A MISCHIEVOUS COQUETTE.
The morning after Storting's departure, Egon received a visit from the
vivacious little Ostrowko doctor, who declared that he could not be
responsible for the consequences if his patient persisted in neglecting
his instructions. "I distinctly told you, my dear Herr von Ernau, that
rest was all that you required, that rest you must have, and what has
been your course? Instead of remaining where you certainly were very
well off, and with a charming _chatelaine_ to attend to your every
wish, you jolt off over here, along an infernal road, a few hours
after I leave you, and, I make no doubt, purpose to inspect your estate
to-day. Not at all, not at all, my dear Herr von Ernau. You have had a
shock to your system. Great as was your escape, 'tis no joke falling
from the Dombrowker Pass, and you must be quiet. You've a fine library
here, and a magnificent grand piano: sit still, read some trashy
romance, and play Offenbach for the next week, and leave your estate in
the hands of your admirable inspector,--Storting is his name? What! he
has gone to Berlin for a time? Well, the younger fellow--I forget his
name--is quite competent, with old Sieveking to direct. I am going to
see that, now we have got you here at Plagnitz, we keep you from any
ill effects of your accident, or you'll be saying that the climate does
not agree with you, and you'll be running off to Berlin. Aha! I know
you young fellows. I was young myself not a hundred years ago."
And he rattled on, until he had indeed fully convinced his patient that
rest was an admirable remedy for many ailments.
Egon was doomed, then, to a time of inaction, and this just when he was
most eager to enter upon the supervision of his affairs. Still, there
might be much to interest him in these first days at home, and he
resigned himself with the best grace that he could to refrain from
riding, driving, or any long walks for a while, according to the
doctor's orders.
The degree of order and method which prevailed everywhere at Plagnitz
delighted him, and no less was he pleased, when he sauntered through
the fields in the immediate vicinity of the manor-house, with the
kindly courtesy of those of his people whom he met, and who greeted the
master without a trace of that slavish servility so frequently
to be found in the Polish-German provinces, and so odious to Egon.
Day-labourers and grooms took off their hats to him, but did not, half
kneeling, offer to kiss his hand, as is the invariable custom
elsewhere; nor were they at all embarrassed in the intelligent replies
which they made to his inquiries concerning their various occupations.
To the master's great satisfaction, he perceived that there pervaded
Plagnitz an air of freshness and freedom beyond what was enjoyed upon
most other large estates of the province; the people were treated like
human beings, not like slaves, and, in consequence, manifested an
interest and vivacity almost unknown to the ordinary imbruted Polish
labourer. Here old Sieveking's influence had been admirable, and all
that Egon had thought lacking upon his previous visit to Plagnitz had
been largely supplied by Storting's diligence and experience.
A young man presented himself as the bailiff, Hensel, and modestly
asked permission to show Herr von Ernau through the farm-buildings and
to give him any desired information concerning them. When Egon accepted
his offer, he showed himself so intelligent and well informed in all
matters pertaining to his special province, that the master of Plagnitz
was even more than ever impressed with the faithful care taken of his
estate during his absence by old Sieveking, who, although he could not
entirely fulfil the requirements of a disciple of the modern school of
agriculture, had yet prepared an excellent foundation for the new
methods which Egon hoped to introduce with Storting's assistance.
Even the slight inspection which he thus made, on the first day of his
residence in his home, was condemned by the little doctor on his next
visit. He declared that for a week at least nothing in the way of
out-of-door exercise must be attempted. "As much fresh air as you
please, my dear Herr von Ernau, but taken by an open window, or seated
on your terrace, whence the prospect should surely content you for a
while."
This enforced repose was particularly irritating to Egon just at the
present time. The delicious weather lured him into the open air; he was
feverishly desirous of beginning the work for which he had been
preparing for four long years, and to sit quietly gazing abroad over
his fields and meadows, at the groups of labourers, among whom he
longed to be, was almost intolerable.
If Storting had only been at home he could have conversed with him. But
he was entirely alone; old Sieveking was too ill and feeble to be
disturbed, and young Hensel, although excellent in his way, was
entirely unavailable for purposes of conversation that did not bear
upon his vocation.
His only consolation during these wearisome days was the fine grand
piano which he had had sent to Plagnitz from Berlin. During his years
of study he had rather neglected his music, and he now found in it all
the delight it had formerly given him. His feverish restlessness was
soothed by giving it musical expression; as of old, he was able to
forget himself in the world of harmony.
He was seated thus at his instrument, on the fourth afternoon after his
arrival at Plagnitz; the last chords of a wild rhapsody had just died
away, and his fingers were wandering over the keys in a dreamy
fantasia, half memory, half hope. Lost in his fancies, he did not hear
a footman announce an arrival, or the sound of footsteps in the room
behind him. He suddenly seemed aware of a soft sigh near him; he turned
hastily and gazed into a pair of dark eyes. At first he saw Bertha
only; but she was not alone, behind her stood Wangen and Clara.
