Memories: A Story of German LoveMüller, F. Max (Friedrich Max)
Religion
Memories: A Story of German Love
Müller, F. Max (Friedrich Max)
Müller, F. Max (Friedrich Max), 1823-1900; Religion historians -- Germany -- Biography
My heart beat quickly as I ascended the high stairs with my father, and
just as he was telling me I must call the Princess "Highness," and the
Prince "Serene Highness," the folding-door opened and I saw before me a
tall figure with brilliantly piercing eyes. She seemed to advance and
stretch out her hand to me. There was an expression on her countenance
which I had long known, and a heavenly smile played about her cheeks.
I could restrain myself no longer, and while my father stood at the
door bowing very low--I knew not why--my heart sprang into my throat.
I ran to the beautiful lady, threw my arms round her neck and kissed
her as I would my mother. The beautiful, majestic lady willingly
submitted, stroked my hair and smiled; but my father took my hand, led
me away, and said I was very rude, and that he should never take me
there again. I grew utterly bewildered. The blood mounted to my
cheeks, for I felt that my father had been unjust to me. I looked at
the Princess as if she ought to shield me, but upon her face was only
an expression of mild earnestness. Then I looked round upon the ladies
and gentlemen assembled in the room, believing that they would come to
my defense. But as I looked, I saw that they were laughing. Then the
tears sprang into my eyes, and out of the door, down the stairs, and
past the lindens in the castle yard, I rushed home, where I threw
myself into my mother's arms and sobbed and wept.
"What has happened to you?" said she.
"Oh! mother!" I cried; "I was at the Princess', and she was such a good
and beautiful woman, just like you, dear mother, that I had to throw my
arms round her neck and kiss her."
"Ah!" said my mother; "you should not have done that, for they are
strangers and high dignitaries."
"And what then are strangers?" said I.
"May I not love all people who look upon me with affectionate and
friendly eyes?"
"You can love them, my son," replied my mother, "but you should not
show it."
"Is it then something wrong for me to love people?" said I. "Why
cannot I show it?"
"Well, perhaps you are right," said she, "but you must do as your
father says, and when you are older you will understand why you cannot
embrace every woman who regards you with affectionate and friendly
eyes."
That was a sad day. Father came home, agreed I had been very uncivil.
At night my mother put me to bed, and I prayed, but I could not sleep,
and kept wondering what these strange people were, whom one must not
love.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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