Irretrievable (15 page)

“A good thing that no harm could come from it,” laughed the girl, “because I cannot imagine a conversation more suitable to be overheard.”

Holk, rather nettled by this remark, was about to say so, when, before he could answer, they reached the broad terrace steps leading to the castle. At the foot of the steps stood an old gamekeeper who was at the same time the caretaker and who respectfully doffed his cap as the Princess approached and ordered coffee to be served upstairs in the large central gallery. She said this in a loud voice for all to hear, but she then drew the servant to one side for a moment to make further arrangements with him. “Not later than five o'clock,” she said in conclusion. “Evening comes before one realizes it and we need a good light.”

The old man bowed, the Princess walked on towards the castle and, leaning on the countess's arm, climbed to the top floor. Here in the central gallery, high arm-chairs had already been placed round a long oak table and the balcony windows facing east and west had been opened, so that the whole magnificent landscape could be admired as if through two vast picture frames. The flat meadows surrounding the castle on all sides seemed to have disappeared, for they were too close to be seen, but the distant prospect was clear and bright and whilst, on the left, the tree-tops of a broad stretch of woodland twinkled in the rays of the declining sun, on the right could be seen the blue, shimmering surface of the sea. Holk and Ebba would have liked to have remained standing in order to enjoy the view more fully from both windows but this the Princess refused to allow. She knew all about landscape, she said, and could assure them that the view was best exactly as it was. What is more, coffee (and the caretaker's wife appeared at this moment with a tray set with an exquisite Meissen coffee service), coffee must not be neglected either, and as far as the magnificent meadows were concerned, which in any case were not visible for the moment, they would make their appearance later on. All in its own good time. “And now, my dear Schimmelmann, please do the honours. Frankly, I am longing for some refreshment. The distance may not be great but it was quite far enough for me.”

The Princess was in the best of humours, as was shown, amongst other things, by her talkativeness which was even greater than usual. She joked about that too, and asked Pentz, who seemed very silent today, to
indemnify
her.

“Indemnify,” she continued, “even that word is one of those everlasting parliamentary expressions. But parliamentary expression or not, I really have a right to indemnification, to remission of sentence, inasmuch as there is no place, not even excluding my dear Fredericksborg, where I feel that I can chat so freely as here. There were times when I came here almost every day and enjoyed all this magnificent sea and forest for hours. To be sure, if I were to say that this pleasure was what is commonly known as happiness, I should be incorrect. All that I have ever known here is peace, which is not as much as happiness, yet in some ways more. Peace is the best thing.”

Holk suddenly pricked up his ears. It seemed to him that he had heard those very words only a short while before. But where? And after a moment of searching, all at once he remembered the evening at Holkenäs and Elizabeth Petersen's clear voice and once again he seemed to hear the song. It was not a week ago yet already it seemed far, far away.

The Princess must have noticed that Holk's attention had wandered and so, leaving her generalities, she continued: “You will hardly guess, my dear Holk, what coast-line that is which we can see through the window.”

“I thought that it was Sweden.”

“No, not really. It is Hven, the little island on which our famous Tycho de Brahe built his observatory, his ‘star-castle' as they called it. Yes, I always think of the Brahes with much love and affection, for personal reasons. It must be forty-five years ago since Ebba Brahe, the court beauty of the day, was my lady-in-waiting and my friend as well, which meant much more to me. Because we need friends always and at all times” (here the Princess stretched out her hand to Countess Schimmelmann) “and especially when we are young and in the first year of our marriage. Pentz is smiling, of course. He doesn't know what the first year of a marriage is like.”

The Baron bowed and seemed about to express not only his agreement but a certain humorous satisfaction at this statement, but the Princess forestalled him and said: “But I wanted to talk about Ebba Brahe. There is a sort of blessing attached to certain names and I've always been lucky with my Ebbas. I can see it as if it were yesterday, the day I pointed over to Hven from this very spot and said to Ebba Brahe: ‘Now Ebba, would you not like to change? Don't you long to be over there, in the castle of your ancestors?' But she refused to listen to me, and I can still remember her saying in her enchanting voice: ‘The view from the Hermitage to Hven is much lovelier for me than the view from Hven to the Hermitage.' And then she began to joke and say that she was completely earthy, far too earthy to be enthusiastic about the ‘star-castle.' Amongst all the stars, she said, it was only the earth that interested her, and the others were merely there to illuminate it by night. Oh, she was charming and lovable, the darling of everybody, and I might almost say that she was more of an Ebba than a Brahe, whereas our Ebba …”

The Princess stopped suddenly.

“Is more of a Rosenberg than an Ebba,” interposed the young woman, bowing with the greatest aplomb to the Princess.