"If the mountain will not come to us, we must come to the mountain,"
Wangen said, with a laugh, holding out his hand. "You must not think us
too eager to thrust ourselves upon you, Herr von Ernau, in coming thus
soon to see how the patient is faring, since the doctor tells us that
he may receive visits, although he can pay none."
Involuntarily Egon passed his hand across his eyes, as if to banish the
vision of the moment. Yes, this was reality. Here was no Bertha von
Massenburg, but Frau von Wangen, with her husband, and the charming
child with whom he had exchanged a few words at Linau; and he was the
lord of Plagnitz, whose duty it was to welcome his guests and pray
pardon for having at first been unaware of their entrance.
Hugo von Wangen laughed in his good-humoured way. "We stood behind you
listening for a minute," he said. "I do not think anything short of an
earthquake would have aroused you when we first came in, you were so
absorbed. We ought to ask pardon for disturbing you. My wife would not
let me come alone, as I thought of doing. She was too anxious, she
said, to see how the patient was getting on."
What was there for Egon to do but to express his gratitude to madame,
and to kiss the fair hand extended to him, while declaring his pleasure
in welcoming beneath his roof both Frau and Fraeulein von Wangen?
These formalities concluded, the visitors took seats, and a very lively
talk ensued. Bertha was positively charming; she dwelt just long enough
upon her anxiety lest the drive from Linau should have proved too much
for Herr von Ernau, and was so easy and cordial that she banished all
feeling of restraint from the conversation, which soon turned to Herr
von Wangen's favourite theme, agriculture. All the party regretted
Egon's inability to act as their guide in an inspection of so famous an
estate as Plagnitz, which Wangen had never before visited. In especial
was he desirous to see a certain wonderful breed of sheep. Of course,
Egon proposed that his bailiff, Herr Hensel, should act as his guest's
cicerone in default of his own companionship, and Wangen eagerly
accepted the proposal, after consulting his wife by a glance.
Herr Hensel was summoned, and was much honoured by the office intrusted
to him. He asked whether the ladies also might not perhaps be
interested in the sheepstalls, which were constructed upon an entirely
new plan. Frau von Wangen declined to accompany her husband, but Clara
gladly arose to go with her brother and Herr Hensel: she took all a
country girl's interest in sheep and cows.
Wangen seemed a little disconcerted by this arrangement; he was in his
heart reluctant to leave his wife alone to the fascinations of her old
admirer. He could not possibly let this be known, however,--Bertha
would have laughed at his foolish jealousy. Nevertheless, he felt far
from comfortable when Bertha added her approval of Clara's intention,
saying, "Do go, my dear Clara, and take note of all the improvements,
which we may be able to introduce at Linau." He could not, without
making himself ridiculous, insist upon Clara's staying behind; she was
already hanging upon his arm, and he quietly followed Herr Hensel.
For the first time in his life Egon was alone with Bertha. Even at
Castle Osternau they had never met except in the presence of some
member of the family, and there was a vague sense in his mind of wrong
done to his ideal by this _tete-a-tete_, although he had done nothing
to bring it about; it was purely accidental. In fact, the young man's
mind had been, during the past four days, so continually filled with
thoughts of Lieschen, he had so constantly recalled her every look and
word of former years, the restlessness that possessed him had been so
largely caused by his anxiety to hear from Storting, and had been so
much more keenly felt since he was forbidden to allay it by physical
exertion or hard mental effort, that he was not as open as it was his
wont to be to the impression of the moment; it cost him some pains to
prevent his imagination from driving present realities from his mind.
Therefore, for some time after they were thus left alone, the
conversation was of a quite indifferent character; and yet how
exquisitely lovely she was as she sat opposite him, with a gentle smile
hovering upon her charming mouth! How sweet and tender was her voice
as, at last, after a pause, she leaned towards him, her eyes seeking
and holding his, and asked, softly, "Herr von Ernau, are you still
angry with me?"
Honestly, Egon did not understand why she should ever have thought him
angry, and honestly he rejoined, "Why should I be angry with you,
madame?"
She blushed slightly as she said, sadly, "Ah, yes, I see you are still
angry. You persist in dwelling upon the past, although I begged you to
forget it. Yet can we forget? I cannot practise what I would enjoin
upon you. The consciousness of the wrong I did you has robbed me of
rest since I last saw you. I long to hear you say that you forgive me.
I came to-day with Herr von Wangen, hoping for this opportunity, which
accident has given me, to entreat you not to add to all that is hard
and cruel in my lot by withholding your forgiveness for the past.
