Castle de Werve, April, 1861.
You see, my dear William, I have entered the fortress.
But to resume my narrative. Van Beek gave me a letter of introduction
to his friend Overberg, a lawyer in Zutphen, and I called upon this
worthy man of the law as soon as I arrived in the town. This Overberg
was the agent of my old Aunt Roselaer in these quarters, and it was
through his good management of her affairs that she gradually obtained
possession of Von Zwenken's property, as the General usually borrowed
money of Overberg. After all, the General was more fortunate than
if he had fallen into the hands of usurers, who, speculating on his
weakness, would have ruined him in a much shorter time. Overberg had
advised the General to accept the offer of his sister-in-law--with
what result you already know. For this reason he recommended me,
if I wished to obtain a kindly reception at the Castle, not to
present myself there as the heir to Miss Roselaer's property; such
an introduction being calculated to raise a prejudice against me
from the first. Therefore I decided to present myself as a relation
anxious to make the acquaintance of the family.
Seizing the opportunity, I began to question Overberg about Miss
Mordaunt.
"I have only spoken to her once," he said; "the General always comes
to see me in person. She is never seen in the town now. Once, indeed,
whilst the General was still commandant of the garrison here, she
came to consult me on a matter personal to herself, but that is a
long time ago."
The good-natured lawyer, though ignorant of my matrimonial plans,
doubtless read disappointment in my face, for he resumed, as if to
excuse the meagreness of his information--
"You see, sir, the General then lived in grand style; and a wide
distinction was also made in society between the military and the
bourgeoisie. I was a widower, my time fully occupied, and I seldom went
into society. Since my second marriage, however, we have parties and
dinners enough--and that reminds me my wife has a soiree this evening;
several young ladies who know Miss Mordaunt are invited. Will you spend
the evening with us? You can leave tomorrow early for the Werve. I will
introduce you to the company as a gentleman looking out for a villa in
our neighbourhood; for as you know, in a small town like ours, it is
necessary to give a reason for your appearance among us, otherwise one
will be invented--and such inventions are not always of a flattering
kind. I can easily give the conversation a turn so as to cause it to
fall on the family Von Zwenken, and you need only keep your ears open."
This idea took my fancy; I accepted the invitation with pleasure,
for a little society would help me to pass the evening more agreeably
than I could spend it at my hotel.
We dined quietly en famille, and Overberg and his wife--hospitable,
jovial people--seemed to me to belie the French verse--
"De petits avocats,
Qui se sont fait des sous,
En rognant des ducats."
Mr. Overberg is a shrewd, clever lawyer, who perfectly understands his
business and the way to treat his clients politely and persuasively;
he always discourages lawsuits, recommends delay and an attempt at an
arrangement, and thus quietly brings about the desired result without,
as it were, seeming to interfere. Aunt Sophia respected him highly for
his discretion and foresight, though she took care never to let him
see through her intentions, since he was not the man to take sharp
and decisive measures. For any such business she employed Van Beek,
who is a man to carry out the law to the letter, without feeling any
pity for the sufferer.
It was therefore in keeping with Overberg's character that he
recommended me to temporize with the General, to give him time to
pay his debts, and not to drive such an old man to despair, though
he was a foreigner. The good man little knew he was preaching to one
who already shared his views, and whose inmost wish was to deal as
gently as possible with Von Zwenken.
I must acknowledge that what I heard at the soiree did not make a
favourable impression on me. The past life of the young lady must
have been a singular one, if there be any truth in the gossip I heard
about her. I know much must be set down to slander in a small town,
where people are at a loss what to talk about when not criticising
their neighbours.
But, however, you must judge for yourself from what follows.
Among the ladies to whom I was introduced was a charming young
widow with jet-black eyes and lively features; she is a niece of
the Roselaers, I am told, and at first I felt very sorry her name
was not Francis Mordaunt, the niece-elect of Aunt Sophia. However,
when Overberg had drawn her out a little on the subject of the Von
Zwenkens, I felt exceedingly glad to think our acquaintance would
not extend beyond the present evening.
I began to feel a most intense hatred against her, so unmercifully
did she attack poor Francis.
