Cihlar & Egeler - The Saint and her Fool

Herr Lohrmann mumbles: „I only give gratuity on leaving.”The Thorsteiner nods with a grin and hurries back to his glue, which seems to have the right temperature and disappears up to the salon again. Now there is yet to solve various problems; the carved disc of wood is properly adjusted under the golden curls, until the eyes do their duty with opening and closing, and then the actual work begins. The slightly warmed wax is poured over the disc. Now he models with his long artist hands of which every finger seems to have its own mind. With astonishing rapidity, a child’s face arises from only pre-shaped contours; a fine nose, apple-round cheeks, a mouth with an awakening smile, wide eyelids lower over the staring eyes. In their glassy blue, he paints a mysteriously dark colour line, which makes them look so real. A bashful maid enters the salon, doing a small curtsy and holding a half cold bowl of soup. „Pardon, my Lord, it is quite busy down there….”

He nods in consent and finishes his work. He has created a smaller image of his little Rose; the face seeming even younger and surrounded by the shining blond hair, only without the outline of slight pain which he had noticed in the child’s face yesterday and had immersed in his memory. He eats his semi-cold food in a great hurry because now he has to visit Seamstress-Rose, who lives near the high trees along the forest. He rushes out and takes long strides towards the village.

There, he meets children, wearing their new capes and muffs and most of them are chewing some cookies or gingerbread. Among them he even sees a red-haired sister of Seamstress-Rose and follows the child home. The seamstress is rather astonished to see the visitor on Christmas Eve. With a book on her lap, she sits amidst her Christmas gifts and looks at him with a friendly smile, fiery red hair surrounding her face. When he shows her his piece of art, she claps her hands in delight. „How lovely it is! You could think it is our little Princess, only that the Princess does not look as rosy and happy.” Time is too short for a fancy dress, but she still has material for a fine, white smock. She begins to rummage in a chest, cautioning the young brothers and sisters not to touch the lovely Princess doll. All the while she chatters: „Everyone likes to do good for the Princess. She is so gentle and kind and her life is not always easy. Lately, she has lost so much weight and the Misses and housekeepers are not always friendly to her.”

Harro is sitting on a chest with crossed legs and he lifts up the youngest red haired child on his knees, giving it a bumpy ride. This seems to please the seamstress and she speaks quite trustful.

„She likes Miss Braun the best because she laughs with her and lets her sometimes do what she wishes to do. But she is a bit careless. She probably is to blame that the Princess had been able to run away. She would not have dared to go, if Misses had been around. She is a horrible woman. She says that the Germans are pigs and the Princess seems to want to act like a pig also. This is because the Princess does not want to take a bath each morning. You can hear the poor thing screaming and whimpering through the whole palace wing. The child certainly does not do this out of disobedience; the Princess has no bad side to her. Who knows, if she did not run away because of this?”

„Who bathes the child?”

The seamstress looks up, startled. The Earl’s face looks as though he is suppressing tremendous anger. Dear God, had she said too much?

„Fräulein Braun,“ she answers, now intimidated. She seems to be in quite trouble already. Yesterday, she was frantic. The Duke did not want to investigate yet, whose fault it had been, but the Misses blames it on Fräulein Braun and she blames it on poor Babette.” In the meanwhile, her busy hands do not rest and it seems that the doll can be presented as a gift.

In the big hallway in front of the Duke’s private room, facing the magnificent Tournament Court with its three stone galleries and the famous collection of antlers on the wall, the Duke walks up and down with the Dominion Counsellor, a small, spindly man. The light reflecting the snow shines into the corridor, through the glazed facade facing the courtyard. The yellow glass eyes of a stuffed wild cat sparkle out of a niche and a slight breeze rustles the outstretched, silver-grey wings of a heron, which hangs down from the ceiling

„And now, Counsellor, please help me to choose. For heaven’s sake nothing trivial, the matter must have a personal touch.”

„Rahr and Brendel have sent their selection, since Your Highness wants a gift for the Magistrate – perhaps you will find something among it,” mumbles the counsellor.

„Oh, it is always the same; the relevant gifts are always the most difficult. A committed gift could be misunderstood by the Thorsteiner. His father was a most pleasant neighbour to me. What a pity that his son has ruined his life because of the fire.”

The Dominion Counsellor shrugs; expressing his own view seems not opportune at the moment.

„And if we looked through the older things? Artists are said to have joy with antiques.”

The two men walk down a spiral staircase, leading to the lower gallery, which is open to the courtyard and a cold breeze whisks through the room. At the end of the corridor, a small dark room appears, the walls lined with built-in iron cupboards. The Counsellor goes to fetch the keys and the Duke steps into the deep niche under the barred window. Outside, the snow fall has increased and the forest can only be faintly seen, shimmering against the bare wall of the mountain. The Duke wistfully gazes out and his handsome dark eyes lose the hardness, which they sometimes show. His hair and beard are trimmed and still dark brown, his striking facial features with the pointed beard and slightly protruding eyes appear in the shadows of the dim snow light as if out of an old painting, as he leans against the niche. His face has a somewhat tired expression, lined with the fatigue of generations, which have witnessed many centuries of turbulent and often so pitiful German lives; a history of royal bloodline, carrying the responsibility for the outcome of the nation, not as light-hearted as the humble people in the little village. He feels as if the last grain is running out of the hourglass; how soon will this generation be embedded to rest forever. To where so many have gone ahead and now sleep in shining tin caskets, covered with coats of arms and phrases, inside of a dark, wooden chest. So many, that there seems to be only one more space beside the coffin made of silver, in which the Duke’s only happiness in life rests. Why had his thoughts wandered back to this time of unbearable mourning? Is this due to the mystic moonlight, shining against the snow or because of this dark room, where so many hidden treasures of the past lie? Precious gems and gold that had once shone on white young bosoms, draped around fine foreheads, never to shine again on the hands and bodies of the ones now gone in eternal absence.

Here lie the emeralds, which his wife had worn to the splendid royal festivities. There they are… the Counsellor has come with the keys and a large book. The bracelet embedded on white velvet – the green stones glitter as they always had, as they had once on the delicate arm of his beloved wife, the arm that had circled his neck with loving gestures. The Duke gently picks up the bracelet and lets it glide through his fingers.

„This will once belong to my daughter.” His hand is slightly shaking. „Close this box; I had meant the older things.”

The Counsellor now opens a box very reluctantly because actually only he, with his secret enthusiasm for precious collections, and this book, have witnessed the contents. These things all have a connection to the fate and fortune of the past. Among the items, some of their usage unknown today, blazes some barbarous-looking ruby jewellery, mounted in a baroque work of silver. Hanging blood-drops, one might think. Strangely adorned must the woman have been, who had worn it. The Duke takes out the necklace, it has no date on the fastening in comparison to other pieces of jewellery, just a small cardboard label with printed letters: