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 of the Library.
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 BY 
 
 MARIE SOPHIE SCHWARTZ. 
 
 front 
 
 SELMA BORG AND MARIE A. BROWN. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 LEE AND SHEPAED, PUBLISHEES. 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 LEE, SHEPARD, AND DILLINGHAM, 
 47 & 49 GREENE STREET. 
 
 1871.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, 
 
 BY LEE AND SHEPABD, 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 UNIVERSITY PRESS : WELCH, BIGELOW, & Ca, 
 CAMBRIDGE.
 
 PT 
 
 Wb3 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 THE BETROTHED. 
 
 THE Spring sun shone clear and glo- 
 rious upon Holmvik, the stately domain 
 belonging to Count Arthur Rubens. Two 
 young girls stood on the balcony, one 
 about nineteen, the other sixteen years 
 of age, and were looking down the ave- 
 nue. It was plain to perceive that they 
 expected some one. 
 
 " Admit, Ellen, that it is very strange 
 that they stay so long at church," said 
 Frb'ken* Ebba Rubens, the Count's daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 " Yes, it is past three o'clock," replied 
 Ellen Kahn, a daughter of Countess Ru- 
 bens's friend, Fru Kahn, who at her death 
 had confided the daughter and her prop- 
 erty to the care of the Count and Count- 
 ess. Count Rubens was consequently 
 the young girl's guardian. 
 
 " Do you think that anything has hap- 
 pened to them 1 ? Perhaps the horses 
 have run away ! " exclaimed Ebba, with 
 childish anxiety. 
 
 "0 no, Aunt and Uncle have probably 
 gone up to Lb'da. Hark ! do you hear 1 
 They are coming now ! " Ellen's cheeks 
 glowed when Ebba exclaimed, 
 
 "Yes, there they are turning into the 
 avenue, and Evert of Ochard rides be- 
 side the carriage." 
 
 Ebba tripped away light as a bird to 
 meet them ; but Ellen remained on the 
 balcony, with her gaze directed toward 
 the advancing carriage, at the left side of 
 .which a young man was riding. The 
 roses came and went on her cheeks. 
 * Aristocratic title for "Miss." 
 
 Before we go further we ought to de- 
 scribe in a few words our heroine's appear- 
 ance. Ellen was tall, with a frame at 
 once slight and yet luxuriant. It might 
 be said that the waist was too small for 
 the full bosom, and the well-rounded 
 shoulders made a strong contrast to the 
 almost humble, swan-like way in which 
 she carried herself. One would have ex- 
 pected this well-developed chest to have 
 a neck supporting the seat of thought 
 with queenly confidence. As it was, the 
 young girl resembled a straight and 
 slender tree, whose rich crown bent be- 
 neath the weight of its foliage. When, 
 the look fell on Ellen's brow, it seemed 
 natural that the neck should not be 
 able to support the full weight of this 
 broad, high, and dreamy forehead that 
 rested so musingly over a pair of large 
 deep blue eyes, eyes which overspread 
 the whole face with their clear heaven. 
 The nose was fine and slightly arched, 
 the mouth small and seriously closed, 
 but when it sometimes opened with a 
 smile it revealed two rows of snow-white 
 teeth. The complexion was pale, yet it 
 did not have the transparent whiteness 
 that is peculiar to blondes, but seemed 
 firm and soft as velvet. Her hair was 
 dark brown, almost black, rich, smooth, 
 and* lustrous. The whole could undeni- 
 ably receive the name of beautiful, but 
 there was a shadow resting over it which 
 took away the youthful bloom and radi- 
 ance that is wont to characterize girls of 
 her age. It was as when a cloud inter- 
 cepts the sun ; one sees its rays break 
 forth, but yet the cloud casts its shadow
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 over the landscape. So with Ellen ; one 
 fancied that such a cloud obscured all 
 the life and fire which ought to have 
 beamed from these eyes, now smiling with 
 so mild and thoughtful an expression. 
 Sometimes it seemed as though the 
 young girl's soul yet slumbered, and as if 
 she had not awakened to the full con- 
 sciousness of the powers that dwelt with- 
 in her. It was life, feeling, and emotion 
 that were wanting in her features, and 
 this deficiency often gave them some- 
 thing expressionless and monotonous; 
 for one always found there the same se- 
 riousness, the same thoughtfulness, the 
 same gentle smile, but never any vivac- 
 
 ity. 
 
 When the Count's carriage stopped be- 
 neath the balcony, and the rider swung 
 himself from his horse to offer the Count- 
 ess his arm and conduct her up the steps, 
 Ellen went into the saloon. She had 
 entered it with a certain slowness, as if 
 irresolute; but when the Countess was 
 seen at the door, she hastened gladly to- 
 wards her, saying with her mild, serious 
 smil, 
 
 " How long you stayed, Aunt ! " 
 
 Countess Emy Rubens, a stately, fine- 
 looking woman of about forty, with a 
 well-preserved beauty and a proud, noble 
 bearing, embraced the young girl lov- 
 ingly. 
 
 " We were detained by the Kerners. 
 But here I stand and bar the way to 
 one who is extremely impatient to see 
 you again after a separation of three 
 whole days." 
 
 " An eternity for a lover," added Count 
 Rubens, who also entered, followed by 
 Ebba and a twelve-year-old heir to. his 
 name. 
 
 Ellen hastened to greet the Count, and 
 allowed the young man to stand there 
 waiting. Finally she offered him her 
 hand with downcast eyes and a deep 
 color in her cheeks. 
 
 Justice Evert of Ochard had been be- 
 trothed to Ellen three months. It was 
 
 considered, and rightly, as a marriage of 
 love, at least on the young girl's side, for 
 the Justice was without property. 
 
 The son of an old medical counsellor 
 with four children, Evert had no pros- 
 pects of an inheritance. Ellen, on the 
 contrary, was a very wealthy girl, and 
 even at the age of seventeen could have 
 chosen a husband from some of the 
 higher families ; but the noble suitors 
 did not seem to please the young girl, 
 while Evert, on the other hand, had 
 awakened her interest at their first 
 meeting, which occurred at Count Ru- 
 bens's in Stockholm a year and a half 
 before. 
 
 The Justice's father had been Count 
 Rubens's family physician for more than 
 thirty years, and the son was therefore 
 treated with especial favor by Count Ar- 
 thur, who invited him to spend the sum- 
 mer at Holmvik. The daily intercourse 
 did not diminish her fancy for Evert, 
 and when the family again passed the 
 winter in the capital, no one doubted 
 that the Justice would be her choice. 
 Their betrothal was celebrated in the 
 month of March, so that Ellen returned 
 to Holmvik as & fiancee. 
 
 The Justice had been away in the 
 neighborhood for two or three days, and 
 now, after this long separation, returned 
 to Holmvik with the noble family. 
 
 Countess Emy had observed Ellen 
 when the young lover greeted his be- 
 trothed, and a shadow passed over her 
 face when she sought in vain for a trace 
 of lively joy in her daughter's calm 
 features. Emy turned away and sighed. 
 
 " Ah, Ellen," whispered Evert, " it 
 looks as if you did not feel the pain of 
 this short and yet long absence as much 
 as I." 
 
 " And why do you think so 1 " 
 
 "With a heart beating with impa- 
 tience have I been compelled to wait for 
 a greeting from you whom I love so 
 deeply." 
 
 " Forgive me ! " Ellen offered him her
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 brow to kiss, " but do not doubt my 
 affection or the warmth of my feelings, 
 even if my manner seems cold. It is a 
 peculiarity with me never to clothe what 
 I feet in words." 
 
 " Not even to give your glance an 
 expression of what your heart experi- 
 ences." One could tell by his voice that 
 he felt dissatisfied. 
 
 " I do not know what my eyes say ; 
 I only know what my heart feels." 
 
 " And you are convinced that this 
 heart loves me 1 " 
 
 " Can you doubt it 1 " 
 
 Evert's answer failed to come, for the 
 announcement of dinner left no time for 
 it. He hastened to conduct the Count- 
 ess to the table. 
 
 In the afternoon the whole family 
 were assembled in the stately pavilion, 
 the glass doors of which were open, and 
 they sat in a saloon filled with the fra- 
 grance of flowers, while the glorious sum- 
 mer breeze streamed through it, diffusing 
 a balmy exhalation from the blooming 
 lindens. Through an opening in the 
 park, far in the distance, the blue 
 boundless ocean could be seen. 
 
 Ebba played a wild galop on the piano. 
 Emy was conversing with the Justice in 
 a low tone, and Ellen sat in an easy-chair, 
 with her gaze directed towards the sea. 
 Her whole appearance indicated complete 
 abstraction. She seemed to have for- 
 gotten everything around her and to be 
 absorbed in dreams. 
 
 " I fear," said Countess Emy to the 
 Justice, " that a longer study of Ellen's 
 character and peculiarities is required 
 than that afforded by a six months' en- 
 gagement, if you would not risk both 
 her future and your own ; therefore I 
 consider it wisest for you to postpone 
 your marriage another year." 
 
 "Is it Ellen's cause that you are now 
 pleading] Is it she who desires this 
 
 postponement 1 " asked Evert, in a some- 
 what resentful voice. 
 
 " No, my friend. Had Ellen desired 
 to postpone your union, she would have 
 told you so herself, without taking the 
 roundabout way of asking me to do it. 
 There again is a proof that you do not 
 know your betrothed, when you do not 
 even comprehend the most prominent 
 trait in her character, namely, her un- 
 common frankness." 
 
 ' " In truth I cannot think that you 
 are right ; for to me Ellen appears re- 
 served, often impossible to comprehend." 
 
 "But say, have you ever heard an 
 untrue word pass those serious lips 1 
 Are not all her answers so frank that 
 one sometimes becomes confused ? " 
 
 " That I admit, so much the more as 
 it was just this which captivated me ; 
 but if I now went to Ellen and asked 
 her, 'What are you thinking of?' what 
 do you imagine she would answer 1 " 
 
 " She would give you her hand, smile 
 and say, " Forgive me, but it is impossi- 
 ble for me to explain my thoughts to 
 you.'" 
 
 "Yes, that would certainly be her 
 reply. But what then is she thinking 
 of ] It is not of me at least ; not of me, 
 whom she says she loves, and who 
 adores her. What then can it be 1 When 
 we love, the object of our love is also the 
 object of all our thoughts, dreams, and 
 feelings." 
 
 " You are right, and therefore I say, 
 Ellen is an enigma which you need time 
 to solve, and before you solve it you 
 ought not to unite yourself to her in- 
 dissolubly." 
 
 " No, Aunt, when Ellen becomes my 
 wife, then is the- enigma solved, and 
 these vague reveries will vanish before 
 the mate's love." 
 
 Company was now announced, and the 
 next moment Count Oscar Kerner and 
 the Countess Sappho entered. The ap- 
 pearance of both indicated peace and 
 happiness. After them came Frb'ken Alma
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 Kerner, their daughter, aged fifteen, 
 accompanied by a young man of about 
 twenty-eight and a Lieutenant Henrico. 
 They were welcomed in the heartiest 
 manner, and Count Oscar introduced the 
 young man to Emy. 
 
 " Allow me, dear Emy," said he, " to 
 make you acquainted with my cousin, 
 Count Uno Kerner, the son of my uncle, 
 the envoy to Spain. Born and brought 
 up in that country, he has now for the 
 first time seen his fatherland. He is 
 thus to be regarded more as a Spaniard 
 than a Swede, especially as his mother 
 was Spanish." 
 
 Emy and Arthur bade the young man 
 a cordial welcome in French, but Count 
 Uno replied in Swedish, 
 
 " My father has preserved too lively a 
 love for the soil of his forefathers to 
 allow his son to grow up as a stranger to 
 the land which he will always regard and 
 love as his fatherland, and at this mo- 
 ment I feel doubly proud of it when I 
 stand in the midst of my noble rela- 
 tives." 
 
 Emy presented to him the Justice, 
 Ellen, and her children; Uno's glance 
 tarried a second on Ellen, and then rested 
 upon Ebba's fresh and animated face, 
 where joy and innocence beamed in every 
 feature. The maiden of sixteen was a 
 beautiful and living image of Spring. 
 
 In a short time Baron G s arrived 
 
 with a whole troop of young people, 
 beside Pastor Wendborg with his wife 
 and two sons. 
 
 Ellen, who was quite hastily snatched 
 from her dreams, was now obliged, as the 
 eldest, to be the hostess to the youthful 
 portion, assisted by Ebba and the 
 Justice. 
 
 The young people had been dancing, 
 and now went out doors to rest and de- 
 vise some games. 
 
 The Justice proposed one which con- 
 sisted in each person's being presented 
 v/ith a flower, a word, or any article, and 
 all those who received anything were to 
 
 recite something appropriate or tell a 
 story. Ebba went around and whispered 
 to those participating in the game the 
 name of the object which she gave 
 them. When they had each received 
 something, the first one, who was Count- 
 ess Kerner, mentioned what had been 
 bestowed upon her, namely, a white rose, 
 and then added a very neat verse over 
 it. So it went around the circle, and 
 each one had given a more or less appro- 
 priate motto for what they had obtained. 
 It now became Count Uno's turn. 
 
 "I received the words, 'my father- 
 land,' " whereupon he added a verse. 
 
 Ellen came last. The young girl had 
 sat absorbed in thought the whole time, 
 not following the course of the game, 
 until Ebba cried : " Well, Ellen, what 
 have you to say about your ' memory.' " 
 Ellen rose with a completely absent look, 
 and slowly stroked away her hair ; then 
 she went to Countess Emy. With a 
 strangely sweet and melodious voice she 
 improvised a little poem over the word. 
 It was as if the beautiful poetic words 
 had floated over her lips without her 
 being aware of it. The wild mirth which 
 had greeted all previous verses was 
 stilled, and they listened, mute and sur- 
 prised. The revelation was so rare, that 
 most of the company took for granted 
 that Ellen had recited a poem learned by 
 rote ; but the more clear-sighted per- 
 ceived plainly that the words issued from 
 her own heart, for they were addressed 
 to Emy and related to the sweet memo- 
 ries of Ellen's childhood and the mother 
 she had lost. 
 
 When she ceased, she remained before 
 Emy with the dreamy gaze fastened 
 upon her, and completely unmindful of 
 the fact that she was in the midst of so 
 many people. 
 
 " Thanks, my child," said Emy gently, 
 and rising she pressed a kiss upon her 
 foster-daughter's brow. The Countess's 
 words broke the silence, and Ellen soon 
 saw herself surrounded and overwhelmed
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 with praise from all sides. The sound 
 of it freed her from the spell under which 
 her soul had been bound. She blushed 
 and bent down her head with such a shy 
 motion, that one saw plainly how much 
 she desired to escape all this attention. 
 
 Emy, who perceived Ellen's embarrass- 
 ment, and knew full well the peculiarity 
 of her disposition, hastened to turn the 
 attention from her by proposing a walk. 
 During the promenade Count Uno had 
 offered Emy his arm and asked, 
 
 "Were the verses which the young 
 lady recited composed by herself for the 
 occasion or by some one else ? " 
 
 "They were not composed at all," 
 replied Emy, smiling. "Ellen has the 
 fortune, or misfortune, whichever you 
 will, of being an improvisatrice. This 
 comes from an over-excited fancy, which 
 I try to counteract, but cannot succeed 
 in overcoming." 
 
 " It is a singular condition, which one 
 seldom finds, except with the fiery peo- 
 ple of the South. But -allow me to make 
 an objection : a person improvises who 
 receives a theme quite unexpectedly and 
 immediately composes a poem upon it." 
 
 "Well, I fancy that Ellen did some- 
 thing similar to this just now." 
 
 " In a certain sense, yes ; but she had, 
 however, nearly half an hour in which to 
 think out these four or five verses." 
 
 " If I did not make it a rule to give as 
 little nourishment and exercise as possi- 
 ble to this natural proclivity of Ellen's, I 
 would ask you, my cousin, to give her a 
 subject, and you would with surprise 
 hear her improvise upon it." 
 
 "Ah! make an exception and allow 
 me to witness a marvel which I have 
 certainly heard spoken of, but never be- 
 lieved in." 
 
 " Not this evening. I should not be 
 able to prevail upon her to do it, sur- 
 rounded by all these wondering eyes." 
 
 " But she improvised awhile ago." 
 
 " Ah, my cousin, then she had forgot- 
 ten that there were several here besides 
 
 herself and me. You doubt. If you, 
 like me, had known this singular nature 
 from childhood, you would doubt no 
 longer. I promise that you shall have a 
 proof of her talent to-morrow ; for I pre- 
 sume you will stay with us a few days 
 with the Kerners, as they promised." 
 
 All the company had departed, with the 
 exception of the Kerners, who had now 
 gone to their rooms. Emy and Ellen 
 were alone in the saloon. 
 
 The latter had thrown her arms around 
 the Countess's neck and leaned her head 
 against hers. 
 
 " Ellen, you are unhappy this evening." 
 
 "Yes! a peculiar disquietude comes 
 over me when I forget myself as I have 
 done this evening, and allow fancy to 
 carry me away without being able to 
 restrain my transport." ' 
 
 "And I believed that this transport 
 made you happy." 
 
 "For the moment, yes; but after- 
 wards, afterwards I stand there so alone, 
 and I feel such a void in my heart." 
 
 " A void in your heart, now when you 
 love?" 
 
 " Ah, yes ; who besides you understands 
 Ellen 1 ? Why am I not like others at 
 my age 1 " Ellen sighed. 
 
 " Because God has at once endowed 
 you more richly and more poorly than 
 others. But do you know, my child, I 
 am afraid that your fancy, not your 
 heart, loves Evert. Consider, Ellen, if 
 you should one day discover that you 
 had mistaken your feeling for him, and 
 you were then forever bound to a man 
 whom you did not love." 
 
 " I have examined my heart, and this 
 examination has shown me that I am 
 attached to Evert with a true and sin- 
 cere affection." 
 
 "Affection?" repeated Emy. 
 
 "Yes, that is the right word. I have 
 never been able to comprehend those
 
 8 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 violent impressions, those surging feelings 
 which are called love. That which at- 
 taches me to Evert is, as I have just 
 said, a true and deep affection. Believe 
 me, my fancy has usurped too large a 
 place in my soul for my heart to enter- 
 tain any powerful passion. Besides, the 
 education which you and my mother 
 have given me has been calculated to 
 repress all extremes. In the calm circle 
 in which I have lived there has been 
 nothing to fire my feelings. How piti- 
 able should I not be if passion had 
 gained a foothold in my breast and be- 
 come the leader of my imagination ! " 
 
 " God grant, Ellen, that you now 
 judge yourself rightly, and that the 
 liveliness of feeling which your mother 
 and I tried to abate may not again be 
 awakened in your breast." 
 
 "No, you have placed a watchman 
 over my passions that will always control 
 and direct them, and which will make 
 me bear the trials that are sent me with 
 courage and trust ; this watchman is the 
 fear of God." 
 
 Emy embraced the young girl with 
 emotion and whispered, 
 
 " Thanks, my Ellen for these words." 
 
 The next morning Ebba came in to 
 Ellen while she was dressing. 
 
 "Well, how do you like Count Uno?" 
 inquired Ebba. "I had no chance to 
 speak to you last night, and I could 
 scarcely go to sleep, only because you 
 had not told me what you thought of 
 him." 
 
 " How childish you are, Ebba ! To 
 think of such trifles when you go to 
 sleep ! " 
 
 "Ah, I know well enough what you 
 mean to say. You think that I forgot to 
 say my prayers. No, certainly not ; but 
 you see, Ellen, I never know what I 
 ought to think of a person until you 
 have told me your opinion." 
 
 " And yet we so often think different- 
 
 iy." 
 
 " That comes from the fact that you 
 think more of what is serious, even tire- 
 some, and I of what is cheerful and 
 pleasant ; but still, I can never get a 
 definite idea of a person before I know 
 your impressions. Now tell me, what do 
 you think of his appearance ] " 
 
 " Not much. I could almost say that 
 he is ugly." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, dreadfully ugly." 
 
 " Now you go to the extreme, Ebba," 
 returned Ellen, smiling. 
 
 " Dear me, is it an extreme to call a 
 person ugly who has copper-colored skin 
 and blue-black hair, a nose hooked like a 
 bird's bill, a mouth, which ought to be 
 called ' Ginungagap ' " 
 
 " B\it with beautiful teeth and a pleas- 
 ant smile." 
 
 " And eyes like portholes with can- 
 nons' mouths in them." 
 
 " The eyes are black, intelligent, and 
 mild." 
 
 " Yes beautiful ! to me he seems like a 
 negro." 
 
 " A negro with an aquiline nose 1 " 
 
 " Well, why not 1 have n't negroes the 
 right to have aquiline noses 1 I would 
 just like to know what should hinder 
 them. But we will not talk any more 
 about his looks, for if I go on, then," 
 Ebba began to laugh, " then you will 
 lecture me and say, ' Good God, Ebba, 
 how foolish yoii are ! ' ' 
 
 " That might all happen," said Ellen, 
 also laughing. 
 
 "Yes, it is pretty certain. But we 
 ought not to judge people by their ap- 
 pearance," added Ebba, quite seriously ; 
 " no one is to blame for being ugly, and 
 I am real wicked to laugh at those who 
 are." 
 
 "Therefore we will speak no more 
 about the Count's appearance." 
 
 "No, as we cannot make him any 
 handsomer. But it is so pleasant to see 
 those who are beautiful. 0, how I
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 love to look at Alma Kerner. She is so 
 lovely ! " said Ebba, clapping her hands 
 with delight. 
 
 "And good and amiable." 
 
 " Yes, she is not such a giddy pate as 
 I. But you like me for all that ? " Ebba 
 leaned her head to one side and looked at 
 Ellen. 
 
 " Very, very much." 
 
 " More than your betrothed 1 " 
 
 " Not more, but as much." 
 ^ " Good ! but now tell me how did that 
 ugly Uno appear to you ? " 
 
 " It seemed to me that he had an 
 agreeable manner, spoke well, and looked 
 good." 
 
 " I suppose you are right ; but you see 
 I don't like him at all. Yes, do you 
 know, Ellen, I was real angry with him, 
 and had such bad feelings when I went 
 to bed, that I was fairly afraid of myself." 
 
 " But for what cause 1 " 
 
 " I know well enough." 
 
 " Then tell me what it is." 
 
 " Well, Ellen, he thought that you re- 
 cited a piece when you improvised, and 
 it provoked me, and then I heard him 
 say to Henrico that you had a soulless 
 expression. Fie ! how wicked the person 
 must be who could speak so of you ! To 
 be soulless is not to be good ; and you, 
 you are certainly good if any one is." 
 
 " Ah, Ebba darling, now your feelings 
 are running away with you again ; you are 
 much more wicked in getting angry with 
 him than he is in simply expressing his 
 opinion about a person's looks." Ellen 
 had not time to say more, for the door 
 opened and a curly brown head peeped 
 in, while a sweet, glad voice inquired, 
 
 " May I come in "? " 
 
 " Certainly, Alma," cried the two girls, 
 and Alma Kerner entered. 
 
 In the afternoon the whole company 
 were assembled in the pavilion. Ebba, 
 Alma, and young Arthur had made a 
 
 pilgrimage up to the doves. The Justice 
 was talking with Counts Kerner and 
 Kubens. Ellen was helping Aunt Sap- 
 pho to start a new pattern in crochet, 
 while Henrico held a skein of worsted for 
 Countess Emy. 
 
 " So, Count, you consider the ability 
 to improvise mythical," said the Justice. 
 
 " I confess that I doubt this capacity, 
 for even the greatest genius requires re- 
 flection to be able to link his thoughts 
 together in rhyme and metre." 
 
 " And yet," joined in Arthur, " I can 
 immediately produce a proof that such 
 an ability exists." 
 
 " Yes. my betrothed possesses that kind 
 of genius," said the Justice with anima- 
 tion. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Kahn] " inquired Uno. 
 
 " If we dared to ask Ellen, you would 
 really be astonished," said Count Oscar 
 Kerner ; " but perhaps Emy will not al- 
 low it ] " added he as he turned to Ar- 
 thur. Before the latter had time to re- 
 ply, Uno said, 
 
 "I obtained the Countess's promise 
 yesterday to afford me a proof that would 
 remove all my doubts." 
 
 Arthur went to Ellen, saying, 
 
 " Improvise a little for us, my child ; 
 by so doing you will afford Uncle Oscar 
 and me great pleasure." 
 
 Ellen looked at Emy, as if to ask her 
 what answer she ought to give ; but Emy 
 smilingly nodded her consent. Then 
 Ellen rose and said with a slight blush, 
 
 " Upon what theme 1 " 
 
 " Count Uno has desired to be allowed 
 to give you one." 
 
 Ellen looked at Uno, who regarded her 
 with more curiosity than interest. Her 
 willingness and composure excited his 
 surprise. Uno approached the young 
 girl and said with a smile, 
 
 " Pardon the boldness to which my 
 curiosity leads me ; but I should be ex- 
 tremely indebted to you if you would 
 deign to improvise some lines upon 
 the doubter."
 
 10 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 Ellen bowed her head affirmatively, and 
 closing her eyes she remained standing 
 in this way some minutes ; then she 
 began, first with a slow and afterwards 
 more animated voice, to recite in rhyme 
 a description of the doubter's unhappi- 
 ness, of the night which rests over his 
 soul. Next she pictured everything that 
 ought to speak to his heart, quicken his 
 faith, and lead him to God. A tone of 
 true poesy and glowing feeling prevailed 
 in her representation, which charmed and 
 impressed, so that she captivated her 
 hearers and carried them with her either 
 with or against their will. 
 
 Uno's gaze had not for an instant left 
 Ellen's face, and it was singular to fol- 
 low its changes. First it was suffused 
 with a brilliant blush, and her eyes were 
 fastened upon the Count without seem- 
 ing to see him. Gradually they lighted 
 \ip, the color disappeared, a complete 
 -paleness overspread her face, while her 
 look, when she spoke of God's goodness 
 and the greatness of his work, acquired 
 an expression of actual inspiration. 
 These marble-pale features then beamed 
 with ecstasy and enthusiasm. 
 
 When Ellen came nearer the close her 
 voice died away into a whisper, and she 
 sank down upon a chair. All remained 
 silent a moment. Sappho was the first 
 who, with her natural liveliness, thanked 
 her. At the sound of her voice Ellen 
 rose again, and a fine color returned to 
 her cheeks. 
 
 Count Uno advanced to her. 
 
 " To doubt now would be to doubt 
 the manifold wonders of God, and such a 
 doubter I am not. My gratitude can 
 only be equalled by the admiration your 
 genius awakens." 
 
 The Justice swam in an ocean of de- 
 light at all the praise that was lavished 
 upon his betrothed. 
 
 Later in the evening they conversed 
 about various original traits of character. 
 Uno said, 
 
 " Singularly enough, the original does 
 
 not strike me. I do not love those who 
 deviate from the usual measure of human 
 perfection. They appear to me, these 
 originals, like trees which, instead of 
 growing straight as nature intended, take 
 a gnarled and crooked form." 
 
 " This may hold good with originals 
 in character, but not with original genius- 
 es," said Sappho. " Before genius we 
 must always bend with admiration." 
 
 " Excuse me, dear Sappho, if I do not 
 perfectly agree with you," replied Uno. 
 " Genius certainly impresses my intellect, 
 but not my heart, for persons of genius 
 are just those who lack heart. What do 
 domestic joys signify to them, that quiet 
 and beautiful happiness which springs up 
 from the soil of the heart 1 What is love 
 itself to them ? Only a bit of finery with 
 which they adorn their genius, not a feel- 
 ing indispensable to their life. Is the 
 poet as noble a person, as tender and 
 faithful a mate, as he is a skilful delinea- 
 tor of all that is beautiful and adorable 
 in the human heart 1 ? No. His fancy 
 depicts what his soul never felt. And 
 the learned genius, who analyzes our 
 passions, who dissects our thoughts and 
 anatomizes all the workings of the soul, 
 is he anything but a cold inquirer who 
 is so absorbed in his learned investiga- 
 tions that his heart has dried up and is 
 not able to beat for his fellow-beings, 
 either with friendship or compassion ] 
 Genius breeds pride, pride egotism, and 
 egotism kills all true feeling. I have far 
 greater admiration for those who are en- 
 dowed with goodness of soul, with warmth 
 and fire of heart, even if they are desti- 
 tute of genius. The poet is to me a 
 shining meteor and nothing else." 
 
 " My friend, you have nearly stifled 
 me with your arguments," exclaimed 
 Sappho, " and I am burning with impa- 
 tience to tell you that you make a 
 cruel mistake ; for it is just this exuber- 
 ance and ardor of feeling which fosters 
 the poet ; love for humanity and enlight- 
 enment produces the learned man. And
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 11 
 
 it is lack of egotism that makes him sac- 
 rifice life and health to his researches, in 
 order to benefit his contemporaries and 
 posterity. I go so far as to assert that 
 the faults and mistakes in life of both 
 the learned and poetic geniuses proceed 
 just from too much heart. There is no 
 genius without feeling, for then it has 
 ceased to be genius. What do we mean by 
 this word, if not a richly endowed soul ? " 
 
 " Certainly ; but we mean by it only 
 intellectual superiority. Mirabeau was 
 no less a genius for being a volatile and 
 dissolute person ; but neither does genius 
 excuse these failings. And for this rea- 
 son I love moral superiority more, and 
 would rather kneel before the good than 
 before the gifted." 
 
 "Acknowledge at least that you are 
 transported by what is gifted and beau- 
 tiful]" 
 
 " Yes, if it is combined with virtue 
 and goodness ; otherwise it lacks all 
 value for me." 
 
 " Take care, Uno," said Sappho, laugh- 
 ing, " you are now trying to be original 
 yourself." 
 
 " Not at all. A proof of this is that 
 that picture charms and delights me," 
 said he in a whisper, pointing to Ebba 
 and Alma, who were playing ball ; 
 " while my heart remained cold and in- 
 sensible to all the beautiful things ut- 
 tered by the young improvisatrice." 
 
 " Hush ! " said Sappho, and looked 
 around her, but, as she did not see Ellen, 
 she added : " But do you know that El- 
 len herself is a proof that goodness of 
 heart accompanies genius, for I know no 
 one so good, so merciful to her kind, as 
 she." 
 
 " Possibly ; but this goodness is a 
 result of ideality, not of an innate need 
 of being good. Regard her face closely, 
 and you will be astonished at the cold- 
 ness in it. It has a passive mildness, 
 an empty, absent expression ; in a word, 
 it indicates a soul that is swayed by its 
 dreams, not by its feelings, and which 
 
 looks down with a spiritual pride upon 
 all that generally gladdens youth. The 
 girl is a genius, I admit; but her 
 heart is dried up by an unrestrained im- 
 agination which makes her incapable of 
 being happy herself or of spreading joy 
 around her. Do you believe, Sappho,' 
 that her husband can be happy at the 
 side of a being who possesses nothing in 
 common with us others, but lives and 
 idealizes in the kingdom of fancy ? 
 What domestic comfort can she produce, 
 who will never be able to conceive of the 
 felicity of domestic life 1 How inferior 
 must not the love be which she bestows 
 upon her husband, when her soul only 
 dreams of what reality does not possess. 
 No, this genius which charms and trans- 
 ports you, and which makes this Ellen a 
 wonder to you, awakens with me only a 
 painful impression, and every word of 
 praise which I am compelled to accord 
 her ability to improvise, excites my aver- 
 sion. How much more ravishing would 
 she not be if one saw in her the innocent 
 vivacity of youth, instead of this genius 
 continually striving for applause, con- 
 cealed under dissembled modesty ! " 
 
 While Uno was speaking, Ellen had 
 entered without either he or Sappho 
 being aware of it. She had approached 
 the table at which Sappho was sitting to 
 get a book that lay there, but stopped a 
 moment unavoidably when she heard her 
 name mentioned. Something extremely 
 painful was felt within the yonng girl 
 when she listened to Uno's severe judg- 
 ment, and she took a step back in order 
 to steal away without being observed by 
 the speakers, when Count Arthur, who 
 was on the other side of the room, but 
 opposite to Ellen, exclaimed, 
 
 " What is the matter with you, Ellen, 
 you are so pale ] " 
 
 At his words Uno and Sappho turned 
 quickly, and Ellen stood behind them. 
 When Uno looked at her, their eyes met. 
 Poor Ellen's glance was so sorrowful that 
 it made a painful impression upon the
 
 12 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 Count. She turned her eyes from him 
 immediately and directed them to Ar- 
 thur. 
 
 " I am \vell, dear Uncle," said she. 
 With this she took the book and intend- 
 ed to leave the saloon ; but Sappho bade 
 her stay and offered her hand kindly. 
 
 " Sing something for us," said she. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Kahn sings also ? " 
 asked Uno. 
 
 ''Yes, but not this evening," replied 
 Ellen, and now raised her lowered head. 
 
 " If I ask you, child, then you cannot 
 say no," said Sappho heartily. 
 
 Ellen carried her hand to her lips with 
 a charming motion, and answered smil- 
 ing : " This evening I should say no, 
 even if Aunt Emy asked me." 
 
 " The reason, my little Ellen ? " 
 
 "We are too many." 
 
 " That is not an acceptable excuse, for 
 you have never refused to sing for us 
 before when we have been together so 
 familiarly." 
 
 " That is true, but we were then not 
 so many as this evening," said Ellen. 
 * " My sweet child, th^re have been 
 still more of us." 
 
 " Possibly, but at least not the same 
 who are here now." 
 
 Sappho colored a little, but smiled. 
 Uno had stood silent the whole time. 
 Now he said, 
 
 " There is one too many this evening, 
 and on account of this one you will not 
 sing. Am I not right, Mademoiselle 
 Kahiil" 
 
 " Perfectly right." 
 
 "And who is the unhappy person 1 ?" 
 asked Sappho, laughing. 
 
 " Yes, tell us who it is that you would 
 like to exclude," said Uno, with an al- 
 most sarcastic smile, for he thought that 
 the question would place Ellen in em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 " You, Count ! " answered Ellen di- 
 rectly, but with a certain trembling in 
 her voice. 
 
 " Good God, Ellen ! what is that you 
 
 say?" burst out the Justice. He had 
 come in during the latter part of the 
 conversation. 
 
 "The truth," said Ellen, as she left 
 them. Sappho and Uno exchanged a 
 glance. The Justice then found himself 
 obliged to say to Uno, 
 
 " You must not judge my betrothed 
 too severely, Herr Count ; her words 
 sometimes sound strange, but she never 
 means to wound. For the rest I shall 
 immediately persuade her to sing, if the 
 Countess and Count so desire." 
 
 "It is entirely unnecessary to try to 
 excuse Ellen," said Sappho with spirit 
 and a slight shade of hauteur. " She is 
 such a superior girl that she is never 
 guilty of anything which is not right." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "You do not know the reason of 
 Ellen's conduct ; what use is it then to 
 speak of it ] I find her behavior perfectly 
 right, and it has only increased my re- 
 spect for her." Sappho rose, and Uno 
 turned politely to the Justice, saying, 
 
 " I assure you that the truth can 
 never wound me, and I stand in debt to 
 Mademoiselle Kahn fof expressing it so 
 freely." He then began to speak of in- 
 different matters, but a cloud of displeas- 
 ure rested on the Justice's face. 
 
 When Sappho left Uno and the Jus- 
 tice she went to look tip Ellen. She 
 found her in the garden, sitting on a 
 mossy bank,- with her head leaning 
 against a tree and her face bathed in 
 tears. 
 
 " Why, Ellen, you are weeping 1 " ex- 
 claimed Sappho when she saw her. 
 
 " Yes, I am weeping, weeping from 
 indignation and pain." 
 
 " Over what 1 " 
 
 " That any one should consider me 
 affected. What gives Count Uno the 
 right to so judge me 1 He does not 
 know me, and yet he dares to cast a
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 13 
 
 shadow upon my character." Ellen 
 looked at Sappho with flashing eyes. 
 Her face was not soulless now, as one 
 usually said of it. 
 
 " My child, he has not wished to cast 
 any shadow upon your character ; he 
 has only expressed his views to me with 
 regard to poetic temperaments in gen- 
 eral. These views are false in themselves, 
 and as far as you in particular are con- 
 cerned entirely unjust." 
 
 " You wish to excuse him. Has he 
 not said that I ' strove for applause ' ? " 
 
 " But as you do not, you can laugh at 
 such an assertion," said Sappho, patting 
 Ellen on the cheek. 
 
 " It seems to me as if this expression 
 of his had made me worse ; my heart is 
 filled with bitterness and resentment 
 over the injustice of his judgment, and 
 at this moment I am not good." 
 
 " Not good 1 " Sappho smiled. " Would 
 you actually wish to do him any harm "? " 
 
 " No ; but I would force him to ac- 
 knowledge that he has judged me 
 wrongly." 
 
 Emy and the Justice now approached 
 them. 
 
 " What are you talking about 1 Ellen 
 looks quite disturbed," said Emy. 
 
 " About Uno," answer'ed Ellen. 
 
 " Then it does not surprise me that 
 you are disturbed," replied Emy, smil- 
 ing ; " for Ochard has mentioned to me 
 that you have been so frank as to declare 
 that Uno was one person too many when 
 you were to sing. Fie, fie, Ellen darling ! 
 this time you entirely forgot the claims 
 of politeness." 
 
 "But not the claims of truth," said 
 Sappho ; " and as truth is worth consid- 
 erably more than politeness, Ellen was 
 right and you wrong to speak further of 
 the matter, about which I besides imme- 
 diately expressed my opinion." Some- 
 thing of Sappho's haughty tone was 
 shadowed forth in these words ; but as 
 if she repented it she added jestingly, 
 " And besides, it is not polite of you 
 
 to give the lie to my judgment through 
 an appeal to Emy." 
 
 " My gracious Lady, that was never 
 my intention ; I bow myself in the dust 
 before your superiority." 
 
 " And then fall on your knees before 
 Ellen and confess that you cruelly tres- 
 passed against her, when you told 
 tales." Sappho raised her finger threat- 
 eningly. 
 
 The Justice laughingly bent his knee 
 before his betrothed, who with a gentle 
 smile gave him her hand. 
 
 The next day there was a little party 
 at Holmvik. It was Ebba's sixteenth 
 birthday, and all the young people in the 
 neighborhood were invited to celebrate 
 the occasion. Where young folks are to 
 have a good time, there must be dancing, 
 and they danced to their hearts' content. 
 During one of the resting spells, Oscar 
 Kerner said to Ellen, 
 
 " Well, Ellen, will you not improvise 
 some lines in Ebba's honor 1 " 
 
 Not far from Oscar stood Uno. At 
 this question of the Count, he turned and 
 looked at Ellen. 
 
 " No, dear Uncle, I cannot do it," an- 
 swered she, blushing. 
 
 " It would certainly make Ebba very 
 glad if you expressed your friendship for 
 her in a few cordial words." 
 
 " Ebba knows full well how deeply I 
 love her, and no words are needed to 
 convince her of it." 
 
 " But you would afford us all a pleas- 
 ure by so doing. Child, I beg. you to do 
 it." Oscar took Ellen's hand and looked 
 at her kindly. 
 
 "If we were alone, I would instantly 
 oblige you ; not now." 
 
 Uno approached. 
 
 " If we should all join in the request, 
 would you still say no 1 " 
 
 "Yes, most assuredly." 
 
 In a moment Ellen was surrounded by
 
 14 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 a whole bevy, who in all possible tones 
 entreated her to improvise ; but Ellen 
 remained inexorable. 
 
 The Justice whispered one warm pray- 
 er after another in her ear, but without 
 success. Even Arthur and Emy begged 
 the young girl to listen to these united 
 prayers, but she persisted in her refusal, 
 and finally hastened away. Evert fol- 
 lowed her. When she came into Emy's 
 cabinet, she turned round, 
 
 " Is that you, Evert 1 " said she. 
 
 " Ellen, why this decided refusal, when 
 you could so easily do what they ask of 
 you and thereby make me happy ] " said 
 Evert, seizing her hand. 
 
 " Do you absolutely wish to hear me 
 improvise 1 " 
 
 " What a question ! I who begged 
 you to do it so fervently." 
 
 "Very well, Evert, I promise to im- 
 provise as much as you wish to-morrow, 
 when we are alone." 
 
 "Beloved Ellen, you must do it this 
 evening. Ah ! if you knew how my 
 heart swells with pride and joy when 
 they gather around you to render you 
 their homage. If you could realize how 
 happy this praise which is lavished upon 
 you makes me, you would not deny me 
 the enjoyment of seeing you the object 
 of general admiration and of knowing 
 that this distinguished girl is my betrothed. 
 Ellen, I conjure you ! show me your love 
 by yielding to the entreaties that have 
 been made you. Sacrifice for my sake 
 the caprice which induced you to refuse 
 them." Evert had fallen upon his knees 
 before Ellen and covered her hands with 
 kisses. 
 
 Ellen bent down to him, pressed her 
 lips to his brow, and whispered, 
 
 " Do not beg me, dear Evert, I cannot 
 fulfil you prayer." 
 
 Evert remained yet a moment and 
 continued to beseech her ; but when 
 Ellen still refused, he rose and said, 
 
 "Ah ! I see now how little you love 
 me. What sort of a love is that which 
 
 cannot even sacrifice a caprice for the 
 beloved one 1 " And with this he left her. 
 
 Ellen let him go without trying to 
 mollify him with a single word. She 
 threw herself down in an easy-chair and 
 buried her face in her hands. 
 
 This little scene had had two wit- 
 nesses. 
 
 When Ellen left the room, Emy had 
 gone another way in order to meet her 
 in the cabinet and represent to her in 
 some friendly words that she ought to 
 comply with the general request. But 
 she had stopped when she heard Evert 
 and Ellen speaking, and the longer she 
 listened the more astonished she became 
 at Ellen's obstinacy, so little in accord- 
 ance with the young girl's gentle and 
 submissive disposition. 
 
 " What is it that can induce Ellen to 
 be so stubborn, that she makes Evert 
 both angry and troubled 1 " thought Emy. 
 " She must certainly have some adequate 
 reason for it, else she would not act so ; 
 but now I must return to the company 
 and try to excuse her, for to attempt to 
 persuade her is not likely to compensate 
 for the effort." Emy returned to the 
 saloon. 
 
 "Ah, I was just looking for you to 
 ask you to become my vis-ct-vis in the 
 fran$aise which we are going to dance." 
 
 " With pleasure," answered Evert, and 
 hastened again in to Ellen. An angry 
 flush yet burned on his cheeks and his 
 voice trembled as he said to her, 
 
 " I siippose you will also refuse if I 
 ask you to dance with me ? " 
 
 Ellen replied pleasantly, 
 
 "No, Evert, I certainly will not." 
 With this she rose, wiped away her tears, 
 and gave her hand to her betrothed. 
 
 " You are very good. I really did not 
 expect so much compliance from you 
 towards so insignificant a person as I am !" 
 
 " Why this scorn, Evert ! " 
 
 " Scorn ? My friend, the truth cannot 
 be scorn ; but let us leave off. The 
 music has begun, and we oi:ght not to
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 15 
 
 let the others wait while we exchange 
 our tender feelings." Evert laughed de- 
 risively. 
 
 Ellen felt hurt by his words. She 
 was filled with bitter feelings, and at this 
 moment she lacked entirely the mildness 
 and toleration which were the basis of 
 her character. Cold, hard words trem- 
 bled upon her lips, but she held them 
 back with a violent effort. Never had 
 Ellen been swayed by more disagreeable 
 impressions, never had her mild and 
 loving heart been filled with such pas- 
 sionate and violent emotions. She felt 
 ready to weep over herself, so changed 
 did she seem ; but pride restrained her 
 tears, and with flaming cheeks and an 
 almost repellant expression in her face, 
 she entered the dancing-hall. That this 
 cold expression was not softened when 
 she found that Uno was there opposite, 
 that the sight of him did not have a 
 calming effect upon the bitter feelings 
 which governed her, can be easily per- 
 ceived when one considers that his attack 
 against her had called them forth. 
 
 During the whole dance Ellen's move- 
 ments lacked the enchanting grace of 
 coyness which usually distinguished her. 
 She carried her head high. A touch 
 of unsubdued pride revealed itself in all 
 her motions. Not once did she fasten 
 her eyes on the Count ; and when he said 
 some words to her during the dance, she 
 bowed her head in response, but not a 
 word passed her lips. When the dance 
 was over and Evert led her to a seat, she 
 said almost with temper, 
 
 "Why did you not tell me that the 
 Count was to be our vis-d-vis ? If I had 
 known that, I should not have danced." 
 
 " But, good God, Ellen ! what ails 
 you?" exclaimed Evert, looking at her 
 with astonishment. He had never seen 
 her like this. 
 
 " Ah ! forgive me," whispered she, " I 
 am very, very bad to-day ; I feel it." 
 
 "Why should you not wish to dance 
 when the Count was opposite to you ? " 
 
 " Because because it is hard for me 
 to endure him ! " stammered Ellen. 
 
 Emy had observed her foster-daughter, 
 and in her heart made the same explana- 
 tion as Evert : " Good God, what ails the 
 girl ] " She had never known Ellen to 
 abandon herself to a bitter mood, never 
 before seen this cross and irritable ex- 
 pression in her face, never this cold and 
 arrogant pride. 
 
 Uno thought as he danced opposite 
 her, j 
 
 " How genius can blind people ! That 
 woman passes for good and mild. Be- 
 cause she can paint beautiful and mag- 
 nificent images with her fancy, one be- 
 lieves that she feels all that she utters in 
 her ecstasy ; and yet her heart is empty, 
 cramped by all the littleness that clings to 
 the most ordinary of all ordinary people. 
 Stubborn from wounded self-love, neither 
 love nor prayers can induce her to yield, 
 because she has discovered that I db not 
 admire her or believe her to be one of the 
 world's wonders. No, these gifted persons 
 are as deformed as a wagon with one large 
 wheel and the other small. The result 
 is that the wagon is not fit for use, and 
 neither are these model people qualified 
 for real life. They are ruled by self-love, 
 and only self-love. No, give me my lit- 
 tle relative Ebba, with her warm, childish 
 heart and pure feelings. She enlivens 
 the soul and warms the blood. Ah ! 
 happy he who can have such a treasure 
 for a companion through life ! " 
 
 Quite early the next morning, Ellen, 
 attired in her riding-habit, stole down 
 the steps and went into the servants' 
 building. It was so early that all at 
 Holmvik still slept. When she entered 
 the room opposite the kitchen, a wailing 
 sound met her ear. It came from an old; 
 woman who lay in bed. Ellen went to 
 the sick person, bent down over her and 
 asked,
 
 16 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 " How are you, Greta? " 
 
 " God bless you, Mamsell Ellen ! How 
 good of you to come to see a poor crea- 
 ture ! I have had a bad night, but when 
 I see you I always forget my pains." 
 
 " Has Lotta attended to you properly 
 during the night, and given you the med 
 icine regularly 1 " 
 
 "Yes, indeed she has; but my pains 
 are j ust as severe ; they are right here in 
 my breast." 
 
 " Do you think that you are worse 
 to-day 1 " 
 
 " Yes," faltered the sick woman, who 
 spoke with great difficulty. 
 
 " Then we must have the doctor. I 
 promised your daughter, when she was 
 in such despair at being obliged to leave 
 you to the care of others, that, with 
 God's help, you should recover, and I in- 
 tend to keep my word. I shall now ride 
 after the doctor, but will be back soon." 
 The young girl nodded kindly to the old 
 woman and left the room. She took her 
 way down to the stable. 
 
 " Be so good as to saddle my riding 
 horse, Anderson," said she to one of the 
 stable-men. 
 
 "Shall Fredrik attend you?" asked 
 Anderson. 
 
 " No, it is unnecessary." 
 
 A few moments after this Count Uno 
 opened his window and saw a woman rid- 
 ing away at full speed. 
 
 " Who can it be ? " thought he, and re- 
 mained standing at the window. " It is 
 only seven o'clock, and we did not stop 
 dancing until three ; consequently it is 
 no one from here, for all the household 
 ;are still asleep." 
 
 The Count tried to go to sleep again ; 
 but as he could not succeed, he finally 
 got up, dressed himself, and went down 
 to the stable, to have a horse saddled. 
 In ' a short time he galloped off in the 
 same direction which the horse-woman 
 had taken an hour before, while he 
 thought, 
 
 " I wonder who that Amazon was who 
 
 went off all alone so early in the morn- 
 ing. Probably some lady from this do- 
 main" (he was now riding by a place called 
 Lundagard) ; "in that case I shall inevita- 
 bly meet her when she turns back." He 
 held in his horse and let him take an 
 easy pace. 
 
 " We are very singular creatures, we 
 human beings," continued he in thought ; 
 " an entire stranger excites our curiosity, 
 if she only appears in some unusual man- 
 ner. So is it now with me. I see an 
 unknown woman ride past my window 
 on a fine horse, and directly I wish to 
 know who she is and how she looks, 
 without being led by any other interest 
 than my curiosity." 
 
 In the midst of his soliloquy Uno 
 heard horses' hoofs in the distance. They 
 came nearer and nearer. At the turn of 
 the road the equestrienne suddenly ap- 
 peared. She flew forward, as if her horse 
 had had wings, and dashed past Uno 
 like a hurricane. Just at the moment 
 when he prepared to take a closer inspec- 
 tion of her, she turned away her head, so 
 that it was impossible for him to distin- 
 guish her features through the thick black 
 veil that she had drawn down at the sight 
 of the Count. 
 
 Uno reined in his horse just as she 
 rode by him and thought, " She does 
 not wish to be recognized. She knows 
 me, then." With this he turned his 
 horse, but could not refrain from look- 
 ing back when he heard a carriage 
 coming at full speed behind him. In 
 it sat an elderly gentleman with mild 
 and intelligent features. The Count al- 
 lowed him to pass ; for he had observed 
 that the lady before him had also reined 
 in her horse a moment to look back, and 
 that when she discovered the carriage she 
 continued her way more slowly. 
 
 "Now I could catch up with her," 
 thought the Count ; " but it would not be 
 gallant, as she does not wish to be known." 
 And as a result of this reasoning he too let 
 his horse proceed leisurely. He saw plain-
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 17 
 
 ly that the lady on horseback -wished to 
 wait for the carriage, and when this 
 came up they both went on together, 
 and Uno was obliged to hurry his horse 
 so as not to lose them from sight. To 
 his no slight surprise they turned off at 
 Holmvik and went up the avenue. When 
 the Count, in his turn, galloped up the 
 same, the lady and the horse had disap- 
 peared, but the carriage stood before the 
 little building. 
 
 " Who has come here ? " inquired 
 Uno of the coachman. 
 
 " The doctor," was the answer. 
 
 Uno rode on to the .stable, mutter- 
 ing, 
 
 " I can lay a wager that the rider was 
 no other than Ellen. Well, that is fit- 
 ting, genius and amazou. I 'm blessed 
 if I can find anything to admire in such 
 creatures. Can any genius in the world, 
 however great it may be, compensate for 
 the loss of the modesty, sweetness, and 
 gentleness which ought to distinguish 
 woman, especially when young ? " The 
 Count now jumped from his horse, threw 
 the reins to the hostler, and went up the 
 steps. 
 
 At breakfast, which they took in the 
 garden surrounded by the perfume of 
 flowers, the song of birds, and the glori- 
 ous morning sun, Ellen did not appear. 
 The Justice was apparently in a bad hu- 
 mor. While Uno was speaking to Sap- 
 pho, he heard Countess Rubens say to 
 Ellen's betrothed, 
 
 "My dear Evert, you must promise 
 me not to keep talking to Ellen about 
 what people will say, how it looks, and 
 so on. She has not been so brought up 
 that she can ever become a slave to the 
 opinion of others, but she has learned 
 from me not to prize it any higher than 
 it is actually worth. Her free, uncor- 
 rupted heart will never understand all 
 the triviality and meanness which is 
 called 'opinion.' Let her be as she is, 
 an innocent child, and do not pay any 
 attention to her little peculiarities of 
 
 habit and such trifles. Believe me, Ellen 
 will never forget her respect for proprie- 
 ty ; but neither can she comprehend that 
 a morning ride here in the country is 
 improper." 
 
 " Well, I suppose I shall now have to 
 yield as usual. You and my own heart 
 always speak in Ellen's favor ; but admit, 
 that people could actually think that 
 love is very weak in Ellen, when she 
 prefers to ride out in the morning all 
 alone to doing it in my company. You 
 must acknowledge that such a conclusion 
 is scarcely flattering to me, who " 
 
 " Who would like people to think that 
 you were adored by your betrothed," re- 
 joined the Countess, not without a cer- 
 tain irony in her voice. " Dear Evert, 
 leave once for all this eternal anxiety 
 about what people think and say, and be 
 contented with the certainty you possess, 
 that Ellen, who could choose among so 
 many above you in rank and fortune, 
 nevertheless accepted you from inclina- 
 tion." 
 
 Evert reddened; it was evident that 
 the Countess's words displeased him ; and 
 as his vanity could not very well bear 
 the reminder, he resumed with some bit- 
 terness, 
 
 " If I had the happiness of being pre- 
 ferred by Ellen to other more worthy 
 rivals, I think I have also shown through 
 my love that I can accommodate myself to 
 her peculiarities of disposition and ca- 
 prices better than any one else." 
 
 " Caprices ! " 
 
 " Yes, or what name will you give to 
 her absence from breakfast ] " 
 
 Emy said nothing. She could not with 
 justice deny that Ellen had for a few 
 days past appeared to her capricious. 
 
 " Ought she to be so angry with me as 
 to shut herself up in her room on that 
 account 1 " 
 
 "I do not believe that this was the 
 reason, but rather that she suffered from 
 your remarks and the bitterness with 
 which you uttered them."
 
 18 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 " It is always my fault." 
 
 " Evert, I say now what I have told 
 you several times before : you must know 
 Ellen better before you unite your desti- 
 nies." 
 
 " My gracious aunt, Ellen and I must 
 either be married in the autumn or 
 never." He left the Countess. 
 
 Emy remained sitting and looked 
 thoughtfully after him. And Uno, who 
 had listened to the conversation, 
 thought, 
 
 " Poor man, so he is foolish enough to 
 marry that gifted girl. He is likely to 
 pay dearly for his happiness." 
 
 While Emy was considering what was 
 the wisest thing to do, Evert how highly 
 necessary it was for him to be married to 
 Ellen soon, and Uno was congratulating 
 himself upon not being in Evert's place, 
 the object of all this displeasure and 
 blame sat by the old servant's sick-bed 
 and assisted Lotta to apply leeches to 
 the patient's breast ; for the girl had a 
 great terror of the small creatures, and 
 could not be induced to take hold of 
 them. Ellen, on the other hand, wished 
 to show Lotta how childish she was to 
 'let fear keep her from helping a sick per- 
 son. The forenoon was far advanced 
 when she left the sick-room, satisfied 
 with her morning's work ; for Greta now 
 slept calmly and quietly. In the court- 
 yard Ellen met Uno. 
 
 ""You have taken an early ride this 
 morning," said he. 
 
 Ellen colored, looked coldly at him, 
 and answered, 
 
 " I do so every morning." 
 
 "Alone?" 
 
 " That is just as it happens." 
 
 " We missed you at breakfast." 
 
 " We would always rather be where 
 we are indispensable, and I have followed 
 this rule to-day." 
 
 " To whom is a young woman indis- 
 pensable, if not to the man who loves 
 her ? Your betrothed misses you." 
 
 Ellen blushed again. 
 
 " I hope he has not complained about 
 it to you ? " Ellen looked at him proud- 
 ly, made an inclination of the head, and 
 left the place. 
 
 " I have irremediably wounded her 
 self-love ; that seetos clear, but it is in- 
 different to me." 
 
 That afternoon the Kerners returned 
 to Lb'da. 
 
 The rays of the afternoon sun illu- 
 mined the park at Holmvik. The 
 Count, Countess, and their two children 
 had taken a walk to the sea-shore. 
 Ellen and Evert had remained in the 
 park. We find them sitting on a rustic 
 sofa. The Justice had folded one of her 
 hands between both his, and there was 
 a touch of true emotion in his voice as 
 he spoke to her. 
 
 " My beloved Ellen, I deeply feel the 
 need of our rightly understanding each 
 other. It seems to me sometimes as 
 though we did not, and I suffer from it. 
 You see, Ellen, I love you so sincerely, 
 so earnestly, that every inequality in 
 your disposition, every cold and unfriend- 
 ly word, pains and wounds me, calls up 
 bitter doubts in my soul of the contin- 
 xiance of your feelings for me. Ah ! 
 Ellen, I then feel with grief that you are 
 rich and I poor. At such moments I 
 am seized with an inner despair, and I 
 should be ready to fly your presence, 
 did not a love stronger than all other 
 feelings bind me to you. The last few 
 days have contained for me so many 
 sources of suffering, that I resolved to 
 ask you if you really loved me, or if the 
 yes you gave was an indiscretion which 
 you repent. If that is so, Ellen, then 
 may God forgive you ! you have cruelly 
 played with my heart." The words in 
 this speech were well calculated, for they 
 appealed to all her noblest feelings, and 
 her answer came truly and frankly from 
 her heart. 
 
 "Dear Evert, forgive me if I have
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 19 
 
 troubled you ; but God, who reads my 
 heart, knows that it has not been inten- 
 tional. Believe me, when I solemnly 
 assure you that my heart is faithful, and 
 that I have not once regretted the yes I 
 gave you. Never say to me that you 
 are poor and I rich ; for this is something 
 which I do not think of. I have only 
 felt that of all the men I have seen, of 
 all who have wished me to share their 
 future, you were the only one to whom 
 I had the courage to trust myself, be- 
 cause you better than others understood 
 me. Faithful and honest is the feel- 
 ing which binds me to you. If I some- 
 times appear cold and indifferent, then 
 ascribe it to my dreamy and singular 
 charactei-, never to my heart, and be 
 indulgent with my defects, which I shall 
 try to remedy when I become your 
 wife." 
 
 "And when, Ellen, shall this happi- 
 ness be mine 1 " Evert kissed her hand 
 warmly while he said beseechingly : " 0, 
 let me not wait for it too long. I feel 
 that my calm and all my hope rests upon 
 your consenting to let me lead you to 
 the altar in the fall. Ellen, if you love 
 me, if my happiness is dear to you, if 
 my peace has any value for you, then 
 promise me that our wedding may be 
 celebrated on my birthday, the 18th 
 of October. Ah ! I am so childish that 
 if you refuse I shall see in it a bad mean- 
 ing. My good, sweet Ellen, could you 
 grieve me so deeply as to refuse to grant 
 my prayer 1 " 
 
 " No, I cannot," whispered Ellen with 
 mildness. " It shall be as you wish." 
 
 Evert was delirious with joy, and 
 looked full of bliss. Ellen was good and 
 kind ; but one sought in vain in this 
 quiet tenderness for any trace of the 
 lover's warmth. She seemed so passive 
 that she resembled an object which will- 
 ingly allows itself to be carried along by 
 the stream. She smiled at Evert with 
 the calm satisfaction which one experi- 
 ences from making others happy ; but 
 
 there was nothing of love's intoxicating 
 felicity in this smile. 
 
 After Evert with hand-kissings and 
 protestations had given free course to his 
 gratitude, he said with a warm glance, 
 
 " As you know, beloved Ellen, I must 
 go to Stockholm next week to attend to 
 my duties, and thus live apart from you 
 for several weeks. Will you promise to 
 let nothing induce you to retract the 
 promise you have now given me ? Give 
 me a solemn, a sacred assurance that 
 you will not break it. I should die of 
 despair if you did." 
 
 " Evert, shall an oath be needed when 
 you have my word "? " 
 
 " For my peace, during the long and 
 painful separation. Ellen, when one 
 loves as I love, he is jealous, apprehen- 
 sive, and uneasy. Ah, you do not wish 
 me to be pursued by these tortures ? " 
 
 " No, indeed I do not, Evert, and there- 
 fore I promise by my mother's memory 
 never to take back the promise I have 
 now given you." 
 
 " Thanks, angel ! " 
 
 A peculiarity with all poetic tempera- 
 ments is that they often commit great 
 mistakes with regard to their own feel- 
 ings, and allow the impression of the 
 moment to pass for all. If any one 
 speaks to their fancy, they immediately 
 believe that the heart-strings are touched. 
 Awake their compassion, their magna- 
 nimity, and your victory over them is 
 decided. These children of the moment's 
 transport can never, while young, analyze 
 the nature of their feelings, because im- 
 agination so often takes their place, and 
 the fancied impressions are as vivid as the 
 actual. The result is that they some- 
 times believe themselves to be something 
 very different from what they are. 
 
 Through this continual effort to gov- 
 ern herself ever since childhood, Ellen 
 had succeeded in overcoming many ex- 
 tremes in her disposition, in curbing 
 many impetuous and fiery feelings, and 
 in consequence of this she believed that
 
 20 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 she possessed a perfect mastery over her 
 heart, and that it would never beat 
 more violently for any one than her 
 reason approved. The sense and mod- 
 eration which Ellen had succeeded in 
 gaming through this daily effort to con- 
 trol all outbursts she regarded as an 
 evidence that she could not experience 
 any emotions of a strong and lively 
 nature. She wished to be a woman of 
 mild and calm feelings. With indiffer- 
 ence had she received the homage of 
 all the young men who competed to 
 win her heart. She had found them 
 poor in spirit and empty in soul. The 
 man whom she would choose must be 
 able to awake her interest through some 
 prominent intellectual or moral worth. 
 Evert of Ochard had succeeded in inter- 
 esting her through his animated con- 
 versation and a certain wealth of ideas. 
 He had read a good deal; and if his 
 gifts were not brilliant, he was however 
 sufficiently well endowed to dazzle in 
 society. To this his remarkably good 
 memory contributed veiy essentially. 
 Few persons possess the gift of express- 
 ing themselves about all that they have 
 seen and read in so agreeable a manner 
 as he. He knew how to throw warmth 
 and feeling into all that he said, to give 
 color and interest to the most insig- 
 nificant things. In a word, our Justice 
 was just the man to strike the fancy 
 of a girl who considered the ability to 
 talk well to be the same as a superior 
 understanding. Ellen regarded him as 
 a man of unusual attainments, with a 
 heart open to all that was noble and 
 beautiful. Sympathy grew to be affec- 
 tion, so that when he requested her 
 hand she deemed herself, after a careful 
 examination of her feelings, as strongly 
 attached to him as it was possible for 
 her to be ; and with the full intention 
 of making him happy and becoming so 
 herself, she consented to be his wife. 
 
 It is certain that Ellen would never 
 break her resolution to create his happi- 
 
 ness, however life might shape itself for 
 her. The main feature in Ellen's char- 
 acter, and that upon which Countess 
 Rubens laid the greatest weight in her 
 education, was a deep piety and a true 
 respect for duty. This was the surest 
 counterpoise to an overstrained fancy, 
 and the power which would always keep 
 her from being carried away by her 
 imagination. Emy could not take the 
 idealism away from her soul; but she 
 had given it such a direction that it 
 would be a shield to her in the moment 
 of passion. She had taught her to as- 
 pire to the good, noble, and morally 
 beautiful, and the result of this was 
 that the young girl did not dream about 
 making a romantic drama of her life, 
 but regarded it as an ennobling period 
 for a higher aim. 
 
 And now we will return to the thread 
 of the story. 
 
 Count Rubens intended to take a 
 journey abroad through the summer, in 
 order to consult some physicians with 
 regard to a liver complaint with which 
 he was troubled. Countess Kerner had 
 invited Ellen, Ebba, and young Arthur 
 to stay at Loda during the two months 
 that he and his wife were to visit foreign 
 lands, an invitation which Emy had 
 gladly accepted. 
 
 Eight days after Ellen's conversation 
 with Evert and the solemn promise that 
 their wedding should be celebrated in 
 October, a promise of which she had told 
 Countess Emy, and, in spite of all the 
 objections on her part, firmly resolved 
 to fulfil, we find Count Rubens's whole 
 family, Ellen included, at Loda. It is 
 the afternoon before the Count and 
 Countess's departure to the capital, and 
 Emy and Ellen are sitting together in a 
 little cabinet. 
 
 " My beloved Ellen, I shall now for 
 the first time since I became a mother 
 leave my children for quite a long period,
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 21 
 
 and it is with a peculiar feeling of anx- 
 iety that I separate from them, especially 
 Ebba. She is at the age when the need 
 of a tender mother is so great. Ellen, 
 I confide her to your care ; watch over 
 her during these months, as I should 
 do; and if you love me, then let me 
 see my daiiing as glad and blooming as 
 ever on my return. Arthur is still a 
 child, but Ebba is a young maiden of 
 the age when the heart is most easily 
 impressed and is liable to receive a 
 wound that may never be healed." 
 
 " Be calm, dear Aunt. I will watch 
 over them both, and so faithfully, that 
 I will make myself their very conscience, 
 their hearts' confidante ; and this will 
 not be difficult, for I am almost a part 
 of Ebba. She confides every thought to 
 me, every impression that she experi- 
 ences, and I shall make the same use 
 of all that she tells me, as I believe that 
 you would. Ah, I shall be your children's 
 mother while you are away, as you have 
 been to me, my noble foster-mother." 
 
 " Thanks, my Ellen ! " 
 
 The next morning the Rubens left, 
 and there was more than could be ex- 
 pressed in the look with which Emy 
 regarded Ellen as she whispered, "God 
 protect you ! " The next moment the 
 horses hastened away with the woman 
 so deeply loved by all. Ellen remained 
 standing on the steps and looked 
 after the retreating carriage, while 
 Ebba, dissolved in tears, had thrown 
 herself down in an easy-chair in the 
 saloon, and Arthur with great effort 
 struggled against his rising tears. No 
 tear came to Ellen's eyes, no sigh es- 
 caped her, she stood perfectly motion- 
 less. When the carriage had disappeared 
 from her sight, she repeated in a whis- 
 per, "Yes, God protect us." Then she 
 turned to go into the saloon and comfort 
 Ebba, but found herself at that moment 
 right before Uno, who had stood behind 
 her. When she met his black eyes, 
 something like a shudder went through 
 
 her heart, and she would have wished to 
 fly, far, far away, but instead of this she 
 passed him without saying a word. It 
 was an inexplicable oppression which 
 Ellen experienced at the sight of him, 
 and which made him appear to her as 
 one who made a mockery of the heart's 
 deepest feelings, while he spoke so much 
 of the respect that he rendered them. 
 Ellen tried to console Ebba with her kind 
 and hearty words, and succeeded so well, 
 that Ebba accepted the proposal to accom- 
 pany Sappho, Alma, and her down to the 
 park, when just then these words from 
 the balcony met her ear, 
 
 " My dear Arthur, will you allow your- 
 self to be so deeply depressed by the 
 separation from your parents, when you 
 see how little your foster-sister is affected 
 byiU" 
 
 It was Count Uno's voice. Ellen col- 
 ored, and her eyes flashed with anger. 
 
