GOOD ADVICE.
"Bertha will arrive to-morrow," said Herr von Osternau, looking up from
the letter which he had just received by the evening mail.
Egon alone of all the little circle had had no letter, and he had
therefore been looking over the paper, which he now dropped in dismay.
Two weeks previously he had taken Herr von Osternau's letter to
Breslau, and for a few days afterwards he had thought with a kind of
dread of the threatened visit from Fraeulein von Massenburg, but as the
invitation remained unanswered, and as there was no mention made by any
of the family of Bertha, he had forgotten that the peaceful life at
Castle Osternau might be disturbed by the intrusion of a foreign
element. His dismay was shared by Frau von Osternau and Lieschen, as
was evident from their faces as they looked up from their letters.
"Indeed!" said Frau von Osternau. "I hoped that Bertha would refuse our
invitation, since she has left it so long unanswered. Has she written
herself?"
"No; Sastrow tells me that she is to leave Berlin early to-morrow
morning, and so she will be here towards evening. You can read his
letter, or I will read it to you. Albrecht and Herr Pigglewitch heard
his first, and this is simply a conclusion of it." And the old Herr
began:
"My Dear Fritz,--Forgive me for delaying my thanks for your prompt
response to my request. You must have daily expected my reply, but I
could not before inform you exactly when Bertha would go to you. Almost
immediately after the arrival of your letter Werner von Massenburg came
to me in a state of great perturbation, to tell me that Egon von Ernau
had probably not killed himself, but was knocking about in the
mountains somewhere. One of his intimate acquaintances had seen him in
Breslau two or three days after his disappearance. Werner had himself
seen this acquaintance, a certain Baron von Freistetten, and had heard
the tidings from his own lips. The Baron assured him that as he was
driving to the railway-station in Breslau he had seen Ernau on the
sidewalk, walking very quickly. The Baron was in a hurry to catch his
train, and so had not accosted his friend, but he knew him well enough
to be sure that it was he. He nodded to him from the carriage, but
Ernau was looking at some books in a bookseller's window, and did not
perceive him. If he had known that Ernau was reported dead, the Baron
would certainly, even at the risk of losing his train, have stopped and
identified the missing man; but he had been absent from the capital for
some time, and knew nothing of the gossip current there. However, he is
ready to take his oath that the man whom he saw was no other than Egon
von Ernau.
"Werner fairly shook with agitation as he recounted this wonderful
story to my wife, to Bertha, and to me; he had just come from the
Councillor Ernau, whom he reported as quite as much agitated as himself
by Freistetten's statement. They discussed what was best to do under
the circumstances, and decided that a notice should be sent to the
newspapers contradicting the report of the suicide of young Ernau, who
had merely left Berlin upon a pleasure-trip. The Councillor was also to
engage the police to make search for his son in Breslau. They agreed
that if, as they both believed, Egon von Ernau still lived, nothing
should be changed in their former arrangements. The Councillor was
convinced that his son would not think of relinquishing his claim upon
Bertha's hand, especially after the public scandal to which his
disappearance had given rise.
"You know Werner Massenburg, and how sanguine he is; nothing that I
could say as to the possibility of a mistake on Baron Freistetten's
part had any effect upon him. His hopes were again high, and he thought
it quite natural that young Ernau, who had always followed the impulse
of the moment, should have chosen this time for a short absence from
Berlin. According to the unanimous verdict of his companions, the young
man was ready to commit any folly, and to carry out, regardless of the
feelings of others, any project that might occur to him.
"Neither I nor my wife was convinced by what he said, but Bertha
listened to him with sparkling eyes, and declared that nothing should
induce her to leave Berlin until the matter of Egon's absence was fully
explained; she would write to you instantly and decline your invitation
with thanks. I dissuaded her with difficulty from doing so.
"Again, after her father had left us, I entreated her to pause and
consider. If young Ernau still lived, his want of regard for the
feelings of others had proved him entirely incapable of making a wife
happy. I painted her future linked for life with so eccentric, selfish,
and _blase_ a husband; but my words had no effect whatever upon her,
she only smiled. Her smile is wonderfully lovely, but it did not then
seem lovely to me, it made me shudder.
