in a small parlor in the city of berlin, where, fifty years ago, young sibyl's heart had thrilled to words of love, sat a party of young men, over their wine, while mirth and song flowed freely.
light-hearted, and free from care, they had met to pass the evening hours, with songs and wondrous tales.
"come my good fellows," said the eldest, who appeared to be the leader of the group, "we must relate our stories, as the hours are waning. krepsel, we will hear from you first, to-night."
"shall the tale be sad or gay?" said krepsel, looking around the group.
"either," exclaimed the voices in chorus. he took a glass of wine and then commenced.
"many years ago a young man was studying in a military academy in this city, who, a few weeks after his entrance, had a strange dream, or vision, which changed all the future which he had mapped out for himself. he had a great love of art, and was often found with his pencil and paper, apart from others, instead of mingling in their recreations. for several nights, he dreamed that a lovely female approached his bed-side, and bent over him with a look of affectional interest.
"the vision so vividly impressed him that he employed his first leisure moment in sketching the lovely face. at every touch and line, his admiration grew more intense, until at length he could scarcely keep the fair image from being ever prominent in his mind. it haunted his day dreams, till he could scarcely conceal his impatience to relate the strange vision to his mother and sister. the fair one stood each night at his side, until the first day of his vacation season arrived, and he left to pass its days at home. when within a few miles of his destination, he saw the same face before his waking vision. this time her features were sad, but not less lovely. indeed the air of melancholy gave the features a deeper charm, and more strongly than ever he desired to reach his home, and find, if possible, a solution of the strange apparition.
"at last the hills of his native town rose to his view; then the old pines which sheltered his home. soon he felt the warm tears on his cheek, and the soft arms of his mother and sister around his neck.
"'where is reinhold?' he asked, after he had released himself from their embrace.
"he is away to-day; gone to a fair, but will be back by supper time, and bring his fair affianced.
"'reinhold engaged!' exclaimed conrad, in tones so strange that marie, his sister, turned pale. but his quick return to himself assured her that he was not angry, as she supposed, only surprised; and taking his proffered arm they walked together in the garden-talking of old scenes and pleasures, till even the fair face of his vision was forgotten, and he rested his eyes in tender, brotherly love, on the fair girl at his side.
"they were in close conversation, so earnest, they did not hear the approaching footsteps, when the well-known voice of his brother called:
"'welcome, conrad; welcome home,' and the next instant a pair of stout arms were around him.
"'i believe he is stronger than you, con., with all your military drills,' said marie, laughing to see her brother trying to extricate himself.
"'i am so glad you have come,' said reinhold, 'i want you to see your new sister,' then he called her from where she stood apart from them, behind a clump of trees. conrad's back was towards her when she approached, and he turned, at his brother's words.
"'miss rosa,--conrad, my brother,' and for the first time he looked on the face that had so long haunted his dreams.
"'my god!' he said, 'it is the same,' and fell prostrate on the ground.
"the poor girl flew to the house, laid her head on the shoulder of reinhold's mother, and wept bitterly. she, too, had seen his face in her dreams, and supposed it an ideal which she should never meet. she had seen it before she met reinhold, and thought as she looked on him, that he approximated somewhat to it, nearer then she even hoped to see, and had grown day by day to love him, not as one ought a lover, but tenderly like a brother.
"the deepest anxiety seized the good parents, and marie, to fathom the cause of conrad's strange state. they carried him to the house, where he lay insensible for hours, but once only his lips parted, and then he breathed the name of 'rosa,' in accents so tender, that his brother, who stood bending over him, in agony of grief at his state, flew from the room.
"in half an hour conrad started as though shot, and rose from the bed with blood-filled eyes, and wildest terror on his features. he placed his hand upon his heart, and then sinking on his knees, cried, imploringly, 'god forgive me; i have killed my brother!'
"'go and call reinhold, marie,' said the affrighted father, 'and prove to the poor boy that his brother is alive and well. o, what has come over our happy home.'
"marie flew from room to room; no reinhold was to be found. then to the garden, calling his name at each step. a wild fear seized her young heart; her brain grew giddy; yet on she went, calling again and again his name. as though impelled by an unseen force, she flew till she reached the edge of a wood, where herself and brothers had played together. she went on. something lay on the ground; an object, she could not at first discover what. a cold chill run through her frame. the blood seemed to stagnate in every vein, for there, under an old oak, lay the lifeless body of reinhold.
"she fainted, and fell. the cool air blew on her temples and restored her to consciousness. she passed her hand over her forehead, as though trying to recall some terrible dream,--and then it all burst upon her mind, more fearful and appalling in its rebound.
"'my mother, my father,' were the only words that broke from her lips, and she went back, slowly, for the fright and agony had almost paralyzed her brain and limbs.
"'you were gone a long time,' said her anxious parents, who did not see her face when she entered; 'where is reinhold?'
"she had no words. the deathly face, the beating heart, and the trembling limbs, told all. she led them to the spot, and the mystery appeared still deeper.
