Tales from the German, Comprising specimens from the most celebrated authors

While my love for her increased to an unconquerable passion, a thousand obstacles became more evident, which deprived me of all hope of ever being made happy by her hand. I was poor, as I possessed nothing but a good reputation and the confidence of all honest people. But how little is that in the great world! I had, indeed, gained such general reputation by Bertollon's lawsuit, that the number of my clients increased daily. Still how long had I to work before I could acquire a fortune sufficient even to approach Clementine. I saw the lovely creature every day, both at home and in the garden, sometimes alone and sometimes in company. Oh! she might easily perceive how much I loved her, for my silence and my converse, my approach and departure, were so many betrayers of my heart.

I became daily more embarrassed and uneasy. Absence from her was the only remedy against inexpressible unhappiness. I came to the resolution of taking a house for myself, and discovered my intention to M. de Sonnes. Both he and his aunt opposed me in vain; I remained immoveable to their wishes and entreaties. Clementine alone neither appeared nor entreated, but she became more serious, and, as I thought, more sad.

"You are very cruel," said Madame de Sonnes one day to me; "what have we done to offend you, that you wish to punish us so severely? You will take with you the peace of our house, until now so happy. We all love you, leave us not, I beseech you."

All the reasons that I could state to justify my departure were insufficient to satisfy her. The most important, indeed the only one, I could not reveal, and she saw nothing but unconquerable caprice in my refusal.

"Well then," she said at length, "we must, I suppose, resign ourselves to your will; we are more indifferent to you than I thought. Why is it not given to all to allow friendship to strike root in the heart just deep enough to be plucked up without pain at any time? – Clementine will some day be unhappy for this. I fear she will be quite ill."

These words pained me. I turned pale and trembled, faltering, "Clementine suffer?"

Without the least suspicion of what was passing in my mind, Madame de Sonnes said, "Come with me to my room." I followed; and on opening the door, she said to her daughter: "He will not stay, you perhaps can persuade him." Finding myself alone with her, I approached her.

What a beautiful picture of grief! It will never be effaced from my memory. The terrors of endless misery which I have suffered in foreign climes have not been able to deprive it of its charm and life. There she sat in her plain attire, charming as a child of Eden; a fading blossom of lilac hung from her head, peering forth by her simple veil, as though it were a symbol of that which she most needed, repose.

When I approached her, she looked up, and her kindly beaming eyes, filled with tears, smiled upon me. I took her hand, and kneeling before her, sighed, "Clementine!"

She made no answer, nor did she smile.

"Do you also wish me to stay? Only command me and I will joyfully obey, even if I should become more unhappy."

"More unhappy?" she replied, with an anxious look; "Are you then unhappy with us!"

"You do not know that! You only wish to diffuse happiness around you; but, Clementine, you accustomed me to a heaven too soon. If sooner or later I should have to lose all, to lose your society (and such a time might arrive, Clementine), how would it then be with me?" I asked, while I pressed her hand against my throbbing heart.

"If you never separate yourself from us we shall not lose you," she replied.

"Would to heaven I might not leave you but in death," I exclaimed.

She looked towards heaven, sighed, and leaning forward, a burning tear rolled on my hand.

"Do you doubt the constancy of my friendship," she said.

"Have I a right to your friendship, Clementine, and this noble heart? Alas! will it not some day beat more warmly for another? and then, Clementine, then – "

"Never! Alamontade," she said, rising quickly, and turning away her face, which was suffused with a gentle glow. I rose with ineffable rapture, clasped her in my arms, her bosom heaving with strong emotion, her cheeks glowing, and her looks expressing the words which her lips refused to utter.

Our souls were united, and made the everlasting compact. A trembling sigh was our vow, the world vanished like a shadow, and in a kiss we exchanged life for life.

Oh! what bliss has the hand of the Almighty infused even in the dust, and how much has it sweetened the lot of the spirit to be united with the earthly.

When we awoke from our pure rapture, and I could lisp Clementine's name, and she mine, all nature around was changed, and nothing was left of the former world. Every thing shone more gloriously and beautifully; the dull apartment resembled a temple, and a sweet spirit spoke from every object – from the pictures and from the carpet. Even the whispering of the trees was significant, and in the waving shadows of the leaves there was a secret expression of delight.

"I will remain," I exclaimed.

"And for ever," she added.

A few hours afterwards, when I saw Madame de Sonnes, I felt a slight timidity; but she came to me with a smile, and said, "What changes have you worked on Clementine? She is inspired. She speaks in verses. She steps as light as a fairy. But what do I see, Alamontade? Why do you blush? I am indebted to you. How shall I show my gratitude?"

Saying this, she embraced me with great affection, adding, "You are a noble man. I know well the dearest reasons you had for leaving us."

I was so confused that I could not reply.

"Singular enough, that I, after all, was not to guess your secret. You always wished to be the wiser, and so you are, Alamontade, but not this time! Do you think that I did not perceive your love for Clementine? Why did you make a secret of it to me, the mother of your beloved?"