"Yes, they had been well acquainted when her grandfather was commandant
of the garrison, and she herself had visited at the house of the
Colonel. But no, friendship had never existed between her and the
young lady; she was too eccentric and ill-mannered. Just imagine,
Jonker, she came to our house one evening when she knew there was to
be dancing and music. Yes, she dropped in, as nonchalant as possible,
in a dark merino dress, fastened up to the neck, with a turn-down
collar and a silk neckerchief--just for all the world like a boy. And
her boots--they might have belonged to some plough-boy. Upon my word,
I believe there were nails in the soles; a non-commissioned officer
would not have been so rude as to enter a salon in them."
"Perhaps she had made a mistake about the evening," I said, by way
of excuse.
"Certainly not! She received her invitation a week beforehand. Surely
that was time enough to get a ball-dress made. And it was not because
she hadn't got any other dresses; for two days afterwards she came
to a house where we were invited to spend a quiet evening, en grande
toilette, a low dress (as if she expected to be invited to dance),
and resplendent with jewellery and diamonds. Now I ask you if that
was not done to annoy us and to wound our feelings?"
"It seems to me she took more trouble to do honour to the ladies than
she had taken to please the gentlemen."
"The truth is, she was not at all complimentary to the gentlemen,"
rejoined a thin, elderly-looking spinster of an uncertain age, dressed
in an old-fashioned style, who I should have thought would have been
the last person to come to the defence of a sex that had so clearly
neglected her.
"And the gentlemen--no doubt they reciprocated her nonchalance?" I
asked. "It is very probable she was left in the company of the elderly
ladies all the evening to increase the number of 'wall flowers.'"
"Yes! but it was because she wished it," replied the widow. "She
would be sure of partners, though she were never such a fright. All
the young officers are, as a matter of course, obliged 'to do the
amiable' to the granddaughter of their colonel. Moreover, Francis
Mordaunt is mistress of the art of attracting or repelling as it
pleases her. Notwithstanding all her strange whims and caprices,
she is never at a loss for a partner, and the moment she enters any
ball-room she becomes the observed of all observers. The gentlemen
flock round her; she is flattered, flirted with----"
"Yes, flirted with, I grant you; but not respected, I'm sure,"
interrupted the elderly spinster. "It is chiefly done to draw out
her smart repartees, and the unladylike answers which have made her
so famous (or rather infamous)."
"In fact everybody is amused at her scathing replies."
"Which the ladies are afraid of," said a gentleman, half jestingly,
half reproachfully, "for as a rule they are as true as they are sharp."
"As a rule she makes the gentlemen the butt of her raillery."
"How strange then, indeed, that the ladies take her part so little!" I
could not help remarking.
"That is not strange, Jonker! The peculiar manner she has adopted to
render herself noticeable is just the one our sex cannot suffer. In
all her victories we saw a defeat; the good tone was lost."
"And how did the party pass off for Miss Mordaunt in that curious
dress?" I inquired, for I had less interest in carrying on a combat
d'esprit with the vicious little widow than in drawing out a more
complete sketch of Francis' character, though it might be coloured
by slander.
"Just as she wished it, I believe. In the early part of the evening
she was somewhat neglected, and this was evidently her wish, for she
did nothing to prevent it; on the contrary, she had told the hostess
that she had resolved not to dance, in such a loud and decided tone,
that it would have been absurd for any one to invite her afterwards."
"She's cunning enough," put in the elderly spinster. "She only said
that lest afterwards she should feel ashamed of herself at the close
of the party, in case no one invited her to dance."
"In fact, it requires more moral courage than the gentlemen in these
parts as a rule possess to lead out a lady dressed as she was,"
interposed the widow again.
"It appears that the custom of not sparing us gentlemen is catching,"
whispered an officer, who had been introduced as Captain Sanders.
