On the Cross: A Romance of the Passion Play at Oberammergau
till there was a heavy storm to make the water deep enough for me to
drown myself. And I've been prevented even in this."
"Josepha!" said the countess, deeply moved, "will you go with me--away
from Ammergau, to another, a very different world, where you and your
disgrace are unknown?"
Josepha gazed at the stranger as if in a dream.
"I believe," the lady added, "that my losing my maid to-day was an act
of Providence in your behalf. Will you take her place?"
"Thank heaven!" said old Gross. "Brighter days will dawn for you,
Josepha!"
Josepha stood still with her hands clasped, tears were streaming down
her cheeks.
"Why, do you hesitate to accept my offer?" asked the countess, greatly
perplexed.
"Oh, don't be angry with me--I am sincerely grateful; but what do I
care for all these things, if I am no longer permitted to act the
Magdalene?" burst in unutterable anguish from the very depths of the
girl's soul.
"What an ambition!" said the countess to Andreas in astonishment.
"Yes, that is the way with them all here--they would rather lose their
lives than a part in the Passion!" he answered in a low tone. "But,
child, you could not always play the Magdalene--in ten years you would
be too old for it," he said soothingly to the despairing Josepha.
"Oh that's a very different thing--when we have grown grey with honors,
we know that we must give it up--but so--" and again she gazed
longingly at the beautiful, deep, rushing water, where it would be so
cool, so pleasant to rest--which she had vowed to seek, and now could
not keep her word.
"Do you love your child, Josepha?" asked Countess Wildenau.
"It died directly after it was born."
"Do you love your mother?"
"No, she was always unkind and harsh to me, and now she has lost her
mind."
"Do you love your lover?" the lady persisted.
"Yes--but he is dead! A poacher shot him--he was a forester."
"Then you have no one for whom you care to live?"
"No one!"
"Then come with me and try whether you cannot love me well enough to
make it worth while to live for me! Will you?"
"Yes, your Highness, I will try!" replied the girl, fixing her large
eyes with an expression of mingled inquiry and admiration upon the
countess. A beautiful glow of gratitude and confidence gradually
transfigured the grief-worn face: "I think I could do anything for
you."
"Come with me then--at once, poor child--I will save you! Your
relatives will not object."
"Oh, no! They will be glad to have me go away."
"And your cousin, the--the--" she does not know herself why she
hesitates to pronounce the name.
"The Christ-Freyer?" said Josepha finishing the sentence. "Oh! he has
not spoken to me for a year, except to say what was absolutely
necessary, he cannot get over my having brought disgrace upon his
unsullied name. It has made him disgusted with life here and, if it
were not for the Christ, he would not stay in Ammergau. He is so severe
in such things."
"So _severe!_" the countess repeated, thoughtfully.
The clock in the steeple of the Ammergau church struck two.
"It is late," said the countess, "the poor thing needs rest." She
wrapped her own cloak around the girl.
"Come, lonely heart, I will warm you."
She turned once more to drink in the loveliness of the exquisite scene.
"Night of miracle, I thank thee."
CHAPTER V.
MODERN PILGRIMS.
"What do you think. The Countess von Wildenau is founding an Orphan's
Home!" said the prince, as, leaving the Gross house, he joined a group
of gentlemen who were waiting just outside the door in the little
garden.
The news created a sensation; the gentlemen, laughing and jesting,
plied him with questions.
"Oh, _Mon Dieu_, who can understand a woman? Our goddess is sitting in
the peasants' living room, with the elderly daughters of the house,
indescribable creatures, occupying herself with feminine work."
"Her Highness! Countess Wildenau! Oh, that's a bad joke."
"No, upon my honor! If she had not hung a veil over the window, we
could see her sitting there. She has borrowed a calico apron from one
of the 'ladies of the house,' and as, for want of a maid, she was
obliged to arrange her hair herself, she wears it to-day in a
remarkably simple style and looks,"--he kissed his hand to the empty
air--"more bewitching than ever, like a girl of sixteen, a regular
Gretchen! Whoever has not gone crazy over her when she has been in full
dress, will surely do so if he sees her _thus_."
"Aha! We must see her, too; we'll assail the window!" cried his
companions enthusiastically.
"No, no! For Heaven's sake don't do that, on pain of her anger! Prince
Hohenheim, I beg you! Count Cossigny, don't knock! St. Genois, _au nom
de Dieu_, she will never forgive you."
"Why not--friends so intimate as we are?"
"I have already said, who can depend upon a woman's whims? Let me
explain. I entered, rejoicing in the thought of bringing her such
pleasant news. I said: 'Guess whom I met just now at the ticket office,
Countess?' The goddess sat sewing."
There was a general cry of astonishment. "Sewing!" the prince went on,
"of course, without a thimble, for those in the house did not fit, and
there was none among Her Highness' trinkets. So I repeated my question.
An icy 'How can I tell?' was the depressing answer, as if at that
moment nothing in the world could possibly interest her more than her
work! So, unasked and with no display of attention, I was forced to go
on with my news. 'Just think, Countess, Prince Hohenheim, the Counts
Cossigny, Wengenrode, St. Genois, all Austria, France, and Bavaria have
arrived!' I joyously exclaimed. I expected that she would utter a sigh
of relief at the thought of meeting men of her world again, but no--she
greeted my tidings with a frown."
"Hear, hear!" cried the group.
