Captain Almbach tried in vain to speak in his old scoffing way; to-day
it would not come to his aid. His lips quivered, and his words sounded
like the bitterest irony. Ella saw how deeply the wound had eaten into
the man whom in this respect she had considered invulnerable.
"You should have gone long since, Hugo," said she, in gentle reproach,
"now it is too late to spare you the pain; but if a sister's love--"
"For God's sake, refrain from that," interrupted he impetuously. "Only
none of that respect, friendship, and all the fine things with which
ideal people console themselves in like cases, and which kill an
ordinary man, when his throbbing heart is expected to satisfy itself
with them. I know, indeed, that you have always looked upon me as a
brother, that your heart has always and ever clung to Reinhold, even
then, when he betrayed and forsook you; but I cannot bear to hear it
now from your lips. Of course it serves me right. Why did I become
untrue to her, my beautiful blue bride of the ocean, to whom now only I
belong? She makes me atone for ever having thought of forsaking her for
another, and yet it always seemed to me as if I gazed into her blue
depths when I looked into Ella's eyes." He threw his head back with a
half-defiant motion. "And to me those, eyes unveiled themselves first,
then, when my brother never suspected what riches he called his own. I
knew better than he what the woman was whom he gave up for a Biancona's
sake, and in despite of that he bears away the prize for which I could
have given everything. Such demon-like, artistic natures always conquer
one of us who have nothing to oppose excepting a warm heart and ardent,
bounteous love. Reinhold takes back what never, even for a moment,
ceased to be his own property, and I--go; so we are all provided for."
An immeasurable bitterness lay in these words, which betrayed only too
well that his love for his brother could no longer resist a passion
which appeared to have changed Hugo's entire nature. He made a movement
as if to leave the room. Ella held him back.
"No, Hugo, you shall not go thus," said she, firmly. "Not with this
bitterness against Reinhold and me in your heart. Our happiness has
already had to be rebuilt on the ruins of a stranger's life; it would
be too dearly paid for if it were to cost us our brother also. We
should never, never get over it if we knew you were unhappy far
away--unhappy through us."
She had raised her eyes to him beseechingly and sadly. Captain Almbach
looked down upon the young wife with a singular mixture of anger and
tenderness.
"Do not trouble about me," replied he, with emotion, "I do not belong
to those men who at once yield themselves up to despair because they
must tear themselves away from that on which their whole heart now
hangs, and if in the wrench, a piece of the heart goes too, well, he
can bear it still as it is. I shall bear it; whether I shall overcome
it is a different question. When Reinhold is quite recovered again,
tell him what has driven me away from being near him and you. I do not
wish to stand before my brother as a hypocrite, and I should have
confessed it to him myself long since, only that I still dreaded the
excitement for him of such an acknowledgment; he has become only much
too irritable on every point which concerns you. Tell him that Hugo
_could_ not stay--not one hour longer--and that he had given you his
word not to return again until he could appear before his brother's
wife as he ought."
The hand, which was extended to her in farewell, grasped hers with a
convulsive pressure, when the door opened, and little Reinhold rushed
in, flying to his uncle with childish eagerness--
"Uncle Hugo, you are going away?" cried he breathlessly. "Jonas has
packed his boxes, and says you will leave to-morrow morning. Uncle
Hugo, you shall not; you must stay with us."
Captain Almbach lifted up the boy, and pressed his lips with passionate
violence upon the child's--
"Take that kiss to your mother," whispered he in a half-smothered
voice. "She will surely dare to take it from your lips. Farewell my
child. Farewell, Ella!"
"Mamma," said little Reinhold, as he looked astonished after his
uncle--who had put him down so hastily and then left the room--"Mamma,
what is the matter with Uncle Hugo? He cried actually, as he kissed
me."
Ella drew the child nearer to her, and now her lips also touched the
child's forehead, which was still damp, as if from two tears having
fallen upon it.
"It grieves your uncle to leave us," answered she, softly. "But he must
go--God grant that he may return to us one day."
* * * * *
The course of time had altered but little in the old seaport and
commercial town of H----. It looked just the same as ten years ago,
when the Italian Opera Company gave its first performances there. The
older portion of the town lay just as gloomy and full of corners, the
newer as aristocratic and quiet as in those days. In the streets and by
the harbour the old busy life and activity still reigned, and now, on a
spring evening, the old damp, foggy atmosphere lay again upon the town
and its environs.
