It was begun in laughter--and with laughter it continued. The next
morning when Lilly awoke the objects round her--the lamp, the
washstand, the sentimental pictures on the wall--seemed to have taken
on a different aspect, and the sun shone in at the windows with
redoubled brilliance.
In her night clothes she stood before the glass and smiled again at the
reflection she saw there; it was the face of a gamin, with eyes roguish
and sparkling, and a tipped-up saucy nose.
At breakfast she scintillated with small witticisms, chased the
stiff-kneed colonel round the table, and cherished sentiments of
glowing gratitude towards Fraeulein von Schwertfeger. She on her side
smiled eloquently to herself, and when the colonel had retired, chucked
Lilly under the chin, and said, "What a child you are!"
She made no allusion to the confession that had escaped Lilly the night
before. It almost seemed that it had not been heard.
Lilly ran up to her balcony, pushed apart the creepers, and gave him a
nod to come in as he walked up and down uncertainly between the castle
and the bailiff's office. He understood her signal, bowed low, and
disappeared in the direction of the terrace steps.
What passed between him and Fraeulein von Schwertfeger remained a
secret. There was no finding out whether she interrogated him on his
previous relations with the young baroness. But that the result of the
interview as a whole was successful there could be no question. Instead
of the colonel giving him his _conge_, the colonel himself brought him
in to supper that evening. He wore his best coat, white waistcoat, his
most respectful expression, and looked as if he was going to sink into
his collar.
"A little bird tells me," said the colonel to Lilly, "that Herr von
Prell is rather dull and lonely over there sometimes. So, if you have
no objection, we will ask him in oftener than we have done."
She hadn't the very least objection, only the thought that Kaete might
appear any moment in the doorway prevented her from speaking.
Instead of Kaete another maid handed old Ferdinand the plates and
dishes. Lilly's eyes turned inquiringly to Fraeulein von Schwertfeger,
who said, in an undertone so that the men should not hear, "The poor
girl, owing to her illness, has gone home, and probably will not come
back."
Lilly squeezed her hand under the table from sheer relief. She had a
dim notion that Kaete had been sent away to spare her unpleasantness.
The other two were deep in cavalry talk, much interlarded by technical
terms and dry names.
Herr von Prell leaned towards his old superior officer, blinking his
lids with reverential and eager attention. The colonel laid down the
law like a wrathful deity, spoke in gruff, fierce tones, and shot about
him dagger-like glances, as if there were enemies all round to mow
down, which of course was mere professional vainglory.
Lilly listened, and would have liked to join in. But apparently both
men had forgotten her existence, and she became depressed and jealous
without being exactly sure which of them she was most angry with.
When Prell rose to take his leave, the colonel laid his hand on his
shoulder, and asked:
"Why haven't we done this before, my boy?" And the look he gave Lilly
seemed to add, "There has really been no necessity for so much
caution." After this, Prell's invitations to supper became more
frequent as the September days grew chillier, and the colonel's gout
made his visits to the town rarer. Groaning and swearing he mounted his
horse with difficulty, but he would not listen to Lilly's entreaties to
him to give up the early morning ride.
"I might ride round the place instead of you," she said, "if you
weren't so ridiculously nervous about my having an accident."
The colonel and Anna exchanged glances.
"It certainly is a disgrace," he remarked, "that the girl hasn't learnt
yet to sit on a horse. She ought to be taught. What do you say, Anna?
Can we trust that scamp Prell to give her riding lessons?"
Lilly's face beamed with delight.
Fraeulein von Schwertfeger's lids were lowered meditatively. After a few
moments' silence she raised them, and said very slowly and
emphatically:
"If the harum-scarum young man brought our pet home one day with a
broken arm or leg, what should we do? I think the proposal, at any
rate, needs to be further considered."
Lilly forbore from expressing her longing, and did not contradict Anna,
who, however, must have divined her thoughts, for when they were alone
together she suddenly said, taking Lilly's face between her hands:
"Dismiss the idea from your mind, darling. Take my word for it, it will
be best."
It was about this time that Lilly, who loved to explore the spacious
and only partly inhabited old castle, made a remarkable discovery that
excited her curiosity not a little. In one of the guest chambers on the
third floor, which was hardly ever used, she was rummaging one day in
the drawers of a bureau when she came across a transparent garment of
silver net, fringed with spangles and fastened at the shoulder by
curious barbaric clasps. It resembled the one in which, in the Dresden
days, she had danced at bedtime, and which now lay at the bottom of her
wardrobe enjoying undisturbed repose. She had never shown it to
Fraeulein von Schwertfeger, being somewhat ashamed of it. But this
duplicate she folded up and took downstairs to her friend, for she was
anxious to learn its history.
Fraeulein von Schwertfeger looked up from her account-books abstractedly
till she saw the glitter of spangles in the sun, and then a shudder
convulsed her whole frame, her eyes became distended, and she seemed as
paralysed with horror as if she had seen a ghost.
"What's the matter? What's the matter?" laughed Lilly.
"I thought I had thrown away all the rubbish," she said, and gave
herself a little shake.