Believe me, I have suffered in listening to the dictates of prudence,
rather than to the voice of my heart."
She would have gone on, quite charmed with her own eloquence,
absolutely fancying herself thrown away upon her idolizing husband,
playing a part which had presented itself as most attractive to the
shallow imaginings of her idle hours, but that something in Egon's face
arrested the words upon her lips; she paused and waited for his reply.
In truth, while she had been speaking, Egon's thoughts had been hardly
such as it would have pleased her to divine. Yes, she was incomparably
lovely; he saw it all,--the dark, pleading glance, the wonderful grace
of every movement; but how, he was asking himself, had he ever thought
it possible to find his other self in this woman? How well he had known
her kind in days gone by! Fate had been only too good to her in
bringing her the devotion of so honest and single-hearted a man as Hugo
von Wangen. He had surrounded her life with luxury and affection, and
she had neither the heart to return his love, nor the mind to
appreciate it. How false, how shallow she was! And his memory conjured
up another face and another voice. 'There is nothing which I so detest
as false words and false seeming.' His mind wandered from the present
for an instant; but Bertha was silent, he must answer her, and, little
fitted as he felt himself to play the part of a moralist, the thought
of Wangen, so cordial in his kindness to his new neighbour, lent an
additional coolness to his words:
"I assure you, madame, that I never imagined that I had the smallest
right to feel myself in any way aggrieved by your conduct. All who know
Hugo von Wangen can well understand how happy a woman she must be upon
whom he bestows the treasure of his devotion. Let me repeat your kind
advice to me when first I met you at Linau: Forget the past; we have to
do with the present and the future."
The expression of Bertha's face as he spoke was not pleasant to see;
the pathetic lines about her mouth vanished, her eyes lost their
gentle, pleading look. The change was so sudden that it rather
disconcerted Egon, who was immensely relieved by hearing footsteps in
the corridor and by the rather hurried entrance of Clara, eager to tell
her sister-in-law of all she had lost in not joining Hugo and herself.
The girl was followed immediately by her brother, whose first glance,
always for his wife, took note of her embarrassment, and then sought
Egon's face, where also, he thought, he discerned signs of confusion.
All his jealous suspicions, vague as they were, and therefore all the
more tormenting, sprang to life. He tried his best to follow the lead
of his host and talk with interest of the Plagnitz cattle and the
various improvements in stalls and stables. It was of no use;
conversation would no longer run in easy grooves, and all were rather
glad than otherwise when the time for the departure of the guests
arrived.
When their carriage was announced, Egon would have escorted them to it,
but this Wangen would in no wise permit. The doctor had expressly told
him, he said, that Herr von Ernau must avoid all exertion for a while
and keep his room. Bertha added her words to his to prevent their
host's accompanying them down into the hall, and even Clara sagely
observed that if Herr von Ernau were not careful he never would be able
to come to Linau shortly as he had promised.
Egon went to the window to wave a farewell to his guests, when he
observed the young girl, who had taken her place on the back seat of
the barouche, suddenly spring out of it again. "I have forgotten my
parasol!" she called up to Egon.
The footman, who had been helping the visitors to get into their
carriage, would have gone back for it, but with a "Never mind, I will
get it myself," she ran into the house and up the stairs. The next
instant she stood, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, beside Egon,
and said hurriedly, in a low voice, "I left it on purpose, because I
wanted to say something to you, Herr von Ernau. The doctor, I know,
told Hugo yesterday that you could not drive to Linau before Monday,
but you must come before. You are perfectly well, promise me to come on
Saturday at the farthest,--to-day is Monday. Oh, you can easily come
before, or on, Saturday, if you drive slowly."
"Why must I promise you to come 'before, or on, Saturday,' little
Clara?"
"Oh, because I want you to come so much that I can hardly wait for the
time to pass."
"Oh, I am not vain enough to believe that."
The girl laughed merrily.
"Indeed! Well, there is somebody, at all events, who does want to see
you, I know, and I must not tell you who it is, because I promised not
to. But I did not promise not to beg you to come before Sunday. Oh, you
must, or it will be too late. Adieu, Herr von Ernau! Here is my
parasol; they are waiting for me. Remember, before Sunday!"
She hurried away, and waved her hand, flourishing her parasol, from the
carriage, as it drove out of the court-yard.
Egon stood a long while at the window, gazing after the carriage as it
disappeared. What had he just heard? Had Bertha made that innocent
child her messenger, her tool, in the idle flirtation with which she
would fain employ her empty hours? Yes, she was indeed false and
shallow; and good, kindly Wangen deserved a better fate. What had
become of the magical charm which Bertha von Massenburg's beauty had
exercised over the Egon of former days? He thought of her almost with
aversion. Nevertheless, he must return the visit that had been paid
him; kindly relations with Linau must be preserved.