In the Erlau's house, unusual excitement prevailed. The extensive
establishment usually conducted with such superior quiet and
punctuality, to-day seemed to be quite out of gear. There was incessant
running to and fro; the whole suite of rooms was thrown open and
illuminated; the servants were in gala livery, and were called first to
one place, and then to another with different orders. The carriage had
been despatched more than an hour ago to the railway station, and just
now the relative who superintended the Consul's household, an elderly
lady, entered the drawing-room, accompanied by Dr. Welding.
"I assure you, Herr Doctor, one can do nothing with my cousin,"
complained she, as she sat down in an arm chair with a countenance
expressive of exhaustion. "He disturbs the whole house, and drives all
the servants into confusion with his orders and arrangements. Nothing
is festive and brilliant enough for him. Of course I rejoice to see my
dear Eleonore again, and to become personally acquainted with her
celebrated husband; but the Consul has made me so nervous already with
his excitement that I only wish the reception ceremonies were over."
"But this is the first time he welcomes his adopted daughter to his
house again," said Welding. The Doctor was barely altered in the long
lapse of time, he merely looked a little older. It was still the same
sharp, intelligently-cut face, the penetrating glance, and tone of
irony peculiar to him in his voice, with which he now continued: "Herr
Reinhold Almbach appears most decidedly to maintain the superiority of
his influence over his wife compared with that of the Consul. You know
he has actually managed that Erlau should always go to them in the
'capital,' and we were not allowed, not withstanding all promises, to
see Frau Eleonore until her husband determined to accompany her here.
He cannot spare her for a single week it appears!"
"No, certainly not," cried the lady excitedly. "You should only hear my
cousin relate all about it; he who was at first so prejudiced against
Reinhold, is now quite reconciled to him and Eleonore's happiness.
Between them reigns a love so pure and clear, so firm and strong, and
yet surrounded by such a fairy-like, poetic halo, that it almost sounds
like a legend in our time, so wanting in happiness and love!"
The Doctor inclined himself ironically. "Perfectly right, dear Madam. I
see with pleasure what appreciative attention you bestow on my
articles. Exactly the same sentiment appeared in No. 12 of the morning
paper, in a review of the _libretto_ of Reinhold's newest opera."
"Really? Was it in the morning paper?" asked the lady, somewhat
confused; she seemed glad that at this moment the Consul entered the
room, who, without perceiving the Doctor, in his joyous excitement
hastened towards her at once.
"My dear cousin, I have been seeking for you everywhere. The carriage
may return from the station any moment, and we had agreed to receive
the dear guests together. Has the red boudoir been sufficiently
lighted, as I ordered? Is Henry downstairs in the vestibule with the
other servants? Have you--"
"Cousin, you make me nervous with your incessant inquiries," cried the
lady, in a rather irritated tone. "Is it then, the first time you have
confided the arrangements of an entertainment to me? I have twice
already assured you that everything is ordered according to your
wishes."
"That is not enough for to-day," said Welding, joining in the
conversation. "This time the Consul himself undertakes the part of
master of the ceremonies, and inspects the whole house, from garret to
cellar. Woe to him who does not appear before him in gala dress!"
"Scoff away!" laughed the Consul, "I shall not let it spoil the
pleasure of the meeting, and indeed, I am quite reconciled to you, Herr
Doctor, since you introduced such a hymn of praise about Reinhold's
last work in your morning paper."
"Excuse me, I write no hymns of praise," said the Doctor, somewhat
piqued. "On the contrary, I often experience that my criticisms are
favoured with much less flattering names by the artists. Lately,
our great dramatic and heroic tenor, who, as you know, retains his
high-tragic, stage pathos even in real life, called my verdict on one
of his principal parts 'the outflow of the blackest malice, which the
black soul of man had ever produced!' What do you say to that?"
"Well, Reinhold, too, had to endure plenty from your pen," suggested
Erlau. "Fortunately, he did not see our morning paper in Italy in those
days, otherwise he would have had to read very unpleasant things about
the lamentable direction of an undeniably great talent; of unpardonable
wastefulness of the most precious gifts; of the mistakes of a genius,
which, capable of the highest, yet was on the road to ruin himself and
art; and many more such civilities."
