CHAPTER I.

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RIVEN BONDS.

A Novel,

IN TWO VOLUMES.

TRANSLATED BY

BERTHA NESS,

_FROM THE ORIGINAL OF E. WERNER_,

Author of "SUCCESS AND HOW HE WON IT,"

"UNDER A CHARM," &c.

* * * * *

VOL. II.

* * * * *

London:

REMINGTON AND CO.,

5, Arundel Street, Strand, W.C.

1877.

[_All Rights Reserved_.]

RIVEN BONDS.

CHAPTER I.

"No!" said Captain Almbach. "That cannot be! I have to make a

confession to you, Ella, at the risk of your showing me to the door."

"What have you to confess to me?" asked the astonished Ella.

Hugo looked down.

"That I am still the 'adventurer,' whom you once took so sternly to

task. It did not improve him certainly, but he never attempted since to

approach you with his follies, and cannot to-day either. To make my

tale short, I had no idea you were the inhabitant of this villa, when I

directed my steps here. I had myself announced to a perfectly strange

gentleman, because Marchese Tortoni had spoken of a young lady, who

lived here in complete seclusion, and yes--I knew before hand, that you

would look at me in this way--"

Her glance had indeed met him sadly and reproachfully; then she turned

silently away and looked out of the window. A pause ensued--Hugo went

to her side.

"It was chance which brought me here now, Ella. I am waiting for my

lecture."

"You are free, and have no duty to injure," said the young wife,

coldly. "Besides, my opinion in such matters can hardly have any

influence upon you, Herr Captain Almbach."

"And so Herr Captain Almbach must retire, to find the doors closed

against him next time, is it not so?" Unmistakable agitation was heard

in his voice. "You are very unjust towards me. That I, thinking to find

perfect strangers here, did undertake an adventure--well, that is

nothing new to me; but that I was guilty of the boundless folly of

confessing it to you, although I had the best excuse for deception,

that is very new, and I was only forced to it by your eyes, which

looked at me so big and enquiringly, that I became red as a schoolboy,

and could not go away with a lie. Therefore I hear Herr Captain Almbach

again, who, thank God, had disappeared from our conversation for the

last quarter of an hour."

Ella shook her head slightly.

"You have spoiled all my pleasure in our meeting now, certainly----"

"Did it please you? Did it really?" cried Hugo, interrupting her

eagerly, with sparkling eyes.

"Of course," said she, quietly. "One is always pleased, when far away,

to find greetings and remembrances from home."

"Yes," said Hugo, slowly. "I had quite forgotten that we are country

people also. Then you only recognised the German in me? I must confess

honestly that my feelings were not so purely patriotic when I saw you

again."

"Notwithstanding the unavoidable disillusion which your discovery

prepared for you?" asked Ella, somewhat sharply.

Captain Almbach looked at her unabashed for a few seconds.

"You make me suffer greatly for the imprudent confession, Ella. Be it

so! I must bear it. Only one question before I go, or one petition

rather. May I come again?"

She hesitated with her reply; he came a step nearer.

"May I come again? Ella, what have I done to you that you would banish

me also from your threshold?"

There lay a reproach in the words, which did not fail to make an

impression upon her.

"I do not do so either," replied she, gently. "If you would seek me

again, our door shall not be closed to _you_."

With quick movement, Hugo caught her hand, and carried it to his lips,

but those lips rested on it unusually long, much longer than is

customary in kissing a hand, and Ella appeared to think so, as she drew

it somewhat hastily away. Equally hastily Captain Almbach drew himself

up; the slight red tint which had before lain on his forehead was there

again, and he, who was at other times never at a loss for a civility or

suitable reply, said now merely monosyllabically--

"Thank you. Until we meet again, then!"

"Until we meet again!" replied Ella, with a confusion that contrasted

strangely with the calm and decision which she had shown throughout the

whole interview. It almost seemed as if she repented the permission

just given, and which still she could not withdraw.

A few minutes later, Captain Almbach found himself in the open air, and

slowly he began his return to Mirando. He had again carried out his

will, and fulfilled the promise made so confidently that morning. But

he seemed little inclined to make much of his triumph. Looking back to

the villa, he passed his hand across his forehead, like some one

awaking from a dream.