"A frown! I was forced to persist. 'They are outside, waiting to throw
themselves at your feet,' I added. A still darker frown. 'Please keep
the gentlemen away, I can see no one, I will see no one.' So she
positively announced. I timidly ventured to ask why. She was tired, she
could receive no one, she had no time. At last it came out. What do you
suppose the countess did yesterday?"
"I dare not guess," replied St. Genois with a malicious glance at the
prince, which the latter loftily ignored.
"She sent me away at eleven o'clock and then went wandering about,
rhapsodizing over the moonlight with her host, old Gross."
A universal peal of laughter greeted these words. "Countess Wildenau,
for lack of an escort, obliged to wander about with an old
stone-cutter!"
"Yes, and she availed herself of this virtuous ramble to save the life
of a despairing girl, who very opportunely attempted to commit suicide,
just at the time the countess was passing to rescue this precious
prize. Now she is sitting yonder remodeling one of her charming tailor
costumes for this last toy of her caprice. She declares that she loves
the wench most tenderly, will never be separated from her; in short,
she is playing the novel character of Lady Bountiful, and does not want
to be disturbed."
"Did you see the fair orphan?"
"No; she protested that it would be unpleasant for the girl to expose
herself to curious glances, so she conceals this very sensitive young
lady from profane eyes in her sleeping room. What do you say to all
this, Prince?"
"I say," replied Prince Hohenheim, an elderly gentleman with a clearly
cut, sarcastic face, a bald forehead, and a low, but distinct
enunciation, "that a vivacious, imaginative woman is always influenced
by the environment in which she happens to find herself. When the
countess is in the society of scholarly people, she becomes extremely
learned, if she is in a somewhat frivolous circle, like ours, she
grows--not exactly frivolous, but full of sparkling wit, and here,
among these devout enthusiasts, Her Highness wishes to play the part of
a Stylite. Let us indulge her, it won't last long, a lady's whim must
never be thwarted. _Ce que femme veut, Dieu le veut!_"
"Has the countess also made a vow to fast?" asked Count Cossigny of the
Austrian Embassy, and therefore briefly called 'Austria,' "could we not
dine together?"
"No, she told me that she would not leave the beloved suicide alone a
moment at present, and therefore she intended to dine at home.
Yesterday she shuddered at the bare thought of drinking a cup of tea
made in that witch's kitchen, and only the fact that my valet prepared
it and I drank it first in her presence finally induced her, at ten
o'clock last evening, to accept the refreshment. And to-day she will
eat a dinner prepared by the ladies of the house. There must really be
something dangerous in the air of Ammergau!"
"To persons of the countess' temperament, yes!" replied Prince
Hohenheim in his calm manner, then slipping his arm through the
prince's a moment, whispered confidentially, as they walked on: "I
advise you, Prince Emil, to get her away as soon as possible."
"Certainly, all the arrangements are made. We shall start directly
after the performance."
"That is fortunate. To-morrow, then! You have tickets?"
"Oh yes, and what is still better, whole bones."
"That's true," cried Austria, "what a crowd! One might think Sarah
Bernhardt was going to play the Virgin Mary."
"It's ridiculous! I haven't seen such a spectacle since the Paris
Exposition!" remarked St. Genois.
"It's worse than Baden-Baden at the time of the races," muttered
Wengenrode, angrily. "Absurd, what brings the people here?"
"Why, _we_ are here, too," said Hohenheim, smiling.
"_Mon Dieu_, it must be seen once, if people are in the neighborhood,"
observed Cossigny.
"Are you going directly after the performance, too?" asked Prince Emil.
"Of course, what is there to do here? No gaming--no ladies' society,
and just think, the burgomaster of Ammergau will allow neither a circus
nor any other ordinary performance. He was offered _forty thousand
marks_ by the proprietor of the Circus Rouannet, if he would permit him
to give performances during the Passion Play! Mademoiselle Rouannet
told me so herself. Do you suppose that obstinate, stiff-necked
Philistine could be persuaded? No, it was not in harmony with the
dignity of the Passion Play. He preferred to refuse the 40,000 marks.
The Salon Klueber wanted to put up an elegant merry-go-round and offered
12,000 marks for the privilege. Heaven forbid!"
"I believe these people have the mania of ambition," said Wengenrode.
"Say rather of _saintship_,' corrected Prince Hohenheim.
"Aye, they all consider themselves the holy personages whom they
represent. We need only look at this arrogant burgomaster, and the
gentleman who personates Christ, to understand what these people
imagine themselves."
All joined in the laugh which followed.
"Yes," said Wengenrode, "and the Roman procurator, Pilate, who is a
porter or a messenger and so drags various loads about, carried up my
luggage to-day and dropped my dressing case containing a number of
breakable jars and boxes. 'Stupid blockhead!' I exclaimed, angrily. He
straightened himself and looked at me with an expression which actually
embarrassed me. 'My name is _Thomas Rendner_, sir! I beg your pardon
for my awkwardness, and am ready to make your loss good, so far as my
means shall allow.'"
"Now tell me, isn't that sheer hallucination of grandeur?"
Some of the gentlemen laughed, but Prince Emil and Hohenheim were
silent.
"Where shall we go to-morrow evening in Munich to recompense ourselves
for this boredom?" asked Cossigny.
"To the Casino, I think!" said the prince.
"Well, then we'll all meet there, shall we?"
The party assented.