I silently bowed, for I wished to listen to Mrs. X., who continued--
"Finally, however, when the cotillon was called, she must join, and the
unfortunate leader of the dance had to sacrifice himself. Lieutenant
Wilibald, her grandfather's adjutant, was obliged to take her in tow,
mustering up all his courage. After showing a good deal of resistance,
which appeared seriously meant, she allowed herself to be led out,
but did nothing to lighten her partner's unpleasant task. On the
contrary, she was so recalcitrant, so inattentive and so awkward,
that she often caused confusion, and her partner had the greatest
difficulty to rectify her mistakes. Indeed, the polite young officer
was pitied by the whole company, and the more so because it was known
that he was sacrificing himself to a sense of duty; for he was engaged
to a charming young lady who had been prevented from attending the
ball by a recent death in the family."
"Pardon, madame; permit me to say that your representation of the
facts is not quite correct," interrupted Captain Sanders, in whose
favour I immediately became prepossessed on account of his serious
and earnest look. "Allow me to set you right as to facts, for I am
a friend of Lieutenant Wilibald's, and I know he would be sorry if
what you have said should go forth to the world as truth. It was by
no means a disagreeable task for him to lead out Miss Mordaunt in any
dress she chose to appear in, for he was too much in love with her
to notice such small matters as dress. Yes, I venture to say, if it
had depended on him alone he would not have married the woman he has;
but he was forced by circumstances, and Miss Mordaunt did her utmost
to promote the marriage and to put him in possession of a fortune."
I inwardly thanked the Captain for his chivalrous defence of the
absent, and I would gladly have taken him by the hand and done so
publicly, but that this would have prevented my hearing more on the
subject of Francis.
"And has Miss Mordaunt been married since?" I asked, trying to put
the question as disinterestedly as possible.
"Why, no!" cried the elderly spinster with a triumphant smile. "So
far as we know (and we know pretty well everything that happens in
our circle), she has never had an offer."
"Ah! that is very strange; a young lady who seems to be possessed of
so many attractions," I observed.
"That's not at all strange," interrupted the little widow, in a
coquettish, sentimental tone. "It was never difficult for her to
attract admirers and flatterers for the moment, but it is only by
the heart that a woman wins true affection and esteem; and, with the
Captain's permission, no one could ever believe Francis Mordaunt to
be in earnest, for she has no heart--she never cared for anything
but horses and dogs."
"You forget her grandfather!" pleaded the Captain.
"Well, yes, she has been his idol; but this very fact has turned out
her ruin."
"How are we to understand that remark, madame?" asked Overberg,
whose jovial face grew serious.
"That he has left the girl far too much to her own whims and fancies."
"What shall I say, chere amie? He was afraid of her." (It was the
elderly spinster who again began the attack.) "He could roar at his
officers, but he was afraid of a scene with Francis."
"Excuse me for once more contradicting you, miss. Colonel von Zwenken
never roared at his officers--this I know by experience; but it is
true he was conspicuous by his absence when Francis Mordaunt went
into society. He suffered her to go out when she liked, and with whom
she liked. Alas! he sat at the card table in his club whilst Francis
by her thoughtlessness and certain peculiarities in her character,
was rendering herself a victim to calumny and envious tongues."
"Bravo, Captain! it's noble of you to defend the absent."
"I am only sorry I cannot do so without blaming another absent person;
but what I say is known, and well known, in this circle."
"As well known as the eccentricities of Major Frank. Whatever Captain
Sanders may say, we are not making her conduct appear worse than it
is; we are only speaking of it as it struck us at the time."
"That everybody must acknowledge," said an old lady, who had thus far
listened with sparkling eyes. "Only remember what talk her conduct
gave rise to when she met the stranger staying at the 'Golden Salmon,'
by appointment, unknown to the Colonel, who had forbidden the man his
house! Did she not set all our ideas of good breeding at defiance by
walking in the plantation in open daylight with a perfect stranger."
"In fact, I am assured she pawned her diamonds to pay his hotel
bill. She even wished to sell them, for she asked a friend of mine
to buy them."
Overberg's healthy, blooming face turned pale; but he said nothing. The
Captain, however, spoke again--
"It is only too true she would risk all to attain her ends, if she
had once set her mind on a thing."
"And that for a person who went to a third-rate hotel--did not even
give his own name, as it was said afterwards; and who certainly was
a sharper or a coiner."
