Fraeulein von Schwertfeger had said "Good-night" and gone out of Lilly's
room about half an hour before midnight one November evening. The
colonel had driven off to the town, and close to Lilly's pillow sat the
hero, wet and frozen, for he had been waiting a long time in the
drizzling rain below before the signal--a double click of the shutter
bolt--had been given to summon him to her side.
Now, however, all was going smoothly. The house slept, the watchmen had
gone by, and the ladder, which he for greater safety dragged after him
on to the balcony, reposed peacefully in its corner. The blue-shaded
lamp bathed the warm, perfumed atmosphere of the room with a midsummer
brilliance. Showers of drops dripped softly from the bars of the
shutters, and the November wind whimpered in the chimney like a beggar.
Lilly lay comfortably stretched beneath the pale blue satin quilt. She
held his hand and gazed dreamily up into his face, which even in
moments of self-abandonment never quite lost its expression of
schoolboy sheepishness. She gazed at the freckled bridge of his nose,
the blinking pale-lashed eyes, and the sharply pointed unshaven chin,
half hidden in the turned-up collar of his green Norfolk jacket. He
dared not brush himself up for her any more, or it would have excited
remark from his colleagues.
They did not talk much. It was enough that he was there, he who
belonged to her in life and death, with whom she had been cast adrift
in this cold, strange world. She drew his head down to hers and stroked
the forehead, on which his easy-going career had left no lines. A few
raindrops still hung on his temples.
The clock ticking on the wall drew breath for a gentle chiming of the
hour, the hanging lamp swung a little, casting long wavering shadows on
the ceiling, like rocking cradles, or the flapping of ravens' wings.
Then there came from the courtyard the sound of the dull rumble of
wheels. Whether the sound was advancing or receding was not easy to
decide.
Both started and looked at the hands of the clock. Could that possibly
be the carriage already, which had gone to fetch the colonel from the
station? At twelve? Surely not. The horses were never put in before a
quarter to two, or they would have had to wait at the station for an
hour and a half. Probably it was the milkman, who had been delayed in
bringing back his cans. They grew calm again. A whole long precious
hour was before them, an hour of sweet enjoyment and oblivion of
everything except each other. To show his relief he made a popping
sound with his mouth. She stretched out her arms and lifted herself up
to his level with a contented smile. At that very moment there were
three short peremptory raps on the door opening into the corridor.
Fraeulein von Schwertfeger's voice called out, "Open the door, Lilly;
open the door immediately."
Walter bounded up. Before she could look round he had glided out of the
room. She felt as if bells were pealing in her ears, and a vague
longing to sink through the bed before the knock was repeated and drew
her to the door to turn the key. Overcome with shame, she had hardly
time to bury herself under the quilt again before Fraeulein von
Schwertfeger's eyes took a hasty survey of the room and alighted on
something grey and round in a corner. She darted at it, and only later
did Lilly recognise that it was Walter's cap. She drew back the bolt of
the door into the colonel's room, and then with apparent calm, as if
nothing had happened, seated herself on the edge of Lilly's bed.
"Whatever you do, don't cry," she whispered hurriedly, and then the
colonel's footsteps were heard in the corridor.
"Good gracious, is it so late? How time flies when two women get
gossiping!" was the speech Fraeulein von Schwertfeger greeted him with.
Her tone expressed the most unbounded surprise.
There he stood, and appeared not altogether pleased at not finding his
young wife alone.
"Where do you spring from all at once, colonel? You can't have ordered
a special train, and if you came through the air, I never knew before
you had mastered the art of flying; and I am sure your wife didn't--did
you, my pet? You see, she is rendered speechless with astonishment."
Thus she talked on, giving Lilly a few moments in which to collect
herself.
Forced to render account of his movements, he said that as he drove to
the station he had remembered that it was a neighbouring squire's
birthday, and, changing his plans on the spot, had turned round and
gone to help in the celebration of the happy event instead of going to
town.
