Raoul glanced through it and laid it down. "Sad news, but not
unexpected. The last letters prepared us for the end. You said
yesterday that if it came you should not be able to leave the capital,
so I shall go alone with my mother."
"Yes, _if you can_."
"There will be no difficulty about my leave. The Minister offered to
give it to me when he heard of the state of affairs at Steinrueck. I can
go at any moment to----"
"Console your betrothed," the general completed the sentence.
"Of course. I have the first right to do so."
"Have you still that right?"
The young Count started at the tone in which the words were spoken, but
his grandfather left him no time for surmise, but asked, sharply,--
"What are your relations with Heloise von Nerac?"
The question was so unexpected that for a moment Raoul was confused,
but in the next he replied, "Why, she is the sister of my friend
Clermont."
"I know it. But is she not something more? No subterfuges! I require
the plain, unvarnished truth. Is your intimacy with her such as your
betrothed would approve? Yes or no."
Raoul was silent. He was no liar, nor could he feign while those eyes
were fixed upon him as if to search his very soul and wring the truth
from him however he might try to conceal it.
"It is true, then," said Steinrueck, hoarsely. "I could not and would
not believe it."
"Grandfather----"
"Hush! I need no further reply; your silence has spoken. Can it be? A
girl like Hertha sacrificed, and to whom? Have you lost both sight and
sense? The thing is as incomprehensible as it is disgraceful."
Raoul stood biting his lip and chafing at reproaches uttered in such a
tone. It irritated him beyond endurance, and his air when he spoke was
defiant rather than ashamed. "You load me with reproaches, grandfather,
but Hertha, with her insulting coldness, her frigid reserve, is most to
blame for our estrangement. She never loved me; she is incapable of
loving."
"You are greatly mistaken there," the general said, bitterly. "You, to
be sure, failed to win her love, but another knew how to succeed. To
him she is neither proud nor cold; to him she willingly sacrifices her
rank, and he dares to offer her a name not without stain,--Michael
Rodenberg!"
The young Count at first stood gazing at his grandfather as if
thunderstruck, and then his whole nature seemed to rise in revolt. He
had, in spite of all, once loved his cold, beautiful betrothed; her
invincible reserve had driven him from her. The thought that she could
belong to another, and that other the man whom he hated, robbed him of
all self-possession, and he burst forth furiously, "Rodenberg? He dare
to woo a Countess Steinrueck, to beguile her secretly while she is
betrothed to me! Scoundrel----"
"Hush!" the general said, in a tone of command. "You have been the
scoundrel, not Michael. He has just been here to recall in Hertha's
name her promise to you, and to disclose everything to me. You kept
silence, while you betrayed your betrothed."
"How could I speak? You would have annihilated me with your anger if I
had dared to tell you of my love for Heloise."
Steinrueck's lip quivered contemptuously.
"It was from fear of me, then? Do you suppose that I care for an
obedience founded upon falsehood and treachery? Ah! I fear that even
without your breach of faith Hertha would have been lost to you as soon
as Michael entered the lists against you."
"Grandfather, this is too much!" Raoul's voice was wellnigh choked with
anger. "Would you rank above me, your grandson, the last scion of your
house, a man disgraced by his father's shame?"
"A man who will, nevertheless, mount to a height you can never hope to
attain. He marches on to his goal although a world in arms oppose him,
while you, with all the splendour of your name and of your descent,
with all your rich endowments, will never be aught save one of
thousands lost in the crowd. You both are of my race, but only one of
you has inherited my blood. You are your mother's image; there is in
you nothing of your father save his weakness of character. Michael is
my own, and if his name were tenfold Rodenberg, I acknowledge him a
Steinrueck."
It had come at last, the recognition which the old Count's pride had so
long refused to his grandson, which he had never admitted to his face.
It broke forth now, almost against his will.
At his grandfather's last words Raoul grew pale; he said nothing, but
if anything could increase his hatred of Michael, it was this
declaration. Steinrueck paced the room to and fro several times, as if
to regain his composure, and then paused before the young Count.
