long evenings, he would
tell Agatha about MIoritz, whom he had seen a great
deal of, and in the intercourse with whom, as he said,
he had once more refreshed himself after many dreary
years. Moritz's pupil, he repeated, was- a bright, affectionate boy, was fond of learning, had spoken Ger-,man and French, and studied various other things,
and had clung to his tutor with all the love of his
childish heart. And Moritz had nursed him faithfully




NEW TRIALS.              185
during his illness, and watched by him every night,
for which the father had. always been full of his
praises, so that madame might depend upon it that
her husband had been well treated. The governor
had told him that Moritz had probably caught the
fever from the boy. He had died, after a short illness,
during the absence of the doctor.
Here the latter, ever mistrustful, added, somewhat
dubiously: " Whether the old fool did not, on some
occasion when he was trying to drink down his grief
for his.Sasha,* and had drained his bottle rather too
deeply, lay hands on your husband, that I will not
answer for. A man in liquor is but half a man!" (A
sad truth drawn from his own experience.) "It seems
to me sometimes as if he had something on his conscience. The old fellow often stops here to inquire
about Kerkow. But your ladyship he is afraid to see.
He says your grief makes him too soft-hearted. And
he sheds tears enough whenever he speaks of you, for
tears flow very easily with the Russians."
Spring had for some time been smiling on German
lands, but an impenetrable crust of snow fortunately
still covered the Siberian steppes, when Kerkow's restored health at length admitted of the travellers' leaving Berezov. Sometimes, when sitting, lost in mournful meditation, by the old man's bedside, Agatha,
as she thought of the possibility that he too might
be called home by God, and she obliged to return
alone, had been seized with a morbid longing to end
her life here, in the vicinity of Moritz's grave; but
then would come the thought of her aged parents, and
* Abbreviation of Alexander.




186             FIFTEEN YEARS.
oh! of her deserted child-Moritz's child! Shp was
terrified at herself! "Forgive me, dearest," she would
then say inwardly, "forgive my unmotherly cowardice! I will love our child tenfold, a thousand-fold, for
thy sake!"
More than two years had slowly crept away. Agatha was once more living in the house of her parents,
just as before her marriage, only that the misty twilight shed by the never-ending sameness of the family
devotions, was lit up for the loving mother by the sunbeams which shone from her little daughter's eyes.
Nevertheless, life weighed very oppressively upon the
young widow. She felt that she had changed. While
she was conscious of having, under Moritz's brief
guidance, and subsequently through the sore afflictions
of an enforced self-dependence, drawn nearer to God,
she felt at the same time that she had become estranged from the expression of piety which her venerated parents gave to theirs. Thus a sort of inner unrest came over her, which she strove alternately to
conquer and to forget in the loving companionship of
her child. But in vain.
There was, however, a heavier trial in store for
her. The countess, quite advanced in age, for Agatha
was the youngest of her children, had been enabled,
by a strong, robust constitution, and an exceedingly
temperate mode of life, to retain her vigor in a surprising degree. But now she was seized by an inward trouble, which confined her to her bed for some
time. The disease was painful. The excellent woman's true piety showed itself in the inexhaustible pa



NEW TRIALS.              187
tience with which she bore, first, the inactivity forced
upon her, and ere long the not inconsiderable suffering
which her illness occasioned. The pain, indeed, grew
more and more violent, and the physicians at length,
after the patient had been under their treatment for
full six months, pronounced the disease incurable.
No human being was ever better prepared for
death than Countess Benigna. But, although edifying, it yet made an awful impression on the husband
and daughter, when the sick woman, instead of bearing the sufferings which God sent her in quiet resignation, broke into a loud burst of triumph with every
new attack of bodily pain, praising the Lord for letting
her endure, while still in this world, the punishment
which, as one of the sinful race of man, she had richly
merited, even though the Saviour had washed her
clean with His blood, and thus preparing unalloyed
happiness for her in the life beyond. It was only
when, a few days before her death, her bodily sufferings ceased, that she grew quiet in the feeling that her
God was reconciled, and she looked like a saint, as,
filled.with rapture, she seemed to see heaven opening
before her, and, with a transfigured smile, bestowed
a blessing on the loved ones whom she left behind.
Agatha shed many burning tears for the precious
departed one. She had now a heavy task to perform,
in endeavoring to do all in her power to replace to her
poor desolate father the loving wife who had been in
all things his faithful helpmeet. She relieved the old
gentleman, as much as possible, from all business
cares; but it was not in her quiet, introspective nature to serve him, instead of Countess Benigna, as a




188             FIFTEEN YEARS.
spiritual support, nor enliven him by her companionship in the diffuse, talkative manner which had afforded him constant entertainment. She would bring
him the child, which he loved with all a grandfather's
affection; but that would fill up only a small part of
the day. She searched among the old books, handed
down from his grandfather, for one which would interest him; but, whatever she might select, hardly fifteen minutes would pass before he was fast asleep.
An innocent little game of cards, such as tric-trac or
grabtge, she did not venture to propose, for fear of insulting the memory of her venerated mother.
It was therefore hardlyto be wondered at that
-the poor count at length sought entertainment outside,
and, after the first half of the mourning year was over,
used the visits of condolence which he had received
from the whole neighborhood, as a means of.renewing
a social intercourse which had been completely discontinued. As his health had improved perceptibly, he
began once more to make calls, mostly on the pious
families of the neighboring estates, in some cases also
on others, with whom the countess had kept.up an
acquaintance in Agatha's early youth. He was everywhere received with great politeness, and by degrees
time began to weigh less heavily upon him.
For Agatha this turn of events was a great relief;
she was, however, firm in her respectful refusal to accompany her father on his visits. She occupied herself more and more with her child, and cherished in
her heart a plan by the. execution of which she desired
to honor the memory of her beloved dead. Living
simply, and entirely secluded from society as she did,




NEW TRIALS.               189
she used only a small portion of the money settled
upon her at her marriage. Thus her income had increased to a small capital. With this money it was
her wish to found an orphan asylum-the new government left her free to do so-and she could sit for
hours, occupied with- her needlework, and think how
she could best unite, as the principle on which to base
the education of her little orphan charges, the religion
of her beloved mother with Moritz's more enlightened
piety. Thus Agatha's memories of her departed ones
were ever connected with the thought of God; she
was calm and resigned, and always cheerful with her
child. But her beauty, which was developing more
and more, bloomed in total darkness, and was seen
and admired by no one but the humble inmates of her
household.
At supper, after his return from his afternoon coffee-visits, her father would tell her of one thing and
another which he had heard discussed, after she had
given him a detailed report of all little Caritas's sayings and: doings during- his absence; how she had
learned one new word, or comically distorted another,
etc.; and the delight and laughter of the fond grandfather formed one of the chief joys of.her life. In all
that he communicated to her there was little to interest her, except that he was contented. It was with
some dismay, however, that she heard one evening
that he felt most at home in a certain noble family
who lived at some distance from Wildeneck, which
circumstance had afforded her mother a pretext for
breaking off the intercourse with them  altogether,
though she did not conceal the fact of her having




190             FIFTEEN YEARS.
still other reasons for doing so, which, however, she
never mentioned.
Count Zeschau and his family had moved into the
neighborhood during Agatha's earliest childhood; they
had joined the circle of the pietists after thoroughly
exhausting the pleasures of the world, and the father
and mother personally had never given any cause for
censure. This was, however, an easier thing for them
than for the numerous daughters with whom their
union had been blessed; these were by no means dead
to the world's pleasures, and a suspicious wavering
on their part between worldiness and sancity soon
awakened the'decided displeasure of Countess Promnitz. It was hardly once a year that she included the
family of Count Zeschau in her round of visits. At
length the young countesses were all married according to their rank, two to children of the world, three
to pious husbands, with the exception of one, the
handsomest of all. But she was also the one who had
been most talked about, not only among the pietists,
but also in the circles of the wicked world. She alone
had remained single, and was now living as a so-called
old maid in the house of her parents.
Countess Aurora had several times been engaged
to be married, but on each occasion the connection
had been dissolved without any cause ever having
been made known. Repeatedly, too, scandal had accused her of equivocal love-intrigues, in which she was
said by no means to have confined herself to her own
rank. She had never, during her wild life, assumed
the mask of piety. She would be absent for years,
with relations in Breslau or Vienna, and, when she




NEW TRIALS.              191
came on a visit to her parents, she gave much offence,
and that not only among the pious community, by
horseback riding, hunting, and talking loudly whereever she went. But, about six or seven years ago, she
had been converted by an eloquent young minister,
and a change had come over her. Since then she had
\remained at home with her parents, had infused much
more zeal into their lukewarm devotions, and banished,
with iron rigor, all worldly practices which had gradually crept into their mode of life. In her consistency
she soon ruled the whole house. Particularly among
the maid-servants she maintained the strictest discipline. Even in church the glances of the red-cheeked
among them were watched over by Countess Aurora,
to see whether their traitor eyes did not perhaps wander toward some young fellow, in which case they had
to undergo the punishment of a longer sermon at home
than they had heard in church.
It was in this house, avoided by Countess Benigna,
that the old. count had met with a particularly cordial
reception, and he could not say enough in praise of
the kindness which the old lady there, as well as the
young one, invariably showed him. He told with delight how they would always have the most comfortable easy-chair in readiness for him, and how the good
Countess Aurora was wont to place a cushion at his
back, which she herself had made for him. And then
one could never tire of conversing with her. She had
seen the world, and always had something to tell and
to comment upon with edifying reflections. She had
also entirely, on her parents' account, as the count declared, reintroduced a quiet domestic game of Phom



192             FIFTEEN YEARS.
bre, and he had allowed himself to be persuaded to
make the fourth in it, which certainly could not offend
the spirit of his beloved Benigna, as they always, before sitting down to play, knelt around the table in
prayer.
Agatha heard the good old gentleman's' account
with a feeling of shame. She was heartily glad of the
little diversion for her poor father. But slhe beheld,
in spirit, Moritz's slight sarcastic smile, and heard her
mother's long sermon, expressed in mild'words indeed,
but accompanied by such grave, earnest looks, that'
husband and daughter would have bowed beneath
them.
The second half of the mourning-year had passed
in this way.  The count went more and more frequently to Castle Wernersdorf; indeed, without Agatha being aware of it, for she considered it contrary
to filial respect to watch her father's movements, he at
length passed almost every afternoon there.
One morning, when Kerkow entered her room to
clear the breakfast-table-she was in the habit of
breakfasting alone with Carry, as the count took his
coffee in bed-it struck her that, entirely contrary to
his usual custom, he made much ado about his simple
task. He placed the cups on the tray, took them off
again, brushed the table-cloth, piled the cups together
again, and could not come to an end.
She rose, took a book, and sat down in the sofacorner to read, as was her wont, while Carry ran about
the garden with her nurse.
"The good man is growing old," she thought, compassionately, as, a few minutes later, she saw Kerkow




NEW TRIALS.              193
still occupied at the table. "Even this slight service
is beginning to be hard for him. What can I do for
him?"
But when she observed that the old servant from
time to time cast a furtive glance at her, and then
leaned over the table again in some confusion, she
asked kindly:
"What ails you, my dear Kerkow? Are you not
quite well?"
"Thank your ladyship for the gracious inquiry,"
he answered quickly, "I am as well as I could ask the
dear Lord to let me be at my age. But I-"
lHe stopped, embarrassed.  Well? " inquired Agatha, who had been accustomed from her childhood to
the prolixities of the old man-" well, what is it?
Can I do something for you? You know well, my
good friend, that I am glad to do for you all that I
can do."
The old man burst into tears. "That's just it,"
he said, leaving the table and coming nearer to her.
"Your ladyship is so good, and to think what you
will suffer when every thing is so changed here at the
castle."
"Changed? What do you mean?" his mistress
asked, in surprise. "I hope my father has not been
taken ill in the night?." And she'rose in alarm.
"Oh, no!" replied Kerkow, in a soothing tone,
"his honor the count is very well, and looks quite
fresh and good-humored, since the tailor from Breslau
brought him his new clothes. But I am so sorry for
your ladyship, and for the sake of my dear honored
mistress that's dead!"
9




194             FIFTEEN YEARS.
Agatha looked at him in bewilderment. "What
is it, Kerkow? Speak without reserve."
"Well, your ladyship, Joseph" (the count's bodyservant) "says they had a quiet betrothal at Castle
Wernersdorf yesterday; and old Martin, the coachman that drove him yesterday (for Johann was sick),
says it all happened just as Joseph told it, for he
was up-stairs in the anteroom, and stood by the door,
where he could see and hear every thing."
"Well," said Agatha, "how does that concern
me?" But her heart beat audibly as she continued:
"For my papa's sake, I am almost sorry that Countess
Aurora has made up her mind to marry so late in life,
for she is very entertaining, and her house will not
offer so much attraction after she has left her poor
aged parents. But to us it matters nothing what she
may do."
Kerkow looked into her face. "Ah!" he said,
honestly, "your ladyship is just as innocent as the
dear little comtesse used to be, that I have so often
carried about the garden in my arms. Don't your
ladyship see? His honor the count has already got
tired of his bachelor-life. And," he continued, with a
fresh burst of tears, "our dear good sainted lady is
hardly cold in her grave."
Agatha started up in alarm, and sunk back upon
the sofa, unable to'control herself. "It is not possible," she thought; "it is a piece of gossip of the servants. I will not believe it!"  She begged Kerkow
to leave her alone. "Oh, my mother, my mother!"
she cried, weeping, " art thou so soon forgotten? Is
thy place so soon to be filled?" She reproached her



NEW TRIALS.               195
self for not having done more for her father since her
mother left them. But who can act against his nature
without constraint? She thought with pity of her
por lonely.father. "It cannot be true," she consoled
herself. "And Countess Aurora? What could have
induced her to take this step? She' must be thirty
years younger than my father." But, ignorant of the
ways of the world though she was, the answer yet
intruded itself upon her, as it were. She knew that
the family of Count Zeschau was not rich. Castle
Wernersdorf would fall, on the death of the count
(which could not be far distant), to the next male
heir, a cousin in the second or third degree. An
ample widow's dower was secured to the old countess,
but the capital which would form the inheritance of
the six daughters would hardly suffice, when divided
into six parts, for a few years' pin-money for ladies of
rank. The five married sisters might bear this with
resignation, but for Countess Aurora there was nothing
in prospect but a disagreeably dependent position in
the house of one of her brothers-in-law, unless she
found means to establish, before her parents' death,
a household of her own.
Agatha's heart was very, very heavy. It had
grown late, meanwhile. The hour when she generally
bade her father good-morning had already passed by.
She started, as she looked at the clock, left Caritas,
who at other times always accompanied her, in the
garden, and hastened to the saloon in which the count
generally awaited her.
The old gentleman received her more kindly than
ever, and seemed not to miss the child at all. She




196             FIFTEEN YEARS.
was surprised to see that he was not dressed, as was
usually the case at this hour, in his comfortable dressing-gown, but in his new suit of clothes. He had
doffed his mourning habiliments a few days before.
The light brown of his silk coat, which contrasted
rather vividly with the crimson brocade of his waistcoat, made him appear younger at the first glance,
but, on closer observation, caused his old, wrinkled
face to look still older. When she seated herself,
with beating heart, on the sofa by his side, he took
her hand affectionately, and said, after an embarrassed
pause:
"I wish, my darling daughter, that you would
make up your mind to marry again."
"Dear papa, you know how often I have told you
and my beloved, never-to-be-forgotten mamma, that
that will never-never happen; that I should consider
it a sin to contract a new marriage while my heart is
in my dead husband's grave."
" Yes, my daughter, but your sainted mother herself proposed that we should spend the winters in
Glogau again, or go to Berlin for a few months, so
that you might make acquaintances, and'not fade
away here in obscurity; and we should have done
so, if the dear Lord had not decreed otherwise,
and recalled her precious soul to His heavenly kingdom."
"She would have yielded to my respectful resistance, as you will do, dear papa."
"'It is not good for man to be alone,' saith the
Lord," observed the count, after a short, embarrassed
pause.




NEW TRIALS.               197
"I am not alone, gracious papa, as long as I have
Caritas and you"-for she saw plainly that he had
something else to say, but was at a loss how to introduce it, and, for the first time in her life, a certain bitterness mingled with her filial love and respect-" and
you, so long as you permit me to be your companion
and nurse."
This cleared the way. The count came out, in
confused words, with the avowal that he had, the day
before, secured- for himself another companion and
nurse. He said he had fully intended to communicate the matter to her, his faithful daughter, beforehand, and consult with her about it, but that yesterday, he hardly knew how, he had convinced himself
more than ever of the warm interest which the whole
Zeschau family felt in him, and that Countess Aurora
could really accommodate herself so well to his foibles, indeed, that she rather liked them, so that, when
he offered her his hand, she had not even asked for
time to consider the subject, as was the general custom. Quite accidentally, her parents and the village
pastor had happened to enter the room just at that
moment, and so the betrothal ceremony had taken
place, quietly and simply, as was suitable for the
count's venerable years, and before he was very well
aware of it.
The count's embarrassed report served only to
cast down Agatha all the more.     Inexperienced
though she was, she yet could plainly see that the fortress had been won by craft and storm, and that the
good old man had been taken by surprise. But she
respectfully restrained her feelings, and promised to




198              FIFTEEN YEARS.
be ready at eleven o'clock to call with her father at
Castle Wernersdorf.
But sad and constrained as she felt when she went
there, she came back with far deeper sadness and far
more perplexing fears in her heart; her clear vision
had soon recognized in Aurora the dangerous hypocrite.
Countess Aurora still bore, in her forty-sixth year,
the traces of great beauty, and her fashionable attire,
which she had tastefully modified after the style of
the pious sect to which she had for some years past
belonged, was very becoming to her majestic figure.
In the spiritual blending, too, of the contrasting interests which ruled her life, she could make herself
agreeable enough when she chose to do so. But in
her reception of Agatha her intentions were too apparent.  She greeted the future "beloved madame
her daughter," with  such exaggerated tenderness,
asked in- terms of such boundless affection for little
Caritas, whom she declared she already loved like her
own child, expressed so eloquently her hopes of an intimate companionship, which would enable them all
four, in a quiet existence, pleasing in the sight of
God, to forget the evil world, that Agatha's pure
heart gradually contracted convulsively.  Almost
more repulsive to her were the flatteries with which
this artful woman deluded the poor count. While to
Agatha it was almost painful to see the old red, yet
wrinkled face, smiling from out the fashionable new
wig, and to recognize the restraint put upon the thick
stiff limbs by the unaccustomed stylish garments,
she heard:Aurora:praise- the youthful appearance




NEW TRIALS.,             199
of the weak-headed old man, and perceived with
sorrow how pleased he was with the compliment.
A deep, tender pity for him arose in her heart,
and she resolved to honor and love him more than
ever.
She felt decidedly that she would have to conduct
herself with the utmost precaution, as well as to avoid
all close contact with this woman. She therefore
asked her father, on the.same evening, to grant her a
favor. She begged him, as he would not find it unnatural that she wished for a certain degree of independence, to allow her in future to occupy, with her
child, a small pavilion, which, as the style of the gardens of that time, laid out according to French taste,
required, stood at some distance from the castle, at
the end of the garden.  The pavilion had never
indeed served as a dwelling, and had only at times, on
grand occasions, been used for drinking the afternoon
coffee in its saloon. But the two smaller apartments
adjoining the latter could easily be converted into
bedrooms for Agatha and Caritas, with her nurse.
For Kerkow there was room in one of the large
chambers next the kitchen, in the basement. Agatha's maid could sleep at the castle, and come to her
mistress at an early hour in the morning. She had
arranged every thing in her mind before she laid
her request before her father.
The count, after she had removed some objections-that the pavilion was not large enough or good
enough for her; that she was not to be displaced in
any way, etc-finally acquiesced, and gave orders already the next morning to have the pavilion furnished




200              FIFTEEN YEARS.
as handsomely and comfortably as possible. Indeed,
he was so kind and liberal in his directions, that Agatha was forced to restrain him., But she had to
promise him one thing, i. e., that she would take her
meals at the castle with her parents, and bring Caritas with her, whenever it was feasible or proper.