"I believe that the elegiac atmosphere of Mirando has infected me," he

muttered, angrily. "I begin to look upon the simplest things from the

most fantastically, romantic point of view. What is there, then, in

this meeting that I cannot get over it? The Erlau drawing-rooms have

been a good school to be sure, and the pupil has learned unexpectedly,

quickly, and easily. I suspected something of that for long, and

yet--folly! What is it to me if Reinhold learn at last to repent his

blindness! And she does not even know how near he is, so near that a

meeting cannot be avoided much longer. I fear any attempt at

approaching her would cost Reinhold much dearer than that first one.

What a singularly icy expression there was in her face when I hinted at

the possibility of a reconciliation! That;" here Hugo breathed more

freely, perhaps, in unacknowledged but great satisfaction--"that said,

No! to all eternity. And if chance or fate lead them together, now, it

is too late--now _he_ has lost her."

On the mirror-like blue sea a boat glided, which, coming from S----,

bore in the direction of Mirando. The bark's elegant exterior showed

that it was the property of some rich family, and the two rowers wore

the livery of the Tortonis. Nevertheless, for the gentleman, who

besides these two was the sole occupant of the boat, neither the rapid

motion nor the magnificent panorama all around appeared to possess the

slightest interest. He leant back in his seat, with closed eyes, as if

asleep, and only looked up at last when the boat lay to at the marble

steps, which led directly down from the villa's terrace to the sea. He

stepped out. A sign dismissed the two men, who, like all the Marchese's

servants, were accustomed to pay to their master's celebrated guest,

the same respect as to himself. A few strokes of the oars carried the

boat to one side, and immediately after it was anchored in the little

harbour away by the park.

Reinhold stepped on to the steps, and ascended them slowly. He came

from S----, where Beatrice had, in the meantime, arrived. As usual, the

actress here, also, where all foreigners and inhabitants of position

assembled for their _villegiatura_, was surrounded by acquaintances and

admirers, and Reinhold no sooner found himself at her side than the

same fate, and, indeed, to a greater extent, became his. In Beatrice's

vicinity there was no rest and no relaxation for him; she dragged him

at once into the vortex with her. The hours, which he intended to spend

with her, had become days, which in excitement and distraction did not

yield the palm to the last weeks in town, and after having accompanied

her yester evening to a large fete, which had continued the whole night

until morning's dawn, he had torn himself away at day-break, and thrown

himself into the boat in order to return to Mirando.

He drew a deep breath at the quiet and loneliness around him,

undisturbed even by a word of greeting or welcome. Cesario, as he knew,

had early this morning undertaken an expedition to the neighbouring

island, in Hugo's company, from which both were only expected back

towards evening, and for strangers the villa was not yet accessible.

The young Marchese did not like to be disturbed in the seclusion of his

_villegiatura_, and his steward had received orders not to allow any

strange visitors to enter during his residence, an order which was

carried out most strictly, to the great dissatisfaction of travellers,

by whom Mirando was considered a favourite goal for excursions. The

estate, with its extensive gardens, and magnificent buildings, which in

the north would certainly have been called a castle, and here merely

bore the modest name of a villa, was celebrated far and near, not only

on account of its paradise-like situation and the boundless view over

the sea, but also because of the rich art-treasures which it concealed

inside, and which now merely charmed the eyes of the few who had the

good fortune of being permitted to call themselves the Marchese's

guests.

Short of rest, tired, and yet unable to seek repose and sleep, Reinhold

threw himself on to one of the marble benches in the shade of the

colonnade; he felt strained to the utmost exhaustion. Yes, these sultry

Italian nights, with their intoxicating perfume of flowers, and their

moonlight quiet, or the noisy clamour of a feast, these sunshiny days,

with the ever-blue sky, and the glowing splendour of the earth's

colours, they had given him everything of which he had ever dreamed in

the cold, dreary north; but they had also cost him the best part of his

life's strength. The time was long since passed when all existence

appeared to be only one course of glowing intoxication and of inspiring

dreams to the young composer. This had lasted for months, for years;

then gradually weariness came on, and at last the awaking, when this

beautiful world, sparkling with colour, lay so empty and cold before

him, where the ideals collapsed, and freedom, once so fiercely longed

for, became an endless desert, to which no duty, but also no desire set

a limit. With the fetters which he had broken so eagerly and ruthlessly

he had also lost the reins; he wandered out into the boundless, and the

boundlessness had become a curse to him.