"With which you were quite unanimous at the time," added Welding.
"Certainly, I was an open opponent of Reinhold's. Unconditionally, as I
ever recognised his great talents, much as I encouraged him in his
first artistic attempts, I decidedly objected to the line he struck out
later in Italy. Now it has become quite different. His latest work
shows an alteration for which one can only wish him and art success. He
has forced himself through wild fermentation to perfect freedom and
clearness of artistic composition. His genius seems to have found the
right course at last; this work stands thoroughly at the height of his
talent."
"Naturally--and that is alone Eleonore's merit," said Erlau, with
unshaken confidence, while his cousin listened very devoutly to the
Doctor's words.
"Does Frau Almbach help her husband to compose?" asked Welding,
maliciously.
"Leave your malice alone, Herr Doctor! You know quite well what I
mean," cried the Consul, annoyed. "Now Henry, what is it?" asked he,
turning to the servant who entered quickly, and announced that the
carriage was arriving.
"Cousin! for mercy's sake go slower! All the servants are in the hall,"
cried the old lady, who had prepared to receive the arrivals solemnly
and with dignity, and was now dragged forward so hastily by the Consul,
who seized her arm, that the magnificence of her train could not be
displayed to advantage. Erlau did not listen to her protestations, she
was obliged to rush to the stairs with him. Dr. Welding, who had come
by chance, without knowing the hour of the arrival, considered himself
entitled, as friend of the house, to witness the family scene. He
therefore remained in the drawing-room while the first speeches of
reception and welcome were made outside. With great tenderness the
Consul greeted his adopted daughter and little Reinhold, who, in
fullest joy, hung on his neck. His cousin, on the contrary, seemed to
have taken forcible possession of the bigger Reinhold, whom she
conducted into the drawing-room amid a stream of compliments, while the
others lingered in the first rooms.
"I rejoice exceedingly to make the acquaintance of my dear Eleonore's
husband, whom I may surely greet as a relation as well as the renowned
Rinaldo," assured she, while still in the doorway. "And all H---- will
be proud once again to see its distinguished townsman within its walls.
Herr Almbach, we can only wish you and art success in your newest work;
it stands thoroughly at the height of your talent. Your genius has at
last--yes, at last--"
"Discovered the right course," suggested Dr. Welding, most amicably, as
he stood near.
"Discovered the right course," continued the lady, freshly inspired.
"You have forced your way through wild fermentation to most perfect
freedom, and to higher spheres."
"Not quite true to the words, but it will do," murmured Welding to
himself, while Reinhold, somewhat taken aback at this shower-bath of
aesthetic form of speech, bowed to the lady. Fortunately, the latter now
saw Ella enter on the Consul's arm, and hastened to embrace her and her
boy, while the Doctor went towards Reinhold.
"May an old acquaintance recall himself to your recollection, Herr
Almbach? I am not quite so bold as to receive you at once with
criticising praise such as you have just experienced, but I do not
welcome you the less warmly in your home."
"Aunt means it kindly," said Reinhold, half making an excuse for her.
"It was rather astounding for me at first----" he stopped.
"To be received with one of my reviews," added the Doctor. "Oh, your
aunt often does me the honour of reproducing my articles, although
certainly sometimes on rather unsuitable occasions and with her own
variations, for which I do not undertake the responsibility; for
instance, with the 'higher spheres' I have usually nothing to do."
Reinhold smiled. "Time has left no marks upon you, Doctor; you still
preserve your old _role_. Every third word you utter, is one of
sarcasm."
"Pretty well," said "Welding, shrugging his shoulders, and turning to
Ella, who greeted the old friend heartily as she stretched out her hand
to him.
"Well, how do you find our Eleonore?" cried the Consul, triumphantly.
"Does she not bloom like a rose? And the 'little one' has become so big
that we must soon seek another designation for him."
Dr. Welding smiled, and this time, as an exception, without any
maliciousness, while he replied, "Frau Eleonore has remained just like
herself. That is the best compliment which one can pay her. Certainly,
dear madam, I am not the last who will rejoice at this meeting, and
also that the Erlau drawing-rooms, at any rate for the next few weeks,
will stand again under your sceptre. Between ourselves," he lowered his
voice, "it becomes sometimes rather serious when your aunt takes the
lead in conversations on art."
