按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
after him with his musket on his shoulder； passed under their windows；
but who he was； or what he； had done； or was to suffer； they never knew。
Another time a pair went by on the way to the railway station： a young
man carrying an umbrella under his arm； and a very decent…looking old
woman lugging a heavy carpet bag； who left them to the lasting question
whether she was the young man's servant in her best clothes； or merely
his mother。
Women do not do everything in Ansbach； however； the sacristans being men；
as the Marches found when they went to complete their impression of the
courtly past of the city by visiting the funeral chapel of the margraves
in the crypt of St。 Johannis Church。 In the little ex…margravely capital
there was something of the neighborly interest in the curiosity of
strangers which endears Italian witness。 The white…haired street…sweeper
of Ansbach； who willingly left his broom to guide them to the house of
the sacristan； might have been a street…sweeper in Vicenza； and the old
sacristan； when he put his velvet skull…cap out of an upper window and
professed his willingness to show them the chapel； disappointed them by
saying 〃Gleich！〃 instead of 〃Subito！〃 The architecture of the houses was
a party to the illusion。 St。 Johannis； like the older church of St。
Gumpertus； is Gothic； with the two unequal towers which seem distinctive
of Ansbach； at the St。 Gumpertus end of the place where they both stand
the dwellings are Gothic too； and might be in Hamburg； but at the St。
Johannis end they seem to have felt the exotic spirit of the court； and
are of a sort of Teutonized renaissance。
The rococo margraves and margravines used of course to worship in St。
Johannis Church。 Now they all； such as did not marry abroad； lie in the
crypt of the church； in caskets of bronze and copper and marble； with
draperies of black samite； more and more funereally vainglorious to the
last。 Their courtly coffins are ranged in a kind of hemicycle； with the
little coffins of the children that died before they came to the
knowledge of their greatness。 On one of these a kneeling figurine in
bronze holds up the effigy of the child within； on another the epitaph
plays tenderly with the fate of a little princess； who died in her first
year。
In the Rose…month was this sweet Rose taken。
For the Rose…kind hath she earth forsaken。
The Princess is the Rose； that here no longer blows。
From the stem by death's hand rudely shaken。
Then rest in the Rose…house。
Little Princess…Rosebud dear！
There life's Rose shall bloom again
In Heaven's sunshine clear。
While March struggled to get this into English words； two German ladies；
who had made themselves of his party； passed reverently away and left him
to pay the sacristan alone。
〃That is all right；〃 he said； when he came out。 〃I think we got the most
value； and they didn't look as if they could afford it so well； though
you never can tell； here。 These ladies may be the highest kind of
highhotes practising a praiseworthy economy。 I hope the lesson won't be
lost on us。 They have saved enough by us for their coffee at the
Orangery。 Let us go and have a little willow…leaf tea！〃
The Orangery perpetually lured them by what it had kept of the days when
an Orangery was essential to the self…respect of every sovereign prince；
and of so many private gentlemen。 On their way they always passed the
statue of Count Platen； the dull poet whom Heine's hate would have
delivered so cruelly over to an immortality of contempt； but who stands
there near the Schloss in a grass…plot prettily planted with flowers； and
ignores his brilliant enemy in the comfortable durability of bronze； and
there always awaited them in the old pleasaunce the pathos of Kaspar
Hauser's fate； which his murder affixes to it with a red stain。
After their cups of willow leaves at the caf？they went up into that nook
of the plantation where the simple shaft of church…warden's Gothic
commemorates the assassination on the spot where it befell。 Here the
hapless youth； whose mystery will never be fathomed on earth； used to
come for a little respite from his harsh guardian in Ansbach； homesick
for the kindness of his Nuremberg friends； and here his murderer found
him and dealt him the mortal blow。
March lingered upon the last sad circumstance of the tragedy in which the
wounded boy dragged himself home； to suffer the suspicion and neglect of
his guardian till death attested his good faith beyond cavil。 He said