 Countess Sappho had not heard tho 
 Count's words, but cried to Arthur to 
 come with them ; and then they all, 
 with the exception of Uno, went down 
 to the park. 
 
 Two weeks had elapsed since that day, 
 when we find them all gathered in the 
 garden. Ebba, Alma, Arthur, and his 
 teacher, Magister Dahl, were engaged in 
 arranging some plants in Arthur's her- 
 barium. Ellen, Sappho, Oscar, and Uno 
 sat at a little distance from them. 
 
 " Have you looked at Magister Dahl's 
 face 1 ?" .inquired Oscar, turning to Uno. 
 "It is one of the most intelligent I have 
 seen." 
 
 " yes ; but' it has an expression of 
 reserve which appears to me repulsive," 
 replied Uno. "I cannot endure these 
 persons who resemble walled-up graves, 
 for one is always deceived in them. Like 
 the grave they often cover only worth- 
 less bones, while we others imagine that 
 they are richly gifted souls. The much- 
 praised self-command is nothing else
 
 22 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 than a mask to conceal spiritual pov- 
 erty." Uno had his gaze fastened on 
 Ellen, who felt extremely incensed when 
 she fancied from his tone that the words 
 were directed to her. 
 
 "What perverted ideas, dear Uno," 
 said Sappho with spirit, and threw her 
 head back with the peculiar motion which 
 with her always indicated bad-humor. 
 " Now I will venture the assertion that 
 the richer our natures are, the stronger 
 and deeper our feelings, the more care- 
 fully do we conceal them within our- 
 selves. I know no one with a warmer 
 heart than my Oscar, and yet what a 
 great power he has over himself." Sap- 
 pho extended her hand to her husband 
 with a fascinating smile. 
 
 Ellen looked up and was astonished at 
 the expression which Uno's eyes took at 
 these last words of Sappho's and the 
 motion which accompanied them. One 
 could say that his look, which rested a 
 second on Sappho, contained something 
 as once mocking and sad. 
 
 "With all respect for Oscar's self- 
 command, an exception is nothing to the 
 purpose. And if all distinguished per- 
 sons were endowed with this quality, I 
 would still detest them. I love to read 
 in the face what the heart feels, to count 
 its beats and interpret its emotions. 
 The one who is only led by his inflexible 
 will, and who deals out his feelings in 
 small quantities, inspires in me a sort of 
 fear and puts me at a distance." 
 
 " Then you prefer a surrender to the 
 feelings. Ah, my friend ! you ought to 
 have known me twelve years ago, and I 
 am sure you would have been completely 
 cured of these ideas," said Sappho laugh- 
 ing. " I, on the other hand, consider 
 the man pitiable and contemptible who 
 is not master of his passions, but gives 
 them a free rein." 
 
 " With men the reason ought to pre- 
 vail, with woman the heart." Uno rose 
 and went to the group who were occu- 
 pied with their botanical operations. 
 
 Sappho leaned against Oscar and whis- 
 pered some tender words to him. They 
 looked very happy. Ellen had bent 
 deeper over her work. Thoughts of an 
 entirely strange and unusual nature 
 arose within her, and she asked herself 
 by what right this stranger continually 
 assailed her 1 All his words, even upon 
 the most trivial subject, took the charac- 
 ter of an attack against her. She did 
 not consider that she perhaps allowed 
 herself to be influenced by her enmity, 
 and through this applied everything to 
 herself. From these reflections she was 
 roused by Sappho, who said, 
 
 "Ellen, dear, improvise some verses 
 upon happiness." 
 
 Ellen looked up, and when she found 
 that Uno was far enough away not to 
 hear her, she replied, smiling, 
 
 "Aunt, Count Uno has entirely de- 
 prived me of my inspiration, and I could 
 not improvise four lines in his presence." 
 
 " And why ? " asked Oscar. 
 
 " I cannot explain it in any other way 
 than that an antipathy exists between us." 
 
 " But Uno, in spite of his peculiarities, 
 is a chivalrous and uncommon young 
 man, to whom you would yield your 
 respect if you rightly knew hint" 
 
 Ellen looked at Sappho and said with 
 a ravishing smile, 
 
 "How good Uncle Kerner is, always 
 to wish to discover the better qualities 
 in .every person ! I assure you, Uncle, 
 that I render Count Uno all my respect, 
 but nothing more." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ; well then, as a penalty 
 you shall now have to call him thou," said 
 Oscar, laughing. 
 
 " No, for God's sake, Uncle." 
 
 " There is no help for it. Uno ! " 
 cried Count Oscar. 
 
 Uno turned round. 
 
 "Come here, and bring the young 
 people with you." 
 
 " The thought has struck me," contin- 
 ued he, " that you are entirely too young 
 to be called uncle, and therefore I pro-
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 23 
 
 pose that the girls shall call you thou. 
 As Ellen belongs to the family, I have 
 also made the same proposition to her, so 
 that she may overcome a certain disincli- 
 nation that she has for yon." 
 
 The proposal was received by Uno with 
 a pleasant smile, and he said some cor- 
 dial words to Ebba, after which Alma 
 and Ebba gave him the " thou-kiss." He 
 then approached Ellen. She raised her 
 head quickly and said in a voice that 
 trembled a little, * 
 
 " Permit me to exclude the word thou, 
 an appellation altogether too familiar be- 
 tween us. We will stop at calling each 
 other by name." 
 
 Uno reddened and looked at Ellen 
 with a peculiar glance which she endured 
 calmly. He recovered himself directly, 
 
 "As we are not to say thou, Ellen must 
 admit, that with the permission to call 
 you by name, I am allowed to kiss your 
 hand." 
 
 Ellen reached him her hand with a 
 gesture at once graceful and dignified. 
 
 " Do you know, Uno, what Ellen has 
 just said about you?" asked Oscar. 
 
 "No; but it was certainly nothing 
 flattering." Uno threw himself down on 
 a seat and beat the leaves from a bush 
 with his cane. 
 
 " Nothing ill ; she only said that all 
 her inspiration left her in your presence." 
 
 " Probably in consequence of the antip- 
 athy which she feels towards me." 
 
 " Or rather, in consequence of the 
 bitter attacks which you make against 
 inspiration," said Sappho. 
 
 " Yes, I confess that I do not believe 
 in it." 
 
 "Why not?" Ellen threw out the 
 question with a peculiarly defiant tone. 
 
 " Because I cannot conceive of such a 
 phenomenon." 
 
 "Then you are not entitled to pass 
 judgment upon it. That which we do 
 not comprehend, we cannot judge of. 
 You are consequently convicted." 
 L " If that is so, then there is something 
 
 between us which can be called antipa- 
 thy." 
 
 " You are right." 
 
 A servant arrived with the mail-bag. 
 Count Oscar opened it, and gave two 
 letters to Ellen. 
 
 " From your betrothed and Emy," said 
 he. 
 
 Ellen took them and went away. 
 
 During the remainder of the afternoon 
 Uno occupied himself almost exclusively 
 with Ebba, who was particularly capti- 
 vating, and captivated Uno also seemed 
 to be. 
 
 Singularly enough, Ellen, who fol- 
 lowed Ebba and Uno with the watchful 
 eye of a mother, found a certain some- 
 thing in his manner which called up the 
 conviction that he was only amused by 
 Ebba's society, and that she had not 
 awakened the same feelings in his breast 
 as he in hers. 
 
 One evening, some weeks subsequent 
 to Count Rubens' s departure, Ellen sat on 
 the edge of Ebba's bed, after the latter 
 had retired. 
 
 "Tell me, Ebba, what do you now 
 think of Uno 1 ? Do you remember how 
 little he pleased you the first time you 
 saw him 1 " 
 
 " I recollect it very well. I found him 
 ugly, disagreeable, and mean." 
 
 "Something of the sort ; but now, 
 how do you find him now 1 " 
 
 " Handsome, amiable, and good." 
 
 " Then you like him 1 " 
 
 "Hush, wait a little, Ellen." Ebba 
 sat up in bed, put her arm around Ellen's 
 neck, and continued : " Do I like him ? 
 Yes, very much. When he is away, it 
 seems to me less pleasant. When he 
 talks to me, I become glad and feel so 
 satisfied. Ah ! Ellen, I like him very 
 much better than Magister Dahl, Hen- 
 rico, and the others. Don't you?" 
 
 " No, dear Ebba, I do not. Henrico 
 has something nobler and more earnest, 
 Dahl is milder and has more ability." 
 
 " May be ; but as I have many faults
 
 24 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 myself, I like those best who are not 
 perfect. Say, Ellen, what do you believe 
 he thinks of me ? " 
 
 " He finds you to be a lovely child." 
 
 " Child ! Ah, one is not a child at 
 sixteen, after being confirmed. No, 
 Ellen, he cannot regard me as a child." 
 
 "But he does, nevertheless, Ebba. 
 The preference and friendliness which 
 characterize his behavior towards you 
 only come from the fact that he consid- 
 ers you still to belong to childhood." 
 
 " But Alma is a year younger than I, 
 and he is not towards her as he is to me." 
 
 " Because Alma is more serious than 
 you. Your childish vivacity amuses him." 
 
 "Ellen ! " exclaimed Ebba hastily, " I 
 do not like you to talk so. I do not 
 wish him to consider me a child." 
 
 " Do yoxi wish me to speak frankly to 
 you?" asked Ellen in a voice so inex- 
 pressibly gentle, that Ebba kissed her, 
 saying, 
 
 " Forgive me, Ellen, I am a vain fool, 
 as mamma says. Ah, you dear, good girl, 
 you are right, I am a child, and ought 
 not to feel bad over it. Papa says, child- 
 hood is the season of joy." 
 
 "Yes, my darling, let us talk about 
 your parents. 0, if we had them here ! " 
 
 The girls clasped their hands and 
 leaned their bowed heads together. A 
 warm and fervent prayer united their 
 hearts. 
 
 The following morning Ellen took one 
 of her early walks. One of her fa- 
 vorite enjoyments was to stroll around 
 on summer mornings, or lie outstretched 
 in the luxuriant grass, listening to the 
 song of the birds and the rustling of the 
 leaves. Entirely oblivious of everything 
 save the imagery which then filled her 
 soul, she abandoned herself without re- 
 straint to the rich world of imagination. 
 In order to enjoy this pleasure undis- 
 turbed, she went out early, before the 
 others had risen. How many poetic and 
 
 delightful longings found form and words 
 during these solitary rambles ! How many 
 warm and glowing praises to the Creator 
 ascended from her heart ! It was the poet's 
 soul, free and untrammelled, which then 
 expanded and breathed out all its exuber- 
 ance. Poor Ellen ! why wast thou not 
 allowed to dream and idealize in some 
 unnoticed place ] Thy tender genius 
 could then have developed in all its man- 
 ifold phases, and shone like a clear star 
 over thy life ; but the quiet felicity for 
 which thou wast created, far removed 
 from the world's wrestling-place and its 
 miserable passions, was never to become 
 thine, and thou, poor poetical girl ! wast 
 not to be allowed to remain thyself. 
 
 Now, as usual, she wandered down to 
 the park, through which a stream flowed, 
 shaded on both sides by the park's luxu- 
 riant trees. The hanging-birch bent its 
 rich crown over the mirror-like surface 
 and seemed to contemplate its foliage 
 with a melancholy smile. With slow, 
 lingering steps and a dreamy air she 
 walked through the park, where the 
 thrush, bullfinch, and linnet tuned their 
 carols. A smile full of felicity rested 
 upon her features. She stopped ever 
 and anon as if to inhale in full draughts 
 the glorious air, full of perfume, poesy, 
 and song. On coming to a slope en- 
 closed by trees and bushes, she clasped 
 her hands and sank upon her knees with 
 her gaze lifted to heaven. There Avas 
 something transfigured in the young girl's 
 face, something of deep and holy devo- 
 tion, but a devotion full of thankfulness 
 and youthful rapture. It was a child's 
 hopeful prayer to its Heavenly Father. 
 Had an human eye seen her at this mo- 
 ment, it would certainly have found her 
 beautiful; and had any human ear lis- 
 tened to the words which passed over 
 the fresh lips, it would have caught them 
 in the flight to preserve them for poster- 
 ity ; but God alone, to whom they were 
 addressed, heard them, and he alone saw 
 the gentle suppliant. The next moment
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 25 
 
 she rested, dreaming in the grass, and 
 tried in her shifting fancy to clothe in 
 words the song of the birds and the mur- 
 mur of the water. 
 
 She would probably have remained in 
 the same spot all day, had not the sound 
 of the breakfast-bell roused her from the 
 reveries in which she was absorbed. She 
 drew a deep sigh, passed her hand over 
 her brow, and rose, turning her steps 
 homeward. She went through the gar- 
 den, and when she with her quiet tread 
 passed the lower saloon, the windows 
 of which opened to the floor, so that one 
 could see all that took place within, she 
 met a sight which forced her to stop. 
 She saw Sappho sitting on one of the 
 small sofas, and Uno on his knees before 
 her. Sappho's aspect was sad, serious, 
 almost indignant. Uno's features she 
 could not see. The young girl stood 
 motionless some moments ; she then 
 drew back, and instead of going past, she 
 went round another way. 
 
 At breakfast Sappho was thoughtful 
 and showed herself still more tender and 
 loving to Oscar. There was something 
 actually humble in her demeanor, as if 
 she had wished to atone for some injus- 
 tice. Towards Uno her manner appeared 
 somewhat cold. He, for his part, showed 
 Ebba the same friendly attention as 
 usual, laughing and jesting with her. 
 
 After breakfast, Ellen, Alma, and Ebba 
 went to see an old sick woman whom 
 Ellen, who made herself acquainted with 
 all the sick and infirm in her neighborhood 
 (during the weeks she was staying at 
 Loda), had taken under her care. But 
 Loda was one of the few estates which, 
 through the owner's humanity and con- 
 sideration for his dependants, was not 
 troubled with poverty. 
 
 On the way home from the visit to the 
 suffering woman, Ebba proposed that they 
 should take another path, so that by 
 crossing the stream on a plank at a place 
 where the water formed rapids, they 
 could come to the park, a favorite spot 
 
 with the three girls. They turned off 
 into the wood and continued their way, 
 chatting merrily. When they came to 
 the plank, Ellen said, 
 
 " No, girls, we dare not go over that ; 
 see how frail it looks." 
 
 " 0, there is no danger, Mamsell Ed- 
 ling " (Alma's governess), " and I went 
 over it too days ago," exclaimed Ebba, and 
 sprang out on the bridge. 
 
 Ellen, who saw the weak plank bend, 
 seized hold of Alma, who intended to follow, 
 and checked her. Just then they heard a 
 sharp crack, and the next instant Ebba had 
 fallen into the water, only kept above the 
 surface by her clothing, which had caught 
 in the broken plank. Ellen had uttered a 
 cry of anguish. Ebba made a violent effort 
 and with this tore the .dress, so that the 
 only thing which held her up gave way 
 and she disappeared in the rapids. But 
 quick as thought Ellen had started out 
 on the tottering and broken plank. 
 With desperation she seized hold of Eb- 
 ba's clothes, which yet kept her from 
 sinking. She lay outstretched on the 
 shaking support, and summoned all her 
 strength to hold Ebba up, crying to Al- 
 ma, who wished to go to her aid, 
 
 " For God's sake, Alma, do not come 
 here; for then we are all lost." Alma 
 remained weeping on the bank. 
 
 " But, Ellen, you will never be able to 
 save Ebba alone." 
 
 " I shall do it, or die with her," an- 
 swered Ellen, and succeeded in getting 
 Ebba's head above water. 
 
 " Take hold of my hand, Ebba," said, 
 she. 
 
 Without rightly knowing what she 
 did, Ebba obeyed the direction and Ellen 
 could now twine her arm around her 
 waist and draw her up on the timber 
 which swayed under the heavy burden 
 and threatened to drop down with the 
 two girls. 
 
 " Reach Ebba your hand, Alma, but 
 without stepping on the wood," cried El- 
 len, who knew, as she lay there on the
 
 26 
 
 TEE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 ruins of the extempore bridge, that at the 
 slightest imprudent motion on her part, 
 or the first attempt to raise herself, both 
 she and Ebba would be buried in the 
 current. 
 
 Ebba, who now realized completely the 
 danger in which they stood, seized Alma's 
 hand and crept to the bank ; but careful- 
 ly as this was done, the plank on which 
 Ellen lay gave way and fell into the 
 stream. With astonishing coolness Ellen 
 had calculated this chance, and in the 
 fall seized hold of a pile that stood in the 
 water, while she cried, 
 
 " Be quiet, I shall certainly help my- 
 self up." 
 
 She kept her word. The hold she took 
 had saved her, and she soon stood on 
 land. The brave girl's strength was how- 
 ever exhausted, and she sank down on 
 the grass, unable to hold herself up. 
 Alma and Ebba threw themselves weep- 
 ing on their knees beside her. 
 
 "Ellen, sweet Ellen, how is it with 
 you?" 
 
 But Ellen was not able to answer ; 
 some clear drops of blood were seen on 
 her lips, and directly afterwards a crim- 
 son stream gushed from her mouth. 
 Ebba was in perfect despair, wrung her 
 hands, and burst into violent lamenta- 
 tion. Alma ran down to the stream and 
 brought some water in her hat, with 
 which she bathed Ellen's temples, and 
 also prevailed xipon her to swallow a few 
 drops. Finally the bleeding ceased, and 
 Ellen smiled at them faintly. 
 
 " Ellen, Ellen," sobbed Ebba, " it is 
 my thoughtlessness, my disobedience, 
 which have caused this accident. Ah, 
 Ellen ! my whole life will I give you ; 
 I will obey you blindly. Say only that 
 you forgive me, that you are better, that 
 I have not been the cause of your 
 death." 
 
 " My good Ebba, do not weep. I am 
 better, I am well now ; I am not angry 
 with you, little friend." 
 
 When Ellen had calmed her young 
 
 companions, they returned slowly home. 
 Ellen supported herself on Alma's arm. 
 
 " Let us as unobserved as possible 
 steal up and change our clothes, so that 
 we may not frighten Aunt and Uncle, and 
 afterwards we will relate the occurrence 
 calmly." 
 
 They succeeded but partially, for Ebba 
 and Ellen had scarcely gone half-way up 
 the first flight before Oscar and Uno 
 came out into the hall. Alma, who con- 
 stituted the rear guard, thus found her- 
 self face to face with them when the door 
 opened. The young girl had undergone 
 such agony, that the sight of her beloved 
 father gave her an inexpressible joy, after 
 all the painful feelings she had experi- 
 enced. She paid no regard to Uno, but 
 sprang to her father, threw herself on 
 his neck, and exclaimed, 
 
 " Papa, papa, you can never believe 
 how heroic Ellen has been ! " 
 
 " What has happened, my child *? " 
 asked Count Oscar, caressing her bloom- 
 ing cheeks. 
 
 " That she shall tell you herself; now 
 I will go up to her. 0, if I could one 
 day resemble Ellen, mamma, you, and all 
 those who are good ! " 
 
 Alma glided from her father's arms 
 and sprang up the stairs. 
 
 In the girls' room their maid was help- 
 ing them to change their clothes, and 
 they had just finished when the dinner- 
 bell called them. Sappho, who had 
 been to visit some one in need, came 
 home at the same time. 
 
 Half an hour later we find them all 
 assembled in the dining-hall. 
 
 "What is the matter with Froken 
 Ebba 1 " inquired Dahl when he saw the 
 child, who was still very pale. 
 
 " Good heavens, child, what has hap- 
 pened to you ! " exclaimed Sappho. 
 
 " Only a little mischance," answered 
 Ellen, smiling ; " and if you permit, 
 we will speak of it in private after 
 dinner." 
 
 " Ellen does not wish all to know of
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 27 
 
 her heroism," observed Oscar; "I am 
 aware of your fear of letting people know 
 how rich and self-sacrificing your heart 
 is," 
 
 " Dear Uncle ! " Ellen said no more, 
 but the look which she gave Oscar said 
 so much and had such a shy expression, 
 that Uno, whose eyes were fastened upon 
 her, was astonished that this cold face 
 could acquire so much soul. 
 
 " Then I will keep silent," said Oscar, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Unobtrusiveness is a virtue which 
 always becomes its possessor, if she 
 rightly employs it," fell in Uno with his 
 irritating tone. 
 
 " And with it I wish to shine, is it not 
 so ? " said Ellen, looking at Uno. 
 
 "We all more or less wish to shine 
 with our merits, and especially with 
 those which we place foremost." 
 
 " Then I know a virtue which I place 
 before unobtrusiveuess," said Ellen, with 
 unusual spirit. 
 
 "And that is?" 
 
 " To think well of others." 
 
 " And this virtue I lack 1 Was that 
 your meaning ? " 
 
 " I do not know what virtues you lack 
 or possess." 
 
 Uno said nothing, and they soon rose 
 from the table. The young folks strolled 
 around the garden, but Ellen and Sap- 
 pho remained in with Oscar. 
 
 Quite simply Ellen now related the 
 event of the forenoon, entirely omitting 
 the perilous features of Ebba's rescue, 
 and making no mention of the hemor- 
 rhage. 
 
 Two hours after this Uno approached 
 Ellen, as she was sitting alone on the 
 balcony. 
 
 " I fear that I wounded you this noon 
 at the table," said he; "and that was 
 not my intention." 
 
 " Indeed ; what then was your inten- 
 tion ? " 
 
 " To express my opinion that every- 
 thing that is studied is unnatural, and 
 seems like something with which one 
 wishes to shine." 
 
 " You mean to say by this, that unob- 
 trusiveness with me is studied 1 " 
 
 " You are too proud, permit me to 
 say too conceited^ to be unassuming." 
 
 " And what leads you to this .conclu- 
 sion 1 " 
 
 ' "Your whole behavior; your antipa- 
 thy to me, which only proceeds from the 
 fact that I do not, like all the rest, ad- 
 mire your genius. You are wounded 
 because I place something higher than 
 that." 
 
 " No. I have not striven to be ad- 
 mired, and could consequently not be 
 wounded at not obtaining what I had 
 never sought." 
 
 " Ah ! your answer now best proves 
 that pride is the main trait in your char- 
 acter ; but if it was not my inability to 
 kneel to that which merely dazzles, what 
 then has engendered the open disfavor 
 which you show me ^ " 
 
 " Perhaps if 3 r ou had asked me yester- 
 day I should have answered your ques- 
 tion, now " Ellen looked at him and 
 became silent ; for she could not tell him 
 what she thought, namely, " now I de- 
 spise you too much. You kneel to your 
 relative's wife, you love her, and you are, 
 in a word, not a sufficiently honorable 
 man for me to desire to make you any 
 explanation." So thought Ellen. 
 
 "I beg you, speak out." 
 
 " What would it serve 1 We are, as 
 you yourself said, born with prejudices 
 against each other." 
 
 " Then you will not tell me why you 
 find it difficult to endure me 1 " 
 
 " Let us change the subject. Have 
 you read this poem 1 " Ellen handed 
 him Oehlenschlager's Axel and Wai- 
 fa org. 
 
 "Ah, you desire a literary conversa- 
 tion 1 " Uno smiled ironically. 
 
 " Not at all. It is only Axel's charao-
 
 28 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 ter which I would recommend you to 
 study." Ellen rose to go. 
 
 " And the reason 1 Is it his faithful- 
 ness which you consider that I ought to 
 take as a model 1 " 
 
 " Of your faithfulness I know nothing, 
 neither havs I any desire to remedy 
 my ignorance. No, it is Axel's re- 
 spect for his duty, the chivalrous and 
 elevated spirit in all his actions, which 
 I consider to be a worthy study for ev- 
 ery young man, especially for a noble- 
 man." 
 
 " Then you do not regard me as one 
 who places his duty above all else, who 
 possesses a chivalrous character ? " 
 
 11 The one who takes the position that 
 feeling alone ought to prevail, is a slave 
 to his passions." 
 
 " You are wrong, Ellen. I love every 
 expression of pure and noble feelings ; 
 but I despise every surrender to low and 
 miserable desires." 
 
 " Do you 1 " It would be impossible 
 to give the peculiar expression with 
 which Ellen uttered these words. There 
 was something of commiseration, some- 
 thing of contempt, in the tone. 
 
 Ebba now came to them, saying to 
 Uno, 
 
 " Promise me that you will do what I 
 ask of you." 
 
 " Ebba, I will not only do what you 
 ask of me, but I will do it with the great- 
 est pleasure, even if it were to travel on 
 foot from Haparanda to Ystad." 
 
 " Then sing for us some Spanish na- 
 tional songs." 
 
 "Yes, if you can persuade Ellen to 
 sing some Swedish ones first." 
 
 " I obtained your promise without 
 conditions," said Ebba, putting her head 
 on one side. 
 
 Uno seized her hands and said with 
 warmth, 
 
 " I will do it. Ebba has me for what- 
 ever she desires." 
 
 Ebba blushed so beautifully and tripped 
 into the saloon to announce her victory. 
 
 Uno rose to follow her. Looking at him 
 sharply, Ellen said, 
 
 " Was what you now said also in ac- 
 cordance with conscience and duty ? " 
 With this she hastened before him into 
 the saloon. 
 
 A moment after, Uno sang some of 
 those sweet, sentimental, and languishing 
 Spanish people's songs, in which there is 
 so much poesy, and a melody that goes 
 so to the depth of the heart, that one 
 is seized with a longing for I know not 
 what. He sung them with a fine, sono- 
 rous voice, full of feeling, and accompa- 
 nied himself with ease upon the piano. 
 It was the first time that Ellen heard 
 him sing. Leaning back in an easy- 
 chair, she listened, as if to tones from a 
 new and unknown world. She fancied 
 that every one of them struck a new 
 chord within her, and in order to aban- 
 don herself entirely to these impressions, 
 she closed her eyes. The singer had 
 disappeared, and she imagined that this 
 voice, at once so glowing and yet so de- 
 lightfully soothing, was wafted to her 
 from a higher and better world. She 
 allowed herself to be transported by this 
 tranquil and dreamy sensation so peculiar 
 to her temperament, but which was 
 destined to be gradually pressed aside 
 and only remain in the depths of her 
 soul as a melancholy longing. 
 
 Poor Ellen ! how many times, when 
 I have seen you with a weary look and 
 a cold, indifferent air dragged from one 
 vain and foolish pastime to another, have 
 I not pitied you and thought with pain 
 how seldom human beings are allowed to 
 stay in the place for which they seem 
 created. What had you, with your rich 
 soul, which longed for a quiet, unobserved 
 happiness, to do in the vortex of the 
 world 1 You stood there so alone and so 
 misunderstood by all. 
 
 When the song was ended, Ellen still 
 sat there. When they all surrounded 
 Uno and thanked him, Ellen alone re- 
 mained motionless.
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 29 
 
 "Well, Ellen," asked Sappho, "will 
 you not thank Uno for the pleasure he 
 has afforded us 1 " 
 
 " I cannot express my thanks for it," 
 answered Ellen, giving him her hand. 
 " The pleasure was too great for so poor 
 an acknowledgment." 
 
 At these words there was a flash of 
 light in Uno's black eyes, and they rested 
 on Ellen a second with a strange expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " That was praise more flattering than 
 any which my singing has hitherto 
 brought me." 
 
 " Only the truth. I never flatter." 
 
 " If my singing has afforded you an 
 actual pleasure, then grant me a prayer," 
 said Uno. 
 
 " Ask nothing of me," answered Ellen 
 quickly ) " I cannot grant you any- 
 thing." 
 
 " And yet I beg you, sing one single 
 Swedish people's song." Uno bent a knee 
 to Ellen, who was sitting in the same 
 easy-chair in which Sappho sat when she 
 had seen him on his knees before her. 
 Ellen's face, which had been so mild and 
 sweet before, became in an instant cold 
 and indifferent. She rose and said in a 
 low voice, " You fall on your knees too 
 often and too easily." Then she hastened 
 out on the balcony. 
 
 In the afternoon Ebba had a fever and 
 a severe headache, a result of the cold. 
 The next day she was obliged to keep 
 her bed. Ellen took her place beside her. 
 Sappho came up with the physician, who 
 declared that it was only a slight cold, 
 which would pass over in a few days. 
 
 */ 
 
 "But Mademoiselle Kahn looks far 
 more ill," said the doctor, as he looked 
 at her pale, tired face. 
 
 " Probably lack of rest," answered 
 Ellen, smiling. " I was so anxious about 
 Ebba in the night." 
 
 "Ellen raised blood yesterday," said 
 
 Alma, who was sitting on a stool at Ellen's 
 feet. 
 
 " Blood ! " exclaimed the Countess and 
 the doctor at the same time. 
 
 " It was not dangerous," said Ellen. 
 " It was only a consequence of my exert- 
 ing myself a little." 
 
 "Ah! but you lost so much blood, 
 Ellen," rejoined Alma, sorrowfully. 
 
 The doctor felt her pulse, gave a pre- 
 scription, and added the warning that she 
 should keep very quiet. 
 
 Some days elapsed, during which Ellen 
 and Ebba were not visible. Little or 
 rather nothing, was seen of Alma and 
 Arthur ; for where Ellen was, there were 
 they also. 
 
 On the fourth day after Ebba was 
 taken sick, she was up, but was not al- 
 lowed to leave her room. Ellen again 
 looked well and bright, but faithful to 
 the responsibility she had taken upon 
 herself of supplying Emy's place to her 
 child, she did not leave Ebba. 
 
 Counts Oscar and Uno, Magister Dahl 
 and Henrico, were sitting on the balcony. 
 
 "So you assert, Magister Dahl, that 
 nothing of pride and vanity exists in 
 Mademoiselle Kahn's disposition and 
 character 1 ? That she shuns all notice 
 and rather shrinks from attention 1 " 
 
 " Yes, Herr Count, that was my asser- 
 tion, and I really think that I am better 
 qualified to judge of her than others are, 
 for I have been in daily contact with her 
 for seven years. A more retiring and 
 sensitive nature than hers I have never 
 met. Endowed with a poet's soul and a 
 poet's ability, she is afraid to let any on^ 
 suspect all the wealth of her nature. I 
 have been her teacher, and I can say 
 without exaggeration that the pupil often 
 confounded the teacher with her penetra- 
 tion. You would be amazed if you 
 could look into her soul and see the 
 amount of knowledge that she has ac- 
 quired, and yet is there anything of the 
 'blue stocking' in her 1 ? " 
 
 " No ; but still there is an inner con-
 
 30 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 sciousness of her own superiority, a high 
 opinion of her own intellectual advan- 
 tages, which makes her lightly esteem 
 woman's sphere, and consider it beneath 
 her dignity to have a heart." 
 
 Uno's three hearers, who had all known 
 Ellen from childhood, burst into a laugh, 
 as if they had found what he said so 
 ridiculous that it did not deserve any- 
 thing but laughter. 
 
 " My dear Uno, you seem perfectly de- 
 termined to charge Ellen with faults 
 which she has never possessed." 
 
 " It is possible that I am mistaken ; 
 but I should be willing to bet a good 
 deal that she would never be able to 
 throw herself into any danger from devo- 
 tion ; she has too much regard for her- 
 self for that," 
 
 " Fie, Uno, how wicked you are !" burst 
 out Alma, who had stood in the door and 
 heard the whole conversation. "You 
 ought to have seen her when she helped 
 Ebba, how she tried to save her without 
 any thought of herself. And then when 
 she raised blood from the violent exer- 
 tion, how mild and angelic she was, while 
 Ebba was in perfect despair. I have al- 
 ways seen Ellen manifest a goodness far 
 greater than any one else has given proof 
 of, and yet you say that she has no heart. 
 How well she took care of the old servant 
 at Holmvik, rode after the doctor her- 
 self, and attended to her as if the old wo- 
 man had been her mother ; and while 
 she was doing all this, you others were 
 only finding fault with her. I heard all 
 that you and Ochard said." 
 
 " I believe that you are angry with 
 Uno," exclaimed Oscar, laughing. 
 
 " Yes, papa, am I not right ] " 
 
 " Perfectly, my child." 
 
 "And I shall have to lay down my 
 arms," said Uno. 
 
 " I think each and all who attack 
 Ellen will be obliged to do that," ob- 
 served Henrico, with a slight blush, " and 
 yet she is not perfect by any means. 
 The charm of her character lies just in 
 
 the fact that she has a multitude of 
 small faults, which make her like other 
 people." 
 
 "And what then are these faults? I 
 almost believed that you had all con- 
 cluded to regard her as a saint." 
 
 " Not at all," said Dahl, smiling. " As 
 a pupil she was very capricious and 
 often intractable. If she took a notion 
 to devote herself exclusively to history, 
 it was next to impossible to get her to 
 give any attention to other subjects 
 before she had been allowed to follow 
 her fancy for several days. Then she 
 would come to me and say, 'Are you 
 angry with me, my teacher] Do not 
 be so, I will now study whatever you 
 desire.' At other times she did not 
 study at all, but spent hours in only 
 playing and dreaming, and then it was 
 impossible to force her. Besides Ellen 
 is stubborn. You will never succeed in 
 changing any conviction of hers, even if 
 it is false. She easily forgives injustice, 
 but she does not forget that you com- 
 mitted it. That is to say, if you have 
 judged her actions wrongly, she will 
 pardon it, but it would be impossible to 
 persuade her that you could ever judge 
 her rightly. Moreover, she is often led 
 by her fancy, and ascribes qualities to 
 people which they utterly lack, if they 
 only succeed in striking any of her no- 
 bler instincts. She can have the utmost 
 mildness, charity, and toleration ; but 
 yet be severe and bitter, if you offend 
 her ideas of right. For that which she 
 considers right she will sacrifice herself 
 without complaint. Such is Ellen." 
 
 " I would like to resemble her, even 
 in her faults," said Alma. " Do you not 
 wish, papa, that I was like her 1 " 
 
 "No, my child, I would have you 
 just as you are." 
 
 Soon after Uno, a condemner of all 
 revery, wandered through the park a 
 dreamer himself, and thought of Axel's 
 character in Oehlenschlager's tragedy.
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN". 
 
 31 
 
 In a few days Ebba was completely 
 recovered. One morning after breakfast 
 Ellen had gone down to the park ; when 
 she returned and was about to enter the 
 saloon, she heard Sappho say, 
 
 " I forgive you, Uno ; but only from 
 love to Oscar. Because you are his rela- 
 tive, I will forget that you have wounded 
 me so deeply." 
 
 "Thanks, dear Sappho, and believe 
 me when I solemnly assure you that I 
 would give much if this unfortunate 
 declaration had never passed my lips. I 
 admire you and shall never forget you." 
 
 " Enough ! We are thus friends again." 
 Sappho gave him her hand, and Ellen 
 stepped in. 
 
 In the afternoon Uno, Ebba, and 
 Ellen amused themselves by playing 
 graces. Count Arthur, Alma, and Ar- 
 thur had taken a walk down to the 
 iron furnace. Henrico had gone away, 
 and the Countess sat in the saloon, en- 
 gaged in an animated conversation with 
 Magister-Dhal. 
 
 Ebba was in high spirits. She threw 
 the hoop high and let it describe a mag- 
 nificent circle, as she exclaimed, 
 
 " Let us see, Uno, if you can catch it 1 " 
 
 Uno caught it, and said, 
 
 " How could you think that I should 
 fail when you threw it ? " 
 
 " Well, do not keep it but throw it to 
 Ellen," cried Ebba with a beaming look. 
 
 " I will either keep it, or send it back 
 to you." Uno's glance rested on Ebba 
 with a peculiar delight, but flitted for a 
 second from her to Ellen, who stood 
 motionless, leaning on her stick. 
 
 "Then throw it here," said Ebba, 
 " and let us finish." 
 
 Uno complied with her desire, but the 
 warm and animated glances were no 
 longer fastened on Ebba. The young 
 girl did not observe this, however, in her 
 effort to catch the hoop. 
 
 " Ah, I have missed it," she exclaimed 
 in a troubled voice. At the same instant 
 the hoop fell at her feet and she lowered 
 
 her sticks with an expression of sadness ; 
 a tear trembled in her eye. 
 
 Uno hastened forward, picked up the 
 hoop and handed it to Ebba, saying, 
 
 " It considers it the right place to lie 
 at Ebba's feet." 
 
 " Thanks, thanks," stammered Ebba, 
 blooming as a rose and glad as a bird. 
 She took the hoop and hurried into the 
 saloon. 
 
 Ellen and Uno found themselves alone 
 on the open lawn. 
 
 "Shall we follow Ebba?" asked Uno. 
 
 Ellen approached him, saying with 
 deep earnestness, 
 
 " Uno, you are playing a dangerous 
 game." 
 
 " What do you refer to ? " Uno's eyes 
 sank before Ellen's gaze. 
 
 " You are exerting all your power to 
 make Ebba love you, that charming 
 child, whose heart flies to meet you with- 
 out distrust. You act wrongly ! " 
 
 "Why, Ellen? Tell me!" What 
 was it in Uno's voice that brought a fine 
 rosy hue to Ellen's cheeks 1 Was it the 
 peculiar trembling? We cannot say; 
 but what we do know is, that she raised 
 her head a little as if indignant at the 
 blood's agitation, and answered, 
 
 " Because you do not love her." 
 
 "And who then do I love ? " Uno 
 seized Ellen's hand as if to keep her, but 
 dropped it directly, for all emotion had 
 disappeared from her face and she looked 
 at him with a calm and steady expression. 
 
 " That question your own heart will 
 answer best, if you will listen to it, and 
 not play with others' hearts for pastime. 
 Ebba is too good for such trifling." 
 
 " Is she too good to become my wife ? " 
 asked Uno coldly. 
 
 " Yes, when you can only offer her 
 your hand and not your heart." 
 
 " But I intend to offer her my heart." 
 
 Ellen threw her head back and said 
 with stern earnestness, " Can you do it ? " 
 
 These words, this so simple question, 
 seemed to drive the blood in a swift
 
 32 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 course through Uuo's veins, for he made a 
 
 hasty motion of the head, and asked in a 
 
 tone that sounded almost angry, 
 
 " And what should hinder me 1 " 
 
 " Your honor. You cannot offer Ebba 
 
 what you do not possess." Ellen went 
 
 in. Uno stood still and looked after her 
 
 with an expression that reminded one oi 
 
 Vesuvius in an eruption. 
 
 " Has she guessed my secret 1 " mut- 
 tered he. " No, I have scarcely be- 
 trayed it to myself." 
 
 That evening we again find Ellen sit- 
 ting on the edge of Ebba's bed. 
 
 " Ebba, do you know what your moth- 
 er said when she went away 1 " began 
 Ellen. 
 
 " No, but tell me, dear Ellen." 
 
 " She bade me watch over you as if 
 you were my own child, and give you 
 back to her as joyous and happy as ever. 
 I promised to do so, and now I fear that 
 I shall not be able to keep my word. 
 This would trouble me deeply." 
 
 " Am I then not as joyous as I used to 
 be 1 " asked Ebba with downcast eyes. 
 
 11 yes, but your happiness no longer 
 proceeds from yourself, but depends upon 
 another. How restless you were those 
 days that you were compelled to keep 
 your room ! Why were you so ? Tell 
 me." 
 
 " I wished to see Uno," answered Ebba 
 looking her foster-sister frankly in the 
 eye. Ellen bent down and kissed her. 
 
 " Tell me now, what is your feeling for 
 Uno." 
 
 " I like him very much, and have an 
 inexpressible desire that he should like 
 me most of all." 
 
 "And if he did not?" 
 
 " I should feel sorry." 
 
 "But you would then think less of 
 him?" 
 
 " Perhaps. I think I should be angry 
 with him." 
 
 " Then you believe he is very fond of 
 you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I certainly do." 
 
 "But, Ebba, with my hand on my 
 heart I can solemnly assure you that he 
 does not love you." Ellen took both 
 Ebba's hands in hers and pressed them to 
 her heart. " Do not turn pale, child, do 
 not look so sad, but believe me, when I 
 swear in the name of God that Uno loves, 
 but not you. 0, do not weep dear 
 child ! Think of your mother, think of 
 me, and do not fasten your heart to this 
 man, who cannot give you his." 
 
 A few tears had quickly run down 
 Ebba's cheeks, but she dried them im- 
 mediately. 
 
 "Ellen, are you sure of what you 
 say 1 " 
 
 " Perfectly ; or do you think that I 
 would tell you what I did not know with 
 certainty to be true ? " 
 
 " Thanks ! " Ebba twined her arms 
 about Ellen's neck. " Thank you, my 
 Ellen, and now, good night ! " 
 
 Ebba lay still and quiet for an hour, 
 but then she cried to Ellen, 
 
 " Are you asleep ? " 
 
 " Not yet ; we have not said our 
 prayers, Ebba. I waited for you to speak 
 of it." 
 
 Ebba now lifted her heart, touched by 
 sorrow, to God ; Ellen prayed also for her 
 beloved foster-mother's child; and then 
 they both fell asleep. 
 
 The next day Uno sat with Ellen, 
 who had her work out on the terrace. 
 
 " You have several times uttered words 
 ;o me, Ellen, which I do not rightly un- 
 derstand, and particularly last evening. 
 Give me an explanation of them. As 
 hey concern me, my request is reason- 
 able." 
 
 " What do you wish me to explain 1 " 
 
 "Your assertion, for example, that I 
 )layed with Ebba's heart."
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 33 
 
 "And I still assert it. You do not 
 love this innocent child, and yet you 
 throw so much tenderness into your 
 manner towards her, that she as well 
 as every one else could believe in this 
 attention." 
 
 "But this tenderness is not false. 
 From the first moment I saw Ebba, I 
 have had but one desire, and that is to 
 call her my wife. This charming child, 
 as you have very correctly called her, 
 whose every feeling may be read in her 
 face, whose heart lies on her lips, appears 
 to me so lovely, that I fancy happiness 
 to be inseparable from her side. So I 
 thought at our first meeting, so I think 
 at the present moment, 
 
 Ellen leaned back in her chair and 
 looked at him earnestly, almost sadly. 
 
 " Do you actually mean to say that 
 you love Ebba 1 ?" This question was 
 uttered with a certain deliberation. 
 
 " No, not a my heart would like to 
 love her," 
 
 "Not even as it can love." 
 "Ellen!" exclaimed Uno, and again 
 there was a flash of light in his eyes. 
 
 " Would you doom Ebba to the sad lot 
 of being the wife of a man who could only 
 give her the second place in his heart]" 
 
 "No, I would not do it now. Your 
 words yesterday awakened in me the 
 thought of how contemptible it would be 
 to sacrifice her happiness for my own ; 
 for I shall never be able to love Ebba 
 as I love " 
 
 " Sappho ! " exclaimed Ellen involun- 
 tarily ; but scarcely had the word passed 
 her lips before she repented it, and she 
 would have recalled it at any price. 
 
 Uno started and looked at Ellen as 
 if he doubted that he had heard aright. 
 
 " Sappho ! my relative's wife ! You 
 have thus considered me capable of such 
 baseness] I had however believed that 
 you regarded me as an honorable man." 
 There was something simple and digni- 
 fied in Uno's whole bearing which pow- 
 erfully impressed Ellen. 
 
 "Could I have done you injustice? 
 Could I have been mistaken 1 " ex- 
 claimed Ellen, and offered him her hand. 
 " Forgive me ! " 
 
 "How easy to forgive you, Ellen!" 
 replied Uno with emotion. " You have 
 been cruelly mistaken in the object of 
 my love ; but you were right in saying 
 that I did not love Ebba." Uno kept 
 Ellen's hand in his, and the young girl 
 fancied that she heard her heart beat. 
 She drew her hand gently from his. 
 Both were silent. Ellen bent down over 
 her work. Uno wrote in the sand with 
 his cane. 
 
 " What led you to the thought that I 
 loved Sappho ] " asked Uno at length. 
 
 " I saw you kneel before her," stam- 
 mered Ellen. 
 
 " Ah ! how appearances can deceive ! " 
 Again they both kept silence. 
 
 Ellen's eyes fell unintentionally upon 
 that which he wrote. Uno's cane had 
 stopped under a name which he had 
 written in the sand, as if he pointed 
 to it. Ellen hastily turned away her 
 head, rose, and went in. 
 
 Uno effaced the word written in the 
 sand, and sat there a long time absorbed 
 in thought. 
 
 Later in the evening he approached 
 Ellen, saying, 
 
 " Shall I never be allowed to hear you 
 sing 1 ? Sing this evening." 
 
 "When my betrothed comes back, 
 then I will sing," replied Ellen, without 
 looking up from her work. 
 
 Uno's glance darkened and he left her. 
 
 That evening, after all had retired, 
 Ellen wrote a postscript to a letter to her 
 betrothed. It contained these words, 
 
 " My friend, come as soon you can. 
 I feel a great need of seeing you again." 
 
 The three weeks which remained before 
 Evert could ceme to Lb'da passed without 
 anything noteworthy. Uno carefully
 
 34 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 avoided Ellen, and had in his manner 
 towards Ebba assumed something of the 
 uncle. The cordial intimacy had disap- 
 peared; he no longer took part in the 
 young people's games, but accompanied 
 Oscar upon his excursions, and went 
 hunting with him and the neighbors. 
 He was with the ladies very seldom, 
 except at meals. All saw this change, 
 but no one attached any importance 
 to it. 
 
 Lieutenant Henrico and Magister Dahl, 
 instead, exerted all their power to en- 
 liven the others, and succeeded. Ebba 
 did not trouble herself at all about 
 Uno's absence, but was joyous, full of 
 life, and now as ever Magister Dahl's 
 most unmanageable and most beloved 
 pupil. Henrico was polite, cordial, some- 
 times tender, towards Ellen; but there 
 was something so brotherly in this 
 friendliness, that she received and re- 
 sponded to it without distrust. 
 
 One day at breakfast, when the post 
 .-arrived, Ellen received a letter from 
 ,Evert. She went to one of the saloon 
 -.windows and opened it. 
 
 " Well, when is Ochard coming 1 " in- 
 r quired Oscar. 
 
 " In two days," replied Ellen. 
 
 Magister Dahl took his hat and left 
 the dining-hall. Uno went into the sa- 
 loon, placed himself at the instrument 
 and played a storm march. 
 
 One glorious moonlight night in Au- 
 gust, when they had all gone for a 
 promenade in the park, Ellen remained 
 at home alone, because she felt tired 
 and a little low-spirited besides. After 
 the others had gone, she seated herself 
 at the piano and abandoned herself with 
 her whole heart to the fancies, which in 
 a variegated throng marched through her 
 soul. She tried through tones to give 
 them form. The servant would have 
 closed the glass doors to the terrace and 
 lighted the candles, but Ellen wished to 
 sit in the moonlight and inhale the 
 balmy fragrance from the garden. 
 
 While she gave herself up to the 
 dreamy delight of the hour, the prome- 
 naders had strolled round the park and 
 returned. The young people, with Alma's 
 governess, decided to go to the furnace 
 to see the ore run. The Count, Count- 
 ess, and Uno went into the garden. Tho 
 weather was so magnificent and warm, 
 that Sappho drew Oscar down on a bench 
 under a pair of poplars, from whence one 
 saw the dam shadowed with trees and 
 shrubs, in whose mirror-like water the 
 moon bathed its face. Sappho, who still 
 loved her husband with the same ardent 
 love as in youth, was glad to sit and 
 dream at his side, especially on such a 
 beautiful summer evening. She then in 
 double measure enjoyed her happiness, 
 continually the same and yet continually 
 new. 
 
 When Sappho and Oscar seated them- 
 selves in the garden, Uno said, 
 
 " As I am not a dreamer, allow me to 
 leave you to the God of solitude and 
 love." Then he went up to the house, 
 but stopped on the terrace and listened. 
 In the saloon a sweet and wonderful 
 voice sang the last strophe of a ballad : 
 
 "And the song, it flew over the waves." 
 
 The tones died away gradually, like a 
 sigh full of melody. 
 
 " Ellen," whispered a voice behind the 
 singer, " sing that song again. 0, do 
 not refuse me the only prayer that I 
 shall ever address to thee I " 
 
 Ellen turned round, and the moon's rays 
 fell on Uno's face. There was not now 
 that singular Southern flame in his eyes 
 which had sometimes almost frightened 
 her ; there lay in them a prayer, touch- 
 ing and sorrowful. A slight trembling 
 passed through her whole being at the 
 " thee " which he uttered so beseechingly. 
 The young girl knew the danger of this 
 moment, and in order to fly it, she let 
 her hands glide over the keys and then 
 repeated the ballad, whose close Uno 
 had heard.
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 35 
 
 With his hands resting on the back 
 of her chair, Uno listened with bated 
 breath to this sweet and melting voice. 
 It seemed to him that his heart softened 
 and became gentle and pure as a child 
 while these tones soothed his ear. Again 
 the song died away and " flew over the 
 waves." 
 
 "Thanks, Ellen," faltered Uno, and 
 Ellen fancied that his breath touched 
 her hair. When she rose, he was gone. 
 Slie went to the window, clasped her 
 hands, and whispered a silent prayer to 
 the Father above. 
 
 Two days subsequent Evert clasped 
 his betrothed to his heart. Ellen stole 
 to him with a shy and tender glance. 
 Perhaps never before had he been so 
 heartily greeted by his betrothed as this 
 time. 
 
 Evert stayed at Loda, and Ellen ap- 
 peared to him more friendly and tender 
 than ever. A week elapsed. Uno had 
 the day before Evert's arrival gone to 
 
 Baron G 's and had not yet returned, 
 
 when a letter came saying that they 
 could expect Count Rubens back in a 
 few days. Count Oscar and Evert went 
 to Holmvik early the next morning. 
 
 After they had gone, Ellen, faithful to 
 her favorite habit, went down to the 
 park. On reaching a hillside at the edge 
 of the stream, where she was fond of 
 dreaming away an unobserved moment, 
 she stopped, for before her lay a young 
 man outstretched on the grass. His 
 face was turned away, but in the black 
 curly hair and the slender frame she 
 recognized Uno. She was just going to 
 draw back, when an object which raised 
 its head from the grass and seemed to 
 wish to take a promenade up the young 
 man's bare throat, caused her to utter a 
 faint cry ; but when Uno at this turned 
 round, she cried, 
 
 "For God's sake, be still, Uno. I 
 entreat thee, do not move, from mercy," 
 added she as he made a motion with his 
 hand to lean it on the lower part of the 
 
 snake, which crawled close by him and 
 had a glittering eye for the exposed 
 throat. 
 
 With a few light steps the fearless girl 
 was at his side. She had wrapped her 
 handkerchief around her right hand, and 
 seizing the snake rashly by the middle, 
 she flung it into the stream. When she 
 threw herself down on her knees beside 
 Uno, she supported her left hand against 
 his shoulder while she despatched the 
 snake, without heeding the familiarity of 
 the position she had taken. When the 
 danger was over, she turned her face, pale 
 from anxiety, to Uno, asking, 
 
 " Uno, you are unhurt 1 " 
 
 " Yes, through thee" He seized her 
 right hand, the left still rested on his 
 shoulder. At the sound of the warm 
 voice and this thee, it was as if Ellen had 
 come back to herself; she took her 
 hand away hastily and would have drawn 
 back. 
 
 " Stay a moment only," said Uno be- 
 seechingly ; " seat yourself at my side. 
 Oh ! " He checked himself, carried her 
 hand to his lips and whispered : " Thanks, 
 angel ! " Then he sprang up. They now 
 stood beside each other.* She would 
 have gone, but he said, " I will leave 
 here to-morrow. But until my death 
 shall I preserve the remembrance of this 
 morning and my saviour." He took 
 her two hands, and pressed them violent- 
 ly as he added : " Will Ellen also think 
 of this moment sometimes; think of 
 Uno ? " 
 
 " I will," faltered she. 
 
 " That is all I have the right to ask, 
 to hope." Uno's lips pressed a hot kiss 
 on each of her hands, and then he re- 
 linquished them. 
 
 They both walked home in silence. 
 
 The next morning Uno went to the 
 capital. 
 
 Two months after this the marriage of 
 the Justice Evert of Ochard and Ellen 
 Kahn was celebrated. 
 
 The bride's dowry was one hundred
 
 36 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 thousand riks thalcrs, besides fifty thou- 
 sand which, through a special arrange- 
 ment, constituted a sort of capital between 
 the parties. Of the interest of the last- 
 named amount, Ellen alone possessed the 
 full disposal. 
 
 The bride was lovely and captivating, 
 and the Justice the happiest of all happy 
 mortals. 
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 
 
 FOUR YEARS LATER. 
 
 THE month of January, with its north- 
 ern lights, its frost, its snow-covered 
 streets, its clear, cold sun, and its amuse- 
 ments, approached its close, as we bring 
 you, dear reader, one beautiful morning, 
 into the Justice of Ochard's elegant and 
 sumptuous abode. The young couple 
 had enjoyed matrimonial felicity a little 
 over four years. 
 
 They had made a journey to the Con- 
 tinent the first year, and on their return 
 to Stockholm entered society with all the 
 luxury that wealth could command. 
 
 The married pair were, it is true, the 
 objects of many invidious remarks, but 
 of yet more courting and flattery, and 
 counted an untold number of friends. 
 
 Ellen was considered by one and all 
 a gifted, captivating, and lovely woman, 
 although somewhat too vain, for with 
 her elegance and grace she cast others 
 into the shade. She lived in great style, 
 mingled in the highest circles, attended 
 all festivities, and was regarded as one 
 who was devoted, heart and soul, to the 
 pleasures of society. The envious tra- 
 duced her, the good-hearted kept silent, 
 and flattery kindled its incense before 
 the young and wealthy woman. Be- 
 sides, she was regarded as a literary per- 
 son, for she had published a little col- 
 lection of poems which won general 
 approbation. It can be seen from this, 
 that Ellen belonged to those who ought 
 to be sharply censured, for nothing gives 
 
 greater offence with commonplace people 
 than that innate superiority which can 
 be procured neither through money nor 
 intrigue. The natural consequence is, 
 that one who possesses this becomes the 
 object of calumny and persecutions. 
 
 We find the married pair in a little 
 cabinet. Ellen sits curled up in an easy- 
 chair, listening to her husband with an 
 abstracted air. Evert had taken his 
 place at a small table. Before him lay a 
 list, upon which he made notes with a 
 pencil. 
 
 "This evening there is the reception 
 at President S***, and Don Juan be- 
 sides at the Royal Opera. You cannot, 
 my dear, miss being at both places. So 
 make a short visit to the Opera and drive 
 round to the President's at half past ten." 
 
 "But I assure you, Evert, that this 
 chase from pleasure to pleasure wearies 
 me," replied Ellen. 
 
 " My dear Ellen, think of what we owe 
 to our position in society. I am rich, 
 rich through you ; and if we lived retired, 
 would it not look in the eyes of the world 
 as if I were a miser, who only thought of 
 investing his money. And besides, what 
 enjoyment could one then have of exist- 
 ence 1 None. Now, on the contrary, for- 
 tune gives me the opportunity of leading 
 a life agreeable in every respect. My 
 horses excite admiration whenever we 
 drive out ; my establishment is consid- 
 ered the most elegant, an actual model, 
 after which all desire to pattern their 
 dwellings ; for a great part of the furni- 
 ture is imported. I am the one who 
 gives the ton in our society. People 
 know that what I have is modern and 
 tasteful, as well as manufactured in Paris. 
 You again are the object of all the ladies' 
 envy and all the gentlemen's admiration. 
 When you appear in a company, one 
 examines every detail of your attire ; 
 have you a new, foreign style in your 
 dress, your mantle, or an unusual ma- 
 terial, the other ladies will take pattern 
 from it directly. You are young, you
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 37 
 
 are rich, you are a genius, and besides 
 my wife ; you ought consequently to live 
 iu the world which pays homage to you, 
 and think that this homage is a real 
 pleasure to me ; for the applause which 
 we reap from our fellow-beings contributes 
 very essentially to the true value of life. 
 Besides, you ought to consider what a 
 great advantage it is to me to live in fine 
 style and associate in the higher circles. 
 I win favor, and through this it will be 
 easy for me to get promoted before others, 
 who neither possess my merits nor the 
 ability to gain friends and protectors 
 through the means which wealth affords. 
 President S***, for example, is obliged 
 to borrow money ; he turns to me. At 
 the next promotion he says a good word 
 for me to the government, and I am ad- 
 vanced directly. I have a fine house, 
 and people strive to get entrance to it. 
 The result is that they have every reason 
 in the world to favor my success. We 
 have entirely left the subject, and I am 
 obliged to be in court at eleven o'clock. 
 You will thus go to the Opera this even- 
 ing, where I will come for you, as I shall 
 
 dine with Count . Apropos, Ellen, 
 
 you really made me feel bad at the con- 
 cert Tuesday, when I came to accompany 
 you home. Goodness, how you were 
 dressed, black as a mm ! " 
 
 " My friend, one is always well dressed 
 in black."' 
 
 " May be ; but for you, whom every- 
 body knows to be my wife, it is necessary 
 to dress exquisitely. When you appear 
 at the Opera or at a concert, people say, 
 ' Fru Ochard, the poetess ! ' and then 
 they begin to survey your toilet from the 
 greatest to the least. My pride is that 
 you shall be dressed with a tasteful lux- 
 ury. What do you intend to wear this 
 evening ]" 
 
 " I have not yet thought about it." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear, you are unwarrant- 
 ably indifferent to everything that ought 
 to interest you. God knows, Ellen, 
 what you are thinking of. I find it more 
 
 and more necessary to meddle in your 
 toilet, else it would be an utter failure. 
 I suppose you will wear a light silk to 
 the Opera ? " 
 
 "Yes, I shall endeavor to be dressed 
 according to your taste." Ellen smiled 
 faintly. 
 
 "At President S***'s you must be 
 dressed in black, for it is the first time 
 that you are invited there. Too bad, 
 that you persist in not having a black 
 velvet dress, silk and moire-antique are 
 so common. Now I am obliged to leave 
 you. Have you thought of trying to 
 win a prize in the Swedish academy I 
 You have promised me to do so, have 
 you not ? " 
 
 " To gratify you I will make the en- 
 deavor." 
 
 " It is inexpressibly annoying that you 
 from sheer obstinacy refuse to improvise 
 in company. What a light would you 
 not become in society, if you could aban- 
 don that silly resolution, which is utterly 
 destitute of common sense." Evert rose 
 from his chair and went to his wife, 
 saying with a certain tenderness : "Shall 
 my prayers not prevail upon you to 
 fulfil my desire 1 " 
 
 Ellen laid her hand in his. 
 
 " In all else, Evert, I will meet your 
 wishes ; but never can you persuade me 
 to appear in society as a juggler who 
 amuses the company with her tricks. 
 No, this power to dream while awake is 
 a failing, and I do not wish to become 
 prominent through it as some incom- 
 prehensible thing which people at once 
 praise and censure. At your request I 
 have written down these effusions of the 
 moment and allowed them to be pub- 
 lished ; but every shadow of inspiration 
 and enthusiasm would disappear, if I was 
 doomed to improvise before these people 
 who do not understand me. Be content 
 with giving some of my poetical noth- 
 ings to the world, and ask no more 
 of me." 
 
 Evert looked displeased, swung on his
 
 38 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 heel, and, muttering something about 
 caprice and obstinacy, went into his room. 
 An hour afterward he came out, clad in 
 a black swallow-tail coat, ready to at- 
 tend court. 
 
 Our Justice bestowed no little time 
 upon his toilet. The part of the day 
 which other young men in court were 
 obliged to devote to work was employed 
 by him in studying the cut of his coats, 
 cloaks, cravats, vests, etc., etc. He was 
 rich, he paid others to work for him, 
 while he gratified his desire of appearing 
 as a handsome and elegant young man, 
 which no one could dispute that he was. 
 
 "I suppose you remember that Bar- 
 oness Ernstein expects you at noon 1 I 
 think you were to take a ride to Djur- 
 garden together 1 I will order the gray 
 horses to be harnessed to the double 
 sleigh. Adieu, my dear. Do not forget 
 that to-morrow is the ball at his Excel- 
 lency D 's, and the day after we 
 
 have a reception ourselves. You ought 
 to devote a little consideration to your 
 toilet for that day and also to your 
 music." Evert kissed Ellen's brow and 
 left the room. 
 
 The young wife remained sitting a long 
 time as if wearied out and incapable of 
 any motion. Her expressionless gaze 
 was fastened on the ceiling. There lay 
 in it something in the highest degree 
 indifferent and fatigued, which gave a 
 lax and soulless stamp to the whole face. 
 She looked as if she did not think of 
 anything, but gave herself up to a com- 
 plete rest. From this waking trance she 
 was aroused by the entrance of her maid. 
 
 " The Justice bade me tell you that 
 Baroness Ernstein expects your Grace 
 at twelve o'clock. It is now half past 
 eleven. What dress will, you wear 1 " 
 
 "Ah, Ingrid, is it you?" said Ellen. 
 And a smile full of kindness glided over 
 the pale features as she offered the girl 
 her hand. 
 
 Ingrid was an orphan who had grown 
 up in the neighborhood of Holmvik, 
 
 and was some years older than Ellen. 
 They had known each other as long 
 back as they could remember, and In- 
 grid had more than once been allowed 
 to take part in the children's plays at 
 Holmvik, for she was the favorite of 
 them all and especially Ellen's. When 
 she had been confirmed, Countess Ru- 
 bens engaged her as Ellen's waiting-girl. 
 When Ellen married, Ingrid, who loved 
 her with her whole heart, accompanied 
 her to the new home as lady's-maid. 
 
 Ingrid had through Emy's care re- 
 ceived an education which raised her 
 above an ordinary servant and developed 
 her naturally good faculties. She was 
 now called Mamsell Ingrid, and had, be- 
 sides the position of lady's-maid, the 
 supervision over all the servants. 
 
 Ingrid seized the extended hand and 
 kissed it. 
 
 " How pale my beloved mistress is to- 
 day," said she. 
 
 "I am tired of these continual late 
 hours, Ingrid. Ah ! if I could live far 
 from all this bustle, this so-called pleas- 
 ure, in some corner, hidden and forgot- 
 ten." Ellen rose. "Yes, I suppose I 
 must dress for that sleigh-ride." She 
 sighed. "My life is a constant toilet. 
 My days are spent in the incessant 
 occupation of changing attire A use- 
 ful life, heaven knows ! " 
 
 "But your Grace works between 
 times ] " 
 
 "II" Ellen smiled bitterly. "Work 
 and I are strangers to each other. I 
 have no time to work. There, it is a 
 quarter to twelve ; I have again barely 
 time to get dressed. 
 
 Ingrid was the only being in whose 
 presence Ellen allowed any reflections 
 upon her life to eecape her. If she then 
 sometimes "thought aloud," it was be- 
 cause she knew that Ingrid was as mute 
 as the walls. 
 
 At a quarter to one an elegant sleigh 
 stopped before Baroness Ernstein's resi- 
 dence. The spirited and exceedingly
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 beautiful horses, the stately coachman, 
 the lady who sat in the sleigh in her ex- 
 quisite winter toilet, all drew the atten- 
 tion of the passer-by. People stopped 
 and looked after the handsome equipage. 
 
 In the evening Ellen showed herself 
 at the Royal Opera and was through her 
 luxury the object of a thousand remarks. 
 Evert came for his wife after the third 
 act. 
 
 Aa hour later several gentlemen stood 
 conversing in a group in the outer saloon 
 at President S***'s. 
 
 " So, my dear Count, you are going to 
 stay in Sweden through the winter," said 
 a young Baron to Count Uno Kerner, 
 who stood in the midst of the group. 
 
 " Yes, such is my intention," replied 
 the Count. 
 
 " I suppose you have seen Count Oscar 
 Kerner and Arthur Rubens 1 " 
 
 " Not yet. I have only been in Stock- 
 holm two days." 
 
 " They are both staying in the capital 
 on account of the Diet." 
 
 Just then a young couple entered the 
 saloon. All the gentlemen in the group 
 saluted them, Uno included. It was 
 Justice Ochard and his wife. When 
 Ellen saw Uno, a delicate, almost imper- 
 ceptible color tinged her pale cheeks. 
 His greeting was cold and measured. He 
 followed with his eyes the lady whose 
 apparel was now, as always, costly and 
 exquisite. 
 
 " Do you know Fru Ochard, Count 1 " 
 asked the Baron. 
 
 " I have seen her at Rubens." 
 
 " Yes, that is true ; she was brought 
 up with them. Fru Ochard is a lady 
 who is very much in the mode ; less 
 through her beauty, although she is very 
 fine looking, than through her genius, 
 her taste, and the style in which she 
 lives. The Ochards are always to be 
 found in the dizzy round of pleasure, and 
 eclipse all others by their magnificence. 
 This seems to have been the chief object 
 of her ambition, to stand before all other 
 
 women in the circle in which she moves. 
 She is a lovely woman in every respect, 
 but indisputably very vain." The gen- 
 tlemen separated. 
 
 "My first judgment of Ellen was thus 
 correct," thought Uno, who withdrew 
 into a window recess, and regarded Ellen 
 as she sat surrounded by a swarm of 
 young men, with whom she gayly con- 
 versed. " The moment's triumph, that 
 is the aim, which these women who are 
 reputed geniuses seek to attain. What 
 an empty life is this foolish chase after 
 distinctions which in themselves are 
 worth nothing ! How can a good and 
 warm-hearted person make it the object 
 of her life to go from one diversion to an- 
 other, day and night, coveting nothing 
 higher than to dazzle with a fine exte- 
 rior ! Impossible ! Empty is the brain 
 which is not able to comprehend that we 
 ought to live for a nobler end, and empty 
 the heart which seeks its happiness in 
 such a worthless endeavor." Uno stole 
 unobserved from the President's full 
 house, and went home. 
 
 While his valet helped the Count to 
 exchange his black coat for a dressing- 
 gown, he said, 
 
 " According to your order, Herr Count, 
 I have taken books from the bookstore. 
 
 Herr B gave me some which you 
 
 had not asked for, but which he told 
 me to bring home for you to look at." 
 
 " Very well. Lay the package on the 
 table and place' my reading-lamp be- 
 side it." 
 
 When the valet had obeyed the direc- 
 tion, he left the room. The Coun* 
 stretched himself out on a lounge and 
 opened the package. The first book that 
 fell into his hands was, "Short Poems 
 by Ellen of Ochard." He threw the book 
 far from him with a gesture of indigna- 
 tion and muttered, " Everything from 
 her breathes vanity and only vanity." 
 He again took up the book and read : 
 "'Ellen of Ochard.' The whole name 
 given so that no one should doubt that
 
 40 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 it is she. As a girl an improvisatrice, 
 as a wife a poetess, a woman of the world 
 and a coquette. Bah ! She has be- 
 come what I predicted." He turned the 
 leaves and opened to, "The Happiness 
 of Home." At the sight of this title he 
 burst into a loud laugh. 
 