"Madame, – " I faltered, more confused.

"I think you would, even now, deny it if you could," she said, in a pleasant tone. "I stood near you both when in the height of your happiness, you neither saw me nor the world around; and then I felt that I was not at all required to witness your betrothal. My daughter lives for you, make her happy, and then I shall be so too."

What kindness! I sank at her feet, and kissed her hand without being able to utter a word.

"Not so," she said, "a son must not kneel before his mother."

"Madame," I exclaimed, "you give more than the most daring hopes could – "

"Not I," she replied, "it is you, dear friend, who bring peace to our house. I am indeed a mother, but I have no command over my daughter's heart. Clementine has known you longer than I. On your account she has refused many offers; her hopes were centred in you. To complete her happiness is my duty. Now I know you, I bless Clementine's choice."

"This is too great kindness," I said; "it was indeed my resolution, some day, when my fortune should be adequate – but I am poor, Madame – "

"What has fortune to do with this affair?" answered the noble lady, "you have a respectable competency, and Clementine, beside having property of her own, is my heiress. The cares of life cannot trouble you; and should you ever, by any misfortune, lose all, you must retrench; you possess knowledge, activity, and honesty: with these you will always succeed."

In vain I stated several obstacles; she was above considering them important.

"No, sir," she said, "that you loved Clementine without regard to wealth I was well aware. And indeed the girl has sufficient worth of her own to be loved for herself only. Your delicacy, dear friend, is therefore not compromised; if you could aspire to her heart and conquer it, truly you need not blush at her bringing you a rich dowry. The heart which you possess is worth more than the paltry money to which you fear to aspire, as if it were too much. My daughter cannot be happier, if she marries with a man she does not love, though he has a million. She will only be rendered happy by the mind, nobleness, true love, and solicitude of her beloved."

"And – " said Clementine, bounding in with her charming simplicity, taking my hand, and looking affectionately in the eyes of her kind mother.

"You have chosen well," said Madame de Sonnes, embracing us both; "you always are more solicitous for your mother's happiness than for your own."

Clementine was now my betrothed; the whole family treated me with the greatest affection; I was looked upon as the beloved son, and possessed the esteem of the whole town. I had attained my supreme object, and it would be wearisome to describe the variety of my enjoyments.

Letters had arrived from London to the Mareschale de Montreval, as governor of the province, for my late father, together with the deeds of a large inheritance left him by a brother who had died in the West Indies. I hastened for a few days to Nismes to the mareschale by his order. He only showed me the letter from the London banker and a copy of the will, without being able to give me any further particulars.

The property had been already remitted to the government of Languedoc by draughts on the bank in Paris. This made me the possessor of an annual income of 4000 livres.

Although aware that one of my uncles, in his early days, had gone to America, from whence no news had ever arrived, I could scarcely believe that he had saved so large a fortune. Moreover the obscurity which enveloped several points requisite to be known in the account from London, inspired me with some suspicion as to this unexpected wealth, considered as an inheritance, though it appeared to me too large for a present. I wrote both to the London banker and the magistrate of the province in America, where my uncle was reported to have died; but never discovered more than I knew already. Hence I could not help thinking that Madame Bertollon had more to do with the inheritance than my uncle.

The mareschale appeared almost angry at my scruples. "Enjoy your undisputed property and have a dozen masses for uncle," he said; "and that you may not live altogether idle on your property, come to me and accept the first situation in my office. One condition, however, I must make, viz: that you live in my palace. I must see you daily, my affairs are numerous, and your advice will be valuable to me."

I thanked the mareschale for this honourable distinction, and only asked time for consideration before accepting a situation to which my attainments were not adequate. He overwhelmed me with civilities, and dismissed me with kindly menaces in case I did not soon resolve to comply with his wishes.

M. Etienne, my good old uncle, was elated with joy when he heard of the mareschale's offer to me.

"When you, Colas, came to me as a boy, in your smock-frock and wooden shoes, and so stood before me in your poverty, I was then touched in my heart, and heard, as it were, the voice of the spirit within me, commanding me to adopt you, because you would one day be the guardian angel of the oppressed believers. Behold, Colas, the Lord has done great things for you; you now stand again on the same spot of the poor miller's house, and are a highly honoured, learned, and rich man. Hesitate no longer to accept the offer of the mareschale. It is not his will, no, it is the will of God; it is not his calling, but it is the call of Heaven, which comes to you to afford comfort to the gospel Christians."

My uncle and his amiable family (in whose circle one daughter was missing, having been married), as well as his friends, who were all secret Protestants, did not desist in their most urgent remonstrances with me to accept the situation. I was obliged partly to promise that I would accept it; but it was still important to consult Clementine and her mother on the subject.

I had no sooner made the mareschale's proposal known to them, than both were at once agreed that I must not let slip an opportunity which promised me a larger sphere of activity.