THE HARVEST-FIELD.
As Egon rode by Lieschen's side along the road leading through the
fields to the Oster meadows he was more light of heart than he could
remember ever being before. She pointed out to him the various villages
and farms in the neighbourhood of the castle, and his eyes, it is true,
followed the direction of her extended riding-whip, but his attention
was not given to the rather commonplace landscape; his interest was all
for his charming companion. How pure and clear was the look in the
dark-blue eyes raised so confidingly to his own! Her smile was frank
and free, as she made no attempt to conceal her admiration of his
courage and strength in subduing Soliman. She told him how delighted
she was with his success, and how her heart had seemed fairly to stand
still with terror when she saw him in such peril and by her fault.
Her _naive_ frankness, her open avowal of whatever filled her mind,
enchanted Egon. He seemed to have entered a new world. The compliments
and admiration which he had received from other girls as to his music,
his singing, or some other of his accomplishments had always aroused
the suspicion in his mind that such words were for the wealthy Egon von
Ernau, uttered to flatter his vanity, to entrap him. But as he listened
to Lieschen's artless talk he paid homage to the sincerity of this
girlish nature, and was refreshed and cheered even by her words of
reproof. His sensations were a surprise to himself: he thought he was
indifferent alike to praise and blame, but here he was positively
exulting in the admiration of a mere child.
"There are the Oster meadows!" Fritz called out from the summit of a
low hill, which he had gained in advance of his companions.
Egon sighed; they had nearly reached the goal of their ride, and he
would gladly have ridden thus through the lovely fields for hours.
"Is not the prospect from here charming?" Lieschen asked, when she with
Egon had reached the eminence.
He had to answer her, and that he might do so he looked around him,
although he would far rather have continued to gaze into his
companion's lovely face. As if awaking from a dream, he saw before him
a picturesque landscape,--a green extensive valley, through which wound
the Oster, a small river, which, making its way among low, distant
hills, was lost in the mighty chain of the Riesengebirge.
The rich meadows that bordered the Oster on either side presented an
animated scene. On one hand the mowers were wielding their scythes, on
another women, girls, and children were turning the hay with long
rakes, while from some of the fields the piled hay-wagons, each drawn
by four stout horses, were beginning their slow journey to the barns of
Castle Osternau. All who were able to work were busy gathering in the
plentiful hay-crop of the year, for there had been warning clouds in
the west at sunset for two or three days, although hitherto they had
fled before the dawn. They were massing now about the descending sun.
The harvesters would occasionally cast an anxious glance towards the
west, and then proceed with their labour with renewed zeal.
"Is not the prospect from here charming?" Lieschen had asked, and Egon
replied, "Most charming!" giving utterance to his sincere conviction.
At the moment the broad, smiling valley, with the silver river winding
through it, seemed to him inexpressibly attractive; but the words had
scarcely left his lips before he was aware that they were at variance
with all his previous ideas and sentiments. He had never found anything
to admire in peaceful, smiling valleys, they had always impressed him
as the ideal of tedious, commonplace rusticity; he had turned for
enjoyment to the wild grandeur of rocky mountain fastnesses, to the
splendour of glacier and torrent. The more savage the aspect of nature
the more beautiful it had seemed to him. When he had been caught in a
mountain storm, the crashing of the thunder among the giant peaks and
the vivid play of the lightning had quickened his pulses. What could
make this simple landscape at which he was gazing with Lieschen seem so
charming in his eyes? Had he undergone a transformation in the last few
hours? Could it be that a warm, sunny ray from heaven had pierced his
soul and made it sensitive to the charm of a simple scene from which he
would but yesterday have turned in weary disgust? He had a sense of
disgrace in the consciousness that he was so hopelessly given over to
the influence of the moment. Yes, he was ashamed of thus belying all
his former tastes just because----yes, because a pair of sparkling,
girlish eyes were beholding with rapture the petty, commonplace scene
before them,--yes, it suddenly grew to be commonplace and petty, the
charm that had transfigured it was broken, the ray that had penetrated
his soul was extinguished.
A horseman came galloping up the hill from the meadow. It was Herr
Storting; he waved a greeting to Lieschen as he drew near, but as he
drew up his horse beside Egon he exclaimed, in surprise, "Can it be
possible, Herr Pigglewitch, that you are riding Soliman?"
"As you see," Egon replied, curtly, his good humour all gone.
"I see, but I do not understand. Why, even the Lieutenant does not
venture to take that horse any distance from the castle, he only rides
it in the fields just beyond the garden. Pardon my saying so, Fraeulein
Lieschen, but you have been wrong in exposing Herr Pigglewitch to a
danger the extent of which he cannot understand, since he does not know
Soliman's tricks and temper."