 " ' The happiness of home ! ' That is 
 excellent ! Here we have a striking 
 proof of my assertion, that these beings 
 with imagination can paint what they 
 never felt, what they do not even care 
 for in reality. They choose their subject 
 according to what they think will strike 
 the public, but the heart remains cold, 
 whatever they may write about. They 
 only calculate the effect which they are 
 able to produce." Again the book was 
 thrown to one side, and the Count took 
 another, without reading a single word in 
 Ellen's collection. 
 
 Two days afterwards there was a large 
 and brilliant ball at the Ochards'. Ellen 
 received her guests with the ease which 
 intercourse with the great world bestows. 
 Warm and cordial was the smile with 
 which she welcomed the Rubens and Ker- 
 ner families. Ebba and Alma were be- 
 trothed. The former to an amiable young 
 man, Baron Alfred Angerfeldt, and the 
 latter to Lieutenant Henrico ; a fancy 
 which had grown up with her, and which 
 was entirely in harmony with Count Ker- 
 ner's wishes and plans for her future. 
 
 They had already danced the first two 
 dances. Ellen stood in the middle of a 
 smaller saloon, conversing with Ebba, who 
 leaned on Baron Alfred's arm. Suddenly 
 Ebba exclaimed, " Why see there ! " and 
 smiled at the object of her surprise. 
 Ellen turned. Uno stood bowing before 
 the ladies. Their first meeting had 
 been so in passing that Ellen had 
 merely time to recognize him. He now 
 stood before her with that cold polite- 
 ness in his whole demeanor and that 
 
 peculiar indifference in his glance which 
 had so wounded her in the beginning 
 of their acquaintance. While she wel- 
 comed him in some courteous words, 
 the remembrance of their last meet- 
 ing on the bank of the stream, and his 
 words, "I shall always remember this 
 moment," were vividly recalled to her 
 soul. Could he have forgotten this part- 
 ing 1 ! There was nothing in his look 
 which gave her reason to believe the 
 contrary. Ellen had preserved the rec- 
 ollection of this moment in her heart, 
 as she had preserved everything which 
 reminded her of the time before her mar- 
 riage, when life seemed so pleasant to her. 
 Was it these thoughts which with light- 
 ning's speed flashed through her soul, 
 that called forth an almost melancholy 
 expression in her face, when she greeted 
 Uno 1 Or was it the certainty that he, 
 like all the rest, would consider her a 
 vain and foolish creature 1 Possibly both, 
 we do not know. Only a few unimpor- 
 tant words were exchanged between them, 
 and then Uno went to look up Sappho. 
 In a little cabinet, where he found Emy 
 and Sappho, he sat down. 
 
 They talked awhile about indifferent 
 matters. Then Uno passed over to 
 Ebba's and Alma's betrothals, their hopes 
 for the future. Finally Emy said, 
 
 " But tell me frankly, Uno, how do 
 you find Ellen ? Is she the same ] Does 
 she look happy 1 " 
 
 "I fancy that she has become some- 
 what paler, but she looks cheerful and 
 contented, as one who leads a life that 
 she considers pleasant and agreeable." 
 
 " Does she really look cheerful ] " Emy 
 rather whispered this question to herself 
 than addressed it to Uno. Thereupon 
 she rose and went into the large saloon. 
 
 " Do you not think that I am right, 
 Sappho, in what I have said about Ellen's 
 appearance ] " 
 
 "No," replied Countess Kerner. "It 
 seems to me, on the contrary, as though 
 she was consumed by some soul suffer-
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 41 
 
 ing which she will never clothe in words, 
 and as if the life she leads was a torment, 
 a constraint to her." 
 
 "My dear Sappho, that comes from 
 the fact that you so stubbornly hold fast 
 to your endeavor to make of her a being 
 like others, with the need of true happi- 
 ness and an inner longing for something 
 more than this empty flattery. But you 
 are wrong ; this richly endowed Ellen is 
 a willing slave to her vanity. To satisfy 
 the thirst for applause which governs 
 her, through the display of her remark- 
 able soul gifts, and to attract attention 
 by her luxury and splendor, these are 
 the objects for which she lives. She has 
 no need of love's quiet joy, and cannot 
 conceive of the delight of an unobserved 
 and domestic life. But so it is, all per- 
 sons seek to satisfy thai which consti- 
 tutes their master-passion." 
 
 " Then you mean to assert that vanity 
 is Ellen's master-passion 1 " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Just then a silk dress rustled against 
 the door curtains. Uno looked up. It 
 was Ellen. She had stopped in the door 
 and looked at Uno with a sad and earnest 
 expression ; but she only remained stand- 
 ing a few seconds, then she continued 
 her way through the cabinet. 
 
 The rooms were empty, the candles 
 burned down, and the last carriage had 
 rolled away. The servants were engaged 
 in closing the doors and extinguishing 
 the lights, when Evert came in to his 
 wife, who, tired out, had thrown herself 
 down on a sofa in a little boudoir adjoin- 
 ing her bedchamber. 
 
 Our Justice's face shone with satisfac- 
 tion when he entered. 
 
 11 It seems to me, my dear, that our 
 ball was a brilliant affair. I have been 
 overwhelmed with compliments. Excel- 
 lency G said some obliging words 
 
 to me. Counsellor E showed me 
 
 genuine good-will and much politeness. 
 President S*** pressed my hand and 
 called me his friend ; in short, I have 
 reaped praise from all quarters. Besides 
 this, Count Dersner said something quite 
 flattering with regard to my choice of 
 a wife. He praised your genius, and 
 thought you a truly superior woman. I 
 suppose you know that Count Dersner is 
 married to Count Uno Kerner's sister." 
 The Justice took Ellen's hand and kissed 
 it warmly, adding : " It is you, my be- 
 loved Ellen, who have helped me to all 
 these triumphs, through your distin- 
 guished qualities." He released his 
 wife's hand, it fell down again in her lap, 
 without Evert's perceiving or heeding 
 her indifferent and abstracted demeanor. 
 He continued : " After all the favor 
 which the President and the Counsellor 
 showed me, it is no longer a matter of 
 doubt which of us two, Gran or I, shall 
 
 become assessor in X 's place. This 
 
 intercourse with the higher society, for 
 which I have been so solicitous, has been 
 of great advantage to me, because it has 
 procured me patrons. If one wishes to 
 rise in the world, he must try to associate 
 with those who are above him. The 
 only thing that I should desire to speak 
 to you about, my dear Ellen, is that you 
 do not attach enough importance to a 
 person's rank, but treat all alike." Here 
 followed a long lecture about the proper 
 and not proper, the different ways in 
 which one ought to treat different peo- 
 ple, the regard that ought to be paid to 
 the impression one makes upon them, 
 and the importance of not neglecting any 
 opportunity of gaining those persons 
 whose acquaintance gives repute, etc. 
 It was a real piece of eloquence in our 
 Justice, which turned on his desire of 
 making an appearance and of winning 
 approbation and success. The whole 
 speech could be called a dissertation 
 upon the best way of gratifying one's 
 vanity. But when he had fully and 
 clearly developed the subject, Evert re-
 
 42 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 minded himself that he perhaps exposed 
 his main weakness too much, and this 
 was something which he was altogether 
 too vain to desire to do. As soon as he 
 perceived that he had allowed himself to 
 be carried away and gone too far, he was 
 always prepared to amend his fault by 
 giving it a color that would place him in 
 a fine and noble light. So even now. 
 
 "My little wife must not think that 
 I have mentioned these rules which 
 ought to be observed in social life, for 
 anything but her own sake. I, as a man, 
 do not care in the least for what people 
 say about me. But you see I am so 
 enamored, so smitten with you, that I 
 desire the whole world to kneel before 
 you as I do. It is your prosperity that 
 I would further. That you shall be the 
 one most highly thought of is my aim ; 
 but what they think or say about me is 
 entirely indifferent. I know my own 
 worth, am a man, and do not need the 
 world's praise." 
 
 Evert had again bent down and kissed 
 Ellen's brow. It was cold, and a sigh 
 heaved her breast. Our Justice, like all 
 vain persons, was extremely impatient. 
 He required of his wife that she should 
 adore him, that she should admire and 
 approve all that he said and did. Ellen's 
 passive submission, her silence, her luke- 
 warmness, irritated and wounded him. 
 Especially when he forgot the thoughts 
 of satisfying his desire for approbation, 
 which usually occupied him exclusively, 
 and devoted some caresses to her, he fotfnd 
 it in the highest degree ungrateful of her 
 not to respond to these expressions of 
 tenderness from the man for whom she 
 ought to live and die. He accordingly 
 rose abruptly when Ellen sighed, and 
 said impetuously, 
 
 "Really, my dear Ellen, you are a 
 very singular woman. I try in every 
 conceivable way to make your life agree- 
 able. I surround you with everything 
 that you can desire, introduce you into 
 all distinguished circles, regulate my life 
 
 entirely according to your well-being, and 
 do all that I can to sweeten my wife's 
 days; but you, you have only sighs, 
 coldness, and indifference in response to 
 my tender efforts to create your happi- 
 ness. / love and adore you, and you, as 
 thanks for it, show me no glimpse of true 
 and genuine affection. I sacrifice my- 
 self entirely for you ; but what have I in 
 return? Sad and discontented looks, 
 never a glad and grateful smile, but con- 
 tinually a cloudy face and solitary words ; 
 and yet, Ellen, I had counted upon some- 
 thing different from you ; yes, I hoped 
 that you would make some acknowledg- 
 ment to a man who has no other thought 
 than to afford you happiness." He 
 walked up and down the room, veiy 
 much provoked at his wife, and deeply 
 moved over himself and his sacrificed 
 love. 
 
 At this outburst Ellen rose from her 
 half-reclining position and offered him 
 her hand with the words, 
 
 " Forgive me, Evert, if I am not as I 
 ought to be, if I appear cold, and am not 
 able to make you happy. God is my wit- 
 ness that I have desired nothing higher, 
 during the four years that we have been 
 married, than to be able to comply with 
 your wishes and so regulate my life as to 
 make you feel contented." 
 
 "From what you say, dear Ellen, it 
 would seem as if you sacrificed yourself 
 for me, and not, as the case now stands, 
 that I am the one who makes sacrifices. 
 But so it is.; the more one does for you 
 women, the more ungrateful you are. 
 No, a husband must be an egotist or a 
 despot for you to value him. If one is 
 self-denying and good, he gets caprice as 
 a recompense." And with this the Jus- 
 tice went into his bedroom. 
 
 Ellen bent down her weary head and 
 wept quietly ; soon she dried her tears 
 and thought, 
 
 " Perhaps it is my fault. If I should 
 tell him how much this manner of life 
 tonnented me, how I suffer from it, he
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 43 
 
 might make some retrenchment, and 
 from love of me propose a quiet, domes- 
 tic life. That he loves me, I cannot 
 doubt. Yes, he loves me very much, 
 and certainly thinks that I cannot be 
 happy except in this whirl. He com- 
 plains of the lack of love on my side. 
 Ah ! I will tell him that this lack shall 
 not be found if I am allowed to live only 
 with him, surrounded by his tenderness, 
 separated from all this bustle, unobserved 
 by the world, indispensable to him." She 
 rose, laid her hand on her heart and 
 smiled with a pained expression, as she 
 continued in thought : " Is this heart ac- 
 tually not capable of a warmer feeling 
 than the one I cherish for Evert ? 
 God ! protect me ; may I never live to 
 see the moment when I again doubt the 
 depths of the love which bind me to my 
 husband. Shall I have struggled in 
 vain, believed that I have come victori- 
 ous from the strife, and yet not have 
 done so ? That would be terrible." El- 
 len sank down on her knees, folded her 
 hands over her breast and prayed, 
 prayed so warmly and fervently, with 
 the same tender trust with which a child 
 lifts up its prayer to God. 
 
 It was a strange sight to see this lady, 
 adorned with lace, silk, and jewels, alone 
 in the elegant boudoir and absorbed in 
 humble prayer, forgetful of all the vanity 
 and folly which surrounded her, with her 
 whole soul fastened upon the Father to 
 whom she always flew in the moment of 
 trouble. 
 
 When she again rose, her features were 
 calm and serene ; and when she entered 
 the bedroom, there was something so 
 mild and almost glorified in her appear- 
 ance, that it was easy to see that she had 
 found in prayer both consolation and 
 strength. 
 
 The following morning we find the 
 
 married pair sitting in the little boudoir. 
 
 " Dear Evert, I was so deeply troubled 
 
 yesterday on account of your leaving 
 me in displeasure, and because I thought 
 I could conclude from your words that 
 the life we lead is not fully in accordance 
 with your taste, but that you think I 
 cannot be happy unless I live in society, 
 therefore I desire a right understanding 
 between us, and that you may clearly 
 read my heart." 
 
 " Well, I have no objection ; but I 
 wonder what I shall find to read in it ; 
 probably something very fanciful and ro- 
 mantic, but nothing of reality." Evert 
 spoke in a snappish tone. 
 
 " Evert, not that tone." She laid her 
 hand on his arm, and leaned her head a 
 little to one side, so that she looked him 
 in the eyes. " What I have to say only 
 concerns our happiness, and I wish to 
 prove to you by my words the sincerity 
 of my affection. Evert, you are mis- 
 taken in regard to my taste, if you think 
 that this life in the midst of the world's 
 pleasures pleases me. No, I love the 
 retired family life, full of love and peace. 
 I do not find my happiness in these dissi- 
 pations, this senseless pursuit of profit- 
 less amusements. On the contrary, I 
 suffer from it, I feel weary, distressed, 
 and unhappy, for it does not seem to me 
 that I can answer before God and hu- 
 manity for the way in which my days 
 are spent, without benefit to myself or 
 any other being. Ah ! Evert, how dif- 
 ferent our life would seem if we left 
 society, drew back within the narrow 
 but far' pleasanter sphere of quiet family 
 life, and employed all these sums which 
 are now wasted upon folly for the benefit 
 of those in need ; if we tried to do good 
 with our wealth, instead of spending our 
 time in this unprofitable way." She 
 paused, for she had sought in vain for any 
 approval in her husband's face ; on the 
 contrary, this face assumed an expression 
 of more and more resentment. When 
 she ceased, he stood up and began to 
 pace the floor, while he responded to her 
 proposition in the following manner ;
 
 44 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 "Is it not as I said, that you would 
 solace me with a multitude of absurd 
 fancies. My dear Ellen, your imagina- 
 tion is just the thing when you write 
 your poems, but do not let it lead your 
 reason, for then you come out with sheer 
 nonsense. Ellen ! what name will you 
 give this whole tirade about domestic 
 happiness, a quiet life, and all that 1 
 You are just the one for such a manner 
 of life ! " He laughed scornfully. " No, 
 my dear, in a month's time you would 
 fill my ears with continual complaints 
 about the dull time you had, and we left 
 alone with our domestic felicity should 
 be ready to die of ennui. I know you 
 better than you know yourself, and con- 
 sequently can tell best what kind of an 
 existence is most in accordance with 
 your disposition and inclinations. Be- 
 sides, your common sense ought to tell 
 you that a man with my expectations 
 cannot very easily place himself in some 
 obscure corner of the world, to play 
 turtle-dove with his wife, but is obliged 
 to be in connection with persons of the 
 same standing as himself. And again, I 
 do not wish to pass for a miser, who like 
 a dragon keeps guard over his treasure ; 
 and your delicacy ought to have with- 
 held you from any remarks about the 
 way in which I manage money, or from 
 insinuating that I had squandered it." 
 With this he went his way, to avoid all 
 further conversation upon the subject. 
 
 Ellen, with her. superior understand- 
 ing, realized full well that she could alter 
 nothing in their position. She saw clear- 
 ly that Evert, under the pretext that he 
 lived only for his wife and ordered his life 
 in such a way as to make her feel happy 
 and contented, in reality did nothing but 
 follow his own taste. She felt something 
 like indignation at the thought of her 
 husband's ignoble behavior. She leaned 
 back against the sofa and reflected with 
 discouragement that she had no other 
 choice than to continue to be dragged 
 from one divertisment to another. 
 
 " I have taken the solemn vow before 
 God to contribute to my husband's hap- 
 piness with all my power. Well, then, 
 this happiness he can only find by shin- 
 ing in the little and trivial ; what 
 matters it if I die from the lack of tran- 
 quillity and domestic happiness, if he is 
 only contented 1 ? It is not worth while 
 for me to have so much regard for my- 
 self. His vanity is more to him than 
 his love for me. I shall finally freeze to 
 death in this cold splendor ; but what 
 then? I have no children, not a being 
 to whom I am indispensable, least of all 
 to my husband. What then is life really 
 worth ? Nothing." 
 
 She went to one of the windows and 
 looked up at the clear sky. What was 
 she thinking of? Of her departed par- 
 ents. She stood so a long time, absorbed 
 in sorrowful reflections, when at last her 
 eyes were directed to the street, and she 
 saw a neatly dressed woman carrying a 
 child in her arms. 
 
 " What would I not give," she thought, 
 " if I was as rich as that poor woman 
 and possessed a being to whom I was all. 
 Ah, how different would life seem to me, 
 if I had a chjld to live for, to love and 
 take care of. I should then not stand so 
 alone and forsaken as now. I should 
 have an aim for my existence. But 
 thou, God, hast not considered me 
 worthy of such a happiness." 
 
 Ingrid entered. 
 
 " Countess Rubens wishes to see you ; 
 but she is waiting in the saloon, for I 
 told her that the Justice was here." 
 
 Ellen hastened out to Emy, who with 
 true motherly tenderness clasped her in 
 her arms. Then she took Ellen's head 
 in her hands, lifted it up and looked 
 searchingly into her eyes. 
 
 " My beloved child, I have come here 
 especially to talk to you confidentially, 
 and to ask you immediately, without any 
 circumlocution, are you really happy ? '' 
 
 There was so much tenderness, such 
 true motherly anxiety, in Emy's voice
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 45 
 
 and glance, that Ellen could have melted 
 into tears and on her breast poured out 
 all that distressed her ; but the practice 
 of governing her feelings, which she had 
 had from childhood, now also prevailed. 
 She did not wish with her sorrows to 
 trouble the one who had taken care of 
 her with so much love. She did not 
 wish Emy to think of her husband with 
 displeasure ; and she considered it her 
 duty to preserve faithfully everythingthat 
 concerned him within her own breast. 
 She therefore kept her pangs to herself, 
 and answered in her usual gentle way, 
 
 " If I do not always feel happy, it is 
 because of my dreamy and imaginative 
 disposition, not of any other circum- 
 stance. Evert loves me, is always good 
 and kind to me, and tries to the best 
 of his ability to dissipate the shadows 
 which my natural inclination to melan- 
 choly sometimes calls forth." 
 
 "Are you now as frank with me as 
 you would have been with your mother, 
 if she lived ] Ellen, at this moment it 
 is her spirit that speaks to you through 
 me. Answer me as if you stood before 
 her." 
 
 "I will do so." Ellen took Emy's 
 hand, laid it on her heart, and said with 
 deep earnestness : " I remember a wo- 
 man whom I regarded as the ideal of 
 a wife. She answered me once, when I 
 asked her what cloud it was that shad- 
 owed her brow when she one day came 
 out from her husband, 'Child, do not 
 ask me. That which is between man 
 and wife, no third person, even if it is 
 a mother, should ever seek to find out. 
 The differences which arise ought to 
 remain between them and God. A third 
 is there one too many, because the third 
 can never be fully impartial.' Can you 
 tell me, Aunt, who this wise and noble- 
 minded wife was 1 It was Emy Rubens ; 
 and every word of hers have I pre- 
 served in the depth of my heart." 
 
 The Countess kissed Ellen in silence. 
 Ingrid came in at the same moment 
 
 and announced that Herr R and 
 
 Herr N had come to practise a trio 
 
 that was to be played in the evening at 
 Captain Ochard's, Evert's cousin. 
 
 " I will wait here a moment, and then 
 come out in the saloon to hear the trio," 
 said the Countess. " You go, dear Ellen, 
 to the gentlemen who are waiting for 
 you," added she, smiling. 
 
 Ellen left the room, and the Countess 
 made a sign to Ingrid to come nearer. 
 
 "Ingrid, your mistress does not look 
 happy. What do you consider the rea- 
 son to be ? " 
 
 "The unquiet life that she leads, Count- 
 ess," replied Ingrid, fearlessly. " Her 
 Grace has from childhood preferred to 
 live still and quiet within the family, and 
 now the Justice drags her out among 
 people, from pleasure to pleasure, and in 
 the mean time visits, rehearsals, and the 
 care of the toilet. She never has an 
 undisturbed moment ; is never allowed 
 to abandon herself to solitude, calm, and 
 quiet ; never any rest. The Justice has 
 no time left to sit familiarly alone with 
 his wife. Without consulting her own 
 pleasure, weary, indifferent, and perfectly 
 submissive to his will, her Grace lets it 
 all pass, although it destroys her happi- 
 ness. But it is not enough with this," 
 added Ingrid, weeping ; " people con- 
 sider her vain and a coquette; they in 
 general pity the Justice, and regard him 
 as the one who is led completely by her. 
 Ah ! Countess, I have often thought of 
 telling you all this, but always waited 
 for you to ask me." 
 
 " Thank you, Ingrid," said the Count- 
 ess, giving the true-hearted girl her hand. 
 " I need not ask you to be tender and 
 affectionate to Ellen, for I know that you 
 are so with heart and soul." 
 
 " Who would not love her ? " replied 
 Ingrid, and kissed the Countess's hand. 
 " But it makes me so sad to see her 
 growing pale and pining away, without 
 my being able to do anything for her 
 comfort and happiness."
 
 46 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 "Is the Justice at home, do you know ? " 
 
 " I should think so, as his droschka 
 has not yet come." 
 
 " Ask him if I can see him for a few 
 moments." 
 
 Ingrid went out, and in a moment or 
 two Evert entered the cabinet with a 
 hurried step, and greeted the Countess 
 with all the grace and politeness which he 
 as a man of the world could command. 
 
 "You have desired to speak to me. 
 Can I be of any service to you ] " 
 
 " Be seated, Evert ; what I have to say 
 concerns Ellen wholly." 
 
 " Evert took a chair with a look of 
 displeasure that he was not able to con- 
 ceal behind the obliging smile." 
 
 "Ellen does not look well. When I 
 came to the capital I found her appear- 
 ance changed, and during the months 
 that have since elapsed she has become 
 still paler. This, my dear Evert, has 
 induced me to speak to you, so that you, 
 who love her so sincerely, may persuade 
 her to limit her pleasures a little. These 
 continual late hours and excitements 
 have had an injurious effect upon her, 
 and must be prevented, if your wife's 
 health is dear to you." 
 
 "What you are pleased to say truly 
 astonishes me, for I think I can assure 
 you that Ellen has never been so happy 
 and so completely in her right element 
 as since she married and gained the 
 opportunity of extending her social 
 sphere. Without wishing to doubt the 
 correctness of your judgment, I venture 
 to assert, that for Ellen, with her vis- 
 ionary character, it is necessary to live 
 among people, to be in the midst of the 
 world's diversions, for she would other- 
 wise, if left to herself, sink into a melan- 
 choly, dreamy state, that would not only 
 undermine her health, but utterly destroy 
 our domestic happiness." 
 
 " Domestic happiness ? Dear Evert, do 
 you think that any such thing can come 
 in question between a couple who scarce- 
 ly spend two hours of the day in each 
 
 other's society, when the wife flies from 
 one pleasure and pastime to another, and 
 the husband -in his direction is first 
 in the world of folly and the leader of 
 the ton 1 " 
 
 "Permit me to drop this subject," 
 said the Justice, always polite, but with 
 an air of manly decision which he so 
 well knew how to assume when he saw 
 fit. " Believe me, one person can never 
 rightly judge another. That which in 
 your eyes can appear as a folly, would, 
 if you could place yourself in my posi- 
 tion, obtain quite another aspect. Be 
 convinced that Ellen's husband has suf- 
 ficient affection for his wife not to act 
 heedlessly." He sighed and assumed a 
 melancholy expression as he continued : 
 " God beSV knows, that if I could live 
 a retired life without the danger of 
 Ellen's often morbid fancies casting a 
 gloom upon our home, I would do it 
 willingly, but experience has shown 
 me that I cannot." He drew a deep 
 sigh. 
 
 Emy rose. A higher color than usual 
 burned on her cheeks, and with a tone 
 not entirely free from irony, she said, 
 
 " It would seem from this, my dear 
 Evert, that you sacrificed yourself com- 
 pletely for your wife's welfare, and solely 
 for the promotion of this associated with 
 all these noble families who in wealth 
 and position stand so high above you." 
 
 " Ellen has always been accustomed to 
 such society while living with you, and 
 so I consider it my duty to do every- 
 thing that will enable her to follow her 
 habit and continue to live in the same 
 circles," replied Evert, who did not ob- 
 serve the Countess's ironical tone. 
 
 "And probably you also consider it 
 your duty to ruin yourself in this irra- 
 tional competition with the richest fami- 
 lies in the land. My good Evert, you 
 drive your duties so far in this case, 
 that one can only think that you en- 
 tirely forget them. Farewell ! " 
 
 The Countess elevated her head proudly,
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 47 
 
 and left him deeply wounded and pro- 
 voked ; but he had no idea of showing his 
 resentment before Countess Kubens, for 
 nothing in the world would tempt 'him 
 to hurt himself in the estimation of the 
 rich and noble family. But he felt 
 really angry with Ellen. It was her 
 fault that the Countess did not consider 
 his wife the happiest of women. It was 
 Ellen's duty to represent him as the 
 model of a married man, and to tell her 
 foster-mother that she loved to live as 
 they now did, for she ought always to 
 be thankful for the enjoyable life which 
 he afforded her. Should he, who during 
 his whole youth had dreamed of the 
 happiness of gaining an opportunity by 
 a rich marriage of gratifying his taste, 
 his love of display, his desire for appro- 
 bation, his ambition, now because of a 
 wife's fantastic visions of an idyllic and 
 monotonous happiness doom himself to 
 renounce all the joy that wealth could 
 yield his vanity] That would be to 
 resign all the success, triumph, and en- 
 joyment of life ! No, he would drain 
 the intoxicating cup which was pre- 
 sented to his desire of approbation, cost 
 what it would. And as to Ellen, he 
 would once for all make it clear to her 
 what, according to his opinion, was her 
 duty. 
 
 With this wise resolution he was about 
 to proceed to court, when Ingrid opened 
 the doors of the saloon for an elegant 
 lady. 
 
 " Her Grace is engaged in rehearsing 
 for the evening, but if the Baroness will 
 step in and wait, she will soon be at 
 leisure." 
 
 Evert hastened to meet Baroness Ern- 
 stein, a lady who was much courted in 
 social life, and regarded as one of the 
 most beautiful women in the capital. 
 
 Before we give an account of the fol- 
 lowing interview, we must mention that 
 the Baroness was of a noble, but poor 
 family. In her first youth Evert and 
 she had been attached to each other 
 
 with a lively fancy, but he was alto- 
 gether too worldly to care for love in a 
 cottage. He saw that this love would 
 only be a hindrance to him, and the 
 result was that he broke off the tender 
 connection, and the Baroness in pique 
 married the richest, shallowest, and ug- 
 liest of barons. Many years had since 
 elapsed, and the Baroness and Evert had 
 scarcely met, until within the last two 
 years, when Baroness Augusta Ernstein 
 had approached Ellen, with much good- 
 will and an accommodating politeness. 
 
 Evert, in the years that had passed 
 since he was enamored with the Count- 
 ess, had undergone an essential change. 
 The liveliness of feeling which belonged 
 to his first youth had been entirely 
 smothered by his all-conquering vanity. 
 He had become a perfect man of the 
 world, and had also acquired the world- 
 ling's aridity of feeling. He was not 
 capable of a pure, warm, and unselfish 
 affection. To live to appear a distin- 
 guished person was his aim, but he did 
 nothing to become such in reality. This 
 is the endeavor of the vain. All they 
 do goes to present to the world the 
 image of the good, the gifted, the mag- 
 nificent, brilliant, and artistic, while in 
 themselves they are nothing of what 
 they would seem to be. There is no 
 character more unreliable, more faithless 
 and changeable, than that which is ruled 
 by the desire of winning the approval 
 of all. Flatter such a person's vanity, 
 and you are an ideal j wound it, and you 
 become a monster. Promote its satis- 
 faction, and he kneels before you ; 
 stand in its way, and he rends you, sul- 
 lies your honor, and commits any base 
 action, if he can only get you out of 
 the way. 
 
 All tender feelings for the Baroness 
 were thus extinguished in Evert's breast, 
 and to him she was only a woman, rich, 
 noble, courted, and admired. These quali- 
 ties made her a worthy object of his 
 attention. The favor which she be-
 
 48 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 stowed on him was always flattering, 
 because it showed that he was a man 
 better endowed than others ; for hitherto 
 the Baroness had distinguished none. 
 
 It was the first time since he bade 
 Baroness Augusta farewell as a lover, 
 that they found themselves alone to- 
 gether. When he came towards her she 
 blushed, perhaps because she yet, in the 
 depths of her heart, retained the remem- 
 brance of the love which they had cher- 
 ished for each other. 
 
 " I desired to see Ellen," said she with 
 a forced smile, " but did not expect to 
 meet her husband." 
 
 " Is this meeting then so painful to 
 you, Baroness ? " said Evert in a senti- 
 mental tone ; for like most vain persons 
 he was a good actor. He carried her hand 
 with animation to his lips. 
 
 "By no means ; but an unlooked-for 
 tete-brtete with a person whom one does 
 not expect to meet always surprises." 
 She was now able to command herself. 
 She had again become a woman of the 
 world. " The reason of my call to-day is 
 that I desired to consult Ellen in refer- 
 ence to a fancy-dress ball which I intend 
 to give. She has such exquisite taste, 
 that I do not know of any one who can 
 compare with her in this respect." 
 
 "A fancy-dress ball! That will be 
 something exceedingly piquant. Shall I 
 not be considered worthy to be with you 
 in the consultation 1 I remember a time 
 when you thought I possessed good taste 
 also, and often consulted it." Evert 
 looked at Augusta with a melancholy 
 expression, and a highly effective sup- 
 pressed sigh followed. 
 
 " With regard to the gentlemen's cos- 
 tumes it would be of great advantage to 
 learn your opinion ; but, in all that con- 
 cerns the ladies, I consider Ellen to be 
 fully competent." 
 
 "I remember a young lady who some 
 years ago always appealed to my judg- 
 ment in the choice of colors for her at- 
 tire ; but it seems as if this lady had now 
 
 forgotten the confidence she then had 
 in me." Evert again seized the Baron- 
 ess's hand, adding, " Shall I not dare to 
 hope that I may be a friend of the Au- 
 gusta who once 
 
 " Was a thoughtless girl. Herr Jus- 
 tice, I have done what is better ; I have 
 chosen your wife for a friend. Besides, 
 sir, it is wisest for us both to occupy 
 ourselves as little as possible with what 
 has been, and more with what is, instead. 
 And the thing nearest at hand is, my 
 fancy-dress ball. As I have really a very 
 high opinion of your taste, you would 
 oblige me if I could count upon you in 
 the council I intend to hold with some 
 friends to-morrow evening, and to which 
 I desired the pleasure of Ellen's com- 
 pany. You are more than happy, 
 Ochard, in having such a richly gifted 
 wife." 
 
 " But I might have been happier still 
 if " 
 
 " If you had had a princely rank and 
 fortune. True enough. We mortals are 
 never contented. Do we meet this even- 
 ing at Captain Ochard's 1 And may I 
 expect you and Ellen to-morrow even- 
 ing ] " The Baroness rose. 
 
 "You can always count upon me," 
 said Evert with his hand on his heart. 
 " We will be at my cousin's this evening." 
 
 "Adieu! Remember me to Ellen." 
 The Baroness bowed her beautiful head, 
 and Evert followed her to the door. 
 
 The programme was arranged for the 
 fancy-dress ball, the invitations issued, and 
 all those who were to appear in costume, 
 that is to say the dancing portion of the 
 guests, had been extremely busy. Our 
 Justice most of all, for he desired a really 
 exquisite costume for Ellen and himself. 
 All his thoughts had been taken up by 
 this weighty subject. There had been as 
 much plotting and intriguing as if it had 
 been a matter of the highest importance
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 49 
 
 to the state. Each one had done his 
 best to eclipse the other. 
 
 The great day dawned at last which 
 was to witness the result of all this rival- 
 ry and intrigue. Among the first guests 
 in costume who presented themselves at 
 the ball were two couples dressed as 
 Italian peasants. These were Ebba Ru- 
 bens and Alma Kerner, with their lovers. 
 The saloon set apart for those in costume 
 was gradually filled, from whence they 
 were to enter the ball-room two by two, 
 while the band played a march. 
 
 Their number was nearly complete, 
 they were only waiting for the Ochards. 
 At last they arrived. Evert was dressed 
 as a knight of the time of Louis XIV. ; 
 the costume of purple velvet embroidered 
 with gold, white satin small-clothes, and 
 silk hose ; Ellen as a lady of the same 
 period, in white satin and red brocade. 
 Their costumes were. so magnificent with 
 the rich garniture of precious stones and 
 the expense that had been bestowed upon 
 them, that they nearly cast all others 
 into the shade. The march was led by 
 Count Uno and Baroness Ernstein. He 
 was a knight, she a lady of the time of 
 the Crusades. 
 
 Never had Ellen looked so well, so al- 
 most beautiful, as in the dress she now 
 wore. Probably Uno thought so too, for 
 his eyes rested on her the whole evening, 
 and that with so earnest a gaze, that Ellen, 
 like one magnetized, was drawn irresisti- 
 bly in the direction where he sat. Even 
 when she did not see him, she felt the 
 whole weight of that penetrating look. 
 The festivity was at its height and the 
 ball far advanced before Uno approached 
 Ellen ; at last, during an interval between 
 the dances, he went to her. 
 
 " Beautiful lady, have you any dance 
 disengaged for a wandering knight 1 " 
 
 Before she had time to answer, Evert, 
 who stood behind her chair, replied, 
 
 " To a knight of the cross I resign my 
 right to the next waltz." 
 
 Just then the waltz struck up, and 
 
 Uno said in a voice that trembled slight- 
 
 to- 
 
 " May I avail myself of this resigna- 
 tion 1 " 
 
 Ellen gave him her hand with a grace- 
 ful inclination of the head. 
 
 It was the first time that Ellen danced 
 with Uno. Not a word was exchanged 
 between them. Once only had Ellen 
 raised her eyes and met his, but lowered 
 them as hastily, almost dazzled by his 
 expression. When he took her back to 
 her seat, at the end of the waltz, he 
 asked in a low voice, 
 
 "Ellen, have you no other dance 
 free?" 
 
 " No, not one." 
 
 He took his place beside her. 
 
 "Who, in your opinion, is the most 
 beautiful woman here ? " asked he in an 
 indifferent tone. 
 
 " Indeed that is not hard to say," an- 
 swered she. " In my eyes Alma Kerner is 
 the most beautiful." 
 
 "And yet so simply attired." 
 
 " Ah ! one endowed by nature with so 
 much beauty does not need the assist- 
 ance of art." 
 
 " So you only consider those to need a 
 magnificent attire who are less richly 
 gifted with beauty 1 " 
 
 " Yes, certainly. Art must then cover 
 the natural deficiency." 
 
 " But I know many ladies who do not 
 need magnificence in order to be beauti- 
 ful, and yet surround themselves with it." 
 " Then their beauty must be of the kind 
 that needs a full and brilliant toilet to 
 appear to advantage." 
 
 "Not all. You, for example." He 
 now looked at her again with that at 
 once sharp, warm, and penetrating ex- 
 pression. She reddened slightly, but 
 replied without the least constraint, 
 
 " You cannot mean to go so far in 
 politeness as to count me among the 
 beautiful ] " 
 
 " Yes, I certainly do." Uno said this 
 in a tone so simple and free from gal-
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 lantry that it almost took away the 
 flattery in the words. " And you are 
 just one of those who are as beautiful in 
 a simple toilet as in a brilliant one. 
 Why then prefer all this finery, these 
 ribbons and jewels, which change a wo- 
 man's attire into a specimen of all the 
 inventions of folly 1 If I was a woman, 
 young and beautiful as you, I would 
 never display anything of the fashion 
 journal in my dress. I would adorn my- 
 self with my genius, my youth, and nry 
 happiness, but not with precious stones 
 and lace. You possess the three treas- 
 ures that I have named ; why then stoop 
 to be a doll ] " 
 
 " We are all dolls in the evening ; 
 large children, who adorn ourselves for a 
 moment's pleasure." 
 
 " But you are the finest." 
 
 " Possibly, although I do not think so ; 
 but at a fancy-dress ball we always 
 strive to render our meed of homage to 
 the hostess by the magnificence of our 
 costume." 
 
 " It does not become you to take part 
 .in such a strife." 
 
 " You mean to say by this that I ought 
 not to take part in the fancy-dress ball." 
 
 " yes, but not as one who wishes 
 to surpass all others in show and folly. 
 Besides, what I now say does not merely 
 refer to this evening. You are always in 
 the arena of vanity." 
 
 Not even now did Ellen's face change. 
 She maintained a calmness and com- 
 posure which was almost habitual with 
 her in society. With a charming smile 
 she answered, 
 
 " Is not vanity one of woman's inher- 
 ited sins ? Do not ask then that I shall 
 be more free from it than the rest of 
 my sex." 
 
 Uno leaned against the back of Ellen's 
 chair. He whispered, 
 
 " A woman of your genius ought to be 
 ambitious, but not vain. She ought to 
 despise to be a parlor doll, when she 
 might be a distinguished person through 
 
 her genius. Applause ought never to 
 outweigh esteem, nor the praise of the 
 moment that universal respect which is 
 felt for a quiet but useful life." 
 
 " Give me genius and I will then be- 
 come ambitious," said Ellen, gayly. 
 
 " What God has bestowed, no other 
 needs to give you." 
 
 The conversation was here interrupted 
 by the music. Ellen was led away in the 
 dance, and Uno went to seek his partner. 
 
 A few days after the ball at Baroness 
 Ernstein's there was a reception at Jus- 
 tice of Ochard's. When Evert met his 
 wife in the saloon, he burst out, 
 
 " Good gracious, Ellen, how you are 
 dressed ! You look just as if you did 
 not expect company, and yet you know 
 that I have invited several members 
 of the ' Riddahus,' * besides other in- 
 fluential representatives. To them I 
 shall this evening present my wife, the 
 poetess Ellen of Ochard, and in such a 
 toilet ! My dear, you cannot have 
 seen yourself in the glass ; just look 
 here ! " He led her to a large mirror. 
 " Do you really think that you are 
 dressed with the elegance that ought to 
 distinguish you? My dear Ellen, I am 
 truly sorry that you pay so little regard 
 to my ideas ; and yet you ought to have 
 an unlimited confidence in them, the 
 same as every one else has. You are the 
 only one who impugns my judgment and 
 discrimination in all that concerns fine 
 tact." 
 
 " My dear," replied Ellen mildly, " it 
 is a fancy of mine to be simple to-day, 
 let me follow it. I shall try to compen- 
 sate with my music for what is lacking in 
 my toilet ; are you not satisfied with 
 this]" 
 
 " I do not see why you should look so 
 exceedingly simple just to-day, when I 
 
 * Corresponding to the House of Lords in 
 England.
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 51 
 
 desired to show you to advantage. Look 
 at yourself, your appearance is very or- 
 dinary." 
 
 Ellen contemplated her image in the 
 glass. 
 
 "It seems to me that my attire, 
 though simple, is in very good taste. Is 
 not this lilac barege pretty, and Ingrid 
 has certainly arranged my hair very 
 nicely 1 " 
 
 " I should have nothing to say against 
 your dress or hair, if you wore a tasteful 
 and elegant head-dress of ribbon or velvet, 
 and if the monotony of your attire was 
 relieved by a breast-knot fastened with 
 your beautiful ruby brooch, and if you 
 were bracelets on your wrists as well as 
 a richer lace set, which would give some- 
 thing ethereal and noble to that intoler- 
 able barege. These little changes are 
 soon made, and I desire you to make 
 them." 
 
 Ellen sighed and would have complied 
 with her husband's desire, had not Baron- 
 ess Ernstein just then arrived. When 
 they had greeted the Baroness, Evert 
 said, smiling, as he pointed to his 
 wife, 
 
 " What do you think of Ellen's toilet 
 to-day 1 Does she not rather resemble a 
 lady's-maid than a hostess who is to re- 
 ceive company 1 " 
 
 " Not at all. Ellen is charming just 
 as she is. Her appearance is very har- 
 monious and original ; for simplicity en- 
 hances the noble beauty of her features. 
 There is a delicate coquetry in the choice 
 you have this evening made, and you are 
 so lovely in this simple attire that you 
 could never be more so if you appeared 
 in a grande toilette.'" 
 
 All further comment on this highly 
 important subject was deferred, on ac- 
 count of the arrival of several guests. 
 
 Ellen, who possessed an unusual facili- 
 ty- on the piano, and both a poetic and 
 musical comprehension besides, was a 
 real treasure to the music-loving. This 
 evening she played in a trio for piano, 
 
 violin, and violoncello. Uno came in 
 during its performance, without Ellen's 
 observing him. After the trio she played 
 something of Chopin, after which Baron- 
 ess Ernstein sang two romances. 
 
 When Ellen left the instrument she 
 became aware of Uno's presence and sa- 
 luted him. While the Baroness was 
 singing he approached the young host- 
 ess. 
 
 " Does Ellen never sing nowadays ? " 
 asked he. 
 
 " Never in company." 
 
 " Why not 1 Therein you do wrong." 
 
 " I have never learned to sing. I pos- 
 sess no especial voice, and therefore it 
 can never enter my mind to sing before a 
 large gathering. I go so far, that I 
 think it would be impossible for me to 
 utter a note if I knew that there were 
 many listening to me." 
 
 " But still I have heard you sing, and I 
 can solemnly assure you, without flattery, 
 that no singing ever made a deeper im- 
 pression upon me." 
 
 " If I dared to believe your words, I 
 should attribute it to the circumstance 
 that I then sang for myself, without sus- 
 pecting that any one listened. When I 
 am alone, it appears to me sometimes as 
 if I wished to breathe out my soul in 
 song, something which I neither could 
 nor would do before a whole society." 
 
 " You are afraid to let the world look 
 into your soul." 
 
 " Yes, I belong to the number of those 
 reserved people, towards whom you feel 
 an actual antipathy," answered Ellen, and 
 smiled mischievously. 
 
 " Ah ! you have a good memory. Yes, 
 it is true, I do not love reserved charac- 
 ters. You are thus very reserved ] " 
 
 " Yes, very." 
 
 "And yet Sappho said she had never 
 known a franker person than Ellen," said 
 Uno. 
 
 " That is also true. When I approve 
 or disapprove a thing, I always express 
 myself frankly. I cannot be induced to
 
 52 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 praise with a word what my heart re- 
 jects." 
 
 " I have had proof of this." 
 
 A moment afterwards Baroness Augus- 
 ta had taken her place beside Count Uno, 
 and, they were soon engaged in a lively 
 conversation. Ellen stood at a little dis- 
 tance, talking earnestly with two elderly 
 gentlemen and a lady by the name of 
 Fru K***, who was much spoken of 
 for her culture. Just as the Baroness 
 was speaking with ecstasy about Naples, 
 she said to Uno, 
 
 " Is not Ellen charming 7 " 
 
 "Yes, indeed. At this moment her 
 face has both life and feeling. What are 
 they speaking of?" 
 
 " Dante's Divina Commedia. I do not 
 know anything about it, for I cannot 
 speak Italian, and have never read Dante ; 
 but for those four who have read the 
 distinguished poet, the conversation is 
 probably interesting. What I admire is 
 Ellen's appearance." 
 
 " And I her simplicity for the day." 
 
 " Yes, is it not truly becoming to her 1 
 Yet I would not advise her to dress so 
 all the time, for it would then have a 
 touch of affectation. No, may she, our 
 little poetess, show that she is also a 
 woman by adorning herself like the rest 
 of us. I cannot bear to see literary wo- 
 men careless in their appearance or 
 dressed with a studied simplicity. Their 
 intellectual pride shines through the 
 much-praised humility, and I fancy that 
 I see written upon it in large characters, 
 My genius is so great that I despise 
 every other ornament." 
 
 " I would like to assert that the sim- 
 ple and the great are inseparable. A 
 gifted and distinguished woman ought to 
 show just through the simplicity of her 
 appearance that she is above frivolity." 
 
 "God preserve us from such perfec- 
 tion and distinguished geniuses ! I cannot 
 endure them. We are all children of 
 folly, and I like to see human weaknesses 
 go hand in hand with human virtues. 
 
 Count Uno, I can never come to admire 
 a genius clad in tow-cloth, or a moralist 
 in sackcloth and ashes." 
 
 Uno laughed. 
 
 " Then you advocate the manner of 
 life which Fru Ochard follows 1 " 
 
 " Advocate ! That has nothing to do 
 with it; but I do not see how she 
 c"ould take it otherwise. Young, rich, 
 beautiful, and endowed with all the 
 qualities that make one agreeable in 
 society, it is but natural that she should 
 draw the advantage from these gifts. 
 Or would you wish her, with her poet- 
 ical mind, to settle down as a hermit 
 in a large cityl" 
 
 - " Not by any means ; but I wish that 
 every married woman, handsome or ugly, 
 rich or poor, should first and foremost 
 know how to value domestic happiness ; 
 that she should be able to promote and 
 enjoy the delight of family life, making 
 pleasure a secondary consideration, not 
 the main object." 
 
 " You men are indeed strange beings. 
 You desire that we women shall be free 
 from all the faults which you yourselves 
 possess. Thus, for example, you are' con- 
 tinually talking about women's vanity 
 and what slaves we are to the fashion, 
 but it never enters your minds that you 
 are equally so. At one time you wear 
 cloaks so long that you can scarcely 
 walk ; at another they are so short that 
 you get the rheumatism. Only think of 
 all the varieties of coats, vests, and capes, 
 etc, etc., and then tell me if the two 
 sexes cannot give each other the hand 
 in this respect and acknowledge, 'We 
 are great fools on both sides.' But that 
 is only a trifling matter. We women have 
 a limited vanity which extends merely 
 to our toilet and our amiable efforts to 
 be agreeable ; but yours, it goes through 
 all your actions. You call it ambition. 
 Ah, that is a beautiful sign-board on a 
 great fault ; a fine word behind which 
 many mean deeds are concealed. To 
 gratify your desire for distinction, you
 
 THE WIFE OP A VAIN MAN. 
 
 53 
 
 sacrifice everybody and everything.- You 
 lend yourselves to slander, cabals, and 
 machinations against those who stand in 
 your way. You betray king, religion, 
 and people, if you can only win popu- 
 larity by it. You betray friends and 
 parents, break the holiest obligations, and 
 sell your convictions for a star or the 
 prospect of promotion. Hapless the one 
 who stands in the way of your vanity, 
 who is a hindrance to it, or who wishes 
 to contest a never so little victory. You 
 try to injure him in every conceivable 
 way, public and private, careless of the 
 means you employ, in order to gratify 
 your envy and your revenge. Yes, 
 Count, our vanity if compared with yours 
 stands in the same relation to it as a 
 child to a giant. Think of the streams 
 of blood your vanity has cost the world. 
 For a Napoleon to gain an immortal 
 name, millions of human lives have been 
 sacrificed ; and yet you talk of our desire 
 of applause. Be still ! for should we 
 make up our accounts on this point, you 
 would be forced to acknowledge with 
 horror that your 'noble ambition' was 
 very much like a bloodthirsty hyena, 
 while our love of approbation confined 
 itself to a little rouge, a few jewels, and 
 a coquettish smile." 
 
 " In all that you have now said you 
 are perfectly right ; but it has changed 
 nothing in my assertion, that woman 
 ought to place domestic happiness before 
 the desire of amusing herself. From 
 vain mothers are born vain sons, and 
 according to your own picture this is 
 something that we ought to fear. There- 
 fore women should have another aim than 
 to be thoughtless fools in the great mad- 
 house of vanity." 
 
 " Very true ; but if fate, which some- 
 times takes strange freaks, gives a wo- 
 man a husband who knows as little of 
 domestic happiness as I of the customs* 
 in the moon, what shall she then do 1 ? 
 Compel him to be happy in a way that 
 is contrary to his nature 1 I assure you 
 
 that this would be a fruitless effort. If, 
 in addition to this, he married for money 
 and to gain an opportunity of leading a 
 life which satisfies all the requirements 
 of his vanity, what course shall the wife 
 then adopt 1 Why, follow her husband 
 quite dutifully. They are like a pair of 
 horses harnessed to the car of folly ; 
 when one draws, the other must draw 
 too, and for the ignorant beholder it is 
 difficult to decide which of the two 
 horses forced the other to go, from the 
 beginning." 
 
 "I think you now go a little too far 
 in your attack upon our vanity," said 
 the Count, who was amused by the 
 Baroness's lively manner of calumniating 
 his sex. 
 
 " May be ; but if this is so, it comes 
 from the fact that I have seen so much 
 that is contemptible in you men, occa- 
 sioned by pure vanity. So, for example, 
 I knew a man who married a lovely 
 young girl because she was a fine pian- 
 ist. After she became his wife it was 
 his highest joy to have her shine with 
 her talent. She had to play early and 
 late, at all times and in all places, 
 because the praise that she received 
 flattered his vanity. That was his way 
 of being happy with his wife. The vain 
 man did not conceive that the woman 
 had a heart, warm and loving, and in vain 
 would she have attempted to make him 
 comprehend it. I knew another, who 
 was a very learned and cultivated man, 
 and sufficiently distinguished in his de- 
 partment to be in no need of striving 
 for anything more than the respect that 
 was rendered him, but who, nevertheless, 
 besieged the court and the nobility and 
 made himself a laughing-stock for all 
 thinking people through his slavish offi- 
 ciousness ; all the while speaking of orders 
 and ribbons with the greatest contempt. 
 He finally obtained an order, and came 
 very near losing his reason in his de- 
 light ! But it would be an endless task 
 to enumerate all the examples of petty
 
 54 
 
 THE WIFE OP A VAIN MAN. 
 
 and contemptible vanity in you men ; 
 so we will return to the Ochards. 
 Which of them do you consider to be 
 the one who is passionately devoted to 
 the frivolous and prodigal manner of life 
 that you censure 1 " 
 
 "The cause of it naturally proceeds 
 from the wife, for in such cases it is al- 
 ways she who prevails ; but still I con- 
 sider him sufficiently vain to comply 
 very readily with her notions, and per- 
 haps also, in certain cases, to share her 
 love of display." 
 
 " yes, there we have it ! It is 
 woman's fault, must be woman's, cannot 
 possibly be man's. How could he, this 
 image of God, have any weaknesses ? 
 Your self-love, my dear sir, is really 
 ridiculous." 
 
 " Then you mean to say that Fru 
 Ochard is compelled by her husband to 
 be the most elegant woman, the first who 
 adopts a new fashion, and the one who 
 displays the greatest magnificence in her 
 attire 1 " He smiled contemptuously. 
 
 " Please remember my comparison of 
 the horses. Now when Ochard sets off 
 at full speed on vanity's broad road, and 
 Ellen is harnessed with him, what re- 
 mains for her but to run too 1 You 
 ought to have heard him when I came ; 
 he was in half despair over Ellen's simple 
 dress. Look at her just now as she 
 sits there ; does she seem as if she was 
 entertained here ? " 
 
 Uno followed her advice, and discov- 
 ered Ellen sitting in an easy-chair, pale 
 and tired out. She looked indifferently 
 before her, while a young foreigner was 
 talking to her. 
 
 " Well, how do you think she looks 1 
 Perhaps happy to be admired by Herr 
 Canovi ? " 
 
 " She looks fatigued. I believe how- 
 ever that some little personal dislike lies 
 at the bottom of your severity towards 
 Ochard." 
 
 " Personal 1 " The Baroness threw her 
 head back and looked at him in surprise. 
 
 Then she burst out laughing. " I bet 
 anything that superlative fool Ochard 
 tries to make people believe I have been 
 in love with him." 
 
 " Why say have been instead of am ? " 
 whispered a young man on the other 
 side of the Baroness, who had sat there 
 the whole of the time they were convers- 
 ing, without her observing it. It was her 
 brother in-law. 
 
 " Ah ! is that you, Hugo 1 " said she, 
 and turned to the young man with an 
 almost haughty inclination of the head. 
 "I assure you that I am sufficiently at 
 home in the rules of language not to 
 confound a present with a past time. 
 If Ochard says that I have been in love 
 with him, his words contain a ridiculous 
 boast ; if he asserts that I am so, then 
 they comprise an affront." She rose and 
 left the two gentlemen. 
 
 Some days after this Ellen and her 
 husband were sitting at the breakfast- 
 table. Evert was silent, and when he said 
 anything it was in a crabbed manner. 
 He had felt ill-disposed towards his wife 
 ever since the conversation with Count- 
 ess Rubens. He could by no means 
 forgive Ellen for the fact that Emy did 
 not consider her perfectly happy, or him 
 as the ideal of a married man. Without 
 comprehending the cause, Ellen had per- 
 ceived his state of mind. If she had 
 regarded life with less indifference, and 
 had not considered their domestic con- 
 dition past remedy, she would probably 
 have made some inquiries of her husband, 
 and tried through her tenderness to dis- 
 pel the cloud from his brow. Now, on 
 the contrary, she had, since her fruitless 
 attempt to induce him to sacrifice some 
 of these empty pleasures for their mutual 
 happiness, come to so sorrowful a conclu- 
 sion, that she regarded as futile every 
 effort on her part to spread comfort and 
 joy in the home, as her husband did not 
 place any value on quiet domestic happi- 
 ness. She had resolved to live in a way 
 that seemed most in accordance with his
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN". 
 
 55 
 
 tastes, seeking only in prayer the conso- 
 lation she needed and the strength to 
 endure a course of life so directly in 
 opposition to her nature and all that she 
 had dreamed and imagined of the joys 
 of family life. Not content with leaving 
 her no choice but to continue this killing 
 manner of life, he -wished to assert both 
 before her and others that he did it 
 because she could not be happy in any 
 other way. Her husband's whole conduct 
 showed plainly that he neither desired 
 nor intended to make any change in the 
 course he had planned. Evert drank his 
 coffee in silence. Finally he looked up 
 and said quite suddenly, 
 
 " I suppose that poem which you were 
 to write about Gustaf Adolf will never be 
 ready. It might gain the prize ; but you, 
 with your self-love, affect to despise such 
 a distinction. You know that it would 
 give me pleasure, and therefore you do 
 not care anything about it. " 
 
 " I thought you had a better opinion 
 of me ; for you know full well, in your 
 heart, that I would willingly do anything 
 that could afford you joy. A proof of 
 this is that my poem is already written/' 
 
 " Really ! Then I suppose I must 
 ascribe this happy circumstance to some 
 impulse from other persons." 
 
 " Why speak with this bitterness, Ev- 
 ert 1 You kn.ow right well that what I 
 have done in this case was solely for your 
 sake." Ellen offered him her hand, but 
 he did not accept it, and merely said, 
 
 " You are too good ! " He approached 
 the door leading to his own room. 
 " Send the manuscript to me." With 
 this he went in. 
 
 In a few minutes afterwards Ellen in- 
 tended to go in to her husband with the 
 manuscript, but was checked by the 
 sound of voices in his room. 
 
 " Then you promise me to attack Gran 
 right sharply in that article, and I give 
 you my word in return that you shall be 
 promoted before him, although he, as an 
 older man, might be more entitled to it." 
 
 Ellen heard these words uttered by some 
 one inside. She did not reflect much 
 upon them, but sent Evert's servant in 
 with the manuscript, and gave herself 
 up to the pleasure which so seldom oc- 
 curred to her of being a few moments 
 undisturbed. 
 
 The next evening but one Ellen found 
 herself alone at home. Evert was at the 
 " Eiddarhus " ; she had denied herself 
 to visitors, and had resolved to spend 
 the evening alone by herself, when Ingrid 
 entered, 
 
 " Baroness Ernstein wishes to see 
 your Grace. She says that you will cer- 
 tainly receive her, so much the more, as 
 the Justice told her that you were at 
 home." 
 
 " Bid the Baroness welcome," replied 
 Ellen-, and rose to go into the saloon. 
 
 " It is- unnecessary, my friend, here I 
 am ; we need not meet with great cere- 
 mony in the saloon," exclaimed the Bar- 
 oness. " But you must not imagine that 
 I come alone. No, God preserve you 
 from spending a whole evening in my 
 company ; in half an hour you w ill 
 have the house full of people, but an en- 
 tirely new society, namely, some distin- 
 guished literati, besides Count Uno 
 Kerner and Sappho. We shall have a 
 charming little soiree, with music and 
 poetry. Just the man to please you." 
 
 In a half-hour from that time there 
 was a little company of ten persons. 
 They had music, conversed about litera- 
 ture, and for the first time Ellen found 
 that even social life can have its delights ; 
 yet this was no grande societe, but a 
 select little gathering of gifted persons. 
 Ellen was animated and spoke with an 
 enthusiasm which rendered her beautiful, 
 
 " Could Ellen not be persuaded, if we 
 all united and asked her to improvise 1 " 
 asked Sappho. "We, who are here as- 
 sembled, promise never to speak of it." 
 
 A cloud spread over Ellen's beaming 
 face, and she answered in a tone of earnest 
 decision,
 
 56 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 " Four years ago I made myself a sol- 
 emn promise never to do anything of the 
 kind, and I neither can nor will break 
 this resolution." 
 
 She felt that Uno's eyes were fastened 
 upon her, and a deep blush covered her 
 cheeks as she remembered the words 
 which he had dropped, and which had 
 induced her to take this resolution. 
 
 " Make a single exception to that 
 promise," cried those around her. 
 
 " One is not allowed to make an excep- 
 tion to a promise ; and when I assure you 
 that I have not even done it for my hus- 
 band, I hope you will see that I cannot 
 do it now." 
 
 The question dropped ; but neither 
 Uno nor Ellen took so lively a part in 
 the conversation as before. Soon after 
 Uno approached Ellen, saying, 
 
 " You have a good memory." He 
 seated himself beside her. 
 
 " Why do you say so 1 " 
 
 " Because I believe that a little re- 
 venge lies in the promise you spoke 
 of." 
 
 A revenge 1 On whom should I wish 
 to be revenged 1 " 
 
 " On me." 
 
 " On you, Uno ! You do not think as 
 you say. How. could I be revenged by 
 sparing you an unpleasantness ] " 
 
 " There it is ! After four years you 
 are still angry over the words which I 
 dropped the first and only time I heard 
 you improvise. You cannot forgive it 
 that I refused you my admiration." 
 
 " What a singular misunderstanding ! " 
 
 " Then give me an explanation." 
 
 " Not now." Ellen left Uno and min- 
 gled in the general conversation. The 
 Count remained and looked after her, 
 but with a peculiar blending of irony 
 and melancholy in the expression of his 
 face. 
 
 The next day we find Ellen at Count 
 Rubens's, where only a few relatives had 
 
 assembled. Oehard talked politics with 
 the older gentlemen, and descanted on 
 yesterday's debate in the " Riddarhus." 
 The Justice was considered au unusually 
 lible man, because he talked well and 
 wrote with facility. No one examined 
 closer to find how much, was his own and 
 how much borrowed iu his speech or 
 writings. People found them popular 
 and evincing judgment, an opinion to 
 which Evert himself, in various little 
 crooked ways, had succeeded in bringing 
 the public. 
 
 Baroness Ernstem sang a duet with 
 
 Herr D -n\. Ellen sat in a little 
 
 corner sofa and listened. When the 
 song was ended, Uno approached her 
 and said, 
 
 " You have owed me an explanation 
 since yesterday, and I have now come to 
 obtain it." 
 
 " What use is it to take up these old 
 subjects," answered Ellen, with a slight 
 blush. "You have always had difficulty 
 in understanding dispositions such as 
 mine." 
 
 " But you are too just to leave me 
 without any explanation." 
 
 " Well then, I will comply with your 
 wish." Uno's glance governed her, as it 
 were, through the eamestness which rest- 
 ed in it. " You thought I was wounded 
 because you refused me your homage for 
 my little ability to improvise. But you 
 were mistaken. I neither sought nor 
 coveted your homage ; but you wounded 
 me deeply by the expression you dropped 
 concerning me, when you denied me 
 heart and feeling, and declared that I 
 was a light-minded creature, who strove 
 exclusively for the applause of others. 
 You wished to regard me as a vain fool, 
 and thus did me injustice. So I thought 
 then ; but now " 
 
 She ceased. Her face wore an expres- 
 sion of melancholy. 
 
 " Continue, I beg," said Uno. 
 
 She looked at him with her open, 
 honest gaze.
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 "Now I vrould almost be ready to 
 thank you for the stern judgment." 
 
 " Ellen, you are now bitter ! " 
 
 "Not at all. Your assertion that I 
 was vain, that I burned with the desire 
 of being praised and flattered, led me to 
 think, and the result was that I ex- 
 amined myself and found that I was not 
 so insensible to this praise as I had 
 believed. I then resolved, as a penance, 
 never to appear before others as an im- 
 provisatrice, or in this capacity give 
 nourishment to my desire of applause. 
 I should blush before myself if compelled 
 to acknowledge that I was a slave to my 
 vanity." 
 
 " You have never improvised since?" 
 
 " Never when any one heard it." 
 
 "But you have published your poet- 
 ical attempts. Is there not as much 
 vanity in giving people an opportunity 
 to admire your genius in print, as if you 
 declaimed these poetical inspirations 1 " 
 
 Ellen bent down her head. 
 
 " There is more ambition in the latter 
 course and more vanity in the former." 
 
 " Ambition ? What is that but vani- 
 ty 1 The desire for applause is contained 
 in both these feelings." 
 
 Ellen made no reply ; for they had 
 now entered a domain where she was 
 obliged to maintain silence ; she could 
 not as a wife say : " It is my husband 
 who publishes my poems, as a compen- 
 sation for my not improvising. His vani- 
 ty needs my genius to shine with." 
 
 "Have you judged yourself aright? 
 Or do you think you have actually 
 overcome your vanity with this resolu- 
 tion not to appear as an improvis- 
 atrice ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so." 
 
 " And this love of display, the luxury 
 with which you surround yourself, the 
 life that you lead, what are the motives 
 of all this ? " 
 
 " Vanity," answered Ellen with a pe- 
 culiar smile. "But why continue this 
 conversation longer? If we overcome 
 
 our desires in one respect, we find them 
 again in some other." 
 
 At these words of Ellen's, Uno's face 
 brightened and his eyes rested on her 
 with an expression of warm sympathy. 
 She resumed, 
 
 " Explain this contradiction in your 
 words, Uno. At the ball at Ernstein's 
 you bade me become ambitious ; to-day, 
 when I said that I allowed my poems to 
 be printed from pure ambition, you told 
 me, vanity and ambition are one and 
 the same." 
 
 " They have their ground in the same 
 feeling. The latter is only a higher and 
 nobler thirst for applause. The ambi- 
 tious person would have a name to which 
 one attaches the idea of something un- 
 common, noble, or elevated ; it is for the 
 future he works, to gain the respect of 
 others. The vain individual, on the other 
 hand, wishes to be praised, flattered, 
 courted, and worshipped for trifles. The 
 applause of the moment is what he cov- 
 ets. To appear first, to be noticed, to 
 outshine, that is what he desires ; he 
 sacrifices everything in order to be flat- 
 tered, and to see a crowd of thoughtless 
 fools collected around him, who pay 
 homage to his splendor, wealth, and 
 folly. This is what vanity would reap. 
 Well then, Ellen, it can become a woman 
 of genius to be ambitious, to be vain 
 degrades her." 
 
 " You are mistaken ; vanity belongs to 
 woman, ambition to man. He belongs 
 to the world, she to social ]jfe." 
 
 A moment's silence ensued. At last 
 Uno resumed, 
 
 " You have thus no grudge remaining 
 against me for the attack which I once 
 made against geniuses in general and 
 you in particular ? " 
 
 " Grudge ! Have you actually believed 
 me to entertain anything of the kind ? " 
 
 " Once I did not believe it," he fal- 
 tered. 
 
 She did not ask when ; she divined it, 
 and the lively color on her cheeks gave
 
 TEE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 Uno reason to suppose that it was so; 
 but however this might be, she resumed 
 with a calm voice, 
 
 " The childish resentment which I at 
 first experienced has long since passed 
 away, and I consider myself to stand in 
 debt to you for the self-investigation 
 which has resulted from your words." 
 
 " And will you hereafter regard me as 
 a friend who possesses the right to speak 
 frankly to you 1 " 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " Give me your hand in proof that we 
 are friends." 
 
 Ellen laid her hand in his. 
 
 " Thanks, you shall never have reason 
 to repent that you gave me your friend- 
 ship." 
 
 When Uno, in the sincerity of his heart, 
 uttered this promise, Asmodeus surely 
 laughed behind his back and stretched 
 out his imprecating hands over them 
 both. 
 
 Just at the moment, when she gave 
 him her hand, Evert came towards them. 
 
 "What is my Ellen treating of with 
 our friend the Count 1 " asked he in the 
 heartiest tone in the world, quite unlike 
 the one with which he addressed her 
 when no one heard it. 
 
 " Uno and I have promised each other 
 friendship," answered Ellen, and offered 
 Evert her hand. 
 
 " That is exceedingly fitting, as I am 
 also happy enough to count myself 
 among his friends, and it was always 
 painful to me to see you as hostile 
 towards each other as you were formerly. 
 Apropos, my dear Kerner, I have some- 
 thing to ask of you." Ellen rose and 
 Evert took her place. 
 
 After that evening Uno was a daily 
 guest at Ochard's. The indefatigable 
 Evert, whose aim it was to distinguish 
 himself in all conceivable ways, had now 
 established two reception-days a week ; 
 one, for artists, literati, and musicians, 
 the other for the more aristocratic por- 
 tion of their acquaintances, and at which 
 
 everything was done to amuse and 
 entertain these guests, who through the 
 lustre of their name and wealth lent a 
 reflection of it to his worth. 
 
 During the first days of March, Evert 
 Ochard was nominated Assessor. The 
 appointment was celebrated with a grand 
 dinner at " Bla porten," and a few days 
 afterwards the new Assessor gave a large 
 ball. 
 
 They had already begun to dance, and 
 yet Uno had not arrived. He had not 
 been seen for a whole week. 
 
