Delphi Collected Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe \(Illustrated\) pdfdrive com

CHAPTER XIV.

Our  friends  had  sought  out  other  lodgings,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and

were  by  this  means  much  dispersed.  Wilhelm  had  conceived  a  liking  for  the

garden-house,  where  he  had  spent  the  night  of  the  conflagration:  he  easily

obtained the key, and settled himself there. But Aurelia being greatly hampered

in her new abode, he was obliged to retain little Felix with him. Mignon, indeed,

would not part with the boy.

He  had  placed  the  children  in  a  neat  chamber  on  the  upper  floor:  he  himself

was in the lower parlor. The young ones were asleep at this time: Wilhelm could

not sleep.

Adjoining the lovely garden, which the full moon had just risen to illuminate,

the black ruins of the fire were visible; and here and there a streak of vapor was

still  mounting  from  them.  The  air  was  soft,  the  night  extremely  beautiful.

Philina,  in  issuing  from  the  theatre,  had  jogged  him  with  her  elbow,  and

whispered something to him, which he did not understand. He felt perplexed and

out of humor: he knew not what he should expect or do. For a day or two Philina

had  avoided  him:  it  was  not  till  to-night  that  she  had  given  him  any  second

signal.  Unhappily  the  doors,  that  he  was  not  to  bolt,  were  now  consumed:  the

slippers  had  evaporated  into  smoke.  How  the  girl  would  gain  admission  to  the

garden, if her aim was such, he knew not. He wished she might not come, and

yet he longed to have some explanation with her.

But what lay heavier at his heart than this, was the fate of the harper, whom,

since  the  fire,  no  one  had  seen.  Wilhelm  was  afraid,  that,  in  clearing  off  the

rubbish, they would find him buried under it. Our friend had carefully concealed

the  suspicion  which  he  entertained,  that  it  was  the  harper  who  had  fired  the

house.  The  old  man  had  been  first  seen,  as  he  rushed  from  the  burning  and

smoking floor, and his desperation in the vault appeared a natural consequence

of  such  a  deed.  Yet,  from  the  inquiry  which  the  magistrates  had  instituted

touching the affair, it seemed likely that the fire had not originated in the house

where  Wilhelm  lived,  but  had  accidentally  been  kindled  in  the  third  from  that,

and had crept along beneath the roofs before it burst into activity.

Seated in a grove, our friend was meditating all these things, when he heard a

low  footfall  in  a  neighboring  walk.  By  the  melancholy  song  which  arose  along

with  it,  he  recognized  the  harper.  He  caught  the  words  of  the  song  without

difficulty: it turned on the consolations of a miserable man, conscious of being

on the borders of insanity. Unhappily our friend forgot the whole of it except the

---

last verse: —

“Wheresoe’er my steps may lead me, Meekly at the door I’ll stay: Pious hands

will  come  to  feed  me,  And  I’ll  wander  on  my  way.  Each  will  feel  a  touch  of

gladness When my aged form appears: Each will shed a tear of sadness, Though

I reck not of his tears.”

So  singing,  he  had  reached  the  garden-door,  which  led  into  an  unfrequented

street.  Finding  it  bolted,  he  was  making  an  attempt  to  climb  the  railing,  when

Wilhelm held him back, and addressed some kindly words to him. The old man

begged  to  have  the  door  unlocked,  declaring  that  he  would  and  must  escape.

Wilhelm  represented  to  him  that  he  might  indeed  escape  from  the  garden,  but

could  not  from  the  town;  showing,  at  the  same  time,  what  suspicions  he  must

needs incur by such a step. But it was in vain: the old man held by his opinion.

Our friend, however, would not yield; and at last he brought him, half by force,

into  the  garden-house,  in  which  he  locked  himself  along  with  him.  The  two

carried on a strange conversation; which, however, not to afflict our readers with

repeating  unconnected  thoughts  and  dolorous  emotions,  we  had  rather  pass  in

silence than detail at large.

---