Hearty laughter in which even Erichsen and Countess Schimmelmann, the two most passive pillars of the company, felt compelled to join, greeted this charming act of self-depreciation, for everybody knew the girl's family tree only too well and quite understood the implication of her words, not least the Princess who was about to make some particularly friendly remark to Ebba when the old gamekeeper appeared in the doorway, thus giving the Princess the prearranged signal. They all stood up and went out on to the overhanging balcony from which they had a superb prospect of the great mass of woodland which filled the whole horizon to the west. The intervening meadow-land was also extensive but in a few places the forest encroached on it and from theses projecting spinnies there now appeared small herds of deer, which then came out into the plain and, playfully, neither quickly nor slowly, trotted towards the Hermitage. Ebba was enraptured but before she could speak she saw that in the background the whole broad stretch of woodland was beginning to come to life and just as the isolated herds had come out of the spinnies, scores and scores of them now appeared out of the more distant depths of the forest and, anxious not to miss the impending parade, broke into a lively trot, at first all confused and jumbled together until, as they approached, they formed themselves into orderly groups and moved past the Hermitage in squadrons. Finally, after the last of them had passed, they once more scattered over the meadow and now for the first time they could be seen as a whole. All sizes and colours were represented and although Ebba admired the black stags, still more did she admire the white hinds, which were relatively even more numerous. But Ebba could never remain serious for long and, quoting various lines from Danish and German folk-songs, she declared that fallow deer had always been the most popular characters with the exception of white hinds, which were even more important. Pentz, for his part, refused to accept this view and strongly asserted that the Princess and the Page took precedence and always would, to which the Princess assented with a touch of melancholy “I accept what Pentz says and you mustn't contradict him. We poor princesses have very little left in any case and we have almost been pushed out of the world of reality already, so that if we lose our place in ballads and fairy-tales as well, I hardly know where we shall be able to go.” They were all silent, realizing only too well the truth of what she had said and it was left to Ebba to kiss her benefactress's hand and say: “Dear Princess, there is, thank Heaven, still plenty left to do: you will always be a refuge for others and make them happy and able to laugh at prejudice.” It was plain that these words comforted the Princess, perhaps because she sensed that, although they came from Ebba, they were more than mere words; but in spite of this she shook her head and said: “Dear Ebba, all that will soon be a fairy-tale as well.”

While they had been talking, the carriages, which they had been intending to go to meet, had come up to the terrace steps and the Princess, realizing that dusk was falling, bringing with it the cool of evening, stated that she would forgo her walk and start the return journey straightaway. “But we shall arrange ourselves differently and I hereby release the gentlemen from accompanying me.”

This arrangement was to everyone's taste. The Princess took her seat with Countess Schimmelmann beside her and Ebba opposite; Pentz, Holk and Erichsen followed in the second carriage. When they passed through Klampenborg, the front of the officers' marquee was closed and only a narrow strip of light was shining out through a small crack on to the dark lawn in front. A few words from a speech were carried on the wind as they passed and then this, too, ceased and only cheers and shouts of approval could still be heard in the evening air.

The
return journey was made without any untoward incident but not without a certain
médisance
, to which Ebba was strongly addicted. The story of the Rosenbergs and the various branches of the family was naturally a heaven-sent opportunity. “Poor count,” she said. “It certainly is true that he studies everything very thoroughly. Naturally enough, of course, because he's a German, and especially in genealogical matters you always need to keep probing and searching. I'm sure he never fails to seize on every name and if I had been unlucky enough to be baptized Cordelia, I wager anything that he would have asked me all about old Lear straight away.” The Princess gave Ebba an affectionate tap on her hand, more to encourage her than otherwise, and she went on: “He's rather like a museum catalogue with historical commentary. I can still see his face as Your Highness was talking of Tycho de Brahe and pointing over to Hven island. He was completely absorbed and his soul was obviously yearning for a talk on cosmology. That would have been just the subject for him, all the way back to Ptolemy. Thank Heaven something prevented him because quite frankly as far as I'm concerned astronomy is even more boring than genealogy.”

The following day was spent in similar gossip, though this did not prevent Holk from receiving the friendliest treatment from the ladies, so friendly as not only to flatter him but to put him in the best possible humour. It was in this mood that he returned to his comfortable lodgings and while eating his breakfast the following day, he once more realized all the excitement and stimulation that he derived from his life at court. How dull, in comparison, seemed the days he spent at home, and when he recalled that in ten minutes time he would have to sit down at his desk and report all his impressions to Holkenäs, he felt appalled to think how difficult it would be to strike the right note. And yet the tone was far more important than the contents, for Christine knew how to read between the lines.

He was still reflecting when there was a knock on the door and Frau Hansen came in, not the mother this time but Brigitte the daughter. He had scarcely caught a glimpse of her since the first evening but he had not forgotten how she looked, even when he was talking with Ebba. Brigitte's appearance at this moment portrayed what might be termed a subdued grandeur; grand, because she was well aware of the power of her beauty; subdued, because she realized her modest social position, at least as long as the count was a lodger in her house. With a brief “Good-morning,” she walked, upright and almost statuesque, straight to the table and began to collect up the breakfast things, while in her left hand she held a large tray in front of her bosom. Holk had meanwhile risen from his seat in the window to give her a friendly handshake.

“Welcome, dear Frau Hansen, and if you have the time to spare …”

He waved a polite hand towards a chair, at the same time returning to the window-seat. However, the young woman remained standing, still holding the japanned tray in front of her like a shield, and looked calmly and without the slightest trace of embarrassment at the count, evidently expecting him to add something. Holk could not fail to notice her studied demeanour and especially her way of dressing. She was wearing the same house-dress that she had worn the first evening, loose and comfortable, without cuffs or collar, because these would have detracted from the effect of the wearer. Her neck and shoulders were particularly lovely and had, as it were, a complexion all their own. This same calculated effect showed in every detail. Her full half-length house-coat with a loose belt of the same material, although seemingly without shape or cut, merely served to reveal her own shape more plainly. She looked exactly like the traditional picture of a beautiful Dutch girl and involuntarily Holk found himself glancing at her ears to see if she was wearing the appropriate flat gold ear-rings. As she continued to meet his glance unwaveringly, he continued: “I notice you prefer to remain standing so that you can be seen full-length and I see that you know exactly what you are doing, my charming Frau Brigitte. Really, if, at the time of your trip from Shanghai to Bangkok which your mother was telling me about yesterday, I had been the Emperor of Siam, I should have made quite other arrangements in the matter of the throne in front of the palace and instead of sitting, which is never so attractive, I should have made you stand beside the throne and just rest your arm on its ivory back. Then we should have seen which of the two was whiter, the ivory or the arm of the beautiful Frau Hansen.”

“Oh,” said Brigitte with well-simulated embarrassment, “Mother is always talking about that as if it was something special but it was really only a game.”