"That is always the way," said Fraeulein von Schwertfeger; "the most
extraordinary events have the simplest explanations. Good-night,
dearest. I hope you will sleep well, and wake up without headache."
The colonel was on the alert. "Why, if she had a headache, didn't you
leave her to go to sleep long ago?" he asked.
Fraeulein von Schwertfeger was equal to the occasion, and without
hesitating a moment she replied:
"Lilly asked me to get her compresses again, but I thought it wiser
just to lay a cool hand on her forehead. Now I think we ought to leave
her alone, don't you, colonel? Goodnight!"
Thereupon she extinguished the blue lamp.
Lilly felt she must scream out: "Don't go! stay here, or he'll strangle
me!"
She was already out of the room, and so effectual had her diplomacy
been, that the colonel, with a few civilities about her headache,
retired to his own room without further questions. Otherwise a
breakdown of Lilly's nerves might have brought things to the inevitable
crisis there and then.
Paralysed with a dull fear she lay listening, first in the direction of
the colonel's room, then of that where the wind moaned, and where there
was an almost inaudible rustling of the leaves, caused by the ladder
which Walter was sliding over the railings of the balcony. As long as
there was light in the room he discreetly remained where he was. She
could hear afterwards how he removed the ladder and put it in the old
place. Not till now, when she knew they were safe, did she realise with
a shudder the gravity of their escape, and she felt an inclination to
call out and cry for mercy.
Anna's conduct seemed inexplicable. Why had she made herself a party to
their misdeeds, she whose reputation, existence, and employment were at
stake? Did a wretched sinner like herself deserve such a sacrifice?
Her heart went out to her in gratitude. She could no longer rest
quietly in bed. She must at once go and thank her.
Noiselessly she threw something on, and taking the precaution to bolt
the door of communication between the two rooms, she slipped out into
the corridor, having assured herself that the colonel was already
asleep.
The old oak staircase creaked terribly, but it often did this when no
one was creeping down it; its music resounded through the house at
intervals all the night through. From under Fraeulein von Schwertfeger's
door came the glimmer of light. Heavy footsteps paced up and down
restlessly. At last she ventured to knock, and was answered by "Who's
there?"
"It's Lilly.... Anna!"
"What do you want? Go back to bed!"
"No, no, Anna! I must speak to you; I must."
The door opened. "Come in, then," was the not very cordial invitation.
Lilly was going to throw herself on her neck, but Fraeulein von
Schwertfeger shook her off.
"I am in no mood for disturbing scenes," she said in her trumpet voice,
which she tried in vain to muffle. It had lost every vestige of its
sympathetic tone. "You needn't thank me; I haven't acted as I have done
for your sake."
Lilly felt very small, and very like a scolded child. Since the days
when she had accepted meekly Frau Asmussen's chastisements she had not
been so snubbed.
"At first you help me ..." she hesitated, "and then ..."
"As you are here, you shall answer a few questions," said Anna. "Fasten
up your dress--it is cold here--and sit down."
Lilly obediently did what she was told.
"To begin with, have I ever done anything to bring about a meeting
between you and that young man?"
"No; when could you?"
"That's just what I am asking."
"It was quite the contrary, for you wouldn't even consent at first to
my having the riding lessons."
"And when I did consent, have I allowed them to take place without
supervision?"
"Without supervision?" echoed Lilly. "No, I should think not, indeed.
You were nearly always there from start to finish."
"Was it I who proposed your riding about the open country with him
alone?"
"You? Why, of course not. The first time we went without leave, and
afterwards it was the colonel who wished it."
"Lastly, have I or have I not taken care to watch that everything was
right in your room?"
"I am not sure, but I think so. You used, anyhow, to come in the last
thing to say 'Good-night.'"
"Have you taken me for your enemy--your jailer?"
"Not exactly ... but I thought you didn't really care much about me."
