The Goose Man
of the German Empire was taking the cure at the nearby Kissingen Baths.
Herr von Erfft had made his acquaintance, and the Prince, an
enthusiastic landowner, had expressed the desire to visit Herr von
Erfft's estate, the management of which was widely known as excellent in
every way. In order to celebrate the coming of the distinguished guest
with befitting dignity, it had been decided not to have any tawdry
fireworks or cheap shouting, but to give a special performance of the
"Marriage of Figaro" in a rococo pavilion that belonged to the Erfft
estate.
"This idea comes from my wife," said Herr von Erfft. "Some ladies and
gentlemen of noble birth who belong to our circle will sing the various
parts, and my daughter Sylvia, who studied for two years in Milan with
Gallifati, will take the part of the page. The only thing we lack is a
trained orchestra. For this reason I have come to you, Herr
Kapellmeister, to see if you could not bring your orchestra over and
play for us."
Daniel, though pleased with the kindly disposition of Herr von Erfft,
could not make him any definite promise, for he felt bound to the
helpless, if not hopeless, opera company now in his care. Herr von Erfft
inquired more closely into the grounds of his doubt as to his ability to
have his orchestra undertake the special engagement, and then asked him
whether he would accept his help. "Gladly," replied Daniel, "but such
help as you can offer us will hardly be of any avail. Our chief is a
hardened sinner."
Herr von Erfft went with Daniel to the mayor; a half-hour later an
official dispatch was on its way to the impresario Doermaul. It was
couched in language that was sufficient to inspire any citizen with
respect, referred to the desperate plight in which the company then
found itself, and demanded in a quite imperious tone that something be
done at once.
Doermaul was frightened; he sent the necessary money by return wire. In
another telegram to Wurzelmann he declared the company dissolved; most
of the contracts had expired, and those members of the company who put
in claims were satisfied in one way or another.
Daniel was free. Wurzelmann said to him on taking leave: "Nothafft, you
will never amount to anything. I have been disappointed in you. You have
far too much conscience. You cannot make children out of morality, much
less music. The swamp is quaggy, the summit rocky. Commit some act of
genuine swinishness, so that you may put a little ginger into your
life."
Daniel laid his hand on his shoulder, looked at him with his cold eyes,
and said: "Judas."
"All right, Judas so far as I am concerned," said Wurzelmann. "I was not
born to be nailed to the cross; I am much more for the feasts with the
Pharisees."
He had got a position as critic on the _Phoenix_, one of the best known
musical magazines.
Daniel found the members of the orchestra only too glad to take the
excursion over to Herr von Erfft's. They were put up in a hotel; Daniel
himself lived in the castle. The rehearsals were held with zeal and
seriousness. Though the name of the Chancellor was still darkened by the
clouds of political life, by the enmity of his opponents, by pettiness
and misunderstanding, all these young people felt the power of the great
Immortal, and were delighted with the idea of meaning something to him,
even in the guise of an imaginary world and for only a fleeting hour or
two. Agatha von Erfft, the wife of Herr von Erfft, was indefatigable in
preparing the costumes, surmounting technical difficulties, and
entertaining her guests. The twenty-four-year-old Sylvia had inherited
neither the strength of her mother nor the amiability of her father: she
was delicate and reserved. Nevertheless, she managed to put a great deal
of winsomeness and roguishness into the role of the cherub. Even her
parents were surprised at the unexpected wealth of her natural ability.
Moreover, her voice was velvety and well trained. Accustomed as he had
been for years to the mediocre accomplishments of sore throats, Daniel
nodded approval when she sang.
The other members of the improvised company he handled with no greater
indulgence than he had shown the singers of the Doermaul troupe. They had
to put up with his gruffness and snappishness, and to do it without a
murmur. Herr von Erfft attended the rehearsals regularly, observing
Daniel at all times with quiet admiration. If Daniel spoke to any one
with such seeming harshness that the case was taken up with Herr von
Erfft, the latter said: "Let the man have his way; he knows his
business; there are not many like him."
Sylvia was the only one he treated with consideration. As soon as Herr
von Erfft mentioned her name, Daniel listened; and as soon as he had
seen her, he knew that he had seen her before. It was the time he was
on his journey; he was standing out at the entrance to the park; some
one called to her. It seemed strange to him that he should remember
this. Now he was with her, and yet he was just as much of a stranger to
her as ever.
But the thing that drew him to the beautiful girl had nothing to do with
this chance incident; nor was there the slightest trace of sensuousness
in his feelings. It was all a sort of dream-like sympathy, similar to
the quest of memory in search of a forgotten happiness. It was a vaguer
and more plaguing sensation than the one that bound him so inviolably to
Gertrude; it was more sorrow than joy, more unrest than consciousness.
This forgotten happiness slumbered deep down in his soul; it had been
washed away by the waves of life. It was not Sylvia herself; it was
perhaps a movement of her hand: where had he known this same movement
before? It was the way she tossed her head back; it was her proud look,
the blue of her eyes--but where had he seen all this before?
Forgotten, forgotten....