 Surprised at his absence, Ellen directed 
 her eyes to the door oftener than usual. 
 Her former teacher, Magister, now Rec- 
 tor Dahl, was also invited. He had come 
 to the capital fourteen days before to 
 make it his residence and to investigate 
 the school system. Upon his arrival in 
 Stockholm, he had hastened to visit the 
 Rubens, Kerners, and Ochards. He hap- 
 pened to call at the latter place on one 
 of the literary evenings. Uno was also 
 there. Dahl was received by Ellen with 
 the undisguised joy which she felt at see- 
 ing him again. Since then Uno had not 
 met him either at Ochard's or elsewhere. 
 They had begun the second waltz, 
 which Ellen, to the great indignation of 
 her husband, danced with Rector Dahl. 
 Just as she waltzed past the door of the 
 dancing-hall, she fancied that she caught 
 a glimpse of a dark face surrounded by 
 black hair and whiskers, with a pair of 
 flashing eyes. But she was not quite 
 certain whether the sight was real or im- 
 agined; for when she danced by the 
 second time, she did not see him. At 
 length the waltz was over, and Dahl 
 led Ellen into the saloon. Then there 
 was some one who saluted her from a 
 distance with a cold look and stiff bow. 
 It was Uno. 
 
 His greeting and whole behavior as- 
 tonished her exceedingly, especially as 
 their intercourse had of late been dis- 
 tinguished by a friendly and simple 
 confidence, free from all constraint. She
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 59 
 
 treated him like a brother. This had 
 been so much the easier for her as his 
 whole relation towards her lacked the 
 gallantry which is so usual with men. 
 There was such calmness in all his move- 
 ments, that Ellen felt tranquil in his 
 presence, and without the least uneasi- 
 ness abandoned herself to the pleasure 
 of his society. 
 
 Now there was something strange and 
 disturbed behind his stiff and measured 
 greeting which awakened a certain shy- 
 ness in her. 
 
 For the whole evening he neither 
 approached her nor took part in the 
 dance, buf continued a passive beholder. 
 
 During the supper he conversed with 
 Count Oscar Kerner. Ellen stood at a 
 little distance and heard Oscar say, 
 
 " Do people generally then think that 
 Ochard wrote that attack against Gran, 
 which caused him to be superseded 1 " 
 
 " Yes, they are fully convinced of it. 
 It would be very bad for Ochard if he 
 should have been guilty of so mean an 
 action ; for it is a great injustice com- 
 mitted against Gran, and Ochard's nomi- 
 nation has already aroused sufficient 
 indignation, from the fact that Gran, 
 who is a highly deserving man, has been 
 supplanted." 
 
 " I, for my part, do not believe that 
 Ochard could allow himself to be tempt- 
 ed to take so mean a step. To try to 
 raise himself by putting down an asso- 
 ciate, I consider him to have too much 
 honor for that." 
 
 " Bah ! he is a vain fool, and such a 
 one has no regard for honor or friendship. 
 He cares only to distinguish himself, at 
 whatever price. For the attainment of 
 this object he will sacrifice anything." 
 
 Ellen withdrew, without the speaker's 
 observing that she had heard them. But 
 there was a painful feeling in her heart. 
 A few moments later she found herself 
 face to face with Uno. This time he 
 could not avoid speaking to her. 
 
 " You are well, I hope ? " 
 
 " Perfectly well, Count," answered El- 
 len. 
 
 " One always feels well when one is 
 happy." 
 
 " And we are always happy when 
 things go well with those we love. Is 
 not my husband's promotion a natural 
 cause for my feeling glad ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! I did not think that you 
 took so deep an interest in his brilliant 
 success, a success which has caused 
 another family deep pain. I thought, 
 besides, that your happiness proceeded 
 from a person who with more right could 
 attribute to himself the merit of spread- 
 ing joy." 
 
 " Then you were wrong," replied Ellen, 
 almost haughtily. " My husband's pros- 
 perity and success are mine, and I have 
 too high an opinion of him to believe 
 that he has secured them through any- 
 thing but his deserts." 
 
 " But to see old friends again, does 
 that contain nothing for your heart ? " 
 The word " heart " was pronounced with 
 strong emphasis. Ellen felt irritated ; 
 something of the former bitterness awoke 
 within her, just as when he used to make 
 his cutting remarks. 
 
 " I always feel glad to see my real 
 friends again." 
 
 " And that pleasure you have now en- 
 joyed in full draughts. Therefore I con- 
 gratulate you." 
 
 " Of whom do you speak 1 I do not 
 like these attacks, without aim or pur- 
 pose. They are like pin points, which 
 irritate without having the power to 
 wound." 
 
 " The object stands directly before us." 
 
 " Dahl ! " exclaimed Ellen, who raised 
 her eyes and saw her former teacher's 
 handsome and intelligent face. " Yes, you 
 are right, it was a real joy to see him 
 again. He has always been a true friend 
 to me and an untiring teacher." Ellen 
 said this with undisguised heartiness. 
 
 " A joy for which you, to speak accord- 
 ing to the truth, would willingly have
 
 60 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAX. 
 
 sacrificed your husband's appointment 
 and all the happiness he seems to enjoy 
 from it." 
 
 She looked at him with a proud and 
 noble expression. Then she turned and 
 left him. 
 
 The next day at noon Count Uno 
 Kerner was announced. He bade Ingrid 
 say that he had something important to 
 communicate to her mistress. 
 
 Cold and with her head carried high, 
 Ellen went to meet him. He stood by 
 the mantel-piece and supported himself 
 against it. 
 
 "Count Kerner has desired to speak 
 to me," said Ellen, as she took a chair 
 and with her hand invited him to be 
 seated; but he made a slight bow and 
 remained standing. 
 
 " I could not resist the emotion of my 
 heart which drew me here to apologize 
 for an offence. I would rather expose my- 
 self to your anger, than know that I had a 
 fault to deprecate and did not do it. 
 Ellen, forgive the inconsiderate words 
 which passed my lips last evening." 
 
 " I have been too deeply wounded to 
 forgive and forget so easily." 
 
 " Could you not forgive words uttered 
 under the influence of wild and confused 
 feelings 1 Should you not be able to for- 
 get an injustice committed by a friend 1 " 
 
 11 Perhaps an injustice, but not an 
 affront. Had you entertained friendship 
 for me, it would have been impossible 
 for you to lower me in your esteem, to 
 give room to so degrading a suspicion as 
 that I could be a faithless wife. What 
 has entitled you to believe such a thing 
 of me 1 In the same moment that you 
 thought of me in this way, you withdrew 
 the respect which I know I deserve, and 
 this I cannot forget." 
 
 " Ellen, forbear, I beg of you ! Do 
 not force me to abase myself before you 
 by declaring the feelings that govern me. 
 0, believe that I am severely enough 
 
 punished by the contempt which I feel 
 for myself ! Be magnanimous. Be con- 
 vinced that I shall remember your clem- 
 ency with deep gratitude and respect." 
 He stood there so penitent and looked at 
 her with an expression full of pain. She 
 could not refrain from giving him her 
 hand, as she said with a grieved smile, 
 
 " I will try to forget what has hap- 
 pened, the remembrance of it makes me 
 too unhappy." She bent down and some 
 tears fell on his hand. At the sight of 
 this grief Uno's features contorted, and 
 if Ellen had then seen his face she would 
 have found the solution of the enigma of 
 his behavior. Uno pressed her hand in 
 silence and a pause ensued. Finally she 
 raised her head and resumed : "It is 
 always the privilege of our friends to be 
 able to wound us deeply. But let us 
 no longer speak of it ; friendship makes 
 us indulgent." She uttered the last 
 word with hearty goodness. 
 
 " You promise me to continue to be- 
 lieve in my affection ? " 
 
 " I have told you that all is forgotten. 
 I never promise anything by halves. " 
 
 " Thanks ! " He kissed her hand. She 
 was almost as pale as death when she 
 again raised her head. 
 
 A period elapsed during which Uno 
 had regained his calm and earnestly cor- 
 dial manner. 
 
 Ellen's health had been delicate for 
 some weeks. One morning Evert in- 
 formed her that she had obtained the 
 second prize of the Swedish Academy 
 for the poems she presented ; and he 
 intended on account of it to make ar- 
 rangements for a large ball on Ellen's 
 birthday, the last he thought of giving 
 during the winter. She made some 
 objections to celebrating her distinction 
 in so ostentatious q, manner ; but this 
 only called forth some snappish words, 
 whereupon he left her. During the weeks
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 61 
 
 which elapsed between this conversation 
 and the great festivity, she was so weak 
 and indisposed that she was obliged to 
 keep her bed. The invitations were is- 
 sued, and Evert thought with horror of 
 being obliged to postpone all this glory, 
 something which he would not submit to 
 for any price in the world. He had in- 
 tended to make this affair the most 
 brilliant of the season, and lulled himself 
 with sweet dreams of the attention he 
 would attract with it, and now came 
 Ellen's illness, threatening to put an end 
 to the whole thing. But the physician 
 said that it was only a slight cold which 
 had settled on her lungs. Well then, 
 with a little exertion on her part she 
 ought to be able to subdue her indispo- 
 sition. He went to his wife two days 
 before the ball to make this clear to her. 
 
 " How do you feel, Ellen I " asked he, 
 as he arranged his hair before the glass. 
 
 " I really think that I feel better to- 
 day." 
 
 " That rejoices me inexpressibly, my 
 dear. Would you not like to try to dress 
 yourself and lie on the sofa 1 " 
 
 " I fear that I am too weak." 
 
 "If you continue to lie in bed, you 
 will lose all your strength." 
 
 " I will do as you wish, dear Evert, 
 but it might be best for you to recall the 
 invitations for Friday." 
 
 " My own Ellen, I should be in despair 
 if I were compelled to do that. If you 
 will put a little constraint on your im- 
 agination, you will then see that you 
 can overcome your indisposition easily 
 enough. Try for my sake ! " He kissed 
 her hand. 
 
 Ellen allowed them to dress her, but 
 was so weak that she was immediately 
 obliged to lie down on a sofa. She repre- 
 sented to him that she should in all 
 probability be unable to play the part of 
 hostess, but he would not hear of this 
 contingency. The day of the ball ar- 
 rived ; Ellen had sat up the day before, 
 but felt so enfeebled, that she declared 
 
 on the great day that she did not think 
 she could receive all these guests and be 
 awake half the night. 
 
 " You imagine that you are so weak 
 only because you constantly think of it," 
 said Evert, and compelled her to stand 
 up and take a turn around the room. 
 " You see, Ellen, you walk quite steadily. 
 If you now rest this forenoon, drink a 
 glass of wine at dinner, and dress your- 
 self somewhat late, you will see that all 
 goes well." 
 
 " The physician has expressly forbidden 
 me to taste wine," replied Ellen, and held 
 her hand to her aching head. 
 
 " Physicians are pedants. You will 
 never regret your compliance, if you only 
 obey me. It is true that you are pale, 
 but that can be easily remedied. I have 
 some remarkably fine rouge which I will 
 give Ingrid." 
 
 " Shall I use rouge 1 " exclaimed Ellen, 
 and looked at her husband. " Never ! " 
 
 " Well, well, Ellen, do not begin your 
 childishness again. There is no woman 
 of the world who does not occasionally 
 employ this innocent means for the sake 
 of looking well ; but I must always have 
 a battle with you to get you to do what 
 is wise and sensible. You never do what 
 I desire, without my first having to go 
 through a hard struggle. You seem to 
 think more of having people say that you 
 look suffering, that you are an unhappy 
 wife. Probably it is your desire to rep- 
 resent me as a despot." 
 
 Ellen kept science. At dinner-time 
 Evert came in himself with a large glass 
 of wine and a cup of beef tea. She took 
 both with great effort. The wine in- 
 creased the fever very considerably, and 
 made the use of rouge entirely superfluous. 
 Evert bustled in and out while she was 
 dressing, and saw that she was attired 
 according to his taste. When she was 
 dressed and was to go into the saloon, 
 she fancied that the floor swam, and that 
 the walls would fall over her ; but with 
 the aid of smelling-salts she overcame
 
 02 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 this dizziness, and, leaning on Evcrt's 
 arm and summoning the whole strength 
 of her will, she went to receive her com- 
 pany. The guests began to arrive. Ellen 
 had a friendly smile for all, but every 
 one wondered at the glassy look in her 
 eyes and the unsteadiness of her motions. 
 
 " How are you, Ellen ? " asked Uno in 
 a whisper as he saluted her, almost fright- 
 ened at her feverish look. 
 
 "Only a little indisposed," answered 
 Ellen. 
 
 Most of the guests had come ; they 
 
 were only waiting for Excellency D , 
 
 who, at the Assessor's request, was to pre- 
 sent the prize of the Academy to Ellen. 
 At last he came. With the last effort of 
 her strength Ellen rose to go to meet 
 him. She had scarcely gone half-way 
 across the floor, when it seemed to her 
 that the whole room was a sea of fire, 
 that the floor opened and she was 
 plunged into a burning abyss ; she put 
 her hands to her head, uttered a cry of 
 anguish, and fell senseless to the floor, 
 but was instantly lifted up by a pair of 
 strong arms and carried out of the saloon 
 into a cabinet, where Emy followed her. 
 It was Uno who had followed all her 
 movements with apprehension, and has- 
 tened foward 'When he saw her reel. He 
 could not reach her soon enough, however, 
 to hinder her from falling. 
 
 When he had laid her on the sofa, he 
 hastened out for a physician. 
 
 The company surrounded the despair- 
 ing Evert, who in the outburst of his 
 grief exclaimed, 
 
 "I told her that it would be so; I 
 wished to recall the invitations, but she 
 was so stubborn. Ah ! why does she 
 never follow my advice ! " Then he 
 rushed into Ellen, while all pitied him 
 and blamed her. 
 
 There is no one who knows so well 
 Low to turn all things to his advan- 
 
 tage as a vain person. Sorrow itself 
 becomes a means through which such an 
 individual tries to appear in an inter- 
 esting light and excite sympathy or ad- 
 miration, according to the need of the 
 moment. 
 
 Evert, with his desire to shine, had not 
 been able to relinquish the triumph of 
 
 seeing Excellency D present his wife 
 
 the prize which the Swedish Academy 
 had conferred upon her, before a large 
 assemblage. To postpone this brilliant 
 occasion and renounce the effect which 
 it would produce, and this only on ac- 
 count of an indisposition, he did not pos- 
 sess the strength. But now, since the 
 result had shown that Ellen was sicker 
 than he believed, he hastened to draw all 
 possible benefit from the sad occurrence 
 for his all-absorbing vanity. It was con- 
 sequently necessary to immediately rep- 
 resent himself as the one who had wished 
 to restrain Ellen from receiving company 
 when she was so ill. Although he felt a 
 certain degree of compunction and real 
 distress when Ellen fainted, his feelings 
 were not so deep as to be able to silence 
 the voice of his vanity, or the thought 
 of how it looked to others. He immedi- 
 ately perceived the necessity of repre- 
 senting himself as the innocent party, as 
 the sufferer, and Ellen as foolish and in- 
 considerate. The w T orld must regard him 
 as the ideal of a married man, who lived 
 only for his Avife and complied with all 
 her whims. While he was anxoius that 
 the world should know that Ellen was a 
 gifted and distinguished personage, who 
 had chosen him from love, it was at the 
 same time a need for his soul, thirsting 
 for all manner of applause, that people 
 should regard him as the tenderest of 
 husbands. The aim of his life was to 
 excite commendation and praise in the 
 little as well as in the great. 
 
 When he drove through the streets of 
 Stockholm with his elegant equipage, 
 and people turned round to admire his 
 horses, his heart swelled with joy. When
 
 THE WIJE OF A VAEM MAN. 
 
 63 
 
 people, the day after a ball or a dinner 
 party, gathered about him to pour out 
 their praises over hia good taste, his 
 wealth and prosperity, he was as pleased 
 as if he had distinguished himself by 
 some great and noble deed ; in a word, 
 he wished in all things to attract atten- 
 tion, and to be courted and flattered. 
 For the attainment of this object he 
 squandered his fortune. To gain a pro- 
 motion, he stooped to acts which neither 
 honor nor conscience could approve. For 
 an order he would have sacrificed any- 
 thing, even his convictions, if a vain per- 
 son can be said to have any convictions. 
 
 The day after the ball Ellen lay very 
 ill. The cold, trifling in the beginning, 
 had, through the exertion of leaving her 
 bed, prematurely taken the character of 
 a violent inflammation of the lungs. In 
 the morning the street before their res- 
 idence was covered with straw, a measure 
 which Evert's vanity rather than his con- 
 sideration for the sufferer had induced 
 him to take ; for the sick-room was in the 
 back of the house, so that the sound of 
 vehicles could not trouble the patient very 
 much. In the evening people read in 
 the papers " that the talented young 
 poetess, Fru Ochard, who had been 
 awarded the prize by the Swedish Acad- 
 emy, was dangerously ill." 
 
 Evert had in secret managed to have 
 this announcement made. When one has 
 a fortune, keeps a large house, and lives 
 among the upper-tendom, he never lacks 
 friends who are ready with drums and 
 trumpets to proclaim his success or bewail 
 his misfortunes, provided that these mis- 
 fortunes do not bear the name of " finan- 
 cial ruin " ; for then these friends of the 
 day become mute and speedily withdraw. 
 
 In the vestibule sat Evert's servant, 
 with a slip of paper on which he took 
 down the names of all who sent to in- 
 quire after Ellen's health. Evert him- 
 self could not attend court, but he was 
 the very incarnation of despair. We 
 should swerve from the truth if we as- 
 
 serted that the sorrow he showed was 
 entirely feigned ; but he certainly man- 
 ifested a greater degree of it than his 
 heart contained. He spent the tune 
 contemplating his image in the glass, 
 arranging his hair in a certain melan- 
 choly disorder, trying to give his face as 
 despondent an expression as possible. May 
 no one consider our young Assessor heart- 
 less on this account : he was really troub- 
 led, and would by no means have lost 
 Ellen ; but no sorrow, no joy, no feeling 
 in his breast, was able to overrule his 
 vanity. 
 
 While he wandered restlessly back 
 and forth through the rooms, sighed, 
 viewed himself in the glass, and was 
 really quite as uneasy as he looked, 
 two persons sat by Ellen's bedside and 
 regarded her burning face, listening 
 with the keenest anxiety to her moans. 
 These two were Countess Emy and her 
 daughter Ebba. From time to time 
 Evert came in, went to the sick-bed, 
 sighed, and looked at the Countess with 
 a despairing expression. At noon the 
 two physicians who had been summoned 
 called for the third time. Evert pressed 
 their hands, and stammered out a ques- 
 tion full of anxiety. When they went 
 
 away, Dr. M , who was then- family 
 
 physician, said, 
 
 " The Assessor never ought to have 
 allowed her Grace to give that ball, as 
 sick as she was. Now God alone knows 
 what the end will be." 
 
 Late in the evening, when Ingrid went 
 into her chamber, she stopped, frightened, 
 and almost uttered a scream, for a man 
 was sitting on the sofa ; but when he at 
 the same instant rose and took a step 
 towards her, she recognized Count Uno. 
 " How is your mistress, Ingrid 1 " asked 
 he, regarding Ingrid's tear-stained face 
 with a gloomy look. He was so unnat- 
 urally pale and looked so haggard, that 
 he seemed to Ingrid more like a ghost 
 than a human being. 
 
 "She is very ill, Herr Count," an-
 
 64 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 swcred Ingrid, weeping. He seized her 
 arm and asked eagerly, 
 
 " What did the physicians say this 
 evening 1 " 
 
 11 They gave but little hope." 
 
 He put his hand over his brow and 
 made some hasty turns around the 
 room ; then he threw himself down on 
 Ingrid's sofa. 
 
 " Who is with her now ? " 
 
 " Countess Rubens. The young lady 
 has gone home, but the Countess will 
 remain here to-night." 
 
 Uno nodded to Ingrid and left. 
 
 The days went by, under the greatest 
 anxiety for Ellen's friends. Ingrid did 
 not leave her couch ; she was with her 
 night and day, and when the Countess 
 wished her to take some rest, her an- 
 swer was, 
 
 " If she dies, then I am willing to die 
 with her." 
 
 Every evening Uno presented himself 
 in Ingrid's chamber, always as pale and 
 with every sign of deep sorrow. 
 
 A fortnight, how quickly it passes 
 when we are in the midst of health and 
 joy, how endless does it seem when we 
 watch by the sick-bed of one we love, 
 and fear every moment that the beloved 
 being will leave us ! Emy, Ebba, and 
 Ingrid realized this during the time in 
 which Ellen hovered between life and 
 death. This was a painful period for 
 Evert also, but he had so many ways of 
 diverting his mind, between calculating 
 the effect of his actions, thinking of what 
 people would say, and exciting sympathy 
 for himself, that the time to him was 
 less long. 
 
 At the expiration of the fortnight, a 
 slight change for the better had occurred. 
 Ellen slept more calmly than usual that 
 evening, and Ingrid availed herself of the 
 opportunity to steal down to her room. 
 
 " How is she ? " There was the usual 
 question which met her every evening 
 from the same trembling and anxious 
 voice. 
 
 " Somewhat better." 
 
 " Better ! " exclaimed Uno, starting 
 up. 
 
 "Yes, she sleeps, and the fever has 
 considerably diminished ; besides, she 
 breathes easier, and the doctors were 
 more hopeful this evening than ever be- 
 fore." 
 
 One beautiful morning in the middle of 
 April, Baroness Augusta called on Ellen, 
 who now lay dressed on a sofa in the 
 bedchamber. She had not yet obtained 
 the doctor's permission to leave her 
 room, for she was still extremly weak. 
 When Augusta left her she met Evert in 
 the saloon. 
 
 " Ah, are you at home yet 1 I thought 
 that you were at the Diet, which is in 
 session to-day," said Augusta. 
 
 "Not to-day, it meets to-morrow. I 
 should have been absent in any case, 
 because I desired to see you." He seized 
 Augusta's hand. " Thanks for the sympa- 
 thy you have shown me during Ellen's 
 severe illness. Your friendship has been 
 the deepest source of comfort. I think 
 that I have found a trace of the former 
 affection in it. Am I right ? " Evert 
 looked at her with a tender expression, 
 and kissed her hand with warmth. 
 
 The Baroness drew away her hand, 
 though neither hastily nor slowly, but 
 with a completely indifferent motion. 
 She seated herself in an easy-chair and 
 said with the calmest voice in the 
 world, 
 
 " You are extremely mistaken, my dear 
 sir. My sympathy has not in the least 
 been devoted to you, but entirely to 
 Ellen, whom I love with all my heart." 
 
 "You are cruel, Augusta. Do you 
 mean to say by these words that I am to 
 you an indifferent person 1 But why de- 
 ceive us both with this language 1 Or 
 do you not think that I can judge of 
 your sentiments by those of my own 
 heart 1 I know how to interpret the
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN" MAN. 
 
 65 
 
 feelings you entertain for Ellen better 
 than you do yourself." 
 
 " Let me hear." 
 
 "Augusta," he sat down beside her 
 and continued in a lowered but animated 
 voice, " you know as well as I, that I 
 have never ceased to love you, that I yet 
 to this hour feel the same attachment to 
 you as before we were compelled to sep- 
 arate. Do not turn from me with pride, 
 for I have read your heart and found 
 that the friendship which you show Ellen 
 is only a veil thrown over the love which 
 you still preserve for me. 0, how I 
 have thanked you for it in my heart ! 
 How I adore you ! " Evert bent a knee 
 to Augusta. " 0, let me through a glance, 
 a word, a single gesture, receive a con- 
 firmation of what I believe myself to 
 have guessed ! " 
 
 " Stand up, sir, and recollect that two 
 rooms from here lies the wife whom you 
 succeeded in decoying with your pretend- 
 ed love. Your words would have offended 
 me if any other than you had uttered 
 them. My answer to what you have be- 
 lieved or guessed is : you are a conceited 
 fool. Do not show yourself so wounded 
 by my words, but let us for once rightly 
 understand each other and speak calmly 
 of the matter. Look at me ! Do I look 
 as if I was tormented by an unhappy 
 love 1 Am I sad, hypochondriac, pale ] 
 Not at all. I am cheerful, enjoy life, and 
 feel very happy." 
 
 " Probably also in love with the hus- 
 band whom you have chosen," observed 
 Evert ironically. 
 
 " Your words are highly inappropriate, 
 sir. I do not love my husband ; but I am 
 grateful to him ; and however weak and 
 frivolous I may be, I yet feel respect for 
 myself and for the name he gave me. 
 I shall consequently never lower myself 
 so far as to play so miserable a part as 
 that of opening a love intrigue with my 
 friend's husband." 
 
 " Ah ! inadam, you are really cruel," 
 said Evert. 
 
 " Cruel 1 Listen : you love me as 
 little as I you ; but you know that I 
 belong to those who are in the mode, and 
 you would have no objection to being con- 
 sidered the one whom I honored with my 
 love. It would natter your vanity to pass 
 for the object which occupied the thoughts 
 and feelings of the rich and courted Bar- 
 oness Ernstein, so that it might be as- 
 serted aloud that my heart had yielded 
 to your irresistible attractions. That 
 would be a triumph of which you could 
 boast." 
 
 " And from the fear of this you deny 
 that you feel sympathy for me 1 " 
 
 " Not from fear, but from sincerity. 
 When you brought out in the world a 
 young, beautiful, and richly endowed wife, 
 I sought her acquaintance, because I, who 
 once loved you, and now, since the illusion 
 had fled, saw through your character, de- 
 sired to see what sort of a woman had 
 bound her fate to yours. Has she a 
 heart, then she will become unhappy by 
 the side of a man whose vanity smothers 
 all other feelings, thought I. Well, sir : 
 who do you suppose can know Ellen 
 without loving her] No one who has 
 mind or feeling for the noble and the 
 good." 
 
 The Baroness rose and extended her 
 hand to him as she added : " I am sin- 
 cerely your wife's friend, but nothing to 
 you." 
 
 Quite confounded by the reprimand 
 which he had received, Evert kissed the 
 proffered hand ; but when she was gone, 
 he straightened himself to his full height 
 and muttered, 
 
 "You shall some time have to pay me 
 for this humiliation." 
 
 Augusta had mortally wounded his 
 vanity ; she had dared to find his wife 
 more worthy affection and sympathy than 
 her husband ; and, worst of all,, she had 
 let him understand that she knew his 
 main weakness. The vain person cannot 
 bear to have other* perceive that he is 
 led by this passion, but would like to
 
 CG 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 stamp on his actions and character the 
 impression of something noble and ele- 
 vated. 
 
 One afternoon, at the end of April, the 
 Rubens, Kerners, Uno, and Baroness Ern- 
 stein presented themselves at Ochard's 
 to congratulate Ellen upon her restored 
 health. They were to have a little jubi- 
 lee, when she left her room for the first 
 time. This was an arrangement of Evert 's, 
 which was intended to be a joyful sur- 
 prise to Ellen, and he had limited him- 
 self to inviting those who were espe- 
 cially attached to her. He had invited 
 Uno from an entirely personal interest. 
 
 When all had arrived, Evert went in to 
 Ellen, who was reclining in an easy-chair 
 in a little cabinet adjoining the bed- 
 -chamber. Ingrid sat on a footstool and 
 iTead aloud to Ellen, who was in complete 
 ignorance of the intended family party. 
 
 " Would you not like to go out in the 
 saloon, Elleu dear 1 ? The air there is 
 fresher, ; and as the sun comes in it is 
 also more cheerful," said Evert, taking 
 her little emaciated hand. There was 
 something so unusual in his manner, and 
 also in the circumstance of his being at 
 home, as he had been away every after- 
 noon since Ellen began to recover, that 
 she felt touched by it, 
 
 "With pleasure, my dear." She rose, 
 took his arm with a smile, saying : 
 " I will go with you wherever you 
 choose." 
 
 Evert pressed a kiss on her pale brow, 
 and they went arm in arm out into the 
 saloon, where they were received with 
 the warmest congratulations. It was a 
 scene to Evert's taste; for there was 
 something full of effect in his entering 
 the saloon with the pale Ellen on his 
 arm. He had the pleasure of judging 
 of the whole effect of it by a glance in 
 the mirror. Neither could it be denied 
 that he looked particularly well by the 
 side of Ellen, and one could not avoid 
 
 admitting, in spite of Ellen's paleness, that 
 they were a handsome couple. 
 
 To celebrate his wife's recovery in love 
 and quiet, alone by her side, was some- 
 thing for which Evert had no desire. 
 Now, although he did not dare to invite 
 a large number of guests from fear of 
 Countess Rubens, he yet had the satis- 
 faction of showing his love and his noble 
 efforts to afford Ellen a pleasant surprise 
 to a few persons at least. 
 
 When they had from all sides sur- 
 rounded Ellen and congratulated her 
 upon her recovery to health, Uno, who 
 in the general enthusiasm had kept at a 
 distance, came to her. Ellen gave him 
 her hand with a smile. 
 
 " God be praised," said he with fervor, 
 " that I am allowed to see you well once 
 more ! " His voice trembled slightly, 
 and the look which rested on Ellen had 
 such a warm and unspeakably tender 
 expression that it quite moved her. 
 
 " We are here to afford you a pleasant 
 evening ; tell us, Ellen, what you would 
 like," said Baroness Augusta. 
 
 " A little music," said Ellen. 
 
 " Shall I sing 1 " asked the Baroness. 
 
 Ellen's glance flew over to Uno, and 
 as if he had understood the silent wish 
 which was expressed in it, he said, 
 
 "Perhaps Ellen would like to hear 
 some of the Spanish people's songs ] " 
 
 " yes ! " exclaimed she. The next 
 moment Uno sang. Where was Ellen 
 during the singing 1 ? Away, far away 
 from the world and the people that sur- 
 rounded her. She was brought back to 
 the first wonderful dreams of her youth, 
 to the strange longings which have nei- 
 ther form nor name. When the song 
 ceased, Uno reaped general applause, as 
 on former occasions. Ellen reached him 
 both hands and said only, " Thanks ! " 
 
 In the evening when they had all 
 left, Ellen and' her husband remained 
 sitting awhile in the saloon. 
 
 " Do you know, Ellen, that Uno's 
 brother-in-law has become Minister and
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 67 
 
 seems to stand very well in high places'?" 
 began Evert. 
 
 * " The appointment has then been made 
 during my illness." 
 
 " Precisely. I would therefore like to 
 see you treat Uno with especial polite- 
 ness. He has great influence over his 
 brother-in-law, and this influence I desire 
 to use to my advantage. He is besides 
 nearly related to all persons now influ- 
 ential, and just the man from whom 
 I can derive benefit. I hope that you 
 have so much interest for your husband, 
 that you will, for the promotion of his 
 success, show those persons respect who 
 can be of use to him." 
 
 " I have- always done that, if these 
 persons deserved my respect." 
 
 " Influential persons always deserve 
 our respect, mark that. Now I have 
 remarked that Uno has taken a singular 
 affection for you, especially since you re- 
 ceived the prize for that last poem. In 
 short, I with my sharp-sightedness have 
 observed that you exercise influence over 
 him, and this you ought to use to my 
 advantage." 
 
 " But, my dear Evert, why are all 
 these roundabout ways necessary 1 Your 
 own merit is certainly the surest and 
 best means of advancement. All other 
 distinction than that which is based on 
 your capacity is really not worth striv- 
 ing for." 
 
 " Listen, Ellen ; will you be so good 
 once for all as to do what I ask you with- 
 out reasoning upon it 1 You have, it is 
 true, a very remarkable ability to write 
 verses ; but, my dear, you are utterly 
 lacking in judgment when it is a ques- 
 tion of how one ought to act in real life. 
 Show me therefore the politeness of be- 
 lieving my judgment infallible in such 
 matters, and conform yourself to what I 
 say without reflecting upon it. Now I 
 desire that you may be particularly po- 
 lite and attentive to Count Uno, and all 
 further words on this subject are unne- 
 cessary." 
 
 Ellen made no reply, and Evert re- 
 sumed after a short pause, 
 
 " As you, according to the doctor's 
 assertion, ought to lead a more quiet life 
 as long as you are so weak, you have an 
 opportunity every evening to receive 
 those who call upon you, and I hope 
 that you will not oppose this, as the vis- 
 its will necessarily be short and cannot 
 very well fatigue you. Or have you 
 again some objection to make ] " 
 
 " No, Evert/,1 have not ; but why talk 
 to me in this short, cold tone ? " 
 
 " Is my tone short and cold ? You are 
 truly very impatient ; if at any time I 
 wish to talk over serious matters, then 
 you say that my tone is cold. You have 
 a very unhappy disposition which can 
 never be anything but a torment to your 
 husband, for I can never consult with 
 you or express my wishes without being 
 misunderstood and hearing sharp words." 
 He rose and was going to leave the room. 
 
 "Evert," exclaimed Ellen, reaching him 
 her hand, " do not be displeased with me 
 and have indulgence with my fault. God 
 is my witness that I am glad to comply 
 with your wishes in everything which 
 does not conflict with my convictions." 
 
 "I hope I am not one to overcome 
 your convictions or make you deviate 
 from what is right 1 " 
 
 " Evert, be a little kinder," said she. 
 
 "Why, my dear, I am kind enough," 
 answered he in a voice between friendly 
 and cross, " although I cannot bear en- 
 dearments all the time. My dear, a 
 man has larger and weightier interests 
 in life than to sit and coo by his wife's 
 side. Love is to him an agreeable pas- 
 time for leisure moments, when he has 
 nothing else to think of; but never 
 ought a wife to demand that he shall 
 constantly fondle her." 
 
 How little Evert was suited to Ellen 
 can be easily inferred from the above-
 
 68 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 described conversation, which showed 
 plainly how foreign the world of the 
 home and the heart was to him. And 
 yet it was all to her. She resembled 
 one of those tropical plants which with- 
 er if removed to a cold climate. She 
 needed love and tenderness, and when 
 she missed these feelings in her husband, 
 she fell into a melancholy state and 
 sought in imagination a recompense for 
 what reality had denied her. 
 
 Uno now went to Ochard's oftener 
 than usual. His manner towards Ellen 
 breathed so much friendship and un- 
 feigned affection, that it inevitably made 
 an impression on her, neglected as she 
 was by her husband. Seldom or never 
 had Evert a word of love for her when 
 they were alone ; but when others were 
 present he was extremely amiable and 
 attentive. 
 
 Uno's society became a need to her, 
 without her seeing in this need or the 
 feeling that bound her to him anything 
 but friendship. It never entered her 
 mind that any danger to her peace might 
 lie concealed in this friendship. She 
 enjoyed it as a flower destined for the 
 warm sunshine, but, placed in the shade, 
 enjoys the few stray beams which some- 
 times reach it. 
 
 One evening when Uno called he found 
 Ellen entirely alone. 
 
 " Is Evert away *? " asked he. 
 
 "Yes, he is at President S***'s," an- 
 swered she. 
 
 " Tell me one thing frankly, Ellen, 
 but with perfect sincerity," said Uno. 
 
 " If I can, then be assured that I shall 
 answer frankly." 
 
 " One can always be open when speak- 
 ing to a friend whose affection can be re- 
 lied on, and you can certainly not do 
 otherwise than trust in mine 1 " 
 
 " Well, let me hear what weighs on 
 your mind," said Ellen smiling. 
 
 "I did not get any answer as to 
 whether you believed in my friendship." 
 Uno regarded her with an expression in 
 
 his black eyes which was for some sec- 
 onds so full of passion, that she would 
 assuredly have answered the question 
 with a no, if she had looked. up and met 
 his glance, but her eyes were fastened on 
 her work. 
 
 " I considered it unnecessary to an- 
 swer it, because you know more than 
 well that I both believe and confide in 
 your friendship." 
 
 Now she looked up ; but he had 
 turned his eyes from her to a picture, as 
 if he feared that she should discover the 
 feelings that were reflected in them. 
 
 " Thank you, Ellen. After this assur- 
 ance it will be so much the easier to 
 touch this subject. I must begin with 
 a question : does Evert desire to obtain 
 an order 1 " 
 
 Ellen blushed deeply and looked down 
 at her work. She knew that this was 
 one of the motives which had induced 
 her husband to ask her to be polite to 
 Uno. It seemed so repugnant to her to 
 answer. She could not say no truthful- 
 ly. As she remained silent, Uno bent 
 down and regarded her a moment as if 
 to force her to answer ; but as she still 
 made no reply, he resumed, 
 
 "Do you find it humiliating to an- 
 swer this question in the affirmative 1 " 
 
 Ellen looked up. There was a mild 
 reproach in Uno's voice and a still mild- 
 er in his look. 
 
 " Yes, almost," she replied. 
 
 " And wherefore 1 Am I a friend of 
 so little value to you, that pride over- 
 rules affection in the most insignificant 
 thing?" ' 
 
 "Certainly not, you know full well 
 that it is not so." 
 
 " Do I ? No, Ellen, no, I do not know 
 it," said he impulsively and seized her 
 hand, but dropped it immediately, add- 
 ing, " why then not answer my question 
 with a simple yes or no ? " 
 
 " If you had asked me : Do you wish 
 to win another prize for the poem you 
 are now writing 1 I would have answered
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 69 
 
 yes, without embarrassment, for then it 
 would have concerned me personally, 
 and if I thereby placed myself in a 
 wrong light, it would have been of little 
 consequence ; but when it concerns my 
 husband " She ceased and worked 
 diligently. Uno's eyes rested on her 
 with a dark and gloomy expression. 
 
 " You are afraid of placing him in a 
 doubtful light ] You thus love him 
 very much." 
 
 There was something in his tone which 
 made a painful impression on Ellen. 
 With a gentle earnestness she an- 
 swered, 
 
 "And to whom ought a wife's heart 
 to stand nearer than to her husband 1 " 
 
 " You are right, Ellen. Who should 
 a married woman^ love, if not the mate 
 whom she has chosen from free will 1 
 But let us return to the point at issue." 
 He passed his hand over his brow as if 
 to drive away the dark and bitter feel- 
 ings which for a moment had been re- 
 flected on his face. 
 
 " Should you desire Evert to be hon- 
 ored with an order 1 " 
 
 " Yes, I should with all my heart." 
 
 " It would make you happy ] " 
 
 " Yes, it would afford me a real joy." 
 
 " And wherefore 1 Is it the distinction 
 which flatters your vanity 1 " 
 
 "Perhaps," answered Ellen, smiling. 
 " But to speak frankly, I think it is also 
 the consciousness of having a husband 
 who, through his eminent qualities, de- 
 serves to wear a decoration of honor." 
 
 " You are thus ambitious in your hus- 
 band's behalf] " . 
 
 " Yes, and it is about the only ambition 
 that is granted to us married women." 
 
 " But you have not confined yourself 
 solely to this ] " 
 
 " No, that is true ; I have been so also 
 on my own account." She leaned back 
 against the sofa and fastened her eyes 
 on a picture, as she added with a thought- 
 ful look, " But for us childless women it 
 can be excusable if we abandon ourselves 
 
 to some folly. How would you have us 
 pass the time 1 " 
 
 " In doing good." 
 
 " True ! But still there is a good deal 
 of superfluous time, which falls to the lot 
 of the unoccupied. Then do not be- 
 grudge them the compensation which 
 they might find in the pouring out of 
 their fancy, or in the dreams it creates. 
 If their poetical attempts are of no use, 
 they do no harm ; but they are the prod- 
 uct of that surplus of feeling which 
 must find vent in some way. It is not 
 from vanity that they write, these poor 
 enthusiasts without aim or object for 
 their existence ; no, it is from an indwell- 
 ing need, which when it is allowed to 
 clothe itself in words yields the soul a 
 peculiar satisfaction. What does the 
 poor poet care at the moment when ecs- 
 tasy lifts him above a cold and desolate 
 reality, whether the world praises or 
 finds fault with these tones which sprang 
 from the depths of his soul 1 Ambition 
 does not exist at those times when the 
 poet gives form to his fancy ; it comes 
 afterwards, when the cold reason and 
 vanity sit down to calculate the advan- 
 tages of it." Never before had she ex- 
 pressed herself so unreservedly before 
 Uno, and without being aware of it her- 
 self, there was much shadowed forth in 
 her words which Uno had hitherto only 
 guessed. 
 
 "If you had been a mother, would 
 you not then have appeared as an au- 
 thoress 1 " 
 
 " No, never. Then I should have had 
 no time left to dream away." 
 
 " Nor any time for pleasure either? " 
 
 " Pleasure 1 My greatest, my only 
 real pleasure I would then have found 
 in my home." Her eyes shone with a 
 strange light, and an expression of sweet 
 and unutterable feelings spread over her 
 whole face. 
 
 " What an excellent mother would she 
 not have been ! " thought Uno, and could 
 not turn his eyes away from her. "O
 
 70 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 fate, fate ! why did I not learn her 
 worth before ! " He sighed and re- 
 sumed, " But you now in your imagina- 
 tion see a happiness which in reality you 
 would not perhaps have treasured so 
 highly. Do you think that you would 
 have the courage to renounce these 
 pleasures which seem to he such a 
 need to you, for the sake of your chil- 
 dren 1 " 
 
 " A need, do you say ? " exclaimed she 
 with animation and turned her face to- 
 wards him. "Ah, how little you know 
 me!" 
 
 " But if they are not a need, what can 
 then force you to waste your time and 
 health in this empty society life 1 " 
 
 The word " force " seemed to recall 
 Ellen to herself, and to remind her that 
 she ought to give heed to what she said. 
 Her face, which a few moments before 
 had had that peculiar dreamy and inno- 
 cent expression which characterized her 
 first youth, now resumed its usual re- 
 served aspect. 
 
 " Nothing forces me ; but- I follow 
 with the stream, from lack of interest for 
 anything else." 
 
 Uno, who had not for an instant turned 
 his gaze from Ellen's face, closely ob- 
 served the changes in it. He saw imme- 
 diately that he had brought the conver- 
 sation upon a territory which she would 
 never allow him to enter. 
 
 "You, Ellen, with your education, 
 might have interested yourself in some- 
 thing else than spending your days in 
 this aimless way." 
 
 " Let us leave this subject. It seems 
 to me better to be a fool among fools 
 than to aspire to be original. Besides, I 
 have in my poetical attempts found an 
 occupation which is fully in harmony 
 with my natural inclination, however 
 blamable you may find my rhyming," 
 added she smiling. 
 
 " Now, I no longer think it blamable. 
 Ah ! the time is long since past when I 
 wished only to discover faults in you." 
 
 Baroness Ernstein entered and inter- 
 rupted the conversation. 
 
 "Where do you intend to spend the 
 summer 1 " asked she of Ellen after they 
 had talked awhile about indifferent 
 things. 
 
 " Both the Rubens and the Kerners 
 have invited us to spend the summer with 
 them ; but I have not yet decided. It 
 will depend upon how much leisure 
 Evert has; he is now very much occu- 
 pied." 
 
 " Shall you not stay at your charming 
 little EksholmV' resumed the Baron- 
 ess. 
 
 " It is not yet in order," answered El- 
 len. " Besides, the physicians may order 
 me to spend some weeks at a watering 
 place." 
 
 " I suppose you are now so well, dear 
 Ellen," said Evert, " that we can take a 
 drive to Djurgarden on the 1st of May] 
 I thought that we would then try my 
 new carriage. It will certainly be one 
 of the handsomest turnouts at Djurgar- 
 den. As regards the summer, I have 
 decided to visit *** baths this year; it 
 seems to be a great place of resort and I 
 desire that you may be seen there. 
 Uuo's brother-in-law and family are go- 
 ing to be there some weeks. I have al- 
 ready written and engaged suitable rooms 
 for you ; I do not think I shall spend all 
 my time at the baths, for I cannot be so 
 long away from the Diet. Are you sat- 
 isfied with my arrangement 1 " 
 
 "Yes, Evert. To be sure I rather 
 wished to spend the summer at Eksholm; 
 but as you have already made your ar- 
 rangements, I am satisfied." 
 
 " And in that you do wisely. Besides, 
 I will tell you that Eksholm is not a 
 place where I shall ever stay. It belongs 
 to you, not me, as included in that 
 highly unsatisfactory settlement which 
 your mother made." 
 
 "That which is mine is certainly
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 71 
 
 yours also," answered Ellen, and offered 
 him her hand with a gentle smile. 
 
 " That sounds very well, but has this 
 against it, that it does not exactly fit 
 with an arrangement which indicates the 
 most hum'iliating distrust of me." 
 
 " My dear Evert, when my mother 
 made this arrangement, I was a child, 
 and you a person whom she did not 
 know and consequently could not offend 
 with it." 
 
 " That holds for your mother, but not 
 for you. Had you really loved me and 
 possessed confidence in me, you would 
 have cancelled these conditions." 
 
 " My dear Evert, if the day ever comes 
 when'you need this sum which my mother 
 left at my disposal, you can be fully con- 
 vinced that I will let you have it. I 
 have now used the interest of it to alle- 
 viate the need of some few ; but what I 
 have done is unhappily so little compared 
 with what I desire to do." 
 
 " That is very well ; but you carry out 
 your charity, as you do everything else, 
 in the wrong way. You visit these poor 
 places, sit down there and make fine 
 speeches, provide for a few families, and 
 so forth ; but what advantage do you 
 derive from it 1 " 
 
 " That of having relieved trouble and 
 mitigated wretchedness." 
 
 " Very romantic ! but if you were not 
 governed by such an overweening self- 
 love, you would have consulted with me, 
 and then we should both have had satis- 
 faction from it. In all the relations of 
 life you ought to rely solely on me." 
 
 " Hereafter I shall advise with you." 
 
 " Good ! - I desire you to give two or 
 three hundred riks thalers to the Treas- 
 urer, to be distributed among the poor 
 of the city on the birthday which is soon 
 to occur in the royal family. This, my 
 dear, is a noble way of doing good ; for 
 in the first place it shows your respect 
 and regard for the royal family, and next 
 you help the needy with it. There is 
 some reason in such an act." 
 
 Ellen made no reply. 
 
 " You are silent. Of course this prop- 
 osition is not acceptable to you. How 
 could you, in your self-love, acknowledge 
 that what I propose is right, and with 
 your fanciful character how is it possible 
 for you to do anything that is sensible or 
 calculated to serve a purpose 1 " 
 
 Ellen looked tired and annoyed ; but 
 she forced her face to assume another 
 expression as she said : 
 
 " Evert, you do me injustice. I am 
 always willing to gratify your desires 
 and to act in accordance with them." 
 
 " I wish it were so, but hitherto I have 
 not perceived any of that willingness." 
 
 " You have my full permission to gi^ 
 the three hundred riks thalers to the 
 Treasurer, but do not do it in my name, 
 if you " Ellen ceased and looked at 
 her husband with a shy expression. 
 
 " Leave that matter to me, my dear. 
 The Treasurer has personal friendship 
 and respect for me and never fails to 
 show- it. I am invited to dine with him 
 to-day. I am now obliged to leave you, 
 but will be home at one o'clock, for I am 
 at leisure to-day and can go with you to 
 Djurgarden. I wish people to see us 
 together, so that every one can say of us 
 that we still live happily after a five 
 years' marriage." 
 
 Evert nodded to Ellen and left the 
 room. When he had made his toilet, 
 which was no slight affair for him, he 
 returned to his wife, perfumed and 
 dressed with a care which showed how 
 anxious he was to preserve his reputation 
 of a " handsome man." 
 
 " I forgot to tell you, Ellen, that I de- 
 sire you to work more zealously on the 
 second volume of your poems. I think, 
 besides, that you ought never to receive 
 morning calls anywhere but in your 
 study ; a literary woman ought to spend 
 her forenoons there, else any one would 
 think you were not such a person. One 
 thing more ; the subject of woman's ed- 
 ucation is now the fashion, and it seems
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 to "me you ought to write something 
 about it. Adieu ! Do not forget to 
 think of your toilet for the 1st of May." 
 With this he left. 
 Ellen smiled bitterly. 
 
 The 1st of May came. 
 
 " What an elegant carriage, "what re- 
 markably fine hoi'ses, what a handsome 
 couple ! " These were the exclamations 
 which were heard among the crowd 
 when the Assessor of Ochard and his 
 wife drove by in their splendid new 
 barouche. 
 
 " What a charming hat Fru Ochard 
 has on ! Such a peculiar shape ! You 
 can be sure that it is the newest style 
 when she wears it," said the ladies. 
 
 " He is noted for his exquisite taste, 
 that Ochard ! Just look at the harness 
 and see how elegant it is ! " said the lions 
 of the capital. 
 
 "0, if I could be in Fru Ochard's 
 place ! " thoiight the young girls. " How 
 magnificently she is dressed, how much 
 notice she attracts, and what a handsome 
 husband she has ! She ia certainly to 
 be envied ! " 
 
 Evert was happy as he sat and smiled 
 so tenderly at Ellen, chatting gayly ; for 
 although apparently taken up with his 
 wife, he did not fail to observe all the 
 glances, full of admiration or envy, which 
 everywhere followed them. 
 
 They stopped at the " plain," ' and 
 Evert alighted to greet Countess Kerner 
 as she sat in her carriage. With his foot 
 on the step, he spoke with her a mo- 
 ment ; then he said some flattering 
 words to Baroness Ernstein about her 
 toilet and hastened from her to the 
 Rubens carriage, which he discovered a 
 little farther off. By this means he ob- 
 tained an opportunity of shining with 
 his aristocratic acquaintances. 
 
 "Ellen looks pale. How is she 1 ?" 
 asked Countess Rubens. 
 
 <( She is perfectly well," was E vert's 
 answer ; but he was highly displeased 
 with Ellen for not rouging a little, as he 
 had wished, in order to get a fresher 
 look. 
 
 When he returned to his wife, he found 
 her carriage surrounded by a number 
 of young men, who competed to render 
 the wealthy and distinguished poetess 
 their homage; for in their estimation 
 the value of her poetical productions 
 was considerably enhanced by the wealth 
 and luxury she displayed: A poetess in 
 an ordinary dress and on foot can never, 
 according to the judgment of such per- 
 sons, possess the genuis of one who rides 
 in a costly carriage behind magnificent 
 horses, and is dressed in silk and velvet. 
 
 When Evert again sat beside his wife, 
 he said in a displeased tone, although 
 his face wore a smiling expression, 
 
 " It is too bad, Ellen, that you are so 
 stubborn; if you had followed my ad- 
 vice and colored your cheeks qtiite slight- 
 ly, I should have escaped the unpleasant 
 effects of your looking pale and suffering. 
 But you are bound to follow your fan- 
 tastic caprices in everything ! " 
 
 A few days after this, people read the 
 following in all the papers ; 
 
 " The Assessor of Ochard and his wife 
 have given three hundred riks thalers to 
 the Treasurer, to be distributed among 
 the most needy in the capital on his 
 Royal Highness, the Crown Prince's birth- 
 day." 
 
 On the evening of the day on which this 
 appeared in the newspapers, Evert came 
 in to his wife with Count Uno Kerner. 
 
 " Try to chat away an hour with Uno, " 
 said he, "until I am through with Count 
 
 K , who has something important to 
 
 say to me. I would then like to speak 
 a few words with you, Uno." 
 
 "You were not at Djurgarden on the 
 1st of May 1 ?" said Ellen, who observed
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 73 
 
 with surprise that Uno looked unusually 
 cold and reserved. 
 
 " No, I had no desire to see all that 
 folly and then think of all the misery 
 that exists," answered Uno. 
 
 But the weather was glorious, it was a 
 really beautiful spring day," 
 
 " True ! I enjoyed it too in my way. 
 I spent the 1st of May at Loda." 
 
 " At Lbda 1 fourteen miles from here ! " 
 
 " Yes, the farther away the better. 
 I went there the last of April and came 
 back yesterday. 
 
 " Then you had an especial reason for 
 this journey ] " 
 
 "Yes, but it was entirely personal. 
 It was a caprice, if you will. But the 
 return here effaced all the glorious im- 
 pressions of my little trip in the country 1 ?" 
 
 " Has anything unpleasant occurred 1 " 
 said she kindly. 
 
 "Yes. The angel whom I there 
 adored changed at my arrival here to an 
 ordinary woman. 0, illusions ! how 
 mournful you are ! " 
 
 Ellen's eyes sank before the expression 
 in Uno's, and a deep flush burned on 
 her cheeks. She was silent. 
 
 " That was a fine donation to the poor, 
 which Evert and his wife gave to the 
 Treasurer," added he directly with a per- 
 ceptible bitterness in his voice. "When 
 I read of it, I remembered a little dis- 
 pute which you and I had about the 
 beautiful quality of being unpretending. 
 You have probably forgotten the con- 
 troversy ] " 
 
 Ellen was not able to answer. Every 
 word lacerated her heart and tore open 
 the wounds which bled there in silence. 
 
 " I remember right well your asserting 
 that you possessed the rare quality of 
 not wishing to shine with the good which 
 you did." 
 
 "And you did not believe that I spoke 
 the truth," replied Ellen in a low voice. 
 
 " Well, then, was I right or wrong 
 when I doubted ? * 
 
 Ellen bowed her head. 
 
 " Was I wrong when I believed that 
 you, like most women, was disposed to 
 play the part which would take best out 
 on the world's stage ? " 
 
 Ellen did not answer. 
 
 " You are silent, you think that I 
 meddle in an unbecoming manner in af- 
 fairs that do not concern me. You feel 
 wounded, and consider me wrong." 
 
 " No, Uno, no," she whispered, " you 
 are right, I am not unpretending, I am 
 a vain fool who wishes to shine and win 
 applause." She looked up ; two tears 
 rolled slowly down her cheeks. 
 
 Uno had never seen Ellen weep before. 
 There was something so humble, so 
 mild and ravishing in the expression of 
 her face, that he could have thrown him- 
 self on his knees and retracted his words ; 
 but there was a certain something in her 
 whole demeanor which in the first place 
 inspired respect and which restrained 
 every outburst of passionate feeling. He 
 therefore remained motionless in his 
 place, but with his gaze fastened on this 
 face which was surrounded by a halo of 
 purity. He could not refrain from 
 seizing her hand while he said with 
 warmth, 
 
 " Forgive me ! I have wounded you. 
 I have forced tears from your eyes with 
 my words, and have now as < formerly 
 done you injustice. Only tell me that it 
 is not you who have given publicity to 
 your work of charity, and I will believe 
 you. Yes, I will believe you, so much 
 rather as I ought to have guessed that 
 this was one of Evert's freaks." 
 
 " Uno," exclaimed Ellen with anima- 
 tion, " you now for the first time commit 
 a mistake. Evert has no part in it. The 
 whole folly of this act belongs to me, me 
 alone." 
 
 " Ah, Ellen, why force me to consider 
 you a slave to a pitiful vanity 1 " Uno's 
 look was sorrowful. 
 
 " Because one friend ought not to 
 cherish incorrect ideas about the other," 
 answered she.
 
 74 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 A pause ensued. Uno rose and went 
 to the piano. He preluded a long time. 
 Ellen leaned her cheek against her hand 
 and looked out into the street. Sudden- 
 ly he began to sing the same ballad that 
 he had heard Ellen sing at Lpda. There 
 were wonderful things passing in the 
 young woman's breast as she sat and 
 listened to this voice. The emptiness of 
 her home, the aimlessness of her life, so 
 rich in outer splendor, so poor in actual 
 happiness, all, all appeared before her 
 inner view, and the longing for domestic 
 bliss and mutual love which had so often 
 filled her heart during her marriage was 
 now felt more acutely. She could have 
 wept, wept over herself and all the 
 beautiful dreams which had fled. Mem- 
 ories, tempting and yet strangely bitter, 
 came up in her soul as she recalled the 
 evening when she, abandoned to herself 
 and in solitude, had sung that song, and 
 again she seemed to feel the same trem- 
 bling which she experienced when Uno 
 bade her sing it once more. How much 
 had she not then hoped from life and 
 from the man to whom she was be- 
 trothed, and how had not this man's ir- 
 remediable vanity humiliated and wound- 
 ed her, and by this means laid waste the 
 Eden of which she had dreamed ! 
 
 Ellen remained motionless even after 
 the song ceased. From the confused 
 whirl of thoughts and feelings in her 
 soul, she was roused by these words, 
 which Uno uttered quite near her, 
 
 " Let me once more hear you sing." 
 
 " It is impossible this evening," stam- 
 mered she, without turning her head. 
 Uno continued, after a moment's si- 
 lence, 
 
 u Do you remember our little feuds at 
 Lbda 1 " 
 
 She bowed her head affirmatively, and 
 he continued, 
 
 " Do you remember what a sharp re- 
 buke you gave me on Ebba's account, 
 in the supposition that I loved Sap- 
 pho?" 
 
 " You said that I was mistaken, and I 
 believed you." 
 
 "Yes, God knows .you were mistaken; 
 it is so easy to be in error ! We gener- 
 ally judge by appearances." 
 
 " Alas, yes ! But that time appear- 
 ances were against you." 
 
 " I will tell you all the circumstances 
 of the case. It was said that Sappho 
 had had a previous attachment, and only 
 married Oscar out of pique. She and I 
 happened to speak of family relations, 
 and then I said, that, on no conditions 
 in the world, would I, like Oscar, marry a 
 young, beautiful, and wealthy woman, 
 who only gave me her hand because she 
 could not have the one she loved. Sap- 
 pho was at first very much excited and 
 then burst into tears. At the sight of 
 the grief I had occasioned, and realizing 
 the lack of delicacy in my words, I 
 begged her forgiveness, while I was fully 
 as agitated as she. It was at this mo- 
 ment that you saw me at her feet, and 
 came to your conclusion about my feel- 
 ings. It has often pained me to think 
 that you could believe me capable of so 
 despicable an act as to speak to a mar- 
 ried woman of love." 
 
 " Since then I have made up my mind 
 never to judge by appearances," replied 
 Ellen, who had listened with interest to 
 Uno's words. "But if I committed a 
 mistake in regard to Sappho, I did not 
 in regard to Ebba. It has surprised me 
 when I have thought of the matter, that 
 you, who are so stern and strict in all 
 that pertains to morals, could for a mo- 
 ment try to make an impression on 
 Ebba when you were not attached to her." 
 
 " You are right, Ellen ; but the reason 
 of it was that I wished to love her. Ah ! 
 even to this moment I desire that I could 
 have become attached to this charming 
 child." 
 
 " If you wished it, why could you not ] 
 She, who is so fully created to shed hap- 
 piness around her, ought not to be hard 
 to love."
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAK 
 
 75 
 
 " I could not love her, for I already 
 loved another."' 
 
 Why did Ellen blush? She did not 
 know herself. Uno continued, 
 
 "And this other I did not wish to 
 love. One is sometimes made up of sheer 
 contradictions, and so was it also with me. 
 We are governed more by, our feelings 
 than by our will." 
 
 " Not always ! " said Ellen, with an 
 open glance. " With our will we control 
 our feelings, so that they do not exceed 
 the domain of right." 
 
 " That was the use which I made of 
 my will. I should despise myself if I 
 allowed passion to make me forgetful of 
 what honor and conscience demand." 
 
 Evert's entrance broke off the conver- 
 sation. The latter began to talk to Uno 
 about the services which he considered 
 himself to have rendered the government 
 during the Diet, and spoke so boastiugly 
 of it, that Ellen blushed with distress. 
 She feared that her husband, in his zeal 
 to obtain an order, would expose his main 
 weakness too much. What she dreaded 
 actually occurred when Evert said, 
 
 " You find from this, that in all justice 
 they cannot avoid giving me a proof of 
 their satisfaction, provided that some of 
 my friends at court present the matter 
 in the proper light. In this respect I 
 count upon your and your brother-iu law's 
 friendship for me. You stand well at 
 court, and every one knows what an in- 
 fluence your brother-in-law possesses." 
 
 " Kest assured that neither he nor I will 
 neglect to employ it to your advantage," 
 replied Uno, as Ellen fancied, somewhat 
 coldly although politely. She felt that 
 Uno's eyes rested on her. 
 
 " To me personally it is all the same 
 whether I have a star or not," resumed 
 Evert ; " but it would afford me pleasure 
 because Ellen desires it, and also for the 
 reason that it is rather a shame to lack 
 this decoration than an honor to wear 
 it. Besides, if one has a wife with never 
 so little vanity, it becomes something 
 
 which he almost regards as a necessi- 
 
 ty-" 
 
 "Would it afford Ellen so great a 
 pleasure to see Evert decorated with the 
 North Star," * asked Uno with a search- 
 ing glance. 
 
 Evert reddened and looked uneasily at 
 his wife ; but his anxiety was unnecessa- 
 ry. Ellen answered smiling, but without 
 looking up, 
 
 " Certainly it would." 
 
 When Uno left Ochard's house that 
 evening, he thought : " And that vain 
 simpleton can have such a gem of a wife ! 
 How afraid she is that the least shadow 
 shall fall on him ! But how is it possible 
 that such a richly endowed nature can 
 love this fool, who lives only for^his van- 
 ity ! Does she love him 1 " he asked 
 himself, and stopped abruptly. 
 
 It was at the end of June. The fash- 
 ionable watering-place, ***, was filled with 
 persons belonging to rich and noble fam- 
 ilies. Luxuiy and magnificence were here 
 displayed according to each one's greater 
 or less desire to shine. People came to 
 bathe and regain their health, to amuse 
 themselves and make a show, to compete 
 with and eclipse others. They drove the 
 chariot of folly and pleasure at full speed, 
 under the pretext of recuperating their 
 strength by inhaling the fresh sea-air. 
 
 Assessor Ochard and wife appeared 
 there with all pomp and state. Ellen 
 displayed a magnificence of attire, which, 
 according to custom, excited open admi- 
 ration and secret envy. There, as every- 
 where, she threw all others into the 
 shade with her taste and elegance. She 
 was, besides, an acknowledged woman of 
 genius, a favorite poetess who had re- 
 ceived the prize, and it was consequently 
 natural that she should become the ob- 
 ject of flattery and homage from all 
 quarters. 
 
 * A Swedish decoration of the highest order.
 
 76 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 The day after their arrival at ***, Evert 
 came in to his wife, accompanied by Uno. 
 Ellen looked almost frightened when she 
 saw him. 
 
 "My coming surprises you," said he. 
 
 " Yes, it does, indeed. You contem- 
 plated spending the summer abroad," 
 answered she. 
 
 " Yes, that was my intention. But I 
 have become tired of long journeys. I 
 have travelled all over Europe and there- 
 fore " 
 
 " He allowed me to persxiade him to 
 come here," fell in Evert. " As I cannot 
 stay here more than a week, you and 
 Baroness Ernstein would be left entirely 
 without masculine protection, when I re- 
 turned to Stockholm ; therefore I pro- 
 posed to Uno to take the responsibility 
 of watching over you and becoming your 
 chevalier during my absence." 
 
 " That was a trust conferring so much 
 honor, that I would by no means have 
 resigned it to any other," said Uno. 
 
 The first ball was given the same even- 
 ing. Evert stood in the midst of some 
 friends and acquaintances and looked at 
 the dance. Ellen was dancing with Uno. 
 
 " Are you going away in a week 1 " 
 inquired one of the circle. 
 
 "Yes, I am compelled to, on account 
 of matters of importance in the Diet," 
 answered he. 
 
 " And leave your charming wife here 
 all alone ? " 
 
 " She is acquainted with almost every- 
 body at the bath. She is going to share 
 her apartments with Baroness Ernstein. 
 Besides, Count Uno Kerner, as a distant 
 relative of my wife's, is to be her pro- 
 tector during my absence." 
 
 " Is your wife related to the Kerners 1 " 
 
 " Yes, her mother was a relative of 
 Countess Kerner's," replied Evert with 
 stiidied carelessness. 
 
 " You have been very fortunate, 
 Ochard, in obtaining such a wealthy, 
 amiable, and gifted woman for your 
 wife." 
 
 " I can truly admit that fortune fa- 
 vored me that time," said Evert smiling ; 
 "for I assure you that I had no idea of 
 courting her in the beginning, and I 
 should probably never have thought of 
 doing so, for I was then in love with an- 
 other lady, had she not shown me an at- 
 tention which informed me that I had 
 made a conquest unawares. When a 
 man sees himself loved by a young, beau- 
 tiful, captivating woman, he easily ac- 
 commodates himself to his fate and 
 accepts the yoke she would impose." 
 
 " You have really an astonishing luck 
 with women." 
 
 "Yes, I do not know from what it 
 comes ; my wife, for example, actually 
 adores me." 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " We men cannot love so passionately 
 as women. Our time, besides, is taken 
 up by weightier matters ; but I am inex- 
 pressibly fond of her, and make it a point 
 of honor to comply with her wishes in 
 all things and her caprices also." 
 
 At the very beginning of the conversa- 
 tion, Uno, after finishing the dance, had 
 conducted Ellen to a sofa close behind 
 Evert, without the latter's observing it. 
 Both Uno and Ellen heard all that was 
 said. 
 
 She who was so careful of her hus- 
 band's reputation, and did everything to 
 place him in such a light that his faults 
 should not appear, now heard this hus- 
 band boast in a heartless manner that he 
 had not been the one who first loved her, 
 but that it was she who, through her vio- 
 lent fancy, had occasioned him to bind 
 himself to her. And besides this boast 
 that she adored him, and that he from a 
 sense of honor gratified her caprices, all, 
 all was calculated to wound her sensitive 
 soul. 
 
 With a dark brow and threatening look 
 Uno sat at Ellen's side. When the speak- 
 ers had left, he said in a tone full of bit- 
 terness, 
 
 " It was thus you who, through your
 
 THE WIFE OP A TAIN MAN. 
 
 77 
 
 violent love, compelled your husband to 
 pay his addresses to you 1 He does not 
 make any great secret of the happiness 
 which your love conferred upon him." 
 
 It needed only this to increase Ellen's 
 pain. She knew that she was observed 
 on all sides, and that any exhibition of 
 feeling would be noticed ; she therefore 
 repressed by a violent effort the grief 
 which would have forced tears from her 
 eyes. She looked at Uno and said in an 
 almost beseeching voice, 
 
 " Uno, not a word further upon this, if 
 the friendship you have for me is real." 
 
 " How can you appeal to my friendship 
 at this moment 3 Do you know 
 
 " I know that Uno Kerner is too much 
 of a nobleman to wish to wound the wo- 
 man who " 
 
 " Is not happy ! You are right." He 
 rose and left her. 
 
 A few moments afterwards Ellen saw 
 him chatting merrily with Baroness Au- 
 gusta. 
 
 At this sight she felt so miserable, so 
 alone, so deserted by all, that she could 
 have melted into tears. Uno's tone and 
 manner had pained her, she fancied that 
 there was in this tone something scorn- 
 ful and contemptuous. Ah ! if he had 
 spoken kindly, had stayed with her and 
 sought by his presence to dispel the 
 grief which her husband's words occa- 
 sioned her, she would then have felt less 
 miserable. His coldness and indifference 
 wounded her deeply. While she was un- 
 der the sway of these painful feelings, 
 we will listen to the Baroness and Uno's 
 conversation. 
 