"seven days conrad lay in a raging fever. at their close, reason returned, and they learned from him the vision which had so haunted him, and wondered over the strange phase of life, in which action had been involuntary, but dual.
"they buried reinhold under the tree where he had shot himself, and kept it covered with flowers, watered by tears.
"poor rosa returned to her home with her good parents, and pined slowly away. conrad held his brother's memory sacred, and never breathed words of love to his affianced. 'she will be his in heaven,' he said, as he walked with his sister one day to his grave; and when the summer flowers faded they made another beside it, for rosa went to join reinhold, and to guard, with tender love, conrad and marie."
krepsel rose from the chair. the hours were waning.
"we can have but one more," said the leader, "and from whom shall it be?"
"from berthhold," cried several voices.
"i have seen his eyes full of strange, weird tales to-night," said one.
"i know by his far-off look he has something interesting to say," said another.
"berthhold, take the chair," said the leader.
he rose, walked like one in a dream, took the seat, gazed a few moments around, and then commenced:
"my story will be told in a few words. it is not of tradition, but experience."
all eyes turned to the youth, whose face glowed with a strange light, as he commenced.
"while sitting here to-night, listening to the story just narrated, my eyes have seen something i never saw before, and i pray i may not again see, at least until my nerves are stronger."
"what was it? what was it like?" they all cried together, while berthhold looked around the room, as though expecting the vision to be repeated.
they were called to order by their leader, and he went on,--
"a soft, misty light filled the room, and rested at last just before me. i strained my eyes to assure myself that i was not dreaming, and looked upon all your faces to assure myself that i was of the earth, and not a spirit. then my eyes seemed to be fastened upon the light. in vain i tried to remove them; i could not; and only hoped none of you would notice me.
"soon a face, radiant and fair, burst from the mist; one almost too lovely to gaze upon. i was spellbound as i gazed, then the vision of the face faded. i seemed to float away, far over the sea, and there came before my sight a low, humble cot, whose walls offered no resistance to my vision. they seemed like glass as i looked through them, and saw sitting in a chair an old woman, wrinkled and faded, her hair white as snow, but on her face a peace which gathers on those who sleep the last sleep.
"i also felt conscious of another presence, but could not see any one. then all was dark again. i saw neither mist nor cot, but something spoke to me. a voice whispered in my ear, 'tell milan i forgive him.' that is the name of my mother's father."
"how strange," said the listeners, who had followed him closely to the end.
"does your grandfather still live?" inquired one.
"he was alive this morning, and is now, for aught i know."
the party were about to separate, when a messenger entered in great haste, and called for berthold, stating that his (berthold's) grandfather was very ill, and greatly desired his presence.
he was not long in answering the summons, leaving those who had listened to his story wondering over it, which wonder was not a little increased by this sudden call.
it was thought that the old gentleman was dying, but when berthold went and sat by his side he brightened up, and motioned for the others to leave the room.
"i have been very ill," he said, grasping the hand of his grandson, "and have had a terrible dream. for fear i may some day depart suddenly, i wish to tell you of a portion of my early life, that you may avoid the sin, and escape the suffering which i have endured."
he then related the wrong of his early years, in deluding a young and pure girl, while loving another.
"have you a picture of the one you allude to," asked berthold.
his grandfather started as though a voice from the other world had spoken to him.
"why, how do you know that? no one but myself knows that i carry her miniature about me."
"may i see it?" asked his grandson, not a little alarmed at the excited manner of the sick man.
"yes,--that is if no one knows it,--not even laura. mind, berthold, your grandmother knows nothing of this,--not a word."
berthold's word was sacred, and the old man drew from his pocket an oval case of blue velvet, ornamented with pearls.
"here, look, and be quick; i fear some one may come; and if, if i should die, berthold, take this and keep it forever."
"i will," said the faithful boy, as he unclasped the case.
was he dreaming? there, before him, was the same; yes, the very same fair face he saw in the mist. he could not take his eyes from the picture, so strange was the spell.
"i have seen this face to-night, grandfather," said berthold, going close to him, and laying his hand upon his brow.
"seen what! seen her? sibyl! o, god, she must have died."
he sank back exhausted on his pillow.
"did it-did she speak?" he gasped, as he revived.
"yes. she said, 'tell milan i forgive him!'"
"berthold, laura, quick! o come,--my breath is go-. i--am--dy--."
he, too, was gone; gone before his wife could be summoned; gone to meet one he had so greatly wronged, perhaps to learn of her beautiful truths, which her sad life experience had taught her; and perchance to woo her soul, this time with truth and love.
berthold kept the miniature, and when, after a few months, the club met again, confirmed the truth of the story he had startled them with that night. he could never account for the lowly cot, and the old wrinkled woman, but he remembered his grandfather's dying words, and never wooed where he knew he could not give his heart and soul; nor was his vision ever again unfolded, but one of heaven's choicest, purest women was given him to love, and in her high and spiritual life, his soul grew to sense that which by sight he could not obtain.
