If man could still retain his warmth of soul when experience has
taught him, if he could inherit the legacies of time without
bending beneath the weight, he would never attack those exalted
virtues whose first lesson is ever self-sacrifice.--MADAME DE
STAËL: _Germany_.
“Well, what is it? You, Poël! what brings you here?”
“Your Excellency forgets that you yourself summoned me.”
“Did I?” said the general. “Oh, I wanted you to hand me that portfolio.”
Poël handed the governor the portfolio, which he could have reached
himself by stretching out his arm.
His Excellency mechanically replaced it without opening it; then he
turned over some papers in an absentminded way.
“Poël, I was going to ask you--What time is it?”
“Six o’clock in the morning,” replied the general’s servant, who was
facing the clock.
“I was going to tell you, Poël--What is the news to-day at the palace?”
The general went on shuffling his papers, writing a few words on each
with a preoccupied air.
“Nothing, your Excellency, except that we are still expecting my noble
master, about whom I see the general is anxious.”
The general rose from his big writing-table, and looked at Poël somewhat
angrily.
“Your eyes are very poor, Poël. I, anxious about Ordener, indeed! I know
the reason for his absence; I do not expect him yet.”
General Levin de Knud was so jealous of his authority that he would have
considered it compromised had a subaltern been able to guess his secret
thoughts, and learn that Ordener had acted without his orders.
“Poël,” he added, “you may go.”
The servant left the room.
“Really,” exclaimed the general when he was left alone, “Ordener uses
and abuses his privileges. A blade too often bent will break. To make me
spend a night in sleepless impatience! To expose General Levin to the
sarcasms of a chancellor’s wife and the conjectures of a servant! And
all this that an aged enemy may have those first greetings which are due
to an old friend! Ordener! Ordener! whims are destructive of liberty!
Let him come, only let him come now, deuce take me if I don’t receive
him as gunpowder does fire,--I’ll blow him up! To expose the governor of
Throndhjem to a servant’s conjectures and a she-chancellor’s sarcasms!
Let him come!”
The general went on making marginal notes on his papers without reading
them, so all-absorbing was his ill-temper.
“General! my noble father!” cried a familiar voice; and Ordener clasped
in his arms the old man, who did not even try to repress a cry of joy.
“Ordener, my good Ordener! Zounds! how glad I am!” He collected his
thoughts in the middle of his phrase. “I am glad, Baron, that you have
learned to control your feelings. You seem pleased to see me again. It
was probably to mortify your flesh, that you deprived yourself of that
pleasure for a whole day and night.”
“Father, you have often told me that an unfortunate enemy should be put
before a fortunate friend. I come from Munkholm.”
“Of course,” said the general, “when the enemy’s misfortune is imminent.
But Schumacker’s future--”
“Looks more threatening than ever. Noble General, there is an odious
plot on foot against that unlucky man. Men born his friends, would ruin
him; a man born his foe, must serve him.”
The general, whose face had gradually cleared, interrupted Ordener.
“Very good, my dear Ordener. But what are you talking about? Schumacker
is under my protection. What men? What plots?”
Ordener could scarcely have replied plainly to this question. He had but
very vague gleams of light, very uncertain suspicions as to the position
of the man for whom he was about to expose his life. Many will think
that he acted foolishly; but young hearts do what they think right by
instinct, and not from calculation; and besides, in this world, where
prudence is so barren and wisdom so caustic, who denies that generosity
is folly? All is relative on earth, where all is limited; and virtue
would be the greatest madness if there were no God behind man. Ordener
was at the age to believe and to be believed. He risked his life
trustingly. Even the general accepted reasons which would not have borne
calm discussion.
“What plots? What men? Good father, in a few days I shall have solved
the mystery; then you shall know all that I know. I must start off again
to-night.”
“What!” cried the old man, “can you spare me but a few hours? Where are
you going? Why are you going, my dear son?”
“You have sometimes allowed me, my noble father, to perform a
praiseworthy act in secret.”
“Yes, my brave boy; but you are going without knowing why, and you know
what an important affair requires your presence here.”
“My father has given me a month to consider the matter, and I shall
devote that time to the interests of another. A good deed is often
fruitful in good advice. Besides, we will see about it on my return.”
