



Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive





Transcriber's Note:
Page scan source:
http://www.archive.org/details/onheightsanovel01auergoog






                           BY THE SAME AUTHOR


                         THE VILLA ON THE RHINE
                Leisure Hour Series, 2 vols. 16mo. $2.00


                       HENRY HOLT & CO., NEW YORK






                             ON THE HEIGHTS

                               _A NOVEL_


                                   BY

                           BERTHOLD AUERBACH


                             TRANSLATED BY
                           SIMON ADLER STERN




                                NEW YORK
                         HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
                                  1907






       Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1875, by
                              HENRY HOLT,
       In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.






                            ON THE HEIGHTS.





                                BOOK I.




                               CHAPTER I.



Early mass was being celebrated in the chapel attached to the royal
summer palace.

The palace stood on a slight eminence in the center of the park. The
eastern <DW72> of the hill had been planted with vineyards, and its
crest was covered with mighty, towering beeches. The park abounded with
maples, plane-trees and elms, with their rich foliage, and firs of
various kinds, while the thick clusters of needles on the fir-leaved
mountain pine showed that it had become acclimated. On grassy lawns
there were solitary tall pines of perfect growth. A charming variety of
flowers and leaf plants lent grace to the picture which, in all its
details, showed evidence of artistic design and exquisite taste.

The paths were neatly kept. The flowers were sparkling with the dews of
morning; birds were singing and the air was laden with the fragrant
perfume of the new-mown grass. Swans, and rare varieties of ducks from
foreign lands, were swimming in the large lake, on the banks of which
the bright-hued flamingo might also have been seen. The fountain in the
center of the lake sent its waters to such a height that they were lost
in spray.

A clear mountain brook, running between alders and weeping-willows, and
under many a rustic bridge, emptied into the lake, flowing thence
through the valley until it reached the river, bright glimpses of which
might here and there be caught through openings in the shrubbery.

Tables, chairs and benches of graceful form had been placed under the
trees and at various points that commanded a fine prospect.

Seated near the chapel there was a man of impressive appearance. His
dress betokened scrupulous care. His thick hair was as white as his
cravat. His eyes were blue and sparkling, and full of youthful fire. He
looked out upon the broad landscape, the valley crowded with fruit-trees,
the near-lying hills, and the mountain beyond, whose lines stood
out in bold relief against the blue sky above. He had a book in his
hand, but now laid it aside and drank in the peaceful influences of the
scene before him.

The great door of the chapel was open: the mighty sounds of the organ
were heard; a soft cloud of incense floated out on the morning air and
then vanished into space.

This impressive-looking man was the king's physician, Doctor Gunther,
who, being a Protestant, had not attended mass.

Just then, a beautiful woman, carrying an open sunshade, stepped out
from the veranda which was almost concealed by trellised vines. She
wore a full, white robe, and her headdress was a simple morning cap
with blue ribbons. Her bright, rosy face beamed with youth and beauty;
her hair was of a golden hue and she seemed the very incarnation of
glorious day.

The doctor, hearing the rustling of her dress, had at once advanced and
made his obeisance.

"Good-morning, doctor!" said the lady, whose two female companions had
kept a few steps to the rear. Her voice was not clear and bright, but
suggestive of the soulful violoncello-tone which is more properly the
vehicle of intense and fervent feeling, than of loud-voiced joy.

"What a charming day!" continued the lady; "and yet, for that very
reason, doubly sad to those who are obliged to pass it in a sick-room.
How is our dear Countess Brinkenstein?"

"The countess, may it please Your Majesty, may safely take the air for
an hour to-day."

"I'm delighted to hear you say so. Sadness and sickness should indeed
both be unknown in this lovely spot."

"The countess must regard herself as doubly fortunate, now that she is
able to perform the interesting duties that await her."

"Speak softly," suddenly said the queen, for the sounds of the organ
had ceased; the time of the consecration had arrived. "Ah, dear doctor,
I should like to confide a secret to you."

The other ladies stepped aside, while the queen and the doctor walked
up and down on the open space in front of the chapel.

"From one's physician, nothing should be kept concealed," said the
doctor; "Your Majesty credited me, not long since, with the possession
of a stethoscope by means of which I could note the movements of the
soul itself."

"Yes," replied the queen, her face mantled with blushes, "I've already
thought of applying to you for ghostly advice, but that were
impracticable; such matters I must settle for myself. But I've a
request to make of you as the physician."

"Your Majesty has but to command--"

"No, that can't be done in this instance. What I meant was--"

At that moment, the bell began to toll, and the king came out of the
chapel. He wore the simple dress of a citizen and was without
decorations of any kind. He was followed by the gentlemen and ladies of
the court, the former of whom were also in citizen's dress, and, for
the greater part, wore the picturesque costume of the mountaineers of
that region.

The king was a man of stately appearance and erect bearing. He bowed to
the queen from afar, and hastened forward to meet her. The ladies and
gentlemen composing his train remained in the background exchanging
kindly greetings. The king addressed a few words to the queen, whereat
she smiled; he, too, seemed happy, and, offering her his arm, led her
toward the pavilion. The ladies and gentlemen followed, indulging in
cheerful and unconstrained conversation by the way.

A young lady, leaving the rest of the party, joined the doctor and
grasped his hand most cordially. She was of a tall and graceful figure;
her hair and eyes were brown. She wore a simple, light- summer
dress and a loose jacket which was open and revealed the full
chemisette. A leather girdle studded with steel buttons encircled her
waist. Her movements were easy and graceful; her expression, half
earnest, half mischievous. "Might I ask," said she, addressing the
doctor, "the name of the book you've found worth reading on this lovely
morning?"

"It was well worth reading, although, to tell the truth, I've not
opened it," replied the doctor, while he handed the little book to her.
It was Horace.

"Oh, it's Latin!" said the lady. Her voice was as clear and bold as
that of a chaffinch. "And this, I suppose, is your mass."

The doctor briefly alluded to the success with which the ancient
writers had compressed so many