Certainly, the internal Prometheus-like spark preserved the artist from

the fate which overtook so many others, from that helpless sinking into

a sensation of being surfeited and indifferent to everything; but the

same power which ever and ever again forced him out of it, drove him

helpless hither and thither, seeking the only thing which was wanting,

and ever would be wanting. Italy in all its beauty was not able to give

it to him, not Beatrice's glowing love, not art, which had offered him

the fullest wealth of fame--the phantom melted so soon as he stretched

out his arms towards it. And even if the wondrous flora of the south

had displayed itself to him in all its exhilarating glory, still he

would not have found the blue flower of the fairy legends.

Reinhold started up suddenly from his dreams, something had disturbed

him in them. Was it a step, a rustle?--he raised himself, and, with

extreme surprise, saw a lady standing only a few paces distant on the

terrace, gazing out over the sea. What could it mean? How did this

stranger come here, now when Mirando was not accessible to visitors;

she could only a few minutes since have passed through the open door

leading into the saloon, which contained the celebrated collection of

pictures, belonging to the villa, and appeared to have remarked the

solitary dreamer in the colonnade as little as he had remarked her.

Reinhold had long since become indifferent to woman's beauty, but

involuntarily this apparition enchained him. She stood under the shadow

of one of the gigantic vases which ornamented the terrace; only the

bowed head was caught by the full sunlight, and the heavy blonde plaits

gleamed in the rays like spun gold. Her face was half averted. Her

delicate, clear and nobly chiselled profile could hardly be seen. Her

slight figure in its airy white robes leaned lightly in an undeniably

graceful attitude against the marble balustrade; her left hand rested

on it, while the drooping right one held her straw hat decorated with

flowers. She stood immovable, quite lost in contemplation of the sea,

and had evidently no idea that she was observed.

It was still early in the day. The morning had risen bright and clear

out of the sea, and now lay smiling sunnily in dewy freshness over the

whole country. A blue mist still encircled the mountains and the

distant coasts, whose lines seemed to tremble as if blown with a breath

on the horizon, and the still moist air was quivering as if with a

silvery light. There was something fairy-like in this morning hour and

this surrounding, above all in yonder white figure with the golden

glimmering hair, and Mirando itself, with its white marble pillars and

terraces, appeared like a fairy castle, which had risen out of the

liquid depths. Deep blue was the arching sky above, and deep blue the

sea laving its feet. The scent of flowers was wafted hither from the

gardens, but ghostly silence reigned everywhere, as if all life were

banished or sunk in sleep. No sound anywhere, nothing but the gentle

splashing of the sea, ever the same dream-like murmur of the waves,

which kissed the marble steps, and before one nothing to be seen save

the blue, heaving expanse, which extended far away into boundless

distance.

Reinhold remained motionless in his position, he would not disturb the

charm of this moment by any movement. It was as if a breath of the old

legendary poems of his home were wafted to him, long forgotten but

rising now suddenly before him with all their melancholy charms.

Suddenly this deep calm was interrupted by the clear joyfulness of a

child's voice. A boy of about seven or eight rushed up the steps of the

terrace, a large shining mussel shell in his hand, which he had picked

up somewhere on the shore. The child was evidently most delighted with

his discovery, his whole little face beamed, as, with glowing cheeks

and streaming locks, he hastened towards the lady, who turned her head

round at his cry.

With a half suppressed exclamation, Reinhold sprang up and remained as

if rooted to the ground. The moment she had turned her face completely

towards him, he recognised the stranger, who bore Ella's features and

yet could not be Ella. Bewildered, deadly pale, he stared at the lady,

whose poetical appearance he had just been admiring, and who yet, in

every feature, resembled his so despised, and at last forsaken wife.

She, too, had recognised him; the intense pallor which also overspread

her face, betrayed it, as did her sudden start backwards. She grasped

the marble balustrade as if seeking for support, but now the boy had

reached her and, holding the mussel aloft with both hands, cried

triumphantly--

"Mamma! dear mamma, see what I have found!"