She snatched the flimsy thing out of Lilly's hands, rolled it in a
sheet of paper, and took it to the kitchen. Lilly, who followed, saw a
thin cloud of smoke rise from the hearth, carrying with it a whirl of
charred tinsel rags. Old Grete stood by, glancing first at Anna and
then at Lilly in perturbed surprise.
She appeared to know of what transactions the discovery was evidence,
but when asked by Lilly to explain she held her tongue.
"I was not much here, but away in the town," she excused herself, "when
the colonel was there with the regiment, you know. Ask the Fraeulein;
she will tell you."
The Fraeulein would not tell. With grimly compressed lips and vacant
gaze she avoided the subject, and for three days or more scarcely
answered when Lilly spoke to her.
Then suddenly, as they sat at supper, without any apparent cause, her
whole manner changed. She became facetious and talkative, and
sympathetic towards her employer, suggesting remedies for his gout and
wringing from him a promise to give up the injurious morning ride.
"I have been thinking over Lilly's riding lessons," she went on. "I
really don't think there can be any danger after all in entrusting her
to the boy, if one of us is present to see that all is right--anyhow at
the start."
Lilly gave a sigh of joy, but neither by her eyes nor facial expression
did she betray the smallest sign of pleasure, so severely in the
meantime had she learned to school herself.
The next morning the lesson began.
Walter von Prell appeared in riding get-up. His body was bent forward
as much as to say, "I await orders," and his whole bearing bespoke
submissive respect as he stood first on one foot, then on the other.
A quiet grey mare, with narrow flanks and somewhat overstrained
forelegs, but a smart, well-groomed little mount, had been chosen for
the first ride. Her instructor explained to her the principle on which
bridle and bit were constructed, showed her how the girths were
buckled, how the snaffle and curb-reins were to be held, and how to
prevent the curb throttling the horse.
Then came learning to mount. When Lilly planted her foot in his joined
hands she felt a warm thrill creep up her spine to the back of her
neck, as if this contact were a sign of the secret understanding
between them.
He counted "One, two, three," and, presto! there she was in the saddle.
The colonel clapped and applauded, and Walter blushed to the roots of
his fair hair with delight.
Henceforth he had the game in his hands.
"Who would have thought that jackanapes had so much of the pedagogue in
him?" the colonel remarked to Fraeulein von Schwertfeger, who nodded
silently and drew a deep breath as if something weighed on her mind.
When Lilly dismounted she had learnt how to draw in the reins and
slacken them, and to turn to right and left. She had even got as far as
a trot round the yard. The colonel said good-humouredly she promised to
be the most dashing horsewoman in the army.
One lesson followed another. Either the colonel or Anna was always
present, so there was little opportunity for a confidential
conversation. Walter did not drop his stiff and obsequious manner,
though Lilly longed for a flash of the old devilry that she alone
understood.
Then came a day when it happened that both sentinels were absent from
duty. The colonel was busy giving directions for the making of a
covered riding-way where his gouty limbs would not be exposed to
chills, and Fraeulein von Schwertfeger was nowhere to be found.
Lilly's heart beat fast as she and her merry friend met, and she gave
him her hand with a smile of suppressed triumph. He responded with a
sly wink in the direction of the terrace, where her duenna was wont to
stand.
"She's nowhere to be seen," whispered Lilly.
"What are we to do, then," he said, wringing his hands in mock
lamentation, "without the protecting eye of the illustrious Fraeulein?
How are we to mount?"
The September sky was very blue; a crisp breeze, heavy with the perfume
of damp freshly turned sods, blew across the courtyard. He pointed with
his whip to the open gate. She laughed and nodded assent. The next
moment she cantered beside him along the grassy road, whither no Argus
eye could follow them, inwardly rejoicing and exultantly scenting all
sorts of mad pranks. But he seemed unwilling to make the most of their
unexpected freedom. He kept his eyes fixed in front of him; every now
and then he caught at her rein, altered her stirrups or corrected her
seat in the saddle. He was the riding-master and nothing more.
"What's Tommy doing?" she asked, finding things dull.
"Tommy sends his love," he answered with his gaze still fastened on the
road, "and wishes to say that to-day we had better attend to the
horses, for if anything happens we shall not be allowed out again."
"My love to Tommy," she retorted, "and tell him he's a little goose."
"I'll not forget," he said, and bowed over the saddle.
They came to a coppice of larch-trees where the ground was slightly
boggy and required careful crossing. But she saw nothing but the silver
sheen of the trunks, and the golden mist made by the delicate leaves
dancing in the breeze and nearly brushing her cheek.
"Oh, look, how lovely!" she said with a sigh of satisfaction.
Then a demon within her prompted her to an act of madness. She touched
the mare with her whip and started off on a wild gallop, regardless of
all the rules and regulations laid down by her riding-master.
In a few seconds he came up with her, seized her bridle, and with a
dexterous jerk brought both horses to a standstill.
Their eyes flashed into each other. She felt as if she must throw
herself on to his saddle to be nearer him at any cost.
"What do you mean by that, dear little comrade?" he roared.
"And what do you mean by calling me 'dear little comrade'?" she
retorted.
Then they turned their horses and walked them slowly and in silence
homewards.