The excitement and pleasure of meeting had made the arrivals only
retire to rest very late. The morning sun was shining clearly and
brightly in at the windows, when Ella entered the apartment which had
been her sitting and work-room during her residence in the Erlau's
house. It still displayed all the former costly furniture with which
Erlau had surrounded his favourite. Reinhold was there already; he
stood at the window, and looked down upon the streets of his native
town, which he now visited for the first time after nearly ten years'
absence. It was no longer the young composer who, in obstinate struggle
with his surroundings and family, destroyed his fetters as well as his
duties, so as to throw himself into a course which promised him fame
and love, and which attained both by force; but neither was it the
Rinaldo, whose wild, social life in Italy, had so often challenged the
world's condemnation, which appeared to know no other bridle, no other
law than his own personal will, and to whom the admiration on the part
of the public and all around him, threatened to become so ruinous.
There lay nothing more in his manner of haughty overbearing or wounding
brusqueness, only that quiet self-consciousness was displayed, which
showed to the advantage of the man as well as of the composer. In his
eye still flashed some of the old passion, which had formed Rinaldo's
peculiar element in life as in his works; but the wild, unsteady flame
which once burned in this glance was extinguished, and what now beamed
there was better suited to the quiet, rather sombre expression of his
features. Whatever a wild, surging life might have buried in this
countenance, it spoke now only of what it had conquered; and the
dreamy, thoughtful gaze which at this moment was seeking the gable of
the old house in Canal Street, where it arose plainly from amidst the
confusion of houses, was quite that of the former Reinhold--of that
Reinhold who, in the small, narrow garden-house, had sat so often
before his piano, and called forth those tones which then might only be
raised in the night if he did not wish to be upbraided for the "useless
phantasies" which the world now called the outpourings of his genius.
Ella drew near her husband. Her appearance, indeed, justified the
Consul's declaration, she bloomed like a rose. The last three years had
robbed this charming figure of none of its grace, but instead had given
her an expression of happiness in which she had once been wanting.
"Have you received letters so early?" asked she, pointing to two open
writings which lay on the table.
Reinhold smiled--
"Of course! They were sent after us from the residence, and the sender
of this letter," he lifted up the one, "you will not guess, I am sure.
My newest work has brought in one thing at any rate, which is more
precious to me than all the ovations with which we have been
overwhelmed--a letter from Cesario. You know how deeply hurt he
withdrew from us and rendered impossible every attempt on my part at
approaching him or being reconciled. He could not forgive you for
having so long been silent towards him, nor me, that I stood in the way
of his happiness; I have had no sign of his being alive for three
years, as you know. The first performance of my opera in Italy has
broken the ice at last; he writes again with the old cordiality and
enthusiasm, congratulates me upon my new work, which he exalts far
above its deserts, and announces at the same time his intended marriage
with the daughter of Princess Orvieto. She will be his wife in a few
weeks."
Ella had stepped to her husband's side, and over his shoulder read the
letter which he held in his hand, and in which there was not a single
word of allusion to her.
"Do you know the bride?" asked she at last.
"Only a little! I saw her once only in her father's house, and merely
remember her as a pretty lively child. She was educated in a convent,
and then was paying a short visit in her parents' house. But I know
that this union, even in those days, was a favourite wish of the
families on both sides, to which Cesario's dislike to every bond which
could fetter his future, as to any marriage in fact, was the only
obstacle. Now, when years have passed, and the young Princess is grown
up, they appear to have resumed the plan again, and Cesario has given
way to his relations' pressure. Whether this _marriage de convenance_
can give what such an ardent romantic nature as his is requires, is
certainly another question."
Ella looked thoughtfully on the ground--
"You said though, that the bride is young and pretty, and Cesario is
surely the man to inspire love in such a youthful creature, who is just
entering life from a convent's education."
"We will hope so," said Reinhold gravely. "The second letter is from
Hugo, and dated from----"
A slight blush passed over the young wife's countenance, as she asked
with lively eagerness--
"Well, is he coming at last? May we expect him?"
