Albert

“ It was for this, for this: that I might see him once more, once more in all his unearthly beauty, in his unmatched perfection: that I might see, and know that time has not marred, nor decay changed, nor the worm defiled the being I have idolized for nearly a century. Spared too to rejoice that my own Albert cannot behold the change which time, and life have wrought in a form he once loved so well. To him these withered arms and lips are welcome as if they yet retained all their former loveliness. He will not reject his early love for her age, and sickness, and unsightlessness. ”

“ Albert led the squire into the room, and then poured out and presented to him some wine, which he drank with eagerness, after which, drawing a long breath, he said,—
“I am much better now;—and so you found him. Do you not rejoice?”
“Indeed I do, sir,” said Albert, “and much I long for you to remove all restrictions from me, and allow me to proceed at once to the rescue of her I love.”
“All shall be speedily accomplished,” said Learmont; “have but a little patience, and all shall be as you ask. Not many days shall elapse when you shall have your heart’s desire.” ”

“ Surely he will come.”
“I hope you will find him honester than you suppose him to be,” remarked Albert.
“You hope I may find him honest! May all the torments of hell consume him!”
“Sir?”
“I—I don’t mean him. No matter—I am not quite well. Young man, beware, whatever you may see, hear, or surmise in this house, must remain locked in your own heart.”
“Sir,” said Albert shrinking from the basilisk glance of Learmont, “my duty is simple. I have but to obey your honourable orders, and I shall do so to the utmost of my humble ability. ”

“ Albert immediately spoke in a tone of such deep emotion that Sir Francis paused as he rose from his chair, and listened to him with an interest and a growing doubt of his guilty connexion with Learmont, that it would have given him the sincerest pleasure to verify.
“Sir,” said Albert, “I implore you for the sake of one for whom I have suffered much—one who I have loved, who I still love more fondly—more fervently than I love life itself, to search for the packet which long ago I told you was directed to yourself. How Jacob Gray came by his death as I hope for God’s mercy I know not.” ”

“ Albert’s heart was filled with envy, envy of the peasant. He envied him because he was so unlike himself, always thinking, always speculating on what was right and what was wrong. Albert wondered if he could make a peasant of himself and stop thinking and brooding. His thoughts drifted, he thought of Elfenbein, of Rudolph, of the chattering Hirsch and of scores of other men and women he knew. None of them were like the driver, and he could not be like any of them either. He thought of his uncle—a shrewd banker, a charitable man, a noble soul—no, he could not be like him either. ”

“ IV. In moments of revolt Albert always thought of leaving his fatherland forever, but then his love for the land that gave him birth would return—his innate fondness of the people about him would possess him, the memories of his childhood on the banks of the Rhine would hold him with chains of steel. He saw every fault in his compatriots, but the faults seemed so glaring to him, and stirred him so deeply, because he loved the people. ”

“ Figures had always been the bane of Albert’s existence and to answer this question one must deal with figures. A bitter smile suddenly appeared on his sensitive lips, and his eyes narrowed still more—mere fine lines of indefinable color. How did it all happen? A memory from his school days flitted across his brain and his smile was bitter no longer. “When you grow up,” his mathematics teacher had told him, “you’ll have to have some one else to count your money for you, or you won’t have any.” ”

“ Albert has never known a real care nor a real sorrow; and every earthly advantage conspires to the promise of his future. Alas! how much is there in life of which he little dreams!—and God forbid that its bitterest lessons should ever come within his experience! ”

“ MARGUERITE. I. Albert found time passing pleasantly and swiftly. Two more years had passed and he was still living the life of a literary journalist—visiting cafés, art galleries, places of amusement; dining at the homes of the elite, visiting notables, frequenting fashionable circles. He was trying to persuade himself that his was a happy existence—fame in Germany and even greater renown in Paris, his health fairly good save for an occasional headache, and his earnings considerable—but he could not shut his ears to the small voice calling from the very depth of his heart. ”