This roused Reinhold from his stupor. Bewilderment, fright,

astonishment, all disappeared as he heard his child's voice. Following

the impulse of the moment, he rushed forward, and stretched out his

arms, to draw the boy eagerly to his breast.

"Reinhold!"

Almbach stopped as if struck; but the name was not for him, only for

the boy, who, immediately obeying her call, hastened to his mother.

With a rapid movement she placed both arms around him, as if to protect

and conceal her child, and then drew herself up. The pallor had not

left her face yet, her lips still trembled, but her voice sounded firm

and energetic.

"You must not trouble strangers, Reinhold. Come, my child! We will

go."

Almbach started, and stepped back a pace; the tone was as new to him as

the whole person of her, whom he once called his wife. Had he not

recognised her voice, he would have believed more than ever in a

delusion. The little one, on the contrary, looked up in surprise at the

rebuke. He had not even gone near to the strange gentleman, and

certainly had not troubled him, but he saw in his mother's

colourlessness and excitement that something unusual had occurred, and

the child's large blue eyes fixed themselves defiantly, almost

antagonistically upon the stranger, who, he guessed instinctively, was

the cause of his mother's alarm.

Ella bad already recovered herself. She turned to go, her arm still

held firmly round her boy's shoulder, but Reinhold now stepped hastily

in her way--she was obliged to stop.

"Will you be so good as to allow us to pass?" said she, coldly and

distantly. "I beg you to do so."

"What does this mean, Ella?" exclaimed Reinhold, now in passionate

excitement. "You have recognised me, as well as I have you. Why this

tone between us?"

She looked at him; in that glance lay the whole reply; icy-cold,

annihilating scorn; he had indeed never deemed it possible that Ella's

eyes could look thus, but he turned his to the ground beneath them.

"Will you be so good as to leave us the road free, Signor?" she

repeated in perfectly pure Italian, as if she imagined that he did not

understand German. There lay a positive tone of command in the words,

and Reinhold--obeyed. His self-possession quite lost, he moved aside

and let her pass. He saw how she descended the steps with the child,

how a servant below, in strange livery, who seemed to have waited,

joined them, and how all three hurried through the gardens; but he

himself still stood above on the terrace and tried to remember whether

he had been dreaming and the whole had not been merely a picture of his

imagination.

The noisy locking of the door which led to the picture gallery, brought

him back to his senses. A few steps took him there, and throwing the

door open roughly he entered the saloon, where the steward of Mirando

was just engaged in letting the blinds down again, which he had drawn

up to give a better light.

"Who was the lady with the child, who was just now on the terrace?"

With this hasty question, Reinhold rushed in upon the man, who seemed

shocked when he saw his master's guest before him, having believed him

still to be in S----; he hesitated with his reply in evident confusion.

"Pardon me, Signor, I had no idea that you had returned already, and as

Eccellenza and the Signor Capitano are only expected this evening, I

ventured----"

"Who was the lady?" persisted Reinhold, in feverish impatience, without

paying attention to the answer. "Where did she come from?--quick, I

must know it!"

"From the villa Fiorina," said the steward half-wonderingly,

half-frightened at the questioner's eagerness. "The strange lady wished

to see Mirando, and let her servant apply for her. Eccellenza has

certainly ordered that no visitors are to be admitted during his

residence here, but this morning no one was at home, so I thought I

might make an exception;" he paused, and then added, in a tone of

entreaty, "It would be sure to cause me great trouble with Eccellenza,

if Signor Rinaldo were to tell him."

"I? no," said Reinhold, absently, "what was the lady's name?"

"Erlau, if I understood rightly."

"Erlau?--oh!" Almbach passed his hand over his forehead; "That is all,

Mariano, thank you," said he, and left the saloon.

* * * * *

The day had become burningly hot, nor did the evening bring coolness or

refreshment. Air and sea did not appear to be stirred by any breath,

and the sun went down in hot clouds of mist. In the villa Fiorina also

they seemed to suffer from the oppression. The inhabitants confined

themselves probably to the cooler rooms, as the jalousies had not been

opened the whole day, and the glass doors which led to the terrace

remained closed. The German family hardly occupied half of the

capacious dwelling which it had engaged entirely for itself. A

few rooms to the right of the garden saloon were arranged for the

Consul--those on the opposite side were inhabited by his adopted

daughter, with her child; the servants were located in the back

apartments, and the rest remained empty.