"She had, she declared with calm decision, no anxiety for the future if
she could but attain her desire of becoming young Ernau's wife. If the
young man did really, as was by no means certain, feel a certain
antipathy for her, which had been the cause of his temporary flight, it
should be her task to cure him of his dislike. Without vanity, she was
conscious of possessing enough beauty to inflame the heart of any man
susceptible to a woman's charms, if she so desired to do. Therefore she
must stay in Berlin. So brilliant a match must not be resigned without
a struggle. Herr von Ernau's reputed eccentricities mattered nothing to
her; he was immensely rich, a gentleman, and born and bred in the best
society; these advantages outweighed all else. She laid no claim to
idyllic bliss in marriage, she was perfectly indifferent as to whether
she could love or even esteem her future husband, if he could but
satisfy her requirements in the life she wished to lead, and if, above
all, he could deliver her father from his pecuniary embarrassments.
"My good wife listened with positive horror to these declarations, and
I was indignant. I cannot tell you how unlovely, with all her beauty,
Bertha seemed to us; and we have not recovered from the effects of this
impression. The girl has taken the greatest pains to please us since
then, and has been charming and bewitching, but in vain. I cannot but
think, whenever I look at her, of her sordid views of life, and I do
not trust her cordiality; it comes from calculation. She wants to stay
with us in Berlin, and therefore she flatters and caresses my wife and
myself and anticipates all our wishes.
"Werner supposed that the notice sent to the papers would put a stop to
all scandalous gossip, but such has not been the case. You can have no
idea of the annoyance to which we have been subjected; my wife actually
talks of retiring from society.
"Under these circumstances Bertha must not remain with us any longer at
present. I explained this to her to-day and told her that she really
must leave for Castle Osternau to-morrow morning. Her eyes flashed as I
spoke, and she was evidently tempted to make an angry retort, but she
possesses immense self-control: she thanked me most amiably for
allowing her to stay with us until now in spite of the annoyance she
had caused us. She declared herself quite ready to start for Castle
Osternau to-morrow, but at the same time begged that she might return
to us if Egon von Ernau ever made his reappearance in the capital. This
request was preferred so bewitchingly that I could not but accede to
it.
"So Bertha will arrive at Castle Osternau towards evening to-morrow. I
know, my dear Fritz, how much I ask of your wife and yourself when I
beg you to keep her with you for some time, but I cannot help hoping
that this visit may turn out well. Bertha can be extremely delightful
if she chooses to be so, and I am sure she will so choose in this case.
Farewell. I send a thousand affectionate messages to your wife from her
grateful old uncle,
"Sastrow."
"A charming prospect!" said Frau von Osternau when her husband had
finished. "If our good-natured uncle Sastrow is so indignant with
Bertha von Massenburg, she must have behaved badly. Can you ask me--can
you ask Lieschen, Fritz, to make her welcome here for months?"
"You look only on the dark side, Emma. Sastrow says expressly that she
can be enchantingly amiable if she chooses."
"Any one who is amiable only when she chooses is not amiable at all,"
his wife replied. "Indeed, Bertha von Massenburg does not seem to me a
fit companion for Lieschen. I am afraid we have been somewhat hasty
about this invitation."
"It has been given and accepted, Emma. Bertha is coming to-morrow, and
hospitality demands that she be kindly received. Neither you nor
Lieschen, I hope, Emma, will forget that."
"Must I play the hypocrite, papa? How can I receive Bertha kindly when
I am indignant at her conduct? I think it detestable in her to insist
upon marrying that miserable Egon von Ernau when she knows that he does
not like her and that he is a worthless man. I cannot tell you, papa,
how odious Bertha's greed for wealth seems to me, and you tell me to
receive her kindly. I cannot pretend to what I do not feel."
"I do not ask you, dear, to lavish affection upon her or to adopt her
as your confidential friend, but to treat her as a relative of the
family who has come to live with us for a while. You are no longer a
child, Lieschen, and you must learn to fulfil the conventional
requirements of society. I never desire you to play the hypocrite, and
a courteous silence as to what we are thinking at the moment is not
hypocrisy. You must accustom yourself, my dear, not to wear your heart
upon your sleeve, and to bridle your tongue."
Lieschen was unaccustomed to so serious an admonition from her father,
and she replied, meekly, "I will try, papa," while her mother did not
look up from her work, but knitted faster than ever.