“ Albert is part of the world's inheritance. You may be Albert yourself--every one has been or will be Albert; Albert is in us all, just as I am in you all. Doris, too, is in you, dear lady who sit reading my book--Doris my three-days mistress at Orelay, and Doris the faithful spouse of Albert for twenty years in a lonely London suburb. ”

“ They cannot always succeed in keeping two rivals on terms with each other; but, when they do, they are the only gainers.
I cannot help esteeming Albert. The coolness of his temper contrasts strongly with the impetuosity of mine, which I cannot conceal. He has a great deal of feeling, and is fully sensible of the treasure he possesses in Charlotte. He is free from ill-humour, which you know is the fault I detest most.
He regards me as a man of sense; and my attachment to Charlotte, and the interest I take in all that concerns her, augment his triumph and his love. ”

“ As a result there was a never-dying smile on his face and something akin to mockery in his perpetually narrowed eyes. At times, however, he would forget his merchandise and indulge in conversation foreign to his business. All sorts of news was afloat in the air in those days—strange rumors from France, from Austria, from England and scores of new movements in Germany—and Albert gave free reign to his tongue. He made comments, coined epigrams, gave expression to cynical remarks, which were repeated in the Pavilions and, expatiated upon, were carried to his uncle. ”

“ Really, when one thinks of the very dull life, and particularly the life of constant self-denial, which my poor, dear Albert leads, he deserves every amusement in the world, and even about his amusements he is so accommodating that I am deeply touched by it. He is very fond of shooting, but it is all with the greatest moderation. Do you know that you never wished Albert joy of his birthday?
The state of politics in Europe is very critical, and one feels very anxious for the future.
With my dearest Albert's love, and mine, to my beloved Louise. ”

“ Albert thirsted for freedom. True, his biting irony often escaped the scrutinising eye of the stupid censor—his thoughts emanated properly censored from his brain, he jested—but he craved a moment’s respite. For a time he had again retired to Hamburg and buried himself in work. More songs, the publication of another book, planning new themes, pondering new subjects, ever yearning for love.
One day he received a call to edit a political journal. He was thrilled. He wished to awaken Young Germany; Old Germany, he realized, was hopeless. ”

“ And the thing was so much the more annoying, as, according to the characteristic modesty of a Frenchman, Albert had quitted Paris with the full conviction that he had only to show himself in Italy to carry all before him, and that upon his return he should astonish the Parisian world with the recital of his numerous love-affairs. Alas, poor Albert! ”

“ The men who had served the Lord of Abinger took vantage in every turn and twist of the hills. For Dick wood-ward knew every crease of the downs as a child knows his mother's breast. So they rode on, up and over the crest, and down on the westward side, heading ever for Cobham and Silvermere. And Albert's men toiled after them.
But Sir Albert stood by the gateway, leaning his head against it, and still he looked at the dead. One of the women who crept near, as women will, to watch, tells that his breath came hard, that he seemed to mutter to himself. ”

“ Day after day rolled heavily on, and Albert lay in utter darkness, ignorant of his destiny, unvisited by any being except the swart and bearded savage who brought the daily pittance, scarcely sufficient for the wants of his wretched existence.
Albert of Vermandois, a Burgundian youth of high nobility, and yet more exalted renown, had left his native land stung almost to madness by the early death of her to whom he had vowed his affections, and whose name he had already made “glorious by his sword,” from the banks of the Danube to the pillars of Hercules. ”

“ He felt no fear on his own account. A boy in years, he was a man in the ability to care for himself, wherever he might be. In a boyhood spent on an Illinois farm, where the prairies slope up to the forest, he had learned the ways of wood and field, and was full of courage, strength, and resource.
But Albert was different. He had not thrived in the moist air of the great valley. Tall enough he was, but the width of chest and thickness of bone were lacking. ”