"Your betrothal is annulled. After what you have just admitted to me I
cannot dissuade Hertha from recalling the troth she plighted to you.
Your mother will tell you of all that you have lost in a worldly point
of view. In this matter we are exceptionally of one mind, and she seems
to have had a suspicion of the danger that threatened you, for she
lately assured me that in compliance with her urgent entreaty you had
given up all intercourse with the Clermonts. You have deceived her as
you have deceived me, and for the sake of a woman----"
"Whom I love!" exclaimed Raoul, goaded to reply; "whom I love to
distraction. Not one word against Heloise, grandfather. I will not
suffer it, although I know that you hate both her and her brother
because they belong to my mother's native land."
Steinrueck shrugged his shoulders. "Your uncle Montigny belongs to the
same land, and you know that my respect and esteem for him are great.
But there is something suspicious about this brother and sister, in
spite of their lofty descent which seems to be genuine. They mingle
aimlessly and idly in society here, and will probably vanish from it
some day as suddenly as they appeared in it. Then your foolish romance
will come to an end, but it will have cost you a brilliant future."
"Who says it will come to an end? If Hertha can venture to brave your
anger, and outrage every tradition of our family, I surely have a right
to marry a woman whose name confers more honour upon our house than a
Rodenberg can boast."
"You intend to marry Frau von Nerac!" said the general, coldly. "Is
your household to be supported by your salary in the Foreign Office?
There is no need of explaining my position in the affair. I once
allowed that foreign element to mingle among us; it never shall do so
again,--it has wrought mischief enough."
"Grandfather, you are speaking of my mother!" cried Raoul, angrily.
"Yes, of your mother, to whom I owe your estrangement from me and from
your fatherland,--your indifference to, nay, dislike for what should be
most sacred to you. What is there that I have not done to withdraw you
from this baneful influence? But kindness and severity have alike
proved in vain. The poorest peasant is more devoted to the soil upon
which he was born than are you to your country, and linked to a Heloise
von Nerac your fate would be sealed. When fear of me no longer
restrained you, when death had closed my eyes, it might well be that
the last of the Steinruecks turned his back contemptuously upon his
fatherland to become body and soul a Frenchman!"
There was in the midst of the old man's indignation such bitter pain in
the tone in which these last words were uttered that the angry retort
died upon Raoul's lips. His answer was cut short by the opening of the
door and by his mother's appearance.
She had no suspicion of what had occurred. The general had gone to her
for a few moments after his interview with Michael to tell her of the
death of the Countess; his sense of justice forbade his accusing Raoul
to her before the young man had been heard in his own defence.
"Oh, you are here, Raoul," she said. "They told me your grandfather had
sent for you, and I knew it was to tell you of the despatch from
Steinrueck. Are we to start together to-day, or will you follow me
tomorrow? I had better take the express train to-night, to be with
Hertha as soon as possible."
The general turned with apparent composure to his daughter-in-law:
"Raoul is not going to Steinrueck. Circumstances oblige him to remain
here."
The Countess looked surprised, but her surmises were wide of the truth.
"Can they refuse him a leave upon such an occasion?" she asked. "And
you tell me that you cannot go, either, papa? Then what Leon hinted to
me yesterday is true. War is unavoidable?"
"I can give you no assurance on that head," replied Steinrueck, ignoring
all but her last words. "Every one knows how grave is the situation,
and Raoul, like the rest of us, must be ready to stand by the flag."
"Stand by the flag?" repeated the Countess. "He is not a soldier. His
delicate health always excluded him from a military career. He was even
released from the usual year of service on account of the weakness of
his chest."
"That was, it is true, the verdict of the physicians formerly,--a
verdict which I never could understand, for Raoul always seemed healthy
to me. That he is so at present you will surely not deny. A man who
makes it his boast that no hunting-expedition ever fatigues him, who
can ride all night and be ready for any madcap exploit in the morning,
must be able to serve in time of war."
"And you could be so cruel as to require----"
"What?" the general asked, hastily. "Ah, you dread his serving as a
common soldier. Unfortunately, that must be; but it will not be for
long, and I shall take care that he is placed near me. Every one knows
that he is my grandson, and he has but to fulfil his duty as a
soldier."