 " I suppose you saw Ellen at the time 
 when her fancy for Ochard arose ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly ! He had incredible 
 difficulty in interesting the proud young 
 girl, who regarded all young men with 
 great indifference. I have never seen a 
 girl who cared so little for attention. I 
 think that he pressed his suit in vain for 
 two whole years." 
 
 " And yet I have heard precisely the 
 
 contrary, namely, that she had first taken 
 a fancy to him." 
 
 " Ha ha, ha ! " laughed the Baroness. 
 " I would bet anything that Ochard him- 
 self has spread that ; but any one who 
 has seen them can testify to the contra- 
 ry. I suppose he will assert in a few 
 years that Ellen proposed to him, in or- 
 der to prove palpably how irresistible he 
 has been." 
 
 " But one cannot readily suppose that 
 an honorable man would wish to boast at 
 his wife's expense." 
 
 " But a vain man will do that and 
 much more, to gratify his ruling passion. 
 You see, Count, you do not wish to 
 acknowledge what pitiful fools men are, 
 when they are tempted by the demon of 
 vanity. As far as Ochard personally is 
 concerned, he is the greatest of all such 
 fools." 
 
 " You will not dispute that Fru Ochard 
 loved him 1 " 
 
 " No, not by any means ; but that she 
 was not the one who first fell into the 
 flame, I can assure you ; and what is 
 more, I do not think that Ellen is one of 
 the passionate kind. She loves her hus- 
 band with a mild and quiet affection, 
 which makes her capable of any sacri- 
 fice ; but she does not and has never 
 entertained any strong and vehement 
 passion for him. As little would she 
 be able to feel it for another." 
 
 " Your words would lead one to infer 
 that she is a little bit insensible." 
 
 " Such at least is my idea of Ellen's 
 character." 
 
 " There would then be a contradiction 
 between her power of imagination and 
 her heart, for the former is glowing as 
 the southern sun, at least to judge by 
 her poetic productions." 
 
 " And why not 1 One capacity of the 
 soul is often developed at the expense of 
 another. Ellen would have been too 
 richly endowed if her sensibility had 
 received the same degree of strength as 
 her genius. Besides, it may be that her
 
 78 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 sensibility stopped at this normal stand- 
 point, just from the reason that she 
 happened to become attached to this 
 man, who is now her husband, and who, 
 notwithstanding his handsome face and 
 elegant attire, appears somewhat super- 
 ficial on a nearer acquaintance." 
 
 Uno had become thoughtful. The 
 music called the Baroness to the dance ; 
 but Uno remained still and followed all 
 Ellen's motions with the greatest in- 
 terest, as if he had wished to read her 
 heart. 
 
 That night, when Ellen returned home, 
 she had taken the resolution not to refer 
 to the conversation that she had heard. 
 She now knew this vain man perfectly. 
 To rebuke him for the fault which he 
 had committed would only wound his 
 self-love and completely break the har- 
 mony between them. She no longer 
 thought of domestic happiness. Nothing 
 of that kind could come in question with 
 a man who placed his desire to shine in 
 the world before all else. 
 
 " I have promised before God to share 
 prosperity and adversity with him, to 
 live for his happiness, to forget myself 
 for his sake ; well then, I will keep my 
 vow, regardless of how he keeps his ; and 
 even if my heart bleeds, I will still be 
 faithful to my diity," thought Ellen, as 
 she went to join her husband. 
 Evert said with a triumphant smile, 
 
 " I owe you a compliment for your 
 toilet, it was exquisite ; and as Count 
 
 F , Baron U , Captain E , 
 
 and some others said to me, there were 
 none who could gainsay that you were 
 the best dressed of any at the ball. The 
 only thing I had to find fault with was, 
 that your hair was not so arranged as to 
 show its abundance. A lady of the world, 
 dear Ellen, never neglects to display the 
 treasures of beauty and charms which 
 nature has given her." 
 
 Two days subsequent Evert gave a 
 
 breakfast to his numeixms friends, as he 
 was to depart the following day. Uno, 
 of course, was among them, besides 
 Baroness Ernstein's brother-in-law, the 
 young Baron Alfred Ernstein. When 
 the gentlemen had drank wine, and it 
 had gone to their heads a little, they be- 
 gan to talk about women. Evert related 
 how lucky he had been and still was 
 with the fair sex. He regretted that he 
 could not even as a married man escape 
 the troublesome fortune of exciting love. 
 " It is generally asserted," said a 
 young Lieutenant of the Guard, "that 
 you have been deeply in love with Baron- 
 ess Ernstein, and even betrothed to her. 
 If that is so, why did you not marry 
 her?" 
 
 "Well, what would you have a man 
 do 1 I was not sufficiently enamored 
 to content myself with love in a cot- 
 tage," answered Evert, shrugging his 
 shoulders ; " but I willingly confess that 
 I thought a good deal of Augusta, and it 
 is only my sense of honor which makes 
 me as a married man remain cold to the 
 regard which she still cherishes for me." 
 
 " Bravo ! " exclaimed the Lieutenant, 
 laughing. " The Baroness is a friend of 
 the wife and in love with the husband ! 
 But, my dear fellow, you may try to 
 cheat whom you will, still you will not 
 get me to believe that your heart is cold 
 to the beautiful Baroness. One cannot 
 very well love his wife to all eternity, 
 even if that wife is as charming a woman 
 in all respects as yours." 
 
 "You forget that when one is loved 
 passionately, and knows himself to be 
 the object of a captivating wife's ex- 
 clusive devotion, he cannot but remain 
 faithful to her. I, at least, am too honor- 
 able a man to act otherwise." 
 
 " In the mean time the Baroness is 
 your wife's, intimate friend, and your 
 sense of honor is in continual strife with 
 the impression which the beautiful wo- 
 man must make on you." 
 
 " Say rather the pain which it must
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 79 
 
 occasion to see one's self loved, and neither 
 possess the inclination nor the right to 
 respond to the tenderness which one in- 
 spires against his will." Evert's eyes 
 flew over to the young Baron, who, pale 
 and silent, had listened to the whole con- 
 versation. 
 
 Uno went forward and laid his hand on 
 Evert's shoulder, while he said, 
 
 " And it is very painful to see a wo- 
 man with an unblemished replication 
 become the victim of a thoughtless jest." 
 Uno turned to the others : " Gentlemen, 
 there are women enough without honor 
 to jest over ; therefore leave those who 
 have it in peace." 
 
 A general silence succeeded these 
 words. Evert colored with resentment, 
 and a feeling of spite against Uno arose 
 in his heart ; but his vanity needed the 
 Count, therefore he swallowed the re- 
 buke. 
 
 Ellen and Baroness Augusta were to 
 take a short ride on horseback in the 
 afternoon. They had decided to go 
 alone, attended only by a servant. 
 
 The gentlemen had not yet separated 
 after their late breakfast when Baron Al- 
 fred discovered his sister-in-law on horse- 
 back in the main avenue. He stole away 
 from the general commotion which the 
 wine had occasioned. 
 
 The Baroness and Ellen allowed their 
 horses to go at a foot-pace, while they 
 held a lively conversation. The subject 
 which they treated was woman's position 
 in life. 
 
 "The fault with us women," said 
 Ellen, "lies just here, that we regard 
 ourselves as dolls in society, afcd do not 
 place any higher aim before us. Just 
 the indifference which even you manifest 
 is a prevailing trait with all our sex and 
 a result of our education, such as it ribw 
 is. Tell me, do you really feel satisfied 
 when yoxi think of your past life and ask 
 yourself the question, What is the ob- 
 
 ject of my existence ? Have I been of 
 use in the spot where I was placed 1 ? 
 Have I lived for any benefit to myself or 
 others 1 What answer do you then make 
 your conscience ? " 
 
 " That I have amused myself, dressed 
 myself, thrown away large sums of mon- 
 ey, and yet with all this found time te- 
 dious, although it is scarcely sufficient for 
 recreations. But what in the name of 
 heaven would you have me do 1 We do 
 not live in the patriarchal times when it 
 was incumbent on women to fetch water 
 from the well. What can we, who are 
 rich and unoccupied, very well do, except, 
 like the Egyptian woman, to adorn our- 
 selves, amuse ourselves, and while away 
 the time at the toilet? We are a kind 
 of article of luxury in our rich husbands' 
 houses, and it becomes our only occupation 
 to flatter their vanity by our magnificence. 
 In all times man has treated woman as a 
 being inferior to him, and he will treat 
 her so for all time to come. Well then, 
 my friend, what remain's to us 1 Only to 
 draw the car of triumph for Our masters 
 by becoming the finest ornament in their 
 establishment." 
 
 " Do you know, Augusta, that there is 
 something sad in hearing a richly en- 
 dowed woman like you talk in this way ; 
 and just in consequence of this I main- 
 tain my assertion, that it is woman's own 
 disinclination to raise herself from her 
 childish condition which makes man re- 
 spect her so little. She presents a sad 
 image of folly and spiritual poverty, and 
 yet she wishes to be considered a think- 
 ing being. If, instead of this, she tried to 
 cultivate her soul by acquiring knowledge, 
 what a change would take place within 
 her, how different would she understand 
 her destiny ! It, is alas, only the will 
 which is wanting in us ; for one can be 
 of service in any sphere, and so regulate 
 one's life as to be a useful member of so- 
 ciety." 
 
 " Well, my little moralist, why do you 
 waste your life ] "
 
 80 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 Ellen was silent. 
 
 "I will tell you; you are a slave to 
 your husband's vanity. Your bonds are 
 as real and more indissoluble than those 
 of the black slave." 
 
 "Augusta, you are wrong." 
 
 " Hush, do not speak to me about 
 Evert ; I know him." 
 
 At that moment the trot of two horses 
 was heard behind them. 
 
 " There ! " exclaimed Augusta, " now 
 we are going to be disturbed ; we are 
 probably followed by some of those gen- 
 tlemen who have been drinking to such 
 an extent that they have lost the little 
 reason which fell to their share. I as- 
 sure you, that if we women are fine dolls 
 in society, the men are great fools in the 
 community. Are they thinking beings, 
 these men who get intoxicated with 
 strong drink and heedlessly abandon 
 themselves to all their miserable desires 1 
 If we are slaves to them, then they are 
 slaves to their passions." 
 
 "You have an entirely too dismal 
 philosophy of life, my dear Augusta. I, 
 for my part, can never but admire the 
 great things which have been accom- 
 plished in the world by women's sons, 
 and it seems to me that there is some- 
 thing so beautiful, so important, in the 
 consciousness that we, the weaker por- 
 tion of the human family, have been 
 placed at man's side as his helpmate. 
 As daughters we care for his old age, 
 as wives for his maturity, as mothers 
 for his childhood. It is our sons who 
 are to accomplish great deeds, and it is 
 the mother who in the child's soul must 
 sow the seeds of the man's virtues." 
 
 " Those seeds must have been very 
 sparsely sown when the harvest of virtues 
 has been so scanty," said Augusta. 
 
 " And why is this 1 " exclaimed Ellen 
 with spirit ; " because the eaothers spend 
 their lives as you and I do." The horses' 
 tread and greeting voices were now heard 
 close behind them. 
 
 Baron Alfred, a young man of twenty, 
 
 rode forward to his sister-in-law, and Uno 
 took his place at Ellen's side. He and 
 Ellen had not exchanged a word since 
 the ball. 
 
 " Perhaps we disturb the ladies," said 
 the Baron. 
 
 " Yes indeed, and we should be greatly 
 indebted to you, gentlemen, if you con- 
 tinued your ride," replied the Baroness. 
 
 " Do not be so cruel, my dear Augus- 
 ta ; I come with fresh greetings from a 
 person who is dear to both ladies," con- 
 tinued the Baron. 
 
 " Alfred, you seem at present to have 
 a certain disposition to talk nonsense." 
 
 " Not at all ; I take the Count to wit- 
 ness that my words were fully in accord- 
 ance with the truth." Alfred spoke with 
 that peculiar gayety under which one 
 tries to conceal strong emotion. 
 
 " Well, from whom then is the greet- 
 ing 1 " asked Ellen, who found it painful 
 to ride in silence at Uno's side. She 
 knew that his eyes sought hers ; but she 
 did not have the courage, after what she 
 had heard her husband utter, to meet 
 the cold, dark look which he had fas- 
 tened upon her. 
 
 " From your husband, your Grace. 
 That he is dear to you is but natural ; 
 and to judge from his words, he seems 
 to be the same to Augusta." 
 
 " From his words ] What does that 
 mean 1 " exclaimed the Baroness, and 
 threw her head back proudly. 
 
 " Yes, from his words. He just now 
 said in company, that Baroness Augusta 
 Ernstein was so in love with him that he 
 needed all his strength of soul and sense 
 of honor to escape the snares which her 
 love spread for him. Ah ! my sister, 
 you hane been very inconsiderate to 
 leave your heart's secret in Assessor 
 Ochard's keeping." 
 
 " Do you mean to insult me 1 " 
 
 " I speak only from what I have just 
 heard Ochard say." 
 
 " That goes too far," said the Baroness, 
 and jerked the reins so violently that
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 81 
 
 her horse was on the point of rearing. 
 " So mad, so foolhardy, he could not 
 be," she added. 
 
 " Ask the Count, or whom you please 
 of those who were present at breakfast, 
 and they will testify to the truth of my 
 words." 
 
 Ellen had become deadly pale during 
 this short conversation, and an acute 
 pain contracted the muscles of her face. 
 
 " Ellen, Ellen, your husband's beha- 
 vior is unwarrantable, but I shall humil- 
 iate him, I shall " 
 
 "Augusta, there must be some mis- 
 understanding," said Ellen anxiously ; 
 " they have misconstrued his words." 
 
 " Misconstrued ? " said the Baron ; 
 " they could not be understood in more 
 than one way." 
 
 " Yes, they could," answered Uno se- 
 riously ; " for the words which escaped 
 Ochard were uttered while his brain was 
 heated with wine, and what a man says 
 at such a moment no thinking person 
 allows himself to repeat." The Baron 
 colored at this rebuke. " I can besides 
 take the responsibility of declaring that 
 the Baroness has no reason to be dis- 
 quieted ; for if Ochard, in his hilarious 
 state of mind, has been inconsiderate in 
 his utterance, I know him sufficiently 
 well to feel sure that he will to-morrow 
 take back the precipitate words." 
 
 " Precipitate 1 " exclaimed the Baron- 
 ess. " This is not a question of precipi- 
 tation, but of an untruth which he has 
 uttered ; and I assure you, Count, that 
 I shall certainly force him to acknowledge 
 that it is so." 
 
 "Allow me to make a remark. If a 
 woman forces a man in her presence to 
 take back what he has said about her, it 
 does not prove that he has uttered an 
 xintruth, but only that he, from politeness, 
 would rather admit himself a liar, than 
 forget the respect which every well-bred 
 man owes to a lady. But if he, on the 
 contrary, in her absence, retractshis words, 
 then he has in this act acknowledged 
 
 that his assertion was false. Had the 
 Baron been a little older and more ac- 
 customed to associate with men, he 
 woflld not have forgotten himself so far 
 as to repeat a few thoughtless words to 
 his sister-in-law before he had heard 
 Ochard take them back, which he would 
 certainly have done after the eifects of 
 the wine had subsided ; this no one who 
 knows the chivalry which characterizes 
 Ochard's whole behavior can well doubt*" 
 
 A pause ensued. Ellen looked at Uno 
 with an expression of warm gratitude. 
 
 " Eli bien ! let us wait for to-morrow," 
 exclaimed the Baroness, gayly ; " but 
 beware, Count, if you have taken his 
 part and it is shown that he is unworthy 
 your sympathy, for then my anger wiH 
 also fall on you." 
 
 " I will submit to it in the full con- 
 sciousness of having to-day spoken ac*- 
 cording to my conviction." 
 
 " Good ! as .the road has begun to be 
 too narrow for four, I beg Ellen to ex- 
 cuse me if I take my cavalier with me 
 and form the advance guard. I feel a 
 great need of venting the indignation 
 which burns within me on somebody, and 
 who ought to be the scapegoat in my 
 husband's absence if not his brother 1 " 
 
 The Baroness and Baron Alfred urged 
 their horses forward a few yards and 
 then allowed them to take a more mod- 
 erate pace. From the lively manner in 
 which the Baroness moved her head, one 
 could conclude that she reprimanded her 
 young brother-in-law in good earnest. 
 
 Ellen and Uno had been left a long 
 way behind, and the servant rode at a 
 distance. Ellen broke the silence, 
 
 " Thanks for the friendly way in which 
 you took Evert's part," said she in an 
 almost shy voice. 
 
 " I saw how much you suffered, and I 
 wished, at whatever price, to make the 
 affair less unpleasant for you. I had on 
 my conscience a wrong which I had com- 
 mitted against you, and for which I de- 
 sired to make reparation."
 
 82 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN 
 
 " Wrong ! " repeated Ellen in an un- 
 steady voice. 
 
 "Yes ! I abandoned you when you 
 were deeply troubled .... I am a poor 
 friend, I fear ; and yet I would so gladly 
 serve you, so gladly be to you in a broth- 
 er's place. But we are not always what 
 we would be." 
 
 Again there was a pause. Ellen felt 
 grateful to Uno for not speaking of her 
 husband. 
 
 " Tell me frankly, have you been vexed 
 with me for my scarcely friendly beha- 
 vior 1 " 
 
 "Yes, vexed, that is the right word," 
 answered Ellen ; " I was vexed, but not 
 with you. I only felt that your friend- 
 ship was not like mine." 
 
 " And wherein lies the difference 1 " 
 
 "You become easily displeased with 
 me, are shocked at all my faults, and feel 
 angry because I am not free from them. 
 I know that you have faults, I perceive 
 them, but never make them the object 
 of search. I know that you have a noble 
 heart, that you are a man who, with a 
 stern sense of honor comprehend your 
 own duty and that of others, being strict 
 with yourself, while you are indulgent 
 towards all others but me. I like you 
 on account of these good qualities, with- 
 out feeling provoked because you are not 
 an ideal." 
 
 "I acknowledge the justice of your 
 mild censure, and yet I think I can de- 
 clare that my friendship for you is far 
 stronger than that which you entertain 
 for me." 
 
 " I do not think so. You men believe 
 that you cherish friendship, when in real- 
 ity you are only amused by the one whom 
 you call your friend. You willingly talk 
 with a person whose conversation enter- 
 tains you, and you consider yourself to be 
 that person's friend; but it only needs some 
 other to awaken your interest in a still 
 higher degree, and the former friend is 
 nothing to you. We, on the other hand, 
 are attracted to some moral quality, a 
 
 noble deed, an evidence of a true sense 
 of honor, of real love for humanity, of 
 elevated thought ; these are the basis of 
 our friendship ! " 
 
 " Do you give woman's love the same 
 foundation 1 " 
 
 " No, not always ; it is only necessary 
 to strike some chord in our nature which 
 sets the fancy in play, which transports 
 it, and the poor heart follows." 
 
 " But are you entitled to judge of that 
 which concerns love ? Have you ever 
 loved, or can you even comprehend what 
 love is 1 " 
 
 Uno would have given a good deal if 
 he had been able to look in Ellen's heart 
 at this moment and there read the an- 
 swer to his question. But the searching 
 glance was in vain. He could not even 
 see her eyes, for they were lowered. She 
 replied quite calmly, 
 
 " How can you ask me such a question, 
 when you know that I married from 
 love?" 
 
 Uno spurred his horse, causing him to 
 spring forward. Then he said, 
 
 " The Baroness seems to be giving her 
 brother-in-law a good scolding." 
 
 They talked awhile about indifferent 
 things, and soon joined their companions. 
 After resting in a beautiful spot, they all 
 returned home. On coming to a place 
 where the road narrowed, Ellen spurred 
 her horse and said to Augusta, with a 
 smile, 
 
 " Now it is our turn to form the ad- 
 vance guard." 
 
 When they had gone a little way 
 ahead of the others, Uno said, 
 
 "You wished to tell me something? " 
 
 "Yes, but I find difficulty in clothing 
 it in words." 
 
 " In spite of your friendship for me 1" 
 
 "Yes, in spite of it, I am -in embarrass- 
 ment." 
 
 " It concerns your husband. Have I 
 guessed right ? " 
 
 " Perfectly ! I desire that you may 
 not say anything to him with regard to
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAK 
 
 83 
 
 the words which he dropped concerning 
 the Baroness." There was something so 
 beseeching in look and voice, that Uno's 
 heart was softened, while he thought 
 with bitter indignation how little Ochard 
 knew how to value his good fortune in 
 possessing Ellen for a wife. 
 
 " The most insignificant desire of 
 yours is a law to me," replied Uno. 
 
 " Thanks ! " 
 
 " But remember that the Baroness has 
 a right to demand satisfaction." 
 
 " She shall have it, and you shall not 
 have defended him in vain. Believe me, 
 he deserves the good opinion which you 
 entertain of him." 
 
 " He, and he alone, always takes up 
 your whole soul. You are an admirable 
 wife, Ellen, and I would rather die than 
 live to see the day when you ceased to 
 be what you now are." 
 
 He spoke sincerely. He had too fresh 
 and uncorrupted a heart to be able 
 to love any one whom he did not es- 
 teern. 
 
 " I am a very imperfect wife," an- 
 swered Ellen, who felt so calm, so happy 
 from his words, " and I need all my hus- 
 band's indulgence." 
 
 The road widened again and they 
 could now ride abreast. 
 
 When the horses stopped before the 
 gate, Uno jumped off his and hastened 
 to lift Ellen down. For a moment violent 
 feelings stirred in his breast, and he felt 
 an irresistible desire to press her to his 
 heart. But his will was stronger than 
 his passion, and he lifted her from the 
 saddle without even his arm's trembling. 
 
 " I shall leave at about twelve o'clock," 
 said Evert to his wife the following morn- 
 ing. 
 
 " But before this you have a mistake 
 to rectify, a scandal to avert," replied El- 
 len, and proceeded to relate what Baron 
 Alfred had mentioned to the Baroness, as 
 
 well as the latter's determination to force 
 Evert to take back what he had said be- 
 fore the whole company, if he did not do 
 it of himself. Evert fell into a passion, 
 burst out against the Baron, and would 
 not hear of such a thing as retracting his 
 words. But Ellen took his hand, telling 
 him how all, even those who had heard 
 his words, would approve such a course, 
 and that he would be honored for it. 
 The Baroness herself would be compelled 
 to forgive him. Ellen tried to excite hia 
 vanity, so that it should induce him to 
 act according to the requirements of 
 honor, and she firjally succeeded ; he 
 conducted her down to the saloon, while 
 he considered the effect of what he was 
 forced to do. All the merry guests who 
 had been at the breakfast the day before 
 surrounded him to express their thanks 
 for the pleasant occasion ; among their 
 number were the young Baron Ernstein 
 and Uno. 
 
 " I certainly beli'eve that Count Ker- 
 ner is in the wrong," thought Baron Al- 
 fred ; " he is not likely to take back what 
 he has once said." 
 
 11 Let us see if Ellen has succeeded in 
 inducing that fool to act like an honora- 
 ble man," thought Uno. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Ochard in a loud 
 voice. " Wine sometimes tempts us in a 
 merry company to utter things which are 
 only the offspring of our heated imagina- 
 tions. I was guilty of such an error yes- 
 terday, when I spoke in a manner not at 
 all in accordance with the truth, of a 
 lady for whom I entertain the greatest 
 respect and admiration. I now there- 
 fore recall my words, and. declare that I 
 talked at random ; and I desire that 
 you, gentlemen, may consider them un- 
 said." 
 
 By nature a very good actor, Evert 
 had assumed so noble a bearing and car- 
 ried his handsome head with so much 
 spirit, that his speech made a very fa- 
 vorable impression, for e"very one regard- 
 ed his conduct as an evidence of mag-
 
 84 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 nanimity. Still, there was not one of 
 these young gentlemen who did not hold 
 to the belief that the Baroness was in 
 love with Ochard. They had too poor 
 an opinion of women in general to give 
 credence to anything but what was de- 
 rogatory to the sex. Besides, they were 
 endowed with too high an opinion of 
 their own worth to admit that Ochard's 
 boast was altogether groundless. 
 
 Three weeks had elapsed since the oc- 
 currence described above. People had 
 bathed, danced, and arranged pleasure- 
 parties. 
 
 Ellen had spent every day with Uno. 
 He was the tenderest brother, the most 
 respectful friend, and the most agreeable 
 society for the young woman. His man- 
 ifold acquirements, the freshness of his 
 feelings, his noble and uncorrupted char- 
 acter, were revealed in this daily inter- 
 course. Ellen felt happy, and she ap- 
 peared more lively and interested than 
 she was wont to be. The Baroness, who 
 resided with her, was also especially en- 
 tertained by Uno's society. Time fled 
 like a dream, and Ellen fancied, during 
 this brief period of pure and unalloyed 
 joy, that nature had become more beauti- 
 ful, that life had obtained for her a new, 
 hitherto unknown charm, and that God's 
 goodness was greater than before. Still, 
 this happy time was very short. Ellen 
 resembled a child who reposes by an 
 abyss, but does not perceive the dark 
 gulf, for the flowers which surround it. 
 She enjoyed life, thanked God most fer- 
 vently for the feeling of satisfaction that 
 filled her breast, and did not notice the 
 danger. But chance was to snatch the 
 bandage quite suddenly from her eyes 
 and put her strength of soul to a severe 
 test. 
 
 One evening, after supper, the Baron- 
 ess, Ellen, Uno, and a German doctor, 
 who was spending a few days at ***, 
 
 took a promenade to the beach. The 
 weather was clear and the wind blew 
 fresh. The Baroness and the doctor, 
 who were engaged in an animated conver- 
 sation, so hastened their steps that they 
 were soon far ahead of Ellen and Uno. 
 On reaching the shore Uno's attention 
 was fastened on an object out at sea, 
 while Ellen continued the subject they 
 had begun, without observing that his 
 answers became more and more brief. 
 Finally he stopped, saying as he stretched 
 out his hand towards the sea, 
 
 " See, Ellen, how that little boat strug- 
 gles with the waves." 
 
 Ellen's eyes followed the direction of 
 his hand. In a little boat she saw a sol- 
 itary woman, apparently old, who was 
 rowing towards the land with all her 
 power ; but the little bark seemed rather 
 to recede from the force of the wind, 
 than to advance. Sometimes the wo- 
 man leaned her face against the hands 
 which held the oars, as if she had wept 
 over her impotent efforts. 
 
 " Ah, good God ! she will certainly 
 never be able to row to land," said Ellen, 
 and followed all the motions of the little 
 boat with anxiety. 
 
 " So it looks, especially as the wind in- 
 creases." Uno looked around to see if 
 there was not some one in the vicinity 
 whom he could ask to assist the poor wo- 
 man ; but he discovered no one, only a 
 little skiff which lay swinging by the 
 strand. 
 
 " Ellen, return home, for you will not 
 be able to catch up with the Baroness. 
 I will help the old woman." While Uno 
 spoke he had sprung down to the beach 
 and into the boat. Ellen stood still. 
 " Go, Ellen, go j it blows cold," cried 
 he, and unfastened the boat ; but she 
 remained motionless. 
 
 He was soon far from land and rowing 
 rapidly towards the woman. As he ad- 
 vanced he was equally driven by the 
 waves, and Ellen followed with unshaken 
 attention all the motions of the frail
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 85 
 
 craft. She dared not breathe ; it was as 
 if her whole existence had depended on 
 the skiff's movements, so much anxiety 
 lay in the look with which she followed 
 it. The wind had increased during the 
 few moments which had elapsed since 
 Uno pushed off, so that the waves rolled 
 forward crested with foam. At last he 
 reached the old woman and with a rasli 
 leap transferred himself to her boat. 
 Then he took the oars and began to row 
 towards the shore with all his might. 
 Ellen had pressed both hands to her heart 
 to still its beating when he sprang from 
 the skiff into the boat, and she could not 
 see but what both he and the woman 
 would become the prey of the waves. It 
 was arduous work, for they had a con- 
 trary wind ; but after a half-hour's hard 
 rowing they touched the shore. Ellen 
 sprang down the slope, and when Uno 
 jumped from the boat, she reached him 
 both hands with the words, 
 
 " Merciful heavens, what fearful anx- 
 iety I have endured ! Had the boat 
 upset, my heart would have burst." 
 
 Uno seized the two hands that were 
 extended to him and faltered in a voice 
 full of emotion and passion, 
 
 " Ellen, beloved, adored Ellen, why 
 am I not allowed to die in this moment 
 of bliss ! " 
 
 Uno had once desired to be able to 
 read Ellen's heart. Now, when their 
 eyes met, when hers rested on him with 
 so enchanting an expression, he seemed 
 to see his wish realized. The two 
 looked at each other for some moments, 
 as if fearing to break the spell with 
 words. The old woman's voice close by 
 roused them. Ellen started as if she 
 had awoke from a dream, blushed, and 
 drew away her hands. Uno turned with 
 a sigh to the woman, who exhausted 
 herself in blessing him. 
 
 Directly afterwards they heard the 
 Baroness's voice ; she had turned back 
 with the German doctor when she at 
 last missed them. It blew hard, and 
 
 they took their way home. As Ellen 
 and Uno were going up the bank, he 
 said with that peculiar accent which 
 only love can bestow, " Take my arm, 
 Ellen." He bent down to catch one 
 more glance. Ellen laid her hand on 
 his arm and looked at him ; but her 
 eyes were obscured with tears. 
 
 Uno was now obliged to relate his 
 adventure to the Baroness, but not a 
 word more was exchanged between him 
 and Ellen. At parting he released her 
 hand with a lingering motion. 
 
 When Ellen had separated from the 
 Baroness and shut herself up in her 
 chamber, she fell on her knees. With 
 her hands clasped tightly and her head 
 leaning against them, she wept, wept 
 from the depth of her heart, while with 
 fervent devotion she prayed to God for 
 strength to rightly make up the account 
 with herself and to gain the victory over 
 her weak, rebellious heart. 
 
 How mmch had not these hours which 
 had passed since she left home contained 
 for her ! What a fearful light had not 
 the events at the strand thrown over 
 her inner being and the feelings she 
 cherished for Uno ! While with bound- 
 less anxiety she followed the motions of 
 the boat, it had become clear to her that 
 the frail bark bore a man who was so 
 dear to her heart that she would will- 
 ingly have saved his life with the sacri- 
 fice of her own. And then when he 
 stood there before her, when she again, 
 met his glance, again felt her hands 
 clasped in his, how thankful to God, how 
 unspeakably happy had she not been ! 
 This anguish, this joy, seemed to say to 
 her with a merciless voice, "You love 
 him." 
 
 Ellen could have sunk into the dust 
 at this thought. She, who had only 
 striven toward one aim, that of conscien- 
 tiously fulfilling her duty to her hus- 
 band, was now in her heart a faithless 
 wife. None but those who revere duty 
 as deeply as she did can understand her
 
 86 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 grief nnd remorse when she knelt before 
 Cod and wept over herself. 
 
 " Shall everything then fail me ! " she 
 sobbed, " even my own heart ] Domes- 
 tic happiness, my hutband's love, all 
 is denied me ; shall I also lose respect for 
 myself]" 
 
 She did not try to excuse herself to her 
 accusing conscience by any false reason- 
 ing. She did not draw up her husband's 
 faults as an apology for herself. She 
 did not reproach him for having thought- 
 lessly abandoned her to danger. She 
 did not think of his indifference to ex- 
 tenuate her own fault. No, she accused 
 no one but herself. With her thoughts 
 fastened only on her own weakness, she 
 made up the account with herself ; and 
 without being tempted for a single mo- 
 ment by the infatuating delusion that 
 her silent, apparently guiltless love hurt 
 nobody, she resolved to fly a danger 
 which she felt that her heart was not 
 strong enough to resist. Not an instant's 
 happiness would she purchase at the 
 expense of her duty. A felicity at this 
 price would have been changed to an 
 eternally gnawing remorse. 
 
 The next day Ellen was not seen at 
 the baths. Uno had presented himself 
 to inquire after her health, while he con- 
 stantly repeated to himself, 
 
 " I must from her own lips hear the 
 words, ' I love you,' and then, then I 
 will fly far hence." 
 
 When he came to Ellen's abode, Ingrid 
 told him that her mistress was ill. The 
 physician said that she had taken cold. 
 
 A week elapsed, during 'which Ellen 
 was obliged to keep within doors. 
 
 One Sunday morning the Baroness in- 
 formed Uno that Ellen was better, and 
 that she would in the afternoon be pres- 
 ent at the coffee-party to which one of 
 the ladies had invited the whole com- 
 pany. 
 
 When Ellen and the Baroness stepped 
 out to go to the saloon, Uno came to- 
 wards them. He only saw Ellen. With 
 an animation which reflected all that his 
 heart felt, he went to her and said, aa 
 he greeted her with an expression of ad- 
 miration, joy, love, and respect, 
 
 " I shall never forgive myself for hav- 
 ing been the cause of your indisposition, 
 and yet I cannot regret an event which 
 afforded me " 
 
 "An opportunity to help a creature 
 who without you would have been lost," 
 fell in Ellen in a somewhat unsteady 
 voice. 
 
 Uno walked a moment in silence by 
 her side ; then he began to talk on in- 
 different subjects with an expression of 
 gladness which was very rare with 
 him. 
 
 After drinking coffee in the saloon, the 
 party had a little music, and then spread 
 themselves in small groups in the park. 
 Ellen, who was fatigued and disposed to 
 be quiet, had seated herself on one of the 
 small sofas in the saloon. Uno ap- 
 proached her. 
 
 " So pale and so sad 1 I for my part 
 know no bounds to my joy at seeing you 
 again." 
 
 Ellen shuddered and would have stifled 
 the violent beating of her heart. 
 
 "During the days in which I have 
 been separated from you, Ellen, but one 
 memory has followed me, that of the 
 moment when yon met me on the beach. 
 Ellen, when shall that moment come 
 again 1 " 
 
 " Never ! " whispered she. t 
 
 " You cannot be so cruel. Look at 
 me, Ellen, and say that the love which 
 has dwelt yi the depths of my heart for 
 so many years deserves some consolation. 
 Hear me, Ellen. I shall not leave you 
 until your lips have confirmed what your 
 look told me. I must hear from you 
 three words, three words." 
 
 " Hush, Uno ! " She rose and offered 
 him her hand, as she said with a sorrow-
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 87 
 
 ful smile, " To-morrow I will explain 
 myself." With this she went away. 
 
 " To-morrow," said Uno exultingly, 
 "to-morrow!" 
 
 The morning came with a sky so gray 
 and a fog so thick, that one fancied the 
 very atmosphere breathed sorrow. But 
 to Uno this gray sky seemed clear and 
 smiling, this air sweet and warm, for he 
 awoke with the hope of having his high- 
 est desire fulfilled. How it would be 
 afterwards, he did not think. The ex- 
 pected explanation was all to him. He 
 had just begun to dress himself, when 
 the servant handed him a letter. The 
 address told him from whom it was. 
 
 He opened it and read : 
 
 " Once you said, when you offered me 
 your friendship : ' You shall never have 
 cause to regret the friendship which you 
 now give me.' Have you kept this prom- 
 ise ? Ought I not now bitterly to de- 
 plore the moment when we became 
 friends 1 Lay your hand on your own 
 upright heart and answer the question. 
 
 "At another time you said, 'It has 
 often pained me when I reflected that 
 you could believe me capable of so des- 
 picable an act as to speak to a married 
 woman of love.' .You have now been 
 guilty of such an act. 
 
 " My husband intrusted his wife to 
 you. Will you, with your stern ideas 
 of honor, betray this trust 1 The Uno 
 who was my friend, who stood high in 
 my esteem, will not be guilty of such a 
 crime. He will revere the woman who 
 rendered him her respect, her confidence, 
 and her friendship. Passion will never 
 tempt him to forget what he owes his 
 own honor, the absent husband, and the 
 married woman. 
 
 " Once you said, ' Ellen, you are an 
 admirable wife ; I do not wish to live to 
 the day when I find you otherwise.' And 
 yet you begged me yesterday to acknowl- 
 edge that I loved you, that my heart had 
 failed of its duty and betrayed the mate 
 
 to whom I swore eternal faith at the 
 altar. If I fulfilled your prayer, should 
 I then be an admirable wife? No, I 
 should be a contemptible perjurer, who 
 trampled respect for her duty under her 
 feet, and no time and no conditions 
 would have been able to efface this stain 
 upon my life. Now I have said all that 
 I have to say ; for the rest, when you 
 have awakened from the delirium which 
 misled you, your own heart will tell you 
 what you have come near forgetting. 
 
 " One single prayer has Ellen to her 
 friend Uuo, and she knows that he will 
 fulfil it. Do not try to see me for sev- 
 eral days. Take a trip to X or any 
 
 other place around here, or keep within 
 doors. This banishment or imprison- 
 ment shall be short, but Ellen will feel 
 grateful for such a compliance with her 
 request. 
 
 " And now farewell ! The memory of 
 friend Uno shall always be faithfully pre- 
 served by 
 
 " ELLEN." 
 
 Uno sat motionless a long time; a 
 tear shone in his eye, and he carried 
 Ellen's letter to his lips. 
 
 " 0, how could I for a moment think 
 that she should act otherwise, noble; 
 high-minded woman ! May God preserve 
 me from wishing to stain your snow- 
 white wings ! " He again read through 
 this letter, so mild and yet so earnest. 
 Then he wrote : 
 
 " Thanks, angel ! I shall ever remem- 
 ber you as the noblest woman I have 
 known. I will obey you and remain in 
 my room until Ellen releases me from 
 captivity. Forget everything which bears 
 witness that I have forgotten the prom- 
 ise I gave, to be an honest and faith- 
 ful friend. 
 
 "But I also have a prayer to Ellen, the 
 only one which I shall ever address to 
 her : sing this evening the ballad which 
 you sang at Lb'da ; sing it after all have 
 retired and before you close your win-
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 dows. Ellen, this is all that I will ask 
 of you in this life ! Show this single 
 proof of good-will to your friend 
 
 " UNO." 
 
 In the afternoon the heavens cleared, 
 the sun sank in a bed of purple ; the 
 queen of night, with her invisible mantle 
 and starry diadem, had embraced the 
 earth, upon which everything was now 
 still and quiet. All seemed to be deep in 
 slumber at ***, only a solitary being 
 stood leaning motionless against a tree 
 by the house where Ellen and the Bar- 
 oness resided, and where the windows 
 still stood open. He was pale, this lone- 
 ly figure, who with an expression of an- 
 guish seemed to be waiting for something. 
 Suddenly the silence was broken by a 
 song from Ellen's dwelling. It was like 
 a spirit whisper from a better world. 
 The invisible singer sang each verse 
 twice, and "the song, it flew over the 
 waves," and everything again became 
 silent both within and without the iso- 
 lated house. 
 
 Two days afterwards Uno received the 
 following note : 
 
 " Uno, you are free ; your captivity has 
 ceased, I am now gone. I know that you 
 will not see me again until you can do it 
 with perfect calmness. In two days I 
 shall be with my husband. Your friend, 
 
 "ELLEN." 
 
 " Gone, gone ! " exclaimed Uno spring- 
 ing up. " I know that you will not see 
 me again, until you can do it calmly," 
 repeated he. "0 Ellen, Ellen ! the poor 
 happiness of seeing you ought still to 
 have been granted me ! " 
 
 One beautiful morning towards the 
 d of July, two days after Uno had re- 
 
 ceived the above-mentioned note, Assess- 
 or Ochard stood tying his cravat before 
 the glass. He tied it certainly for the 
 twentieth time, for he could not get it 
 to suit him. Just as he had succeeded 
 in his efforts, and with a self-satisfied 
 look fastened his vest, the door-curtains 
 were lifted and a tastefully attired lady 
 entered. Evert, who in the glass saw a 
 lady come in, turned round, and ex- 
 claimed when his eyes fell on her face, 
 
 " Ellen ! Good God, what does this 
 mean 1 " 
 
 She hastened to her husband, and 
 reached out her arms to him. 
 
 " Yes, it is Ellen, who was obliged to 
 return to you." 
 
 " You have thus longed for me, is it 
 not so 1 " said Evert, and embraced his 
 wife very carefully, so as not to wrinkle 
 his shirt-bosom. " But, my dear Ellen, 
 however flattering it may be to have 
 you long for me so ardently, I am still 
 very sorry that you left *** in this pre- 
 cipitate way. What will people say 
 about so sudden a departure? They 
 will try to guess the cause, and you ex- 
 pose us both to a multitude of construc- 
 tions which it would have been wiser of 
 you to avoid by remaining till the end 
 of the season." 
 
 " Ah, Evert, believe me when I assure 
 you with my hand on my heart, that I 
 neither would nor could stay." 
 
 There was something so mild and yet 
 sad in Ellen's voice that it engaged his 
 attention. He looked at the clock. 
 
 " It is very agreeable for me to find 
 that I am so dear to you, and I shall 
 with the greatest pleasure, when I return, 
 hear you relate how tedious it was with- 
 out me, but at present I am a little 
 pressed for time." 
 
 Ellen had taken off her hat and man- 
 tle and seated herself on a little sofa. 
 She reached her hand to her husband. 
 
 " Come and sit here with me, Evert. 
 I shall be contented again, if I only see 
 that you like me a little bit."
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 89 
 
 Evert seated himself, kissed Ellen on 
 the brow, and said, 
 
 " But, my beloved wife, I am obliged 
 
 to be at Counsellor D 's at eleven 
 
 o'clock, so that we have not much m/?re 
 than half an hour, consequently the ex- 
 change of tender sentiments must be 
 brief. I should not like to present my- 
 self to the Counsellor with any traces of 
 emotion, but with a calmness and an assur- 
 ance which are in harmony with the pros- 
 pects to which I am entitled. Well, 
 have you had a pleasant time ? Your 
 letters seemed to show that this was the 
 case. I have had a great deal to do ; 
 but I thought that the government, at 
 the close of the Diet, would reward my 
 services. Apropos, you did not travel 
 alone ] I suppose Uno has kept you 
 company 1 " 
 
 "No, he remained. I travelled with 
 Ingrid." 
 
 " That was very inconsiderate. You 
 ought to have informed me of your 
 coming, so that I could have sent 
 the carriage to meet you. Do you 
 know, Ellen, your journey here is di- 
 rectly contrary to general custom, and I 
 predict that people will make remarks 
 about it. You ought to make it a rule 
 never to act without first asking my 
 advice." 
 
 " Evert," said Ellen seriously, laying 
 her hand on his arm, " it was no longer 
 a question of what people would say ; it 
 was necessary for me to see you again 
 and in your presence come into closer 
 relations with holy duties." 
 
 " My dear Ellen, you are very ro- 
 mantic, and that to the great detriment 
 of your reputation as a woman of the 
 world. The duty which we ought in the 
 first place to observe is to deport our- 
 selves in such a way that we do not give 
 society occasion to blame our actions. 
 Then come the private duties. There- 
 fore I tell you once more, that neither 
 love, longing, or anything whatsoever 
 ought to have induced you to travel here 
 
 post-haste, without at least having Uno 
 accompany you as a protector." 
 
 " But, has it never occurred to you 
 that there might be danger for your wife 
 in commissioning a young man to be her 
 constant attendant ] " 
 
 " Bah, my dear, I have calculated it 
 all. I am a born diplomat. I should 
 not be against it at all if Uno took a 
 lively fancy to you. When a man is 
 governed by a passion he is always the 
 slave of the one who excited this passion, 
 and Uno would in this way serve my in- 
 terests blindly by doing everything that 
 you desired." 
 
 "Evert, Evert! do you not consider 
 the danger to which you expose me ? " 
 
 " Not at all. I am not romantic, 
 neither do I see danger where none ex- 
 ists. Now, if you were also a little inter- 
 ested in him Eh bien, it would be of no 
 consequence, as you once for all love me 
 and could certainly never have the bad 
 taste to prefer a man of his appearance. 
 Such a lack of discernment I would never 
 forgive you. Now I think it excellent 
 that he, a noble, wealthy, and courted 
 young man is the first to render my wife 
 homage. Besides it is the acquaintance 
 with him and his brother-in-law upon 
 which I count in order to arrive rapidly 
 at distinction ; and I confess that you 
 would have done me a far greater service 
 if you had remained, with or without the 
 danger of captivating his heart, than by 
 going away from him in that way, and 
 perhaps through this gaining me an en- 
 emy in one who I hoped would favor my 
 plans." 
 
 "Evert, Evert, is this all that you 
 have to say to me 1 " said Ellen, sobbing. 
 
 " My dear Ellen, it seems to me that 
 you ought to be satisfied when I assure 
 you that I feel flattered by your affection, 
 although I desire that you may be less 
 romantic." Evert kissed her and then 
 looked at the clock. " I must now leave 
 you. Efface the traces of your tears, 
 and let us no longer speak of this
 
 90 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 matter. We will sec each other again." 
 He kissed his hand to her and left. 
 When he stepped into his carriage he 
 thought, 
 
 " I am only afraid that Ellen, fright- 
 ened by some tender words from Uno, 
 has offended him. The result of this 
 may be that I miss the star." 
 
 " God ! thou wilt not abandon me, 
 if all others fail ! " sighed Ellen with 
 clasped hands. 
 
 THE MOTHER. 
 
 THREE YEARS LATER. 
 
 In Assessor Ochard's elegant bed- 
 chamber one November afternoon, Ellen 
 sat beside a willow cradle which she 
 gently set in motion. She leaned her 
 head on her hand and regarded the little 
 sleeping boy with an expression of such 
 pure and unmixed happiness, such 
 boundless love, that one could read 
 plainly in her face that she had now 
 obtained an object upon which she fas- 
 tened all her feelings, thoughts, and 
 dreams. This face no longer bore traces 
 of the unquiet and formless dreams, or 
 the passive indifference which had for- 
 merly characterized it. It reflected a soul 
 which had ripened to the clearly defined 
 knowledge that it had a sacred and 
 precious destiny to fulfil. It was evident 
 that her heart no longer flagged from 
 weariness and longing, but with loud, 
 fresh beats filled her breast with the 
 happy consciousness of possessing a be- 
 ing to love and live for. She did not 
 receive the dawning day with a listless 
 mind : she knew that every moment of 
 her life was indispensable to this child, 
 who was her whole world. 
 
 There is in the love of a mother some- 
 thing so pure, so wholly disinterested, 
 that it is like a divine spark in the 
 human heart placed in the midst of its 
 miserable and selfish desires. With what 
 ineffable tenderness does not the mother 
 
 press her child to her heart ! How com- 
 pletely does she not forget her own need 
 of shelter and protection, in protecting 
 and sheltering the little tender being 
 which rests upon her breast ! How 
 strong is she not in her sacrifices, how 
 unwearied in her efforts and her care ! 
 How patiently does she not suffer and 
 struggle for her child's joy and future 
 happiness ! She lays all calculation aside 
 when these are concerned. What does 
 it signify to a mother what she suffers, 
 if she can only purchase freedom from 
 suffering for her child ? And this love, 
 so boundless and so self-denying, what 
 does it obtain in return 1 Does the moth- 
 er become the most precious object of the 
 grown-up man or woman's affection ] No. 
 When the child ripens to maturity, the 
 thought of the mother steps back for 
 other feelings and interests which take 
 up the young heart and mind ; and while 
 her love is eternally the same, she must 
 be thankful to destiny if it allows her to 
 occupy the second or third place in the 
 heart of the grown-up child. If she is a 
 wise mother who recollects her own 
 youth, then she will be satisfied and 
 contented with this state of things, with- 
 out demanding more than can be given. 
 Ah ! how soon are not her watch ings, 
 her tears, and her care forgotten when 
 they are no longer needed, and how often 
 does it not happen that she sees herself 
 neglected by the same child for whom 
 she would without hesitation have sacri- 
 ficed her life ! 
 
 While Ellen rocked her little, scarcely 
 two-years-old boy to sleep, and with lov- 
 ing tenderness contemplated the sweet, 
 blooming face, the door-curtains were 
 lifted and Evert entered. When he saw 
 his wife sitting by the cradle he frowned, 
 and his countenance, cloudy before, be- 
 came at this sight still more so. 
 
 "Is there no one who can rock the 
 child, without your making yourself a 
 child's nurse 1 I must say, it has begun 
 to be very pleasant ; my house is changed
 
 THE WIFE OF A YAIN MAN. 
 
 91 
 
 into a great nursery, and it would not 
 surprise me in the least if, some fine day, 
 I saw you promenading in the street 
 with the child in your arms. It is a 
 positive fact that you have not the slight- 
 est discrimination ; you follow your fancy 
 blindly, without inquiring where it leads." 
 
 "Dear Evert, is it not our child to 
 whose care I devote my life, and you, 
 surely do not wish me to neglect itl 
 You yourself think so much of the boy." 
 ' " Yes, with the difference, that I love 
 my child with reason, and not, like you, 
 in a silly way. But leave this, at least 
 for the present ; I will take up the sub- 
 ject again directly ; but I desire you to 
 charge the nurse to rock the boy, so that 
 I may have the pleasure of talking with 
 you without running the risk of being 
 interrupted by the child's screams or by 
 coming and going. Will you therefore 
 step into the cabinet 1 " 
 
 Evert went to the bell-cord, pulled it 
 violently, and when Ingrid entered he 
 said in a commanding tone, 
 
 " I do not wish my wife to be obliged 
 to act as child's nurse, and therefore I 
 will ask mamsell to tell the nurse to stay 
 with the child." With this he left the 
 room. 
 
 Ellen rose, fastened another look full 
 of indescribable tenderness on the sleep- 
 ing babe, then nodded to Ingrid and 
 went into the cabinet, where she found 
 her husband sitting on the sofa. She 
 went to him with a smile and passed her 
 hand caressingly over his curly hair, 
 saying, - 
 
 " Well, here I am. Are you going to 
 scold me still more 1 I hope you will 
 not ; I feel so happy in the moments 
 when I am allowed to be with my child." 
 
 "Dear Ellen, forbear from caressing 
 me, your caresses are of no use. You 
 sacrifice me just as soon to your egotism, 
 and if you are happy, then I congratu- 
 late you. As far as I am concerned, I 
 cannot say the same." 
 
 " Evert, you are now bitter." 
 
 " Possibly ; but when one is unhappy, 
 as I' am, he cannot always suppress his 
 feelings and look glad and smiling." He 
 sighed. 
 
 " Has anything unpleasant occurred ? " 
 " Unpleasant ] Why, I have had noth- 
 ing else ever since you took that silly 
 notion to play the hermit, only for the 
 sake of tending the child and never hav- 
 ing it out of your sight. What shall I 
 call your behavior 1 You, a rich woman, 
 the wife of a man whose merits have 
 raised him in the community to an 
 equality with noblemen, you who can 
 afford to pay for things, you from some 
 romantic whim or other undertake 
 to nurse your child yourself, to withdraw 
 from society and change our house into 
 a cloister. What do you suppose people 
 will think of all this 1 They will say 
 that I have not sufficient love for you to 
 procure a nurse ; that from meanness, 
 from indifference, and God knows what, I 
 allow you to drag around with the child. 
 How many women of wealth and position 
 do you know who make themselves 
 nurses ? I think you will have difficulty 
 to find half a dozen, and not a single one 
 with your more weighty interests, as na- 
 ture has made you a poetess ! But what 
 do you care for an illustrious name or 
 the renown of a genius 1 Nothing at all. 
 You live for your fixed ideas, and among 
 these is the notion that you must be tied 
 to the boy. You tear down, in your 
 simple comprehension of life, all that I 
 have done to have you regarded as a wo- 
 man of genius, and you, who rose like a 
 star, now fall quite suddenly to the 
 level of a child's nurse." Evert stopped 
 for breath. Ellen said nothing. " But 
 now I must declare emphatically that I 
 am tired of this performance, and intend 
 to resume our former manner of life, as 
 I think of taking part in the boy's bring- 
 ing up. Does it seem to you, for example, 
 that he is dressed like a rich man's child] 
 I wish the boy to be so dressed as to 
 look engaging. Besides, it is my desire
 
 92 
 
 THE WIFE OP A VAIN MAN. 
 
 that we have a reception once a week, 
 and parties as before. I wish you to 
 show yourself again in society, and to 
 divide your time somewhat between it 
 and the child." 
 
 "Can you actually say, Evert, that I 
 do not? How glad and happy I am, 
 when you are sometimes at home with 
 us, when 
 
 " Allow me to interrupt you. We do 
 not live on your happiness and content- 
 ment alone, but we have also duties to- 
 wards the world, and I find no reason 
 why a man should be obliged to neglect 
 these for the sake of his wife and child. 
 You have now heard my will, and I hope 
 that you will conform yourself to it." 
 
 "I shall endeavor to unite my duty 
 toward my home with your desire, but 
 never shall I, for any price in the world, 
 neglect our child. I am a mother, and 
 God has intrusted to my care a child, 
 who will some day become a man." 
 
 "And I am certainly not likely to ask 
 you to forget your duty as a mother ; 
 but, to begin with, I must tell you that 
 I have invited a few friends here this 
 evening, and Uno among them. I de- 
 sire you to be particularly polite to him, 
 for I need him." 
 
 " Do you need him any longer 1 " 
 
 " Yes, I need his influence and his rep- 
 utation as a wealthy man, especially now, 
 as I am seeking an office and -intend to 
 take up a loan of ten thousand riks 
 thalers, and that from a man who places 
 value on Uno's opinion, and who will 
 certainly inquire of him about me." 
 
 "Are you obliged to borrow? You 
 are surely jesting." 
 
 " Will you be so good as to look at me 
 and see if I am jesting ? " 
 
 " But are we then no longer rich ? " 
 
 " yes, you are, my dear ; but alas, 
 not I," answered Evert bitterly. "Or 
 do you actually think that one hundred 
 thousand riks thalers is a bottomless 
 gold mine, when one, like me, is obliged 
 to live in the world and keep up appear- 
 
 ances? You, with your imaginative 
 mind, may think that it does not cost 
 anything to live, to keep a carriage and 
 horses and the like, which my position 
 demands. If one has then the misfortune 
 to have some bachelor debts to pay, and 
 besides this is obliged to deduct from the 
 capital what an establishment such as 
 ours costs, you can easily see that one 
 hundred thousand riks thalers is no in- 
 exhaustible treasure." 
 
 "But Evert," replied Ellen, "rather 
 than to borrow in this way and through 
 this place yourself under obligation, you 
 could give a mortgage on the house." 
 
 " Will you show me the goodness nofc 
 to mingle in my affairs ? Or do you im- 
 agine that you can attend to them better 
 than I ? For the rest I will not mort- 
 gage the house. In short, I must take 
 up this loan ; and I intend, in case the 
 king does not give me the office which I 
 am now seeking, to employ a part of 
 this sum for the publishing of an opposi- 
 tion paper. Everything will depend up- 
 on my nomination." 
 
 " Evert, what do you say ? Will you, 
 who have received so many proofs of 
 favor from the king, and been so richly 
 rewarded for all that you have done, 
 will you, an office-holder, a Knight of the 
 North Star, a conservative, become a 
 turncoat and attack the same views 
 which you formerly defended? That 
 would be ungrateful and unworthy a 
 man of honor." 
 
 " My dear, the time of kings is past. 
 The February revolution has made them 
 unpopular, eo that one is entirely out of 
 the fashion if he is a royalist. They 
 must therefore see to it that they sup- 
 port those who served with zeal and 
 faithfulness ; for in any other event I 
 shall be compelled to pay homage to the 
 revolutionary principles. To appear as 
 their advocate would give me greater 
 popularity than I should ever be able to 
 reap in the service of conservatism." 
 
 "A man of honor does not serve a
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 93 
 
 cause from calculation, but from convic- 
 tion, and I neither can nor will think so 
 meanly of you as to suppose that for the 
 sake of winning popularity or any dis- 
 tinction in the world, you would wish to 
 sell yours, or betray the cause which you 
 defended, and thus bargain with your 
 duty and your conscience." 
 
 " My dear, you do not understand that 
 matter ; I intend in all cases to act as I 
 please, and only ask you to comply with 
 my wishes ; to begin with, in regard to 
 Uno." 
 
 "But it is just with regard to him 
 that I wish you to change your plan. 
 Why do you need his influence 1 If you 
 are entitled to the appointment which you 
 wish to obtain, you can be very sure that 
 you will be nominated, without the need 
 of his co-operation. Ah ! Evert, it pains 
 me to think that you, a man of merit, 
 can be obliged to cringe to those in high 
 places in order to gain a promotion to 
 which your deserts ought to entitle you. 
 As far as the loan is concerned, I hope it 
 will be unnecessary ; for as you know,. I 
 have always desired that you should re- 
 ceive the interest of the capital which 
 my mother left solely at my disposal. 
 Hitherto you have refused, upon the 
 ground that you did not wish to have 
 anything of which you had been de- 
 prived. I am likely, in consequence of 
 this, to have a no inconsiderable residue 
 of the interest remaining with merchant 
 D . At one time I intended this lit- 
 tle amount as a fund for a children's 
 home ; but now I desire and entreat you 
 to dispose of it, and hereafter to collect 
 the interest which ought to be eventually 
 ours." 
 
 " As far as your savings are concerned, 
 I have already drawn them, because I 
 was in need of money at our arrival in 
 the city. I must consequently borrow 
 from the person I mentioned ; I need 
 Uno, and it is of importance to me that 
 no one has any suspicion that I am in want 
 of money. Have you understood me ? " 
 
 " But this money must be paid back 
 some time 1 ?" 
 
 " Of course, and I also intend to do it ; 
 although I am at present in need, it does 
 not prove that I am ruined. The rich- 
 est man, my dear Ellen, is sometimes 
 obliged to borrow." 
 
 " Why not rather turn to Uncle Ru- 
 bens or to Kerner ? " 
 
 " Because I am not disposed to hear 
 any remarks. But I do not know why 
 we continue this conversation. You 
 have heard my desire : comply with it." 
 
 " One word more," said Ellen with an- 
 guish. "I will sell all my trinkets, if 
 you will only not make debts ; for my 
 reason tells me that if one begins to so- 
 licit credit, it ends ill." 
 
 " Do you mean to irritate me, to 
 wound and humiliate me ] Now listen 
 once for all to what I say : I will not 
 hear of any retrenchments in our way of 
 life ; nothing in your attire or your hab- 
 its must be changed. You are to con- 
 tinue a rich man's wife. Do you now 
 understand that I never can, never shall, 
 live otherwise than I have hitherto done 1 
 I wish people to see yoxi with these jew- 
 els which excited so much envy and ad- 
 miration, and I hope that I shall never 
 be obliged to give this up. Spare me all 
 further talk on this disagreeable subject. 
 Apropos, I desire you, as formerly, to col- 
 lect the income from your property, so 
 that no one may know that we use it in 
 common ; but you can then give me the 
 money, and in that way it will all be ar- 
 ranged right. I really think that I can 
 manage that income better than you, so 
 that it will give an added lustre to our 
 establishment. On Monday we are to 
 have a large party." Evert went out. 
 
 " With borrowed money," murmured 
 Ellen. " One day his vanity will per- 
 haps be our ruin." She sighed deeply. 
 "All must be consumed then to shine 
 among a crowd of fools, who, when mis- 
 fortune knocks at the door, will fly us. 
 But I feel that I shall now have the
 
 94 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 strength to save my child's father from 
 the abyss to which his heedless vanity 
 will sooner or later lead us." 
 
 In the evening the rooms were lighted, 
 and Ellen had just stepped into the sa- 
 loon, when at the same moment a young 
 man was seen at one of the doors. She 
 stopped a second in the middle of the 
 floor, but took some steps directly to- 
 wards the guest who advanced to meet 
 her. Both were pale. It was over three 
 years since they had seen each other. 
 Three years ! How different Ellen now 
 was ! How changed did life appear ! 
 What a treasure of tenderness and soul 
 strength had been developed in her since 
 then ! And yet the recollection of their 
 last conversation stood forth so vividly 
 in her mind. How many bitter struggles 
 had she not fought since then, and what 
 a rich reward had God not given her for 
 going victorious from the strife ? Did 
 Uno read in her face the higher degree 
 of growth and inner peace which she had 
 attained 1 So it seemed ; for there was 
 an expression of grief, and yet of satis- 
 faction in the look which he fastened 
 upon hei\ He seized the extended hand, 
 and said with deep earnestness, 
 
 " ' Before Uno can meet Ellen with 
 calmness, he must not try to see her.' 
 These were your last words to me. I 
 have preserved them in my memory, 
 guarded them in my heart, and obeyed 
 you. With a calm, deep, earnest friend- 
 ship, free from any shade of passion, I 
 again see }'ou, else I should never have 
 crossed your threshold." 
 
 " Thanks ! I knew that Uno was 
 noble in thought and feeling." 
 
 Evert's entrance and the arrival of 
 several guests interrupted the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 The gentlemen chatted and played 
 cards. Ellen was an extremely lovely 
 hostess. The occasional dreaminess and 
 abstraction was now gone. A great calm 
 rested over her whole being. She no 
 longer fell into transports, but every 
 
 word evinced a trusting and discerning 
 mind, while her conversation breathed 
 genius and superiority, but a superiority 
 which was in no way unbecoming to the 
 woman. 
 
 Several of the gentlemen had gathered 
 around her, and among them President 
 S***. They were talking about wo- 
 man's minority, and all the more or less 
 exalted propositions to emancipate her, 
 which constituted the subject of most 
 of the conversation and writing of the 
 time. 
 
 " So richly endowed a woman as you 
 must naturally be of the opinion that 
 woman ought to become of age in Swe- 
 den, as well as in France and other 
 countries 1 " said the President. 
 
 " I really dare not express myself on 
 the subject," answered Ellen, smiling, 
 " for I might seem to be entirely mis- 
 taken in the worth of my sex. But I 
 certainly think that woman's physical 
 and spiritual nature is such that she 
 must absolutely have a support in man. 
 What is more, I do not consider her 
 sufficiently grown to step out from her 
 condition of minority, for her education, 
 as it is now conducted, is not calculated 
 to develop her mental powers so that she 
 can manage her property or take care of 
 herself alone. What are we women at 
 present but fine dolls in society ; or when 
 we do not have fortune, simply cooks 
 and child's nurses ? But we are not 
 educators and housewives." 
 
 " But how remedy this lack ? " said 
 Uno. 
 
 " It is hard to remedy, just for the 
 reason that woman's especial education 
 ought to start from the family life, and 
 not from the schools." 
 
 " Then you do not think that public 
 schools would contribute to her develop- 
 ment 1 " 
 
 " Yes, to the intellectual very essen- 
 tially, but not to the moral. In the 
 latter the mother alone plays the chief 
 part. She is to sow the seeds of the
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 95 
 
 good in the child's heart ; she is to 
 teach her daughter by example in the 
 home to be devoted and self-sacrificing. 
 No instruction at school is able to devel- 
 op a girl's faculty for domestic duties, so 
 that she may become a good wife, a 
 tender and judicious mother. That is 
 something which she must take with her 
 from the home, which must stand ob- 
 jectively before her from childhood and 
 follow her through her whole life." 
 
 " You thus consider it unnecessary to 
 give woman any higher intellectual edu- 
 cation 1 " 
 
 *' Not at all. The cultivation of the 
 intellect is essential to her higher soul 
 development, as feeling, when not led by 
 the reason, is only a blind instinct. Be- 
 sides, how important it is, so to cultivate 
 her understanding that, with discernment 
 and a clear consciousness of her high 
 destiny, she may be able to fulfil it ; but 
 the cold reason alone cannot create any 
 devoted wife or loving mother. There- 
 fore the education which proceeds from 
 the home is the most important.' 1 
 
 " So you do not wish woman to be- 
 come of age ? " 
 
 " Yes, as a thinking and free being 
 she is entitled to it ; but ehe ought to 
 be so educated, that her increased priv- 
 ileges do not become a source of misfor- 
 tune instead of freedom and happiness ; 
 this education she does not receive now. 
 She is brought up for the condition of a 
 minor, and all her habits obtain such a 
 direction that she neither can be nor 
 ought to be regarded as a free being. 
 The only aim has been to teach girls 
 some accomplishments with which they 
 could shine. That they might one day 
 be obliged to think for themselves, to 
 manage their affairs or have a plan for 
 life, was something which never came in 
 question." 
 
 " It is strange to hear a woman express 
 herself in this way." 
 
 " Why so 1 All depends upon whether 
 we still preserve our illusions, instead of 
 
 taking experience as a teacher. At my 
 age one has left the former and entered 
 the school of the latter." 
 
 One morning a few days after this 
 conversation, Ellen stood in the saloon 
 with her little boy in her arms and let 
 him look at his father's portrait, while 
 she tried to make him comprehend that 
 it was "papa." 
 
 The door of the anteroom opened and 
 a servant said, 
 
 " Please walk in, Herr Count ; the As- 
 sessor will be at leisure directly as soon 
 as Baron H leaves him." 
 
 Ellen turned towards the door ; it was 
 Uno. When he saw Ellen with the boy 
 in her arms, there was a singular light 
 in his eyes ; but he made a violent effort 
 and succeeded in repressing his emotion. 
 He advanced with apparent calmness to 
 greet her, while she put her little boy 
 down on the floor. The boy made a bow 
 and said something which was meant for 
 " good morning." 
 
 Uno lifted the child up, kissed him, 
 and asked, 
 
 " What is your name 1 " 
 
 " Eon," was the answer. 
 
 " Elon," said Ellen. She took her little 
 boy by the hand and asked Uno to step 
 into the other room, where she seated 
 herself on a sofa, with the child in her 
 lap. 
 
 "It is the general complaint that you 
 have deprived society of its brightest or- 
 nament when 3 T ou are missing. What 
 has been able to induce one who is really 
 entitled to be regretted, so suddenly to 
 abandon the scene of her triumphs 1 " 
 
 " And can you ask that ? " said Ellen, 
 smiling. " I should think that the 
 question was \innecessary when I have 
 the reason of my absence in my lap." 
 
 " Do you feel no regret for those 
 pleasures which you embraced before 
 with so much interest 1 "
 
 96 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 " How could 1 1 What value do they 
 possess iu comparison with the joy which 
 my child gives me 1 " 
 
 " That child then constitutes your 
 whole world 1 ?" 
 
 "No, half. My husband constitutes 
 the first half of it." 
 . t " These two are thus all to you ? " 
 I " Yes. Ought they not to be 1 " 
 ! " You are right, Ellen, and you will 
 surely be as good a mother as you are a 
 wife." 
 
 " I should like to be both, but fear 
 that it stops only at the desire." 
 
 Evert entered, and when he saw his 
 wife with the child in her arms, he said 
 to Uno as he smiled sourly, 
 
 " Ellen is determined to play the part 
 of child's nurse, although I have warned 
 her in the tenderest manner against the 
 over-exertion ; but my prayers now as 
 always have no effect upon her." 
 