All were a little put out of tune by the news of Bertha's arrival, with
the exception of the Lieutenant; he expressed the hope that the
beautiful Fraeulein von Massenburg would put fresh life into the old
castle. He took Bertha's part; he could not see how she was to be
blamed for wishing to be wealthy for her father's sake. Certainly
Lieschen least of all ought to find fault with her frank expression of
her sentiments as to wealth. As in royal families, so also in the
higher aristocratic circles, marriages were contracted without the
sentimental affection talked of in novels; Bertha was only conforming
to the laws of good society if she overlooked Egon von Ernau's trifling
defects and showed herself ready for a union which would relieve her
father from pecuniary embarrassment. Even judging from Herr von
Sastrow's prejudiced description, young Ernau was a talented man of
unstained honour, and it would be inexcusable folly in Bertha not to
overlook any little faults in one so richly endowed.
Although the Lieutenant delivered himself thus with a degree of
enthusiasm, no voice was raised in sympathy with him; Frau von Osternau
maintained an obstinate silence, seeming to be absorbed in her
knitting, Lieschen frankly declared that she could not understand a
nature so coldly calculating, and thought it detestable, and all that
Herr von Osternau said was that he could not judge Bertha until he had
seen her, and that, whatever she might be, no member of his family was
justified in showing her anything save kindness; it would be best for
the present to drop all discussion of her, and he therefore begged Herr
Pigglewitch to go to the piano and soothe their troubled minds.
Egon complied, but he himself was so filled with all kinds of
conflicting thoughts and emotions that his heart was not in his music,
and he soon arose from the instrument. It was impossible to resume the
customary happy evening talk, all were absent and uncomfortable in
mind, and the circle broke up at an unusually early hour.
On the following day both Lieschen and her mother were depressed in
spirits. They scarcely spoke during dinner, and but for the talk
between the master of the house and his inspectors there would have
been absolute silence.
When the time came for the afternoon ride Fritzchen was about to rush
off to order the horses, but Lieschen detained him.
"Let us take a little walk to-day, Herr Pigglewitch," she said. "My
father wishes me to arrange some flowers in Bertha von Massenburg's
room, so I cannot be away from home long, and yet I have a great deal
to say to you. I do not want to ride to-day, we can talk so much more
easily on foot."
"Oh, Lieschen, it is delightful to gallop across the fields, and you
always talk all the time to Herr Pigglewitch," Fritz cried out, with a
discontented air, but Egon pacified him by promising to ride with him
after their walk, and the little fellow ran on before the pair who
sauntered slowly out into the fields.
In the narrow path along which they strolled Lieschen walked close by
Egon's side. She had said that she had much to say to him, but she
seemed unable to begin, and even when Egon asked the name of a distant
hamlet she gave a brief, hasty reply, and then walked on with downcast
eyes, until her companion, eager to put an end to the uncomfortable
silence, asked, directly, "What have you to say to me, Fraeulein
Lieschen?"
She looked up at him.
"You are right to remind me; it is folly to delay asking your advice,
since I have made up my mind to do so. I do not often need advice, my
own feeling tells me what I ought to do, and I follow its promptings,
but to-day it leaves me in the lurch, I am doubtful whether I feel and
judge rightly, wherefore I want to ask your advice, only you must
promise me, Herr Pigglewitch, to tell me your opinion frankly, even at
the risk of offending me."
"I promise you."
"It really is strange for me to turn to you for advice. When you came
to us two weeks ago, I had no confidence in you, you talked so oddly,
and ridiculed what I held sacred,--I was almost afraid of you. I
thought you could not be a good man. Do you remember I told you so the
first day you came?"
"I have forgotten none of your words."
"I was wrong. You have been very different since. When I see you now
and hear you talk I can hardly believe you are the same man who talked
so frivolously about self-destruction. You looked strangely and your
laugh was so bitter that it hurt me, but now you laugh from your heart,
and you look so kind and sincere that I cannot help having faith in
you. I beg your pardon for what I said. You certainly are a good man,
or Fritzchen would not be so fond of you. None but good men win the
affection of children."
Egon's heart beat as he listened to her simple words. She was right;
fourteen days had made another man of him. Formerly such praise from
girlish lips would have excited his ridicule, now it delighted him. "I
hope your opinion of to-day may prove as correct as was your former
one," he said. "I am trying, at all events, to improve."
Lieschen looked up at him gratefully. "Yes, you shall advise me. To
whom should I turn when I am at odds with myself? To my parents? Oh, I
know how ready they are to help me, but upon this point they do not
agree. To Albrecht? Never. He is not good. I never could trust him. But
you wish me well,--I know you do,--and you will be frank with me."