The evening was already far advanced when Ella entered the garden

saloon, which was illuminated by a lamp. The Consul had retired to

rest, and she came from her boy, whom, after he had fallen asleep, she

had left to his attendant's care. Perhaps it was the dim light which

made her face still appear pale; the colour had not returned to it

since the morning, even although her features seemed perfectly calm.

She opened the glass door and stepped out on to the terrace. Outside,

perfect darkness reigned already; no moon's rays pierced the clouds

which still enveloped the sky, no breath of wind from the sea moved the

blooming shrubs; sultry and heavy, the air seemed regularly to weigh

upon the earth, and the sea lay in idle repose, almost motionless. It

was alarming in this dense stillness and darkness, yet Ella appeared to

prefer this to remaining in the lighted garden saloon. She stood

leaning against the stone balustrade, as in the morning, partially

still in the pale circle of light which fell through the open door on

to the terrace, and, although indistinctly, displayed the slight form.

A few moments may have passed thus, when she was startled by a noise

near her. With a low cry, she tried to take refuge in the house, as

close by her there stood a tall, dark man's figure; at the same moment,

however, a hand was laid upon her arm, and a suppressed voice said--

"Be composed, Ella, it is neither a robber nor a thief who stands

before you, although you have forced me to choose the path of such an

one."

The young wife had recognised Reinhold's voice at the first word, but

she only drew back nearer to the threshold of the glass door.

"What do you desire, Signor?" said she coldly, in Italian. "And what

does this intrusion at such an hour mean?"

Reinhold had followed her, but he did not again attempt to touch her

arm, or even go near her.

"Above all, I wish you to have the goodness to speak German to me,"

retorted he, with difficulty restraining his excitement. "I have not

quite forgotten our own language, as you seem to suppose. Whence do I

come? From yonder boat! The terrace, at least is not so inaccessible as

the doors of your house, which remained closed to me."

He pointed towards the sea. It was a risk to ascend the high stone

terrace from a tossing boat, but Reinhold did not seem to be in a mood

to think of the possibility of danger. He had apparently been there

already when she came out, and now continued more excitedly--

"It is probably not unknown to you that I have been here once already

this morning. But you refused me, or rather Erlau did, because as a

matter of course I was not so wanting in tact as to enquire for you. He

neither received me nor the note, which contained my petition, yet you

must both have known what brought me here, so nothing but self-help

remained. You see I have gained admittance after all."

He spoke with keenest bitterness. The proud composer felt the double

rejection which he had experienced to-day to be a deadly insult. One

could hear how he struggled with his pride, even now, for every word,

and it must have been a powerful motive which brought him here,

notwithstanding all, and by such a path! His wife had clearly no share

in it, as he stood opposite her in gloomy, unbending defiance. As a

boy, Reinhold Almbach could never bear to humble himself, not even when

he knew himself to be wrong, and during the latter years he had too

often gained the dangerous experience that any error he committed was

covered by the right of genius, which may permit itself to do almost

anything.

While these last words were being spoken, they had entered the garden

below. In the middle of it Ella stopped.

"Signor Rinaldo appears to have mistaken his way, this time," said she,

certainly in German, but in the same tone as before. "Yonder in S----,

lies the villa where Signora Biancona resides, and it can only be a

mistake which landed his boat at our terrace."

The reproach hit him; Almbach's defiant look sank, and for a few

moments he was at a loss for a reply.

"I do not seek Signora Biancona this time," replied he at last, "and

that I am not permitted to seek Eleonore Almbach, she showed me

sufficiently this morning. It was not my intention to offend you again

by sight of me; it would have been spared you, had you acceded to my

written request. I came to see my child alone."

With a rapid step the young wife reached the bedroom door, and placed

herself before it. She did not speak a word, but in the evident

internal emotion there lay such an energetic protest, that Reinhold

immediately understood her intention.

"Will you not allow me to embrace my son?" asked he, angrily.