 " I do not over-exert myself," replied 
 Ellen with so mild and loving an expres- 
 sion, that Uno thought, 
 
 " His place would be to kneel at her 
 feet. What a treasure he possesses in 
 this wife ! " 
 
 Evert's thought did not by any means 
 go in the same direction. He was pro- 
 voked at Ellen for sitting with the child 
 in her lap like any burgher wife, when 
 he wished her to appear in every respect 
 as the type of an aristocratic lady. Be- 
 sides he wished Uno to admire his love 
 and tenderness to her, and therefore he 
 resumed, 
 
 " Ah ! my dear, yoxi exert yourself too 
 much, with your delicate health and sen- 
 sitive nerves." 
 
 " 0, I am young, strong, and healthy," 
 said Ellen, pressing the boy to her heart. 
 " Besides, you are so careful lest I should 
 tax my strength too much, that, with the 
 best intentions, I cannot content you." 
 She gave him her hand kindly and left 
 the room. 
 
 Her last words dissipated slightly the 
 cloud of displeasure which had for a mo- 
 
 ment rested on Evert's brow. He smiled 
 and said, 
 
 " It always goes in just this way. I 
 try to be stern, but I am conquered by a 
 smile." 
 
 " And who would not be conquered by 
 a mother who loves her child 1 ?" said 
 Uno. " I scarcely know anything more 
 beautiful. I am seized with reverence 
 at the sight." 
 
 " So is it also with me," said Evert ; 
 and throwing a glance in the mirror, he 
 gave his face an interesting expression. 
 
 The amusements of the winter season 
 were again in full career. Ellen appeared 
 now and then in society, but her stay 
 was quite short. She was never seen 
 more than a little while at any place, 
 and then she was so lovely, so captivat- 
 ing, that one saw her disappear with real 
 regret, after she had for a few moments 
 been the object of general admiration. 
 The women asserted that it was a coquet- 
 tish ruse in the young married woman, 
 who wished to let her admirers feel the 
 void which she left behind her. They 
 said much more than this ; but it entered 
 no one's mind that she hastened from 
 the pleasures, flattery, and vanity of the 
 saloon in order to take her place by the 
 cradle of her sleeping child, or to let it 
 rest in her arms. That she showed her- 
 self in company like a meteor, to shine 
 and disappear, came from the fact that 
 her husband required it, and she had 
 made it a law to please him so far as lay 
 in her power, although never at the ex- 
 pense of her child's care. The former 
 way of life in her own house was again 
 commenced. A number of so-called 
 friends assembled there once a week, be- 
 sides all the invited companies. All at- 
 tempts at retrenchment on Ellen's part 
 were fruitless, and only called forth anger 
 and bitter feelings from Evert. Thus 
 she soon perceived that so long as any of
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN". 
 
 97 
 
 her property remained, nothing would be 
 able to check him in his extravagance 
 and love of display. The aim of his life 
 was still to be foremost in society, and 
 until all sources of help were exhausted, 
 nothing in the world could restrain him 
 from continuing as he had begun. Often 
 when Ellen sat alone with her child, she 
 thanked her mother in her heart for so 
 arranging it that this chilli at least 
 should never be impoverished through 
 her husband's folly ; but she had not yet 
 thought that she would perhaps one day 
 be forced to choose between her hus- 
 band's honor and her child's future. She 
 did not consider it possible that it could 
 come to that. 
 
 Time had thus elapsed, and the great- 
 er part of the winter was over. Uno 
 had often been at Ochard's, but only 
 when there was a reception. His beha- 
 vior towards Ellen evinced true respect ; 
 but he never approached her for a pri- 
 vate conversation. He carefully avoided 
 everything which reminded of the former 
 friendly intimacy. 
 
 One morning in March while Ellen 
 was playing with her little boy, Baroness 
 Ernstein came in. Augusta looked dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 " My dear Ellen," said she, " I desire 
 to speak a few words to you in confi- 
 dence." 
 
 Ellen rang, and Ingrid assumed the 
 charge of the boy. When Augusta and 
 Ellen were alone, the Baroness said, 
 
 " Have you seen your husband to- 
 day!" 
 
 "Yes, but only for a moment. He 
 has had so many calls this morning and 
 was obliged to go to the Treasurer so 
 early, that we only spoke a few hasty 
 words to each other. But why do you 
 ask me this question 1 " 
 
 " You shall hear directly. I suppose 
 you know where he was yesterday 1 " 
 
 "At a dinner which your husband 
 had given in honor of the Englishman, 
 Lord H ." 
 
 " Precisely. When the dinner was 
 over, some of the gentlemen concluded 
 to go to Djurgarden. There they played 
 
 cards. Captain U had desperately 
 
 bad luck, while your husband's was bril- 
 liant. When U had played away all 
 
 the money which he had with him, he 
 put up his remarkably fine riding horse. 
 Ochard won that also, and the game was 
 
 then ended. U , embittered by his 
 
 reverses, wished to be revenged on your 
 husband, and said to Lord H , 
 
 " ' You have not taken part in the 
 game, and yet I know that you are a 
 lucky player.' 
 
 " ' It is just my constant luck that 
 takes away the pleasure of playing^,' 
 replied his Lordship. ' It is so monoto- 
 nous to win continually.' 
 
 " ' So you always have good luck, my 
 Lord ? ' asked Evert. 
 
 " ' Yes, so invariably, that I scarcely 
 think I can lose.' 
 
 " ' But it might happen that Fortune 
 one day might turn her back on you. 
 She is capricious,' said Evert. 
 
 " ' Possibly, but I doubt if she will 
 gladden me with a proof of her capri- 
 ciousness.' 
 
 " 'And besides,' joined in U , 'no 1 
 
 person with a limited fortune ought to 
 
 engage in a contest with Lord H , 
 
 who can afford to lose as large a sum as 
 your whole fortune, my dear Ochard.' 
 
 " ' I do not dispute it ; but it would 
 still be interesting to see if my Lord's 
 luck holds this evening.' 
 
 " ' This evening, like all others,' replied 
 the Lord, with irritated assurance. 
 
 " ' You are not rich enough, dear 
 Ochard, to risk the experiment,' said 
 U . 
 
 " ' I am at least rich enough to venture 
 to tempt fortune this evening, without 
 needing to put my horses at stake,' re- 
 plied Ochard, presumptuously. 
 
 " 'If you are determined to be ruined, 
 my denr sir,' said the Englishman, ' it 
 is- not ruy fault ; I have warned you.'
 
 98 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 " But Ochard's vanity, wounded by 
 U 's words and Lord H 's assur- 
 ance, hindered him from listening to the 
 warnings of the others. With an expres- 
 sion of reliance he said, 
 
 " ' I am not so easily ruined, my Lord.' 
 
 " Then the game began. At first luck 
 seemed actually to have abandoned the 
 Englishman, and Ochard triumphed, 
 while those around him praised his lucky 
 star, which never failed him ; but during 
 the third game the luck turned, and 
 after that remained steadily on the Eng- 
 lishman's side. 
 
 " ' My dear sir, the stake is too high, 
 we will make it lower. It is my unfelici- 
 tous luck which I would show you, but 
 I do not care to win your money.' 
 
 " ' And I, my Lord, can very well bear 
 the loss which this or even a higher 
 stake might involve.' 
 
 " In short, when they had finished 
 playing, your husband, who is not gen- 
 erally a gambler, had, out of sheer vanity, 
 lost an unheard-of sum. He had played 
 on his word of honor, and the debt must 
 be liquidated to - morrow, when Lord 
 
 H is invited here to dinner, together 
 
 with my husband and several of the 
 corps diplomatique. I, who know from 
 Rubens how large a fortune you brought 
 him, and have also learned through 
 experience what it costs to live as you 
 do, was almost beside myself with fright 
 at this intelligence. I foresaw that he 
 would probably not be able to pay his 
 gambling debt without a sensible loss for 
 the time, and therefore I beg you to turn 
 to me if it should be necessary. It is 
 quite likely that Evert cannot command 
 so large an amount withoiit being com- 
 pelled to procure it in a way that would 
 place him in the hands of the usurers." 
 
 " How large is this amount 1 " asked 
 Ellen, in a trembling voice. 
 
 " I know not how many thousand riks 
 thalers." 
 
 " Thanks, Augusta, for your sympathy 
 and friendship ! But however large this 
 
 sum may be, Evert will certainly be able 
 to pay it, without being obliged to bor- 
 row." 
 
 "Are you perfectly sure of thatl" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 " My dear Ellen, a hundred thousand 
 thalers is certainly a large sum ; but when 
 one lives at the rate of at least twelve 
 thousand a year, has an establishment 
 which costs more than twenty thousand, 
 and before his marriage had a debt of 
 perhaps twenty thousand, then, my 
 friend, it is probable that there is not 
 much remaining after eight years' mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " Notwithstanding this, Augusta, I as- 
 sure you that Evert will not need to bor- 
 row, in order to pay his gambling debt." 
 
 "I know you have a capital which 
 he cannot come at. But consider, you 
 are both young, and you have a child, 
 whom you must not deprive of these 
 means, which will one day be all you 
 possess. You see, Ellen, I speak as a 
 friend who thoroughly knows the truth, 
 and npt like the multitude who assert 
 that your fortune is three times as large 
 as it is, something which Evert has 
 tried to make every one believe. But to 
 none but you have I said what I thought 
 and intended in this matter." 
 
 " Thanks, thanks, you dear, good wo- 
 man ! But believe me, I rely so fully 
 upon you and your friendship, that if I 
 should one day need the help of others, 
 you would be the only one to whom I 
 would apply." 
 
 In a little while Augusta left. Ellen 
 walked to and fro for a few moments, as 
 if undecided about what she ought to do. 
 Finally she went in to her child, and after 
 pressing him to her heart a moment with 
 a warm prayer, she dressed herself and 
 went out. 
 
 On the evening of the same day, after 
 the married couple had retired, without 
 Evert's mentioning a word of what had
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 99 
 
 occurred, simply informing his wife that 
 
 Lord H and several friends were to 
 
 dine with him the next day, Ellen was 
 awakened by her husband's getting up 
 very carefully. While pretending to be 
 asleep she saw him take her keys and 
 open her bureau very cautiously, pulling 
 out the drawer in which she was accus- 
 tomed to keep her jewels. But when he 
 found the drawer empty, he made a ges- 
 ture of surprise and anger, and then 
 opened all the other drawers with great 
 impatience, but only found some less 
 valuable trinkets. All the rest were 
 gone. 
 
 "What does this mean?" muttered 
 Evert, pale as death, and locked the 
 bureau again. 
 
 Any one who had seen the look of an- 
 guish, of horror and grief, which Ellen 
 fastened on her husband, could have 
 divined what she at that moment suffered. 
 But when Evert returned to bed she 
 closed her eyes and feigned slumber, 
 while she thought, 
 
 " I will spare him the humiliation of 
 knowing that I have seen his act. 
 God, sustain my courage ! " 
 
 During the remainder of the night the 
 words of the jeweler, whom she had asked 
 to exchange her jewels for false ones, re- 
 sounded in her ears : " The Assessor has 
 already spoken with me aboxit this." 
 
 The next morning after breakfast, 
 Evert said, 
 
 " Listen, Ellen ; I would like to have 
 the jeweller alter your ornaments and 
 make the setting a little more modern. 
 Can I see them 1 " 
 
 " No, my dear, you cannot, for I left 
 them there yesterday in the same design 
 which you had in view." 
 
 " That is singular ! But I must de- 
 clare that I do not at all like such inde- 
 pendent actions. I require you to con- 
 sult with me, and not to take such meas- 
 ures without my consent. To what jew- 
 eller have you taken them ? " 
 
 " To Herr H ." Ellen went to him 
 
 with a sad, almost suffering expression 
 in her eyes, saying : " Leave this tri- 
 fling matter, Evert, and let me attend to 
 the affair myself; for I have something 
 more important to speak to you about. 
 I wish to give you this money. A cer- 
 tain feeling tells me that you need it." 
 She handed her husband a roll of bills. 
 " But mark well ! this is the only, the 
 last means which I have a right to dispose 
 of." 
 
 " Ellen, from whence have you ob- 
 tained this money 1 " exclaimed Evert, 
 very red in the face ; " and how do you 
 know that I need it ? " 
 
 " Let both remain my secret, and rest 
 assured that T shall endeavor to forget 
 all that concerns this matter, if you will 
 only out of love for me make the sacri- 
 fice not to gamble any more." 
 
 " Ellen, I am no gambler." 
 
 " No, I am aware of it, but from a 
 false ambition you allow yourself to be 
 tempted to play." 
 
 " You season your gift with moraliz- 
 ing," rejoined Evert in an offended tone. 
 
 " Moralizing 1 no, Evert, but with ad- 
 vice, a warning from the best friend you 
 possess, and it ought not to wound you. 
 Who is better entitled to give you friend- 
 ly advice than your wife ; she who is 
 to share with you all sorrows and joys? 
 Ah, Evert ! believe me, no one can wish 
 to spare you every humiliation more than 
 I; but do not regard the words which 
 my duty and my reason dictate as 
 blame or the desire to preach to you. 
 What I say has its ground in so sincere 
 an affection, that it ought not to be mis- 
 understood." 
 
 The dinner was over ; a part of the 
 gentlemen had taken their leave to re- 
 turn to Ochard's in the evening. Uno, 
 who was also there to dinner, had re- 
 -mained with several others. The first 
 of the guests for the evening who ar- 
 rived was Baroness Ernstein.
 
 100 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 Uno approached her and said in a low 
 voice, 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " You wish to know how the embassy 
 resulted. Just as I had supposed. Not 
 a word of disapproval passed Ellen's lips ; 
 she declared that she would make it all 
 right and refused to accept my aid." 
 
 " She has kept her word. Ochard has 
 
 in our presence paid Lord H . Can 
 
 she have gone so far in her pride as to 
 cancel her settlement and deprive her 
 child of his patrimony ? " 
 
 " I do not think so," answered the 
 Baroness ; " she loves her child too deep- 
 ly for that ; but she has made a different 
 kind of a sacrifice." 
 
 " What sacrifice 1" 
 
 " That which I predicted." 
 
 " Sold her jewels 1 " 
 
 "Precisely. When you informed me 
 of Evert's pecuniary condition, and told 
 m'e that he could not possibly pay his 
 gambling debt without applying to a 
 usurer, at the same time desiring me 
 to offer my services, I said to you, 'El- 
 len will sooner sell her jewels than so- 
 licit the assistance of others.' I know 
 her too well not to be aware of how 
 sensitive she is where her husband is 
 concerned." 
 
 " But how do you know that she sold 
 her jewels'?" 
 
 " When I left her, I went to the jew- 
 eller's to give an order. When I stepped 
 into my carriage, Ellen's stopped before 
 the store. I guessed her errand imme- 
 diately, and after making a few calls I re- 
 turned to the jeweller's. There lay three 
 etuis. I opened one of them and recog- 
 nized Ellen's jewels. And now I have as 
 a true spy rendered my accounts." 
 
 At that moment Ellen came towards 
 them, saying, 
 
 " What is being discussed here 1 I 
 have had such a hard contest to sustain 
 with several of the ladies, that I wish 
 you, Augusta, could have been there to 
 help me." 
 
 " And what was the strife about 1 " 
 " Men and women's unequal rights." 
 "Well, how did the battle end?" 
 asked Uno, smiling. 
 
 " Ah ! I came very near losing it ; 
 for the two ladies fell upon me with so 
 many rights of our sex, that I found my- 
 self compelled to take up the cause of the 
 assailed," replied Ellen. 
 
 " You defended man ! " exclaimed the 
 Baroness. " My friend, you may be glad 
 that I was not there, for you would then 
 have had one adversary more. I have 
 made a resolution from which I never 
 swerve, always to attack the so-called 
 stronger sex." 
 
 Again a time elapsed. Evert informed 
 his wife that <he had obtained the office 
 he had striven for, and that he intended 
 to celebrate his promotion now as in 
 former times, with a grand ball. 
 
 " Evert, ought we to give any large 
 party now 1 Can we do it ? " 
 
 " See here, Ellen, hereafter it is my in- 
 come which is used, and I beg to be ex- 
 cused from all interference on your part 
 in matters with which you have nothing 
 to do." 
 
 Ellen was silent. A ball was ar- 
 ranged with such magnificence, that El- 
 len could have wept. Flowers were 
 ordered from the hot-houses for the 
 whole dancing-hall, so that the room 
 should have the appearance of a gar- 
 den. No means were spared to make 
 the entertainment brilliant and sump- 
 tuous. 
 
 The guests were lavish in their praise, 
 and lauded Evert as a man who knew 
 how to use his wealth in a manner 
 that spread enjoyment and delight 
 around him. But if one could have 
 thrown a glance into Ellen's heart and 
 seen how unhappy she felt at this mag- 
 nificence, which, as she suspected, cost 
 them the last of their remaining fortune,
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 101 
 
 how he would nave pitied this much- 
 envied woman ! 
 
 One evening a week after the festivi- 
 ty, when Ellen's little boy had gone to 
 sleep and she sat alone with her sewing, 
 the door opened hastily and Evert en- 
 tered. He was very pale. 
 
 " I wish to speak with you, Ellen," 
 said he. * 
 
 She went out with him into the cabi- 
 net. 
 
 " Do yo\i recollect that you once said 
 with regard to the settlement which your 
 mother made, that everything you pos- 
 sessed was mine also 1 " 
 
 " Very well, Evert, and you can find 
 the proof of it in my wishing you to draw 
 the interest." 
 
 " But what do you suppose a man can 
 do with two thousand five hundred tha- 
 lers a year 1 ? It is barely enough for a 
 simple clerk's family to live on, much 
 less a man in my position." 
 
 " Your own income is now so large 
 that^ joined to this interest and the re- 
 mainder of our fortune, it ought to 
 enable us to live an untroubled life." 
 
 " Possibly for one who can limit him- 
 self and has no debts; but you see, I 
 neither can nor will change our manner 
 of life. By so doing I should cease to 
 be the leader of the ton, the one around 
 whom all gather to render him their 
 homage and admiration. Do you not 
 understand how abhorrent it would be 
 for a wealthy and courted man, the ob- 
 ject of the attention of persons in high 
 places, to step down to the level of a 
 ruined man, which I actually am 1 ? To 
 be obliged, after such a life as ours, to 
 make retrenchments and live like an or- 
 dinary office-h older who toils for his liv- 
 ing? No, this shabby style I am not 
 created for. Rather than survive such an 
 humiliation, I would shoot myself. But 
 so desperate a step is not necessary. 
 With a single stroke of the pen you can 
 cancel that deed , for it is stated in your 
 mother's contract that, if you should con- 
 
 sider it your duty to annul it, you have 
 the right to do so." 
 
 " Yes, so it stands," answered Ellen 
 with mild earnestness ; " but there is a 
 clause qualifying this permission, which 
 runs thus : ' But if my daughter Ellen 
 has children in her marriage, then I ad- 
 vise her to reflect well before she sets 
 aside the disposition I have made, so 
 that she may only in a case of the great- 
 est necessity infringe my desire, which 
 is, for her to leave this property to her 
 children undiminished.' " 
 
 " Well, that really does not hinder 
 you from annulling the contract, so 
 much I can understand. If you love me 
 truly and sincerely, you will not hesitate 
 for a moment. Love sacrifices every- 
 thing." 
 
 "But true affection first considers 
 whether the gift benefits or injures. 
 ' Only in a case of the greatest necessi- 
 ty,' says my mother's will ; and I revere 
 her too much not to regard her wish as 
 sacred. Evert, believe me, were it to 
 save your honor, I would hesitate as lit- 
 tle now as when I gave you the sum 
 which you needed to fulfil your word. 
 But as it is, I should defraud my child, 
 you, and myself of a security against 
 need and trouble, only for the sake of 
 continuing a foolish manner of life for a 
 few years. No, Evert, I should be a 
 poor mother, a poor wife, and a weak, 
 pitiful woman, if I did not try to check 
 you in the course upon which you have 
 entered and which will lead to the ruin 
 of us all." 
 
 " Ellen, you will then see me in de- 
 spair over our downfall, force me to 
 shoot myself ! " exclaimed Evert with a 
 gesture full of effect. He had always 
 found Ellen submissive, and did not for a 
 moment doubt that she would yield now. 
 But he did not know the strength which 
 this heart contained. 
 
 " No, not at all. And I cannot enter- 
 tain so mean a thought of you, as that 
 you would commit a crime so infamous
 
 102 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAX. 
 
 as to stain your wife and child with the 
 blood of a suicide, rather than to sacrifice 
 a little of the vain display with which 
 you surround your life." 
 
 " You thus refuse to annul the con- 
 tract 1 " 
 
 " Yes, Evert, for I should not do you 
 a service by complying with your wish. 
 In a few years we should again be in the 
 same situation, and have nothing remain- 
 ing for our child." 
 
 " Well, then, cold, selfish woman, you 
 are likely to be forced ; for I have a debt 
 of thirty thousand thalers, and am abso- 
 lutely obliged to redeem two or three 
 notes in the space of a fortnight, besides 
 paying for the new furniture in the 
 dancing-hall. And the carriage-maker 
 will not wait any longer. In a word, I 
 must have money, otherwise I shall be 
 miserable ; and if you do not give it to 
 me willingly, then I shall force you, for 
 my honor is at stake." Evert went 
 towards his wife with a threatening ges- 
 ture. 
 
 Ellen had become unnaturally pale. 
 She leaned against her writing-table, the 
 drawers of which contained the deeds 
 through which her child's future was se- 
 cured. A moment's pause ensued. She 
 sat down as if to consider her whole 
 position. Finally she said in a voice so 
 deeply serious that it acquired something 
 solemn, 
 
 " Take a seat, Evert, and let us ex- 
 amine our position with calmness. Then, 
 when I have come to a clear understand- 
 ing of it all, I will take my resolution." 
 Not a word or even a look accused the 
 foolish husband who had squandered so 
 large a fortune. 
 
 Evert, who saw that if he wished to 
 gain his object, he must reveal to his wife 
 a part of the truth, accounted for all the 
 debts of which he considered it necessary 
 to inform her. Without a muscle mov- 
 ing in her face, she heard that all the 
 property he had obtained with her was 
 very nearly destroyed. Besides this, 
 
 Ochard had a debt of thirty thousand 
 thalers. With her head leaning on her 
 hand Ellen repeated within herself, 
 
 " Thus completely ruined ! All that 
 remains is only a part of what my moth- 
 er destined for my children." 
 
 But of all the bitter and agonized 
 thoughts which filled her breast, not a 
 single one passed her lips. When her 
 husband had finished, she stifled the sigh 
 which tried to force its escape, and gave 
 him her hand with an indescribably ten- 
 der and sorrowful expression, 
 
 " Thank you, Evert, for letting me 
 know the truth and not concealing our 
 actual situation from me." 
 
 " And you make over to me the right 
 to draw the money mentioned in the 
 contract 1 " exclaimed Evert, pressing her 
 hand and carrying it to his lips. 
 
 " No. But I shall so arrange our af- 
 fairs, that we can lead a life free from 
 care on your income." 
 
 " Ellen ! " shrieked Evert, and sprang 
 up. " Do not drive me to any exti^me," 
 added he, laying his clenched hand on 
 the table ; " I inight then feel the desire 
 to destroy this deed myself, which de- 
 prives me of a property that ought to 
 belong to me, and if I did so, I could 
 defy you to assert that I had destroyed 
 the paper. Will you now give me what 
 I ask, or shall I take it ] " 
 
 Ellen had also risen, and stood erect 
 with a high head before her husband. 
 She handed him a key and said with a 
 formidable calmness, 
 
 " I do not wish you to degrade your- 
 self so far as to commit a theft ; you 
 have been on the point of doing it once 
 before ; then it concerned my jewels. 
 Here is the key which clears your way to 
 these papers, take them ! But no power 
 in the world shall then compel me to 
 take part in this extravagant life. At 
 the same moment that you appropriate 
 this little fortune, which, small as it is, 
 could yet have secured our future, I take 
 my child in my arms and leave a hus-
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 103 
 
 band, who wilfully, with full conscious- 
 ness and deliberation, would rather ruin 
 his family than submit to a few retrench- 
 ments in his manner of life. This is now 
 my firm decision." She laid the key be- 
 fore him on the table ; but Evert pushed 
 it hastily away and exclaimed in an agi- 
 tated voice, while he buried his face in 
 his hands, 
 
 "Never would I have believed that 
 you cherished so little love for me. Ah ! 
 it is fearful, in the hour of misfortune to 
 be so treated by the one who ought to 
 share and alleviate my troubles." 
 
 " Evert, Evert, I will share, mitigate, 
 and put an end to your troubles," whis- 
 pered Ellen ; " but I will do it in such a 
 way that we can be satisfied with it in 
 the future. All, all, will I do for you, 
 except to give you the opportunity to con- 
 tinue a life which would make you and 
 your child miserable. Do not turn from 
 me ; believe my assurance, that I would 
 without consideration, without a sigh, 
 sacrifice myself for you ; but your own 
 heart will tell you in a calmer moment 
 that. I have no right to deprive my child 
 of a secure future." She added with 
 tenderness, " For what do I live, if not 
 for you and my child ? You constitute 
 my whole world ! " 
 
 It was impossible not to be moved by 
 her voice, by her loving expression ; 
 therefore when Evert met her mild 
 glance, so full of soul, he said, 
 
 " Ellen, I will listen to you.'" 
 
 It would be unnecessary to relate here 
 word for word what she said ; but she ex- 
 pressed the hope that she should be able 
 to help him out of his difficulty. She 
 showed him the necessity of leading a 
 very different life henceforth. With the 
 warmth of conviction she represented to 
 him that he had now arrived at the age 
 when vanity ought to give way to a no- 
 ble ambition ; that his aim hereafter 
 ought to be, not to shine with that which 
 was in itself without value, but really to 
 be of use. Evert listened \^ith a cloud- 
 
 ed brow, but still he listened. To his 
 objection, that he could not change his 
 way of life without letting the world sus- 
 pect the true cause of it, and that he 
 could not possibly bear the humiliation, 
 Ellen replied that the.re was a way of 
 helping that matter. He should take a 
 journey abroad during the summer 
 months at the expense of the state. 
 During the time she would pay his 
 debts, but on the condition that he gave 
 her full power to act in his place. They 
 conversed far into the night : she, with 
 tenderness and judgment; he, with the 
 bitterness which the necessity of yield- 
 ing and sacrificing that which he held 
 dearest must unavoidably engender with 
 such a man. 
 
 The next morning Ellen rode out quite 
 early. She went to the merchant who 
 had her money and drew a portion of the 
 principal, with which Evert redeemed 
 the notes that were due and paid the 
 tradesmen. Still, Evert was far from 
 satisfied with this measure, for he had 
 only wished to redeem the notes, and to 
 make a partial payment to the mechan- 
 ics, reserving a little of the money to 
 procure his vanity a few more delightful 
 moments. But when Ellen remained in- 
 exorable on this point, he was obliged to 
 comply, although with inward resent- 
 ment. 
 
 In the beginning of May, Evert started 
 on his journey abroad, after bidding his 
 wife a cold farewell. 
 
 So Ellen was then left alone, with the 
 promise which she had given her hus- 
 band so to arrange everything that at 
 his return he should have no debts and 
 could continue to be regarded as a man 
 of means. With an admirable strength 
 of mind and a quick comprehension of 
 what ought to be done, Ellen went to 
 work. 
 
 Her first move was to set aside twenty
 
 104 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 thousand thalers of the amount deposited 
 with the merchant for her son, in such a 
 way that this sum could not be touched. 
 Then she sold the house with a gain of 
 ten thousand thalers. With this addi- 
 tion to her means, Ellen looked forward 
 to the future with hope and trust ; for 
 she had now paid all the debts of which 
 Evert had told her, and still possessed a 
 considerable surplus. 
 
 When with the assistance of the mer- 
 chant she had in all silence put Evert's 
 affairs in order, and had made an esti- 
 mate of what remained and how it should 
 be employed, she removed to her pretty 
 little country place, Eksholm, where she 
 one day received a letter from Evert's fa- 
 ther, who was settled on a small estate 
 some miles from the capital. The letter 
 ran thus : 
 
 " MY BELOVED CHILD : However un- 
 willing I am to trouble you, I can still 
 not avoid telling_you a few things about 
 your husband, my son, which have occa- 
 sioned me much sorrow. I do so, because 
 it may have very unpleasant conse- 
 quences for my daughters, and I desire 
 you to make yourself acquainted with 
 how matters stand. I was very ill last 
 fall, as you know, and being unable to go 
 to the capital myself to attend to my af- 
 fairs, I was obliged to write to Evert and 
 commission him to draw a sum of money 
 which had been placed at interest, and 
 which constituted his sisters' inheritance 
 from their mother. He let me know a 
 short time afterwards that he had taken 
 the money, and bade me tell him where 
 he should place it. I told him to loan it 
 out to another firm on a first mortgage, 
 and gave him full power to act in my 
 place. Since then he has said in several 
 letters that he had not yet found time to 
 attend to the affair, and finally asked me 
 if I would not allow "him for the present 
 to deposit it with the same merchant who 
 had your money, until I could see to the 
 matter myself. I replied that I was satis- 
 
 fied with that arrangement. The next let- 
 ter which I received was from you, with the 
 intelligence that Evert had gone abroad. 
 I found it scarcely in accordance with 
 civility and the respect to which I as a 
 father was entitled, for him to go away 
 without writing to me ; it also seemed to 
 me incomprehensible that he had not 
 sent me any receipt for the money. In 
 short, then wrote to the merchant in 
 question, and obtained the answer that 
 Evert had not placed his sisters' little 
 patrimony with him. I have written to 
 Evert, without receiving any answer. 
 All this has led me to try to find out 
 about his affairs, which I have succeeded 
 in doing through my son-in-law, Cap- 
 tain L . 
 
 '" L has probably visited you dur- 
 ing his stay in Stockholm ; but I had 
 forbidden him to speak with you on busi- 
 ness, for 1 wished first to know how 
 things were with Evert. 
 
 " L , whose property is in the hands 
 
 of a merchant who is Count Uno Ker- 
 ner's homme daffaires, was, on calling 
 upon him, questioned about how Evert's 
 affairs actually stood. When L re- 
 quested to know the reason of this in- 
 quiry, the merchant replied, 
 
 " ' I only wish to hear if he is really 
 wealthy, which I begin to doubt, as he 
 has twice borrowed of Count Uno Ker- 
 ner and stands in debt to him for ten 
 thousand thalers.' 
 
 "All this, and much more, has excited 
 my anxiety ; and I now ask you, my 
 daughter, how is it with my son ? Has 
 he destroyed the whole fortune which 
 you brought him, and must I consider 
 him a dishonest man 1 
 
 "It would cruelly grieve me to be 
 obliged to descend into my grave with 
 the certainty that my only sou is a man 
 without honor, a vain and frivolous spend- 
 thrift, who, for the gratification of his 
 miserable desire for display and pleasure, 
 prepares ruin for all his family. 
 
 " If my health had permitted, I would
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 105 
 
 have cotne to you in person, to obtain a 
 frank answer to these sad questions. 
 " Your affectionate father-in-law, 
 
 " EVERT OF OCHARD." 
 
 Ellen sat stunned by this new blow. 
 She, who had thought with so much joy 
 that her husband still possessed a little 
 remnant of the property, she, who be- 
 lieved that he had spoken frankly when 
 he gave an account of his debts, now 
 saw a new list of them, and besides, 
 this was the worst of all, the dishon- 
 esty towards his poor sisters, whom he 
 had robbed of the little means they pos- 
 sessed, which the father, with full confi- 
 dence in his son's honor and integrity, 
 had entrusted to him. 
 
 She could not weep : her grief was too 
 great to be relieved by tears. But she 
 was not one of those who sit inactive and 
 brood over the misfortunes which have 
 befallen them. She always sought for a 
 way of ameliorating the evil. When 
 trial came upon her, she tried to bear it 
 with a true Christian spirit. So was it 
 now. After the first grief and consterna- 
 tion had abated, her only desire was to 
 be able to cover her husband's fault, and 
 to spare the old father sorrow on account 
 of his son. 
 
 With. this resolution she went in to 
 town to endeavor to make all things 
 right. 
 
 The next day she wrote to her step- 
 father : 
 
 " Mr DEAR FATHER : With deep grief 
 I find myself to be a cause of misunder- 
 standing between you and Evert. The 
 state of the case is this : my husband, at 
 his departure, requested me to send you 
 the enclosed receipt for the money in 
 question. The reason that this paper 
 did not come to hand long ago is my 
 neglect to send it. Be calm, dear father, 
 in regard to Evert ; he will certainly 
 never occasion you any sorrow." 
 
 Ellen had now saved her husband from 
 his father's anger and contempt ; for he 
 belonged to the old school, and was very 
 strict in his ideas of honor. But she was 
 considerably poorer in consequence, and 
 the appearance of carelessness which fell 
 upon her would diminish her father-in- 
 law's respect. 
 
 After she had sent this letter, she 
 commissioned the merchant to redeem 
 the notes which Evert had given Uuo 
 Kerner ; but she received the answer 
 that the Count had taken the notes from 
 his agent, sa} T ing- that he wished to at- 
 tend to the affair himself. 
 
 Ellen then wrote to Uno and asked 
 him to call on her; but the Count was 
 away, and she was obliged to return to 
 Eksholm without being able to do any- 
 thing further in the matter. 
 
 All that now remained of their fortune, 
 besides the twenty thousand thalers which 
 Ellen had reserved for her child, was 
 eight thousand thalers. 
 
 One month after this Uno returned to 
 the capital, when he immediately received 
 a call from Ellen's agent, for the purpose 
 of redeeming the notes ; but Uno replied, 
 that he wished to talk with Fru Ochard 
 first, and accordingly that same afternoon 
 he went to Eksholm. 
 
 It was a beautiful day in July, and 
 Ellen was spending it out in the open air 
 with her child. 
 
 The life which she led at Eksholm was 
 very retired. Uno found her in the little 
 park, to which Ingrid had shown him. 
 After he had greeted Ellen with his for- 
 mer cordiality, he said, 
 
 "Forgive me for coming and disturb- 
 ing you ! But I am obliged to speak 
 with you on account of a visit which 
 your agent made me in your behalf. I 
 see very well that the commission did not 
 come from Evert, as the notes are not 
 due before five years. Evert told me at
 
 106 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 his departure not to deliver the notes to 
 any one but him, as he desired that you 
 should remain in ignorance of this debt. 
 How you obtained knowledge of it, I do 
 not know, neither do I think that I have 
 the right, after the promise I gave Evert, 
 to let you pay this debt." 
 
 " But if I have obtained this charge 
 from him, then you will certainly not 
 oppose it ] " 
 
 " If it were really Evert, who with his 
 own means wished to clear himself from 
 his debt to me, I would then have no 
 right to make any objections. But if 
 you take this debt upon you, with the 
 sacrifice of your private fortune of your 
 child's inheritance, then you ought to 
 allow me to refuse." 
 
 " That with which I discharge Evert's 
 debts will not deprive my child of his in- 
 heritance," answered Ellen with a slight 
 color. " But even if it were so, I believe 
 it is my duty as well as my son's, to 
 make a sacrifice when it is done for the 
 advantage of my husband and my child's 
 father." 
 
 " But there is no necessity for paying 
 this debt." 
 
 " Yes, it is a matter of honor ; for my 
 husband ought not to be your debtor." 
 
 " Ellen, Ellen, what is it you say 1 " 
 
 " The truth. This debt burns in my 
 heart like a reproach of conscience. Not 
 until it is paid shall I breathe freely." 
 
 " You feel humiliated because I was 
 able to do your husband this little ser- 
 vice, and yet I had believed that you 
 cherished friendship for me. Ellen, 
 you do not consider me a man of honor, 
 if you are pained d,t my being so happy 
 as to help Erert." 
 
 " Among all Evert's debts this to you 
 was the only one from which I felt hu- 
 miliated. Say nothing ! Your own 
 heart/ approves what I say, and let us 
 not 'waste further words on the subject. 
 The debt shall be paid ; receive my 
 thanks for assisting my husband so mag- 
 nanimously." 
 
 Uno took her extended hand in si- 
 lence. 
 
 " Ah ! if you could imagine how hap- 
 py I feel when I now know that Ochard 
 has no longer any debts." 
 
 " Are you sure of that ? " 
 
 " Perfectly." . 
 
 " Without wishing to speak against 
 your husband, I will only ask, do you 
 believe that he will remain free from debt 
 long?" 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 " You 'hope ! Ah ! do you not know 
 that the vain man, like the drunkard, 
 thirsts for more, the more he enjoys. 
 The vain person also resembles the gam- 
 bler, with this difference, that the latter's 
 stake is always money, while the gain of 
 the former is never anything but empty 
 flattery ; still, like the gambler, he sacri- 
 fices all in the hope of winning." 
 
 " What you say is true ; but OcHard 
 is no longer such a gambler. He has 
 won flattery enough, to be able to turn 
 over a new leaf without regret, and be- 
 come ambitious." 
 
 " Ambitious ? He has not yet reached 
 the point where he will be able to re- 
 nounce the moment's applause for a fu- 
 ture glory. A more bitter experience in 
 the school of life is required for that." 
 
 " No, all that is needed is for him to 
 love me and his child ; and he does," 
 added Ellen mildly ; but a sad forebod- 
 ing filled her heart of something very 
 painful which yet remained for her. 
 
 Ingrid now came and announced a 
 Herr Jonathan from Hamburg, who had 
 just at that moment arrived and asked 
 to see her Grace. 
 
 Ellen and Uno went up to the house. 
 In the little saloon they found a middle- 
 aged man, whose face showed that he was 
 a Jew. 
 
 Herr Jonathan bowed politely as they 
 entered. 
 
 " I beg your pardon for disturbing you, 
 madam, but the Assessor gave me per- 
 mission to call upon his wile."
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 107 
 
 " Did you meet my husband in Ham- 
 burg 1 " 
 
 " We met in Stockholm, shortly before 
 his departure from Sweden, which you 
 are well aware of, I hope." Herr Jona- 
 than again bowed. 
 
 " No, sir, this is the first time I have 
 heard your name. If you have any mes- 
 sage from my husband, then be so good 
 as to communicate it to me." 
 
 " Is it the first time that you hear my 
 name 1 ?" said Herr Jonathan, surprised. 
 " Try to remember if you have not heard 
 it before, if your husband has not men- 
 tioned it 1 " 
 
 " I assure you that I have never heard 
 him speak of you." 
 
 "What does that mean?" exclaimed 
 the Jew ; " and yet I have your security to 
 pay me in the space of two months the 
 sum which I advanced to the Assessor at 
 his departure. If you, madam, did not 
 sign your name yourself, then it is forged." 
 Herr Jonathan drew out a paper and 
 showed Ellen the signature. 
 
 Ellen became so unnaturally pale, that 
 Uno rose involuntarily, for he feared that 
 she would faint. But she was not one of 
 those who are ready to swoon on every 
 occasion ; she did not have weak nerves, 
 consequently she soon recovered herself 
 and said, 
 
 " It is very true that I wrote this se- 
 curity, but I had entirely forgotten the 
 name of the person to whom it was made 
 out." 
 
 " Perhaps the amount also," returned 
 Herr Jonathan with a mien which drove 
 the blood to Ellen's cheeks. With a ges- 
 ture full of dignity she rose and said, 
 
 " Be so kind as to name the amount 
 of the debt, and you shall receive the 
 payment. This, sir, is all that you need 
 to know." 
 
 "Five thousand riks thalers, besides 
 the interest." 
 
 Elian went to her writing-table and 
 wrote an order upon the merchant, with 
 whom she still had eight thousand riks 
 
 thalers, all that remained of her for- 
 tune. 
 
 " There it is, sir, and you may give 
 
 Merchant D my husband's note as 
 
 a quittance." 
 
 At the same moment Ellen handed 
 Jonathan the order, an old man stepped 
 between them. 
 
 . " Wait a little, sir," said the old gen- 
 tleman. " Be so good as to show me my 
 son's note of hand with my daughter-in- 
 law's signature." 
 
 " You here, my father ! " exclaimed 
 Ellen, with an expression of anguish. 
 "It is unnecessary for you to see the 
 note," added she beseechingly. " The 
 debt is paid, and 
 
 " I will see it," said the old man has- 
 tily. "Herr Jonathan I am 'medical 
 councillor ' of Ochard and the father of 
 the Assessor. You ought to consider 
 that I have some right to be obeyed in 
 this house." 
 
 Herr Jonathan handed the note to the 
 old gentleman, who looked at the signa- 
 ture a moment and then said with a 
 forced smile, 
 
 " I thank you, sir ; all is as I sup- 
 posed." 
 
 Jonathan bowed and left the room. 
 A few moments dreary silence ensued, 
 during which the old man regarded Ellen 
 with an expression of both grief and 
 severity. She stood before him with 
 downcast eyes, and the paleness of death 
 on her brow. Finally he seized her arm 
 as he said, 
 
 " I have a few words to say to you in 
 private, follow me in to your child." 
 
 Ellen looked at her father-in-law with 
 an expression full of anguish, as if she 
 had wished to pray for mercy ; but the 
 old man seemed to be insensible to it, 
 and they both left the room. 
 
 Uno had kept at a distance, in order 
 not to increase the bitterness of their 
 grief by reminding them that he waa 
 present. 
 When Ellen and her father-in-law had
 
 108 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAX. 
 
 entered the cabinet, he closed the door 
 behind them, and without saying a word 
 went to Ingrid, who sat by the window 
 playing with little Elon, took the boy in 
 his arms, and made a gesture of dismissal 
 to Ingrid, who immediately left the 
 room. 
 
 When the door closed after her, he said 
 in a serious voice, 
 
 " You did not sign your name to the 
 note. It was not your handwriting." 
 The old man's eyes were fastened sharp- 
 ly on Ellen, who at these words trembled 
 like a criminal. With a violent effort 
 she answered, 
 
 " Ochard wrote it with my permis- 
 sion." 
 
 "You lie, unfortunate woman, ".shrieked 
 the old man, pale with auger ; " you wish, 
 in your blind affection, to free him by 
 falsehood ; but one cannot deceive me so 
 easily. Lay your hand on your child's 
 head and say that he *vrote your name 
 with your permission." 
 
 Ellen remained motionless. 
 
 " You cannot answer. I knew it well 
 enough, unhappy man that I am ! My 
 only son, whom I loved so deeply, is then 
 a spendthrift, an impostor, a forger ! " 
 He covered his face with his hands and 
 threw himself down on the sofa. 
 
 " my father," exclaimed Ellen, fall- 
 ing on her knees, "do not speak so ! Is 
 not all that I possess my husband's also 1 
 One cannot call him a forger, if he uses 
 his wife's name. No, no, I had told him 
 that what was mine was also his. 0, you 
 must not be angry or accuse him ! He is 
 inconsiderate, that is all." 
 
 " Hush, do not try to excuse him ; for 
 I know all, all understand. I know that 
 it is you who paid back the money he 
 dissipated for his sisters, that he has 
 ruined you, that he is a contemptible 
 fool, who sacrifices everything to his 
 vanity. 0, that I should be obliged 
 to live to cur " 
 
 " Hold ! " exclaimed Ellen terrified. 
 
 " You must not be angry," said little 
 
 Elon, going to the old man ; " for mamma 
 has said that God does not like those who 
 are angry and naughty." 
 
 This tender, weak, innocent child's 
 voice, which raised itself in the midst of 
 the tumult of violent feelings and ut- 
 tered God's name, had a singular effect 
 on the old father. He again buried his 
 face in his hands, but he now sobbed like 
 a child; Ellen wept too, wept bitterly, 
 with her head leaning against his shoul- 
 der. Suddenly both felt a pair of 
 little childish hands patting them, and 
 Elon said, 
 
 " Do not cry, do not cry ! " Ellen 
 raised her tear-drenched face, smiled at 
 the child, and placed him on the old man's 
 knee, saying, 
 
 "Ask grandpa not to be angry with 
 papa ! " 
 
 Elon twined his arms around his neck 
 and said, 
 
 " Dear grandpa, you must not be an- 
 gry with papa ! " 
 
 Ochard took his hands from his face 
 and looked at the child a moment through 
 his tears, then pressed a kiss on his brow- 
 as he said, 
 
 " Your prayer is heard. God bless 
 and preserve you, child ! " Then he 
 turned to Ellen and added in an unsteady 
 voice, " God reward you, my daughter ! " 
 
 He put Elon down and said to Ellen, 
 
 " Now leave me alone awhile, my 
 child." 
 
 Ellen understood that he needed to be 
 alone in order to calm his perturbed mind ; 
 therefore, without saying a word, she 
 carried his hand to her lips, and, taking 
 her son with her, left the room. 
 
 As she left the cabinet she tried to 
 give her face a calmer expression ; but 
 her feelings were too violently agitated 
 for her to be able at once to efface from 
 her features the grief which filled her 
 soul. With a fruftless effort to smile 
 she advanced to Uno, who still remained 
 standing at the same window in the sa- 
 loon.
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 109 
 
 " Pardon me, Uno, for forgetting all 
 politeness to my guest," said she ; " but I 
 was obliged to accompany my father-in- 
 law, to explain my great thoughtlessness 
 in not remembering my obligation, thus 
 exposing my husband's honor, not only 
 in the eyes of that man, but also before 
 Evert's father and " 
 
 " Hush, Ellen, why this excuse ! Do 
 you then think that I do not know the 
 paltry character of this man whom you 
 defend and for whom you sacrifice your- 
 self? Yes, Ellen, I know him thorough- 
 ly, and it is time that you did also, be- 
 fore he leads you to an abyss which will 
 ingulf you all. No sacrifice on your 
 part will touch him. So long as you 
 possess anything to offer, he will force 
 you to do everything to gratify his van- 
 ity and extravagance. Ah then, Ellen, 
 realize at once that you must leave him 
 to his fate, if you wish to save anything 
 for your child." 
 
 " Never shall I abandon him ; never 
 so long as I am able will I withdraw 
 from him the help and the deliverance 
 which he has a right to demand of me." 
 
 " And your child 1 " 
 
 " God will protect him, if I do my du- 
 ty ; but poorly should I fulfil it if his 
 father was left a victim to disgrace." 
 Ellen bent down and wept. 
 
 " Ellen, your tears burn my soul ; 
 and this man, without honor, without 
 heart, has dared to draw them forth ! " 
 
 Uno approached Ellen and took one of 
 her hands, adding, 
 
 " I would give a year of my life to be 
 able to dry them." 
 
 " Uno," said she, raising her head, 
 " have respect for my grief and speak no 
 more about it." 
 
 Ingrid entered hastily and said, with 
 fright depicted in her countenance, 
 " Herr Ochard lies senseless there in 
 the cabinet." Scarcely were the words 
 passed her lips before Ellen was at the 
 old man's side. Uno threw himself on his 
 horse and rode to town after a physician. 
 
 Evert's father had a stroke of paraly- 
 sis, but regained consciousness a few 
 hours after the physician arrived. His 
 first clear thought was to request to 
 speak with Count Uno Kerner. 
 
 Uno, who had returned with the doc- 
 tor, went immediately to the sick man, 
 who spoke with great difficulty. When 
 Uno stood by his bed, he made a sign to 
 Ellen and the doctor to leave the room. 
 Uno bent down over him as soon as they 
 were alone, and the old man murmured, 
 in a scarcely audible voice, 
 
 " Send the letter to my son. 
 I wrote it when I fell sick. Add 
 to it that I died without 
 cursing him. Ellen prayed. The letter 
 lies in the other room on the 
 table. Promise " 
 
 " I promise sacredly to fulfil your 
 wish," said Uno, pressing his hand. 
 
 " Thanks ! " 
 
 A few moments afterwards he again 
 lost the power of speech. 
 
 With a daughter's tenderness and love, 
 Ellen watched by his sick-bed. She did 
 not leave him a moment, and the grate- 
 ful look which he fixed upon her said 
 more than words. On the fifth day, 
 Ellen, with deep sorrow in her heart, 
 knelt by her father-in-law's death-bed, 
 this father who had died of grief over his 
 son's bad deeds. Poor Ellen felt this 
 with deep pain, and his loss became still 
 more bitter at this consciousness. How 
 warm and fervent was the prayer which 
 she sent up as she knelt by the side of 
 the departed ! She remained there still 
 when Ingrid opened the door and ap- 
 proached her. 
 
 " Little Elon does not feel very well," 
 said the girl in a trembling voice. Ellen 
 started up. 
 
 In a few moments she again sat by a 
 sick-bed, and this time it was her child's. 
 Overwhelmed with grief and despair, she 
 listened to her child's short breath and 
 felt his hot brow. 
 
 "Elon's head aches," stammered the
 
 110 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAX. 
 
 boy, and reached his arms to his mother. 
 An hour later the doctor came. The boy 
 had the scarlet fever. 
 
 What a period of fearful anguish for 
 poor Ellen ! It seemed to her that she 
 could have borne all patiently, that she 
 could have submitted to anything, if she 
 had only been allowed to keep her child. 
 But while she prayed to God so fervently 
 not to take her darling from her, she 
 bowed her heart humbly before the Di- 
 vine will, and thought, " Father, not my 
 wilt, but thine be done " ; and the Supreme 
 Being took little Elon from this life and 
 folded him in his fatherly arms. 
 
 The senior Ochard was not yet buried 
 when his grandson's child-soul took 
 wings and ascended to its true home. 
 
 Completely crushed by sorrow, the 
 mother clasped the little cold corpse to 
 her heart, as if to warm and revive it 
 with her kisses and caresses. No tears 
 came to relieve the most boundless of 
 all grief, that of a mother who loves 
 her child. 
 
 Without a sound Ellen rose when they 
 told her that she must part with her 
 child's lifeless form. She kissed it once 
 more on the pale brow, and whispered 
 with clasped hands, 
 
 " The Lord gave and the Lord takes. 
 His will be done ! " 
 
 In the evening Uno wrote the follow- 
 ing letter to Evert : 
 
 " MY DEAR OCHARD : I ought to have 
 sent you the enclosed letter from your 
 father a week ago, according to the 
 charge he gave me on his death-bed. He 
 was struck with paralysis while writing 
 it, so terribly was he affected by the con- 
 sciousness that his son had not only sac- 
 rificed his whole life and fortune, and his 
 
 wife and child's future, but, what is worst 
 of all, his honor and his conscience, all to 
 satisfy the paltry claims of a miserable 
 vanity. You have through this been the 
 cause of your father's death ; but this is 
 not all. You have no longer a child, 
 and will probably lose your wife also, 
 who, prostrated by sorrow and grief, lies 
 dangerously ill. If there is a spark of 
 honor and manliness yet left in you, stop 
 in your wretched career, and do not con- 
 tinue a life which has been the cause of 
 so much sorrow and cost such immense 
 sacrifices. You could have been your 
 father's pride, your wife's happiness, if 
 you had not, in your heedless desire for 
 the flattery of fools, sacrificed everything 
 that an upright man considers sacred. 
 See to it that you preserve the words 
 of your departed father in your heart, 
 and take care not to forget how much 
 your frivolity has cost your wife ; for 
 then I might feel the desire to remind 
 you of it more forcibly. 
 
 "UNO'KERXER." 
 
 ONE YEAR LATER. 
 
 The September sun shone mildly over 
 the Lbda estate On a slope in the 
 park lay a young woman, with her 
 dreamy and melnncholy gaze fixed upon 
 the fast-retreating clouds. A deep sub- 
 mission could be read in the pale fea- 
 tures, and one saw that she had ceased 
 to hope anything from this world. Her 
 look expressed a thoughtfulness which 
 showed plainly that her sorrow had .led 
 her to deep and serious reflections upon 
 life. We scarcely need to say that this 
 woman was Ellen. A little over a year 
 had elapsed since she lost her child. 
 She was spending the summer at Lbda 
 with the Kerners, while Count Rubens 
 remained abroad with his newly married 
 daughter. 
 
 Evert had not yet returned from his
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 Ill 
 
 foreign journey, as he had fallen ill at 
 the intelligence of the death of his father 
 and child, and after his recovery had 
 been compelled to go to Italy in order 
 completely to restore his weak health. 
 
 Ellen was so absorbed in the contem- 
 plation of the sky, that she did not hear 
 the sound of steps which approached. 
 She started when a sonorous manly voice 
 said, 
 
 " Ellen, I bring a letter with me, 
 therefore I have sought you." 
 
 She turned toward the one who ad- 
 dressed her. 
 
 " Ah ! Uncle Oscar, how good you are ! 
 From Evert, is it not ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is." , Count Oscar Kerner 
 threw himself down in the grass at a 
 little distance from Ellen, and handed 
 her the letter. He continued : " To be 
 frank, that was not the reason why I 
 sought you, but in order to say to you 
 some friendly words." 
 
 "You have always been such a good 
 friend to me, Uncle." She gave him her 
 hand. 
 
 " It seems to me that you abandon 
 yourself to your sorrow too much. You 
 allow it to govern you exclusively, and 
 that is not right in a Christian, who 
 ought to bow beneath trial with patience 
 and submission. You are still young, 
 and have much to live for." 
 
 " Not much, Uncle ; but I ought to 
 live, because it is God's will, and I shall 
 hereafter, as hitherto, bear my loss with- 
 out repining or complaint, fully con- 
 vinced that if God had considered me 
 worthy to keep my child, he would have 
 allowed it to live. I bend beneath his 
 will." 
 
 "Yes, you bend, but without endeav- 
 oring to raise yourself again." 
 
 "For that I lack strength." A tear 
 ran down her cheek. 
 
 " It will not be so, if you consider 
 how many duties you have as a wife yet 
 unfulfilled." 
 
 "I shall try to perform them. If I 
 
 cannot, it will not be from lack of will, 
 but of power." 
 
 " You have entered upon a wrong 
 road. You are humble ; but an inactive 
 humility is not right. Take a look at 
 your present position. You have a hus- 
 band, weak, vain, and foolish, it is true ; 
 but if you continue with this indifference 
 to conform to his will, he will forget the 
 impression which the loss of his father 
 and child made upon him, and at his 
 return here again will begin that extrava- 
 gant manner of life, the result of which 
 has been that out of your whole fortune 
 you only retain the little remnant which 
 was saved through your prudence and 
 resolution. No, you have an aim, a 
 beautiful, a glorious aim, which you ought 
 to strive with full soul-strength to attain, 
 and that is, to endeavor so to guide your 
 husband that he may aspire towards a 
 nobler satisfaction for his vanity than the 
 one which he has hitherto sought." 
 
 " So did I once think ; but I was mis- 
 taken. All my efforts continued without 
 effect upon him. I no longer entertain 
 any hope of being able to save him. 
 All ! I was so happy as long as I hoped, 
 but when " 
 
 " But the occurrence with the note 
 shook your faith 1 " 
 
 Ellen started and looked at him. 
 
 "Who has mentioned that 1 ?" 
 
 " The one who was witness to the 
 scene between you and Jonathan." 
 
 " Uno ! " 
 
 "But he has not spoken of it to any 
 one except me. Necessity forced him to 
 it, when your illness made it indispensa- 
 ble for some one to take charge of your 
 affairs. I did it, as you know, xmder 
 the full conviction that you wished it all 
 to be done without notice, and without 
 exciting Emy's anxiety. In order that I 
 should be able to accomplish this, and to 
 give me a plain idea of your situation, 
 Uno told me what he knew. Well, then, 
 now be the one, in spite of all Ochard's 
 faults, to enlighten him with your clear
 
 112 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 understanding in regard to the way 
 which he ought to choose, when, erelong, 
 he returns and is again surrounded by 
 flatterers who mislead his judgment. 
 The letter which his father wrote, and 
 the news of your illness and the death 
 of his child, seem to have had an effect 
 upon him, for since his sickness he has 
 lived both a retired and economical life. 
 Your future depends upon the influence 
 which you can acquire over him on his 
 return. Do not let an unreasonable sor- 
 row make you forget your duty." 
 
 Ellen had listened to the Count's 
 words with a thoughtful aspect. When 
 he finished, she gave him her hand and 
 said, 
 
 " I shall imprint your words deep in 
 my memory, and try to suit my conduct 
 to them. Would to God that I could 
 once more hope ! " 
 
 " We can always hope, and ought to 
 do so." 
 
 " Yes, in God j but not depend upon 
 ourselves." 
 
 " If you hope with full trust in God, 
 you will also find courage and strength 
 to fulfil the charge which he has laid 
 upon you." 
 
 " I will endeavor to do this." 
 
 " Good, then I am content. I will 
 now leave you, that you may read your 
 husband's letter undisturbed." 
 
 In the afternoon of the same day 
 Ellen and Uno, who was also spending 
 the summer at Loda, sat out on the ter- 
 race. Ellen's face was calmer and less 
 sad than usual. 
 
 "How changed everything is in the 
 space of a few years," said Uno. " I re- 
 member so clearly our first visit here, 
 and especially one afternoon when we 
 sat together on this very terrace. You 
 then made a hard accusation against me. 
 Nine years have elapsed since then, and 
 both you and I have obtained an entire- 
 
 ly different view of life. The only 
 unchangeable things in this world are 
 our feelings." 
 
 "I even doubt their steadfastness," 
 said Ellen. " They shift and change 
 color with an ease which troubles me." 
 
 " Not the deep and real feelings, only 
 the false." 
 
 " And which are the real ] " 
 
 " A mother's love for her child never 
 changes, neither does the feeling of love 
 and admiration which a high-minded and 
 noble woman inspires." 
 
 "The same woman who appears to 
 one high-minded is in the eyes of an- 
 other weak. The only thing stable in 
 life is instability." 
 
 " So you do not believe in the stabili- 
 ty of love 1 " 
 
 " Yes, if it is real. But we so often 
 take the enthusiasm of the moment for 
 love. We confound the false and the 
 true so easily." 
 
 " Yes, we certainly confound the false 
 with the true very often. But why ] 
 Because we allow ourselves to be bound 
 and governed by prejudices. So, for ex- 
 ample, you consider it your duty to 
 dismiss every feeling which might warm 
 and cheer your heart, by reserving your 
 attachment exclusively for your hus- 
 band." 
 
 "And this is no false conception of 
 my duty." 
 
 "But false in its basis, because the 
 whole power of your will is not able to 
 exclude the need of love from your 
 heart." 
 
 " My heart needs no other object than 
 the mate whom I have chosen of free 
 will." 
 
 " We do not love the one whom we do 
 not respect, and you cannot do other-: 
 wise than despise your husband." 
 
 " Uno ! " Ellen looked at him sternly, 
 while his gaze rested on her with a pas- 
 sionate expression. 
 
 " Ellen, you must hear the truth. I 
 have neither will nor desire to keep it
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 113 
 
 longer to myself, and why should 1 1 I 
 love you warmly and eternally ; I have 
 loved you ever since I first saw you. 
 My reverence for you has held back every 
 declaration, and when such words once 
 slipped over my lips, your will was suf- 
 ficient to send me from you. My love 
 was too strong, however, and I returned 
 to breathe the same air that you breathe, 
 to live at least in the moment when I 
 saw you. Ah ! Ellen, Ellen, how have I 
 suffered ; and what is my reward 1 Shall 
 then this man, without honor and feeling, 
 also deprive me of the only felicity which 
 can be mine, that of knowing that your 
 heart has a spark of the love which is 
 at once my torment and my bliss 1 Be 
 true for once, express what your heart 
 conceals ; I will then remain still, and 
 never shall a word of my feelings pass 
 my lips. Happy in the consciousness 
 of being loved by you, I shall feel con- 
 tent with only being allowed to tarry in 
 your vicinity, because I shall then know 
 that our hearts beat with the same feel- 
 ing. Whom would it really offend 1 ? 
 Say, Ellen, could even the angels frown 
 upon it?" 
 
 " God would," said Ellen slowly, and 
 leaned back against the seat. 
 
 " Do not name God ! " exclaimed Uno 
 passionately ; " love, the pure, the true, 
 cannot excite his anger. Why continu- 
 ally shun the truth ] I know that you 
 love me ; why then not have courage to 
 confess it 1 " 
 
 " Very well, Uno, I shall have the 
 cruel courage to utter the truth before 
 you. You desire it, may you have it as 
 you wish. You ask me, the married 
 woman, to acknowledge a love for you, 
 which if it existed would be my disgrace. 
 You command me to taste the forbidden 
 fruit, and yet you said just now, 'We 
 cannot love the one whom we do not re- 
 spect,' and you wish me to make myself 
 contemptible. Go ; Uno, I do not believe 
 in your love ; for had it been pure and 
 strong, from respect to me you would 
 
 never have demanded that I should de- 
 grade myself out of weakness for you." 
 She rose and left him, without his try- 
 ing to hinder her. 
 
 The next day Count Oscar proposed 
 that they should all ride to Holmvik, as 
 Couut Rubens had that day returned 
 from his journey abroad. The proposal 
 was accepted, and directly after dinner 
 the little cavalcade was in motion. The 
 Count and Countess rode first, Ellen and 
 Uno following. Alma and her betrothed 
 had ridden over to Holmvik in the morn- 
 ing. Sappho, who loved a fast ride, gave 
 her horse free rein, so that she and Os- 
 car were soon far ahead of Ellen and Uno. 
 As they entered the woods, a dog in pur- 
 suit of a hare came running out, and 
 crossed the road right before their horses. 
 Frightened by this, Ellen's horse reared, 
 and Uno's made such a sudden spring to 
 the side, that the Count, who was entirely 
 unprepared for this motion, was thrown 
 from the saddle. The horse, freed from 
 his burden, dashed on, leaving his rider 
 senseless- on the ground. With one 
 bound Ellen was at his side. She called 
 to Sappho and Oscar as loud as she could, 
 but they did not hear her. Kneeling by 
 the fainting man, with his head pressed 
 against her heart, she tried to recall him 
 to consciousness by rubbing his temples. 
 At last a sigh heaved his breast, and he 
 opened his eyes. 
 
 " Uno, speak, say a word, a single 
 word, that you are not hurt," said Ellen, " 
 in a voice full of anguish. 
 
 He closed his eyes as if some violent 
 pain had forced him to do it. 
 
 " Uno, my beloved," faltered Ellen, as 
 he remained motionless. These words, 
 uttered in a tone of grief and despair, 
 seemed to exert a magic influence upon 
 him ; for he looked up immediately with 
 a glance which made her tremble. 
 
 " How are you ? " whispered she. -4r
 
 114 
 
 THE WIFE OP A VAIN MAN. 
 
 "Well. 0, that I might now die; 
 you would then not have time to take 
 back your words." 
 
 " I shall not take them back," replied 
 she, while a flood of tears washed her 
 cheeks when she saw him become still 
 paler. 
 
 Oscar and Sappho now reached the 
 spot. The loose horse had run past them 
 and made them turn back. 
 
 Uno had struck his head in falling and 
 sprained his arm, so that he was obliged 
 to go back to Loda. 
 
 A week after this event Ellen entered 
 the saloon, where Uno sat with his arm 
 in a sling. The Kerners had gone to 
 pay a visit. 
 
 " Why, Ellen ! " He reached her his 
 well hand. " I thought that you were 
 away with the others." 
 
 " No, Uno, I stayed at home, because 
 an explanation must take place between 
 us." 
 
 "You come to take back the words 
 which your fright drew forth; is it not 
 so?" 
 
 " I never take back any words which 
 go over my lips. If the truth has, against 
 my will, forced its way from the depth of 
 my heart, I will never contradict it." 
 
 " 0, s"ay that once more ! Say that 
 you love me ! Let me again hear these 
 words, which contain all that life has for 
 me of felicity," exclaimed Uno with trans- 
 port, and covered her hand with kisses. 
 But she drew it away with a gesture full 
 of noble dignity. 
 
 " Yes, I love you as I ought never to 
 love any one but my husband," said she 
 with deep seriousness. As Uno made a 
 movement to take her hand again, she 
 raised it with a warding-off gesture, and 
 continued : " Hear me, and be still. I 
 am not one of those women, who in a 
 forbidden love seek a recompense for the 
 self-deception which blinded them. No, 
 
 the acknowledgment that I love you in- 
 volves an eternal separation." 
 
 " Never, never shall I part with you. 
 No, I will follow you like your shadow, 
 as silent and faithful." 
 
 " And make my life a curse to me. 
 No ; you would then no longer be dan- 
 gerous to my heart, for I should consider 
 you a pitiful slave to a selfish passion. 
 You would no longer be the man of hon- 
 or whom I esteemed, if yoxi pursued a 
 woman who, in an unguarded moment, had 
 let you perceive the feeling which she 
 regarded as a crime. Listen to what I 
 now have to say to you : in my heart I 
 have betrayed the faith which I owed my 
 husband. Do not make me more unhap- 
 py than I already am in the conscious- 
 ness of my guilt by staying near me and 
 constantly reminding me that there is 
 one person who can think, This woman 
 is in heart a faithless wife. Be magnan- 
 imous, and put a distance between us 
 sufficiently great for me to be able to 
 struggle with and conquer a weakness 
 which I shall regret until my death." 
 
 " And if I lack strength for this ! " said 
 Uno in a smothered voice. "0 Ellen, 
 ask anything else, but grant me at least 
 the happiness of seeing you ! " 
 
 " No. This secret consciousness on 
 each side would contain such a cruel dis- 
 grace for the man whose wife I am, that 
 I myself shall have the courage which 
 you lack, and raise an insurmountable 
 wall between us. On my knees at his 
 feet I will Confess my fault, and then fly 
 far hence." 
 
 " Well then, I will go back to Spain. 
 0, may God make you as happy as you 
 deserve ! " 
 
 "And I desire," added an agitated 
 voice behind them. Uno sprang up and 
 Ellen turned round. Evert stood before 
 them, with a pale and disordered aspect. 
 When Ellen saw her husband, she reached 
 both hands to him with an expression of 
 so much mild humility, that it drew 
 tears from Uno's and Evert's eyes. The
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 115 
 
 latter sprang forward and clasped her to 
 his breast, stammering, 
 
 " Forgive the cause of all that you 
 have suffered ! of all that has happened ! 
 I know that I alone am guilty." 
 
 " How easy to forgive, when we need 
 forgiveness ourselves ! " whispered Ellen, 
 weeping, with her head leaning against 
 her husband's breast. 
 
 In the space of a few days Ellen and 
 Evert sat in their abode in Stockholm. 
 
 " Ah ! Ellen, with what a chain of sor- 
 rows have I not weighed you down ; 
 how have I not embittered your life, and 
 through my weakness estranged your 
 heart from me, destroyed your property, 
 and yet felt incensed against you for try- 
 ing to check me." 
 
 "All is forgotten and atoned for if you 
 only love me sufficiently not to allow your- 
 self to be tempted to neglect me for the 
 world's pleasures and flattery. We are 
 still young, happiness may yet bloom for 
 us." 
 