CHAPTER X.
SULTRY DAYS.
AFTER a short engagement, the wedding of the
noble couple was celebrated with all the splendor and
ceremony which were considered due to the high rank
of the two families. That dancing and noisy wedding
festivities should be excluded, was a matter of course
with the avowed disciples of the school of Spener.
The new Countess Promnitz regarded Agatha's removal to the pavilion with decided displeasure, and
endeavored to cause the scheme to be abandoned;
but Agatha, however yielding she thought it her duty
to be in other things, remained firm. And she had
all the more reason to be satisfied with the arrangement, since Caritas, with a child's instinctive feeling,
contracted a violent dislike to her new grandmother,
repulsed her caresses with sulky rudeness, or at the
most, if urgently admonished beforehand, or threatened with punishment for her obstinacy, submitted to
a kiss with trembling resignation. Hence it was certainly the best policy to keep the little girl away from
the castle as much as was compatible with the pleasure which her fond grandfather took in her. For
Countess Aurora at length lost patience, and was not




202              FIFTEEN YEARS.
wanting in severe remarks to the effect that "he that
spareth his rod hateth his son."
Agatha found some degree of consolation in seeing
that her father, who, as might have been expected,
had soon fallen back into the senile habits of a man of
seventy-six, was at least kindly cared for, and his comfort attended to, even though somewhat despotically.
As a matter of course, she had delivered up the household keys to her step-mother, and yielded to her, as
soon as she demanded it, such business as she had
taken upon herself since her mother's death. She inquired, modestly, whether she might still retain the
superintendence of the school, in which she had already
assisted her mother while yet a child; but Countess
Aurora quite resented the question, and asked, on her
part, with scarlet face, "whether madame her daughter had any doubts of her benevolence? " At any rate,
Agatha was forced to admire the activity and untiring
energy of her step-mother. She soon saw her, not only
at the head of the whole household, and housekeeper
and maid-servants in constant dread of her sharp eye,
but in the course of a few months Countess Aurora
had also familiarized: herself with the management of
the whole estate, had gained a thorough oversight of
all outstanding capital, and freed her husband from
every care. It was she who examined the accounts
of-the stewards, who drew up the necessary papers for
collecting other income, and merely handed them to
the count for his signature, and who, after closely calculating their correctness, took strict charge of all the
sums received'The worthy old'. gentleman had long been accus



SULTRY DAYS.              203
tomed to be led by female hands, but the consoling
consciousness of being master in his own house had
never been taken from him under his Benigna's wise
guidance. He also retained enough outside occupation to help him pass away his time. But now he saw
himself, not without a slight feeling of shame, deprived
of all business, "from regard for his health," or " so
as to save him trouble," without, however, suffering
any more from ennui on that account; for Countess
Aurora was inexhaustible in entertaining talk on various subjects, such as complaints of the unreliableness
and sinfulness of the servants, or reminiscences of her
former life, of the " wicked, sinful world," which were
generally not wanting in the piquant flavor peculiar to
the "chronique scandaleuse." The count, therefore,
began by degrees to find his idle life quite comfortable,
and, aside from this, he received at the end of each
month a proof of the advantages of his second wife's
household management, in her showing him, on the
books, the amount of the income and expenses for that
period, and convincing him how much the latter had
diminished and the former had increased. How an increase was possible, without a far stricter rule than accorded with his views, he could hardly comprehend;
but he was particularly surprised that his wife could
save so much by lessened expenses, when he noticed
no material change in the mode of housekeeping, except, perhaps, that he became aware, on the occasion
of the necessary replenishing of the wine-cellar, of a
difference which did not strike him quite pleasantly.
It was this, that he had for some time been drinking
inferior wine; but the countess insisted upon it that




204             FIFTEEN YEARS.
the heavy, expensive Hungarian wines, which he had
drunk heretofore, were injurious to him, and expressed
such affectionate solicitude with regard to his health,
that he could not but submit, though not without a
sigh.
But what Countess Aurora did with the money thus
saved was incomprehensible to him. On his once asking her about it, she answered him by a modest, downcast look, with an insinuating kiss on the'cheek, and
the admonition to remember that the dear Lord Jesus
has told us "not to let our left hand know what our
right hand doeth."
And, indeed, it must be supposed that the countess
did the good which she conferred on the poor very
secretly, for no supplicants were allowed to show themselves at the castle, and the regular house-poor, whom
Countess Benigna had accustomed to come thither for
years past, were all turned away with the message
"that the gracious countess wished to examine their
cases anew before doing any thing for them," and had
since found their way to the pavilion.
There is room for suspicion, therefore, that Countess Aurora exercised her benevolence during the lonely
expeditions which she would from time to time undertake while her husband was enjoying his long afternoon nap. She would drive to a wood some distance
off, through which a road led to a village which was
nearer to Werniersdorf than to Wildeneck. Here she
would alight, ordering the driver and lackey to wait
for her, would walk out of sight, and, after remaining
absent a couple of hours, would return by the same
road. The men related the matter to the maids at




SULTRY DAYS.              205
home, who puzzled their brains as to what the countess
could have to do there. In the servants' room, where
the new mistress was more feared than loved, the subject was thoroughly discussed in the evening. Stimu.
lated by the girls, Jacob repeatedly resolved to follow
his mistress secretly, but found it more convenient, as
the heat of summer increased, to sleep away the time
of her absence inside the carriage. The secret, therefore, remained unrevealed.
With so many domestic cares and the adjusting
of old and new business matters, Countess Aurora had
until now been quite resigned to the want of social intercourse which she experienced at Wildeneck, the
pious neighborhood of which suited her less than the
more mixed society about Wernersdorf. But as the
cold season approached, she proposed to the count to
resume his old habit of spending the winter months in
Glogau. The house there was still empty, for in the
middle of the last century it would have been considered very improper in Germany for a count of the
empire to let his residence. But the count feared the
inconvenience of moving, and refused the more decidedly, since he knew that he would not succeed in inducing Agatha to accompany them. He did not wish
to lose his daily plaything, little Caritas, even for a
few months.
The countess did not mention the matter again;
but when, toward Christmas, the old gentleman fell
ill, in consequence of an indigestion, the result of partaking immoderately of a favorite dish, his wife was
so much alarmed, because there was no physician at
hand, that he pitied her. When the doctor failed to




206              FFTEEN YEARS.
come, though she had dispatched messenger after messenger in quest of him, and a second, for whom in her
anxiety the countess had sent her own carriage, only
arrived, in consequence of the bad roads, when the
patient was quite well again, he himself proposed, in
order to spare her loving heart such agitations in future, to go to town for a few months after Christmas.
The countess declared that she had quite given up her
plan, but finally, from fear of a relapse on the part of
the count, gave her consent.
She was too shrewd not to know that, without
Agatha, her house would have few attractions for the
young officers of the garrison. But she wished, during her short stay in town, to pave the way for -a livelier, less monotonous life in summer, in doing which
her chief object, aside from several others of minor importance, was to see Agatha married again. For, although she lived in perfect peace with her step-daughter, and they had never had even a word of disagreement, she was yet conscious that Agatha was not, nor
ever could be, her friend. The unaffected, truly modest,
womanly dignity of the latter was a constant silent reproach to her. For this reason alone, she would have
been most desirous to remove Agatha from her father's
house, even if her presence had not in other ways interfered with her plans.
The fame of the rich and beautiful youngwidow
had long since spread over the whole country, and of
course offered attractions enough to the young Prussian officers who had been brought to the neighborhood by the occupation of Silesia. But the family of
Count Promnitz had, since the misfortune which Mo



SULTRY -DAYS.             207
ritz's imprudence had brought upon them, lived in
such seclusion that callers were very rarely admitted. Even the visits of condolence received after the
death of the countess had only been returned by blackedged cards, and with the city, particularly, all communication whatever had been broken off.
Countess Aurora's skill and knowledge of the
world, however, soon enabled her to put things back
into their old track again, and to make the way to
Wildeneck more accessible than it had ever been before. When the noble couple left town in spring, they
were not sparing in invitations for the summer, which
were accepted with hopeful thanks, and the first business of the countess on reaching home was to have
the long-empty guest-chambers put in order for Wildeneck was almost too far from Glogau to be convenient
for a mere call.
Agatha, meanwhile, had passed her time in complete solitude, and happy to a certain degree in her
child, yet at times disturbed by anxious feelings.
For, shortly before her father's departure, he had had a
conversation with liim, which had impressed her most
unpleasantly. We know that she had formed the
plan of founding an orphan asylum, which she had intended chiefly as a memorial of her mother. On her
return from her unfortunate journey, she had wished
to give up her claims to the annuity of fifteen hundred
thalers which had been settled on her at her marriage,
because, in the first place, the journey had cost several
thousand thalers; and, secondly, she was again living, as in former days, at her parent's expense. But
both her parents'had:refused decidedly to accept her




-208             FIFTEEN YEARS.
generous renunciation.  Since then, as has been- mentioned, she had used little more than the third part of
her income, as she, in her solitude, dressed in the simplest way, and Caritas as yet'needed no expensive instruction. She had therefore left the greater part of
her money in her father's hands, and could count upon
a sum of three or four thousand thalers.
Aside from this, she had been, since the death of
her mother, in possession of a capital which amounted to about four times the above-mentioned sum; for
the countess had made the provision in her will, that
her husband, during his lifetime, should have the use
of one-half of her income, while the other half fell
to her daughter. Agatha thus thought herself mistress of nearly twenty thousand thalers, with which,
in her opinion, a good beginning might be made.
The site for the building had been chosen, and she
intended to have the foundation laid as early as possible in the ensuing spring. She therefore: modestly
asked her father, as he was making his preparations
for going to town, to give the necessary orders.for her
money.
He listened to her with some embarrassment,
promised to attend to the matter on his return, and
endeavored, in different ways, to give another turn to
the conversation.
But when Agatha would not be put off, and repeatedly expressed the wish to defray some needful expenses connected with her plan before his return, he became annoyed, and at length explained to her, in confused words, that he was unable for the present, and
would be for the next few months, to give her any or



SULTRY DAYS.             209
ders for such large sums; that the countess, her
mother, had confessed to him, with tears, that she had
contracted a debt of no inconsiderable amount before
her marriage, in consequence of her parents having denied her the money for the acts of benevolence which
the laws of Christian charity enjoined upon her as her
duty, since she had learned to know the Lord. She
had always hoped to pay the debt by saving up a part
of her little income, but in vain; and now the pious
gentleman who had lent her the money had himself
been almost reduced to poverty by a fire, and she was
forced to restore to him the sum which he had so generously confided to her Christian charity, but knew not
how. This had caused her to weep the whole night,
so that he, the count, too, had not been able to close
his eyes; and she had given him no peace until he had
made out a check for a certain sum, so that the poor
man who had lent her the money need not suffer. She
had brought the paper for it to the bed, and had held
the candle while he signed it. It was nearly one o'clock
in the morning, he having resisted her entreaties so
long, because he did not happen to have much money
at his disposal just then, and was very loath to touch
Agatha's share. But, after that, he was at last able to
go to sleep. But Agatha should not suffer by it. He
only wished her to wait a little while, etc., etc.
Agatha listened to this explanation in silence, with
downcast looks and the most painful feelings.  She
would not humiliate her poor father still more, but
she saw clearly how matters stood, and into what
hands the weak-minded old man had fallen. During
her wintry solitude she had ample time to ask herself




210              FIFTEEN YEARS.
for what possible purpose the countess could need so
much money, and how far she might some day abuse
her influence over her husband, to the disadvantage of
his daughter and grandchild. Then there would creep
over her a certain anxious consciousness of her totally
unprotected situation; and the question would dimly
arise in her mind, whether, after all, it might not be
advisable, if a strong hand should at some future day
be held out to her, for Caritas' sake, not to reject such
a 8Support.
But when spring, Xwith the xeturn of her parents,
gradually filled the castle with visitors, who evidently
came on her account, all the crafty adroitness of her
step-mother hardly sufficed to induce her to enter into
conversation with one or the other of them. The
coarse manners of the country-gentlemen had always
been repulsive to her, and, among the officers whose
uniform her beloved husband had once worn, there was
not one who, in point of mental cultivation and moral
worth, could be in the least compared with the neverto-be-forgotten idol of her heart.




CHAPTER XI.
A NEW    WORLD.
ABOUT this time, however, a foreign nobleman came
into the neighborhood, upon whom the conversation of
the visitors turned again and again, and in whom Countess Aurora, particularly, manifested an ill-concealed
interest. This was Count Eric Balke, originally from
Sweden, but more at home in France and England,
and no stranger in Germany; for one of his uncles
had fought in the army of Charles XII., and married
a Polish-Silesian lady, who had brought him much
landed property, which directly adjoined the estate
6f Count Zeschau. These had fallen, on the division
of the inheritance of the childless couple, to one of the
husband's nephews, Count Eric Balke.
This brought the young cavalier himself to Silesia
shortly after, in the endeavor to sell the property profitably; but as he did not succeed in this, he had contented himself with renting it, and in spending the
money which it brought him in France, or wherever
else he could find a glimpse of refined culture. But
now, having been drawn to Berlin by Frederick's
fame, he had come once more into the neighborhood,
with the intention of renewing his attempt at a sale.




212              FIFTEEN YEARS.
On his former visit, more than eighteen years before, he had become the subject of general conversation, by engaging himself, after a short acquaintance,
to the beautiful and brilliant Countess Aurora, about
whom there had been much talk among high and low
on the estates round about. Indeed, even shortly before, the evil tongues had been thrown into the fullest
activity by a scarcely-veiled intrigue of the countess,
at that time already no longer young, with a French
adventurer of the worst reputation, and many an old
gossip could not wonder enough that the count had
not heard it talked about.
The betrothal had been celebrated with due solemnity, according to the custom of the time, and the
wedding-day was fixedj when the connection was suddenly broken, and that by the gentleman, the family
of the bride not venturing to lay claim to any public
satisfaction. The count, however, treated the matter
with perfect discretion, and left the country without
making the slightest attempt to justify himself by the
revelation of his motives. Aurora left home for a
while, and the matter was forgotten, until her marriage with Count Promnitz recalled this and several
subsequent adventures of hers to the memory of the
neighborhood.
When Countess Aurora first heard of Count Balke's
return, she was evidently in some excitement as to
whether he would call on her, or allow their former
relations still to have some influence on him. Her
eyes sparkled, therefore, when, one morning, his carriage drove up, and a servant in.French livery inquired whether his honor might take the liberty of




A NEW WORLD.               213
paying his respects to madame the Countess of Promnitz.
Agatha happened to be present when she received
him. She was rather surprised to see with what delight her step-mother welcomed him, for she hardly
knew that they had ever been acquainted, and was
perhaps. the only female in the neighborhood who had
never heard of the broken engagement, for her mother
carefully kept every thing that came within the limits
of scandal away from her, even when she was still a
little girl. Thus her step-mother's whole former history had remained entirely unknown to her, and it
was only her innate moral feeling which had always
kept her at a distance from the latter, even in matters
which are generally familiarly discussed among women, she could hardly herself tell why. The stranger,
however, made a very favorable impression also upon
her, and she listened to the observations of the muchtravelled man of the world, well versed in the knowledge of human nature, with pleasure and silent admiration. The embarrassment which she had felt, on first
meeting him, disappeared by degrees, under the influence of his refined manners and the skill with which,
without any apparent intention, he induced her again
and again to join in the conversation. No long, admiring gaze, such as had of late annoyed her only too
much, showed her that he was impressed by her beauty, and when her step-mother, on their guest's departure, urged upon him a speedy repetition of his call,
she was sufficiently at her ease to add that she too
would be pleased to see monsieur the count again.
As there were not decent inns, only low village




214              FIFTEEN YEARS.
taverns, in the vicinity, Count Balke had been obliged,
for the time which his business forced him to spend in
that part of the country, to appeal to the hospitality
of some of the neighboring noblemen, as was, indeed,
the custom at that period in Silesia. He spent a week
at one house, a second at another; but Countess Aurora would not let him leave her without the promise
that he would honor her and her husband by visiting
them also, when he had fulfilled the engagements already made, and the count accepted her hospitable
invitation with gratitude.
But, before that time came, he did not fail to make
repeated calls of several hours' length, at which Agatha made her appearance with pleasure, several times
even before her step-mother had sent for her, which,
however, the latter but rarely forbore to do.
On one occasion she found the two —the old count
was resting from his manifold business by a long
afternoon nap-so deeply absorbed in conversation
that they did not notice her entering the room. She
was somewhat surprised to see Count Balke bow over
her step-mother's hand and imprint a kiss upon it,
while a crafty smile lit up the lady's features quite
becomingly. Agatha receded involuntarily, with the
intention of discreetly awaiting the close of this familiar interview in the adjoining room. The latter was
the chief saloon of the castle. It had a door opening on
the balcony, which was also overlooked by the windows
of the other room, an apartment likewise used for the
reception of visitors, but serving more for the daily
private use of the Countess Aurora. Agatha stepped
out upon the balcony, and as, in walking to and fro




A NEW WORLD.              215
upon it, her eye fell upon one of the windows, she saw
the count signing a paper on his knee, and her stepmother standing before him holding the. inkstand,
which she had just taken from the open writingdesk.
"Come in, madame daughter," the latter cried, on
seeing her.:"Monsieur the count only came for a
short call to-day, and Christian charity has emboldened me to attack him with a request to contribute
to a collection which I am taking up for a poor family,
as I am wont to do. And monsieur the count has
subscribed most generously.  Ah, yes, it is more
blessed to give than to receive! For years, now, that
has been my only pleasure in this wicked world."
Agatha was not surprised at never before having
heard any thing of this poor family, for she was accustomed to the mysterious manner in which her stepmother distributed her charities. The slight, sarcastic smile of the count did not escape her, but that too
the dear innocent had repeatedly seen upon his face
without understanding it. Soon after, he took his
leave, with the promise of returning in a few days, for
a longer stay. And Agatha looked forward to this
prospect with pleasure.
For it was not to be denied that the dull monotony
of her life weighed somewhat heavily on the young
widow of hardly twenty-three. She would sew, knit,
read, play upon her old harpsichord; but her stock of
books and music was small, and she had no one to
direct her fruitless reading, or her musical exercises.
The conversation of the pietistic circles in which she
had grown up was no less tedious to her than the shal



216              FIFTEEN YEARS.
low, empty discourse, at the most rendered spicy by
a certain frivolity, of the persons who had been introduced to the castle since her father's second marriage. The intercourse with her child was her only
enjoyment. But what sensible person can play forever
with a child of three or four? Count Balke's conversation was no less instructive than agreeable. He had
travelled much, read a- great deal, and. was through
and through a man of the world. With admirable
tact he managed to make his discourse interesting to
both ladies, and even the old count rarely went to
sleep in his presence. He had something agreeable to
say to each one, and those whom he flattered were
not conscious that it was mere flattery which he bestowed upon them.
One thing, in particular, which inclined Agatha
favorably toward him, was his affectionate treatment
of Caritas, whose confidence' he had won completely.
When he took the child upon his knee and told her
about the Tower of London, and the terrible lion in it,
and the little dog which was thrown to him, and described the trembling of the little creature, and the
generosity of the lion, and the increasing courage of
the little dog, and the familiar companionship of the
two, the child's large, spiritual eyes-ah! they were
her father's eyes-seemed almost about to devour the
narrator; and when he reached the tragic end of the
story, how the little dog died, and the lion mourned
for it and would take no nourishment, and the child
sprang weeping from the count's knee, to sob out her
grief on her mother's lap-a spectator might have
thought it a picture of domestic happiness, and taken




A NEW WORLD.               217
the count for the husband and father of the little
family.
Nevertheless some of my female readers will hardly
be surprised that Agatha, young and inexperienced as
she was, never thought of looking upon the count in
the light of a lover. His fashionable wig, his gorgeous
silk attire, even his polite manners, which were far
from all foppery, did not make the man of fifty appear
a single year younger in her eyes. When, therefore,
one day, as she happened to be alone with him, he
took the opportunity of making her, in the most respectful manner, a declaration of his affection, and an
offer of his hand, she was in the highest degree surprised. But, without a moment's hesitation, though not
without some embarrassment, she replied that she
thanked him for his confidence, but was firmly resolved never to marry again.
The count, however, was too well versed in the female heart to allow himself to be discouraged by his
want of success in his:first attempt. He was not without vaniity; but that false pride, common to many men,
which considers itself humiliated by a rejection of
their hand by the lady of their choice, that self-love
which looks upon a refusal as a sort of disgrace, these
were entirely foreign to: his nature. He had for the
momeint hardly expected a different result. His plan,
was made, and she found him, during thee remainder
of his stay at the castle, the same sympathizing friend
and agreeable companion'that he had been before the
explanation between them.
Agatha, however, when she reflected upon the subject in her lonely room, began to reproach -herself-al10




218              FIFTEEN YEARS.
though she did not feel guilty-for having allowed
matters to go as far as an offer. "It is just the consequence," she said to herself-for it was only herself
whom she judged so severely-" of my having given
myself up so entirely to the pleasure of his society,
and turned my mind away from my duties." She
accused herself of having forgotten or neglected her
plan of the orphan asylum from this cause, although
the dread of speaking of the matter again to her
father had had more to do with the fact that it had
been'crowded somewhat into the background, than
the count's visit.
She therefore conquered that foolish dread, and
on the following day took the opportunity of her being alone with her father for a while, to remind him of
his promise to give full attention to her affairs after his
return to Wildeneck.
The old gentleman seemed at first to have forgotten the whole matter. When, in her gentle, patient
way, she once more explained every thing to him, he
became vexed, muttered something about useless
trouble, and that there were enough orphan asylums
in the world, and the like, but finally promised to speak
to his wife about it. When Agatha, upon this, answered,
with some irritation, "It is your affair, dear papa,
and mine, and my step-mother has nothing to do with
it," he grew still more excited, and asked, in a more
angry voice than she had ever heard from him before,
whether she thought that her money was not safe in
his hands, or that he was about to rob her of it."
In tears, but with indignant feelings, she returned
to her room. For the first time in her life, perhaps,




A NEW WORLD.               219
she felt thoroughly desolate, and the conviction forced
itself upon her that she and Caritas stood in need of a
friend, a stay,/and a support. She waited in vain for
her father to broach the subject again; she even noticed that he avoided being alone with her. But she
could see that her wish had been discussed by her
parents, from Countess Aurora's flushed face and distant manner toward herself. The latter, however, became convinced that still stronger measures were
needed, to drive her step-daughter from the house, and
to remain mistress of the field.
Count Balke, meanwhile, had concluded his sale,
and announced his intention soon to leave the neighborhood and return to Paris. A short absence of a
few: days was still necessary for the final arrangement
of his'business. He could be quite easy in leaving
Countess Aurora to play the game by herself for a
while, for he knew her too well not to feel certain that
she. would stake every thing to escape the obligation
of venturing to' return to him a certain document in
which-he promised, upon his- honor, to pay over to her
the sum of a thousand thalers, if she succeeded in persuading her step-daughter to accept him.
The conquered part of Silesia had now been for
years a Prussian province. But the institutions existing, throughout the kingdom were only introduced
here by degrees, and-just now the period had -arrived
when a change was to be made in the judiciary administration: of the new province. A new judicial
functionary was sent from Berlin, and Rauschwitz appointed as his residence. But it was difficult, nay,
impossible, to find suitable apartments for himn imme



220             FIFTEEN YEARS.
diately. Several of the hospitable proprietors of the
neighborhood had offered him rooms in their mansions,
but he had politely refused all invitations, as he wished
to be quite independent. Forthe moment he hired a
couple of miserable rooms in the village tavern, which
were but ill suited to a man of refinement and cultivation like him.
Aurora had made repeated attempts to induce
Agatha to remove to the castle, but in vain. Now,
however, she represented to her husband, with vehemence, the indignity of allowing the strange gentleman, who was a nobleman into the bargain, to live
at a low public-house.  The castle was half-empty,
and, if Agatha were not so obstinate, he might occupy
the pavilion. He would not, of course, be willing to
take it without pay, but they might give the rent to
the poor, and thus earn a reward in heaven.
But the count could not be induced to make such
a proposition to Agatha. The whole idea of letting
any of his property was contrary to-his feelings as a
nobleman. And, moreover, he had taken a dislike to
Prussian justice, and: all its officials, since his son-inlaw's misfortune, although they had little enough to
do with the court-martial which had condemned Moritz. Enough, he remained firm on this occasion, and
Countess Aurora resolved to speak to her step-daughter herself, and put an end to the matter.
Agatha was not a little surprised at a visit from
her step-mother. With indignation in her heart, yet
in a respectful tone, she refused-decidedly to leave her
place of refuge. But the Countess Aurora left no
means untried.