XII
Just as everything was in full swing, just as they had decorated the
buildings and arranged the Herrenhaus, the news came of the death of
King Ludwig of Bavaria. The newspapers bore a broad black margin, and
were crowded with details concerning the tragedy at the Starnbergersee.
The entire country, including the family of Herr von Erfft, mourned the
loss of the art-loving monarch genuinely and for a long while.
Of an operatic performance there could be no thought. The Chancellor
cancelled his engagement, and the young men who had assembled for the
rehearsals went quietly home. Herr von Erfft gave Daniel a considerable
purse with which he might recompense his musicians for their trouble,
and, not wishing to treat Daniel himself as though he were an ordinary
mechanic, he invited him to spend a few more days on his estate.
Daniel did not decline; he had not in truth given one minute's thought
to where he would go when he left.
After he distributed the present from Herr von Erfft among the musicians
and discharged them, he took a long walk in the woods. He ate a frugal
meal in a village restaurant, and then sauntered around until evening.
When he returned, he found his hosts sitting at the table. He neglected
to beg their pardon; Frau Agatha looked at her husband and smiled, and
told the maids to bring in something for the Herr Kapellmeister. Sylvia
had a book in her hand and was reading.
Daniel was a trifle ill at ease; he merely took a bite here and there.
When Frau von Erfft left the table, walked over to the window, and
looked out into the cloudy sky, Daniel got up, went into the adjoining
room, and sat down at the piano.
He began to play Schubert's "Song to Sylvia." Having finished the
impetuous, heart-felt song, he struck up a variation, then a second, a
third, and a fourth. The first was melancholy, the second triumphant,
the third meditative, the fourth dreamy. Each was a hymn to forgotten
joy.
Herr von Erfft and Agatha were standing in the open door. Sylvia had sat
down close beside him on a tabourette; there was a pleasing, far-away
look in her eyes, riveted though they were to the floor.
He suddenly stopped, as if to avoid both thanks and applause. Sylvester
von Erfft took a seat opposite him, and asked him in a most kindly tone
whether he had any definite plans for the immediate future.
"I am going back to Nuremberg and get married," said Daniel. "My fiancee
has been waiting for me for a long time."
Herr von Erfft asked him whether he was not afraid of premature marriage
bonds. Daniel replied rather curtly that he needed some one to stand
between him and the world.
"You need some one to act as a sort of buffer," said Frau Agatha
sarcastically. Daniel looked at her angrily.
"Buffer? No, but a guardian angel if such a creature can shield me from
rebuffs," said Daniel, even more brusquely than he had spoken the first
time.
"Why do you wish to settle down and live in Nuremberg, a city of such
one-sided commercial interests?" continued Herr von Erfft, with an
almost solicitous caution. "Would you not have a much better opportunity
as a composer in one of the great cities?"
"It is impossible to separate the daughter from her father," replied
Daniel with unusual candour. "It is impossible. Nor is it possible to
get the old man to tear himself away from his former associations. He
was born and reared there. And I do not wish to live alone any longer.
Everybody needs a companion; even the miner digs with a better heart,
when he knows that up on the earth above his wife is preparing the soup.
I must say, however, that I am not so much taken up with the soup phase
of married life: it is the dear little soul that will belong to me that
interests me."
He turned around, and struck a minor chord.
"And even if everything were different, your great cities would not
attract me," he began again, wrinkling his face in a most bizarre way.
"What would I get out of them? Companions? I have had enough of them.
Music I can study at home. I can summon the masters of all ages to my
study. Fame and riches will find their way to me, if they wish to. The
dawn is missed only by those who are too indolent to get up, and real
music is heard by all except the deaf. God attends to everything else;
man has nothing to do with it."
He struck another chord, this time in a major key.
Herr von Erfft and his wife looked at him with evident joy and sympathy.
Sylvia whispered something to her mother, who then said to Daniel: "I
have a sister living in Nuremberg, Baroness Clotilde von Auffenberg.
From the time she was a mere child she was an ardent lover of good
music. If I give you a letter of introduction to her, I am quite sure
she will welcome you with open arms. She is unfortunately not in the
best of health, and a heavy fate is just now hanging over her; but she
has a warm heart, and her affections are trustworthy."
Daniel looked down at the floor. He thought of Gertrude and his future
life with her, and murmured a few words of gratitude. Frau von Erfft
went at once to her desk, and wrote a detailed letter to her sister.
When she had finished it, she gave it to Daniel with a good-natured
smile.
The next morning he left the castle with the feeling of regret that one
experiences on leaving the dwelling place of peace and separating from
noble friends.
XIII
The streets of Nuremberg were hung with black banners. It was raining.
Daniel took a cheap room in The Bear.
It had already grown dark when he started to Jordan's. He met Benno at
the front door. He did not recognise the foppishly-dressed young man,
and was on the point of passing by without speaking to him; but Benno
stopped, and laughed out loud.
"Whew, the Herr Kapellmeister!" he cried, and his pale face, already
showing the signs of dissipation, took on a scornful expression. "Be