Reinhold shook his head gently--
"No Ella, our Hugo will not come this time either; we must resign
ourselves not to see him. Here, read it yourself!"
He handed her the somewhat bulky letter. The first page contained mere
descriptions of voyages, which were sketched quite in the Captain's
lively manner, sparkling with fun and humour; only just at the end were
personal affairs touched upon.
"I have employed my stay in S----" wrote Hugo, "to pay a visit to
Jonas, who has been settled here over a year with his Annunziata. You
have fitted out the little one so richly, that they have made quite a
pretty hotel out of the modest inn they intended to set up, and are
going on very well indeed. The young woman has learned German at last,
and is altogether a very charming hostess, but Jonas I have had to take
regularly to task; it really is appalling how that tiny creature,
Annunziata, governs this bear of a sailor, according to all the rules
of art. I have spoken seriously to him; reminded him of his manly
dignity, prophesied that he will come hopelessly under petticoat
government, if it continue thus--what did the wretch answer me? 'Yes,
Herr Captain, but one is so inhumanly happy with it!' So of course
nothing remained but to leave him to his inhuman happiness and
petticoat _regime_.
"One more piece of news I have for you, Ella. Yesterday, by chance, I
took up an Italian newspaper in which I met with the announcement that
a union between the houses of Tortoni and Orvieto was impending.
Marchese Cesario will shortly be married to the only daughter of the
Princess. You see that even an idealist does not die of an unhappy love
now-a-days; instead, he consoles himself after a year or more with a
young and probably beautiful woman of princely blood. Only the
thoughtless one, the adventurer, cannot recover from having looked too
deeply into a pair of blue eyes. I cannot come, Reinhold, not yet! You
know the word which I passed to your wife; it still banishes me from
your threshold. Heaven knows how long I must wander about on the sea
without seeing you again; but if the recollections do not still weigh
my heart down as at the beginning, yet they will not leave me. My
'Ellida,' lies in the harbour ready to sail once more, and to-morrow
she will fly out afar again with her captain. So farewell, Reinhold!
Kiss your boy in my name! To Ella I shall surely dare send a greeting,
as you will give it to her? Perhaps we shall see each other again."
Ella folded the letter up and put it down silently--
"I hoped still that he would return to us this time, at least," said
she at last--her voice sounded sad.
"I did not expect it," replied Reinhold gravely, "as I know Hugo. Much
in his character seems to glide off lightly and without traces, and
perhaps really glides off, but once he has grasped anything with his
whole soul, then he will not let it go for all his life. He preserves
his love more truly and better than--I did."
"Did you love me then, when I was entrusted to you?" asked Ella, with
gentle reproach. "Could you love the woman who did not understand you
nor herself in those days? We had to be separated first in order to
recover one another entirely and completely, and nothing would remind
me of our separation if I did not see that shadow on your brow, ever
and again, which reawakens the one recollection."
Reinhold passed his hand over his forehead--
"You mean Beatrice's death? I know, indeed, that she prepared her fate
with her own hand, and yet I cannot always silence the voice which
accuses me of complicity in the sin of forsaking her, of driving her to
despair, to madness; she wished to strike us a crushing blow, and
struck herself."
"And from the waves, which gave her her death, you rescued for me and
yourself the highest, our child and our love," said his wife softly.
"See, there comes our Reinhold. Will you show the child this heavily
clouded brow?"
Little Reinhold put his head in at the door, and when he saw his
parents in the room sprang completely inside, so rosy and fresh, so
full of life and fun, that the father's gloom and the mother's
seriousness could not resist his coaxing and romping. Ella kissed her
boy's forehead tenderly, while Reinhold drew her and the child to
himself. They had held him very indissolubly, these fetters, which
once, in youthful infatuation, he had burst and broken, until he learnt
to feel yonder in the life so ardently longed for, amidst all the
dreamed-of treasures, that he had left the best at home; until the
longing for the past awoke, and forced its way powerfully and
irresistibly; until he could obtain once more, fighting through sin and
the horrors of death, that which he himself had thrust from him--his
wife and child; and in the gaze with which he now looked down upon both
there stood written plainly and clearly the confession which his lips
did not speak--that the happiness, so long and restlessly sought for,
and ever denied him, was found again here at last.
THE END.