A NEW WORLD.              221
"Madame daughter," she said, "it is a sin and a
shame: to treat a worthy nobleman as we treat him.
And it is a sin against our dear Lord Jesus, that we
deprive the poor of the aid which we might give them
with the rent received for this pavilion. Besides, it is
the deepest mortification for me, that you are not willing to live at the castle, and under the same roof with
me. Will not the world think that it is I who have
driven you from your father's house? And what do
you suppose the neighborhood says about it, that a
young lady like you lives here all alone, with no one
to guard her and her honor? There are enough whispering and gossiping about it already. To be sure,
madame my daughter must have her reasons! Not
that I would say a word against you! But not every
one is so delicate and so considerate, when a young
woman's honor is concerned. I would not wish to
offend madame my daughter, but, I cannot. deny it, I
have often seen people put their heads together and
heard them whispering in church when madame my
daughter entered."
Agatha sat like one stupefied at the torrent of
words that was poured out upon her. But this last
blow was too severe. She burst into tears, and, wringing her hands, exclaimed in a low voice: "Oh, my
mother, my mother!"
At this moment little Caritas, who had been playing in the next room, rushed out from the half-open
door, her little hands, clinched, and cried: in childish
rage: "You bad woman, be ~till! You shall not always make my mamma cry!"
Countess Aurora stood in speechless fury. Agatha




222             FIFTEEN YEARS.
quickly seized the little girl, called to the nurse from
the window, and gave her the screaming child, with
the injunction to take it into the garden; but the:
storm now broke out again with its fullest force.
"So, madame daughter, this is the Christian training which you give your child! This is the way in
which you set her against the poor woman whom your
father has given you for a mother, and to whom you
at least owe some respect, even though you reward
all her love and care with the blackest ingratitude!"
" Madame mother," Agatha interrupted the angry
woman, in a conciliating tone, "you are really mistaken. I have never complained of you to my child.
I pray you to forgive the little girl, who became excited at seeing me weep."
"Yes, she saw you weep tears of reproach..If
that is not setting her against me, I don't know what
it is. Oh, Agatha, Agatha," she continued, herself
breaking out into tears, which were ever at her command, "is it not enough for you to have aspersed.me
to my dear husband, so that he withdraws from me
all his love, and will no longer follow my advice in
any thing? What a misfortune it is for a woman,
when others step between her and her beloved husband!"
"Madame mother," cried Agatha, "this is a terrible accusation. I have never uttered even a single
word against you to my father-never to any one."
But the torrent of words of the countess, who had
intentionally wrought herself up into excitement, still
rushed on:
"We are so happy and peaceful together when we




A NEW WORLD.              223
are alone! I could not wish for a better husband, even
though he is as old again as I am. And I don't wish
to praise myself, but every one must see that the
dear old man could not have a wife who would take
better care of him and treat him more affectionately
than I do. But when others come between us, when
others interfere-"
"Madame mother," interrupted Agatha, in order
to put an end, if possible, to these insulting remarks,
"if y6u fear my influence on my father, why are you
so bent on drawing me out of my solitude? Why do
you grudge me the peaceful quiet in which I am living here?"
"Why?" the other broke out, and a diabolical
smile distorted her face-" I will tell you why, my
gracious Widow von Hohenhorst! Because I will not
bear this scandalous state of things any longer. Because all the world knows that it is entirely contrary
to nature that young widows should live for years in
total seclusion, and that the devil torments them quite
as much as the papist nuns in their convents, if some
older pious woman does not watch them or the fear of
evil report hold them back. Here in this lonely summer-house, indeed, madame my daughter is quite undisturbed-"
Agatha's beautiful, innocent eyes had gazed upon
the furious woman at the beginning of this horrible
speech in amazement, and without the least comprehension of her meaning. Suddenly a dim light broke in
upon her as to what these venomous words were intended to convey. She rose quickly, in the full pride
of womanly dignity.




224             FIFTEEN YEARS.
"I should degrade myself by listening to you any
longer," she said, with a look of the deepest contempt,
as she went into the adjoining bedroom and bolted
the door behind her. She stopped her ears with her
hands, so as not to understand the invectives which
the other sent after her. Thus she sunk into an armchair, and sat there a long while, trembling and pale,
until she at length heard the outer door of the pavilion flung to violently, and could be certain that the
venom of the dangerous serpent would no longer bespatter her.
Then she returned to her sitting-room, hoping to
feel less oppressed in a larger apartment. She walked
to and fro, stopped at the window without looking out
of it, and again walked to and fro; but her excitement did not abate. ("What can I do," she said to
herself, "to guard myself against this horrible woman? I cannot, ought not to live with her any longer.
And must I go out alone into a strange world, poor,
inexperienced creature that I am? lIust I go unprotected from my father's house, and leave the old man
in such hands?"
She again paced the room in violent emotion. She
reached a side-window,' which looked out upon a short
avenue leading to a large iron gate. The latter opened
on the public road. In the open gate stood Caritas
with her nurse, who was wont to frequent this spot
with her charge, because she was more interested in
watching the occasional passers-by than in the lonely
quiet of the garden. A travelling-carriage was just
passing. It was that of Count Balke, who was returning from his excursion.




A NEW WORLD.              225
Agatha saw how the child recognized him and ran
toward him with noisy glee, how the count leaned out,
lifted the little one into the carriage and placed her upon his knee, while he directed the nurse to go through
the garden to the main portal and receive- the child
there. It seemed to her as if she could hear Caritas's
clear voice shouting joyfully.
She fell into a deep, mournful reverie. " Perhaps,"
she said to herself, "perhaps, I ought not to have said'No,' after all. He would have been a wise, kind
father for my child, and a guide' and protector through
life for me. But it is too late now."
None but a soul so pure and guileless as hers, a
woman so entirely free from every trace of coquetry,
could think that it was " too late." The experienced
wooer knew better. When they met again, his eye
was so often turned in affectionate sympathy upon her
pale face, that she could hardly be unprepared when,
already on the following day, he took advantage of
her softer mood to renew his proposals. Agatha did
not say " No," but asked for a few days to consider
the matter. The impatient lover made his appearence at the pavilion the next morning, asked for the
third time, and was accepted. When he clasped her
in his arms in rapture, she said, with tears, while lean,
ing on his breast, "Dear friend, bemy guide,, my
protector, my master, be a kind father to my orphan
child! I will be a faithful, loving, obedient wife to
you!"
Thus Agatha did not conceal from her zealous wooer the motives which prompted her acceptance, and
was conscious of acting with perfect honesty. The




226              FIFTEEN YEARS.
count, indeed, would have preferred to have.this
charming woman love him as she had loved Moritz,
yet, he was contented as it was; for all his worldly
experience had not robbed him of his faith in female
virtue, and he was well aware that a man of fifty could
no longer lay claim to youth, of which he held an enthusiastic, romantic, heart-absorbing love to be one of the
most precarious privileges, which must necessarily end
in disappointment.
Perhaps,,too, he was consoled by the consciousness
that his own motives in suing for the hand of the fair
widow had not been the purest in the world. His
chief wish, indeed, had been to secure in her a beautiful, affectionate, and perfectly virtuous wife for his
declining years; but it was known in the whole surrounding country that the daughter of Count Prom-nitz and Countess Reuss was a rich heiress. Count
Balke had diminished his income considerably by his
travels, extravagant purchases of works of art, and a
bachelor-life in Paris, spiced with pleasures of every
kind. A rich marriage, therefore, seemed to him most
advisable. In France this was a ticklish matter. Although he had become a thorough Frenchman, as far
as culture and general opinions were concerned, he had
yet remained a perfect Swede on one point. He required purity and strict morality in his wife. Nor
was he wanting in the sense of what he owed'to such
a one, if she was of noble birth. He therefore discarded, before leaving Paris, the young actress whom
he had hitherto kept as his mistress-more because
such was the fashion, than because he was attached to
her-and succeeded in placing her -advantageously




A NiEW WORLD.              227
under the protection of a friend without being obliged
to make any great pecuniary sacrifice. On his journey to Germany, which he was obliged to undertake
on account of the sale of his Silesian property, he had
intended to look about him for a wife, and had now
reached his end with an unexpectedly favorable result.
Agatha's money matters were speedily arranged
with her parents by the count.  To him Aurora
granted unresistingly what had been denied her stepdaughter; for she was aware that he would know
how to obtain it by force, and, moreover, she now had
the entire control of the old gentleman, whose mental
faculties were diminishing more and more.
-Since her step-mother's horrible attack, Agatha had
placed herself in a perfectly distant, dignified relation
to her, and had never remained alone with her a moment. But it was with the deepest pity that she
thought of her poor father, and endeavored, by filial
caresses, to reawaken his former tenderness for her.
On one occasion-it was three days before her wedding-she went to his private room, with the intention
of having an hour's chat with him. On opening the
door softly, so as not to wake him in case he should
be asleep, she saw her step-mother standing by the
table, on which lay spread out several letters which a
messenger had just brought from the post-office of the
neighboring town to the castle. Countess Aurora
stood with her back to the door, but the mirror opposite her showed Agatha her face scarlet and angry, and
her eyes fixed uppn a letter which she held in her
hand.
At the slight noise occasioned by Agatha's en



228             FIFTEEN YEARS.
trance, she turned round hastily and crushed the letter in her clinched hand; then, with an equally hasty
movement, she snatched up an envelope whichlay before her on the table, and tore it into a thousand pieces.
"Is my father here? " asked Agatha, softly.
"He is still asleep," answered the countess, in the
same tone, without looking at her.
Agatha went to the table, and looked at the letters,
to see if there was one for her among them. Then
she left the room as softly as she had entered, without
bestowing much thought on her step-mother's violent
agitation, for she was used to such paroxysms in her.
It was only many, many years later that she had cause
to remember this scene, as well as another circumstance, which was only too closely connected with it,
although, at the time, she could have no suspicion of
this fact.
That same afternoon, Countess Aurora drove to
town, to call for a gold chain which the count intended
as a wedding-present for his daughter, because the
jeweller, who had promised to send it that morning,
had not kept his word. It was in vain that the count
tried to dissuade her from going, as there were yet
two or three days before the wedding. He could not
keep her back. She was hardly gone,.when the chain
arrived. But the countess did not returnuntil late in
the evening.
Agatha left Wildeneck with a heavy heart. All
the memories of her youth were associated with it.
It had been the scene of her brief happiness, it was the
last resting-place of her beloved mother,. and, alas! the
desecrated home of her poor old father. But she never




A NEW WORLD.               229
for a moment had cause to repent of the step she
had taken. Her husband treated her with the utmost
affection and esteem, and was the kindest of fathers
to her child. In her close companionship with him,
her mind developed, as in that with Moritz, with marvellous rapidity, only in a different way. He travelled
with his young wife in Switzerland and Italy, before
settling down with her in Paris, and under his guidance
these travels became a real school of culture for her.
She grew daily more attached to her husband, and it
was her earnest endeavor to conform to his wishes in
everything, and subject her will to his own. Only
her mode of viewing things differed more and more
widely from his the more she developed inwardly, for
a firm moral principle lay at the foundation of all her
opinions and judgments, while his thoughts and actions
were based upon a subtle selfishness.
But the count, as he became more intimately acquainted with his wife, and learned to esteem her more
highly, made no attempt to alter her mode of thinking.
On the contrary, he carefully guarded her, in the frivolous society of Paris, from every thing that could offend her, and took pains to introduce her only into such
circles as upheld, if not the strictest morals, yet at
least a perfectly moral outward decorum.  Agatha
breathed more freely, and rejoiced in being no longer
at Wildeneck. But, when her husband revealed to her
more and more of Aurora's past, she thanked God
that he had withdrawn her in time from the poisonous
influence of this terrible woman.
The count confessed, laughingly, that the beauty
of this arrant coquette had at one time drawn him into




230             FIFTEEN YEARS.
her net; that he had soon, however, discovered her
unworthiness, but had been at a loss how to dissolve
the betrothal which had been already solemnized and
made public. A letter accidentally found by him had
fortunately given him ample cause to do so.
Many years ago, when her youth perhaps still entitled her to pity, Countess Aurora had formed a connection, which effected her ruin, with a Frenchman,
a professional gambler, With whom she had become
acquainted in Vienna. A waiting-woman of low character was paid to cover her shame. The young countess, by her intrigues and through the influence of her
parents, had found means to obtain a curacy for a
worthless licentiate who filled the post of school-master
in the neighborhood, and affixed the condition thereto
that he should marry her waiting-maid. In this disreputable family her children were brought up. Even
while they were still small, she found it difficult to
defray the necessary expenses, and at the same time
satisfy the unceasing claims which the paid parents
laid upon her. Added to this, her former lover, whom
she had met from time to time at one or another watering-place, before she joined the pious community,
applied to her, whenever he was unfortunate at play,
for a loan, and rarely without threatening to make
public certain letters in case of a refusal. When,
finally, her oldest son grew up, and had to be put in
the way of supporting himself, she hardly knew what
to do. This was the time of her marriage with Count
Promnitz; and her secret expeditions, her household
economy, and her insatiable thirst for money, were thus
in a measure explained.




A NEW'WORLD.              231
Whether: Count Balke, in lifting for his young wife
the curtain which had concealed from her this foul
picture, also told her of the written promise which he
had given her step-mother as to how he would reward
her cooperation in the accomplishment of his designs
upon Agatha's hand, is to be considered rather doubtful.
-'-Agatha had been married two years, when her
father died. The count was much dismayed, when it
was proved, on the opening of the will, that the weakheaded old man had left to his wife the unlimited use
of his whole property during her lifetime, and to Agatha only a small capital. The expenses of travelling
and of his household had exceeded his income, and he
had not been able to escape debts of considerable
amount, which he had hoped to pay on the death of his
father-in-law, which could not be far distant. Agatha,
indeed, now entered.into full possesion of her mother's
property, but this seemed hardly sufficient, and considerable embarrassment would have been inevitable, if
an expedient had not unexpectedly presented itself.
Count Balke had a distant relative in Sweden,
named Count Kronhelm, who, but a short time before,
rejoiced in the possession of three healthy sons. One
of them, who was married, though childless,'had been
killed a few months- previous in a frivolous duel. A
second had fallen in battle at about the same time in
the-French service.'The third was snatched away by
a typhus fever, and the old father died of a broken
heart, in consequence, after so short an illness that his
distant cousin had not had time to hear of the death
of the youngest son, and the intelligence -of the de



232             FIFTEEN YEARS.
mise of both reached France at the same time. Count
Balke was the next heir, and found himself, quite unexpectedly, possessed of considerable estates; but the
will of his dying relative joined to the inheritance the
condition that the heir should take the name of Kronhelm, so that it might not die out.
The thought of returning to Sweden, which he
was obliged to do, in order to take possession of the
property, was very unpleasant to Count Balke. He
was a royalist by principle. The oligarchy, at that
time reigning in Sweden, he detested from the bottom
of his soul. He despised a king like the dotard Frederick of Hesse, a toy of the alternately ruling parties,
one day subjected to the brutality of the Russian ambassador, and another to the arrogance of the French
envoy.  The manners and customs of Sweden had
long since become foreign to him. The high nobility,
one portion of which was in the pay of England and
Russia, the other in that of France, seemed to him
more corrupted than French society of the same rank,
without compensating for it by the agreeable manners
of the latter. On his last visit to his native land,
these over-powerful magnates had just split into two
factions, both equally mercenary, and his friends had
endeavored in vain to draw him into the conflict.
Since then, one after the other of them had been
forced to lay his' head on the block, while others
among them had risen to high dignities, according as
the Hats or the Caps had' won the victory. The
storms continued; the old puppet-king still sat upon
his tottering throne, and there was no prospect, however distant, of more quiet times.




A NEW WORLD.              233
The count therefore resolved, as his removal was
for the moment absolutely necessary, to make his
stay in the barbaric North as short as possible. His
wife was more willing to go than he. She wished to
give the two little sons which she had borne him a
country of their own. At the beginning of our story
we have shown, however, how the residence in Sweden
of the Kronhelm family, for thus they were called
henceforth, came to be involuntarily prolonged.




CHAPTER XII.
D OMESTIC SCENES.
WE have now led our readers back to the period
at which we left Countess Agatha Kronhelm in a
strangely-excited mood.  It might have been supposed that the political condition of her new country,
and the state of its affairs, so revolting to her moral
feelings, would have laid claim to her unlimited sympathy; and, in fact, the interest which she took in
these subjects, did somewhat crowd into the background her offended maternal sensitiveness; only that
the strangely-mysterious obscurity which surrounded
the tutor, whom, however, she saw but little of, did
not cease to disturb her.
The audacity of the Hats, i. e., the triumphant
partyj seemed to have reached its extreme height.
Their outrageous arrogance had culminated in the
nomination of a committee from the Estates, which
had at the same time legislative and executive power,
placed unlimited authority in the hands of a thoroughly corrupt oligarchy of the nobility, and robbed the
king of the last remaining shreds of his purple, while
it put the people in chains, and punished every protest, nay, even every complaint, as a crime.  For




DOMESTIC SCENES.            235
some years after his return, Count Kronhelm had enendeavored to keep aloof from both parties, but in
course of time had attached himself more to the
Caps, as they, for the moment the less powerful faction, took pains to keep up the royal dignity, at least
to some degree.   He was aware that they were
bought by Russia, as the others by France. His personal sympathy for the latter did not bias his judgment. It seemed to him a so much better policy for
Sweden, to maintain peaceful relations with their
Russian neighbor, than to pay an army with French
money, in order to war against him, that his activity
in this respect bound him to the Caps. He was all
the more indignant, therefore, when he saw the most
corrupt among his own party uniting with the EHats
in attempting to persuade the weak king to join the
opponents of Frederick the Great. He allowed himself to be induced to take part, although with great
caution, in the enterprise of Counts Brahe and Horn,
who were secretly endeavoring to bring about, if not
an entire change in the constitution, yet an amelioration of it.
At this period, weary of oppression, the peasants,
too, rose at length, and Agatha could see distinctly
how Mannsfeld's interest was only now thoroughly
aroused. When, in his conversations with her husband, he defended the rights of the people with generous warmth, and the count refuted his "Rousseauian
views," as he called them, by monarchic-aristocratic
principles, she would listen attentively, and a voice
within her said: "Just so my Moritz would have
thought,-just so he would have spoken."