Anna laughed a hard, cheerless laugh.
"Your utterances are very valuable," she said. "It proves to me that I
haven't blundered in carrying through my scheme, and that I have
nothing to reproach myself with."
"What scheme?" asked Lilly, quite at sea.
Fraeulein von Schwertfeger measured her with a glance of pitying scorn.
"I knew everything, child, from the very beginning. The first moment
you met him here I saw what was coming. I could reckon it all up as I
do the cost of dinner. I just let things go as they were bound to go. I
could do it without lowering myself in my own self-esteem. Besides,
what end would have been served by interfering? You were simply bent on
rushing headlong to your ruin."
"What have I ever done," faltered Lilly, "that you should hate me so? I
have never tried to upset your position in the house. I submitted to
you from the first moment I arrived. I put myself entirely in your
hands and now you treat me like this!"
"My dear, if I had hated you," replied Fraeulein von Schwertfeger, "you
would not be here now. You would probably at this very minute be
wandering on the high-road. A dozen times or more I might have crushed
you like dust in the palm of my hand, and I haven't done it. But I'll
be honest.... Yes, I did hate you--that is to say, before I knew you. I
pictured you a little pert, designing minx, who had drawn the colonel
on, out of mercenary motives, to resort to that extreme measure which
is the last resource of old libertines when they are thwarted. But when
you came and I saw what you were, a dear, ingenuous child, without
suspicion of evil, full of good intentions towards him and myself, I
had to pocket my hate. Then you became to me nothing more than a
harmless little pet dog that one uses so long as it is any pleasure to
one and then kicks aside. I have done with you, my dear child, long
ago. You're not in it. I and the colonel alone are playing the game. I
have to reckon with him now, and then my work is over."
Lilly's soul was full of a dull sickening wonder. She felt as if doors
were being thrown open and blinds drawn up, and she was looking
straight into human hearts as into a fiery abyss.
"I thought that you and he were so much to each other," she said. "I
thought----" Then suddenly it occurred to her that her first idea had
been the right one. This imperious and hardened old maid, of whose
beauty there were still traces, had ten or fifteen years ago been
admired by her employer, after a time neglected, and now wished to be
revenged.
Fraeulein von Schwertfeger guessed her thoughts and speedily dispelled
the delusion.
"If that had been it," she said, "I should have known how to keep
silent, and have regarded the castle as my sanctuary had I been allowed
to remain in it. No, no, my child; things are not always so simple in
this world, and there are worse hells than you dream of."
Then Lilly heard a story which filled her with horror and pity, the
story of which she was the last chapter.
The colonel, always a man of tyrannical will, with a mad infatuation
for young girls, had, under the pretext that when he was at home on
leave he liked to have youth and gaiety about him, advertised for
pupils to learn housekeeping. He selected the successful applicants
himself, having known beforehand whom they were to be. For a long time
Fraeulein von Schwertfeger suspected nothing, till the servants began to
talk. They came to her with stories of secret orgies at the top of the
house, of wild races up and down stairs after frightened girls clothed
in silver spangles--transparent garments of silver being apparently an
old weakness of the colonel's. Her eyes were fully opened to these
disgraceful goings-on when one of the girls attempted suicide, and she
left the house. But she was poor and used to ruling. She could not keep
subordinate posts, and sank into poverty and wretchedness. The colonel
did not lose sight of her, and when he thought she had suffered
sufficient punishment for her independent line of action, he asked her
to return once more to the castle as his lady-housekeeper. He promised
her that there would be nothing more to complain of, so she crept back
to his house like a starved dog. He soon broke his word, however; the
orgies were resumed, but she hadn't any longer the courage to protest.
She learnt to be blind and deaf when amorous glances were exchanged at
table, and late at night shrill cries and laughter reached her bedroom.
She even went so far as to keep the scandal from the curious servants,
and thus to screen the house's reputation, while she offered his girl
friends a motherly interest and affection.
