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Read Ebook: The Imitation of Earth by Stamers James Carter Illustrator
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Ebook has 104 lines and 7411 words, and 3 pages
Translator: Clara Bell
Transcriber's Note:
OUR OWN SET
A NOVEL
OSSIP SCHUBIN
From the German by CLARA BELL
REVISED AND CORRECTED IN THE UNITED STATES
NEW YORK WILLIAM S. GOTTSBERGER, PUBLISHER 11 MURRAY STREET 1884
THIS TRANSLATION WAS MADE EXPRESSLY FOR THE PUBLISHER
Press of William S. Gottsberger New York
OUR OWN SET
THE CARNIVAL.
Among the distinguished Austrians who were spending the winter in Rome were the Otto Ilsenberghs. Otto Ilsenbergh, one of the leading members of the Austrian feudal aristocracy, was in Rome professedly for his health, but in reality solely in order to avail himself of the resources of the Vatican library in compiling that work on the History of Miracle which he has lately given to the world under a quaint pseudonym. He and his wife with a troup of red-haired Ilsenberghs, big and little, inhabited a straggling, historical palazzo on the Corso, with a glacial stone staircase and vast drawing-rooms which looked more fit for the meetings of conspirators than for innocent tea-drinkings and dances.
The countess was sitting at her ease on a sofa close to the fire-place, with its Renaissance chimaeras of white marble. The handsomest editions of the works of Amp?re and Mommsen lay on the tables, but she held on her lap a ragged volume of a novel from a circulating library. She was a tall, fair woman with a high color and apricot-colored hair, a languid figure, slender extremities and insignificant features; she spoke French and German alike with a strong Viennese accent, dressed unfashionably, and moved awkwardly; still, no one who knew what was what, could fail to see that she was a lady and an aristocrat. At all court functions she was an imposing figure, she never stumbled over her train and wore the family diamonds with stately indifference.
"It is very nice of you to have thought of us," said the countess greeting him heartily; "it is dreadful weather too--come and warm yourself."
The count looked up from his writing: "How are you General?" he said, and then went on with his article, adding: "Such an old friend as you are will allow me to go on with my work; only a few lines--half a dozen words. These are grave times, when every man must hold his own in the ranks!"--and the forlorn hope of the feudal cause dipped his pen in the ink with a sigh.
The general begged him not to disturb himself, the countess said a few words about some musical soir?e, and presently her husband ended his page with an emphatic flourish, exclaiming: "That will give them something to think about!" and came to join them by the fire.
A carriage was heard to draw up in the street.
"That may be Truyn, he arrived yesterday," observed the countess, and Count Truyn was in fact announced.
Erich Truyn was at that time a man of rather more than thirty with hair prematurely gray and a glance of frosty indifference. People said he had been iced, for he always looked as though he had been frozen to the marrow in sublime superiority; his frigid exterior had won him a reputation for excessive pride, and totally belied the man. He was an uncommonly kind and noble-hearted soul, and what passed for pride was merely the shrinking of a sensitive nature which had now and again exposed itself to ridicule, perhaps by some outburst of high-flown idealism, and which now sought only to hide its sanctuary from the desecration of the multitude.
"Ah! Truyn, at last, and how are you?" cried the countess with sincere pleasure.
"Much as ever," replied Truyn.
"And where is your wife?" asked Ilsenbergh.
"I do not know."
"Is she still at Nice?"
"I do not know." And as he spoke his expression was colder and more set than before.
"Are you to be long in Rome?" said the countess, anxious to divert the conversation into a more pleasing channel.
"As long as my little companion likes and it suits her," answered Truyn. His 'little companion' always meant his only child, a girl of about twelve.
"You must bring Gabrielle to see me very soon," said the lady. "My Mimi and Lintschi are of the same age."
"I will bring her as soon as possible; unluckily she is so very shy she cannot bear strangers. But she has quite lost her heart to the general and to our cousin Sempaly."
"What, Nicki!" exclaimed the countess. "Do you mean that he has the patience to devote himself to children?"
"He has a peculiar talent for it. He dined with us to-day."
"He is an unaccountable creature!" sighed the countess. "He hardly ever comes near us."
At this moment a quick step was heard outside and Count Sempaly was announced.
The new-comer was a young man of eight or nine and twenty, not tall, but powerfully though slightly built; his remarkably handsome, well-cut features and clear brown complexion were beautified by a most engaging smile, and by fine blue eyes with dark lashes and shaded lids. Under cover of that smile he could say the most audacious things, and whether the glance of those eyes were a lightning flash or a sunbeam no one had ever been quite certain. He gallantly kissed the tips of the countess's fingers, nodded to the men with a sort of brusque heartiness, and then seated himself on a cushion at the lady's feet.
"Well, it is a mercy to be allowed to see you at last; you really do not come often enough, Nicki; and in society I hardly ever meet you," complained the countess in a tone of kindly reproof. "Why do you so seldom appear in the respectable world?"
"Because he is better amused in the other world!" said Ilsenbergh with a giggle in an undertone.
But a reproachful glance from his wife warned him to be sober.
"I simply have not the time for it," said Sempaly half laughing. "I have too much to do."
"Too much to do!" said Truyn with his quiet irony.... "In diplomacy?--What is the latest news?"
"The washing-basin question!" repeated the others puzzled.
"It is hardly credible!" observed Truyn; Ilsenbergh shrugged his shoulders and the countess innocently asked:
"What are the immortal principles of '89?"
"A sort of ideal convention between the aristocracy and the canaille," said Sempaly coolly. "Or if you prefer it, the first steps towards the abdication of privilege at the feet of the higher humanity," he added with a smile.
The countess was no wiser than before, Sempaly laughed maliciously as he fanned himself with a Japanese screen, and Ilsenbergh said: "Then you are a democrat, Sempaly?"
"From a bird's-eye point of view," added Truyn drily; he had not much faith in his cousin's liberalism.
"Horrible!" exclaimed the countess, and she shuddered, "we shall see the Commune again before long."
"'93," said Truyn, with his tone of dry irony.
"We really ought to draw a cordon round the Austrian throne to protect it against the pestilential flood of democracy," said Sempaly very gravely. "Ilsenbergh you must petition the upper house."
"Your jokes are very much out of place," said the countess, "the matter is serious."
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