236              FIFTEEN YEAES.
The disturbances among the peasants were soon
suppressed, and the leaders thrown into prison, wheneverthey. could not escape by flight. But it soon became obvious that the feelings of the whole nation
were in revolt. With the commencement of the new
year, men of all conditions of society were arrestedofficers, clergymen, government officials, and, after a
brief trial, some of them were sentenced to ignominious corporeal punishment, others cruelly-executed.
Agatha was beside herself. She longed more and
more fervently to exchange the vicinity of the bloody
scene of action for her rural solitude. Already, in
May, when the deep snow still lay in the streets of
Stockholm, she left, town with her children and their
tutor for her country residence, where she would at
least escape the daily intelligence of new acts of despotism. The boys were delighted. The count himself persuaded his wife to leave town so early, and his
connection with the leaders of the suspicious movements was so secret and so loose, that she could part
from him without actual anxiety. Her husband
wished at first that she should go to RSdkrita, one of
the large family estates of the Kronhelms, which, situated in the interior, offered great attractions for a
summer residence.  But she could not make up her
mind to go so far away from him. She had no cause
to be concerned about his safety. And yet it suddenly seemed to. her as if she were wronging him, by
leaving him alone under such uncertain circumstances.
She burst into tears, as she bade him farewell, without herself being able to explain the feeling of anxiety
which overcame her.   She observed that Mannsfeld




DOMESTIC SCENES.            237
too seemed to be in a state of subdued excitement,
and to.leave town reluctantly.
In the lonely domestic life which the family led in
their not very roomy country-house, as long as the
season kept them mostly in-doors, he could not, indeed, withdraw so decidedly from her society as had
been the case in town. Without any plan whatever,
even without any fixed intention, Agatha employed
all her amiability for the purpose of conquering the
peculiarly reserved mood of this singular misanthrope.
The children's- devotion to him seemed to increase
daily. The tact with which he contrived to combine
his condescension to them with the proper degree of
strictness was worthy of all admiration.
Caritas, in particular, attached herself with unconcealed enthusiasm to her tutor. Her mind had already
developed considerably under his guidance. -She read
much, and with deep interest, but every book was laid
aside immediately when Mannsfeld entered the room.
His opinions, his views, even in the common things
of every-day life, had become her own, without her
knowing it. She had always had a preference for red;
but since she had heard Mannsfeld say, on one occasion, that he liked blue better, she too inclined toward
that color, without, however, being: influenced by the
least trace of girlish coquetry; for it was Eric whom
she persuaded to adorn his hat with a blue ribbon, instead of the red one, which he had previously chosen
on her advice.
Her mother had often tried to cure her of a bad
habit of stepping too heavily in walking. A few disapproving remarks of Mannsfeld's on her stamping




238             FIFTEEN YEARS.
tread, which was unbecoming in a woman, sufficed to
make her take pains to step more lightly. As is often
the case with girls of her age, she was not fond of
walking, and very apt to avoid all physical exertion,
but now she joined of her own accord in the rambles
which Mannsfeld undertook with the vigorous boys,
and declared that nothing did her more good than
bodily exercise.
From the beginning, she had taken part in the
boys' Latin lessons, but had naturally so soon outstripped her brothers, that her tutor was forced to instruct her separately in this branch as in all others.
He also taught her English, and introduced her into
the outer court of German literature, which was just
then beginning to open slowly. The first and most
beautiful cantos of Klopstock's'"Messiah" had for
some years past encouraged the- Germans to hope that
the heights of Parnassus were accessible to them also.
Mannsfeld read portions of the poem to his impressible
pupil. Enraptured, she went to her mother, and toldher that she was now to become acquainted with the
beautiful poem of which she had told her the same
evening on which her dear tutor had arrived. Agatha
expressed a wish to take part in the readings, and an
evening hour, when the boys would be in bed, was appointed.
This hour became a precious one for both mother
and daughter. While the young girl gave expression
to her feelings in rapturous words, Agatha sat silent,
struggling with her tears. The poem itself breathed
the pious spirit with which she was familiar; but
aside from this, Mannsfeld's manner of reading: re



DOMESTIC SCENES.            239
called to her with magic power her short dream of
happiness. Mannsfeld's voice was deeper and fuller
than that of her beloved dead; but nevertheless its
tone summoned up the latter almost forcibly from the
obscurity of the fifteen years that had passed since she
had heard it. She sat listening, her head resting on
her hand, as she leaned her elbow on the work-table
beside her, her eyes filled with heavy tears. Mannsfeld ceased reading. After a while she looked up, and
saw that his eye rested upon her with an expression
of deep, painful feeling, almost as in compassion.
" What a singular man! "she thought. " I believe
this is the first time that he has manifested any interest
in me. I almost think that if I were to be more cordial
toward him, if I tried to win his confidence, his strange
mistrust would disappear, and he would acknowledge
more gratefully that he has a true friend in me."
But she soon had occasion to convince herself
that all her complaisant kindness was of no avail.
She took several opportunities of asking him, with interest, about his experiences, the place of his birth,
his- relatives, the strange fate: which had led him to
the East, and into the Persian army. But she received
nothing but short, respectful answers, and the more
cordial the interest she showed him, the more reserved
and inaccessible he became.
Thus it was not unnatural that Agatha's sympathy
with him became mingled gradually with some degree of bitterness; the more, since she saw plainly that
he appeared entirely different when with Caritas; that
he responded to the young girl's enthusiastic attachment for him by a certain respectful cordiality,:and




240              FIFTEEN YEAS.
that the relation between the two became closer and
closer.
The daughter's position with regard to her mother
was hardly affected thereby. Nevertheless, a sort of
jealousy began to find room in Agatha's heart. "He
shall at least not rob me of my child," she said to herself, with irritated sensitiveness, while conscious, at
the same time, that she was wronging him. "But no,
it is I myself who am keeping the dear girl at a distance from me.. Caritas is, no longer a child. She is
ripe for my confidence."  She had never, until now,
told her more than the mere outline of the story of
her first marriage and her heart-rending loss. One
evening she summoned the girl to her room, for a confidential conversation.
She took from her cabinet a little box, in which, on
the day before her second marriage, she had placed,
with scalding tears,; Moritz's last dear letter, and all
the little gifts which she had received from him during their brief companionship. A small locket alone,
containing a lock of hair which she had once cut from
his head in jest, before the hair-dresser had freshly
powdered it and tied the inevitable cue, she had kept
out, and wore it constantly hanging by a small black
cord hidden in her bosom. She gave Carry the letter
to read, and, showing her all those dear mementos,
took occasion from them to communicate to her the
closer details of the sad history of her:life.
The young girl was deeply, strongly moved. To
her enthusiastic mind her revered mother seemed truly
sublime in her heroic expedition, and all the dangers
to which, when hardly nineteen, she had voluntarily




DOMESTIC SCENES.           241
exposed herself. " How she must have loved my father!" she thought; "and what happiness there must
be in thus loving!"
She hardly slept that night, shed many tears, and
her fancy was excited in the highest degree.  The
following day was that of her lesson in geography.
Caritas came into the school-room with eyes thickly
swollen with weeping. Mannsfeld's glance repeatedly
rested upon her with sympathy while he gave the boys
their lesson. When it was ended, he sent them into
the next room to prepare another task, while he occupied himself with Caritas.
He opened the atlas at the map of Africa. " Well,
Miss Carry," he said, encouragingly, "what have you
to tell me about the Ashantees, of whom I spoke to
you in our last lesson?"
Carry came nearer.  "Oh, dear Mr. Mannsfeld,"
she said, "I was about to ask you to let me take up
Asia again to-day —a part of Asia, I mean."
"Why do you wish that? We have gone through
Asia pretty thoroughly. What part is it that you
would like to know more about?"
"Russia in Asia," replied the young girl, timidly.
"About Siberia."
"Why more about that desolate land?   I have
told you nearly all there is to be said with regard to
it."
"I should like to know more about it."
There was a pause. At length the tutor asked:
"What has awakened your interest in     Siberia,
Carry?"
"I love Siberia," she. answered, adding, as he




242             FIFTEEN YEARS.
looked at her keenly, while she burst into tears, "my
father is buried there."
She covered her eyes with her hand. A long
pause ensued. Finally, Mannsfeld said: "You told
me your father had been killed in the war against
Sweden."
" So I thought, so I had been told. He had gone
to Russia to serve in the Russian army against Sweden. But, instead of that, he was sent by the despotic
government to Siberia, and died there of grief."
She hid her face in her hands, sobbing. Mannsfeld sat opposite her in silence. At length he asked:
" How do you know that he died there?"
" Because my darling mother saw his grave, herself; because she could not rest, after all inquiries
about him had proved useless, until, young and delicate as she was, she had gone to Russia, all alone,
with no companion but good old Kerkow, a faithful
family servant, whom I have known, too. Such a
good man as he was! How often he has carried me
in his arms, and how he loved me, and did every thing
he could to please me!"
"And your mother?" asked Mannsfeld, in a hard —
ly-audible voice.
"My mother was in a dreadful situation in that
strange, wild world. She was only a few years older
than I, and I am sure far more inexperienced, for you
see, dear Mr. Mannsfeld," she added, sagely, "I have
always lived in great cities, but my mother grew up
in the country, and at my grandfather Promnitz's they
did nothing but pray all day long."
"Your mother's prayers had been effectual, Car



DOMESTIC SCENES.            243
ry," replied Mannsfeld, severely. "You say she went
to St. Petersburg herself?"
"She did so, my darling mother, when I was six
months old, and she could leave me in my good grandmother's care. She went down on her knees before
the empress, the same one who is now ruling so terribly, and leaves every thing to her favorites. But
toward my mother she was very kind. It was only
then that poor mamma found out what had become of
my father. He, with the other officers attached to
Duke Anton, had been cruelly arrested, and one sent
here, another there,'into misery,' as it-is very appropriately called. My father was sent to a desolate
place called Berezov."
She looked for the place on the map of Siberia, but
in vain. The old map merely showed the vast, empty
land intersected by a few lines, which partly repre-,
sented rivers, and aside from these the boundless void
was interrupted only by the names of a number of
barbarous tribes.
"The empress," Caritas at length continued, after
both had long sat wrapped in deep, mournful silence,
"gave my mother a pardon for my unfortunate father.
It is outrageous! Pardon! As if he had ever committed a crime against her! But my mother gratefully accepted. the pity of this powerful sovereign.
Only think, Mr. Mannsfeld, she called my mother
thou, a lady who was already a mother herself! But,
I hear, the Russian czars all call their subjects thou.
The empress seemed really to pity my mother deeply
i1 her way, and would not at first consent to her delivering the pardon herself. But mamma insisted




244              FIFTEEN YEARS.
upon it, and went to Siberia, in the midst of winter,
through snow and storms, with old Kerkow.   The
journey lasted two or three weeks, and, when she finally reached Berezov, her beloved husband was no longer there-he had died three weeks before!"
Her sobs interrupted her. She wept long, her
arms resting on her knees, her face hidden in her
hands. When she at last looked up, Mannsfeld had
left the room.
In a short time he returned, calm and collected as
ever, but, as it seemed to her, with a milder expre'ssion in his face than she had ever observed in him before. He passed his hand gently over her hair, and
said, in a tone of sympathy:
"Poor child!"
"Oh!" she cried, "if you only knew how much
good your sympathy does me! Pray do not think me
indiscreet, but I felt as if I must pour out my heart to
some one. It seemed ready to burst, and I could not
trouble my poor mother with my sorrow when she has
so much of her own. Oh, dear Mr. Mannsfeld, you
have no idea how dearly I love my mother!"
"Your mother is a saint, Carry. But you see that
she bears with calmness and resignation the burden
that God has laid upon her."
"That is true," replied Carry, "because she is so
pious. But I believe she feels the more deeply, the
more quiet she is.'And just let me tell you what
further experiences she had. Out there in the wilderness, old Kerkow fell sick, and she had to stay
there all winter, until in the spring she could returnby way of Moscow, this time, for she did not wish to




DOMESTIC SCENES.            245
see St. Petersburg again-to her parents and her child.
And there she lived for years, only for me and for her
deep grief."
"Time," said Mannsfeld, "exercised its healing
power on her. And that is as it should be. How
could we bear the weight of life, if we were unable to
forget the past? To your mother, too, time brought
consolation. Her grief for the husband whom she
had known but a few months, improved her, and madeher more beautiful than she had probably ever been.
She found a new happiness, a new husband, and gave
you a new, kind father, Carry. And, once more, she
did right."
Caritas was silent a-while. Then she said: "Ah,
dear Mr. Mannsfeld, I don't think you judge her quite
correctly there. I I hardly think my mother ever
would have married again if she could have devoted
herself to me, and nourished her grief undisturbedly
in her father's house, but her mother was a horrible
woman, and treated her shockingly."
"What do you mean, Caritas? You have been
misinformed. Her mother —"
" Yes, her own mother, she was an angel of goodness. I was hardly three years old when she died,
but I can still see her in my mind, as she used to welcome me from her sick-bed, with such a heavenly
smile, when mamma took me to her in the morning,
and made me kiss her hand, and say,'Bon jour,
ma chrre grand-maman.' Mamma has told me since
what a martydom she had to go through before she
died, and how she was.mourned for by the whole
province, and particularly by the poor. But my good




246             FIFTEEN YEARS.
old grandfather was a very weak man. He was
caught by a horrible old coquette, and married her
when my grandmother had been dead only a very
short time. Oh! you can have no idea how my
mother used to be treated by her wicked step-mother.
They restricted her in every way, and cheated her out
of her money. Of course, poor mamma did not tell me
any thing about it, but I could see very well that she
always made her cry, and then, too, I knew it from
what my nurse said; she was always in mortal dread
when she met the old countess, and often, when she
was talking with the other servants, I would hear
them pitying their young lady, and wishing their former mistress back again. And just then, you see,
my step-father came into the neighborhood and visited
us, and offered himself to my mother. She wouldn't
have him at first. My nurse told me so later. I think
she had been listening, and felt quite sorry that my
mother refused him, for she thought it would be the
best thing for her dear mistress to get away from
there. But one day, when my wicked grandmother
had abused her terribly, and even wanted to drive her.from her quiet quarters in the pavilion-I remember
the scene as distinctly as if it had happened yesterday
-my step-father renewed his proposal, and my mother
accepted him. I still think she did it chiefly to give
me a father."
Caritas paused a while after this long speech, lost
in thought, and without looking at Aannsfeld. Then
she continued:
"And he has been a kind, careful father to me,
whom I will gladly obey in all things. He has been a




DOMESTIC SCENES.            247
loving husband to my mother, too. And I am sure she
loves him dearly-only, it seems to me," thoughtfully
added the young girl, who, only four weeks ago, had
celebrated her sixteenth birthday, " such a love as she
felt for my own father, a love which absorbs the whole
heart, and makes us happier and better, and brings us
nearer to God, such a love she has never felt for my
step-father."
An unconscious feeling of shame came over the
young creature. During her whole discourse she had
hardly looked at Mannsfeld, and during the last few
words her eyes were downcast. Now she looked up at
him somewhat timidly.
" What ails you, my dear tutor?" she exclaimed,
in alarm. " You are as pale as a corpse!- You are ill.
Shall I get you some water?"
She started to leave the room, but he detained her.
"It is nothing, dear child," he said. "A sudden dizziness came over me; it is almost past. You know I
am a miserable ruin. Tell your brothers that a slight
indisposition forces me to omit their other lessons. I
hope the air will do me good."
He walked with huge strides out into the garden,
and into the woods. An hour later a peasant whom
he had met brought a message to the servant who
waited at table, to the effect that he should present
his excuses to the countess, if he did not return to
dinner.  Caritas was quiet and thoughtful.  Her
mother had not enjoined silence upon her, but she did
not know whether she would approve of her having
confided the family secrets to a stranger. She did not
therefore allude to the matter, as her mother asked




248              FIFTEEN YEARS.
her no questions. Mother and daughter were silent
and oppressed. Neither of them mentioned Mannsfeld
again, after Carry had simply remarked that he had
not been well in the morning.
Agatha had been hardly less excited than her
daughter, by her conversation with the latter the day
before. The veil, which a period of fifteen years had
cast over Moritz's image in her soul, had once more
been lifted more completely than she had allowed herself to do since her second marriage. She was sad and
preoccupied all day. Anxieties of every kind flooded in
upon her, and perplexed her.  Moritz's beloved form,
her husband's letters, which expressed great anxiety;
Mannsfeld's mysterious behavior all these surged to
and fro in her brain, as well as in her heart.
Toward evening she went into the garden to
breathe the fresh air, for, amid all her cares and sorrows, spring had slowly opened. She saw Mannsfeld,
returned from his ramble, entering the back gate of
the garden.
"Do you feel any better?" she asked, and her
mild, gentle voice seemed to fall like a healing balm on
the lacerated heart of the unhappy man; for he responded by a look of gratitude, of veneration, such as
she had never seen from him. His answer was so low
that she could not understand it. It was only by the
motion of his lips that she could perceive that he answered at all. But he passed her so quickly that she
could not repeat her question.
Nevertheless, a certain feeling of melancholy satisfaction came over her. As the daylight faded, she
went up to her quiet room. From a dressing-room ad



DOMESTIC SCENES.             249
joining it a narrow flight of stairs led from a small
tapestry door directly into the garden, which had been
specially constructed for her private use. She was
wont to avail herself of these stairs for her early
morning walks, to lock the door on passing out of it,
and draw the key, and to leave the latter in the lock
only on the inside.
She sat for a long while, lost in the twilight of distant memories. By degrees she became so calm and
resigned, that she finally went to the piano, and, by a
movement which she could not resist, struck a few
chords. Agatha had not had much musical culture.
She had hardly ever sung any thing but a hymn. But
she-had a fine ear for music, and a sweet, melodious
voice. She sung:
"The day expires;
My soul desires 
And longs to see the day,
When whate'er has vexed her here
Shall be done away."
Suddenly a full, deep, powerful voice sent up the
response from the garden.
"The night is here;
Oh be thou near I
Christ, make it light within;
Drive away from out my heart
All the night of sin I"
The countess started up in alarm, but, driven on
by an involuntary impulse, hardly knowing what she
did, she sung on:




250               FIFTEEN YEARS.' The sun's last ray
Has passed away;
0 uncreated sun 1
Let thy light now shine on me,
Then my joy were won."
She listened. And again, slowly and solemnly,
the voice responded:
"The stars on high
In azure sky
Their Maker's glory gleam;
Blest he who in yonder world
Like the stars shall beam " P*
She was terrified. Was this magic-? This hymn,
this same hymn, she had sung with Moritz. "It is his
spirit," she whispered, trembling in every limb. She
hastened to the window. The garden was buried in
deep obscurity. Stars were gleaming in the dark-blue
sky, but they threw no light upon the earth. She collected herself with difficulty. "I must be half-insane," she said, putting her hand to her head. "It
is Mannsfeld, who happens to know that hymn, as
thousands of Germans know it. Moritz's voice was
full of tenderness, a sweet yet powerful tenor; this is a
deep, full voice, melancholy, thrilling, mysterious, like
every thing else in poor Mannsfeld. Strange that I have
never heard him sing before! But itris only the happy
who sing to themselves. I will ask him to-morrow if
it was he'who sung. And who else should it be? Perhaps we might have some musical practice together."
When, however, the countess met the tutor again
the next day at dinner, she had not the courage to ask
* Altered from the Lyra Germanica.




