Villa Eden: The Country-House on the Rhine. Auerbach Berthold

the enviable advantage of being able to relate that she had met him yesterday at the island convent; her father had rightly guessed that he was of French descent, for his father had belonged to the immigrating Huguenots, as his name indicated. The apothecary's daughter, who plumed herself highly upon her brother's being a lieutenant, promised to obtain from him more definite information about the captain.

      In her free way, Lina proposed that they should weave a garland and place it unexpectedly on the bare head of the stranger. The wreath was speedily got ready, but no one of the girls, not even Lina, ventured to complete the strange proposal.

      Meanwhile Eric was sitting amidst the circle of ladies, and he expressed his sincere envy of those persons who live among such beautiful natural scenery; they might not always be conscious of it, but it had a bracing influence upon the spirit, and there was a keen sense of loss when removed into less interesting scenes. No one ventured to make any reply, until Bella remarked, – "Praise of the landscape in which we live is a sort of flattery to us, as if we ourselves, our dress, our house, or anything belonging to us, should be praised."

      All assented, although it was not evident whether Bella had expressed approval or disapproval. Then she asked Eric concerning his mother, and as if incidentally, but not without emphasis, alluded to the sudden death of her brother, Baron von Burgholz. Those present knew now that Eric was of partially noble descent. Bella spoke so easily that speaking seemed a wholly secondary matter to her, while seeing and being seen were the things of real importance. She hardly moved a feature in speaking, scarcely even the lips, and only in smiling exhibited a full row of small white teeth.

      Bella knew that Eric was looking at her attentively while he spoke, and composedly as if she stood before a mirror, she offered her face to his gaze. She then introduced Eric, in the most friendly way, to the agreeable head-forester's wife, a fine singer, asking at the same time if he still kept up his singing; he replied that he had been for some years out of practice.

      The evening was unusually sultry, and the air was close and hot over mountain and valley.

      A thunder storm was coming up in the distance. They discussed whether they should wait for the storm at Wolfsgarten or return home immediately. "If the gentlemen were only here to decide." The pleasant forester's lady confessed that she was afraid of a thunder storm.

      "Then you and your sister are in sympathy," said Eric.

      "O," said the sister, "I am not at all afraid."

      "Excuse me; I did not mean you, but the beautiful songstress dwelling here in the thicket. Do you not notice that Mrs. Nightingale, who sang so spiritedly a few moments since, is now suddenly dumb?" All were very merry over this remark, and now each told what she did with herself during a thunder storm.

      "I think," said Eric, "that we can find out not so much the character, as the vegetative life of the brain, the nervous temperament, as it is called, by observing the effect which a thunder storm has upon us. We are so far removed from the life of nature, that when changes take place in the atmosphere that can be heard and seen, we are taken by surprise, as if a voice should suddenly call to us out of the still air, 'Attend! thou art walking and breathing in a world full of mystery!'"

      "Ah, here come the gentlemen!" it was suddenly called out. Two handsome pointers springing into the garden went round and round Pranken's dog, who had been abroad, smelling at him inquiringly, as if they would get out of him the results of his experience. The men came immediately after the dogs.

      Eric immediately recognised Count Clodwig, before his name was mentioned. His fine, well-preserved person, the constant friendliness of expression on his smoothly shaven, elderly face, as yet unwrinkled, – this could be no other than the Count Clodwig von Wolfsgarten; all the rest had grouped themselves around him as a centre, and exhibited a sort of deference, as if he were the prince of the land. He possessed two peculiar characteristics seldom found together: he attracted love, and at the same time commanded homage; and although he never exhibited any aristocratic haughtiness, and treated each one in a friendly and kindly manner, it seemed only a matter of course for him to take the lead.

      When Eric was introduced to him, his countenance immediately lighted up, every feature beaming with happy thoughts. "You are welcome; as the son of my Roman friend you have inherited my friendship," he said, pressing more closely with his left hand the spectacles over his eyes.

      His manner of speaking was so moderate and agreeable that he seemed to be no stranger; while there was in the accent something so calm and measured, that any striking novelty was received from him as something for which you were unconsciously prepared. He had always the same demeanor, a steady composure, and a certain deliberateness, never making haste, having always time enough, and preserving a straight-forward uprightness befitting an old man. When Eric expressed the happiness it gave him to inherit the count's friendship towards his father, and that of the countess towards his mother, a still warmer friendliness beamed from Clodwig's countenance.

      "You have exactly your father's voice," he said. "It was a hard stroke to me when I heard of his death, for I had thought of writing to him for several years, but delayed until it was too late."

      When Eric was introduced now by Clodwig to the rest of the gentlemen, it seemed as if this man invested him with his own dignity. "Here I make you acquainted with a good comrade," said Clodwig, with a significant smile, whilst he introduced him to an old gentleman, having a broad red face, and snow-white hair trimmed very close. "This is our major – Major Grassler."

      The major nodded pleasantly, extending to Eric a hand to which the forefinger was wanting; but the old man could still press strongly the stranger's hand. He nodded again, but said nothing.

      The other gentlemen were also introduced by the count; one of these, a handsome young man, with a dark-brown face and fine beard and moustache, the architect Erhardt, took his leave directly, as he had an appointment at the limestone quarry. The school-director informed Eric that he had been also a pupil of Professor Einsiedel.

      The major was called out of the men's circle by the ladies; they took him to task, the wife of the Justice leading off, for having left them and gone off with the gentlemen, while always before he had been very attentive to the ladies, and their faithful knight. Now he was to make amends.

      The major had just seated himself when the girls placed upon his white head the crown intended for Eric. He nodded merrily, and desired that a mirror should be brought, to see how he looked. He pointed the forefinger of his left hand to Lina, and asked her if that was one of the things she learned at the convent.

      It soon became evident that the major was the target for shafts of wit, a position which some one in every society voluntarily must assume or submit to perforce. The major conferred upon his acquaintance more pleasure than he was aware of, for every one smiled in a friendly way when he was thought of or spoken about.

      A gust of wind came down over the plain; the flag upon the mansion was lowered; the upholstered chairs were speedily put under the covering of the piazza; and all had a feeling of comfort, as they sat sociably together in the well-lighted drawing-room, while the storm raged outside.

      For some time no other subject could be talked about than the storm. The major told of a slight skirmish in which he had been engaged in the midst of the most fearful thunder and lightning; he expressed himself clumsily, but they understood his meaning, how horrible it was for them to be murdering each other, while the heavens were speaking. The Justice told of a young fellow who was about to take a false oath, and had just raised up his hand, when a sudden thunder-clap caused him to drop it, crying out, "I am guilty." The forester added laughing, that a thunder storm was a very nice thing, as the wild game afterwards was very abundant. The school-director gave an exceedingly graphic description of the difficulty of keeping children in the school-room occupied, as one could not continue the ordinary instruction, and yet one did not know what should be done with them.

      All eyes were turned upon Eric as if to inquire what he had to say, and he remarked in an easy tone, – "What here possesses the soul as a raging storm is down there, on the lower Rhine, and above there, in Alsace, a distant heat lightning which cools off the excessive heat of the daytime. People sit there enjoying themselves in gardens and balconies, breathing in the pure air in quiet contemplation. I might say that there