"No," was the firm reply, given with the most positive determination.

Reinhold was about to fly into a passion; she saw how he clenched his

fist, but he forced himself to be calm.

"I see that I did your late father injustice," said he, bitterly; "I

took it to be his work that all news of my boy was withheld from me.

Did you read my first letter yourself, and leave it unanswered?"

"Yes."

"And returned the second unopened?"

"Yes."

Reinhold's face changed from red to white; mutely he gazed at his wife,

from whose lips he had never heard an expression of her own will, much

less any opposition--whom he only knew as humbly and silently obedient,

and who now dared to refuse with such decision to grant him what he

considered his own right.

"Take care, Ella," said he, firmly, "whatever may have taken place

between us, whatever you may have to reproach me with, this tone of

scorn I will not endure; and above all, I will not tolerate being

refused the sight of my boy. I will see my child."

The demand sounded almost threatening. The young wife's pale cheeks

began to colour slightly, but she did not move from her place.

"Your child?" asked she, slowly; "the boy belongs to me, me only; you

lost every right to him when you left him with me."

"That may still be questioned," cried Almbach, beginning to wax

furious. "Are we judicially separated? Has the law given Reinhold to

you? He remains my son, whatever there may be between you and me; and

if you refuse me my rights as a father any longer, I shall know how to

enforce them."

The threat was not without effect, but it quite failed in its purpose.

Ella drew herself up, and exclaimed with quivering lips, but with great

energy--

"You will not do that; you have not the conscience to do it, and if you

had, there is, thank God, another power to which I can appeal, and

which is, perhaps, not quite so indifferent to you as the family bonds

and duties which you broke so lightly. The world would learn that

Signor Rinaldo, after he had forsaken his wife and child for years, and

had not enquired after them, now dares to threaten his wife with the

same laws which he scorned and spurned with his feet, because she does

not choose that her boy should call him father; and all your fame, and

all the adoration yonder, would not protect you from the merited

contempt."

"Eleonore!"

It was a cry of rage which escaped his lips as she uttered the last

word, and his eyes flashed in terrific wildness down upon the delicate

form standing before him. Once Reinhold's passion was excited to its

utmost, it knew no limits, and all around him were wont to tremble.

Even Beatrice, although so little his inferior in violence, dared not

at such moments irritate him farther; she knew where the line was

drawn, and once this was reached she always yielded. Here it was

different; the first time for years he was stranded by another's will;

before the eyes which met his own, so clear and large, his defiance

succumbed altogether--he was silent.

"You see yourself that it would be worse than mockery were you to

resort to law," said his wife, more calmly.

Reinhold leaned heavily against the seat near which he stood. Was it

shame or anger made the hand tremble which buried itself in the

cushion?

"I see that I laboured under a serious mistake when I believed I knew

the woman who was called my wife for two years," replied he, in a

singularly compressed tone. "Had you only once shown yourself to be the

same Eleonore whom I meet now, much would have remained undone. Who

taught you this language?"

"The hour in which you forsook me," replied she, with annihilating

coldness, as she turned away.

"That hour seems to have given you much more that was once foreign to

you--the pleasure of revenge, for example."

"And the pride, which I never knew, towards you," completed Ella. "I

had first to be crushed to the ground, but it awoke and showed me what

I owed to myself and my child, the only thing you had left to me, the

only thing that kept me up; for his sake I began again to learn, to

work, when the time for learning lay far behind me; for his sake I

roused myself above the prejudices and trammels of my education, and

gave my life a new direction when my parents' death made me free. I

must be everything now to the child, as it was everything to me, and I

had sworn that my child should never be ashamed of its mother, as his

father was ashamed of her, because externally she was inferior to other

women."

Almbach's brow was dyed a deeper red at the last words--

"It was not my intention to dispute Reinhold with you," said he

hastily. "I only wished to see him in your presence if it must be. You

know only too well what a weapon the child is in your hands, and you

use it mercilessly against me, Ella." He came nearer to her and for the

first time there was something like a tone of entreaty in his voice.

"Ella, it is our child. This link at least extends out of the past into

the present, the only one between us which is not broken. Will you

break it now? Shall the chance which brought us together really remain

merely chance? It lies in your hands to make it a turning point of fate

which may perhaps be for the good of us both."