DOMESTIC SCENES.            251
him the intended question. She could not herself tell
why. "It might embarrass him," she thought, "as
he is so over-respectful and over-reserved. He might
feel as if he had taken too great a liberty. I will
wait till some occasion offers."
No occasion presented itself; yet the intercourse
between the two had evidently become easier and
more agreeable of late, since Mannsfeld had dropped
some of his repellent reserve, and his whole manner
bore a milder stamp. This was in great part the result of a short visit from the count, which seemed to
draw parents, children, and tutor, nearer to each other.
The count had for the moment formed some faint
hopes of a better state of things, without, however,
mentioning the ground on which they were based.
The few days which he spent in the bosom of his family afforded him much relaxation. The weather was
fine, and remained so during his stay. Long walks to
the sea-shore or into the woods were undertaken, in
which Agatha took part. The boys shouted, skipped,
climbed about, and picked flowers and branches in honor of their darling mother's presence. The impetuous
caresses of the sturdy little fellows, the mild influence
of the soft air, made the beautiful, loving mother appear doubly beautiful, animated by tenfold love.
There is a magic power in the mild, insinuating
air of the brief northern spring; a peculiar charm,
too, which can be only felt, not described, in the stern,
strongly-marked scenery of the North; it speaks to
the: soul, as that of the South speaks to the senses,
powerfully, irresistibly.
MLannsfeld was gentle and kind; only a certain




25-2             FIFTEEN YEARS.
suppressed emotion might have given any one who
had observed him cause to fear that a momentary
calm was preceding the outbreak of a fearful storm
within him. Agatha saw only his more cheerful
mood, and rejoiced in it, without asking herself why
this was the case.
But a new cause for anxiety was soon to cloud
also these cheerful hours. Caritas's strangely-excited
manner began to trouble her mother's mind. It was
not toward the latter alone that she from time to time
manifested her feelings by impetuous caresses. Her
attachment to her tutor had acquired by degrees something overstrained and strangely passionate, that impressed Agatha very unpleasantly. She would grow
restless, whenever he was absent some time; if he
stayed away longer than usual, she would not express
her regret in words, but would grow, absent-minded,
would start almost imperceptibly at the slightest noise,
would blush when he made his appearance. The
slightest attention which he paid her she received with
a certain enthusiasm, without, in her girlish innocence,
making an attempt to conceal her gratitude..A leaf
which he had picked, for the purpose of showing her
its wonderful structure, she put away carefully in a little pocket-book; the place which he chose for resting
during their walks was always the prettiest to her,
and she was ingenious in pointing out its charms, its
advantages, if her mother or the boys preferred another. Her whole manner showed, with childish frankness, and yet veiled by a certain maidenly reserve,
that a magnetic power drew her toward her tutor.
"What does this mean? " Agatha asked herself,




DOMESTIC SCENES.            253
greatly disturbed. "Can a feeling of love have already-sprung up in this child's heart? and for a man
of his age, and so unattractive? And he-no, he can
have no suspicion of it! and yet-then he must go
away, must leave her!-Good God! would I drive the
unfortunate man out into the cruel, desolate world
again, when he has at last found a haven of rest here
after his fearfully stormy life?" She could have
hated herself for the thought.
"She is but a child," she thought. "I will speak
to her. And yet-would I not make matters worse
by enlightening her as to her feelings? She is evidently not conscious of them yet. She would not show
them  so openly. But he! Does he not recognize
them? What man could deceive himself in such a
matter?"
Her cheeks glowed at the thought-" No!" she
said, "he is not dishonorable. Perhaps the unhappy
man cannot resist the sweet feeling of being loved, of
being loved by one human being in the world. Perhaps he loves her himself-" A convulsive pain went
through her heart-" I must separate them."
She tried to consider, without being well able to
collect her thoughts, whether there was no one among
her friends, no family of their acquaintance, to whom
she could confide Carry, under some pretext, for a season. But she could think of no one.
"It may not be so bad, after all," she thought
again. "Carry is a child, and he is a man nearer fifty
than forty; it would be a psychological problem, if
two hearts which Nature has put. so far asunder,
should come together. However-he is certainly not




254             FIFTEEN YEARS.
handsome; but who cares for beauty in a man?-and
he has a noble, powerful form, and his mind makes him
more interesting than if he were an Adonis; and Carry-she has grown much prettier than she ever was
before! When her cheeks are flushed and her eyes
sparkle so-and oh! she has all the fresh charm of
early youth. Ah, no wonder that she is beautiful in
his eyes when love for him shines out from hers!"
The thought was unspeakably painful to her.
"For," she said, "what is to come of it?"  It was
only by a convulsive exertion that she could conquer
the disquietude within her.
My readers would mistake, if they thought that
Agatha had experienced all these thoughts and fears
at once, as they are recorded here. On the contrary,
they occupied her mind more or less for a period of
eight or ten days, during the time of the above-mentioned walks, and it was generally only at night, when
she was alone again, and reflected upon the day just past,
-that she arrived at a full consciousness of these feelings.
One afternoon a thunder-shower was rising, and
hence it had been resolved during dinner to give up
the walk for that day. Some hours later, as the rain
had not yet come down, and the close air of her room
oppressed her, Agatha left the house for a quiet walk
in the garden. She met Mannsfeld. He looked pale
and agitated.
"Where are the children? " she inquired.
"They are playing in the meadow," he replied.
"And Caritas?"
He was silent. Then he said: " I cannot tell mI1dame the countess where Miss Caritas is."




DOMESTIC SCENES.           255
He passed on with a respectful bow.
Agatha did not notice any thing ambiguous in his
answer. She was only pained by the death-like pallor
of his face. She went on to the end of the avenue, to
a large arbor, which frequently afforded the family a
pleasant shelter when the sun was shining. On this
close, cloudy afternoon its gloomy atmosphere was
but little attractive. The countess was passing it,
when she thought she heard a slight movement within. She stopped and looked in. Caritas was leaning
over the table, her face buried in her hands, sobbing
convulsively.
The countess entered the arbor. "Caritas!" she
cried, "my child, what ails you?"
The girl started up; mother and daughter trembled
in every limb. From this arbor Agatha, at a distance, had seen Mannsfeld emerge.
" What is the matter?" the mother asked again.
Carry flung herself upon her neck, weeping violently.
"I don't know what ails me! Don't ask me,
mamma! oh, I am unspeakably unhappy!"
But she did not find the interest in the sympathy
for her unknown grief which she had hoped for.
Agatha saw an open book lying upon the table.
" What is that? " she asked, sternly. "A novel? "
She hastily took up the book, but threw it down
again quite as hastily. It was a Latin school-book,
an innocent Cornelius Nepos.
"What is it?" she continued, in a somewhat gentle voice. "I must know it, my child."
"     Oh, nothing of importance," replied Caritas, who
had grown more composed meanwhile. " Mr. Manns



256             FIFTEEN YEARS.
feld has been telling me a sad story, that touched me
deeply. That is all."
"It is very wrong in Mr. Mannsfeld to excite your
fancy with romantic stories," remarked her mother,
not without bitterness. "I shall speak to him about
it."
"Oh, mamma," cried Caritas, with some vehemence,
"pray do not do so. It was the story of his own life.
The history of a very unhappy man."
She burst into tears anew. " Oh, dearest mamma,"
she repeated, "do not speak to him about it! It
would pain him deeply."
Agatha's eyes, too, overflowed with tears. The
girl laid her head upon her mother's bosom, and, while
she wept out her sorrow there, burning tears dropped
upon her hair. "Try to control yourself, my child,"
Agatha said at length: "endeavor to turn your
thoughts toward God, who lays on no one a heavier
burden than he can bear, and has given strength also to
this strong, noble man to bear his fate, whatever it
may be."
She left the girl, who was now weeping quietly,
and walked slowly back to the house. "What shall I
think of this? " she said to' herself. " To this - child
he gives his-confidence, while he rejects my sympathy,
my friendship. What can he have against me? He,
so proud, so enthusiastic for liberty and equality, is
not the man to be awed by difference in station. And
what can he have against me personally?"




CHAPTER XIII
THE DISCLOSURE.
As Agatha entered the house, a servant handed
her a letter.
"From monsieur the count," he said; "a messenger has just brought it, and I was going to look for
your ladyship in the garden."
Agatha took the letter with her into her quiet
room, before she opened it. It was a sad letter. The
secret conflicts between the two parties, both of whom
shunned no means of undermining each other, continued. But the scale had turned still more in favor
of the Hats, when, as before related, several influential men among the Caps, who were in the pay of
Russia, had united with the Hats, bought by France,
in drawing the Swedish government into the powerful
league formed against the great Frederick. The king,
who had no will of his own, though he was one of the
best-intentioned, most moral men of his kingdom, had
become a mere instrument in the treacherous hands of
the 1Hats. The count felt that he could do no more
for him, even as a friend and counsellor. The Caps
were in a state of fermentation. They had convinced
themselves that a change of the constitution was ab



258             FIFTEEN YEARS.
solutely necessary-a change which would restore the
royal dignity to some degree, and wrest a dangerous
power from the hands of not so much the senate itself,
as a committee of nobles taken from it, who tyrannized the whole nation with Oriental arbitrariness.
Count Kronhelm, with his usual caution, did not
consider the moment an appropriate one for a revolution of the kind. His most intimate friend, Count
Eric Brahe, colonel of the royal guards, was one of
the chief agents in the movement. But Count Kronhelm held back cautiously, and nothing could induce
him to give his name to the enterprise, or to allow a
word in writing to be extorted from him. His letter
to his wife therefore expressed no fears for his person;
merely anxiety and depression on account of the situation of the king and the state of affairs in general.
Agatha read the long letter through in the same
spirit; held it, lost in anxious thought, in her hand a
while, and was just about to lock it up in her writingdesk, when the thought struck her: "Was there not
something written on the margin? Have I not overlooked a postscript?"
She opened the letter and read:
"In addition to all my other troubles and vexations, I have received the unpleasant intelligence that
Mannsfeld wishes, to leave. He assigns no reason, further than that'imperative circumstances' make it necessary for him to return to England. What can be
the matter with the strange man? lHe has probably
told you his motives. Speak to him. Try to induce
him to stay. He is very inaccessible, however. Did I
not tell you so? A true Rousseau!"




THE DI8CLOSUEE.             259
Agatha stood motionless. "Going away?    And
without thinking it worth while to inform me-in
whose house he lives, whose children he is instructing
-of his-intentions? Has he so little esteem for me? "
An unspeakable bitterness took possession of her.
"And I am to speak to him? question him? I will do
so. I will ask him to-morrow, coldly, briefly, as alone
he can expect me to do, if he thinks me worthy of so
little esteem. Caritas probably knows all about it.
That was what made the child so unhappy! and why
should it be kept a secret from.me? I must speak to
him! I will do so this very evening."
Toward evening the thunder-storm at length broke
out. Torrents of, rain fell from the sky and refreshed
the air and the soil. Carry came to supper with the
boys, and said: "Mamma, Mr. Mannsfeld has necessary
letters to write; I am to send him up some supper.
Would you let me read you a canto of'The Messiah'
to-night? I can't do it as well as he, but you know you
want me to practise."
Agatha gladly accepted the proposal. It was a
relief to her that she was not obliged to speak to him
to-night. She told the children that papa had written
to her, and sent his love to them all. Then she summoned all her courage, and told them that Mr. Mannsfeld was going to leave them.
She addressed herself to the boys, while Carry sat
silent, with downcast eyes. Axel began to cry, while
Eric broke out into expressions of vexation.  Both
were ready to run to his room, and, with the bold, selfconfidence of vigorous childhood, entreat him to stay.
Kept back with some difficulty by their mother, they




260             FIFTEEN YEARS.
consoled themselves with the hope that he would not
go immediately, and soon were thinking of other
things.
To Carry, Agatha said not a word of the matter.
The evening was a dreary one. The young reader
made a thousand errors in rhythm and expression, without eliciting a single reproof from her absent-minded
listener.
Early the next morning the countess, who had
grown more composed overnight, went to the schoolroom, where, as she knew, Mannsfeld was already
awaiting the boys. It seemed to her as if a tremor
went through his strong frame as she entered.
She approached him- with a constrained manner.
"I received a letter from my husband yesterday,"
she said, quietly, though her gentle voice trembled
slightly, "from which I learn with surprise that you
wish to leave us. May I ask your reasons for this,
Mr. Mannsfeld? "
He was silent, while the eyes of both were turned
upon the ground.
"Various circumstances make it necessary for me
to leave Sweden," he said, at length.
"And why did you not consider it worth your
while to communicate this to me, the mistress of the
house, and the mother of your pupils, when you informed my husband of it? " asked Agatha, the bitterness which his curt answer had again roused within
her betraying itself in her voice as well as in her
words.
He remained silent still longer than before. She
could see that he breathed heavily and controlled




THE DISCLOSURE.            261
himself with difficulty. Afeeling of deep, unutterable
pity took possession of her heart.
"I communicated my intentions to monsieur the
count, as he alone had the means at hand, in town, to
secure another tutor for his children. I had not the
courage to speak of it here-for I find the parting
very hard."
"But Carry knew about it," said Agatha, in an
unconscious tone of reproach.
"It seemed necessary to prepare Carry, with her
warm heart, her passionate feelings, for a separation
which would otherwise have been much harder for
her to bear."
"And do you not believe- that I too-that I am
not also your friend?. That I-do not also feel-a
friendly interest in you, and shall miss-the tutor of
my children?'
He looked at her with deep expression. The look
was totally incomprehensible to her, but her cheeks
glowed beneath it, and with the dim consciousness
within her.
Just then the boys, who had been playing in the
garden longer than they had intended, rushed into the
room. Axel was delighted at unexpectedly finding
his mother there, and immediately overwhelmed her
with boyishly-rough caresses; while Eric,:with tears in
his. eyes, began to reproach his dear tutor for wishing
to leave them. Axel soon joined him, and Agatha
noiselessly left the room.
After dinner the boys were importunate in their
entreaties for another walk through the garden into
the woods, since the trees were looking so fresh and




262              FIFTEEN YEARS.
lovely after the rain, and the flowers blooming more
beautifully than ever; their mother, who had been in
her room all the morning, must come out and enjoy
it all with them. During dinner the fact had come to
light that Mannsfeld would not leave till the end of
the week. An English vessel was lying at Gothenburg, of which he intended to avail himself. Thus
the boys were already half-consoled, for happy childhood lives in the present moment. Agatha promised
to accompany them. Carry was unlike herself. She
was silent, grave, and very, very sad.
Somewhat later, another thunder-storm came up,
and made the walk impossible. The delicious, refreshing air of the long, light summer evening, drew the
whole family into the garden again, which was wondrously beautiful. The foliage, refreshed by the rain,
shone with magic brilliancy in the light of the setting
sun. On the young, just-expanding roses, a few drops
still glistened, like tears on youthful cheeks. The
party went admiringly from tree to tree, from flower
to flower.
The children would have picked a nosegay for
their mother, but she restrained them.  "Let the
flowers enjoy their short, freshened life in their native
air, children," she said, smiling. Just then, her eye
fell upon a tall, more distant rose-tree, beside which
Mannsfeld was standing, with lacerated, almost bursting heart, lost in the contemplation of her marvellous
beauty, as she looked down upon the merry boys hovering around her, with a charming expression of maternal love. At the very top of the rose-tree hung
a little rose, only just opened, and glistening with




THE DISCLOSURE.            263
moisture, which a gust of wind had half broken from
its stem.
"See," said Agatha, approaching.  "This poor
little thing has already received its death-blow. But
you cannot reach it."
Mannsfeld's eye had followed hers. He raised his
arm, plucked the rose, and a movement of his hand
seemed to indicate that he was about to give it to her.
At that moment, Caritas, who had stopped by another
flower-bed, came running up. "Oh," she cried, with
childish delight, "what a lovely rose!" Mannsfeld
turned quickly. He advanced a few steps to meet
her, and, with a melancholy smile, gave the rose to
the young girl.
But Caritas cried: "Oh no, mamma must have the
first rose." She stepped up to her mother, and was
about to attach the rose to the straw hat which she
carried in her hand. But Agatha cried, indignantly:
"What are you doing, Caritas?-Roses are fit for
youth alone. They are no longer suited to my age! "
So saying, she snatched the hat from her daughter's
hand, and the rose from the hat, in such unnatural
haste that the latter fell to the ground, its leaves
scattered by such impetuous treatment.
Caritas looked up in alarm. Her mother's face
was burning like fire. An angry look fell upon her,
such as she had never before seen those loving eyes
send forth.
" What is the matter, dear mamma?" she cried,
anxiously, "are you ill? What have I done? Are
you in pain?"
Agatha stood glowing with shame, trembling in




264             FIFTEEN YEARS,
every limb. Slowly she raised her eyes, slowly, timidly, to Mannsfeld.
Almighty God! what was this look that she met.
Love, rapture, triumph, shone from the gaze of this
mysterious man, which rested upon her with magic
power. A feeling of terror seized her.': Let me be, dear child," she said, while the glow
in her cheeks gave way to a deadly pallor-" I am indeed not well. I see that the evening air does not
agree with me. I will go in; I shall feel better in the
house."
Caritas would have gone with her; but, with an
urgent, beseeching voice, ~he entreated: "Child, I beg
of you, I conjure you, leave me alone, leave me in
peace!"
And, warding off almost forcibly the boys who had
hastened to her, she went toward the house with rapid
steps, holding herself up with convulsive exertion,
passed through the back door up the private stairs,
through the dressing-room, to her parlor. Here she
hastily locked the door, and bolted it, hardly knowing
what she did, as if she wished to hide herself from all
the world, now that she could no longer do so from
herself; for she had cast the first terrified glance
into herself, into the innermost depths of her own
heart.
She sank down by the sofa upon her shaking knees,
now hiding her face, glowing with deep shame, in her
hands, then again she lifted them trembling to heaven, wringing them and entreating mercy.
" Good God! " she whispered, " what a look was
that! and how fearfully low have I fallen, that such a




THE DISCLOSURE.            265
gaze should fill me with rapture! I, wife and mother,
and-oh shame! jealous of my own daughter!-and
he knows it, he saw it all; there was a blissful triumph in that look! Oh that I could hate him!-Unhappy man, why, should I hate him? Has he not
controlled himself until the last moment? has he
not struggled-struggled until I, miserable I myself,
drew nearer and nearer to him? And is he.not going
away?"
She sprang up aghast. " Going!" she cried, " I cannot bear it-what am I saying, wretch that I am! Yes,
he must go! Oh, my mother, thou sainted one, forgive
me for the mere thought of what would be so unworthy of thee, of myself! The thought-yes, but the
feeling-who can resist that?
"Yes, he must go! Go from the-haven ofrest, of
friendship, of love, out into the raging sea of life.
Unhappy man! And can his going raise me up again,
who have sunk to such a depth? Can I ever look my
honored husband, my children, in the face again-I,
who despise myself?-And Caritas? Oh! her shrewd
eyes have looked me through. And her own heart!
Oh, shame! Mother and daughter bound by this
spell!"
Thus the unhappy woman, rent by grief and inward reproaches, spent more than an hour of anguish,
until at length Ingeborg came in from the next room,
where she had been sewing, and urged the gracious
countess to go to bed, hoping that sleep might gradually steal over her and quiet her at last. A moan or
sob had occasionally reached her ear. She supposed
that her mistress's agitation was caused by sad news
12




266             FIFTEEN YEARS.
fiom Stockholm, and had the delicacy not to intrude
upon her sorrow. But she, was beginning to feel anxious at its long continuance.
"You are right, my good Ingeborg," said the
countess. "I will go to bed. But let me have perfect quiet. Let none of the children come in, not even
Caritas. I will try to sleep."
After a night of bitter agony, the countess, quite
contrary to her general custom, would not rise at her
usual hour, although she earnestly assured Ingeborg,
who wished to send a messenger to town after the
doctor, that she was not ill.  "I need nothing but
quiet," she said, decidedly.
As the day advanced, Caritas, in spite of Ingeborg's attempts to restrain her, crept into the room
on tiptoe. Agatha heard her say, " I must see mamma." But she turned her face to the wall, closed her
eyes, and, with violently-beating heart, lay perfectly
still, as if she were asleep.
With a sigh the poor child at length crept away
again; while her mother, painfully moved by the bitterest self-reproaches, and almost despising herself,
burst into scalding tears.
An hour later, she heard Axel crying outside her
door, and at the same time the voice of Ingeborg,
who was endeavoring to restrain and console him.
She could bear it no longer. "Was I possessed by
an evil spirit when I would not see my darling child? "
she asked herself. "Come in, my Axel," she cried;
"let him come in, my good Ingeborg."
Axel rushed into the room and into her arms.
But this time it was not anxiety for his sick mother




THE DISCLOSURE.            267
which drove him to her, but the longing to find consolation with her for a sonrow of his own.
"Oh, mamma," the boy cried, "Mr. Mannsfeld is
going away to-day, after all. And I am so sorry!"
"You are mistaken, my child; his ship is not to
sail for six days; what should he do in Gothenburg
during all that time?"
"Yes, but he found out, last night, that there is a
skipper from Dantzic lying in the little bay of Nyksping, and he is going with him to-day. And Eric
says it is a little bit of a ship. Nothing but a fishingboat. So poor dear Mr. Mannsfeld may be drowned
in the sea if there should be another thunder-storm,
you know, mamma, like the fisherman, Peter Svenson,
who left so many children. You remember, don't you,
how Eric and I went there in the carriage, with Ingeborg, and took some clothes to the poor woman,
and the money that you sent her? Oh, mamma, they
cried so bitterly, and that was just such a little boat! "
While the child rattled on, Agatha, who had been
quite stunned by his first words, had become somewhat
composed.
"Be easy, my child. At this season there is no
danger for the smallest boat when managed by experienced seamen. Go now, darling, I want to rise and
dress myself-I must see him before he goes. He
would not wish to leave the house without bidding me
farewell."
She could hardly stand upon her trembling feet
while she dressed herself hastily, with Ingeborg's assistance.
When the latter had repeatedly expressed her con



268              FIFTEEN YEARS.
cern at her mistress's indisposition, and her hope of
soon seeing her better, she said:
"There is a letter for your ladyship, on the table
in the other room, that was brought from town yesterday. It is a queer-looking letter, with all sorts of
directions and post-marks on it. And the addresses
are all in foreign languages, and struck out, and written again. The letter must have made a long journey,
it looks so dirty; not a bit as if it was meant for such
a noble lady."
Agatha hardly listened. Her thoughts were with
the traveller.  "Where will he go?" she thought.
"To Dantzic? What is it that drives him away?"
A sad, sweet feeling told her that it was from her that
he desired to flee.
But when she entered her sitting-room, her attention was immediately attracted by the large letter
lying on the table, written all over, and covered with
post-marks.  The original address, which had been
crossed out, ran thus:
"To the worshipful body of magistrates in the city
of Glogau, in Silesia; this letter to be dutifully delivered to the right honorable, her ladyship, the gracious Baroness von Hohenhorst, born Countess of
Promnitz.".
The letter had evidently come from Russia, or the
eastern part of Poland, and, as her step-mother no
longer resided in Wildeneck, had been forwarded to
France by the authorities.  The intelligence of her
change of residence had evidently not reached her
former home.   From Paris the letter had been returned, and then sent to different parts of Germany,