“ They passed most of their time in Italy, mingling with people of rank and distinction, or travelling in search of health, as one or another of them showed symptoms of approaching disease. Albert was a young man of handsome appearance, and, we should judge, of no mean accomplishments. He was warm-hearted, remarkably sensitive, somewhat of a dreamer, romantic, poetical, and pure in heart. The life of a man of society he sanctified with the piety of a recluse. ”

“ Albert blushed for himself, when he heard old Lichtenstein praising his disinterested motives. Was it not for the sake of the beautiful daughter of the knight, that he had principally been induced to join his colours? and would he not sink in the esteem of this man, when, sooner or later, his real motive for embracing his party came to light? "You are too good," he answered; "the views of a man are often buried deeper than we at first sight think. ”

“ And yet to say that he was simply a doctrinaire would be a false description; for the pure doctrinaire rejoices always in an internal contentment, and Albert was very far from doing that. There was something that he wanted and that he could never get. What was it? Some absolute, some ineffable sympathy? Some extraordinary, some sublime success? Possibly, it was a mixture of both. To dominate and to be understood! To conquer, by the same triumphant influence, the submission and the appreciation of men—that would be worth while indeed! ”

“ Albert was living quietly in a district inhabited by the genteel poor—clerks, journalists, small shop-keepers, artists—and kept aloof from his compatriots. But the news he was receiving from “home”—for he never ceased thinking of Germany as his home—was disquieting. The news came to him from various sources, but chiefly from pilgrims who were coming to worship at his shrine. Every aspiring poet, every young writer with an idea in his head, every agitator, came either to pay homage to his genius or to see the poet in exile in order to give first-hand information to their friends at home. ”

“ I seldom remember being so gratified and pleased with any public show, and my beloved Albert was so enthusiastically received by the people. He is so beloved by all the really influential people, and by all right-thinking ones. ”

“ One day an admirer sought his acquaintance and became a worshipping friend. And he was a friend worth having. He was the sort of person Albert needed. He was a nobleman from Posen, a count with a genuine love for poetry; sympathetic, generous, young, handsome and entertained liberal religious views, though a Catholic by birth. Besides, he was an accomplished musician and had composed music for a few of Albert’s songs. Eager for recognition, chafing from the public’s neglect, the count’s praise was an infusion of new courage. ”

“ Albert found that he could think best as he wandered along the crowded sidewalks.
He soon found himself again thinking of his Fatherland. He was always thinking of his Fatherland. The soil of Germany was sacred to him, her language was music to his ears. He loved Paris, loved the French, but his heart beat for the land of the Rhine. He recalled a recent attack on him in a German newspaper. He was attacked on all sides. The radicals called him a traitor, the Junkers called him a revolutionist. But he did not mind. He was a little David with more than one smooth stone in his pouch. ”

“ Ah, indeed, every man must write his own Faust as he must brood over his own Ecclesiastes! Albert had often said this to himself and friends, and he now understood the full import of his saying. Like all true humorists, he passed quickly from mirth to sadness. There was nothing in life for him any longer, and it did not matter if he could only go to his lodging, fall asleep, and never wake again. ”

“ Albert grinned pleasantly at his brother.
"You don't have to beg me to stay," he said. "I like this valley. It has given me life and what is to be our fortune, our furs. Why not do all we can while we can? I'm in favor of the extra year, Dick." ”

“ Albert is not the man to satisfy the wishes of such a heart. He wants a certain sensibility; he wants—in short, their hearts do not beat in unison. How often, my dear friend, I'm reading a passage from some interesting book, when my heart and Charlotte's seemed to meet, and in a hundred other instances when our sentiments were unfolded by the story of some fictitious character, have I felt that we were made for each other! But, dear Wilhelm, he loves her with his whole soul; and what does not such a love deserve? ”

“ Now, when Albert heard this marvelous tale, he greatly doubted its truth, and was determined to put the matter to a test. As the moon was shining brightly, and the night was quiet, he armed, mounted, and immediately hastened to the plain of Wandlesbury, accompanied by a squire of noble blood. ”