Egon did not speak, but his eyes were more eloquent than words.
"You shall hear how I am at odds with myself," Lieschen went on. "It is
about Bertha von Massenburg. My father wishes me to receive her
affectionately, to let no word or look betray how indignant I am with
her, with her sordid views, her odious conduct. My dear father is so
gentle and kind, he cannot bear to think ill of any one. He does not
believe in Bertha's low motives. It is easy for him to receive her
kindly, but in me it would be hypocrisy. Must I be a hypocrite? Should
not truth be our first consideration? Ought I to be false to myself out
of conformity with conventional ideas of courtesy? Nothing makes me so
indignant as falsehood, and now I am asked to act a falsehood myself.
My mother thinks as I do, but she submits. In whatever my father
seriously desires she always obeys him. He yields to her in all small
matters, but when he has formed an opinion upon any important question
my mother always conforms to it. I know that she is as indignant as I
am about Bertha von Massenburg, but she never will allow it to be seen;
my father's wish is her law, and it has always been mine, but now I am
sure he is mistaken. Advise me what to do. What would you do if you
were in my place?"
Egon's gaze was bent upon the ground. He did not dare to look into the
clear eyes that were questioning his face. 'Nothing makes me so
indignant as falsehood,' the girl had just said, and her words yet
sounded in his ears. Was not his whole life at Castle Osternau a
falsehood? She did not dream of the sentence she had passed upon him.
She hated falsehood, and asked advice of him! He commanded his voice
with difficulty, and, without lifting his eyes, said, "You wish to know
what I should do? I cannot tell you. I do not know. It has always been
my misfortune to yield to the impulse of the moment. How can I tell
what that impulse might be?"
"Is that all you have to say? You have no advice to give me?"
"What ought I to say? Can I advise you to disobey your father? Should I
be tempted to do so I might perhaps sin grievously, not only against
Herr von Osternau, good and kind as he is, but against Fraeulein von
Massenburg. It is easy to pronounce a harsh judgment upon those who
have not acted rightly according to our convictions, but what do we
really know of their springs of action? How do you know that it has not
cost Fraeulein von Massenburg a bitter struggle to insist upon her union
with Herr von Ernau, whom you call a miserable fellow, judging him no
less harshly than you judge her? Do you know him at all except from the
description of a man who is not acquainted with him? And if he is, as
Herr von Sastrow says, at odds with life, do you know what has made him
so? I can imagine a wretched man satiated from earliest childhood with
every pleasure that money can procure, with no wish ungratified save
that for affection, never having known the love of either father or
mother, miserably lonely, surrounded by flatterers and parasites who
feign friendship for the sake of his riches, but who care nothing for
him in reality. Is it his fault if he has become disgusted with
his fellow-men, if he is vain, _blase_, dictatorial, destitute of
self-control? How do you know that deep in the soul of the man whom you
have condemned there do not slumber the sparks of nobler and truer
sentiments, beneath the ashes of the ruin wrought by his ill-spent
life? It needs but a breath, perhaps, to make this spark a flame, a
breath of self-inspection or a breath of affection, and yet you condemn
him. If he should judge himself as you judge him, the spark would
surely die beneath the ashes, and he would be lost without hope of
rescue."
Lieschen stared at the speaker in wonder. "How strangely you speak,"
she said, "exactly as if you knew Herr von Ernau! And how agitated you
have become! you have grown quite pale. Oh, you must know Herr von
Ernau, or you would not thus defend him."
"I did not mean to defend him," Egon replied, in some confusion. "He
may not deserve any defence. I only wished to point out to you the
harshness of your judgment both of him and of Fraeulein von Massenburg,
and to show you that your knowledge of them is insufficient to allow of
your forming such a judgment."
"That means that you advise me not to receive Bertha Massenburg coldly,
but to suppress my dislike for her and comply with my father's wishes?"
"I am not worthy to advise you to do anything save to act according to
the dictates of your own heart."
Lieschen shook her head. "You are a very strange person, Herr
Pigglewitch," she said, with a smile. "You do not wish to advise me,
and yet you have given me advice which I shall follow. You have shown
me clearly that I was wrong in condemning Herr von Ernau and Bertha,
and that my dear father was right in asking me to receive Bertha
kindly. I am glad I came to you for counsel. I shall think of what you
said about Herr von Ernau, and I should like to hear more of him from
you, for I am sure you know him; but I cannot now, for it is time to
return to the castle."