The hint was plain enough, but the young wife drew back, and on her

countenance again that expression, full of meaning--that "No!" spoke to

all eternity.

"For us both?" repeated she. "Then you really believe I could find

happiness by your side, after all you have done to me? Truly Reinhold,

you must be much impressed with your own value, or my worthlessness,

that you venture to offer it to me. Certainly, when could you have

learned respect for me? It was not possible in my parents' house. I was

brought up in obedience and submission, and I brought both to my

husband. What was my reward for it? I was the last in his house, and

the last in his heart. He never thought it worth while to ask if the

woman, to whom he had bound himself, was really so contracted in mind,

so incapable of appreciating anything higher, or if she were only

rendered timid by the oppression of her mode of bringing up, from which

we both suffered. He rejected my shy attempt to approach him,

scornfully, woundingly, and let me feel hourly and daily that only the

merit of being his child's mother gave me any claim upon his endurance.

And when art and life were opened to him, he cast me aside as a burden,

which he had borne long enough with dislike; he gave me up to be the

talk of the world, to scorn, to dishonouring pity; he left me for the

sake of another, and at this other's side never asked if his wife's

heart were broken at the death-stroke he had dealt her--and now, you

think that only one word is needed to undo all this! You think you only

require to stretch out your hand to draw to yourself again that which

once you rejected! Do you think it? No; one cannot play so with what is

holiest upon earth; and if you thought the despised, repulsed Ella

would obey the first sign by which you signify that you would take her

back into favour, I tell you now she would rather die with her child,

than follow you once more. You have set yourself free from your duties

as husband and father, and we have learnt to do without the husband and

father. You have shown it, plainly enough, that we are the 'bonds'

which fettered the wings of your genius--well, now they are broken,

broken by you, and I give you my word for it, they shall never oppress

you again. You have your laurels and your--muse; what do you want with

wife and child also?"

She ceased, overcome with excitement, and pressed both hands against

her stormily heaving bosom. Reinhold had become deadly pale, and yet

his eyes hung on her as if enchained. The lamp-light fell full upon her

face and the fair plaits as on that evening when he announced the

separation so mercilessly. But what had become of that Ella who then

hung timidly and shyly on his looks, and obediently followed every

sign, every mood? No one trait of her was to be discovered in the being

who stood drawn up opposite him, so haughty and proud, and who hurled

back so energetically upon him the humiliations she had once received.

They could burn, these blue fairy-tale eyes, burn in glowing

indignation; he saw this now, but he saw also, for the first time, how

wondrously beautiful they were, how ravishing the whole appearance of

the young wife--in the excitement, and amid the anger and rage of the

highly irritated husband, something flashed out which almost resembled

admiration.

"Is that your final word?" asked he at last, after a pause of some

seconds.

"My final one!"

With a rapid movement, Reinhold drew himself up. All his antagonism and

pride broke forth again at this mode of refusal. He went towards the

door, while Ella remained immovable at her post, but at the threshold

he stopped once more and turned back.

"I did not ask if my wife's heart were broken by the death-stroke which

I dealt her," repeated he in a smothered voice; "Did you feel it at all,

Ella?"

She was silent.

"I certainly did not believe it then," continued Reinhold bitterly,

"and to-day's meeting makes me doubt more than ever that your heart

suffered from a separation which certainly wounded your pride more

deeply than I had ever deemed possible. You need not guard the door so

anxiously; I see, indeed, that I must first dash you aside in order to

reach the child, and that courage I possess not. You have conquered

this time; I renounce my purpose of seeing him again. Farewell!"

He went. She heard his steps outside on the terrace, then the rustle of

the shrubs as he pushed his way through them, and at last the stroke of

the oars, which bore the boat away from the shore. The wife breathed

more freely, and left the place she had defended so energetically. She

went to the glass door; perhaps a slight anxiety arose in her as to

whether the venturesome leap from the terrace would be as successful as

the ascent to it had been, but in the darkness nothing could be

distinguished. As before, the sea lay in idle calm. Far above, the

still, sultry night spread its wings, and flowers bloomed all around,

but every trace of Reinhold had disappeared.