“How!” anxiously asked the general; “don’t you like this match? They
say that Ulrica d’Ahlefeld is very beautiful. Tell me, have you seen
her?”
“I believe I have,” said Ordener. “Yes, I believe that she is handsome.”
“Well?” rejoined the governor.
“Well,” said Ordener, “she will never be my wife.”
These cold, decisive words startled the general as if he had received a
violent blow. He recalled the suspicions of the haughty countess.
“Ordener,” said he, shaking his head, “I ought to be wise, for I have
sinned. Well, I am nothing but an old fool! Ordener, the prisoner has a
daughter--”
“Oh,” cried the young man, “General, I wanted to speak to you of her. I
ask your protection, father, for that helpless and oppressed young
girl.”
“Indeed,” said the governor, gravely, “your request is urgent.”
Ordener recovered himself.
“And why should it not be urgent for a poor captive whose life, and,
what is far more precious, her honor, is in danger?”
“Life! honor! Why, I still govern here, and I know nothing of all these
horrors! Explain yourself.”
“Noble father, the lives of the prisoner and his defenceless daughter
are threatened by an infernal plot.”
“What you say is serious. What proofs have you?”
“The oldest son of a powerful family is even now at Munkholm. He is
there to seduce Countess Ethel; he told me so himself.”
The general started back.
“Good God! Poor, forlorn creature! Ordener, Ordener, Ethel and
Schumacker are under my protection. Who is this wretch? What is the name
of the family?”
Ordener approached the general and wrung his hand.
“It is the D’Ahlefeld family.”
“D’Ahlefeld!” said the governor. “Yes, it is all clear. Lieutenant
Frederic is at Munkholm now. My noble Ordener, would they marry you to
such a brood! I understand your aversion, Ordener.”
The old man, folding his arms, thought for some moments, then clasped
Ordener in his embrace.
“Ordener, you may go. Your friends shall not lack protection; I will
guard them. Yes, go; you are perfectly right. That infernal Countess
d’Ahlefeld is here; did you know it?”
“The noble lady, Countess d’Ahlefeld,” said the usher, opening the door.
At that name, Ordener mechanically withdrew to the back of the room; and
the countess, entering without seeing him, exclaimed,--
“General, your pupil is deceiving you. He never went to Munkholm.”
“Indeed?” said the general.
“Good gracious, no! My son Frederic, who has just left the palace, was
on duty yesterday in the donjon, and he saw no one.”
“Really, noble lady?” repeated the general.
“So,” added the countess, with a triumphant smile, “you need not wait
for your Ordener any longer, General.”
The governor was cold and calm.
“I am no longer expecting him, Countess, it is true.”
“General,” said the countess, turning, “I thought we were alone. Who is
this?”
The countess looked searchingly at Ordener, who bowed.
“Really,” she continued, “I never saw him but once; still, if it were
not for that dress, I should say--General, is this the viceroy’s son?”
“Himself, noble lady,” said Ordener, with another bow.
The countess smiled.
“In that case, permit a lady who will soon be more closely allied to
you, to ask where you were yesterday, Count?”
“Count! I do not think that I am so unfortunate as to have lost my noble
father yet, my lady countess.”
“Certainly not; that was not my meaning. It is better to become a count
by taking a wife than by losing a father.”
“One is no better than the other, noble lady.”
The countess, although slightly confused, made up her mind to laugh
heartily.
“Come, the stories that I have heard are true. Your manners are somewhat
boorish; but you will grow more used to accepting gifts from fair hands
when Ulrica d’Ahlefeld has put the chain of the Order of the Elephant
about your neck.”
“A chain indeed!” said Ordener.
“You will see, General Levin,” resumed the countess, whose laugh was
somewhat forced, “that your intractable pupil will not consent to
receive his colonel’s brevet from a lady’s hand either.”
“You are right, Countess,” replied Ordener; “a man who wears a sword
ought not to owe his epaulettes to a petticoat.”
The great lady’s face darkened.
“Ho! ho! whence comes the baron? Is it really true that your Highness
was not at Munkholm yesterday?”
“Noble lady, I do not always satisfy all questions. But, General, you
and I will meet again.”
Then, pressing the old man’s hand and bowing to the countess, he quitted
the room, leaving the lady, amazed at the extent of her own ignorance,
alone with the governor, who was furious at the amount of his
knowledge.