Mademoiselle von Raasloff's mother.
One evening at the Palazzo Odescalchi, when everybody had been
telling stories, and nothing very interesting, Mademoiselle von
Raasloff suddenly astonished us by saying, 'Now I will tell you
something.' Then she said -
'There was a young lady in Denmark, whose family, from
circumstances, had lived very much before the Danish world, and
with whom, in so small a society as that of Copenhagen, almost
everyone was acquainted. Consequently it is a subject of
interest, almost of universal interest, at Copenhagen, when it
became known that this young lady, with the full approval of her
parents and joyful consent of everyone concerned, had become
engaged to a young Danish officer of good family and position.
'Now in Danish society a betrothal is considered to be almost
the same thing as a marriage: new relationships date from that
time, and if either the affianced bride or bridegroom die, the
family of the other side mourn as for a son or brother, as if the
marriage had actually taken place.
'While this young lady of whom I've spoken was only engaged,
her betrothed husband was summoned to join his regiment in a war
which was going on; and very soon to the house of his betrothed
came the terrible news that he was dead, that he was killed in
battle. And the way in which the news came was this. A soldier of
his regiment was wounded and was taken prisoner; and as he was
lying in his cot in the hospital, he said to his companion who
was in the next bed, "I saw the young Colonel - I saw the
young Colonel on his white horse, and he rode into the ranks of
the enemy and he never came back again." And the man who
said that died, but the man to whom he said it recovered, and, in
process of time, he was ransomed, and came back to Copenhagen and
told his story with additions. "My comrade, who is dead,
said that he saw the young Colonel on his white horse, and that
he saw him ride into the ranks of the enemy and the soldiers of
the enemy dragged him from his horse and killed him, so that he
never came back again." This is the form in which the story
reached the family of the affianced wife of the young Colonel,
and they mourned him most truly; for they loved him much, and
they put on all the outward signs of deepest grief. There was
only one person who would not put on the outward sign of
mourning, and that was his affianced bride herself. She said, and
persisted in saying, that she could not believe that, with two
persons having been as entirely united as she and her betrothed
had been, one could pass entirely out of life without the other
knowing it. That her lover was sick, in prison, in trouble, she
could believe, but that he was dead - never, without her having
an inner conviction of it; and she would not put on the outward
signs of mourning, which to her sense implied an impression of
ill omen. Her parents are urged her greatly, not only because
their own reality of grief was very great, but because, according
to the feeling of things in Copenhagen, it cast a very great slur
upon their daughter that she should appear without the usual
signs of grief. They urged her ceaselessly, and the tension of
mind in which she lived, and the perpetual struggle with her own
family, added to her own deep grief, had a very serious effect
upon her.
'It was while things were in this state that one day she
dreamt - she dreamt that she received a letter from her
betrothed, and in her dream she felt that it was of the most
vital importance that she should see the date of that letter; and
she struggled and laboured to see it, and she laboured on with
the utmost intensity of effort, but she could not decipher it;
and it seemed to her the most wearisome night she had ever spent,
so incessant was her effort, but she could not read it: still she
would not give it up, and at last, just as the dawn was breaking,
she saw the date of the letter, and it was May 10th. The effort
was so great that she woke; but the date remained with her still
- it was May 10th.
'Now she knew that if such a letter had been really written on
the 10th of May, by the 1st of June she must receive that letter.
'The next morning, when her father came into see her before
she was up, as he had always done since their great sorrow, he
was surprised to find her not only calm and serene, but almost
radiant. She said, "You have often blamed me for not wearing
the outward signs of mourning for my betrothed: grant me now only
till the 1st of June, and then, if I receive no letter from him,
I will promise to resign myself to believe the worst, and I will
do as you desire." Three weeks of terrible tension ensued,
and the 1st of June arrived. She said then that she felt as if
her whole future life hung upon the postman's knock. It came -
and there was the letter! Her lover had been taken prisoner,
communication with him had been cut off - in fact, till then it
was impossible she should hear. Soon afterwards he was exchanged,
came home, and they were married.
'Now,' said Mademoiselle von Raasloff, as she finished her
narrative, 'that is no story which I have heard. The young lady
was my dear mother; she is here to testify to it: the young
officer was my dear father, General von Raasloff he is here to
confirm it.' And they were both present.