THE DISCLOSURE.            269
until it had at length fallen into the hands of her man
of business in Thuringia, who had charge of the property which she had inherited from her mother. Those
of my readers who are familiar with the imperfect
postal communication that existed a hundred years.ago, even in the more civilized countries of Europe,
will not be surprised to learn that it had taken the
letter.nearly three years to accomplish this circuitous
journey.
She opened the envelope, and held in her hand
some coarse, gray sheets of paper, covered with stiff
German writing, old-fashioned, as it had first been
formed in the beginning of the last century. Her eye
sought the signature. Her heart misgave her. She.read:
"Your ladyship's most obedient servant,
"Dr. Christian Brenner."
She turned to the beginning of the letter. With
supernatural courage the wretched woman read onread the terrible letter through to the end. Thus it
ran:
"INOBLE AND MOST GRACIOUS LADY:
"Your ladyship's most humble servant, the subscriber, in being so bold as to address you, does so
with that natural repugnance which any human being
feels who is obliged to: give, another innocent person
pain, and to recall to memory lamentable and miserable recollections. Yet he cannot refrain from the
*consoling hope that an all-kind Providence, to whose
decrees: your ladyship showed herself so submissive
in:the presence of the subscriber, years ago, may al



270             FIFTEEN ~YEARS.
ready have turned all the evil, which sinful men committed, into good, and happily reunited your ladyship
to her highly-revered husband. I thus commence:
"After Ivan Petrovitch Gromoff, who, eleven years
ago, was known to your ladyship as Governor of Berezov, had been ill, for five long months, of a painful, incurable disease, the description of which your most
humble servant will spare your ladyship, he sent for
me three days ago, and confessed to me that his conscience would not suffer him to die, in consequence of
several misdeeds which he had committed, the possible reparation of one of which he desired to place in
my hands. For your ladyship must know that Ivan
Petrovitch had at bottom a kind and tender heart, but
had often been turned from the ways of God by the
fear of man, and his love for strong drink. He then
disclosed to me that when his darling son, Alexander
Ivanovitch, was lying on his death-bed, he had urgently entreated him, nay, even exacted his solemn promise
on the cross of the Redeemer, to liberate his beloved
tutor, i. e., to hold out to him an opportunity of escaping, as soon as he (i. e., the father) could do so without
danger to himself; and that he had gladly made this
vow, for he had felt deeply grateful for the love and devotion with which Baron von Hohenhorst had nursed
the boy through his last illness. Now, it had so happened that there was in Berezov a Greek of high
degree, who, about eight or nine years before, at the
time of the Empress Anna, had been sent into banishment by the tyrant Biron, whom he had in some way
offended, with the instruction that, at the end of ten
years of banishment, he should be taken to the Turk



THE DISCLOSURE.            271
ish border, and sent across the frontier, with the strict
imperial order never to show himself in the Russian
empire again, under penaltyof death. This' unfortu-,
nate man, who had the same tall figure which adorned
your ladyship's noble husband, was just then, when
his time was nearly out, lying sick unto death; ay,
God Almighty had so ordered it that when, at the
intercession of his relatives, the new empress had
shortened the term of his banishment, and the order
had arrived from St. Petersburg to liberate the Greek
prince, the poor man had died on the very same day.
Upon this it seemed to Petrovitch as if God Himself
put it into his heart that this was a merciful sign for
him to fulfil his vow, and liberate the exile Hohenhorst,
as he could make the exchange without injuring himself. H-e had caused the dead man to be dressed in
the clothes of your ladyship's husband, in which matter
it had been a fortunate circumstance that the only
man who had taken care of the sick prince had had
his tongue cut out on having been'sent into misery'
years ago, and thus was unable to speak or ever to
reveal the deception. Your ladyship is aware that
her obedient servant was away at the time. The deception could not otherwise have been practised without my-knowledge. He went on to tell me that this
man had helped him place the body in a coffin, and
had been his only instrument in the matter, and the
dead man had been buried and entered'on the books
as Moritz von Hohenhorst.  Meanwhile he had delivered over to your ladyship's husband such property
and effects as the Greek prince had left, had given
him a passport in the name of Ghika, and sent him,




272              FIFTEEN YEARS.
without delay, to the Caspian Sea, where he had gone
on board a Turkish vessel. But the whole dangerous
enterprise had been nearly frustrated by the obstinacy
-as he disrespectfully expressed it-of your ladyship's
husband, who had refused decidedly to take an oath
that he would neither return to Germany nor inform
his family of his liberation; upon which, he, Ivan Petrovitch, had been forced to insist, as his position as
commandant, and indeed his life, had depended upon
it. For he would doubtless have been called to the
strictest account, if it had become known in St. Petersburg that he had aided the flight of the exile. But
your ladyship's husband declared that he would far
rather die here than live in foreign lands without his
wife. At length it had been agreed upon that he
should not reveal the secret, or inform your ladyship
or any one else in Germany of his whereabouts, until
three years had passed, and this Baron von Hohenhorst
had sworn to him on the cross and by the blood of
Christ. But when, only three weeks later, your ladyship came to Berezov herself, bringing, too, an imperial pardon for her husband, he had felt very wretched,
and had preferred to see as little as possible of your
ladyship, because he feared your ladyship's grief might
move him so deeply that he would confess every thing
to you, and bring on his own ruin by doing so. But
since then his conscience had given him no rest, particularly because he feared that your ladyship might
marry again, and thus unconsciously commit a heavy
sin, and then perhaps fall into great distress in three
years, unless your first honored husband shduld during
that time die in battle in the Turkish army, which he




THE DISCLOSURE.            273
had intended to enter. He had, however, been forced
to leave every thing to God; but now, when his end
was approaching, and the disclosure could no longer
harm him, it was his wish that I should reveal the
whole matter to your ladyship, for the reason that
your honored husband had not perhaps returned to
you long ago, which I pray most fervently God may
have permitted to be the case.
"Soon after the poor, cowardly man had made this
confession to me, he departed this life, for no Esculapian skill could possibly saye him. Your most humble servant hopes to God that your ladyship will forgive him in Christian charity. It is, indeed, but natural to us all to consider our own advantage before
all else. I, at least, deeply as I pity your ladyship,
ought not to say a word against him, as he has remembered me bounteously in his will, and, having no children or other natural heirs, has rewarded my medical
services so liberally that I can now hope to rest from
my labors in my old age.
"Written at. Berezov, this 3d of May, A. D. 1753.
I remain, until death, in reverence and pity, your ladyship's most obedient servant,
"Dr. CHRISTIAN BRENNER."
The paper fell from Agatha's hand upon the table,
when, upheld by a supernatural force, she had reached
the end of the letter.' She sat speechless, rigid, ghastly pale, without stirring.
Suddenly there was a low knock at the door. A
moment after, it opened slowly, and Mannsfeld entered
the room, wrapped in a travelling-cloak, a travellingcap in his hand.




274             FIFTEEN YEARS.
He stood still a moment; then, hesitatingly, advanced a few steps. "I have come, madame," he said,
raising his voice with a painful effort, "to pay my
respects to you before leaving."
Agatha stared at him with wide-open eyes. She
answered not a word. He came nearer. He stood
before her.
" Moritz!" she whispered. He started. He knelt
before her. "You know me, my Agatha?" he asked,
in a low voice.
She lifted her trembling hand and pointed to the
letter. His eye fell upon the name of Brenner.
"Moritz," she breathed, in hardly audible tones,
"can you forgive the adulteress?"
"You are none, beloved wife," he replied, in a
gentle, soothing voice. "   You thought me dead. I
know every thing."
She fell upon his neck. "Then go," she said, resolutely, "go, that I may not become one. Protect me
from myself, my Moritz."
"I go," he answered. "I go consoled, for I know
now that you still love me. I have known it since
yesterday. I can renounce my claim to possessing
you, but I cannot renounce your love."
One long, fervent, burning, consuming kiss-the
first after fifteen years of separation, the last for life!
At that moment a country wagon came rattling at
full speed into the court. Ingeborg, who had been
standing by the window in the next room, cried out in
her dismay, even before opening the door, " Madame,
the count!"
There was a noise on the stairs; a few seconds,




THE DISCLOSURE.            275
and the door of the anteroom flew open. The count,
in travelling-costume, entered, followed by Caritas,
who had hastened to meet him. His valet, too, came
in close on his heels, prompted by curiosity, to relieve
him of his cloak and hat. But the count said, " There
is no hurry, my good friend," and locked the door behind Caritas and himself.
" Do not be alarmed, my dear," he said to Agatha,
who stood before him, trembling violently and deadly
pale-" I come as a fugitive: Brahe and Horn were arrested yesterday. It is all over with them. Several
others were arrested at the same time, and I have reason to fear that one of the scoundrels who is to be
tried to-day will depose against me. If there were
still a trace of justice in the land, they could do me no
harm; but even the most guiltless is not safe from
these cruel tyrants. I have put them  on a wrong
track. For a full day at least I am free from danger.
Early at dawn to-day I sent my heavily-loaded travelling-carriage with my faithful Volkmar to Rodkrita.
I only remained in the carriage till we had got to
some distance beyond the gate; then I alighted cautiously, walked to the nearest farm-house, and hired
one of their rickety wagons to bring me here to Soderwyk. I still feel its confounded jolting in all my
limbs. I shall be safe here for to-night at least. They
have doubtless sent a detachment of cavalry after me
to Rodkrita, to arrest me, but even the fleetest horse
cannot reach it under fourteen hours."
The count spoke breathlessly. He wished to appear unconcerned, but those who knew him could
easily detect the deadliest apprehension in-his voice.




276              FIFTEEN YEARS.
"Let us fly," said Agatha, with colorless lips. "We
can conceal ourselves in some peasant's hut in the
mountains."
"Agatha! you look like a corpse! Poor wife!
For this night we are safe. I need rest."
"Mamma," said Caritas, "we have a good hidingplace for papa here in the house. -Nobody but Ingeborg knows that there is a large closet behind the
linen-chamber in the gable, where, you know, the old
Counts Kronhelm hid all their gold and silver from
the Danish pirates. If we cover the partition wall
with another hanging, no one will suspect that there
is a door in it."
"That is good advice," observed the count. "The
girl is shrewd."
Mannsfeld now approached. "Monsieur the count,"
he said, "your servants are aware of your arrival.
You are not safe from betrayal. I would advise you
urgently to withdraw as far as possible, until the danger is over. You have horses enough and a comfortable carriage, which will take you in a few nights and
days to Gothenburg or Elsinore, where you will be
safe, for you can only be so on board of an English
vessel. You can drive around the cities on the outside, and none of the peasants will betray you. The
storm is rising fearfully. Keep at a distance until it
is over."
The count, who had sat down on a sofa, looked at
him in painful doubt. It would have been hard to decide whether, at the moment, he was more concerned
in mind or wearied in body.
Suddenly he started up. A half-suppressed noise




THE DISCLOSURE.            2T7
was heard in the court-yard. Horsemen had entered
it as softly as possible; the servants came running
from all sides; the talking of muffled men's. voices
was distinctly heard.  " My pursuers!" cried the
count, in mortal terror. A loud voice was heard to
say, " Guard all the doors! 
"Well, then," said Mannsfeld, resolutely, "let us
change parts, monsieur the count!"   With these
words, he quickly divested the count of his cloak, threw
his own around him, and put his own cap upon his
head. "The little door at the foot of that flight of
stairs will take you safely into the garden. My horse
stands ready saddled and loaded by the back gate. It
will bring you to NykSping before daylight. A Dantzic bark, the Polish Crown, skipper Jansen, is lying
in the harbor there. Here is my passport. Here the
receipt for the passage-money for Moritz Mannsfeld.
Hasten! I shall take care that you gain such a start
that none of your pursuers shall be able to reach you.
Quick! The vessel is to sail to-morrow at sunrise."
He thrust the trembling count through the door
of the dressing-room.  "Go with him, Caritas," he
said; "do not leave him until he is safely on horseback."   Caritas obeyed.  He himself threw  the
count's cloak around him, and drew his hat down over
his face.
While he was speaking, heavy steps and men's
voices echoed through the house. Agatha's room was
situated in the wing. The main building was apparently being searched first.  The private backstairs
were known to no one.
"Be calm, beloved," said Mannsfeld, as he with



278             FIFTEEN YEARS.
drew to the dressing-room, and darkened it completely, by closing the shutters. "I shall save your husband, the father of your boys. Compose yourself,
dearest Agatha! there is no danger, either, for my
wretched life."
At that moment there was a vehement knocking
at the door. "Delay opening the door for a while,"
advised Mannsfeld; "'that will give him more time."
A loud call was heard outside: " Open the door,
Countess Kronhelm, in the name of the senate!"
Mannsfeld locked the door of the dressing-room
behind him. Agatha kept quiet. She hardly ventured to breathe.
But the knocking grew louder, " Open, madame,
or we must break the door!"
Agatha at length unlocked the door. She retreated to the centre of the room. A momentary
courage came over her in this hour of urgent danger.
An officer, a corporal, and two privates, burst into the
room. She stood before them in all the majestic dignity of an offended lady of high rank.
"What has given you the right, monsieur the lieutenant, to enter this house and the apartment of a lady
by force?" she demanded, with a look of indignation.
"The order of the senate, madame! Where is
the count?"
"Is it proper for you to question me in this manner, sir? Is that the way in which a cavalier should
address a lady?"
"Madame the countess, I have been commanded
by the senate to arrest your husband. He is concealed here."




THE DISCLOSURE.            279
"You are mistaken. Count Kronhelm is not in
this house."
"4He is here, madame-all your servants testify
against you. I know that he is concealed in this
room "-he looked about him-" or in that one." He
pointed to the door which led to the dressing-room.
"I swear to you, by God in heaven," cried Agatha,
"that the count is not here. He is not in the house."
But when the officer advanced toward the dressing-room, she preceded him by a rapid movement,
leaned with her back against -the door, and cried:
" I shall never permit my wardrobe to he searched,
as if I had been accused of theft. I swear to you
again, that Count Kronhelm is not in there. He is
not in this house."
"He is! He cannot have escaped. All the doors
are guarded."
" Look for him elsewhere, then. He is not here."
" Let us go in, madame," cried the officer, impatiently. "Step back."
"I shall not step back. No lady of rank will submit to such indignities."
But he seized her roughly by the shoulder, and
drew her aside in spite of her resistance.  "Violence! " cried Agatha in terror.
Suddenly the door was unlocked from the inside.
"Use your bravery against men, sir lieutenant," said
a scornful voice. The- officer and his companion entered the dark room; the privates, who, until then
had remained by the outer door, rushed up and placed
themselves in the door of the dressing-room, pushing
Agatha out of their way.




280              FIFTEEN -YEARS.
Inside there was perfect darkness, except that a
strip of the faint light of the evening twilight fell
from the sitting-room through the open door.
A tall figure, wrapped in a cloak, a flat hat pushed
far down over its face, stood leaning against the wall
opposite the door.
"Monsieur the count," said the.fficer, "I arrest
you in the name of the senate."
"Where is your order of arrest, lieutenant?"
"Here," replied the other, showing him the paper.
"It is not valid. The king's signature is wanting."
The officer, without considering that the other
could not possibly have discovered this in the dark,
replied:
"The king's seal is sufficient. You are my prisoner, monsieur the count."
But the corporal had had time to examine the dark
figure more closely. The foreign accent had struck
him suspiciously. He opened the shutter hastily.
"Sir lieutenant," he cried, "this is not Count
-Kronhelm!" 
"Who told you that I was Count Kronhelm? I
am a stranger, under the protection of the English
ambassador, and shall call you to account if you lay
hands on me."
" Where is the count?" cried the officer, furious
at his mistake. "You have helped him to escape!
He must be somewhere."
"There must be a door here somewhere. The fellow down-stairs said something about a back door,"
observed the corporal.




THE DISCLOSURE.             281
They were about to fall upon him. But Mannsfeld leaned still more firmly against the door. As he
tried to spread his cloak more at the bottom, it slid
from his shoulder, and disclosed his mutilated arm in
its sling. A trace of the tapestry door became visible.
The officer as well as his subordinate rushed upon
him. But he held his powerful right arm against
them like a shield. "Let no one dare to touch me! "
he cried.
The officer considered himself in the right. He
drew his sword. The corporal followed his example.
"If you love your life," cried the lieutenant, "make
way!"
At this, Mannsfeld, with the rapidity of lightning,
drew a pistol from his bosom, and prepared to fire.
"Whoever touches me is lost! I will give you access
to the door now, if you will put up your swords."'"Murder!" vociferated the lieutenant, who had
sprung to one side at sight of the pistol. As Mannsfeld turned threateningly to the corporal, who still
stood on his right with drawn. sword, the officer, with
the bound of a wild-cat, sprang upon his shoulder
from the left, where his mutilated arm gave no means
of defence, and half pulled him to the ground, while
the corporal buried his sword in his body. The pistol
went off in the hand of the falling man, the apartment
was filled with the smoke of powder. The murderous
weapon had contained no ball.
The murderers rushed across the body of their
victim, out of the door, and down the stairs, the privates after them. Caritas, on her return by circuitous
paths through the garden and the front door, followed




282             FIFTEEN YEARS.
by the children and Ingeborg and the other women of
the house, pale and trembling with terror, found her
mother lying in unconsciousness beside the corpse of
her father.
He had been still alive, still conscious, when the
loving woman took him in her arms. "I die in your
arms," he murmured with broken voice-" I am happy to die so. God has dealt more kindly with me than
I had hoped. Continue to live for your children's
sake! I have rescued their father for them. He will
be Carry's father too."
The unfortunate man might perhaps have been
saved, if there had been a surgeon at hand to stop the
bleeding. The women laid him on the bed, cut open
his clothes, and bound up the enormous, gaping wound
as well as they could, but the skilful hand was wanting. Life had been long extinct when the surgeon,
who had been sent for from a distance, at length arrived. Agatha still lay in a state of unconsciousness.
Inconsolable and only upheld by the youthful vigor of
an heroic nature, the young orphan hovered to and fro
between the couches of her beloved parents.
The emissaries of the senate, after having examined the cellars, the garret, and the whole garden,
rode away, cursing. Their leaders, overwhelmed with
reproaches by some of the weeping maid-servants, did
not venture to enter the house again. A gloomy,
desolate silence brooded over the whole place.