 " You good, incomparable wife ! " said 
 Evert, and kissed her hand. But Ellen 
 saw that there was a constraint in his 
 very heartiness, a certain fear, the origin 
 of which she with her natural fine feeling 
 divined. She took one of his hands and 
 folded it in both hers, saying with inde- 
 scribable gentleness, 
 
 " Evert, I read your, heart and find 
 that you do not rightly know how we are 
 to regulate our life henceforth. You fear 
 that I wish to lay down laws for yon, 
 but you are mistaken. I have cancelled 
 our marriage settlement, for I saw that 
 this division of property is a cause of 
 dissension and occasions much evil." 
 
 "Ellen, what magnanimity, after all 
 that has occurred ! " 
 
 " After all that has transpired I hope 
 that you will not resume a manner of 
 life which has been the source of so much 
 sorrow for us both." 
 
 " But my present position does not al- 
 low me to to lead a retired life." 
 
 " Neither do I require it ; but there is 
 a great difference between living in the 
 world and shining in the world. Your 
 pecuniary condition and your place in the 
 community demand that you shall not 
 lead an altogether retired life ; but your 
 dignity as a man and office-holder would 
 suffer if you went back to your former 
 life, which would also be attended with 
 complete financial ruin. Your vanity 
 must not for the praise of the moment 
 sacrifice the greater and more important 
 aim, which you ought to have before 
 your eyes, namely, to stand forth as an 
 active and useful member of society." 
 
 Ellen struck a new chord in the vain 
 man's heart with these words. Yes, he 
 would appear as one who had received 
 from the state so many and so important 
 affairs to attend to, that every moment 
 of his precious time was taken up, and 
 he could only devote a few very brief mo- 
 ments to society. 
 
 The office which he held was especially 
 well suited to the role of this important 
 person. His vanity had changed garb, 
 but denied itself never. It had now taken 
 upon itself a form which in its conse- 
 quences became no less oppressive to 
 Ellen, but which was at least less haz- 
 ardous for the future Still, there was 
 now much to reconcile her to her hus- 
 band's boasting, as he discharged his 
 duties in a highly meritorious manner 
 and sought for his associates persons of 
 knowledge and culture. He wished, 
 through such association, to show the 
 world his superiority. Besides, he spent 
 more of his time at home, and Ellen, with 
 her superior intellect, her clear insight, 
 and fine womanly judgment, was often 
 the one who guided his actions. 
 
 Ellen herself had again appeared as an 
 authoress, and through her success and 
 fame wove many a leaf in the laurel 
 wreath for which Evert was striving. 
 How much this cold life, founded solely
 
 116 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 on reaping honor, cost Ellen, who longed 
 so intensely for quiet domestic happiness, 
 her husband did not suspect. He never 
 spoke of anything when they were alone 
 except the success which he enjoyed, and 
 the applause bestowed upon him for his 
 ability. No word of love or tenderness 
 ever passed his lips ; only now and then 
 a remark about how important she was 
 to him, and how much she contributed to 
 make his name noted. 
 
 How Ellen's heart froze in this home, 
 at the side of this man ! But she bore 
 her fate with a fortitude and a strength 
 which were admirable. 
 
 Five years elapsed thus. The courted 
 and praised Ochard enjoyed general re- 
 spect and distinction as a functionary 
 who performed his duties with so much 
 skill, zeal, and ability, that he was re- 
 garded as a richly endowed and deserving 
 man. 
 
 Proud of the success which attended 
 him, relying blindly on his good fortune, 
 Evert advanced arrogantly on the road 
 of prosperity. 
 
 One day when he had obtained a new 
 and honorable promotion, and came home 
 elated over his success, he felt suddenly 
 indisposed. In spite of Ellen's earnest 
 entreaty that he should send for a phy- 
 sician and remain at home, he went in- 
 stead to a grand supper. On the way 
 he felt so ill, that he was on the point 
 of turning back as he was ascending the 
 steps; but the thought of all the con- 
 gratulations and praise which awaited 
 him in consequence of his nomination, 
 was altogether too tempting for him to 
 have courage to renounce it. 
 
 Two hours after his departure Ellen 
 heard the carriage stop at the door, and 
 in a few moments Evert entered the 
 saloon with a staggering step and a 
 deathly pale countenance. 
 
 " I was so sick that I was obliged to 
 leave the company," said he, and threw 
 himself down on a sofa, pressing both 
 hands on his head. 
 
 The physician declared that Ochard 
 had taken a violent cold. 
 
 The man, spoiled by prosperity, was 
 now compelled to take to his bed and 
 exchange all the flattery and praise which 
 had constituted his happiness for a couch 
 of pain, to which not a single one of his 
 many friends came; for the doctor de- 
 clared, three days after he was attacked, 
 that the patient had the small-pox. His 
 handsome face was soon fearfully dis- 
 figured. His wife did not leave his side 
 for a moment, but sat there as his com- 
 forter in this bitter trial. Suddenly the 
 illness changed character and seemed to 
 take a turn which put his life in danger. 
 
 The doctor said to Ellen at one of his 
 visits, 
 
 "You must prepare yourself for the 
 worst ; your husband's condition is very 
 critical." 
 
 One evening when the fever had some- 
 what abated and Evert could understand 
 her, Ellen tried in her mild and loving 
 way to prepare him for the possibility 
 that he might die. He listened to her 
 in silence ; when she finished and pressed 
 his hand in tears, he murmured, 
 
 " A looking-glass ! " 
 
 Ellen tried to persuade him to refrain 
 from looking at himself; but he cried 
 with great impatience, 
 
 "A glass!" 
 
 Just then the physician entered ; and 
 not knowing so well as Ellen what 
 a high value Ochard set on his appear- 
 ance, he seized a little hand-glass and 
 held it before him. Scarcely had Ev- 
 ert thrown a glance in it, before he 
 uttered a cry of despair. In the night 
 the fever increased, and the follow- 
 ing day the physician no longer gave 
 any hope of his recovery. Once, in a 
 lucid moment, Evert called to his wife, 
 and when she bent down over him he 
 whispered, 
 
 " Promise to write my my - obit- 
 uary. A distinguished man so do I 
 wish you to call me. Ellen, prom-
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 117 
 
 ise promise to write it so that 
 
 you do me justice " 
 " I promise," faltered she. 
 
 " Do not show my face no one 
 
 no one must be allowed to see it 
 
 promise " 
 
 " All shall be as you desire," whispered 
 she in tears. 
 
 " A large funeral in carriages. All 
 
 the councillors all from the higher 
 
 circles. The obsequies in the 
 church of of " 
 
 The words died away, they were his last. 
 
 Five years had gone over Evert of 
 Ochard's grave and effaced his memory 
 from the hearts of his friends. This 
 name, of which he had wished to make 
 so much, was forgotten ; and only when 
 some acquaintance visited the new church- 
 yard and read the words on the stately 
 monument, was the passing remark made : 
 " Is it here that Ochard is buried ? He 
 was a vain fool all his days ! " And with 
 this they said all that they had to say 
 about him. 
 
 We will do like the world, leave him 
 to oblivion and the grave, and transport 
 ourselves to a more enlivening spot than 
 the resting-place of the dead. 
 
 The sun cast friendly beams upon the 
 beautiful Akershof, Count Uno Kerner's 
 estate. In the wide-spread park, at a 
 place where one had a free prospect over 
 the sea, a man and woman were sitting 
 at each other's side, he of about fifty, 
 she forty years of age. Both their faces 
 wore that expression of quiet peace which 
 domestic happiness calls forth. She 
 leaned her head against his shoulder, 
 while her hand softly caressed a child, 
 which slumbered in the mother's lap. 
 The man's arm was twined around his 
 wife's waist, and both seemed absorbed 
 in that peculiar feeling of dreamy feli- 
 city which the beauties of nature produce 
 in a happy heart. 
 
 " Do you know, Ellen, what day it is 
 to-day 1 " asked the man and pressed her 
 faithfully to his heart. 
 
 " Our little boy's second birthday, " 
 said Ellen looking at him with a loving 
 glance. 
 
 " And our fourth anniversary. Three 
 have already gone by since we were uni- 
 ted, but is our love any weaker to-day 
 than three years ago 1 ? Say, Ellen, do I 
 love you less now than then 1 " 
 
 " No, you love me more than ever, 
 and I feel more closely united to you 
 every day. 0, how deeply, how bound- 
 lessly do I love you, my noble mate ! " 
 
 "And yet how unobserved have our 
 lives passed ! " 
 
 " Domestic happiness is more complete 
 the more it is separated from the world's 
 bustle and folly. Ah ! my beloved Uno, 
 how rich in true happiness have not 
 these three last years been ; yet I often 
 fear that it is too great and that I do 
 not deserve it." 
 
 " You not deserve your happiness, you 
 tender, devoted, high-minded woman, 
 who with so much courage and fortitude 
 struggled with every weakness at the 
 time when your life was an unceasing 
 trial ! I often fear, on the contrary, that 
 I shall not be able to make you as 
 happy as I desire, and as you deserve 
 to be." 
 
 So Ellen had at last, after so many 
 bitter trials, seen her beautiful golden 
 dream of domestic bliss realized, and 
 Providence had given her a rich recom- 
 pense for the period in which she felt so 
 disappointed in life and in her hopes, 
 through the love which now surrounded 
 her and filled her heart. How rich she 
 now was ! She had a mate who adored her 
 and whom she loved with all the devo- 
 tion of her nature. She had a blooming 
 and beautiful child, and a charming 
 home in the midst of lovely scenery. 
 Everything around and within her con- 
 tributed to make her as perfectly happy 
 as one can be here on earth.
 
 118 
 
 THE WIFE OF A VAIN MAN. 
 
 Countess Emy Rubens had the satis- 
 faction of seeing her foster-daughter as 
 happy as her own child. She felt grate- 
 ful to Providence for bestowing upon her 
 the greatest comfort which can come to 
 a mother, that of seeing her children 
 happy and deserving to be so. 
 
 Alma Kerner had been married to 
 Henrico four years, and the Kerners also 
 
 had the joy of witnessing their daugh- 
 ter's happiness. 
 
 In society, where Ellen had no longer 
 been seen since Ochard's death, she was 
 as completely forgotten as her departed 
 husband. New actors on the stage of 
 folly drew the general attention, to be 
 forgotten in a few years like Ellen and 
 Evert.
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KEEUZNACH,
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 ONE beautiful evening in the beginning 
 of July, 18G2, I arrived at Kreuzuach. 
 
 The place is surrounded on three sides 
 by moimtains whose terrace-like ledges 
 are covered with luxuriant grapevines. 
 A fine fruit-bearing plain extends east- 
 ward for the distance of a mile, finding 
 its boundary at the foot of a picturesque 
 chain of hills. The river Nahe flows 
 through the town, dividing it into two 
 parts, the new and the old.* 
 
 The region around Kreuznach seems 
 to have been known to the Romans? and 
 it is said that in the time of Claudius 
 Drusus, twelve years before Christ, they 
 built a castle in Bingen for the protection 
 of their military settlement ; the walls 
 near the town are supposed to be their 
 work. Somewhat later the Germans be- 
 came the rulers of the territory, until 
 they were also driven away, in the ygar 
 4*49, by the Frank, King Clodwig. Kreuz- 
 nach must have received its name and 
 origin simultaneously with this eve.nt, 
 according to the tradition, from a cross 
 which was raised on the island. 
 . " The monks came on a pilgrimage to 
 the island through the forest," says the 
 story, converting both old and young to 
 the cross by means of the cross." A 
 town rose where only huts had stood be- 
 fore, and this town was called Kreuznach, 
 after the cross on the island. 
 
 It is said that Ludwig the Pious some- 
 times resided in Kreuznach ; but it is not 
 known, however, where the palace, the 
 so-called Osterburg, stood, for it was de- 
 stroyed in the year 893 by the Normans. 
 
 During the Thirty Years' War the town 
 
 was several times in danger of being 
 razed to the ground. Tu the year 1620 
 it was blockaded by the Spaniards; ind 
 1631 it was hard pressed by Gustavus, 
 the second Adolphus, and in 1639 was 
 taken by storm by Duke Bernhard of 
 Weimar, the leader of the Swedish Army. 
 
 Kreuznach in its appearance, its many 
 narrow, crooked streets, and old-fashioned 
 buildings, presents nothing inviting to 
 the strangers who flock there from all 
 countries in the summer for the sake of 
 the waters. The only thing noteworthy 
 is the cross in the " Wirthkirche." 
 
 What the town lacks in regard to the 
 style of its edifices is made up by its en- 
 virons, which, with the varied and beau- 
 tiful scenery, make Kreuznach one of the 
 pleasantest of places. 
 
 On the so-called island is found the 
 spring, from which the countless guests 
 believe that they derive health and 
 strength. It has received the name of 
 Elisabeth's Spring. 
 
 It was a sunny morning, the day after 
 my arrival at Kreuznach, when I also 
 presented myself at the spring, with a 
 cup, to commence my drinking. The 
 place swarmed with people. All possible 
 tongues were spoken there. They drank 
 the salt water, promenaded, puffed, or 
 listened to the music. Coteries of dif- 
 ferent nations were formed here and 
 there. 
 
 In one place a number of Frenchmen 
 had gathered around the beautiful and 
 
 elegant Madame N , who was born 
 
 in France and married to a Hollander. 
 There again the homely,, but richly
 
 122 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 dressed Princess G sky, from Moscow, 
 
 was promenading; and the lively Mar- 
 quise D laughed and chatted with 
 
 her companions ; while Lady H quite 
 
 seriously and with English dignity con- 
 versed with some countrymen. A little 
 farther on a lady and two gentlemen had 
 stopped in the midst of their promenade 
 to devour with intense interest the con- 
 tents of a newspaper which communicat- 
 ed fresh intelligence from America, their 
 native laud. At some yards' distance from 
 them the name of Garibaldi was men- 
 tioned by two Italians, with glowing en- 
 thusiasm; and there, quite near the spring, 
 stand several Swedes who empty their 
 glasses with becoming sobriety, while a 
 troop of Germans hasten past them ex- 
 pressing their delight over Kreuznach's 
 lounderschdne scenery. 
 
 With my head in a whirl from the 
 crowd and the Babel of tongues, I turned 
 away from the place and took the road 
 ito the left, which goes down to the bank 
 of the Nahe. 
 
 J walked slowly, and stopped ever and 
 sanon to contemplate the vine-clad hills 
 on the other side of the river, which 
 stood there as if on guard to protect 
 with their strong arms the vale in which 
 Kreuznach is situated. 
 
 When I had come to the end of the 
 road at the point where it joins one of 
 the streets of the town, I turned ; but 
 found myself at this opposite two ladies, 
 one elderly, the other quite young. 
 
 There are faces which at the first 
 glance make an ineffaceable impression. 
 Such a face was that of the elder lady. 
 It did not strike me by its beauty or 
 the traces of past loveliness, but through 
 the character which was stamped upon 
 it. 
 
 Every feature, every line, told that her 
 life had been devastated by some storm 
 that had swept over it. 
 
 The young girl, who walked at her 
 side, chatted and laughed with the un- 
 concern of youth. I did not hear what 
 
 she said, but I saw the elder lady smile 
 at the winning child. That smile con- 
 tained a whole biography. It lay on the 
 lips, but did not proceed from the heart. 
 It was gentle, and yet cold; kind, and yet 
 sad. 
 
 The next morning, when all again as- 
 sembled at the spring, I looked among 
 the throng for the person who had awa- 
 kened so lively an interest in me the day 
 before. I soon found the one I sought. 
 When her companion, the young girl, 
 had emptied her glass, they walked away 
 from the spring and turned off at the 
 road to the Nahe. I followed them, and 
 seated myself on one of the benches 
 which are placed there. They walked 
 back and forth, thus giving me an oppor- 
 tunity of studying the deeply melancholy 
 face. 
 
 While I followed them with my eyes, 
 I framed in thought the life-history of 
 the one whose appearance had so struck 
 my imagination. She had been unhap- 
 py as a mother. Death had snatched 
 away all her children, except this one, 
 who walked at her side, and for whom 
 she now endured the torment of life. 
 
 This was about the way I sketched her 
 past life, but without feeling satisfied, 
 however. The unknown was like a book, 
 the title of which excites curiosity, but 
 of whose contents one nevertheless stands 
 in ignorance. 
 
 After taking exercise for a while, they 
 returned to the spring, and at the same 
 moment some one rose from the bench 
 on which I was sitting. I now perceived 
 for the first time that a gentleman had 
 sat there. 
 
 He had a very singular appearance. 
 
 He was so sunburnt that his com- 
 plexion had become dark brown, which 
 it had certainly not been originally. The 
 hair was dark, yet had no shade of black, 
 and the abundant beard which covered 
 half his face was even light. The eyes 
 lay deep under a pair of bushy eyebrows 
 and looked fierce at first sight, but on a
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 123 
 
 nearer view one discovered that they 
 were very inild. 
 
 When he rose from the bench he 
 sighed deeply and followed the two 
 ladies to the spring. 
 
 Notwithstanding my zealous efforts, 
 several days elapsed without my being 
 able to learn their names. 
 
 I had in the mean time observed that 
 the above-described gentleman, like me, 
 could spend a long time in looking at 
 the elderly lady and her young com- 
 panion, or follow them at some distance 
 as if afraid of losing them from sight. 
 
 That this observation led me to the 
 conclusion that the man with the bushy 
 eyebrows, who seemed to be about forty 
 years of age, was in love with the young 
 maiden, is a matter of course. 
 
 Chance was however to bring me into 
 connection with the two ladies sooner 
 than I hoped, and place us quite unex- 
 pectedly on a familiar footing with each 
 other. 
 
 I was staying at the Weber hotel, 
 situated at the left hand as one crosses 
 the bridge leading from the promenade. 
 
 The Weber hotel is a fine large build- 
 ing, like most of the hotels in Kreuznach. 
 All the rooms were occupied by guests, 
 who came there for the waters and the 
 bathing. 
 
 Nobody takes any notice of his neigh- 
 bors abroad, but one is generally in 
 complete ignorance of their appearance 
 as well as their social position. 
 
 Late one evening, as I still remained 
 sitting on my balcony, I was disturbed 
 by some one who came rushing into my 
 room, and to my no slight surprise the 
 daughter of the lady who had so deeply 
 interested me stood before me. 
 
 In fine and fluent German she begged 
 me to come into their room, for one of the 
 neighbors had been taken sick with them. 
 
 I followed her, and was not a little 
 astonished when I found that we were 
 living not only in the same house, but 
 on the same floor. 
 
 When I entered their room the young 
 girl's mother was occupied with an old 
 lady, who writhed in convulsions on the 
 floor. 
 
 A physician was procured, and with 
 the assistance of the servants we had 
 the sick woman, an old Russian who re- 
 sided in the hotel, removed to her own 
 ro6m. 
 
 Through this occurrence our acquaint- 
 ance was formed. 
 
 The elder lady was a Frau Spindler 
 from Berlin, and the young girl a relative 
 of hers that she had adopted as her own 
 child. 
 
 She told me this much immediately. 
 They had come to Kreuznach for the 
 young Louise's sake, who was to go 
 through a cure. 
 
 When the acquaintance was fairly 
 made, we were daily and almost hourly 
 together ; and I can say that I have very 
 seldom been in connection with persons 
 who pleased me more than these two 
 strangers. 
 
 With regard to the man with the 
 fierce aspect, whom I continually found 
 in Louise's way, I obtained from a 
 countryman the information that he was 
 an English cosmopolite, who, after travel- 
 ling all around the world, had happened 
 to be attacked with the gout or some 
 such ailment, for which he was now stay- 
 ing at Kreuznach. 
 
 He was considered very wealthy, for 
 he literally strewed money around him. 
 Besides, he kept himself apart from the 
 rest of the company at the springs, and 
 it was utterly impossible to make his 
 acquaintance. 
 
 The days succeeded each other very 
 quickly, and I had soon been in Kreuz- 
 nach three weeks. Two more and I 
 should be obliged to part from my lovely 
 neighbors. 
 
 One day I said to Frau Spindler, 
 
 " Have you remarked that there is a 
 man here who is continually in your 
 and Louise's way ? "
 
 124 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH 
 
 " No, madam, I have not," she replied, 
 and looked at me. 
 
 " Turn round and cast a glance at the 
 bench there ; you will then discover him." 
 
 Frau Spindler did so ; but only be- 
 stowing a cursory look on the man, she 
 said, 
 
 " It is possible that he has been struck 
 by Louise's appearance, but he no longer 
 belongs to the age in which love plays any 
 part in life. He can consequently not be 
 dangerous to her." 
 
 This remark led us into a conversation 
 upon human passions. 
 
 Frau Spindler expressed herself in a 
 manner which gave a plain indication 
 that she had suffered very much from 
 them. 
 
 " Do you know, madam," said I, " be- 
 fore I became acquainted with you, your 
 appearance made so lively an impression 
 upon me, that I desired to possess the 
 power of reading the book of the past, 
 and of learning what your experience had 
 been. During taj progress of our ac- 
 quaintance this desire has increased, and 
 at the present moment I would give a 
 good deal to hear your life-history." 
 
 "And wherefore 1 ?" asked she with a 
 melancholy smile. 
 
 " Because the trials yo\i have passed 
 through have left their stamp upon your 
 face, ay, upon your whole' being." 
 
 "And if it were so, it would not be 
 strange." She sighed and added after a 
 short pause : u Before we separate I will 
 comply with your desire. I will relate 
 to you the short, but dreary story of my 
 life." 
 
 Here we were interrupted by Louise, 
 'who came to us. She had taken a long 
 walk with some young ladies from Berlin, 
 belonging to their acquaintance. 
 
 Two or three days after this, when 
 Louise had gone on a pleasure trip to 
 "Wiesbaden in company with these coun- 
 trywomen, Frau Spindler proposed that 
 she and I should make the long-spoken- 
 of, but continually deferred visit to- 
 
 Rheingrafenstein, a very remarkable ruin 
 an hour's distance from Kreuznach. I 
 eagerly accepted the proposal, but re- 
 gretted that Louise could not be with us, 
 as she had so desired to have a nearer 
 view of the ruin." 
 
 Frau Spindler replied to this remark of 
 mine, 
 
 " In my company Louise will never go 
 to Rheingrafenstein ; I have a prejudice 
 agaiust taking her there which you will 
 understand when you have visited the 
 place." 
 
 Of course I could have nothing to say 
 against this, and it was decided that we 
 should start directly after dinner. 
 
 The air was clear, the sun shone warm 
 and the wind slumbered on the tops of 
 the mountains, when our carriage rolled 
 away from Kreuznach, taking the road 
 to the right of Kuhberg through a thick 
 little wood which had been changed into 
 a park and decorated with small castles 
 and turrets. 
 
 Here we left our carriage and dis- 
 missed the coachman, as we were obliged 
 to continue our way on foot to Cans 
 Mountain, which we had decided to visit 
 first. 
 
 Cans, the highest peak in the moun- 
 tain ridge, guards Rheingrafenstein's 
 rocks, and is one of the innumerable wit- 
 nesses of God's greatness and might 
 which nature has to exhibit. It re- 
 minds of a time when our beautiful 
 planet had a different aspect from the 
 present. 
 
 Cans is a collection of isolated Plu- 
 tonic masses, which through some subter- 
 ranean power have been upheaved from 
 the earth's centre, and formed into these 
 gigantic crags upon its surface. 
 
 The view from this remarkable moun- 
 tain is enchanting beyond description. 
 
 At the foot of the towering rocks a 
 stream rushes forth to the beautiful 
 Miinster am Stein, and behind this Kau- 
 senberg and a part of Kreuznach appear. 
 To the right of Miinster you have the
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 125 
 
 mighty Rothenfels, with its innumerable 
 pinnacles, buttresses, and hollows, chang- 
 ing from red to green in all the various 
 shades. Farther away to the left you 
 behold Norheim, surrounded with its vine 
 hi!13, which as it were supports itself on 
 Rothenfels; the eyes and mind are then 
 chained by the ruins of Ebernburg. 
 Away in the distance and illumined by 
 the sun's rays are seen Johannesberg and 
 Wiesbaden. There is in all directions an 
 endless variety of woods, mountains, 
 thriving vineyards, blooming hillsides, 
 smiling dales, populous villages, and an- 
 tiquities from past ages. 
 
 The picture was beautiful, the impres- 
 sion striking, and the memory of it in- 
 delible. 
 
 When we had contemplated this grand 
 panorama a long time, we descended 
 Cans Mountain, and took the road to 
 the right leading to the summit upon 
 which Rheiugrafenstein's ruin is sit- 
 uated. 
 
 After a very fatiguing walk we found 
 ourselves at last upon the platform which 
 is formed over the ruins. 
 
 The amazement and surprise which 
 seizes the mind at the sight of these re- 
 mains of a castle, built upon the point of 
 a perpendicular rock and suspended as it 
 were over the abyss, cannot be rendered 
 in words. 
 
 Above the ruin, where it forms the 
 platform, a little cross of iron has been 
 erected. 
 
 My attention was so exclusively, en- 
 grossed by the prospect from the ruin, 
 that I had entirely forgotten to notice 
 my companion. 
 
 Finally I turned to her to make some 
 inquiries ; but these died away on my 
 lips, for I found her sunk down at the 
 foot of the little cross. She sat there as 
 if exhausted by fatigue, with her head 
 leaning on her hands. 
 
 "How are you? do you feel ill?" I 
 asked, frightened. 
 
 Frau Spindler raised her bowed head 
 
 and fastened her large soulful eyes on me, 
 saying quite faintly, 
 
 " It is nothing. Do not mind the 
 weakness which seizes me when I again 
 find myself here, after an interval of so 
 many years; here on the spot where I 
 played as a child, or listened to stories 
 about this castle. Ah, how happy I have 
 been here, and yet how miserable ! " 
 
 " You have thus lived in this region 1 " 
 said I. 
 
 " Yes, I was born in the valley at the 
 foot of this mountain." 
 
 A pause followed this answer. I did 
 not consider it right to ask my compan- 
 ion any further questions concerning her 
 earlier experience, but said in the course 
 of a few moments, 
 
 " Has this ruin no history 1 " 
 
 " yes, certainly, although it is very 
 incomplete ; but what is lacking in re- 
 spect to its history fiction has endeavored 
 to supply, for many and wonderful are 
 the legends related about these relics of 
 a strong and mighty castle. The actual 
 time of its erection is unknown. The 
 first authentic information we have of it 
 dates from the year 1282, when the 
 Counts of Rheingau, after the battle of 
 Sprendling and the destruction of their 
 stronghold Rheinberg, built Stein Castle 
 here. In spite of its apparent inac- 
 cessibility, the fort was several times 
 taken and destroyed by the enemy. 
 Rheingrafenstein's total demolition was 
 accomplished by the French in 1689, and 
 since then it has been a ruin, resembling 
 a dread phantom which guards the point 
 of the rock." 
 
 " And how do the stories run that are 
 told about this shade of the past 1 " 
 
 " There are too many of them to be 
 repeated," answered Frau Spindler ; " but 
 I will relate one to you which made a 
 certain impression on me when I was 
 young, and has had an influence on my 
 life. This story is so closely allied with 
 my sorrows, that I will in connection 
 with it tell my life-history, and thus
 
 126 
 
 A EEMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 fulfil rny promise to you. This place 
 seems fitting for it, if you have no 
 objection." 
 
 I assured her that the proposition 
 was particularly agreeable to me; and 
 when I had seated myself on a moss- 
 covered rock at a little distance from 
 her, she began her narrative, which we 
 will call 
 
 THE LEGEND OF RHEINGRAFEN- 
 STEIN. 
 
 I lost my parents early (began Frau 
 Selma Spindler). They lived down there 
 in Huthendalen, which lies beneath us at 
 the foot of the mountain. 
 
 When my parents died they left noth- 
 ing but debts behind them. 
 
 My Uncle Conrad Spindler, who re- 
 sided in the outskirts of the village off 
 there, and owned a large vineyard, pur- 
 chased my father's house and removed 
 to it. He then adopted his orphan 
 niece as his own child, and brought me 
 up with his two sons, Rolf and Gerhard. 
 Before I speak further of them, however, 
 I will tell you the story of the origin of 
 Rheingrafenstein. 
 
 While I was growing up, there was 
 in the valley another orphan girl by the 
 name of Gretchen, who was demented. 
 It was said that she had become so from 
 unhappy love. 
 
 She was the delight of all the chil- 
 dren, because she knew all the legends 
 about the ruins in this region, especially 
 Rheingrafenstein. 
 
 If any stranger came to the village, 
 then it was Gretchen who became his 
 guide and related everything credible 
 and incredible about the ruins. She was 
 also in the habit of spending whole days 
 up here, singing her songs about proud 
 knights and fair maidens. 
 
 I especially as a child had taken a 
 particular fancy to Gretchen, and when- 
 ever I saw her I followed her up here to 
 listen to some new story. 
 
 Among the many she related, the 
 one concerning the origin of Rheingra- 
 fenstein, made the deepest impression 
 upon me, and I could not often enough 
 hear it repeated by Gretchen, who on 
 her part seemed to be most intere'sted 
 in telling just this. It ran thus : 
 
 There was once, many hundred years 
 ago, a Rhine Count who was in strife 
 with the Archbishop of Meutz. During 
 these feuds he fell into such severe straits 
 that he was obliged to seek safety in 
 flight, and then came to the foot of the 
 rock upon which the ruins now stand. 
 Astonished at nature's mighty freak in 
 raising this perpendicular cliff, he ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 " Here I will have a castle ; I could 
 then defy the priests. But no mortal 
 would dare to ascend that rock, still less 
 build a stronghold there, unless the Devil 
 should serve him as a builder." 
 
 Scarcely were these words uttered 
 when Satan stood before the Count, 
 saying, 
 
 " I will help you, but with the condi- 
 tion that the first one whom I behold 
 through the window of the new castle 
 shall be my property." 
 
 The Count struggled in the begin- 
 ning against the temptation of gaining 
 an impregnable fastness on the summit 
 of the crag, but the Evil One finally 
 overcame his scruples. The contract was 
 made between them. 
 
 The next morning when the Count 
 awoke, his eyes fell on the mountain, 
 and lo and behold there stood a castle 
 whose turrets and pinnacles glittered in 
 the morning sun. Uncertain whether he 
 dreamed or was awake, be rubbed his 
 eyes, but the castle which Beelzebub and 
 his imps had raised during the night did 
 not disappear. 
 
 The Count then remembered the com- 
 pact that was made and a nameless 
 horror took possession of his soul. He 
 dared not enter the castle. 
 
 While overpowered by this anguish,
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 127 
 
 his wife came, in order to rescue her 
 husband from his difficulty by means of 
 a stratagem which she had devised. 
 
 She had done as women have been ac- 
 customed to do in all times, she had 
 listened to the conversation between her 
 husband and Satan, and resolved to cheat 
 the latter. 
 
 " My lord and consort," said she to the 
 amazed Count, " have no fear, but enter 
 your castle undauntedly ; I have already 
 attended to the Devil's steak." 
 
 Up the mountain, ahead of the Count, 
 hobbled an old ass, with a knight's man- 
 tle on his back, and a barret-cap over his 
 eyes. On coming in to the castle the 
 ass made directly for the window. 
 
 The Devil was thus fooled by a woman, 
 and was obliged to be content with the 
 ass ; but he swore that he would have 
 his revenge. 
 
 The first night the Count and his con- 
 sort slept within the walls of the castle, 
 Satan appeared to the latter, and accosted 
 her, 
 
 " You thought you could impose upon 
 me," said he, " but you shall learn that 
 it did not succeed. Within these walls 
 you will give birth to a daughter, who 
 in beauty and grace is destined to sur- 
 pass all the women of the land. At sev- 
 enteen years of age she shall be betrothed 
 to a noble knight, but the day before the 
 wedding she will be carried away, and if 
 you wish to find her, it must be in my 
 kingdom. This time you shall not de- 
 prive me of my property." 
 
 The years went by ; the Countess for- 
 got the Devil's words. She gave birth to 
 a daughter, who became beautiful as an 
 angel, and the pride of her parents. 
 
 At her birth the mother remembered 
 the dreadful prophecy, but as the girl 
 grew up it again fell into oblivion. 
 
 The fair Adelgunda was spoken of 
 far and wide for her beauty. The knights 
 came from all parts to win her love and 
 to compete for the prize of her hand ; but 
 they were obliged to return unheard. 
 
 Two noble knights then presented 
 themselves, nephews of her father. The 
 elder, Eberhard, came to ask Adelgun- 
 da's hand; the younger, Kuno, accom- 
 panied his brother. 
 
 Eberhard had a frank disposition, a 
 noble heart, and was known for his 
 bravery. Kuno was handsome and a 
 mighty bard, who charmed men and wo- 
 men with his songs. 
 
 When Eberhard asked for the beauti- 
 ful Adelgunda's hand, which her father 
 had previously promised him, he ob- 
 tained it of her without needing to ap- 
 peal to this promise, and the two were 
 betrothed. 
 
 Shortly afterwards Eberhard was called 
 away to take part in a feud with another 
 Rhine count. Kuno remained with his 
 brother's betrothed. 
 
 He sang of love both day and night ; 
 he knew how to clothe this feeling in ar- 
 dent words, and Adelgunda listened to 
 the songs and to the words until her own 
 heart was kindled by them and forgot 
 Eberhard. 
 
 Happy over his many victories, the 
 faithful lover returned to celebrate his 
 wedding with Adelgunda, whom he loved 
 with all his heart. 
 
 But Adelgunda's glance was shy and 
 her cheeks were pale ; she no longer 
 smiled at her lover. 
 
 Eberhard remarked that his betrothed 
 was not like herself, and he asked her 
 what it could be that troubled her young 
 life, begging her to tell him the truth. 
 But Adelgunda did not wish to confess 
 that her heart had betrayed its trust 
 and fallen under the influence of a. crimi-- 
 nal love for the brother of her betrothed^. 
 She replied that she was just the same as; 
 usual. 
 
 A banquet was to be given in the large 
 hall, the like of which had never been 
 seen before ; for the Count was now to 
 give his beautiful daughter in marriage. 
 
 The night before the wedding, Adel- 
 gunda's mother could not sleep A
 
 128 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 nameless anxiety had seized her heart. 
 At midnight she was still awake, and 
 then heai'd a voice which called her by 
 name. She raised herself quickly and 
 looked in the direction from whence the 
 voice came. The Holy Virgin stood be- 
 fore her and addressed her thus, 
 
 " Unhappy woman, how have you 
 watched over your child when you al- 
 lowed her to enter upon the road which 
 leads to destruction? Stand up, weak 
 mother, go to your daughter and see 
 what has become of her." 
 
 The Holy Mother disappeared, and the 
 Count's wife, who had entirely* forgotten 
 the trick she played Satan and the re- 
 venge he swore to take upon her, awa- 
 kened her consort and told him of the 
 apparition. The Count smiled at it and 
 said that she dreamed, after which he 
 turned to the wall and went to sleep. 
 
 The Countess could not follow his ex- 
 ample, but left her bed quickly and hur- 
 ried to the maiden's chamber. 
 
 As she reached the room she heard 
 the clash of weapons within. She threw 
 open the door and her amazed eyes met a 
 spectacle terrible to behold. Eberhard 
 and Kuno were engaged in a desperate 
 conflict with each other. Adelgunda lay 
 in a swoon in a corner of the room. The 
 unhappy mother uttered a shriek of hor- 
 ror. At the same moment Kuno's sword 
 pierced his brother's heart. The unfor- 
 tunate mother saw no more, but as she 
 fell to the floor she heard a heart-rending 
 cry from her daughter, and Satan's voice, 
 which said to her, 
 
 " Your daughter has broken her faith, 
 has loved both brothers, and been the 
 cause of this quarrel and fratricide ; now 
 she belongs to me." 
 
 A sulphureous vapor filled the air, fol- 
 lowed by a terrific thunder-clap. 
 
 The next morning they found the un- 
 happy mother lying lifeless in her daugh- 
 ter's chamber, and in the maiden's bed 
 slumbered the same old ass which Satan 
 had got for building the castle. 
 
 Gretchen always used to conclude the 
 story with these words, 
 
 " The story goes that any love which 
 blooms in the vicinity of Rheingrafen- 
 stein's ruins is disastrous to the lovers, 
 and that the curse which rests over it 
 will not be removed until Adelgunda's 
 and Eberhard's spirits have become rec- 
 onciled ; nor till the former has been re- 
 leased from her subterranean imprison- 
 ment and obtained the Holy Mother's 
 forgiveness. This shall occur when two 
 faithful hearts beat for each other here in 
 this place, where Adelgunda broke her 
 faith to Eberhard." 
 
 Such was the story I heard from Gretch- 
 en, and such was the superstitious moral 
 she annexed, which often repeated to me 
 in childhood made a deep impression. 
 
 Frau Spindler ceased and sat awhile 
 absorbed in thought, after which she 
 again began to speak. 
 
 As I have now told you the legend it- 
 self, I will in connection with it continue 
 my own life-story. 
 
 My uncle, by whom 1 had been adopt- 
 ed, was a warm-hearted Christian, strict 
 in his morals, serious in his thoughts, 
 firm in his faith, and incorruptible in his 
 sense of duty. 
 
 He had, in the same way as his father 
 and grandfather, cultivated the soil, at- 
 tended to his vineyards, and in leisure 
 moments developed his intellect by read- 
 ing and study. 
 
 In his youth he had spent two or three 
 years at one of the principal universities 
 in Germany, and had there laid the 
 foundation of the knowledge which he 
 afterwards augmented during his whole 
 life. 
 
 To live in daily contact with my uncle 
 and not love him was impossible. To 
 act in opposition to his will, to do any- 
 thing that, displeased him, were faults 
 which even as a child I would have 
 regarded as a crime. Although I was
 
 A REMINISCENCE OP KREUZNACH. 
 
 129 
 
 small, I could sit at his feet, listening to 
 his words as to some grand and exalted 
 music, which I could not rightly compre- 
 hend it is true, but which nevertheless 
 charmed my ear. In short, as far back 
 as my thought extends, he was the dear- 
 est I possessed. 
 
 Before death made me parentless, it 
 had snatched away his wife. Uncle was 
 thus both father and mother to his sons 
 and me. 
 
 An older sister of his and my departed 
 mother attended to his domestic economy. 
 
 Aunt Monica was a very ordinary 
 woman, neither better nor worse than a 
 thousand others. The only prominent 
 thing in her was that she cherished an 
 almost passionate love for her younger 
 nephew, Gerhard, of whom she had had 
 the care since his mother's death, when 
 the boy was only six mouths old. 
 
 My two cousins, Rolf and Gerhard, 
 were as unlike each other in disposition 
 and character as night and day. 
 
 The first-named was of a mild and 
 serious turn of mind. Like his father in 
 thought and opinion, he loved the good, 
 the beautiful, the noble, and was fully 
 convinced that one could be of use even 
 in the most obscure corner of the world, 
 if he only placed love of the neighbor 
 before love of himself. Right-minded 
 and firm, his character was one of those 
 which could easily take a stamp of stern- 
 ness if he was wronged. 
 
 Gerhard again was beautiful as a statue 
 in features, lively, passionate, wild, and 
 changeable to the highest degree. He 
 found our secluded life in the valley 
 unbearably monotonous, and longed to 
 be away among strangers and new scenes. 
 
 Passionate even to rashness, he had 
 already as a boy been a source of contin- 
 ual anxiety to Aunt Monica and of 
 sorrow to his father, who neither with 
 severity nor kindness was able to tame 
 this temper which waa irritated at the 
 slightest opposition. 
 
 Toward his brother he entertained, as 
 
 far back as I can remember, a deep- 
 seated feeling of spite and bitterness ; in 
 the beginning this started from the fact 
 that Rolf was stronger, and was after- 
 wards nourished by the esteem hi which 
 the latter was held for his exemplary 
 habits, diligence, and obedience to his 
 father. 
 
 As Rolf grew up, he had only one en- 
 deavor, and that was to please his father 
 and to correspond to the claims which 
 the latter had upon him, so far as stood 
 in his power. 
 
 He consequently became the example 
 I set up for my behavior, and in my 
 childish heart Rolf was the one I ad- 
 mired next to Uncle Conrad. He was 
 besides six years older than I, and 
 through his affection for me and his 
 judgment was my guiding star to the 
 right and the good. 
 
 Gerhard, on the contrary, was the joy 
 and torment of my childhood. His 
 audacious merriment amused me, his 
 violence frightened and exercised a ty- 
 rannical effect over me. 
 
 Gay, foolhardy, bold, and fickle, Ger- 
 hard was to me an actual fever. I never 
 knew from one moment to the other how 
 he would be to me ; for it only needed a 
 word to make .him enraged. If we 
 played, he wearied of the play immediate- 
 ly and flew from one to the other. He 
 could desire a thing with the greatest 
 intensity as soon as any obstacle was 
 encountered, and then defy everything 
 and risk 'life and limb for it ; but when 
 he attained the longed-for object, the 
 pleasure was gone, and the san?e thing 
 which he had just tried with life and 
 blood to win was, when he once pos- 
 sessed it, of no value. 
 
 One afternoon he discovered a bird's 
 nest high up in a tree which overhung 
 the brook. He spoke of it, and declared 
 his intention of getting the nest the fol- 
 lowing day. 
 
 The morning came, and he went there 
 as soon as the sun was up. He climbed
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 to tlio top of the tree, but some one had 
 been before him. In the indignation at 
 being foiled in his hopes, he threw him- 
 self headlong from the tree, and was 
 carried home bleeding and badly hurt. 
 
 At another time he and Rolf were to 
 take a ride up to Ebernburg. Gerhard 
 declared that he would get there first. 
 Rolfs horse was, however, swifter than 
 his, so that he arrived a few minutes be- 
 fore his brother; this so irritated Gerhard, 
 that he was on the point of casting him- 
 self from the ruins of the large watch- 
 tower that stands on the edge of the 
 rock and hangs over a depth of several 
 hundred feet. He wished to be the first 
 in everything, and could not bear to 
 have any one dispute this right or place 
 any obstacle in his way. 
 
 That such a disposition should inev- 
 itably expose itself to trouble and the 
 punishment of a wise and considerate 
 father is a matter of course ; but punish- 
 ishment and remonstrances effected no 
 change. Gerhard neither feared the one 
 nor heeded the other, for he did not love 
 anybody or anything so much as his own 
 will. 
 
 At seventeen years of age he and 
 Rolf were sent to Heidelberg. The lat- 
 ter remained there three years ; but 
 Gerhard returned home quite unexpect- 
 edly after a year's absence. His arrival 
 surprised all, but rejoiced none. He came 
 back destitute of almost everything and 
 on foot, for on his way home he had 
 made a tour through the country around 
 the Rhine. 
 
 During the first weeks he was at home 
 he appeared considerably changed. He 
 was more quiet, kept himself in our valley, 
 and seemed to exert himself, while Rolf 
 was away, to reconcile his father with 
 the bad results of his first stay at the 
 academy. 
 
 Quiet, peace, and work were however 
 nothing to him. He soon tired of this, 
 and again began to roam round hunting, 
 while he succeeded in stirring up hos- 
 
 tilities with the youth of .the viei 
 lie did not care for books or studies, and 
 when his father reproached him for it, lie 
 replied, 
 
 "Let me once more go to a univer- 
 sity, and I promise that it shall make a 
 man of me. I was not born to be mas- 
 ter of a vineyard. Still, I will not go to 
 Heidelberg, but to Berlin." 
 
 Conscientious in all things as my 
 uncle was, he fitted out his troublesome 
 son for the second time, and sent him, 
 after a year's residence at home, to Berlin. 
 
 Shortly after his departure, Rolf re- 
 turned, and was then to devote himself 
 to agriculture and the care of the wide- 
 stretched vineyards. 
 
 Two years elapsed, in which Gerhard 
 continued to be away. 
 
 How he attended to his studies dur- 
 ing the time I do not know. He did 
 not ask for anything more in the way 
 of money than his father allotted to him, 
 but Aunt Monica sent him one sum after 
 another out of her private income. 
 
 During his absence time passed in our 
 valley like a smiling dream. 
 
 Uncle and Rolf surrounded me with 
 all possible love, and the latter was now 
 my teacher. I received through his care 
 an education far beyond what other girls 
 in this region enjoyed. 
 
 Being earnest and religious, they both 
 considered romances and such books 
 as fired the imagination injurious, and 
 in our little home there was not a single 
 book of the kind to be found, but only 
 those which cultivated the intellect and 
 heart. 
 
 Without anything which could stimu- 
 late the fancy or create a desire for the 
 romantic, I developed from the child to 
 the maiden. 
 
 Surrounded by grand and beautiful 
 scenery, enjoying the most disinterested 
 friendship, and inhaling only a moral 
 atmosphere, I could be said to possess 
 everything which could exert a benefi- 
 cial influence upon my moral, intel-
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KRETTZNACH. 
 
 131 
 
 lectual, and aesthetic nature. I had 
 also, during these years in which my 
 understanding awoke to full conscious- 
 ness, felt so happy in this hidden corner 
 of the world, so thankful to Providence 
 for the comfort I enjoyed, that I did 
 not have a single unfulfilled desire. All 
 was peace, all was harmony, both within 
 and around me. I enjoyed my existence, 
 as the bird in the wood must enjoy his 
 when he sings so glad and free. 
 
 I loved and adored my uncle and 
 Rolf, and was loved by them. I did not 
 reflect upon the possibility that things 
 could become otherwise than they were. 
 
 Frau Spindler leaned her brow on 
 her hand and added in a tone of deep 
 regret : 
 
 0, when I think of those days of 
 peace and bliss, it seems to me as if the 
 height of my happiness must then have 
 contained in its bosom all the sufferings 
 which afterwards befell me. From the 
 height of happiness one easily falls to the 
 depth of misery. 
 
 One day, it was in the spring, I 
 was then sixteen, Uncle Conrad said 
 to me, 
 
 " Get your hat, Selma, and let us take 
 a walk to Weirenthal. I have something 
 to say to you." 
 
 Glad to be allowed to accompany him, 
 I obeyed the order. We went along 
 the mountain path which turned off at 
 the left of our dwelling and wound be- 
 tween luxuriant groups of trees and dew- 
 berry vines, following a clear brook that 
 rushed quite wildly down the steep de- 
 clivity, until we came to Weirenthal, 
 where it is said that Ulric von Button, 
 during his stay at Ebernburg, spent many 
 solitary and delightful hours. 
 
 Weirenthal was a place to which my 
 uncle always preferred to turn his steps. 
 During the whole way he only talked 
 about the treasures of the vegetable 
 kingdom. 
 
 When we arrived there, he seated him- 
 
 self at the side of the brook under a 
 large tree and drew me down beside 
 him, saying, 
 
 " Now, my child, we will speak some 
 serious words. Your life has hitherto 
 passed like a quiet dream, without your 
 even thinking of the possibility that it 
 might change form ; and yet, Selma, this 
 can so easily occur. The great God may 
 be pleased to call me hence, and then 
 you would stand without support, a de- 
 fenceless reed exposed to the storms of 
 fate. My duty enjoins me, so far as lies 
 in my power, to provide for your future 
 and the security of your happiness. 
 
 " When your mother lay at the point 
 of death and bequeathed to me the dear- 
 est she possessed, her daughter, I prom- 
 ised her to try, with God and the Holy 
 Virgin's assistance, to protect you from 
 meeting the same unhappy fate to which 
 she had fallen a victim, namely, to die 
 of sorrow at having wasted her love upon 
 a husband who was unworthy of it. 
 
 " I promised to remove you from the 
 influence of other's passions, and to 
 shield your young heart tfrom their mas- 
 tery, while I endeavored to prepare you 
 an unobserved happiness far from the 
 battle-field of the world." 
 
 Uncle ceased, and I ventured to make 
 the inquiry if my mother was unhappy. 
 
 "Yes, very," he replied. Laying his 
 hand on my head, he continued : " I 
 love you, you, my adored sister's only 
 child, so deeply, that you occupy the 
 first place in my heart, and I should 
 not forgive it if either of my sons in the 
 future were to heap sorrow upon this 
 head. Any such thing would be so hard 
 a trial, that I do not think I have the 
 power to bear it with submission. May 
 the Mother of God watch over and pro- 
 tect thee, thou light of my eyes ! " 
 
 Just as Uncle said these words there 
 was a rustling in the bushes behind us, 
 and Gretchen, the crazy girl, passed by 
 us, saying, 
 
 "Good evening, I have news for you
 
 132 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 from Rheingrafenstein. There is a storm 
 brewing up there; strange things are 
 going to happen. Be on your guard 
 down there in Huthendal, for it is you 
 upon whom the evil will fall." 
 
 Grctchen disappeared at the turn of 
 the path. 
 
 Uncle sat silent a long time. A cloud 
 of sorrow now rested upon his brow, usu- 
 ally so calm and light. 
 
 I, who was not tormented in the least 
 by fear for the future or any sad fore- 
 bodings, attached no weight to what the 
 crazy girl had said, but only felt sur- 
 prised at Uncle's changed appearance. 
 
 He said nothing for quite a while. 
 Finally he took *way the hand that 
 rested on my head, patted my cheek, and 
 said, 
 
 " However much we may try to culti- 
 vate and enlighten our minds in order to 
 banish all prejudice from our souls, some 
 shadow of superstition will still remain 
 there. So is it with me. I have worked 
 all my life to become an enlightened 
 Christian, who does not place his trust 
 in anything but the all-good God, and 
 yet I am now surprised to find that I al- 
 low the words of a crazy girl to make an 
 impression on me ; and why ? Because 
 her prediction concerns the dearest I 
 possess, my child. So there it is, when 
 the heart becomes too much attached to 
 earthly beings, it is disquieted by an 
 unbecoming fear of temporal misfortunes. 
 May God in his goodness pardon me 
 this sin ! " 
 
 My uncle clasped his hands and sat 
 absorbed in silonc prayer, then he made 
 the sign of the cross and resumed, turn- 
 ing to me, 
 
 " Before I impart to you what I hope 
 and desire with reference to your future, 
 I will, according to the wish of your de- 
 parted mother, briefly relate to you her 
 experience. It is a speaking proof that 
 human happiness can never spring up 
 from the soil of passion. 
 
 " Your mother was beaiitiful and good. 
 
 She, like Monica and me, was born and 
 brought xip in the home I now occupy. 
 When your mother was seventeen, she 
 received the attentions of a much-respect- 
 ed man from Kreuznach. Our father 
 promised him his datighter's hand. The 
 alliance was such that it seemed to unite 
 in itself all possible prospects of happi- 
 ness ; but as our father considered your 
 mother too young, no betrothal was to 
 take place before a year. In the mean 
 time your father made acquaintance in 
 our parents' hospitable home, and con- 
 ceived for my beautiful sister a lively 
 and passionate attachment. Like a con- 
 tagious disease, this seized her heart also, 
 and under the influence of it she told 
 her father that she could not become 
 the wife of the man to whom he had 
 promised her hand, but that her peace 
 and happiness required that she should 
 be allowed to marry the one she loved. 
 Her father did not wish to force her to a 
 marriage against her inclination, so she 
 became your father's wife, and that so 
 hastily, that one might say she rushed 
 headlong into wedlock. The first months 
 of their marriage was one continual in- 
 toxication of bliss ; but like all other 
 intoxications, this also had an awakening, 
 and then your mother perceived that her 
 husband had changed behavior. The cup 
 of joy was drained, love died out, and 
 weariness had taken its place. He no 
 longer loved his wife, home was monoto- 
 nous to him ; their child's crying seemed 
 to him unbearable, and his food never 
 pleased him. He gradually became a 
 stranger to his own home. He was gone 
 whole days, and finally he took long 
 journeys. The tenderness he had once 
 lavished upon his wife he now gave to 
 other women ; he neglected his estate 
 and his business, destroyed his property, 
 and died far from his wife, child, and 
 home, in consequence of a duel that he 
 had had in Wiesbaden. Sorrow, jealousy, 
 and trouble had undermined your moth- 
 er's health, so that she shortly afterwards
 
 A' REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 133 
 
 followed her husband to the grave, con- 
 fiding you to my care. And now, Selma, 
 what lesson can be drawn from your 
 mother's life ? Simply this, that when 
 persons in the moment of passion decide 
 their fate, they have only built upon the 
 sand and must sooner or later be buried 
 under the ruins. Had your mother mar- 
 ried the man her father destined for her, 
 she would have come into the enjoyment 
 of that enduring and certain happiness 
 which has its ground in mutual respect 
 and affection. Her last request to me 
 was, that I should so instruct you, that 
 you would never, like her, throw away 
 the true gem to grasp the false, because 
 it might appear more brilliant." 
 
 Again there was a pause. I felt de- 
 pressed in mind from the account of my 
 mother's unhappy marriage. 
 
 Probably what I felt could be read in 
 my face, for Uncle said, after a moment's 
 interval, 
 
 " Had I followed the voice of my own 
 heart, I would never have initiated you 
 into your mother's sorrows ; but she has 
 so wished, and now, my child, this pain- 
 ful duty is accomplished. Let us there- 
 fore pass over to something pleasant- 
 er!" 
 
 He took me under the chin, raised up 
 my head and added, 
 
 " Now tell me, what do you think of 
 Rolf?" 
 
 " What do I think ! " exclaimed I ; 
 " why, that he is the most perfect being, 
 next to you, that the earth holds." 
 
 " That is saying entirely too much of 
 him and me," said my uncle. "There 
 are no perfect beings ; we are all poor, 
 poor creatures before the Lord. So you 
 like him very much 1 " 
 
 " More than I can tell." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it. You would 
 thus have no objection to becoming his 
 wife ! " 
 
 " Uncle ! " I burst out, and stared at 
 the old man. A feeling of amazement 
 had seized me; for notwithstanding I 
 
 loved Rolf as much as a heart of seven- 
 teen is capable of loving it had never 
 entered my mind that he was to be my 
 husband, or that our brother and sister 
 relation could be changed to the matri- 
 monial. 
 
 Uncle resumed quite calmly, 
 
 " Rolf loves you fervently, and with 
 that deep and true love which is usually 
 a security for future happiness. He is 
 a good boy, who will never bring sorrow 
 over your head; I can safely intrust 
 your future to his hands. You, on your 
 side, are a lovely little dove, accustomed 
 to coo in your nest among the moun- 
 tains, with such a mind and heart that 
 he ought to find with you all the felicity 
 that God in his grace can be pleased to 
 bestow upon those who love and obey 
 him. Through this union, my child, I 
 have placed at your side a support 
 against life's storms, and when I am 
 gone you will have in him your pro- 
 tector, your friend, your other self. 
 Married to Rolf, the fire of passion will 
 never touch your soul or burn your 
 heart, but you will find peace in a pure 
 love. Well, my child, will you have my 
 son Rolf ]" 
 
 My only answer was to throw myself 
 in his arms, and assure him that I was 
 happy and proud over the choice he had 
 made for me. 
 
 We then returned home. 
 
 Rolf was to take a journey to Bingen 
 on business a few days later, and would 
 not return for a week at least. When he 
 came back, preparations would be made 
 for the wedding, so that it could take 
 place at midsummer. My uncle told me 
 this on the way home. 
 
 I forbear to speak of the moment 
 when Rolf clasped me to his heart as 
 his intended wife. I then knew for the 
 first time how fervently I loved him, and 
 he also gave me to understand how deeply 
 I was loved in return. 
 
 Two days later, directly after dinner, 
 Rolf started on his journey. It seemed
 
 134 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 to me bitter to part with my betrothed 
 then. 
 
 When he was gone, I came up here to 
 the ruins to think of my loved one un- 
 disturbed. 
 
 I seated myself on the same spot 
 where I am now sitting. The moon 
 shone brightly, and I sent a prayer of 
 gratitude to God for the happiness which 
 smiled upon me and which I already 
 regarded as mine. 
 
 Quite suddenly the stillness was broken 
 by a song which was heard at a distance, 
 but which gradually came nearer and 
 nearer. It was a song that I had often 
 sung with my cousins. The words, by 
 Pearrius, described the merry times they 
 used to have at Rheingrafenstein. 
 
 The voice that sung it I had certainly 
 not heard for two or three years; and 
 although it now sounded stronger than 
 then, it was nevertheless so well known 
 to me that I quite gladly sprang up from 
 my place, exclaiming, " Gerhard ! " 
 
 In a few moments the singer became 
 visible. I was not mistaken ; it was 
 really Gerhard, and he was soon at my 
 side. 
 
 His joy at seeing me again was turbu- 
 lent. He kissed my hands, he took me 
 in his arms and lifted me up high, re- 
 peating a thousand times that he was so 
 happy at finding his beloved little sister 
 so beautiful, that in his joy over it he 
 knew not what he did. 
 
 When the first stormy outburst had 
 subsided, we sat down side by side to 
 talk. He asked in a single breath a mul- 
 titude of questions, which he did not 
 give me an oppoi'tunity to answer how- 
 ever, but said himself in reply to them, 
 
 " How childish I am to ask you ques- 
 tions. I ought to know well enough that 
 nothing ever occurs in our dear valley, but 
 that everything here pursues its usual 
 course. The storms of life rage on the 
 other side of this mountain, without pen- 
 etrating to the valley. 0, how happy 
 are you who have never left this dale ! I 
 
 envy you your ignorance of the world, 
 and I have returned to you to live and 
 die here. Well, little Selma, have you 
 thought of me any 1 " added he, clasping 
 my hand in his. 
 
 " Yes, indeed I have," was my an- 
 swer. 
 
 " Perhaps yotir thoughts were fastened 
 upon me when you heard my song 1 " 
 
 " no, I was then thinking of some- 
 thing entirely different. You said that 
 nothing happens here in our valley ; but 
 you are mistaken. Something unusual 
 has actually occurred." 
 
 " Indeed ! Has Rolf ceased to be a 
 saint, or has some other young man 
 strayed here by chance, or " 
 
 " Ah, you cannot possibly guess what 
 it is, dear Gerhard, and you do best in 
 not attempting it." 
 
 "Well, that sounds good. I can as- 
 sure you beforehand that I am well 
 aware that nothing of an unusual nature 
 has transpired. I know all about this 
 region ; one lives and dies here without 
 knowing that he has lived." 
 
 " And one marries ! " said I. 
 
 " Ah ha, Rolf has thus chosen a wife 
 for himself] Well, I congratulate him ! 
 I suppose she is as tedious as seven fast- 
 days 1 " 
 
 " I do not know how you will find her," 
 replied I, laughing. "Rolfs intended 
 wife is now before your eyes ; for it is 
 me whom he is to marry." 
 
 "You? " broke out Gerhard, and rushed 
 up. " No, Selma, that is not possible." 
 
 " Yes, it is not only possible, but it is 
 a decided matter," uttered a voice behind 
 us. We turned round, and Gretchen 
 stood there just at the descent. "Do 
 you remember the story of beautiful 
 Adelgunda, whom the Evil One carried 
 away 1 " asked she with her crazy smile. 
 " That story fits all times." 
 
 Propelled by the same_feeling, we rose 
 hastily. Without replying to Gretchen's 
 question, we descended in silence the 
 steep path that leads from the ruin to
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 135 
 
 our valley. When we were half-way 
 down Gerhard seized my hand. 
 
 "It is nothing but a jest, Selma, that 
 Eolf and you are to be married 1 You 
 only wished to fool with me 1 " 
 
 " Why should I wish to do that 1 " re- 
 joined I. 
 
 " It is all the same why, if you only 
 admit that it is so." 
 
 " I cannot do that, Gerhard ; the thing 
 is just as certain as that we are now on 
 the way home. It was decided two days 
 ago, and our wedding will take .place at 
 midsummer." 
 
 I said this with the childish pride a 
 girl of seventeen feels when she speaks of 
 getting married. 
 
 Gerhard pressed my hand hard and 
 muttered, 
 
 " Inconsiderate child, why did you tell 
 me that ] But it is a good while to mid- 
 summer, and much can happen before 
 then. Admit that if you had been al- 
 lowed to choose for yourself, you would 
 never have chosen Rolf? " 
 
 "Yes, I certainly should," exclaimed I. 
 " My heart feels proud and happy to be- 
 long to him." 
 
 "You only make the evil still worse 
 with these words. It would have been 
 better if you had let me believe the con- 
 trary." 
 
 "Dear Gerhard, how strangely you 
 talk ! Who in the whole world should 
 I rather have had for a husband than 
 Rolf?"' 
 
 " Me ! " 
 
 " At this moment he stood so that the 
 moon's rays fell on his classic features. 
 An unaccountable feeling went through 
 my soul. 
 
 I experienced something resembling 
 fear, and had a good mind to fly far from 
 him. 
 
 " So must Kuno have looked when he 
 tempted Adelgunda to unfaithfulness," 
 thought I quite involuntarily, and turned 
 away. 
 
 A few days after Gerhard's arrival we 
 
 received a letter from Rolf, saying that 
 he was obliged to go to Coblenz and 
 Berlin on account of business, and should 
 not return before two or three weeks. 
 
 This news troubled me. I felt uneasy 
 with Gerhard, who at the intelligence of 
 his brother's prolonged absence seemed 
 quite glad. 
 
 As calm and peaceful as my days had 
 hitherto passed, they were stormy now. 
 
 Towards his father Gerhard was more 
 affectionate, attentive, and submissive 
 than ever. He complied with his desires 
 and conformed to his will. He never gave 
 him any cause for displeasure ; but the 
 restraint he laid upon himself with re- 
 spect to Uncle, he considered entirely su- 
 perfluous with me. He was passionate, 
 bitter, and impatient at one moment, 
 tender, unhappy, and despairing the 
 next. 
 
 We had not been together many days 
 before he told me that he loved me, that 
 he should never survive the day when I 
 became the wife of another, etc. 
 
 Unacquainted with human passions, 
 without any power to restrain their out- 
 break, I became the object of a passion- 
 ate love. He pursued me with his 
 jealousy, tormented me with his com- 
 plaints, and could lacerate my heart 
 with descriptions of his anguish, until 
 he forced me to some expression of com- 
 passion that resembled tenderness. Had 
 I been less inexperienced, I should have 
 known that the only thing a virtuous 
 woman has to do, when she finds herself 
 the object of a love to which she cannot 
 respond, is constantly to maintain an icy 
 coldness, and not allow herself to be 
 tempted out of pity to involuntarily en- 
 courage a feeling which she cannot share. 
 As it was, Gerhard, through his wild out- 
 bursts, could get me to do much which I 
 afterwards disapproved. I accompanied 
 him in his walks up here, wept over his 
 pangs, and tried to mitigate them with 
 my kindness. 
 
 I could not bear to tell Uncle that
 
 136 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 Gerhard pursued me with his love, for I 
 did not wish to trouble the old man or 
 disturb the good condition between fa- 
 ther and son. I hoped everything from 
 Rolfs return. It never occurred to me 
 for an instant that Gerhard could be a 
 hindrance to my union with Rolf. 
 
 At length Rolf came home. I threw 
 myself in his arms with a cry of joy, and 
 he clasped me so faithfully, so warmly to 
 his breast, as he pressed a kiss upon my 
 brow and called me by the tenderest of 
 names. 
 
 I felt so safe and calm, believing that 
 I had now foxmd the refuge in which I 
 could repose, without anxiety for the 
 storms of life. Gerhard's wild love 
 should not pursue me there. 
 
 In my joy at seeing Rolf again I for- 
 got that Gerhard was a few steps from 
 us, until the sound of his voice reminded 
 me of it. 
 
 "Welcome home, Rolf," said he; "I 
 have long desired to see you." 
 
 I snatched myself, frightened, from 
 Rolfs arms. I now remembered that 
 Gerhard had said a few days before, that 
 if I dared to show Rolf the least tender- 
 ness in his presence he should take re- 
 venge upon him for the happiness of 
 which he had been deprived. 
 
 Rolf turned from me to him and offered 
 him his hand kindly, with the words, 
 
 " Good morning, Gerhard, I did not 
 see you in the joy of meeting Selma 
 again. You know what she now is to 
 me, and you also understand that at the 
 sight of her I must forget all else." 
 
 " yes, I understand it very well," 
 replied Gerhard with pale lips, and added 
 with a smile of scorn, " brotherly affec- 
 tion generally suffers shipwreck when 
 love comes into play." 
 
 One is selfish when young and in love. 
 All the anguish, all the fear, uneasiness, 
 and compassion I entertained for Ger- 
 hard was forgotten when Rolf returned, 
 and I enjoyed my own happiness in full 
 draughts, unmindful of Gerhard. 
 
 Several happy days elapsed. 
 
 Gerhard went off hunting and was nev- 
 er at home. Rolf and I idealized as two 
 young and happy people are in the habit 
 of doing. We built castles in the air for 
 the future, and I forgot to tell Rolf what 
 had happened in his absence, or to men- 
 tion Gerhard's love for me as I had re- 
 solved to do ; it passed from my mind 
 when Gerhard was not seen, but I was 
 destined bitterly to repent this forgetful- 
 ness in the future. 
 
 A week after Rolfs return he went 
 quite early one morning to visit some of 
 Uncle's vineyards, which lay at a little 
 distance. 
 
 Gerhard had come home the evening 
 before, and a violent scene occurred be- 
 tween him and me. He declared that if 
 I dared to marry Rolf, he would kill him- 
 self. I conjured him to be calm ; I wept, 
 I entreated him not to make us all mis- 
 erable, but my words had no effect on 
 him. He demanded me to give up Rolf; 
 and when I told him that was impossible, 
 he swore that he would not survive the 
 day when I became his brother's wife. 
 
 We were in the saloon during this 
 scene. Uncle was out, Aunt Monica had 
 gone to the village, and the servants 
 were at work. 
 
 In the midst of it Rolf returned and 
 stepped into the saloon. Both Gerhard 
 and I were agitated. Rolf regarded us 
 with a singular look. He who was glad 
 and smiling when he went out was now 
 more gloomy and stern than I had ever 
 seen him before. 
 
 Without saying a single word either to 
 Gerhard or me, he took his way across 
 the saloon and into his room. He closed 
 and bolted the door after him. 
 
 When I was alone after Gerhard left, I 
 determined to tell Rolf all. He would 
 certainly prevent any misfortune from 
 occurring. He would talk with Gerhard 
 and bring him to reason. I went to 
 Rolfs door and knocked, calling to him 
 that I had something to say.
 
 A REMINISCENCE OP KREUZNACH. 
 
 137 
 
 His answer was. 
 
 "I have no time, do not disturo me." 
 
 Troubled and anxious, I went up to 
 my room, where I spent the whole fore- 
 noon. 
 
 When I went down into the saloon at 
 dinner-time, I found Uncle and his two 
 sons there. They were conversing on 
 indifferent things. Gerhard walked to 
 and fro. His face showed that behind 
 an apparent calmness he concealed some 
 violent emotion. Rolf looked stern and 
 serious. The look he fastened upon me 
 when I entered had something so singu- 
 lar, that I did not understand its expres- 
 sion. 
 