Before Lieschen could reply, Egon interposed, "Your reproof is
administered to the wrong person, Herr Storting. I insisted on riding
Soliman precisely because of his tricks and his temper. And now we know
each other, Soliman and I, and he is afraid of me, not I of him. You
need have no anxiety on my account."
Egon's words by no means satisfied Storting. "You must be a capital
rider to have kept your seat upon Soliman until now, but the danger
will not be over until the horse is back in his stall. I beg you to
return at once, and at all events do not attempt to ride him down into
the meadows. The brute shies terribly, when people are about he grows
restless, and the least sudden movement, the lifting of a rake, the
flutter of one of the women's white kerchiefs, or the merest trifle,
will suffice to make him mad with terror. At such times no rider can
control him or keep his seat."
But Egon only smiled. "Are you really so unruly, my poor Soliman?" he
said, leaning forward and patting the beautiful creature's slender
neck. "I could wish you would try your worst, that I might have the
opportunity to convince you of a will stronger than your own."
"Foolhardy words," Storting said, sternly. "Again let me beg you to
turn back. If you ride down to the meadows you run the risk of having
Soliman plunge with you into the Oster. Such a ride would be suicidal."
"Your ugly word does not terrify me," Egon said. "I surely have a right
over my own body, my own life. I need take counsel with none, if I
choose to end the drama with a bullet in my heart or a wild ride. Come,
Soliman, let us measure our strength together, and if you come off
conqueror I shall not care; let the waters of the Oster do their
worst."
A smart stroke of his riding-whip accompanied his last words. It had a
fearful effect upon the fiery animal, who had scarcely yet been brought
under his rider's perfect control. Soliman put back his ears and tore
down the hill to the Oster meadows.
"My God! what madness!" Storting exclaimed, horror-struck. The colour
faded from his sunburned cheek as he gazed after the rider, who was
being carried directly towards the spot where the river was deepest and
the current strongest. To the inspector the man's fate was sealed. How
could the Candidate have dreamed of riding Soliman? It was a miracle
that the fellow still kept his seat.
He not only kept his seat, but on the very brink of the river, when
Storting was convinced that his doom was certain, the horse was pulled
up on his haunches, his rider had mastered him. Storting could hardly
believe his eyes. Was that wonderful rider sitting easily and as if
unconscious of danger upon the fiery brute, now stamping the soft
meadow soil with impatient hoofs, but held in rein by a hand of iron,
the same ridiculous, awkward tutor whom he, Storting, had transformed
to the likeness of humanity with a suit of his own clothes?
Lieschen too had been terrified for a moment, when Egon had driven
Soliman wild by the stroke of his whip, but she did not share in
Storting's forebodings; she had seen Soliman obey Egon's strength and
skill, and she had entire confidence in them. Still there was a cloud
upon her brow, and the gaze with which she followed the daring rider
was scarcely one of approval. When she saw that the horse was stayed at
the river's brink, she simply said, "Let us follow," and without
another word rode quietly down into the meadows after Fritz, who had
started off to overtake his admired tutor.
Egon awaited their approach. The swift gallop, the struggle with the
furious horse, which again called into play all his force and skill,
had quickly dispelled his sudden ill humour. He called out to Storting,
"You see, Herr Storting, there really is no danger in my riding
Soliman. The horse is far better than his reputation. He needs only to
be kept firmly in rein, and then he obeys every pressure of the knee.
The magnificent creature knows me now, and I will answer for it will
not shy or run so long as he feels my hand upon his bridle. You see
that your reproof was quite undeserved by Fraeulein Lieschen. If the
horse is really timid I will engage to cure him of it. Shall we not
ride towards those people who are working so busily over there?
Fraeulein von Osternau has promised to be my teacher, and to instruct me
in some of the elementary principles of agriculture, and I am eager to
prove myself a docile, intelligent pupil. Make friends with me again,
Herr Storting, you will not remain provoked with me for answering your
kindly warning by a furious run of a moment or two?"
He held out his hand as he spoke to the inspector, who could not any
longer maintain a show of irritation, although he was not quite
satisfied, nor was Lieschen. Storting, however, took pains to conceal
the remnant of his displeasure, and succeeded in doing so, but Lieschen
made no attempt to hide the fact that she was seriously displeased with
Herr Pigglewitch. She took her place again, it is true, beside him, but
she answered his questions in monosyllables, and left it to Storting to
give him any information with regard to the harvesting. His desire to
receive the promised instruction from her was evident as they rode
around the meadows, but when he turned to her with an inquiry she only
replied, "Herr Storting will explain it to you." She could not be easy
and friendly with him, for the last words he had spoken on the hill
still resounded in her ears, and they had shocked her profoundly.