CHAPTER XIV.
CONCLUSION.
MORE than two long, eventful months had passed.
The friends of the king had paid, for the crime of attempting to alter the constitution, on the scaffold.
The unhappy monarch, who, by a cruel decree of his
tyrants, was deprived of the noblest privilege of
crowned heads, the power of pardoning, could not
save them nor hardly himself, indeed, except by solemnly declaring that he had not known any thing
of the conspiracy raised in his favor. Those among
his friends who were less implicated were outlawed,
among them Count Kronhelm.
Mannsfeld was buried in the quiet garden at Soderwyk. A plain stone, overshadowed by a weepingwillow, marked the spot. The name of " Moritz Mannsfeld " was inscribed upon the stone, together with the
words, "He died, murdered by the servants of the
law, a victim to his magnanimity."
In the house Caritas still sat by her mother's sickbed. When the unhappy woman at length awoke
from her swoon, her mind was far away. The most
celebrated physicians of Stockholm came and went,




284              FIFTEEN YEARS.
but they could not check the passionate ravings of this
fearfully-shaken soul. The patient spoke German, only
German. She was in Silesia with her parents; the victorious Prussians were entering the captured fortress.
She was sitting by his bedside. To her mind, which
often seemed entranced, the past fifteen years were
steeped in the deepest night of oblivion.
"Oh!" Caritas would think, "would it not be a
blessing for the dear one, if she were never, never
again to come to herself and to a consciousness of the
truth? if God would take her now, now in her fancied
happiness?"
But, generous though she was, it was only for a
few moments that the young girl could endure the
thought. Then she would sink down on her knees by
the bedside, and pray to God the All-merciful to spare
her mother to her. Sometimes her sobs would waken
Agatha to momentary consciousness.  "What ails
you, dearest child?" she would ask, in a low voice.
The daughter would sink upon her mother's bosom, and
amid their mingled tears the latter would fall into a
gentler sleep, and Caritas would creep into the garden, and weep out her sorrow on her father's grave.
The last few months of deep suffering had developed the girl's strong character to its full natural energy, which otherwise might not have been effected in
as many years. There was no one among the household, no one in the neighborhood, none of the physicians and business-friends, who did not pay her the
tribute of an unqualified admiration. To keep the
house as quiet as possible, she had sent her little
brothers to a country-pastor in the neighborhood of




CONCLUSION.              285
their chdteau, of whom she knew that her mother esteemed him highly. In order to obtain the necessary
funds, she had, fearing that the income of Count Kronhelm's estates might not be paid over to his family as
long as his name was not cleared from the accusations of
his enemies, written betimes to her mother's businessagent in Germany, and obtained from his friendship a
considerable advance on her income. She alone directed all household matters, transacted all necessary
business, and was the chief nurse of her mother, reporting faithfully to the physicians, who left the execution of their directions to her with respectful confidence. All her duties were fulfilled with courage and
resignation — only, during the first few days, when
she, and she alone, caused the remains of her beloved
father to be committed to the earth, and the dark secret of his death veiled the still darker mystery of his
life, her poor young heart almost broke.
Time, by: which all wounds, if not healed, are yet
bound up with tender hand, so that they no longer
bleed incessantly, and finally reopen only now and
then at some ruthless touch, at last exercised its irresistible power also on the stricken mother and daughter.:The first hour in which Agatha's mind was sufficiently clear, was employed by Caritas in communicating to her'that the count had reached Dantzic in
safety, had gone from there to Hamburg, and was at
that time in England. She had addressed a letter to
him there, in which she told him of the devoted death
of his faithful friend, and of her mother's wretched
state. But she took good care not to show the ratter
the answer to this communication which she received,




286             FIFTEEN YEARS.
for in it the count expressed, indeed, deep regret at
both circumstances; but at the same time, in his overwise, dogmatic, egoistic manner, had given it as his
opinion that the unfortunate man might have avoided
so fatal an end, if he had acted with less heroism in
aiding his flight, and made use of more shrewdness in
putting his pursuers on a wrong track; that the days
of heroism were past, and that shrewdness alone could
stay the violent measures of the encroaching powers,
etc., etc. Caritas crushed the letter in her hand in
burning indignation, without reading it to the end.
She still felt in her arm the trembling of the frightened count, as she led him through the dark gardenpaths to the back gate, and helped him mount Mannsfeld's horse, and her father's heroic form stood before
her in redoubled glory.
It was only much later that she, ventured to communicate to her mother Mannsfeld's last letter, which,
resolved to leave, he had finished on the day before
his intended departure, and had probably commenced
shortly after he had disclosed to her who he was.
This letter contained a sketch of the history of
this unfortunate man, whom  Fate had so cruelly
cheated.out of his life. May the reader here cast a
pitying glance upon it!
"MY CARITAS, MY CHILD:
"Yes, I may call you so. This one ray of light
was permitted to fall into the night of my life to make
its darkness still darker, still more melancholy.
"And yet this is not always my feeling. Often,
too, since I have found you, it has seemed to me as if




CONCLUSION..             287
the consciousness of being able to call one creature
on earth my own, of knowing one human soul which
clings to me, which feels for me, had given me new
courage for the struggle of life.
"I have promised, my beloved daughter, to give
you a sketch of my life, which has been such a terrible failure. You shall learn, you must learn, to know
what has prevented me from asserting, in riper years,
the just claims to happiness to which the Almighty
had entitled me in my youth. You must know my
history, to be able still to esteem me.
"It would have been different, if, as I had intended, I had left you without disclosing to you who
I was. Beloved, amiable child! no blush need tinge
your cheek, when I tell you the reasons which induced
me to make myself known to you. I saw with deep
emotion that your young, innocent heart had fallen
captive to a complete self-delusion. That which drew
you to me so powerfully was nothing but the natural
magnetism of hearts, which is in itself not rare among
near blood relations, but in your case was increased,
by the peculiar harmony existing between our individual characters, to an irresistible impulse. Perhaps,
too, the deep, fervent pity for an unhappy man, which
only a woman's heart can experience, had more influence on your feeling than you were aware of. That
you yourself were deceived in your sentiments, was
but according to Nature, and there was not a moment
when this touch of enthusiasm did not make you appear to me far more worthy of love and esteem than
if I had known you only in the dim twilight surrounding an able pupil.




288             FIFTEEN YEARS.
"If this exalted condition of your soul, which you
yourself did not comprehend, finally induced me to.
make myself known to you, I feel also how much I
benefited myself, and indeed your mother, in so doing.
For it was only thus, only by being in possession of
my unhappy secret, that you could, after my departure be a stay and a solace to the dear one whose
heart was beginning to move tumultuously in like
dark, unconscious affinity. And to me there remained,
in the renewed solitude which I had voluntarily chosen from the deepest sense of duty, the one great consolation of your filial love.
"From my last letter to your mother, you know
my unhappy fate up to the nocturnal December revolution in Russia. I was at first, without a shadow of
an inquiry, kept in tolerably supportable confinement
with Colonel von Haimburg, a weak-headed and generally innoxious creature; then, likewise without being brought to trial, or even undergoing an examination in prison, we were both sent to Siberia, to separate points,, though without being in any way maltreated. For the czarina only wished to have us far
away, far away every thing which was connected with
the Regent Anna, because the vicinity of any one who
had been in the service of the deposed couple kept
her in a state of constant apprehension. With all the
outrageous injustice of which I was the victim, I was
yet treated with comparative indulgence. Berezov,
whither I was taken, is not in reality the chief town
of a government department. But the commandant
stationed there, who is subject to the Governor of Tobolsk, also receives the honorary title of governor,




CONCLUSION.              289
which keeps him in good-humor. He was a man of
coarse manners and very little.mind, but kind-hearted
by nature. He made me the tutor of his only son,
more with the intention, probably, of making me his
servant, for he was perfectly arbitrary in his domain.
"But the son-one of those loving, frank, tender
natures, which Providence destines only for a short
existence-attached himself to me with filial affection;
ay, thirsting for knowledge, and long since yearning
dimly to work his way out of the mental slough in
which his position held him confined, he looked up to
me with a sort of adoration, as to the one who was to
open purer sources for him. No wonder that I too
learned to love the boy! He became my instructor in
Russian, while I taught him German and French, and
such of the sciences as were appropriate to his age. I
contrived to keep him out of his father's way, when
the latter had been- drinking, and thus guarded him
and myself from the abuses with which the miserable
fellow, when in that state, was wont to overwhelm
those in particular who endeavored to evade his disgusting caresses; so that just those, whom he loved,
and above all his adored son, were in such cases most
exposed to maltreatment.
" As I lived in the house of Gromoff, the so-called
governor, and therefore shared, with the chief man of
the town, the few comforts of life which a dreary
place like Berezov afforded, -I could easily bear my
exile in Siberia as far as physical wants were concerned, particularly when I compare my situation
with the fearful solitude in which Count. Munnich in
Pelirm, Ostermann, and Lowenwolde, and other dis183




290              FIFTEEN YEARS.
tinguished men, in their several totally-desolate places
of banishment, have been dragging away their shamefully-stinted lives now for fifteen years, whenever
death has not kindly released them. A German doctor, whom his fate had cast away in this spot, under
the terrible'rule of Peter, afforded me some communication with the outer world by means of a Moscow
paper, which was rarely less than three months old
when I obtained a.chance to read it. I learned from
it, shortly':before my flight, that a peace between
Prussia and Austria was in' prospect, which at least
insured to your mother a quiet home. Her image lit
up my soul wondrously. Young, vigorous, and full
of trust in God's guidance, as I was, I hoped with certainty to be reunited to her before: long..As yet I
looked upon the separation from her as the heaviest
burden which the Almighty had given me to bear,
and not for a moment did I relinquish the hope that
His hand would lead me out of this darkness.
"After eight or nine months of a life in which
heart and mind _were alike famished, young Alexander
Gromoff fell'seriously ill.. The hectic color in his
cheeks had for some time already made me feel concerned about him. Now I soon saw clearly, and Dr.
Brenner confirmed me in this view, that his disease
was the inheritance of his mother, a gentle, delicate
creature, who had died of consumption a few years
after the birth of her child. The interest which I
showed him, and the natural consequence of which
was an all the more affectionate care on my part, increased to the utmost the' enthusiastic attachment
which drew him toward me. He would hardly suffer




CONCLUSION.              291
me-to leave him. As is often the case, in his disease
he- had no suspicion of his approaching death. He
made a thousand plans as to how he would endeavor
to ease and beautify my life when he should be well
again, and it was all the harder for me to conceal my
sorrow, since I felt how, with his life, the sole small
taper would be extinguished which lighted up the
night about me.
"At length the rude, unrestrained grief of his father destroyed the boy's illusion. He soon submitted
to the will of God with pious resignation, and it
touched me deeply. that his grateful care was ere long
directed toward his beloved teacher. I do not know
by what means he succeeded in persuading his father
to swear to him, by everjy variety of saint, that, after
his own death, he would afford me the opportunity of
escaping, as soon as he could do so without danger to
himself. The old man stood in far less dread of the
czarina and the distant imperial city, than of his superior, the governor of Tobolsk, who wished him ill, and
watched him closely, because, as the other asserted, he
intended his post for another. He was, as it were,
the sovereign of all Siberia, and, in Gromoff's opinion,
kept his eye constantly upon him and those exiled
since Elizabeth's accession to the throne.
"A few weeks after Alexander's death, a case
really occurred in which, without danger to himself,
he could assist me- to escape. But I was to pay dearly for my flight-not only with my name, but also
with an oath not to return to Germany to my family,
nor to give them- notice of my escape. Of course, I
rejected my liberation unhesitatingly on such condi



292             FIEEN: YEARS.
tions. But the non-fulfilment of the vow Gromoff had
made weighed upon his conscience. We at length
compromised on my keeping away entirely for three
years from Germany and my wife; I was even obliged
to swear that'I would not, under three years, inform
the latter of my escape, or let her know where I was.
In this way alone did he think himself safe from the
danger of being called to account. The circumstances
were these:
"A Greek of high rank, or rather a Moldavian
by birth, had obtained more favor with the Empress
Anna than was convenient to her lover and tyrant
Biron. He thought it advisable to put him out of the
way before the connection should become dangerous
to himself, The unfortunate man, under some pretext, was sent to Siberia, with the order that he
should be detained there ten years, and then, furnished
with passports, should be sent to the Turkish frontier.
It was supposed that the empress had never known
of this measure; on the contrary, Biron had made her
believe that the young prince had suddenly returned
to his native land, and thus roused her resentment
and wrath against the unhappy victim.
"The family of this half-forgotten exile, resident
in Jassy, had interceded in his behalf with the empress regent when Biron was overthrown by her; in
consequence of the complicated nature of the affair,
however, as well as the great distances over which
communications had to pass, it had not really been
agitated till after a new change of government. As
nothing could be advanced against the banished
prince that could stand in the way of any of the fa



CONCLUSION.              293
vorites of the Czarina Elizabeth, the latter had easily
made up her mind to pardon him. But the imperial
order arrived when the unfortunate man was lying on
his death-bed, about two years before the expiration
of his term of banishment. I was now to receive my
freedom as this Prince Stephen Ghika, while he was
buried as Moritz Hohenhorst. As the pardon only
shortened the time of his exile, but did not revoke the
order to send him to the Turkish frontier at its expiration, Gromoff still considered himself bound by the
latter decree, or rather made use of it for my liberation.  I was provided with a passport in Ghika's
name; and a purseful of gold, a watch, some papers,
and the like, which the unhappy man had had on his
person at the commencement of his banishment, and
which the governor had taken charge of for him, were
delivered over to me.
"Thus I was packed into a sleigh, with two of the
military officials who serve the Siberian governors as
an executive police, without knowing exactly what
was to be my.destination; for the distance between
Berezov, or, indeed, any part of Siberia and the Turkish frontier, is immense, and the whole order, by which
it was evidently intended that the Moldavian, his exile ended, should be finally sent back to his home, was
doubtless drawn up by Biron in an hour of jealous anger, but without the slightest knowledge of the situation. But to Gromoff this signified quite as little as it
would have signified to the majority of Russian officials. According to his geographic-ideas, Turkey comprised all of Asia that was not China, or, like Siberia,
subject to Russia. He would therefore have found it




294              FIFTEEN YEARS.
most convenient to send me to free Tartary, the nearest boundary of the Russian empire. But the road
thither led over Tobolsk, and it was of the utmost importance to him to avoid this and the possible interference of the governor there. The chief thing to be
considered was haste. He therefore did not delay to
send me in a sleigh by way of Kazan-an immense distance-to one of the minor ports of the Volga. Thence
a small vessel-for this Wonderful stream remains navigable, in its most southern parts, through the depths of
winter-was to take me to Astrakhan, where my companions were to place me on one of the Turkish merchantmen which were said to be lying there.
"I suspect that Gromoff mistook the Caspian Sea
for the Black Sea. Perhaps, indeed, he only confounded
Persia with Turkey. Of the boundaries of Turkey he
knew only the lines of Procopius, because the doctor
had read to him from the paper that Minnich, with his
brave Russians, had taken them by storm a few years
ago.
"The governor's orders were fulfilled. The Russian
surgeon and his companion put me on board of a Persian
vessel, as no Turkish ship was to be found, and as, on
the former as well as the latter, the captain and crew
were Mohammedans, and wore the fez. They remained
on board until the time of sailing, so as to prevent
my treading on Russian soil, for which I verily had no
inclination.
"'Iwas now free   0 Caritas, what a feeling of
bliss, to befree after an imprisonment of two years!
But this was indeed all at which I could rejoice, for
my plans were again destroyed. I had intended to




CONCLUSION.              295
enter the Turkish army. I detested the war-service as
a trade; I had once only chosen a military career as
the road to chivalric honor. The idea of fighting with
Mussulmans, and perhaps against Christians, was repugnant to me. But what was left to me? I had made
the plan of seeking out Bonneval without delay. I
knew that he was a renegade, and could not esteem
him. But quite as little could I refrain from admiring
him. He was the man to recognize what was in me.
He would have given me an officer's commission. -It
was my wish to spend the three wretched years of my
banishment in Turkey, to struggle through them at
least in circumstances which did not entirely cut off
my communication with Europe. What could I do in
Persia-without the slightest knowledge of the language, the manners and customs, or any thing connected with the country? The military fame of Shah
Nadir had resounded also in Europe a few years beTore. But it seemed to-me as if a conflict with the
Mongolians would crowd my reunion with my beloved
wife still more into the background. I therefore adhered to my plan in spite of these new difficulties, and,
after having'been for some:nonths tossed about mercilessly and wish horrible experiences, I finally succeeded in joining a caravan which was going from
Teheran to Erzroom.
"Since our entrance into the bay of Retch, it had'been- the chief aim of my life to become sufficiently
familiar with the language of the country to at least
make myself understood. On board the vessel I had
been aided by the small stock of Italian possessed by
one of the merchants. Now I found here and there a




296              FIFTEEN YEARS.
Russian tradesman, or a deserter of that nation, with
whom I could talk. In Teheran I had- for some weeks
made it my exclusive occupation to learn the Persian
colloquial language, and, with the aid of the Moldavian's inheritance, had even engaged a teacher. For the
ample leisure which the journey with the caravan
promised me, I had supplied myself with a Turkish
grammar, and the amazement with which my travelling companions continually praised my industry, at
last grew quite burdensome to me. Moreover, necessity not only teaches us to pray,* but also to learn.
When we reached Erzroom, I could help myself along,
to some degree, by expressing my wants.
"But I could not carry out my plan. Bonneval
was in a kind of disgrace, and lived in retirement, and
at a distance from the army. I saw no means of
reaching him, and necessity finally forced me to enlist
without his influence.  The government was just
then recruiting very actively, and that-of which I
could have no suspicion-against Persia. For the
great victories of Shah Nadir in India had made his
might terrible also for the more Western powers, and
it was suspected that he would endeavor to extend his
rule also in that direction. Soon a bloody border-war
broke out-no actual war; a wild, cruel carnage,
which filled with me horror. I soon succeeded in rising
to the rank of an officer, and myself becoming the leader
of an uncivilized horde. The supremacy in Georgia
was one of the bloody apples of discord between the
Oriental powers, and remained so. In a wild skirmish
I received a wound in the head, which cost me my left
* German proverb:' Necessity teaches us to pray."




CONCLUSION.              297
eye. I lay for a long time in entire unconsciousness;
but, probably by a mistake, in being taken for a
Persian officer instead of a Turkish one, I was taken
up with a heap of other half-dead men, and carried to
a kind of hospital which had been established in one
of the border-towns of Khoozistan.
"Now, it so happened that a young Persian of
noble family was also lying in this hospital, badly
wounded. His father, aman of high station and great
erudition, had come the long distance from Sheeraz,
where he lived, to seek out his dangerously-wounded
son, and, if possible, take him home, where he could
be better taken care of. The son was a wild, reckless
fellow, who gave the worthy man great cause for sorrow. He died, and the father bore his loss with truly
Oriental composure. His kind care, however, was now
directed to others among the wounded, and it was I
in particular who soon absorbed his undivided interest. As soon as my condition made it possible, he
had me packed in pillows and rugs, and conveyed to
Sheeraz with much trouble and expense. All that the
East can afford of domestic comfort and luxury, was
lavished upon me. My benefactor himself was versed
in medical skill, although theology and jurisprudence
were in reality his professions-two branches of learning which are often united in the East. My eye could
not be saved; but otherwise I soon regained, under
the best of care, the most vigorous health.
" Hadji Tschelebi-such was the name of this excellent man-enjoyed great distinction as a scholar, as
well as on account of his piety. His life was so pure,
and his kindness and benevolence so unbounded, that




298             MFITREN YEABS.
in Europe I should unhesitatingly have called him the
best Christian whom I had ever met; but he acted
only according to the laws of the Koran, and even declared that he had with difficulty overcome an inward'inclination to rebel against them. In his family he
was not fortunate. It' seemed as if Nature had exhausted itself in his mental: endowments; his sons, in
spite of a careful education, had remained'simpletons
and blockheads, and two of the four'were, besides,
coarse bullies, who, from the first, had caused him
more sorrow than joy.' This misfortune, too, he bore
with great composure, and consoled himself with
the reflection:'It is the will of Allah! Allah be
praised!'
"The worthy man had soon recognized that God's
will had thrown in his way, in me, a character of a
different stamp. He had resolved that I should take
the place of the son whom he had lost. It had long
been his wish to attach to himself a European of learning, who could be his teacher and, pupil at the same
time, the translator of his worksinto some of the European languages, and the reproductive recipient of his
ideas. During the.five years which I spent with him,
I acted in all these capacities: I became his secretary,
his teacher, his pupil,.his confidant, his son. I thanked
God for the welcome haven which He had opened to
me for the three years during which I had sworn to
remain at a distance from your mother. At' the expiration of that time, I felt:I must go to Germany, at
least to Europe. For' it'was my' plan to enter the
army:of some European country, and I trusted firmly
in your mother's love, which would induce her to: fol



CONCLUSION.              299
low me wherever I went. Meanwhile I devoted all
my mental powers to my Oriental studies, partly from
real interest in them, partly too because in this way
only I could prove to my benefactor my entire gratitude.
"I did not feel that my oath made it incumbent
upon me to await the full expiration of the three years,
before writing to your mother, for at least two or
three months must pass, before a letter from.Sheeraz
could reach Silesia. Even before that, I had made
some attempts to inform her, in few words and without signature, of my rescue, without hinting where I
was, still less how I had escaped. But, as I feared at
the time, and know now, none of these missives ever
reached Agatha. From the wild scenes of war, which
were in no connection with Europe, I had only tried
to send them to Constantinople, whenever an opportunity offered, by merchants, government messengers,
etc., who were to forward them by the very imperfect
postal communication which connects the Ottoman empire with' Christian Europe.  They were, however,
probably thrown aside as soon as the money which I
had saved for that purpose had been received. Now,
Hadji Tschelebi, who had connections in the whole
country, promised to forward a letter safely to Ispahan, whence an embassy was just about to be dispatched to Paris, in response to the civility of the
French court, who had, shortly before sent a brilliant
deputation to Shah Nadir, in order to undermine the
influence which England was acquiring by way of
India. My letter was safely dispatched, and arrived
sooner than I had indeed ventured to hope. Quite as




300             FIFTEEN YEARS.
safely, quite as quickly, the answer came back to me,
like an awful thunder-bolt!
"My Caritas!-all that love, the truest, deepest love, could put into words, was contained in my
letter. My plan was, to enter the English service.
My generous friend had offered to assist me with the
necessary funds. I begged Agatha to come to England. I did not wish to return to Germany before I
had regained a military appointment. At the same
time I enclosed a letter to my uncle and former guardian in Brunswick, and gave the worthy man a full
account of my experiences.
"After four months of weary waiting, I received a
letter postmarked Wildeneck, forwarded from France.
Breathlessly I opened it. It was in stiff, old-fashioned
writing, not my wife's unpractised but delicate hand.
A look of apprehension, cast upon the signature,
showed me the names:'Countess Promnitz, at the
request and by command of Count E. C. Promnitz.'
At the same moment a small object wrapped in paper
fell from the envelope, which I still held in my left
hand, to the floor. I took it up. It was a ring, the wedding-ring which I had placed upon my Agatha's hand
five years before.'She is dead' I cried, in horror.
"Caritas! If she had been dead, I should have
borne it like a man, like a man bereft of all his hopes
of happiness for this life, but resigned to the will of
God, in the hope of a speedy reunion beyond. But
the direful letter brought me far more cruel tidings.
She was not dead. She was only dead for me, and
became so in giving me a stab which deprived me of
the sole possession which was still dearer t6 me than