"If such had been the case, the police would have looked after him
sharp," interposed Overberg.
"That is my opinion also," said the Captain; "and I think Wilibald
Smeekens was right. He said it was some one who had formerly committed
a breach of military discipline, and whom she out of pity wished to
assist in getting out of the country."
"Ahem! out of pity," said the old lady. "Young ladies should be careful
how they show such pity--carrying on an intrigue. I can assure you
that at the time it was a question whether we ought not to banish
her from our society."
"But no one dared to pronounce the sentence of banishment," said the
Captain, "for fear of the Colonel, who had it in his power to refuse
the military music for the balls and open-air concerts in summer. And
this he certainly would have done if he had known what was hatching
against his granddaughter. But the ladies were more prudent; they
pulled poor Francis to pieces behind her back."
"With this result," added the elderly spinster, "that of her own
accord she almost entirely withdrew from our society."
"No, there is another reason," said the widow, with a significant
shake of the head; "it was not our treatment, but her own conscience
which pricked her after that affair with her coachman."
"Yes, you are quite right; that was a sad affair," assented the
Captain, to my painful surprise.
The honourable man, who had evidently combatted calumny and slander,
was now silenced. I wished to ask what had happened, but the words
stuck in my throat; I felt as if they would choke me. The postmaster,
however, who had just entered the room, put the question, which the
tongues of the ladies were quivering with impatience to answer.
"Unfortunately, no one knows the exact particulars," began the elderly
spinster, whose shrill, sharp voice made itself heard above the rest;
"but it is generally believed she wished to make her coachman elope
with her. Possibly she might have succeeded, but the man was already
married, and when that became known----"
"She pitched him off the box whilst the horses were going at a furious
rate," put in the old lady, with a demoniacal smile of pleasure.
"Others who are supposed to know, say she struck him dead with the
whip," added the little widow, who must have her say. "Horrible! most
horrible!" she continued, turning up her eyes with mock sentimentality.
Yes, horrible indeed, thought I, when both young ladies and old vie
with each other in a wicked desire to give the coup de grace to one
of their own sex who has erred, or, may be, only taken one false step
in life.
"I have been told," murmured another voice, "that she fought with him;
and the horses taking fright, he fell from the box under their feet."
"However it happened, the truth will never be known, for he now lies
in the churchyard."
"Yes, now you've got the truth without any figures of speech," jested
the widow; "and with him the crime is buried, and hushed up for ever."
"With your permission, ladies, had there been a question of anything
of that sort, the law would have taken its course," observed Overberg;
"and I know for certain it was never brought before a court."
"That I can believe," answered the widow. "The magistrate is a
great friend of the Colonel's, plays cards with him every evening,
and to palliate the affair, and silence public indignation, he made
an official visit to the commandant's house. Francis Mordaunt was
examined, and, as might be expected beforehand, came out of the
affair snow-white--at least, according to the magistrate's report,"
added the widow, with a satirical shrug of the shoulders.
"But, madame," interposed Overberg, evidently growing angry, "do you
mean to say you suspect the impartiality of the magistrate?"
"I suspect no one; I only tell you how the affair ended--namely,
that it was hushed up, and the relations of the coachman bribed to
keep quiet. Such people are easily frightened. One thing, however,
is certain, and that is, Major Frank has not dared to show her face
in our circle since; and besides this, it seems to have been the
cause of her grandfather retiring from the service."
"He had attained the age to be put on the retired list," said the
Captain; "and with his pension he obtained the honorary rank of
General."
"Be that as it may, the General retired from the world to Castle de
Werve," observed the old lady.
"Where, now, Major Frank has the command," put in the spinster.
"And spends her time in riding and shooting," added the little widow,
turning up her nose superciliously.
"I venture to contradict the latter part of the assertion with regard
to the shooting," said Overberg; "for the General has not renewed his
shooting license and has leased the shooting over his own estates to
a client of mine, who, however, leaves the hares and partridges in
perfect peace."
This latter remark led to a long conversation amongst the gentlemen
about the shooting and fishing in the neighbourhood, whilst the ladies
set to work to sharpen their tongues on other absent victims.