Lieschen's taciturnity had its effect upon Egon's recovered gayety; he
ceased to ask questions, and scarcely bestowed a glance upon the
harvesters. He forced himself to listen with an appearance of interest
to Herr Storting's explanations, out of regard for the inspector, but
the merry songs of the girls raking the hay struck harshly on his ears,
he was tired of it all, and he was relieved when at the end of half an
hour Lieschen announced that it was time to return home.
Herr Storting could not yet leave the harvest-field, Fritz galloped
ahead to the castle, and thus Egon being left alone with Lieschen had
an opportunity to ask her the cause of her sudden reserve; was she
displeased, and why? he had not, he thought, given her cause to be so.
She looked gravely up at him, and said in surprise,--
"Do you not know why I am displeased? Have you no suspicion of how your
wicked words shocked me? Yes, I am displeased. I cannot forgive you for
sneering at what is most sacred. I told you so before today. You are
not a good man, Herr Pigglewitch. You almost frighten me."
"What have I done or said to provoke such a reproof from you?" Egon
asked, in dismay.
"You do not know? So much the worse. You do not even admit that what
you said was wicked. Do you not remember what you said here upon the
hill, yes, upon this very spot, just before you gave Soliman that
stroke with your whip? You said you should not care if Soliman drowned
you! yes, you declared that you had a right to take your own life!"
"And was that what displeased you? Have I not the right to end my
miserable existence if it becomes too heavy a burden to be borne?"
"No, you have no right to do so, and it is a sin even to think of it!"
Lieschen replied, her beautiful eyes lifted to Egon's in stern
reproach. "Your words shocked me deeply. Is there any courage in
putting an end by the act of an instant to an intolerable existence? It
is cowardice, miserable cowardice, to turn and flee from the battle of
life. I have heard pity bestowed upon those wretched men who in despair
have taken their own lives; for my part I cannot help despising them,
and I cannot understand how a man can find a word to say in defence of
such cowardice."
What Lieschen said was neither novel nor clever, and yet her simple
words made a deep impression upon Egon. He had lately read a learned
essay upon the right of self-destruction, in which every conceivable
argument was brought forward to prove that nothing save insanity could
excuse the act, but the sapient disquisition had only provoked a smile
as he read, while these few simple words of the young girl's staggered
him in the views he had hitherto held. Involuntarily the image of the
real Pigglewitch arose in his mind, he saw the ridiculous figure
kneeling singing upon the green bank, then suddenly start up and leap
into the water. He saw the wretched creature standing dripping before
him, wringing his hands and entreating to have his miserable life ended
for him, he was afraid to do it himself. Did it really require more
courage to endure a sad existence than to end it with a pistol-bullet?
Was it cowardice to flee from a blank, weary world? Lieschen felt
contempt, not compassion, for a suicide. She did not know how her words
fitted Egon's case. He could not look into her clear eyes, he was
forced to cast down his own.
It was Egon's nature to be easily swayed by the impulse of the moment;
thus it was with him now, as he said, after a short pause,--
"You judge harshly, very harshly, but perhaps justly. You can have no
idea of how nearly your words touch me. I promise to reflect upon what
you have said, and now I beg you not to be angry with me any longer. I
cannot bear to have you look so gravely and disapprovingly at me. I
will try never to shock you again by thoughtless words which may seem
to you like a sneer at sacred things, but I beg you to have patience
with me. You promised to be my teacher, and a teacher ought not to be
impatient."
"Now you are making game of me again."
"No, I declare to you I am not jesting. What I said half in jest to you
at dinner I now repeat in earnest. I am conscious to-day for the first
time that the experience of my life has made me morbid. Regard me as a
sick man, and when some word of mine shocks you, do not be angry, but
tell me of it frankly, without reserve. Blame me, take me to task, and
I shall be your debtor."
Lieschen looked at him rather dubiously. "I do not know what to think
of you, Herr Pigglewitch," she replied, shaking her pretty head
thoughtfully. "You change with every moment. When a little while ago
you talked so wickedly and urged Soliman towards the river, I was
afraid of you, and now you suddenly speak so sadly and gently that I
almost have faith in you. But since you only ask that I should tell you
what I think, without reserve, I can easily grant your request, I
should do so whether or not, because I cannot help it."