"But to fight against my people!" Hortense exclaimed, passionately. "If
it came to that it would kill me."
"We live through much, Hortense, that is harder to bear. I know how
many tears it would cost you, and I could not ask you to stay here in
the capital if war with France were really declared. You cannot
sympathize with us. But Raoul is the son of a German, and must do his
duty as such. He was formerly unfit for service, now he is strong and
well enough to act a soldier's part."
The words sounded calm, but iron in firmness. Hortense, however, was
incapable of understanding her father-in-law,--she always would beat
upon this rock although she knew she could not stir it. "You can free
him from any necessity for such a part," she said, impetuously. "One
word from you to the examining physician, a simple statement from
General Steinrueck that he does not consider the weakness of his
grandson's lungs yet overcome, and no one will venture----"
"To accuse him of falsehood? Assuredly not; but some one ventures, I
find, to consider him capable of falsehood. I make allowance for you on
account of your present agitation, Hortense, or----" His look completed
the sentence.
Raoul had hitherto taken no part in a conversation in which his
passionate interest was plain; now he advanced. "Grandfather, you know
that I am no coward. You have often reproached me with rashness and
foolhardiness, restraining me where I would have ventured, but you must
see that I cannot take part in this conflict; my whole nature revolts
at the idea of lifting my hand against my mother's country and her
people."
"I cannot spare you this," Steinrueck declared, unmoved. "In such a case
self-control must be exercised and duty must be done. But why waste
words? It is a necessity to which you must both submit. Enough has been
said."
"But I neither can nor will submit!" exclaimed the young Count in great
agitation. "I have never served in the army, and shall not be called
upon to do so now, unless you insist upon it. You mean to force me into
this war with my other fatherland. I see but too clearly----"
He paused suddenly, the general's look was so stern and forbidding.
"I should suppose that you could have but _one_ fatherland. Are you to
learn this now for the first time? You _must_ take part in this war;
you must fight it out from first to last, that you may finally come to
the consciousness of who you are. In the storm of battle, in the
uprising of your entire nation, you may perhaps learn to know where you
belong; you may find again your lost love of country. It is my sole, my
last hope. As soon as war is declared you will enlist,--enlist
immediately."
The tone was the same to which Raoul had always submitted, but now he
burst forth in open rebellion: "Grandfather, do not goad me too far.
You have always reproached me with having my mother's blood in my
veins, and you are right. All that I knew of happiness and freedom in
the sunny days of my youth belonged to France, and there alone does
life seem to me really worth the living. Here, in cold, gray Germany, I
have never felt at home. Every joy is doled out to me grudgingly here;
the phantom of duty is always held up to me. Do not inexorably force me
to choose. The result might be other than what you desire. I do not
love your Germany; I never loved it; and, come what may, I will not
fight against my France!"
"My Raoul,--I knew it!" cried Hortense, exultantly, extending her arms
to him.
Steinrueck stood still, gazing at the pair. He had not looked for this.
Raoul's fear of him had hitherto kept him within bounds; he had not
dared to give utterance to his sentiments. These bounds were broken,
and even the old Count's iron nature was shaken. His voice sounded
strangely when he spoke again,--"Raoul, come here!"
The young man did not stir; he stayed beside his mother, who had thrown
one arm around him as if to detain him. Thus they stood, hostile and
defiant; but the general was not the man to endure such revolt beneath
his roof.
"Did you not hear my command? I must repeat it, then: Come here to me!"
His tone and look once more exercised their old power. Raoul obeyed
mechanically, as if yielding to an irresistible force.
"You will not fight?" said Steinrueck, seizing the young man's hand in a
vice-like grasp. "That remains to be seen. I shall volunteer in your
name, and once enlisted, you will be taught the meaning of discipline.
You are aware of what awaits the soldier who disobeys, or--deserts.
Hush! not a word!" he continued, as the young man started as if to
protest against words so full of disgrace. "In spite of your threat, I
bid you choose. And that you may not lavish too much admiration upon
your son's courage, Hortense, I tell you what could not long be kept
from you; Raoul's betrothal to Hertha is annulled, and by his own
fault. For love of Frau von Nerac he has been false to the duty he owed
to his betrothed."