this was the hardest thing to bear in all his story； and that he would
like to have a look into the soul of the dull； unkind wretch who had so
misread his charge。 He was going on with an inquiry that pleased him
much； when his wife pulled him abruptly away。
〃Now； I see； you are yielding to the fascination of it； and you are
wanting to take the material from Burnamy！〃
〃Oh； well； let him have the material； he will spoil it。 And I can always
reject it； if he offers it to 'Every Other Week'。〃
〃I could believe； after your behavior to that poor woman about her son in
Jersey City； you're really capable of it。〃
〃What comprehensive inculpation！ I had forgotten about that poor woman。〃
LI。
The letters which March had asked his Nuremberg banker to send them came
just as they were leaving Ansbach。 The landlord sent them down to the
station； and Mrs。 March opened them in the train； and read them first so
that she could prepare him if there were anything annoying in them； as
well as indulge her livelier curiosity。
〃They're from both the children；〃 she said； without waiting for him to
ask。 〃You can look at them later。 There's a very nice letter from Mrs。
Adding to me； and one from dear little Rose for you。〃 Then she
hesitated； with her hand on a letter faced down in her lap。 〃And there's
one from Agatha Triscoe； which I wonder what you'll think of。〃 She
delayed again； and then flashed it open before him； and waited with a
sort of impassioned patience while he read it。
He read it； and gave it back to her。 〃There doesn't seem to be very much
in it。〃
〃That's it！ Don't you think I had a right to there being something in
it； after all I did for her？〃
〃I always hoped you hadn't done anything for her； but if you have； why
should she give herself away on paper？ It's a very proper letter。〃
〃It's a little too proper； and it's the last I shall have to do with her。
She knew that I should be on pins and needles till I heard how her father
had taken Burnamy's being there； that night； and she doesn't say a word
about it。〃
〃The general may have had a tantrum that she couldn't describe。 Perhaps
she hasn't told him； yet。〃
〃She would tell him instantly！〃 cried Mrs。 March who began to find
reason in the supposition； as well as comfort for the hurt which the
girl's reticence had given her。 〃Or if she wouldn't； it would be because
she was waiting for the best chance。〃
〃That would be like the wise daughter of a difficult father。 She may be
waiting for the best chance to say how he took it。 No； I'm all for Miss
Triscoe； and I hope that now； if she's taken herself off our hands；
she'll keep off。〃
〃It's altogether likely that he's made her promise not to tell me
anything about it；〃 Mrs。 March mused aloud。
〃That would be unjust to a person who had behaved so discreetly as you
have；〃 said her husband。
They were on their way to Wurzburg； and at the first station； which was a
junction； a lady mounted to their compartment just before the train began
to move。 She was stout and middle…aged； and had never been pretty； but
she bore herself with a kind of authority in spite of her thread gloves；
her dowdy gray travelling…dress； and a hat of lower middle…class English
tastelessness。 She took the only seat vacant； a backward…riding place
beside a sleeping passenger who looked like a commercial traveller； but
she seemed ill at ease in it； and March offered her his seat。 She
accepted it very promptly； and thanked him for it in the English of a
German； and Mrs。 March now classed her as a governess who had been
teaching in England and had acquired the national feeling for dress。
But in this character she found her interesting； and even a little
pathetic； and she made her some overtures of talk which the other met
eagerly enough。 They were now running among low hills； not so
picturesque as those between Eger and Nuremberg； but of much the same
toylike quaintness in the villages dropped here and there in their
valleys。 One small town； completely walled； with its gray houses and red
roofs； showed through the green of its trees and gardens so like a
colored print in a child's story…book that Mrs。 March cried out for joy
in it； and then accounted for her rapture by explaining to the stranger
that they were Americans and had never been in Germany before。 The lady
was not visibly affected by the fact； she said casually that she had
often been in that little town； which she named； her uncle had a castle
in the country back of it； and she came with her husband for the shooting
in the autumn。 By a natural transition she