 After dinner I seated myself on the' 
 stoop. I had scarcely taken my place, 
 before Rolf came out to me. He stood 
 a moment and contemplated the ruins 
 of Rheingrafenstein overhanging our 
 heads. Then he turned to me with the 
 words, 
 
 " Have you often visited the ruins up 
 there, Selma, while I have been away 1 " 
 
 " Yes," was my answer. 
 
 " But you have not been there alone ? " 
 
 " No, Gerhard and I have gone togeth- 
 er." 
 
 " Or met there ; is it not so 1 " 
 
 " Yes, also that." 
 
 " Gretchen has told me so," said Rolf, 
 and turned to go in. 
 
 " Stop ! " I cried, and seized his hand. 
 " Ah, Rolf, there is something I wish to 
 tell you, but which I have hitherto for- 
 gotten to mention, and that is that " 
 
 " You consoled yourself with Gerhard 
 over my absence," said Rolf hastily, and 
 drew away his hand. " You were wrong- 
 in forgetting to mention this," added he, 
 and his eyes flashed. " Through your 
 silence you have ca\ised me to doubt 
 much which I hitherto believed." 
 
 He again turned from me to go into 
 the saloon. 
 
 " Rolf, let me talk with you," I prayed, 
 and tried once more to detain him. 
 
 " It is unnecessary, Selma, I know all, 
 
 and desire to spare an explanation which 
 now comes somewhat late." 
 
 It was the first time in my life that I 
 saw Rolf out of temper, and I was so 
 troubled over it that I stole away to 
 weep in solitude. 
 
 These were the first tears grief drew 
 from me. I went down to the river and 
 seated myself on the bank. 
 
 The evening came. The birds sang 
 so gladly in the tops of the trees and the 
 air was full of fragrance. It was one 
 of those charming summer evenings 
 which are so glorious all over -the world, 
 but which seem still more glorious in this 
 region. The sun's last rays no longer 
 illumined the summits of the moun- 
 tains. The moon kindled her pale light 
 and strewed silver over the heights. 
 
 Nature's peace around me poured its 
 balm in my soul ; the tears ceased to 
 flow, and I again looked hopefully up to 
 heaven. I had not done any wrong ; why 
 then should sorrow visit me ! 
 
 Calm had just returned to my heart, 
 when a voice quite near me uttered, 
 
 "Your place is not here, but up at 
 Rheingrafenstein; go quickly; the two 
 brothers are there. The Evil One sits 
 with open arms, waiting to get one of 
 them in his embrace ; for there is again 
 the strife of brothers. How it will end the 
 stars only know. Hasten, girl, to snatch 
 the victim from the jailer of Adelgunda's 
 dark prison. It is Rolf and Gerhard 
 who quarrel up there. 
 
 " How the contest will end the one can say 
 Who carried Eberhard's love away," 
 
 sang the crazy girl, and went off, pointing 
 to the ruins. 
 
 How I came here I do not remem- 
 ber. When I reached the top of the 
 ascent, I saw Rolf and Gerhard standing- 
 over there at the precipice. Gerhard 
 had laid his hand on Rolfs shoulder, 
 and the latter said in an agitated 
 voice, 
 
 " Unless you can prove to me that it
 
 138 
 
 is you she loves, you will not be able to 
 make me give her up. She would be 
 unhappy at your side, and I hold Selma 
 too dear to wish to promote your happi- 
 ness at the expense of hers. You have 
 now heard my answer." 
 
 " Then she shall not belong to either 
 of us," roared Gerhard. " You have al- 
 ways stood in my way, always been 
 preferred to me ; but this time you shall 
 not be happy at my cost." He threw 
 his arms around his brother's body. 
 
 A moment they both reeled at the 
 edge of the precipice. What I felt at 
 this, I know not ; but it stands clear to 
 my memory that in the next second I 
 had thrown my arms around Rolfs 
 limbs. When I looked up he stood 
 erect, holding Gerhard clasped in his 
 arms. 
 
 " Selma ! " they both exclaimed. Rolfs 
 arms loosened, and the brothers stood at 
 a little distance from each other. 
 
 Rolf bent down to raise me up. His 
 face was deadly pale. 
 
 " Stand up, Selma, and try to end 
 this quarrel which has been near costing 
 Gerhard and me our lives and covering 
 our father's gray hairs with sorrow. Say 
 which of us two you love ; but speak 
 the truth, as if you stood before God." 
 
 " You, Rolf," I faltered, scarcely able 
 to stand. 
 
 " Then you have trifled with my heart 
 in an abominable manner," exclaimed 
 Gerhard. "Your words now stand in oppo- 
 sition to all your previous utterances and 
 actions. It is our father's will, not the 
 voice of your own feeling, that you obey, 
 when you say so," added he, seizing my 
 arm. " Why do you lie," continued he 
 with increasing vehemence, "at a mo- 
 ment when it treats of life and death? 
 Why have you not courage to acknowl- 
 edge the truth, to confess that you love 
 me, when everything with us indicates 
 that it is so. Have you not, during this 
 time in which I have spoken the language 
 of love to you, wept and declared that 
 
 you would like to make me happy it you 
 could 1 Have you a single once spoken 
 of your love for Rolf] " 
 
 " No, I have not," I stammered ; " but 
 that has been because I did not wish to 
 trouble you. Gerhard, how can you 
 wish to assert that I love you, when 
 much ought to have convinced you of 
 the contrary 1 " 
 
 "You will thus not become mine 1 !" 
 shrieked Gerhard. 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 " Then you shall not be Rolfs either ! " 
 cried Gerhard; "you will have to pay 
 dearly for your play with my heart." 
 He stalled to the edge of the platform, 
 adding, "You may answer for my death 
 before God and my father." 
 
 For the second time within the lapse 
 of a few minutes I saw him tremble over 
 the abyss and fall. I uttered a shriek 
 of despair and sank down on my knees, 
 covering my face with my hands. 
 
 " Have you not yet had enough of this 
 mad game V' I heard Rolf say. I looked 
 up quickly. 
 
 On the grass plot here at the cross 
 Gerhard lay motionless, with his head 
 fractured and bleeding. 
 
 Rolf was on his knees with the whole 
 weight of his body over him, thus hold- 
 ing him still. Gerhard, although badly 
 maimed, made several ineffectual at- 
 tempts to get up. 
 
 Rolf said in a stern tone, 
 
 " It is fruitless for you to try to be- 
 come free ; you ought to know of old 
 that I am the stronger. Lie still, there- 
 fore, until you regain the use of your 
 reason." 
 
 " Look here, Rolf," said Gerhard, pant- 
 ing ; " if you even succeed now in hold- 
 ing me captive, you will be obliged to 
 let go of me some time, and I swear, by 
 all the saints, that if I should be com- 
 pelled to strangle myself with my own 
 hands, I will not refrain from taking my 
 life, unless Selma gives me the heart she 
 allowed me to hope that I possessed.
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH 
 
 139 
 
 You know how little I value life, and 
 you can be sure that I do not care more 
 for it now. It is thus Selma or death." 
 
 " If I give up Selma," said Rolf with an 
 effort, "will you then come to your 
 senses ] " 
 
 " No, that is not enough for me. She 
 must become mine or away with life ! I 
 shall not survive this night, I swear it by 
 the shade of my mother." 
 
 Rolf rose. He released Gerhard and 
 said, turning to me, 
 
 " You and I are separated. It re- 
 mains for you, Selma, to decide over his 
 life or death. So act, that you can an- 
 answer for it before the Highest. May 
 God forgive you for promising love to us 
 both, I shall try to do so." 
 
 Tears, this resource of woman in the 
 moment of grief, started down my 
 cheeks. I reached Gerhard my hand, 
 whispering in an almost inaudible 
 voice, 
 
 "As you will." 
 
 He seized my hand hastily and tried 
 to rise, but the blood ran from two 
 wounds in his head, and he was again pale 
 and lifeless. 
 
 Without saying a word Rolf lifted him 
 up on his strong shoulders, and we went 
 down the steep and narrow path. 
 
 Days and weeks elapsed before Ger- 
 hard's wounds were healed. I sat by his 
 sick-bed, and dared not leave it for fear 
 of exciting him. It had happened once 
 or twice, that in an attack of jealousy, 
 when I stayed out a little too long, he 
 pulled off the bandage and tore open the 
 half-healed wounds. 
 
 What a season of anguish, what weeks 
 of nameless agony ! 
 
 The day after the terrible occurrence 
 at Rheingrafenstein, Rolf had a long 
 conversation with his father. After it, 
 Uncle said to me that my place hence- 
 forth was at Gerhard's bedside. He 
 patted rne on the head and looked in my 
 eyes with a deeply sorrowful gaze. 
 
 When Gerhard's injuries were almost 
 
 well and he was fairly on the road of re- 
 covery, Rolf came in to him and said, 
 that he was going to start the next day, 
 according to their father's desire, on a 
 long journey to France and England, to 
 make himself acquainted with the mer- 
 chant's calling. He should be gone two 
 or three years. In a perfectly calm 
 voice he enjoined Gerhard to make me 
 happy, and then bade him farewell. Ger- 
 hard pressed his brother's hand in si- 
 lence. 
 
 It was late in the evening of the same 
 day when I left Gerhard's room and 
 stepped out into the saloon. 
 
 Rolf, who had carefully avoided me all 
 this time, was standing at one of the 
 windows. When I entered he came to- 
 wards me. 
 
 "I leave in the morning before the 
 sun is up," said he, " and will therefore 
 bid you farewell this evening." 
 
 He took my hand and led me out on one 
 of the vine-covered porches, adding, 
 
 " Before we part for a long time, per- 
 haps forever, I desire to speak a few 
 words to you, which I beg you to bear 
 in mind." 
 
 Without saying anything disapproving 
 about his brother or reproaching me for 
 my silence, he showed me that I had 
 occasioned much evil through it, which 
 might have been avoided if I had imme- 
 diately at his return told him all. He 
 tried to prove to me that the only thing 
 which palliates a fault 'is honestly to 
 confess it, and that without truth and 
 sincerity no happiness can be found. 
 
 Once or twice, while he was speaking, 
 I tried to interrupt him, for his words 
 showed that he was fully persuaded that 
 I loved Gerhard; but every time I 
 opened my mouth, he stopped me. Fi- 
 nally he said with deep earnestness, 
 
 " Never forget, Selma, that the father 
 of the man who is to become your hus- 
 band thinks of your future with fear and 
 anxiety. Try to reconcile him to your 
 union with Gerhard; summon all your
 
 140 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 power to fulfil your duty in a worthy 
 manner. May God and all the saints 
 protect you, my beloved one." 
 
 His lips touched my brow and he left 
 me. I melted into tears. 
 
 God alone read my heart and knew 
 how deeply I loved him at this moment. 
 
 Rolf was gone, and Gerhard returned 
 to health. 
 
 When he was fully recovered, Uncle 
 informed us that he had nothing against 
 our union, since he had heard from 
 Rolf that we ourselves desired it, but 
 that he attached one condition to it, 
 founded upon his knowledge of Gerhard's 
 character. This was that Gerhard should 
 complete his twenty-fourth year before 
 he obtained me as a wife. He was now 
 twenty-two. He should spend the inter- 
 vening time at home, as he had himself 
 desired to become an agriculturalist and 
 to make himself familiar with this new 
 pursuit. 
 
 If at the end of this time Gerhard was 
 faithful in his attachment to me, and 
 stood firm in his desire to take charge 
 of Uncle's place at the border of the vil- 
 lage, we should be united. 
 
 Gerhard accommodated himself, al- 
 though somewhat reluctantly, to his 
 father's decision. He hoped to be able 
 to contract the two years to one. 
 
 The first year was rich in emotional 
 scenes. It seemed to me as if I had a 
 foretaste of purgatory. Gerhard was dis- 
 trustful, domineering, exacting, and often 
 indulged in the most wounding remarks. 
 He could not rid himself of the thought 
 that I kept up some secret correspond- 
 ence with Rolf. Without considering 
 that he had forced the promise of my 
 hand, he blamed me for unfaithfulness, 
 in case I loved Rolf in my heart. One 
 day wild, ungovernable, and ready to take 
 both my life and his own to escape the 
 agony he endured at the thought that I 
 loved another, he was the next tender, 
 repentant, and anxious to do everything 
 to atone for his faults. 
 
 Had I been used to such outbreaks, 
 they would perhaps have affected me 
 less : as it was my life had passed 
 quietly and without anything that could 
 be called scenes. This made me feel 
 depressed by my painful position towards 
 Gerhard. I endeavored to conceal my 
 suffering from Uncle, however, and to 
 keep him in ignorance of the explosions 
 between Gerhard and me ; but I was not 
 accustomed to disguise, and my cheerful- 
 ness had fled. I no longer sang any 
 glad songs, nor rambled, blithe and free 
 from care, among our mountains, but I 
 stayed at home and saw one day pass 
 after another without rejoicing at my 
 existence. When the first year began to 
 draw to an end, I had changed so con- 
 siderably that Uncle became anxious. 
 He said to me, 
 
 " How is it, Selma ? I begin to fear 
 that Gerhard makes your life bitter, and 
 that you already repent the step you 
 have taken." 
 
 I looked up in his face and remem- 
 bered Rolf's farewell words. Throwing 
 my arms about the old man's neck I 
 faltered, 
 
 " I am afraid of not being able to be 
 all that I wish to Gerhard and you." 
 
 " Do you really like him 1 " asked 
 Uncle, patting me. 
 
 " Yes, I do ; but not as I have liked 
 Rolf." 
 
 To repeat the words Uncle then spoke 
 serves nothing. He said that Gerhard 
 was the child who lay nearest his heart, 
 for the very reason that his character 
 was such that it inspired fear and anx- 
 iety. Gerhard was the image of his 
 regretted wife. This had made him 
 dear to the father ; but just this affec- 
 tion which he cherished for his son had 
 made him try to counteract his faults by 
 means of severity, and to bring the dis- 
 orderly and turbulent elements in his 
 nature to harmony. 
 
 The events which had prevented my 
 union with Rolf, however, had shown
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 141 
 
 him that Gerhard was still ready to 
 throw away life and salvation in the 
 moment of passion. 
 
 " This discovery, my beloved child, 
 has led me to the conclusion that God in 
 his mercy makes him attached to you, 
 so that you with jour mild character 
 and the power of love shall succeed in 
 ennobling him. I had wished, through 
 the union between you and Rolf, to secure 
 your happiness. God has decided other- 
 wise; he has chosen you for a higher 
 destiny, that of guiding Gerhard in the 
 way of right. The Holy Mother will 
 give you strength and power to fulfil 
 this destiny." 
 
 After this conversation I tried to for- 
 get my own sufferings and to keep the 
 idea before my mind that I was Ger- 
 hard's good angel, who was to elevate his 
 character. 
 
 My manner towards Gerhard changed 
 completely. I did not weep so often, 
 and forced myself to think less of Rolf 
 and more of him. When he had his 
 attacks of jealousy, I exerted all my pow- 
 er to calm him and convince him that it 
 was without cause. I was happier my- 
 self from making him contented, and I 
 actually began to think that I could 
 have a beneficial effect upon his disposi- 
 tion and character. 
 
 A short season of peace followed, after 
 I tried in a way satisfying to my better 
 feeling to identify myself with the role 
 that had been appointed me. My affec- 
 tion for Gerhard became through this 
 more true and real. It gave me a joyful 
 satisfaction when I seemed to read inner 
 contentment in his whole appearance. 
 I endeavored to forget that he had been 
 the one who separated me from my 
 heart's love. One day I shall perhaps 
 love Gerhard with the same feeling that 
 I now entertain for Rolf, thought I. 
 This hopeful period did not last long, 
 however. 
 
 Gerhard, who during the few weeks it 
 continued had stayed at home and occu- 
 
 pied himself with agriculture and the 
 cultivation of the vine, now began to 
 roam around, hunting again. He no 
 longer looked after the hired men, no 
 longer kept company with Uncle and me. 
 He had only one thought, one desire, 
 and that was to hunt. These hunts, 
 upon which he could be gone several 
 days, awakened Uncle's uneasiness. The 
 consequence of all this was, that when 
 Gerhard returned home, I endeavored 
 with redoubled friendliness to prevail 
 upon him to remain there and not go 
 away any more ; but my power over his 
 heart was gone, and he who during the 
 first year had only been governed by his 
 love, and begged on his knees for a little 
 heartiness from my side, now repelled it 
 with impatience ; and instead of keeping 
 him at home as I hoped, my attention 
 only drove him from it. 
 
 With these new grounds for inquie- 
 tude, the time advanced. 
 
 My Uncle became more and more si- 
 lent. Gerhard's name was seldom men- 
 tioned between us. It was as if we both 
 feared to speak of his unkind behavior. 
 
 The second year of our betrothal ap- 
 proached its close, when an event very 
 unusual in our valley occurred, and that 
 was a theft. 
 
 Aunt Monica had been in Kreuznach 
 to draw the little means which she had 
 deposited there, and which she agreed to 
 invest in Uncle's estate. 
 
 It was somewhat late in the evening 
 when she came home, and all had retired 
 except one servant, who sat up waiting 
 for her. The following morning, before 
 Uncle had risen, Aunt came rushing in to 
 him, crying that she was robbed ; that 
 the eighteen hundred thalers she brought 
 home with her the night before were 
 gone. 
 
 Uncle and I smiled at this, and would 
 not believe it ; but it was so, neverthe- 
 less, for the money which the old lady 
 put in her bureau at night had actually 
 disappeared. Aunt Monica notified the
 
 142 
 
 A REMINISCEXCE OF KREUZXACH. 
 
 shoriff of the matter, but without being 
 able to mention any one whom she sus- 
 pected of the theft. 
 
 In the course of two or three days, 
 Gerhard, who had been off hunting dur- 
 ing this occurrence, returned home. He 
 was in a particularly testy humor, and 
 spent some hours shut up in his room, 
 engaged in writing an answer to a letter 
 from Rolf, which he received on his arri- 
 val. Towards evening he went away 
 again, and that without saying a word 
 cither to Uncle or me. 
 
 The next morning I went up in his 
 room to put it in order before he came 
 home. 
 
 Among the papers on his writing-table 
 lay a half-written letter. My eyes fell 
 upon it. It was- to Rolf. 
 
 My curiosity became at this altogether 
 too great for me to resist the temptation 
 of reading what he had written to his 
 brother. 
 
 The contents of the letter were about 
 the following : 
 
 " MY DEAR ROLF : Your last letter 
 was so cursedly tedious and stupid that 
 I was scarcely able to read it through. 
 What use is it for you to lecture me 
 about my changeableness, the culpability 
 of my actions, etc. Such as nature made 
 me, I am once for all, and you need not 
 think that your words have the power to 
 change anything in my character. 
 
 " I cannot be like you, it is true ; but 
 I am not to blame that my soul has 
 wings and desires to soar, while yours 
 resembles the snail which contents itself 
 with staying in the same place. My 
 feelings need to fly around, require change 
 and contests, in order that they may not 
 kill me. Yes, I should die if I were 
 compelled to bind myself to agriculture, 
 vine-growing, prayer books, and a wo- 
 man. 
 
 "It is of this latter that I wish to 
 ppoak. 
 
 " Thus you reproached me for loving 
 
 Selma, and for separating you and her 
 by my wild passion. 
 
 " Folly ! As well reproach the earth 
 because the tornado tears up the trees, 
 as me for being ruled by a violent pas- 
 sion. The earth is not to blame for 
 being devastated by the elements, and I 
 am not to blame because I am filled with 
 ungovernable feelings, and cannot weigh 
 these upon that monstrous balance which 
 is called duty. 
 
 " Do you really consider it possible 
 that I could love Selma for any length of 
 time, feel happy at her side, and drag out 
 my life between these mountains, cultivat- 
 ing my fields and rocking my children 1 
 
 " Can you seriously assert that I am 
 created for such an existence 1 
 
 " No, I was born for freedom, activity, 
 and change. 
 
 "The feeling I had for Selma arose 
 instantly and disappeared as suddenly. 
 
 " The fault was my father's, hers, and 
 yours, in seeing in it anything but a 
 passing flame which blazed too high to 
 last long. 
 
 " The fire is burned out, and what do 
 you wish me to do with the ashes? I 
 cannot get them to burn. That which 
 is dead cannot return to life. 
 
 " My connection with Selma now 
 seems to me like an oppressive burden, 
 something that encumbers and excites 
 my aversion. 
 
 " She is to my eyes insipid and monot- 
 onous, and I feel an irresistible incli- 
 nation to hasten far away whenever I 
 see her. 
 
 "I conjure you, come back and take 
 your true love again ; she is not suited 
 to me, as I once imagined. My only de- 
 sire is to regain freedom. 
 
 " It is in general a sad truth, that the 
 more violent a feeling is, so long as it 
 encounters resistance and seems impossi- 
 ble to satisfy, the more quickly it dies 
 out when the hindrances are taken away 
 and everything cries, You have attained 
 your object !
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 143 
 
 " As long as Selma's tearful eyes, de- 
 jected arid cold manner inspired doubts 
 of her love, my soul burned with the de- 
 sire to come into possession of her heart ; 
 but now everything tells me that I pos- 
 sess it, that she loves me with all her 
 heart, and I ask, What shall I do with 
 it ? My love cannot do otherwise than die 
 out, when it no longer has anything to 
 disturb and stimulate it. Or do you 
 think that I shall allow an inclination to 
 be sanctioned which has its existence 
 only in the memory of having been 1 
 Ah, my honest brother, I leave it to you 
 to" 
 
 Here the letter was broken off. Prob- 
 ably he had got tired of writing longer, 
 thrown it aside, and gone out. 
 
 I left his room quickly and tried in 
 solitude to collect my thoughts. 
 
 Toward evening I went up to the ruins. 
 
 The remembrance of the scene which 
 separated me from Rolf stood vividly 
 before me when I found myself here. I 
 lacked courage to come up here on the 
 plateau where I had seen the same 
 brothers in conflict for my sake who had 
 now both abandoned me. I seated my- 
 self under one of the arches, with my 
 head leaning on my hands. I believe 
 that I wept. 
 
 Suddenly gay voices were heard out- 
 side the ruins. They jested and laughed. 
 It was a party who came to visit this 
 abode of crushed greatness. 
 
 I drew back in the darkest corner, to 
 avoid being observed. 
 
 The merry company came nearer. I 
 could distinguish what was said. 
 
 " Do not ask me to venture up there," 
 uttered a ringing woman's voice. " You 
 others may do it if you choose ; but I, 
 for my part, remain here." 
 
 " As you will, Clothilda," said another 
 woman's voice. " I shall go there, that 
 is certain." 
 
 " And I with you," responded several 
 others. 
 
 " With your permission, ladies, I will 
 stay here with Fraulein Clothilda," said a 
 voice which caused me to start. It was 
 Gerhard's. 
 
 " Ah yes, why not 1 ?" answered the ring- 
 ing voice ; " it may be right well to have 
 a cavalier who had his origin in this cas- 
 tle, at one's side. You may stay." 
 
 I saw the rest of the party hasten by 
 on their way to the platform. 
 
 Leaning against the wall with a beat- 
 ing heart, I waited for the moment when 
 the sound of their steps should die away, 
 that I might be able to distinguish what 
 was said by these two who remained at 
 the foot of the ruin. 
 
 At length I caught a few words. They 
 were uttered by Gerhard in the impas- 
 sioned tone peculiar to him, 
 
 " I conjure you, Clothilda, not to fool 
 with me any longer, there must be an 
 end to this play. You do not know with 
 what a disposition you have to deal." 
 
 "Possibly; but I know that you are 
 said to be betrothed to a girl down there 
 in the valley." 
 
 Breathless I awaited Gerhard's answer. 
 It soon came. He declared with the 
 most solemn assurances that it was not 
 he, but his brother who was betrothed ; 
 that he had never loved any one before 
 her ; that the girl she spoke of was so 
 simple that he could not for an instant 
 think of marrying her, etc. 
 
 Gerhard actually succeeded in convin- 
 cing this Clothilda that she was his first 
 and only love, and that life without her 
 would be a burden which he could not 
 bear. 
 
 I heard Clothilda say in a somewhat 
 unsteady voice that he should have her 
 answer in the morning. 
 
 Those who had been up on the plat- 
 form now returned, and they all went 
 away. 
 
 I remained sitting in my corner, and 
 repeated incessantly to myself, 
 
 "How much alike were my mother's 
 destiny and mine."
 
 144 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 It was late when I returned to our 
 valley, and yet I found only Aunt at home. 
 
 Uncle had ridden away in the after- 
 noon, and had not yet come back. To 
 go to rest before he was home, I could not. 
 It was midnight when I saw a boat glide 
 across the river ; it was Uncle. With slow 
 and weary steps he ascended the path 
 which led from the shore to our dwelling. 
 
 I went to meet him with an oppressed 
 heart. When he saw me he sighed deep- 
 ly, clasped me silently to his breast, and 
 murmured, 
 
 "To-morrow, to-morrow we will talk 
 together." 
 
 The night was long ; but yet it had a 
 morning. 
 
 At the first rays of the sun I was 
 down in the saloon to wait for Uncle; 
 but to my surprise I found him already 
 there, walking restlessly back and forth. 
 When I went in he stretched out his 
 arms to me, exclaiming, 
 
 " My poor child, can you forgive your 
 old Uncle for all the suffering you are 
 obliged to endure, for all the sorrow his 
 sons have heaped upon your innocent 
 head?" 
 
 I threw my arms around his neck and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 When we had both calmed ourselves, 
 Uncle told me that he had received a 
 letter the day before which induced him 
 to go to town in quest of Gerhard. A 
 conversation had taken place between 
 father and son with reference to the let- 
 ter, the contents of which Uncle did not 
 touch more closely. 
 
 Gerhard acknowledged to his father 
 that he was in love with a young lady 
 from Berlin, who was staying in Kreuz- 
 nach with some relatives. He said that 
 his future happiness and welfare depend- 
 ed upon Clothilda Wern; that was the 
 young lady's name. 
 
 The father had, after this declaration 
 of his son, forbidden him to return home. 
 Uncle did not wish to have anything 
 more to do with him. 
 
 In vain did I implore Uncle to forgive 
 him. In vain did I declare that what 
 had happened was the happiest for us 
 all. The only answer of the irritated 
 father was, 
 
 " He shall never come under my roof. 
 He has made himself unworthy to be 
 called my son." 
 
 The day after this, Gerhard's things 
 were sent to Kreuznach, together with 
 the direction for him to draw a sum of 
 money corresponding to the inheritance 
 that he might expect after his father's 
 death. 
 
 A week after this arrangement, we re- 
 ceived the intelligence that Gerhard had 
 left Kreuznach and gone to Berlin to 
 marry Clothilda Wern. 
 
 A few weeks more and Gerhard was 
 married. 
 
 Ever since the night when Uncle re- 
 turned from Kreuznach, it seemed to me 
 that his form had become more bent, his 
 walk slower, and his hair more gray. It 
 was as if his son's behavior rested heavi- 
 ly on his shoulders. 
 
 We read and walked together, just as 
 before, but we were no longer glad ; we 
 were silent and sorrowful. 
 
 One day, it was towards fall, as he 
 and I were sitting outside our dwelling 
 and I read aloud, we heard quick steps 
 approaching by the path which led from 
 the river. 
 
 I looked up. Uncle also turned his 
 head. 
 
 The steps quickened and came still 
 nearer. The advancing guest was now 
 at the turn of the path, and in a few 
 minutes Rolf stood before us. 
 
 Our joy can be easily imagined. 
 
 In the first moments we had no mind 
 for anything but the delight of seeing 
 each other again. When this had some- 
 what abated and I could look at Rolf 
 with tear-drenched eyes, his face seemed 
 to me considerably changed. 
 
 The former mild and earnest expres- 
 sion had gone over to a stern one, and
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 145 
 
 there was something cold and hard in 
 these features, which before spoke of so 
 much goodness. 
 
 Life is a continual ebb and flow of joy 
 or sorrow. 
 
 When the earth was again clad in the 
 robes of spring, Rolf and I knelt before 
 the altar, and the priest pronounced a 
 blessing over our heads. 
 
 When we left the church we were one 
 before God and man, and one in our 
 hearts; so I believed, as with a heart 
 full of the bliss love bestows I looked 
 forward to the future. 
 
 Forgotten were the sorrows, griefs, and 
 sufferings I had endured, and life seemed 
 so bright and smiling. 
 
 Yet my happiness was a dream which 
 was never to be realized. 
 
 In a few months after my marriage I 
 perceived that the affection Rolf cher- 
 ished for me was no longer the same as 
 before. The calm, always warm-hearted 
 Rolf had become uneven in disposition, 
 sometimes hasty, and often unjust. 
 
 If I spoke of how dear he was to me, 
 his brow became clouded, and he pressed 
 a cold kiss upon mine, saying in a com- 
 passionate tone, 
 
 " Poor child ! " 
 
 If I caressed him, he pushed me gen- 
 tly from him with the words, 
 
 "Your good heart, Selma, never de- 
 nies itself." 
 
 If I tried to surprise him with some- 
 thing that I knew would please him, he 
 said, 
 
 " Thank you, Selma, you are an atten- 
 tive wife, and do everything to fulfil your 
 duty." 
 
 When I asked him why he was so 
 changed, he looked at me and replied, 
 
 " Selma, do not ask such questions, 
 they do not become you. You know 
 best yourself that we are both changed." 
 
 In vain did I exert myself to discover 
 the reason of this lack of real warmth. 
 I could not find it. 
 
 That his singular behavior did not 
 
 come from extinguished love, I thought 
 I could conclude from the fact that there 
 were sometimes moments when he showed 
 me an almost passionate tenderness ; but 
 even at these moments there was some- 
 thing painful in the expression of his face. 
 
 I suffered, without daring to complain ; 
 for I trembled at everything that could 
 awaken his displeasure, because this was 
 easily called forth, but hard to subdue. 
 I feared his anger, whom in younger 
 years I had never seen irritated. 
 
 Before we were married I had spoken 
 with him about Gerhard, spoken frankly 
 and unreservedly about my feelings. He 
 listened to me in silence, and when I 
 finished he said, 
 
 " Selma, I will ask one thing of you." 
 
 "And that is?" 
 
 "That you promise me not to speak 
 of Gerhard. It pains me severely to hear 
 you talk about him, as you have now 
 done." 
 
 It could of course not enter my mind 
 after this request to speak either of Ger- 
 hard or of anything which had reference 
 to him. Neither could it be supposed 
 that Rolfs changed behavior had any 
 connection with this ; but I sought the 
 cause of it elsewhere, without finding it. 
 
 Uncle, who never heard an unfriendly 
 word exchanged between Rolf and me, 
 considered us happy, and we carefully 
 concealed from him that this happiness 
 existed only in his imagination. 
 
 Gerhard had disappeared ; he was not 
 mentioned by any. 
 
 Rolf and I had been married two years, 
 when I became the mother of a son, 
 whose birth nearly cost me my life. 
 
 Never shall I forget the loving care 
 with which Rolf tended me during my 
 illness. In every look, every gesture, I 
 read how I was loved; but when I be- 
 came well again, he drew back, as if 
 afraid of troubling me. 
 
 I cannot describe how bitterly I suf- 
 fered from this; for I now missed his 
 love so much the more.
 
 146 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OP KREUZNACH. 
 
 If Rolf had not been a loving son and 
 father, I might possibly have become 
 reconciled to his hard, bitter, and pas- 
 sionate behavior towards me, for I should 
 then have considered it as something 
 belonging to his character; but when 
 I thought of how he had formerly been, 
 how he was to his child and his father, 
 I found it xmnatural that he should seem 
 to deny his usual character to me alone. 
 
 Again a year passed. My little boy's 
 birthday drew near ; and as he was born 
 on the same day as his father, I wished 
 to celebrate this double anniversary by 
 having a miniature painted of myself 
 and enclosed in a beautiful locket to- 
 gether with a lock of my son's hair, and 
 this present I intended to let the little 
 one give his father. 
 
 I hoped through this gift from my 
 child to gain an opportunity of bringing 
 Rolf to an explanation, which should at 
 last put an end to the tension between us. 
 
 I had taken several journeys into town 
 for this picture while my husband was in 
 Bingen. When he came home and learned 
 from the servants that I had been to 
 town several times, he reproached me for 
 it with an anger which seemed almost 
 inconsiderate. 
 
 He accused me of an utter lack of 
 frankness, and declared that this fault of 
 mine would lead to misery. 
 
 Without giving me time to defend my- 
 self, he went off after making all these 
 charges. 
 
 This little scene took place on the 
 morning before his birthday. At noon 
 I received the locket with my picture by 
 a messenger from the town. 
 
 Although the joy I expected from this 
 gift was embittered through Rolfs in- 
 justice, I consoled myself with the 
 thought that he would the next day, 
 when he learned the reason of my jour- 
 neys to town during his absence, make 
 amends for his hasty words. 
 
 It drew towards night ; but Rolf did 
 not return. - , < : 
 
 I sat by my child's cradle, listening 
 for the sound of his father's step. 
 
 Suddenly a hasty tread was heard ap- 
 proaching the door of our bedroom. 
 
 I sprang up to meet Rolf; but re- 
 mained standing motionless, as if petri- 
 fied. Before me stood Gerhard. 
 
 He was pale and looked disturbed. 
 Frightened, I shrunk back. 
 
 The next instant he lay at my feet, 
 entreating my forgiveness for what he 
 had done. 
 
 He was miserable, miserable because 
 he had wished to promote my happiness, 
 and for this object had represented him- 
 self to me as fickle and drawn down his 
 father's anger and his brother's con- 
 tempt. He had never loved any one 
 but me ; he loved me still with undimin- 
 ished strength ; and he had come once 
 more to speak out the feelings of his 
 heart and implore me to effect his father's 
 forgiveness. 
 
 I promised to do what I was able if 
 he would only go away, and I said that I 
 would talk with Rolf; but then he en- 
 treated me in tears not to mention his 
 name to Rolf until I had obtained his fa- 
 ther's pardon. He conjured me by all 
 that was holy, if I did not wish to make 
 him perfectly miserable for his whole 
 life. 
 
 In my anxiety lest he should not go, I 
 promised him, and now for the first time 
 he rose. 
 
 He remained standing before me. His 
 look had something singular, and I felt 
 quite frightened when he seized my hand 
 and said, 
 
 "Selma, I cannot depart, unless you 
 are able to save me from the conse- 
 quences of an act which I have commit- 
 ted under the burden of my unhappy 
 marriage. I have gambled, Selma, and 
 if I do not pay my debt to-morrow before 
 noon, I am disgraced, my name branded, 
 and with this all possibility of obtaining 
 my father's pardon is gone. Selma, at 
 this moment you have more than my
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KKEUZNACH. 
 
 147 
 
 life, you have my honor in your hands. 
 Will you save it 1 " 
 
 " If I can," I stammered, and requested 
 to know the sum. 
 
 It amounted to just what I had that 
 morning received from Uncle as my pin- 
 money for the year, and which I had al- 
 ways since my earliest youth drawn on 
 the first of July. 
 
 Without hesitating for a moment I 
 hastened to give hint the money, and he 
 then left. 
 
 The night passed and also my son's 
 and his father's birthday, without Rolf 
 being seen. 
 
 In my anxiety I sent a messenger into 
 town to find out if any accident had hap- 
 pened to my husband ; but the man re- 
 turned with the intelligence that he had 
 left Kreuznach the previous afternoon 
 and gone to Wiesbaden. 
 
 Late in the evening of the day in 
 which I had hoped through the gift of 
 my picture to effect some change in our 
 constrained relation, he came home. I 
 sprang to meet him, after the anxiety I 
 had undergone, to throw myself in his 
 arms ; but he pushed me hastily from 
 him, saying, 
 
 " Spare us both the infliction of any 
 demonstrations of affection. Where is 
 my father 1 ? Has he been uneasy over 
 my long stay?" And without waiting 
 for an answer he hastened by me to find 
 the old man. 
 
 It was very late when he entered our 
 bedroom. I sat rocking my son. 
 
 His glance fell upon me immediately, 
 and he frowned with anger as he said 
 quite harshly, 
 
 " Why have you not retired 1 " 
 
 " Because I wished to embrace you on 
 your birthday and explain the reason 
 why I went to Kreuznach during your 
 absence. Ah, Rolf, it has pained me 
 that I awakened your displeasure by so 
 doing, when I wished to afford you, as I 
 believed, a glad surprise." 
 
 " Indeed, you are very good !," rejoined 
 
 Rolf bitterly : " and you know how to put 
 your words so that one might be deceived 
 by them. You are a formidable woman, 
 Selma," added he, and turned away from 
 me. 
 
 "Rolf," I exclaimed, "what is your 
 intention in telling me this? What 
 wrong have I done you ? " 
 
 " What have you done ? " repeated he, 
 looking at me ; " and you dare to ask 
 that ?" He drew an e"tui from his breast- 
 pocket, adding : " You have not only be- 
 trayed the faith you owed me, even when 
 you did not give me your heart, but 
 you have recklessly thrown your hon- 
 or and mine into the hands of a 
 madman. Therefore take back the 
 souvenir that you sent him ; you can 
 thank your husband for sparing you the 
 humiliation of being in the mouths of all 
 the idlers at Wiesbaden. I have for the 
 present saved your honor and my own at 
 the same time, but do not count upon 
 my doing it again ! " 
 
 He hastened towards the door. 
 
 "Rolf, Rolf, hear me ! " But he did 
 not listen ; he was gone. 
 
 I went to open the e"tui. It was my 
 miniature, enclosed in a locket, and ex- 
 actly like the one I had had painted for 
 Rolf. On the edge of the case stood, 
 " From Selma to Gerhard." 
 
 Perfectly beside myself, I raised the 
 lid of my chiffonier to see if my locket 
 had been stolen ; but no, it was there 
 and was precisely like the one Rolf had 
 thrown to me. 
 
 Although inexperienced in life's in- 
 trigues, I saw that it would be difficult 
 to justify myself. The artist who had 
 painted the miniature, and who was the 
 only one who could testify that I had or- 
 dered but one likeness, had left Kreuz- 
 nach the same day I paid him for it. 
 He had also the care of the setting. 
 There was thus no way of proving that I 
 was innocent. 
 
 I lay awake and cried the whole night. 
 
 Rolf was away all the next day. He
 
 148 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KRETJZNACH. 
 
 only came homo towards evening. I 
 had seated myself on a bench outside our 
 dwelling to force him to a conversation. 
 
 When he saw me his eyes flashed. I 
 went to him, saying, 
 
 " I demand of you, as a right-minded 
 man, to stay and hear me. You have 
 made a hard accusation against me, and 
 you cannot refuse to let me give you an 
 explanation. 
 
 In silence Rolf seated himself on the 
 bench I had just left. He crossed his 
 arms over his breast, as if he wished to 
 indicate by this motion that he waited 
 for what I had to say. 
 
 I sat down on the turf at his feet. 
 With calmness I related that I had en- 
 gaged a ti'avelling artist to paint my 
 miniature, which I intended to give him. 
 I told him that the picture he had 
 thrown to me was something of which 
 I had no knowledge, and I asked him 
 how it was possible for him to believe 
 that I betrayed him in any respect." 
 
 When I finished, a deep sigh heaved 
 his breast. Without looking at me, he 
 said, 
 
 " If I should believe you, how would 
 you then explain the fact that Gerhard 
 came in possession of this likeness ? He 
 has not stayed in Kreuznach, and did. 
 not know that you were going to have 
 your picture taken. He has thus not 
 been able to have any copy made, and 
 besides, why should he do it 1 " 
 
 "Rolf! Gerhard has been in Kreuz- 
 nach ! " I exclaimed involuntarily. 
 
 "Has he?" returned Rolf hastily; 
 " and this you have known and con- 
 cealed from me 1 Ah ! you have perhaps 
 met him when you went for a sitting. 
 I suspected something of the kind ! " 
 
 "0 my God, Rolf, how you talk! 
 Have I ever lied to you or deceived 
 you 1 " 
 
 "Not that I can prove," answered 
 Rolf, smiling bitterly ; " there is really a 
 great difference between concealing the 
 truth and uttering a falsehood. Yet 
 
 the deceit is just as great if I conceal 
 the truth, as if I denied it. You have 
 concealed that you met Gerhard, and 
 you do not consider this a deception." 
 
 In spite of all the unjust charges he 
 made me, I did not become angry. I 
 only felt deeply troubled, and with the 
 firmest persuasion that I could remove 
 the misunderstanding between us, I told 
 him of Gerhard's appearance and his re- 
 quest that I would try to induce his 
 father to pardon him. 
 
 Rolf listened to me without once in- 
 terrupting ; but I read in his face with 
 a feeling of despair that I had not suc- 
 ceeded in subduing the doubts in his 
 soul. * 
 
 I received during these agonizing mo- 
 ments the bitter lesson that when dis- 
 trust and suspicion have gained a foothold 
 in the heart, they remain there and are 
 not so easily removed. 
 
 When my account was ended, Rolf 
 stroked his brow with his hand, mur- 
 muring, 
 
 " But the locket, how will you explain 
 that? Yet, what use is it to talk of 
 this ? Were you guilty, you would deny 
 it. I will believe that you are pure as 
 far as your actions are concerned, al- 
 though everything speaks against you." 
 
 He rose, adding with vehemence, 
 
 " I must find out whether ^ou or he 
 deceive me, even if I should be compelled 
 to travel around the earth to hunt up 
 the artist who painted these portraits." 
 
 Rolf went in to his father. 
 
 In a few days my husband went away. 
 
 This journey was occasioned by a let- 
 ter which came quite unexpectedly. That 
 the cause was not pleasant, I could con- 
 clude from Uncle's sad appearance. 
 
 When Rolf kissed me in farewell, his 
 expression was milder than it had been 
 for a long time, and he looked me in the 
 eyes, saying, 
 
 "0, that I could believe in your af- 
 fection ! " 
 
 " You can, RolfZ I replied, and looked
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 149 
 
 up at him ; " my heart, my whole soul 
 and every thought, belongs to you." 
 
 He released me and sighed. 
 
 "You distrust my assurance. Rolf, 
 is there then nothing in my glance, my 
 voice, my actions, which tells you that 
 I speak the truth 1 " 
 
 He looked long at me and kissed me 
 once more, saying, 
 
 " I will and shall believe you. You 
 were worse than a Devil if you could 
 deceive me with that expression of truth 
 in your eyes." 
 
 Two weeks fled, and yet we could not 
 expect Rolf back. He had written to 
 Uncle. The contents of the letter seemed 
 only to increase the sorrow that was 
 apparent in the old man's face. I also 
 obtained a few friendly lines from him. 
 
 The same day that Rolf went away, 
 a letter arrived from Gerhard to me. 
 This was followed by others, all written 
 in an agitated and impassioned tone. 
 
 I made several attempts to lead the 
 conversation upon Gerhard, when Uncle 
 and I were alone ; but the old man 
 interrupted me abruptly, and I had never 
 more than time to mention Gerhard's 
 name before he hindered me from con- 
 tinuing. 
 
 Finally a letter came from Gerhard, in 
 which he declared that if he did not hear 
 from me within a week and learn whether 
 his father had forgiven him, his despair 
 would drive him to put an end to his 
 life. 
 
 This letter arrived in the evening, 
 after Uncle had gone to his own room. 
 
 I resolved to speak seriously with Ger- 
 hard's father the following day, without 
 allowing myself to be deterred. I was 
 just considering what I ought to say 
 to the advantage of one who had 
 been the cause of so much harm to me, 
 when I heard steps in the saloon. I 
 hastened to the door to open it, thinking 
 that Rolf had possibly returned. 
 
 I was mistaken, it was Gerhard. 
 
 I became so frightened at the sight of 
 
 him, that I almost uttered an exclama- 
 tion; but he seized me quickly by the 
 arm, whispering, 
 
 "Make no noise, I must speak to 
 
 you." 
 
 The scene which followed was such 
 that it could only have been enacted by 
 Gerhard. 
 
 He painted in the most glowing colors 
 how unhappy he had been, and how 
 deeply he loved me. He begged in tears 
 that I would give him the consolation 
 for all that he had suffered of seeing his 
 father again. 
 
 He spoke with all the extravagance 
 of feeling, and when I would have 
 fled in my fright, he held me, still ex- 
 claiming, 
 
 " One of the two, your love or my fa- 
 ther's forgiveness must you give me." 
 
 "All that I am able to do to recon- 
 cile you with your father I will," an- 
 swered I, and tried to get my hand loose. 
 He let go of it, but at the same instant 
 threw his arms around me, and with his 
 eyes fastened on the door, exclaimed, 
 
 "Beloved, adored Selma, you restore 
 life to me in allowing me to hope." 
 
 Just then I looked up. Right before 
 me on the threshold stood Rolf. 
 
 I uttered a cry of pain, and would have 
 snatched myself from Gerhard's arms; 
 but he held me tight as in a vice. 
 
 " Rolf ! " exclaimed I, in despair. Now 
 for the first time Gerhard released me. 
 I sprang out into the saloon; it was 
 empty. I fancied that I heard the 
 sound of steps; I started out in the 
 darkness to follow them, but then all be- 
 came silent around me. The night was 
 dark, I saw nothing. I listened, I called ; 
 no answer ; and when I returned to the 
 house, Gerhard was no longer there. 
 All that had passed seemed like a dream. 
 
 How interminably long was the re- 
 mainder of the night ! 
 
 The morning came, but without shed- 
 ding any light upon the night's occur- 
 rences. I came to the conclusion that
 
 150 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 Rolfs appearance had been nothing but 
 an illusion, and I now resolved to put an 
 end to Gerhard's further appeals to me 
 by speaking to Uncle and effecting a 
 meeting between them. I knew that 
 Gerhard was kept concealed by Aunt 
 Monica in her room, until I had succeed- 
 ed in influencing his father to allow him 
 to show himself. Aunt had informed me 
 of this in the morning. 
 
 My situation was painful in the ex- 
 treme, through my fear that it was Rolf 
 I had seen the night previous, and my 
 anxiety lest he should return before Ger- 
 hard saw his father, or that I should 
 not succeed in bringing about this meet- 
 ing. 
 
 With my child in my arms I went to 
 Uncle, after I had offered up a fervent 
 prayer to the Madonna. 
 
 I began to speak of Gerhard. 
 
 Uncle tried to interrupt me as usual ; 
 but I continued, and described how 
 unhappy his son felt at being rejected. 
 
 I begged forgiveness for his faults, and 
 tried to prove that what he had done to 
 me was of such a nature that it ought 
 never to have excited his father's anger, 
 so that he should forbid him to appear in 
 his presence. I appealed to the father's 
 heart, and put the question whether he 
 would not feel happier in forgiving than 
 in rejecting. 
 
 After Uncle had once or twice with a 
 stern voice, but in vain, tried to interrupt 
 me, he let me talk to the end. When I 
 ^nished, he raised his head, which had 
 been leaning on his hands, rose and went 
 to the chiffonier, from which he silently 
 took a letter and handed it to me. 
 
 It was from the judge of the district, 
 and ran thus: 
 
 " ESTEEMED FRIEND : I think that I 
 have found the thief who stole the eight 
 thousand thalers from your sister; but 
 as I am fully convinced that neither you 
 nor she will enforce the law towards the 
 one who appropriated, them, when you 
 
 learn that it is no other than your son 
 Gerhard, I consider it best for you and 
 your sister so to arrange the matter that 
 no further search may be instituted. 
 This will be very easy, if you immedi- 
 ately call upon me on receipt of my let- 
 ter, when I will explain to you how I 
 came to this discovery. However pain- 
 ful it has been to me to tell you this, I 
 have nevertheless been compelled to do 
 it, in order to spare you the humiliation 
 of seeing your son indicted for theft. 
 
 " With undiminished respect and friend- 
 ship, 
 
 "Signed, etc." 
 
 When I finished the letter, Uncle said 
 in a steady voice, 
 
 "It was this letter, not the intelli- 
 gence that Gerhard had taken a fancy to 
 his present wife, which occasioned my 
 journey to Kreuznach. It was this let- 
 ter which made me cast him off, and pay 
 him all that he should one day inherit. I 
 removed him from all contact with me ; I 
 did not curse him, because as a Christian 
 I had no right to do it, but I will not see 
 him. A thief is not my son ; I shall 
 never, mark, Selma, never allow him to 
 cross my threshold or show himself before 
 my eyes until he has changed for the 
 better." 
 
 " But if he has done so, if he has re- 
 pented, if " 
 
 " He has not," exclaimed the old man, 
 and struck his hand violently on the 
 table. 
 
 "Papa, beloved papa, that is some- 
 thing you do not know," I replied. 
 
 " Alas, I know it too well. He has so 
 acted towards me that I am almost ru- 
 ined. On false orders, signed with my 
 name, he has drawn money from all the 
 merchants in Coblenz, Bingen, Kreuz- 
 nach, etc., w^th whom I had dealings, and 
 that to so great an amount, that your 
 husband will only with difficulty be able 
 to arrange matters so as not to occasion 
 scandal. I have been obliged, in order
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 151 
 
 to cover my son's frauds, to sell my best 
 vineyard ; but not enough with this, the 
 day before your husband went away, I 
 received a letter from Gerhard's wife, in 
 which she begged me for assistance for 
 herself and her child. He has destroyed 
 the little she possessed, and then aban- 
 doned her. This also will Eolf try 
 to arrange, at the sacrifice of all he 
 owns ; but when this is accomplished, it 
 is all that I can do for my degenerate 
 son." 
 
 " No, not all," exclaimed a voice from 
 che door, and Gerhard rushed in. He 
 drew a pistol from his pocket and added 
 with wild vehemence : " I must have 
 two thousand thalers, or else I will shoot 
 myself through the head before your 
 eyes, my father ! " 
 
 " Shoot yourself then," said the old 
 man coldly, " from me you will not get 
 a single thaler more." 
 
 I sat with my back turned to the door 
 and had my child in my lap. 
 
 Gerhard started past me to his father, 
 who was sitting opposite. When he 
 threw himself at the feet of the latter, he 
 lay with his back turned to me. 
 
 At Uncle's words he raised the pistol 
 over his head. I rose hastily with a cry 
 of horror. There was a report, a pier- 
 cing shriek from my child, and I was 
 covered with blood." 
 
 Here Frau Spindler paused and bur- 
 ied her face in her hands. 
 
 After a few moments the unhappy 
 mother resumed. 
 
 The shot had reached my little boy in 
 the breast. I held his lifeless body in 
 my arms. Why I did not fall dead to 
 the ground, I do not comprehend. Na- 
 ture had given me so strong a frame, that 
 I did not even lose my senses, but main- 
 tained the full consciousness of my terri- 
 ble misfortune. 
 
 Of what occurred around me I have no 
 recollection ; I had but one thought, 
 that my child was murdered. 
 
 They told me that Gerhard fled from 
 the room like a maniac. 
 
 Night came, without my knowing how 
 the day had passed. At last they tore 
 the little wounded corpse from my arms, 
 to bury it in the churchyard. All that 
 I had left of my child were his clothes 
 steeped in blood. 
 
 The day after my little boy's burial, 
 two letters arrived from Rolf, one to 
 the old father, who since the calamity had 
 not left his room, and one to me. 
 
 Mark, this dreadful letter reached 
 me two days after my child's terrible 
 end. 
 
 Frau Spindler took from her pocket a 
 letter yellow with age and stained with 
 tears ; she handed it to me, saying : 
 
 Read it yourself, I have not strength 
 to read it to you. 
 
 The letter ran : 
 
 " SELMA : When you receive this we 
 are separated forever. You have your- 
 self so desired it, and I go to free you 
 from the presence of a husband whom 
 you have deceived, and whose honor you 
 have violated. I will not hate, not curse 
 the mother of my child ; but I say, Woe 
 to the women who like you receive the 
 purest, the deepest, and most faithful 
 love of their husbands, and repay it with 
 deceit and infidelity. 
 
 " I have long known that your heart 
 was attached to him who is called my 
 brother ; I have known that your lips 
 lied, when they spoke love to me ; but I 
 forgave the inconstancy of your heart, 
 because it seemed to me that you were 
 trying earnestly to conquer the feeling 
 which bound you to him. Yet I was 
 mistaken. You feigned faithfulness and 
 love of duty in order to deceive me so 
 much the easier ; and I have still, after 
 he gave me undoubted proofs of your 
 faithlessness, allowed myself to be de- 
 luded by your words and to believe your 
 assurances.
 
 152 
 
 " I will spare myself the pain of con- 
 vincing you that you have deceived me ; 
 you, the humiliation of standing as an 
 adulteress before your child's father ; and 
 the old man, the sorrow of having in 
 you nourished a serpent in his bosom. 
 Therefore must we separate. 
 
 " This is not a punishment, but a ne- 
 cessity. Punish you, I cannot ; and yet 
 when I think how you cheated me in the 
 last moment, I feel anger and rage boiling 
 in my soul. 
 
 " What solemn assurances did you not 
 give me when I was compelled to leave 
 home, and what did I find at my return 1 
 My wife in my brother's arms ! 
 
 " You saw me, Selma, and you under- 
 stood that we saw each other for the last 
 time. Had the old man, already so af- 
 flicted by sorrow, not lived, I would 
 have sundered the bonds which unite us, 
 taken my child from an unworthy moth- 
 er, and carried it with me in my exile. 
 Now I say, God preserve me from aug- 
 menting my father's grief ! . May he live 
 in ignorance of the fact that one brother 
 has robbed^the other of his happiness ; 
 that the girl whom he fostered with so 
 much tenderness has been treacherous 
 to duty, conscience, and honor ; this I 
 desire with all my soul. 
 j " I ought to have distrusted one who 
 even at our first betrothal day deceived 
 me and did not mention the amour she 
 had entered into with my brother ; but I 
 loved, and I failed to see that duplicity 
 was concealed behind the mask of inno- 
 cence. You have punished me in a fear- 
 ful manner for my credulity. 
 
 " See that you now, when you have 
 separated the child from the father, the 
 son from the old man on the brink of 
 the grave, awake to the sense of what 
 you owe your child and the one who 
 brought you up. Remember, that you 
 will be accountable to God for Rolfs 
 son," 
 
 After I had read the letter, I handed it 
 
 in silence to Frau Spindler, who resumed 
 her narrative. 
 
 What to this moment I cannot un- 
 derstand is, why I did not become in- 
 sane ; but as I said, my physique was 
 strong. I neither fell ill nor lost my 
 reason. I remained with the full con- 
 sciousness of my misery, and prayed with 
 all the strength of my soul. I had not 
 even tears to. give vent to the depth of 
 agony and despair within me. 
 
 Completely crushed, I sat hour after 
 hour with this letter before me. I was 
 thus not miserable enough through the 
 terrible death of my child, but I needed 
 this addition to my misfortune. 
 
 Towards evening Uncle sent for me. I 
 had not seen him since my child waa 
 reached by Gerhard's bullet. 
 
 The summons from Uncle roused me 
 from the trance of crushing grief in which 
 I was sunk, and a voice in my heart 
 whispered, 
 
 " The old man, what shall become of 
 him, he the father of my husband, and 
 my child's murderer 1 " V 
 
 The next moment I entered his room. 
 He sat as usual in his easy-chair. His 
 appearance was so changed that I fell at 
 his feet and burst into tears. 
 
 With Uncle were Father Lorenzo and 
 Aunt Monica. 
 
 Uncle clasped me tightly to his breast. 
 None of us were able to speak, but our 
 tears alone had to interpret all that we 
 felt. 
 
 Father Lorenzo was the one who first 
 broke silence. He spoke mild and lov- 
 ing words to us. He spoke as a Chris- 
 tian priest ought to speak to those deep- 
 ly troubled. 
 
 The words fell like balm on the soul's 
 wounds. The sobbing ceased, and at 
 last Uncle faltered, 
 
 " Can you keep from cursing the un- 
 happy man ] " 
 
 "Uncle, he is your son," was my an- 
 swer.
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 153 
 
 In a few moments Father Lorenzo im- 
 parted to me the contents of Eolf s letter 
 to his father. 
 
 Rolf informed him that in redeeming 
 the notes Gerhard had made out in his 
 father's name, he had expended all theu 
 ready money. Of all Uncle's property 
 there now remained only the revenue 
 from the little ground and the vineyard 
 which formerly belonged to my parents. 
 Still Rolf hoped that it would suffice for 
 our support. He had resolved to go to 
 the New World to endeavor to build up a 
 fortune for himsqlf and family, and in 
 this way replace what his brother had 
 squandered. The letter to his father 
 was calm and loving. He begged him to 
 take tender care of me and his son, and 
 said in conclusion that he had long ago 
 decided to go to America in order to 
 make himself a rich man, and as such re- 
 turn home. 
 
 After this day, weeks and months of 
 dreary sorrow followed. 
 
 No further letter was received from 
 Rolf. We could not write to him, be- 
 cause we did not know where to address 
 the letter. 
 
 Half a year after my child's death, we 
 were met by a new misfortune. My un- 
 cle became blind. Another half-year, 
 and he slumbered under the same turf 
 as his grandson. 
 
 I was now alone with Aunt Monica. 
 
 A year had gone by since Uncle was 
 buried. 
 
 Aunt Monica and I were sitting quite 
 alone one long and rainy autumn after- 
 noon in the room which had formerly 
 been Rolfs and my bedchamber, when a 
 man's step was heard in the saloon. 
 
 Aunt Monica took the light to see who 
 it was. I went with her. 
 
 In the middle of the floor stood a man 
 enveloped in a ragged cloak and with his 
 hat, dripping with rain, pressed down 
 over his eyes. 
 
 He carried something under his cloak. 
 When the light fell on him, he threw off 
 
 his hat and cloak. Gerhard stood before 
 us with a child in his arms. It was a 
 little girl apparently about two years old, 
 although she was actually four. 
 
 At the sight of this man, who had 
 robbed me of all, I shrunk back. 
 
 He spoke. 
 
 The words floated past my ears, with- 
 out my comprehending them. 
 
 His wife was dead, he himself 
 changed into a beggar, and branded as 
 the murderer of his brother's son; his 
 own child was without name and without 
 bread. That is what he said, although 
 I did not understand it at the time. It 
 was for this child he prayed, prayed 
 to me, whom he had made childless. I 
 caught his petition, but I was not able 
 to answer or look up. Quite suddenly I 
 felt myself embraced by a pair of tender 
 arms, and a childish voice uttered in a 
 beseeching tone, 
 
 " I am freezing, I am so hungry ; will 
 you not be my mamma 1 " 
 
 In an instant my arms were around 
 the child. I clasped her to my heart. 
 This was my answer. When I looked up, 
 Gerhard was gone. 
 
 The child is Louise. Since then I have 
 not heard anything of Gerhard or Rolf. 
 
 I have tenderly loved the child the 
 All-good gave me in compensation for 
 what I had lost. I have for her sake 
 abandoned our valley, over which rests 
 a singular curse, which seems to make it 
 impossible for happiness to bloom there. 
 
 Since Aunt Monica's death, ten years 
 ago, we have resided in Berlin. 
 
 You have now heard the history that 
 is attached to the house down there at 
 the foot of the mountain, as you have 
 heard the legend of Rheingrafenstein. 
 Both are only new evidences of the truth 
 that the greatest enemies of our happiness 
 are our passions. It matters little 
 whether we live in a cottage or in a palace, 
 in the most solitary corner of the world 
 or the largest of cities, if we do not, wher- 
 ever we are, teach ourselves to govern
 
 154 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF KREUZNACH. 
 
 them, and to let reason, not feeling, de- 
 cide upon our own actions and those of 
 others. 
 
 Frau Spindler ceased and I also re- 
 mained silent. 
 
 From the reflections into which we had 
 sunk, we were roused by a voice, which 
 beneath the ruins where we sat, sang, 
 
 "Da drobeu sassen sie allzumal 
 Und zechten im alten Rittersaal ; 
 Die Fackeln glanzten herab von Stein 
 Und schimmerten weit in die Nacht hinein." 
 
 The voice was trembling and uncer- 
 tain, but gave evidence that it had once 
 been strong and melodious. 
 
 At the first strophe of the song, Frau 
 Spindler started and rose quickly; she 
 looked around her frightened, and mur- 
 mured, 
 
 " Gretchen ! " 
 
 I turned my head. 
 
 To the surprise of both of us we now 
 observed that we were not alone on the 
 platform. Behind us, at the edge of the 
 ruins, sat a man. 
 
 When the singer came nearer, he rose, 
 and I now recognized the Englishman 
 who had followed Louise. 
 
 The one who sung now stood on the 
 platform. It was an old woman. She 
 stopped whe>n she saw us three, and re- 
 garded Frau Spindler with a peculiar 
 look, as if she was searching her memo- 
 ry. Then she smiled in a crazy way, 
 nodded her head, and said softly, 
 
 " You have done right to come here. 
 Knight Eberhard and the fair Adelgunda 
 have been waiting for you, and so has 
 he." At this she pointed to the English- 
 man. 
 
 Frau Spindler's glance followed the 
 woman's direction involuntarily. Her 
 eyes and the Englishman's met. They 
 looked at each other a full moment, and 
 then she sprang to him, seized his arm, 
 and exclaimed in a ,tone that resembled 
 a cry of joy, 
 
 " Rolf ! " 
 
 He stretched out his hands to her, and 
 she fell senseless in his arms. 
 
 The one who had borne such cruel 
 sufferings, without her body taking the 
 least share in them, now rested as if 
 dead on the breast of her regained hus- 
 band. 
 
 He pressed her to his heart, covered 
 her face with kisses, and called her by 
 the tenderest of names, until she again 
 opened her eyes and twined her arms 
 about his neck. 
 
 That afternoon the sun's rays fell with 
 a more than usually mild light on Rhein- 
 grafenstein. Two faithful and hard- 
 tried hearts were now found there, which 
 beat for each other and sent up a fervent 
 thanksgiving to the Supreme Being. 
 
 Gretchen returned quite contented 
 down to the valley. 
 
 According to her supposition, the spir- 
 its of the beautiful Adelgunda and 
 Knight Eberhard had again been united. 
 
 Two or three days after the above de- 
 scribed occurrence, I was invited to Frau 
 Spindler's rooms and presented to her 
 husband, Rolf Spindler. We ate dinner 
 together. 
 
 Joy shone from the eyes of the happy 
 couple. 
 
 While we were drinking coffee, Rolf 
 gave me some information with regard to 
 Gerhard. How he had himself spent 
 these fifteen years he did not relate, only 
 that he had resided in the West Indies 
 the greater part of the time, and had 
 many difficulties to encounter before he 
 was able to earn money ; but that things 
 had gone so well with him for the last 
 few years, that instead of possessing 
 nothing, he was now a rich man. 
 
 A year ago he returned from the West 
 Indies to England. He resolved, now 
 that he had amassed a fortune, to go 
 to Germany to see his son again. 
 
 While he was staying in London on
 
 155 
 
 business, it happened one evening, as he 
 was returning to his lodgings, that a car- 
 riage ran over a beggar who was just 
 about to enter Rolfs gate. In his fall 
 the beggar had received a cut in the 
 head, and was carried senseless to the 
 porter. A surgeon was sent for, and in 
 the mean time Rolf and the porter tried 
 to bring the poor wretch to conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 When in these 'efforts they pushed 
 aside the matted hair and washed his 
 face, a shudder went through Rolfs 
 soul. 
 
 He contemplated the features so ru- 
 ined by dissipation and misery, but 
 which, notwithstanding the stamp of 
 moral degradation imprinted upon them, 
 still retained their original regular beau- 
 ty. Rolf recognized in the unfortunate 
 man his brother. 
 
 This discovery was no sooner made, 
 than he had him carried up to his own 
 apartments, where he was tended with 
 the greatest care. The injury he had 
 received was, however, such that the 
 physician gave no hope of his recovery. 
 During the first twenty-four hours the 
 sick man was in so lamentable a condi- 
 tion, that his pains entirely mastered 
 him ; for not only his head, but his 
 breast also, was severely injured. On 
 the third day he obtained some relief; 
 and now Rolf revealed himself to his 
 brother, who could not possibly recognize 
 him, so changed was he, with his dark 
 complexion and large beard. 
 
 When Gerhard learned from the doc- 
 tor that he could not live, he declared 
 his wish to confess, not to a priest, but 
 to his deeply wronged brother. 
 
 He mentioned the accident which had 
 cost Rolf's son his life ; how the father 
 from sorrow had first become blind and 
 had then died. He further acknowledged 
 that he had belied Selma in an abomina- 
 ble manner when he conveyed the idea 
 to Rolf that she loved him (Gerhard). 
 He confessed that he himself had had 
 
 the miniature painted, in order to 
 strengthen the likelihood that Selma's 
 heart was his. 
 
 Led by an intense envy of his broth- 
 er, Gerhard had a joy in embittering 
 his life. When he discovered that he 
 had made a poor affair in his marriage, 
 he hoped by exciting Rolf's jealousy to 
 occasion a break between Selma and her 
 husband ; this would draw upon Rolf his 
 father's anger, something from which 
 Gerhard considered that he should derive 
 all possible advantage, especially as he 
 had already, in the first year of his mar- 
 riage, used up all he possessed. 
 
 With his wife he had not received 
 more than a few hundred thalers. She 
 had fooled him with the report that she 
 had property. The little she inherited 
 from her parents she had put an end to 
 before her marriage. 
 
 Gerhard had formed his plan upon the 
 knowledge of his father's character, and 
 the certainty that the latter would never 
 forgive Rolf if he made Selma unhappy. 
 He had therefore tried, through all possi- 
 ble means, to excite Rolf's jealousy, and 
 unhappily succeeded but too well in his 
 efforts. 
 
 There is generally no more thankful 
 task than to touch our egotism. It is 
 always ready to come into activity. 
 
 After Gerhard had confided his child 
 to Selma's care, he went to sea, and then 
 sank deeper and deeper, until he became 
 what he now was. 
 
 He had learned by accident that Rolf 
 was in London, and was just on the point 
 of seeking his brother to obtain some 
 assistance when he had the misfortune 
 to be run over. 
 
 After Gerhard died, Rolf went to seek 
 his wife. He found out, with much diffi- 
 culty, that she was residing in Berlin. 
 He directed his course there, but was 
 then met by the intelligence that she 
 was in Kreuznach. ., 
 
 He came to this place, and resolved 
 first to observe Selma incognito.
 
 156 
 
 When we went to Rheiugrafenstein, he 
 had followed us unobserved there, to 
 make himself known to his wife. He 
 had thus been a listener to her narra- 
 tive. 
 
 Two days after the one in which we 
 dined together, the Spindler family left 
 Kreuznach. They intended first to take 
 a journey to France, and then to settle 
 down in England. 
 
 THE END 
 
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