"I shouldn't be surprised," she added, "if he hadn't made you the same
proposals, and suggested that I should look after you."
And it came back to Lilly's remembrance how in that hour of fate, when
she had become engaged to him, he had walked round her, eager but
irresolute, and spoken of a worthy and distinguished lady under whose
fostering care she was to develop on his estate into a woman of the
world.
Fraeulein von Schwertfeger had not done. She went on to say that the
bitter consciousness of her shameful position ate into her soul like a
canker, and finally took such possession of her that her one thought
was to be revenged. His marriage was to be the instrument. She would
continue to be blind and deaf as he had once demanded she should be.
That was all. Matters should take their natural course. Such had been
the state of affairs till to-day. To-day the catastrophe must have been
unavoidable, and would have fallen on the colonel if at the last
decisive moment her strength of character had not failed her. She found
that the young, good-hearted, guilelessly guilty wife had won her
affection too deeply to be sacrificed to her plans of vengeance.
"But I thought you said just now," Lilly ventured to interpose, "that
you had not done it for my sake."
Fraeulein von Schwertfeger fixed her with a stony and awful stare.
"My child," she answered, "if you were not quite such a stupid young
thing, whom sin alone can mature, you might understand the conflict
that is perpetually going on in anyone like myself. For the present, be
satisfied that you are out of danger."
In a burst of gratitude Lilly flew at Fraeulein von Schwertfeger and
kissed her face and hands. Anna no longer repulsed her; she caressed
her hair and talked to her in a tone of friendly patronage. Then Lilly,
crouching at her feet, confessed how the affair with Walter had arisen,
how their friendship had originated, and how he in reality had been the
author of her happiness.
"Happiness!" echoed Fraeulein von Schwertfeger, and she made a sound
through her tight lips like a whistle of disdain.
Lilly stopped short, looked at her inquiringly, and then understood.
The question burned in her brain, "Am I any better, really, than if he
had dragged me here as his mistress?"
It was eleven months since that night of courtship. What had they made
of her? She threw her arms round Fraeulein von Schwertfeger's neck and
cried, cried, cried. It did her such a lot of good to have a sisterly,
or rather a motherly, bosom on which to pillow her head. It reminded
her of the days which had ended with the flourish of a knife.
Of course, now it was all over; that was an understood thing. They must
not meet again--not once. Fraeulein von Schwertfeger demanded it, and
Lilly without opposition agreed.
"If only it weren't for my mission!" she sighed.
"What mission?" asked Anna.
Then Lilly told her that too--of her sacred responsibility with regard
to his life, of the influence her love had upon him, awaking him to
higher and purer things, and how she would be answerable with the last
drop of blood in her veins for his ascent to a noble plane of
endeavour, where his work, inspired by her, would bear fruit and not be
wasted.
It was Fraeulein von Schwertfeger's turn to be astounded, and she
listened to her with distended, incredulous eyes, paced the room
excitedly, and murmured to herself, "It's unbelievable! unbelievable!"
And when Lilly asked her what was unbelievable, she kissed her on the
forehead and said, "You poor, poor thing!"
"Why poor?" asked Lilly.
"Because you are bound to suffer in this life."
Hereupon it was settled that Anna would speak to him once more herself,
and, as the price of her silence, require from him the breaking off of
every sort of relation between them. Not even the rides would be
permitted. Lilly pleaded for the writing of one single letter of
farewell. That, she thought, she owed him in order that he should not
be cast into despair about her and his future.
Then they separated. Lilly ran upstairs; elated, redeemed, borne on the
wings of new hopes, she cast all precautions to the winds, but, thank
God, the colonel was still snoring.
The clocks struck four, and the clodhopping step of the stable-boy was
already heard in the yard. Before she flung herself into bed she
allowed herself one farewell look across at the bailiff's lodge and
rejoiced that renunciation was so easy.