"Raoul!" exclaimed the Countess, in utter dismay. The general slowly
released his grandson's hand from his clasp and turned away.
"You must settle all that with him. I shall know how to avert the worse
evil. I will see to it that the last of the Steinruecks is saved from
the disgrace of betraying his fatherland as he has betrayed his
betrothed."
With these words he left the room.
* * * * *
The discord in the Steinrueck family weighed heavily upon its members.
Hortense left for Steinrueck, since the general insisted that one member
at least of his household should follow his relative to the grave. He
could not leave town himself, and political events might well account
for Raoul's absence. But had Hortense also been absent the world would
have suspected the family dissension, and she complied all the more
readily with her father-in-law's desire on this occasion, since she
still had some confidence in her personal influence with Hertha. In the
stormy scene between Raoul and herself that preceded her departure,
Michael's name had not been mentioned; she knew nothing of his
relations with Hertha, or of his connection with the Steinruecks. In her
mind Heloise von Nerac was the sole cause of the breach between the
young people, and she still hoped that she should succeed in appeasing
the offended girl, and in recovering for her son all that he had so
wantonly sacrificed with Hertha's hand.
The general and his grandson had met but for a few moments in the
twenty-four hours following their decisive interview, and these moments
had been painful enough. At present the young man had gone to his
friend Clermont's, determined to prove to his mother and grandfather
that he was no longer a boy to be disposed of according to their
pleasure. He found Heloise alone, and informed her of all that had
taken place on the previous day, the passionate agitation of his manner
showing how profoundly he had been moved.
"The die is cast," he concluded. "My betrothal with Hertha is at an
end. I am as free as you are, and there is no longer any reason for
concealment. Tell me at last, Heloise, that you consent to be mine, to
bear my name. You have never yet really done so."
Heloise had listened in silence, and with a slight frown. It seemed
almost as if this turn of affairs were an unwelcome one to her.
"Stay! not so fast, Raoul!" she said, in reply to his ardent words.
"You acknowledge that your grandfather never will consent to our union,
and you are entirely dependent upon him."
"For the moment. But I am his heir-at-law; nothing can affect that, as
you know."
Heloise was quite aware of it, but she was also aware of how little the
income to which the young Count would fall heir would comport with her
requirements. The matter had been the subject of an exhaustive
discussion, but a little while previously, between herself and her
brother, and the picture that Henri had then so ruthlessly drawn, of
the dull life of a retired provincial town, had little in it to allure
a woman to whom luxury and splendour were as her vital air.
"Then let us hope for the future," she said. "The present is hostile
enough to us. Not only your family dissensions, but political events
threaten to part us."
"Part us? And wherefore?"
"Why, you must see that we cannot stay here if the war, which Henri
thinks unavoidable, should really be declared. As soon as our
ambassador leaves the capital we must go too. Henri tells me to be
ready for a hasty departure."
"Then let Henri go, but stay yourself. I cannot let you go. I know that
I ask a sacrifice of you, but remember what I have sacrificed for your
sake. To lose you now would be too horrible! You must stay!"
"What should I stay for?" she asked, sternly. "To look on while the
general carries out his threat, and sends you in full uniform to fight
against France?"
Raoul clinched his fist. "Heloise, do not you too drive me to
desperation. If you knew all that I have had, and yet have, to bear! My
grandfather has scarcely spoken to me since yesterday, but his eyes,
when he looks at me, make my blood boil, they are so full of scorn. My
mother, from whom I have hitherto never known anything save love and
tenderness, reproaches me bitterly. And now you talk of our parting,
and I must brave it all alone. It is beyond endurance."
He did indeed look like a desperate man, and Heloise gazed at him with
mingled pity and indignation. With all his gallantry, his reckless
bravery, and his scorn of danger, he was but as a reed shaken by the
wind when moral courage was in question.
"Must we be parted?" she asked, gently. "It is for you to decide that,
Raoul."