OOOCLUSION.              301
she, my honor. I cannot repeat the words of the fearful letter exactly; I only know that it commenced
with these:
"'BARON MORITZ VON HOHENHORST:
"'It is exclusively frompolitesse that I still address
you as a nobleman, after you have been cashiered
and deprived of your title by his majesty our gracious
king. It is with surprise and the utmost amazement
that my husband, as well as myself, have gathered
from your letter, that, notwithstanding your having now for so many years been cast about the world
as an idle adventurer, you still lay claim to the hand of
the countess of the empire, Agatha von Promnitz, as
well as the property which will at some future day fall
to her by inheritance,' etc.
"This was the tone, this the spirit, of the whole
letter. I would not repeat its words to you even if
I remembered them. The writer communicated to me
that my wife no longer acknowledged her marriage
with a deserter, who had in consequence been cashiered
and deprived of his title; that she had applied for a
divorce on the ground of desertion, and had obtained
it, and that she was already married again to a nobleman of unstained name and high rank, Count Balke
-thus she wrote the name-in Paris, for which reason
she herewith returned to me her wedding-ring, etc."No words can depict the impression which this
letter made upon me. It was not Agatha who had
written it. Had it been written in her name, I should
have detected the deception; but, drawn up as it was




302              FIFTEEN YEARS.
in a stiff, unpractised female hand, interlarded with
pious phrases and German-French expressions, I, without a suspicion that Agatha's own mother lay in her
grave and her place was so shamefully filled, did not
doubt for a moment that Countess Benigna had written it, and that Agatha, weak, without character, and
with youthfully superficial feelings, had acted under
her influence, and was totally estranged from the unhappy man who had once wakened her girlish interest
by the new experience of his love. The ring which
was enclosed in the letter vouched for this.
"I was in a fearful state. I hardly knew whether
rage or grief had the upper hand at first. It is certain
that it was not the former which helped me to conquer the latter, but it helped me suppress it outwardly,
that is, to show a manly fortitude in presence of my
adopted father, who, after the manner of the Orientals,
had but a low opinion' of women, and was not at all
surprised at this turn of affairs, although he had never
pained me by unkind prophecies. From this time I
devoted myself still'more exclusively- to my studies,
and a few years passed in outward quiet.
"But in the year 1747 the -great prince died, who
had held together the extended realm. Persia was
agitated by bloody revolutions, and was rent in pieces.
In fair Sheeraz, too, there was no longer any peace for
learned occupations. Hadji Tschelebi resolved upon a
new pilgrimage'to Mecca. I, in the feeling that outward storms would be the best means of keeping
down those within'me,'and also not without fear that
Isuch:constant studies might extinguish the partial
light which was all that'remained to:me, decided on




CONTCLUSION.             303
once more entering upon a military life. I chose the
army of Kandahar.  An Afghan, Ahmed Abdallah,
reigned there, and his troops stood opposed to the invading forces of the Great Mogul, for the death of the
terrible Shah Nadir was gladly taken advantage of by
the subjugated neighboring principalities for d6fection
and revenge.  My adopted father had supplied me
with money and letters of introduction. Consequently
I immnediately received a high appointment. There
was opportunity enough for deeds of valor, and, after
the indignities which I had experienced from my nearest friends, the distinction and esteem received from
these strangers were most gratifying.
"It would carry me too far to tell you in detail
how, amid wild adventures, I found my way to the
Mahrattas, to Lahore and Deccan, and nearer and nearer to the British possessions. I might have reached
the point of being one of the chief leaders of these
benighted tribes, but the hand of God interfered. I
lost my left arm in a bloody battle. - My convalescence
was slow. When I had but half-recovered, the smallpox broke out with great violence among the troops,
seized also upon me, and disfigured me in such a degree that I reentered upon life a different creature,
as it were.
"I now bade adieu to warfare, resigned my commission, and went to Bombay, with the intention of
returning thence to Persia as soon as I could learn
that the Hadji was again in Sheeraz. Instead, however,
I was met there by the intelligence of his death. The
excellent'man had left me in his will' a considerable
sum, which was sent me by his sons, with the dying




304             FIFTEEN YEARS.
blessing of their venerable father, to Bombay. Here I
again lived for some time, quietly absorbed in study,
with the particular object of a thorough acquisition
of the Sanscrit language. But, though I had outwardly adopted the stoic composure of the Orientals,
I was far from being calm within, and, seized by a
vague longing for Europe, I at length departed for
England.
"My return to Europe marked the beginning of
a new period in my fearfully-desolated life. I doubt
whether I can call it a happier one than that which
preceded it. Yet time had imperceptibly made me
more calm and resigned. My first object now was to
find a decent means of subsistence, for the expenses
of the journey had exhausted my funds. By teaching,
translating, and writing articles, particularly for military journals, I managed to support myself, while I
still had anmple leisure for reading and mental improvement. Thus the librarian from Stockholm found
me, and I accepted his proposition, to accompany him
to Sweden for the purpose of regulating the Oreintal
department of the Royal Library, without hesitation.
For I had a great desire to know more of Scandinavia,
and could thus easily earn enough to defray the expenses of a future journey through that country, so
remarkable for its peculiar natural features. To the
librarian's surprise, I had already in a few months completed the labor for which he had calculated at least a
year. He was niggardly enough to pay me according
to time. The sum I thus earned was not sufficient for
the execution of my travelling-plans. Thus circumstances induced me to accept Count Kronhelm's most




CONCLUSION.              305
unexpected proposition. I had always been fond of
children.  True, the thought of living in a familycircle, after I myself had been so cruelly deprived by
Fate of all share in such happinesss, was repugnant to
me. But I was driven by necessity; the count's offer
was a liberal one, and my condition, of being allowed
to dissolve the connection whenever I saw fit, left me
in possession of my liberty. I therefore accepted his
proposition.
"Strange, mysterious fatality, which, by the way
of necessity, and the effort of gaining my livelihood,
was to lead me back to my wife, and enable me to
-gain possession of my child!
"I have now reached one of the most fearful moments of my life-perhaps, if I except that in which I
received that fatal letter, the most overwhelming.
When I found myself in the presence of your motherwhen she stood before me in her perfectly-developed,
heavenly beauty, in the noblest womanly dignity, graciously and affably welcoming the unfortunate stranger with cordial words, as a dear compatriot-it seemed
as if I had suddenly gone mad! It was she, it was
Agatha, my wife, my false, disloyal wife! It was her
voice, her sweet, tender, caressing voice that first
convinced me. I had never had the most distant
thought that I should meet her here, in this remote
country. In London, at a coffee-house, I had once
happened to hear a traveller, who had just come from
Paris, mention the'beautiful Countess Balke.' This
was the form given to the name in the fatal letter,
thus it was pronounced in France, and it had never
entered my mind that it was in any way connected




306             FIFTEEN' YEARS.
with:Sweden. I was struck as by a blow in hearing
it; and, when the young puppy went on to tell how
she had shone at some festivity in splendor and wealth
of attire, and had been the queen of the soiree, I was
so forcibly seized by the consciousness of the horrible
irony of the fate which had made of me an exiled, inactive cripple, bereft of honor and of means, while it
showered upon her, the companion it had once assigned
to me, as if in sport, every flower and blossom of' existence, that it was only with the utmost exertion that
I could rouse myself and withdraw from the society of
men.' Though, since the receipt of that outrageous letter, the thought-had often crossed my diseased brain
that I would seek out the unworthy woman who had
deserted me so cruelly, overwhelm her with reproaches, and, if she repented, cast her from me, I now
swore to myself that I would never, never see her
again; to avoid every possibility of meeting her;
never set foot in France, Italy, or Germany, again.
It seemed to me as if Providence itself, which had so
richly endowed her with all the blessings of life, while
it had robbed me of them, had itself opened an impassable gulf between us. And now I suddenly stood
close, close before her —before Agatha!
"The night which followed was awful! Early the
next morning I gathered all the force which was left
to me, to go to the librarian who had made me acquainted with Count Kronhelm. I heard from him, at
the same time that he spoke of the: countess with a
kind of adoration, that the count had adopted the
name of Kronhelm only a few years ago, on account




CONCLUSION.              307
of an inheritance; that he had formerly been called
Balke, but now, as heir to the Kronhelm estates, bore
the name of Balke-Kronhelm, and was generally designated only as Count Kronhelm; that his wife, a German countess of the empire by birth, had previously
been married to a Prussian officer, and had a daughter
by her first husband, whom the count treated as his
own child, etc.
"A   daughter - a daughter of fourteen by her
first husband! my precious Caritas! No words can
express the feeling which penetrated me when the
good man casually mentioned this circumstance. I
felt as the condemned man must feel who has already
laid his head upon the block, and to whom is communicated the merciful decree that his sentence of death
is commuted to imprisonment for life. It was, indeed,
life alone which was granted to me. I still lived in
my child! But what a life was it? I had a daughter, but I must not acknowledge her. She must not
call me father. Another was in possession of her filial love. And yet it was your existence which, after
the most painful struggles, at last made me decide to
accept the position as tutor. I could still hope to become your spiritual father, your guide through life.
What part of this final deoision was owing to the unconscious desire to see your mother again, to breathe
the atmosphere which surrounded her, I will not venture to determine.
(I saw you, my child, and your deep, soulful
eyes, your expressive features, showed me at the first
glance what a rich fruitful' field lay ready for cultivation here. Let it be a solace to you for life, my Cari



308             FIFTEEN YEARS.
tas, that it was you who cast the first ray of light into
the night of my existence-your mind, which was as
ready to receive as your heart was ready to give.
"Nevertheless, hardly a day passed when I did not
tell myself that I must go; forI could no longer deceive
myself with regard to the feelings which had awakened
within me with unconquerable power; Indeed, it was
not merely the enchanting beauty of the rose, only
now fully expanded, which, as a bud, I had once
called my own, that drew me toward her almost irresistibly; I had to see her as mistress of a household,
as mother, ay, as the wife of another, highly-esteemed
man, to recognize her full, inestimable worth. And'
what was my position with regard to the count?
How! should I deceive him, who, with generous confidence, had opened to me. the sanctuary of his home;
had confided to my care his dearest earthly treasures, his children? Should I continue to deceive him,
after stealing into his house under a false name?
"And yet I remained, partly on your account,
partly induced by that unconquerable feeling. Aside
from a passionately-awakened love, there was in my
heart a deep bitterness toward her, because of the
unprincipled weakness with which, by her parents' advice and command, she had renounced the man to
whom she had sworn to be true. For it was only
thus that I could explain her conduct, after I had seen
her again, and her lofty moral dignity exercised upon
me, in our daily intercourse, an irresistible influence.
"Once more: fearfully at variance with myself,
amid constant struggles, I remained. Nothing was
left to me but to keep at a harsh, unnatural distance




CONCLUSION.              309
from her. 0 my daughter! the day arrived when
you disclosed to me the'true state of affairs; the day
when you came to me with eyes red with weeping,
and sought for your father's last resting-place on the
map. You did not suspect that by your disclosure
you conferred on me the greatest benefit ever conferred
on me by any human being: my loving wife's journey into the wilderness, the death of the old countess,
the circumstances which had induced the desolate
young widow to marry again, the infamous deception
practised by her step-mother-the scales fell from my
eyes! From that moment I was another man. She
had never ceased to love me. Yes, I felt it, I knew it,
she loved me still. I —I only had the right to possess
her. I had never resigned this right. The count's
claims were founded on a- deception. Agatha was
mine. I would make myself known to her, to the count.
" But what could I offer her-her, the titled lady,
the wife of a man of recognized honor, whose position
before the world was a brilliant one, whose relation
to her was dignified, kind, and most estimable? I,
poor, dishonored, mutilated to a useless cripple?
should I make the beloved, adored one, the wife of
such as I? and, oh shame! make her noble boys illegitimate?-I felt that I must go. I resolved to leave.
I wrote to the count, and requested my dismission.
"The thought of making myself known to you,
beloved child, and thus making sure of the consolation of a close tie between myself and at least one
precious human being, had often arisen within me.
I was only deterred from so doing by the just fear of
thereby clouding your relation to your mother. For




310             FIFTEEN YEARS.
there should always be perfect truth between mother
and daughter. At the beginning of this letter, dearest, I have touched upon the reasons which decided
me, after all, in favor of this disclosure. But never,
never let your mother know who the unhappy stranger was who at first roused her sympathy only as
a suffering inmate of her household, worthy of pity,
but toward whom, ere long, she too was drawn by an
uncomprehended affinity, a mysterious magnetism of
the heart, which all her virtue, all her womanly dignity, could not conquer, but to which she doubtless
would never have succumbed. I go, I hasten my departure, to restore to the beloved one the peace of her
soul. I take with me the consolation of knowing that
her heart is still mine. I must and can live without
possessing her, but not without her love.
"Once more, dear child, never let her know who I
am. For this reason, too, I must now break off all intercourse with you, for a secret correspondence would
not be befitting in you as a daughter, and rob your
relation to her of its purity. To your firm, heroic
spirit, my daughter, I confide my secret, and found on
it the hope of the restoration of your mother's peace
of mind. It will always be a solace to me that I have
at least opened to you the portal of the temple of
knowledge, which has such an irresistible charm for
you. I enclose the address of a London banking-house.
Through it you can always reach me, if necessary.
Write to me. if you need me-only in that case, precious, beloved child. You can feel what an enormous
sacrifice I am making for your mother's happiness, by
layingthis command upon you as my last wish.




CONCLUSION.              311
"The blessing of the Almighty be with you, my
Caritas! He will at last also have mercy on me.
"Your unhappy father,
"M. v. H."
Six more years passed by, before affairs in Sweden were in so far changed that the Caps at length
gained the upper hand, and the Hlats succumbed.
But neither the people nor the opponents of the
fallen party were benefited by this change. For
Count Kronhelm, however, it had the advantage that
he was at length permitted to return to his native
country and his family. He had frequently expressed
the desire that the latter should follow him to England, and Agatha, ever accustomed to obey his
wishes, had taken the necessary steps at home. But
she was told that, in case she and her children emigrated, she would incur the danger of having the proscription of the count extended also to his family, and
their estates confiscated, and that the only means of
securing to her sons their inheritance was to remain
quietly in the country, and wait for better times.
The count, therefore, renounced his wish, and bade her
stay in Sweden.
This decision lifted a heavy weight from Agatha's
heart.  With pious submission she had learned to
bear her fate; obediently, too, she had prepared to follow her husband's behest and leave Soderwyk, where,
since that fearful day, she had passed summer and
winter. But this spot had now become her heart's
home, and the departure from it would have robbed
her of her sole consolation, her daily visit to his grave.




312              FIFTEEN YEARS.
But selfishness was as far from her noble heart in
sorrow as in happiness. Her darling boys had been
sent, according to an agreement by letter with the
count, to a highly-esteemed school, and she enjoyed
their caressing presence only during their vacations.
But she did not wish Caritas, either, to waste her
youth in such loneliness. In spite of all her daughter's generous resistance, she sent her, a few years
later, under the richly-remunerated guidance of a reduced lady of rank, to England, there to be henceforth
her step-father's companion, and complete her education under his wise supervision.
This was entirely in accordance with Count Kronhelm's wishes. He took his step-daughter, of whom
he was proud, to France, to Italy; gaveher, wherever
they temporarily stopped, every advantage for brilliant and at the same time thorough instruction, and
took great pleasure, as he felt himself growing older,
in her loving care and attention. Caritas saw the
world spread before her with delight; but her most
precious hours were those in which, in long, long letters, she could open her heart to her mother in her
quiet solitude at home.
When at length, after the lapse of years, the travellers returned to Sweden, the count was visibly
startled at the sight of his wife. Instead of the forty
years which she numbered, a stranger would have
taken her for nearly sixty. The lovely roundness of
form, which had been one of her charms, had fallen
away to an unhealthy thinness. Her glorious golden
hair had become scanty and completely gray. The
brilliancy of her eyes was dimmed by tears. The




oCONCLUSION.             313
dazzling whiteness of her skin alone remained, owing,
probably, to the Northern atmosphere in which she
had lived, as well as the deep, soulful eye from-which
her pure spirit shone out.
The count proposed that they should go to Germany, take possession of her inherited estates-for
Countess Aurora, too, was dead-and then visit some
one of the celebrated German baths, which might be
beneficial to her. But when she refused, he was in
reality well pleased, for he was growing old and infirm, and longed for the quiet of home. And this he
enjoyed in the fullest measure when he retired, with
his family and his books, to Rodkrita, for he wished
to keep aloof from-all political disturbances. Agatha,
too, went thither gladly. Her daily pilgrimages to
Moritz's grave might have seemed improper, as long
as she did not disclose her secret to her husband,
which, after a long struggle with herself, she had concluded not to do-more for his sake and that of
Moritz's memory, than for her own, for she felt herself pure.
A few years later the count died, after a short,
painless illness. He repeatedly expressed his satisfaction at escaping, here on his lonely estate, the intrusiveness of his Stockholm spiritual adviser, who
considered the strictest Old-Lutheranism the only road
to salvation. To the more unassuming village-pastor
he would have but little to say. But his philosophy
had made him only a deist, not an atheist, and he died
hoping for a reunion, thanking Agatha and Caritas
for having cheered and beautified the evening of his
life by their love and kindness.
14




314             FIFTEEN YEARS.
The countess now returned to- Soderwyk, and the
feeling that she might again cherish Moritz's memory
in her heart in perfect love, without committing a sin,
made her gradually calmer and more cheerful. When,
one evening, Caritas came to her with embarrassed
look and glowing cheeks, and, throwing herself upon
her breast, begged her dear mother to read a letter
which she had received, adding that her life's happiness depended on her reception of it, she could bestow
the warmest sympathy upon her daughter, and dream
over the dream of. love with her once more.
The young, girl had made the acquaintance, in
Italy, of a young Englishman, of noble family, but, as
the third son of a wealthy lord, mostly limited to
earning his livelihood by his mental powers; at any
rate, not in a position to offer his hand to a girl like
Caritas, as long as she was not in possession of her
maternal property. They had parted without a decided explanation, yet not without hope. In Caritas's
heart the separation only had fanned the flickering
flame into the full fire of love; her lover had acted
with more self-consciousness, but- also with the generous resolve not to bind her. During the long. years
of separation, however, he had kept her image in his
heart; and now, when he had acquired an honorable
and independent position, had won esteem as a liberal
political writer, andbecome a member of Parliament,
he asked permission of Caritas to come to Sweden and
win her love.
He came, and a clear ray of happiness once more
illumined Agatha's heart when she saw her daughter
happy. The dear boys, too, grew up into fine youths,




cONCLUSION.              315
and gave her fond heart less occasion for anxiety than
for joy. But nothing could induce her to yield to their
fervent entreaties to accompany them on their journeys through Great Britain, Germany, and France, or
to fulfil Caritas's earnest desire that she should remove
to England with her. She could not and would not'leave the little spot in Soderwyk, which was the home
of her heart. There she lived on for many a quiet,
lonely year. In Soderwyk, too, she died. She wished
to be buried there. The count had died in Rodkrita,
and was interred there in the family-vault of the
Kronhelms. It could therefore hardly be considered
improper, or give occasion for remark, that Caritas,
who had come from England to take care of her
mother during her last illness, had her buried in Soderwyk, where she died. There she inow lies, beside
her beloved husband, and the weeping-willows which
overshadow his grave overshadow her grave too.
THE END.








. X73 ILX 0L "
A NOVEL.
By the Right Honorable BENJAMIN DISRAELI, Late Prime Minister of Great Britain.
"NOsse hsec omnia salus est adolescentulis."-Terentius.
After a silence of twenty-three years (his last work, " Tancred," was pub.
Iished in 1847), this eminent English novelist reappears with a work in his
best style. "Lothair" has all the brilliant wit, the keen and sparkling
satire, and the refined grace, of the most popular of its predecessors. It
deals with current topics of the deepest interest-with Fenianism, Ritualism, the Catholic Question, the intrigues of the Jesuits, etc., etc.
NOTICES OF TlHE PRESS.
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by the whole world, will provoke immense discussion, and will greatly
deepen the interest with which the author's own character, genius, and
career, have long been contemplated by the nation."-London Daily News.
"' Lothair' gives proof of rare originality, versatility, flexibility, force, and
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OLIVER TWIST......172..25 NICHOLAS NICAMERIAN NOTES.104..15        ELEBY.............340..35
DOMBEY & SON.....356..35 LITTLE DORRIT....330.-.35
MARTIN CHIUZZLE-           PICKWICK PAPERS 326..35
WIT.......     342.5 D AVID      COPPEROUR     MU     T  AI L       FIELD.............. 35
FRIEND........... 330..35 BARNABY RUDG:E.257..30
CHRIST]MAS    STO-         OLD CURIOSITY
RIES................162..25  SHOP..............221..30
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