* * * * *
It was useless to think of sleeping. Not only because the detestable
scene I had just witnessed still hovered before my eyes, but because I
expected every moment that the other would return home, and wished to
be ready in case his wife should need my assistance.
True, she was strong and brave enough to defend herself against any
insult or injury. But who could tell in what state of recklessness,
stung by his evil conscience, that "other" would confront her.
At any rate he delayed long enough. The _role_ of double, which he
played so admirably, seemed to have found an appreciative audience in
the depraved girl for whom he was enacting it, or perhaps she had
entered into the deception with malicious satisfaction in order to
wound the noble woman she hated.
I heard the clock strike the hours--midnight, one, two. Then, without
undressing, I threw myself on the bed and shut my burning eyes, but my
ears remained open and watchful. Scarcely half an hour had passed when
I heard a lagging step approach along the pavement below, and in an
instant again stood at my window. Yes, it was he. By the gray light of
the summer sky, I could distinguish the Polish cap, the loose coat, and
the white hands which hastily rummaged his pockets for the key of the
house door. But it was in the other suit of clothes, now worn by the
double. The criminal who had shut himself out of the peace of his own
home stood for a time gazing up at the windows, behind which he
doubtless saw the glimmer of the night-lamp. Ought you to go down, open
the door for him, and pour forth to his face all you think of him, all
the wrath you have so long pent up concerning his sins against this
woman, the tip of whose little finger he is unworthy to kiss? No, I
thought. Let him suffer for his sin. It is only a pity that this isn't
a winter night, and he is not obliged to stand barefoot in the snow
until broad daylight.
He? He would have been likely to undertake such a penance! After twice
calling, in a tone of assumed piteousness, "Luise!" he took off his
cap, passed his hand over his waving locks, then pressed the little fur
cap low over his forehead, and turned defiantly to seek the place from
which some pitiful remnant of remorse had driven him.
I uttered a sigh of relief, opened the window, and cooled my heated
face. At last I sought my couch, and toward morning really fell asleep.
My slumber was so sound that I was first roused by a very loud knocking
at my door. When I opened it, Kunigunde was standing outside, and
requested me to come down to Frau Luise. "Has your master returned?" I
asked the faithful creature.
"Of course. But not until nearly nine o'clock, when my mistress had
gone out to make some purchases. He seemed to know that she was not at
home, for he did not even ask for her, but shut himself up in her room
for a while, and then went away without leaving any message. But I saw
a letter lying on the table, which the mistress read as soon as she
came in, and then sent me up to you."
The good old woman was evidently troubled, and, in spite of having gone
to rest so early, seemed to have heard enough of the nocturnal scene to
pity her honored mistress.
When, following close at her heels, I entered Frau Luise's room, I
found her sitting on the sofa beside a table, with the letter lying
open before her.
She nodded to me with an absent look, and said in an expressionless
tone: "Sit down and read this, Johannes; the end has come."
I took the sheet and hastily glanced over it. The letter was not short,
and was written precisely in Spielberg's usual style, lofty, adorned
with rhetorical ornaments, interspersed here and there with a quotation
from Schiller. He saw that by yesterday's occurrence--of which, though
without any evil intent, he had been the cause--he had forfeited even
the last remnant of her love. So it would be better for him to go
voluntarily into exile, and not return until he could meet her with new
renown and in an assured position. True, what are the hopes, the wishes
on which man relies? But he trusted to his star. She would lose all
trace of him for a time, but he hoped he should afterward be able to
repay her for what she had suffered through him. He closed by thanking
her for her generous tolerance of his weaknesses. Genius was no easy
companion for a life-pilgrimage--and similar high-sounding words.
In a postscript, he begged her to pardon him for having appropriated,
in order to execute his plan, the reserve fund she had so carefully
saved. He left in exchange, at her free disposal, the whole _fundus
instructus_, scenes, costumes, requisites, and theatrical library; she
might either sell them or continue the business. In the latter case,
Cousin Johannes would assist her.
Then followed a pathetic farewell, another quotation, and the
signature, with an elaborate flourish: "Ever your own Konstantin."
I probably looked like a person who, while eating raspberries, suddenly
bites a wasp. For, as I silently laid down the letter, she said
soothingly: "It has moved me very little. This must have happened
sooner or later, and it is fortunate that it came now. Believe me, I
feel perfectly calm, and am sincerely grateful to him for not having
sought a personal interview. I am like a person recovering from a
severe, insidious disease, a little weak, it is true, but I shall no
longer be terrified by the hideous visions with which the fever
tortured my brain."
"What do you intend to do?" I asked at last.
"My duty, so far as I can. True, I am as poor as a church-mouse. But
the others must not suffer."
"Frau Luise," I said, "I know that you were formerly too proud to
summon your guardian to give an account of his management of your
property. But now, in such necessity--"
She smiled bitterly. "Too proud? My dear friend, I should not have been
too proud even at that time to claim my rights. But, as you know, where
there is nothing, even the Emperor cannot assert his rights, far less a
poor Canoness who eloped with an actor. My uncle squandered the last
shilling of my mother's property. Would you have me turn him out of
house and home by appealing to the law? But let us say no more about
these detestable things. Fortunately I paid the members of the company
their monthly salary only a few days ago. As the business is now broken
up, they are in a pitiable plight, for where can they obtain a new
engagement in midsummer? So the _fundus instructus_ must be sold as
quickly and as profitably as possible, and meantime be pawned. You will
do me this one last favor, dear Johannes. I have another little plan,
too. Why do you look at me so wonderingly? Surely you did not suppose
that all this would find me unprepared. I have long expected something
of the sort. Weak as he is--but we will not speak of him."
She now explained her intention of obtaining, by means of a concert in
the theater, a considerable sum for the benefit of the orphaned
company, which, bereft of the manager and "the others," could give no
more performances. By these "others" she meant Daniel and Victorine.
While out of doors she had met an actor, who excitedly asked whether
she knew that the couple had just gone on board an English merchant
vessel lying in the harbor. He did not say that the manager was with
them, but the wife did not doubt it for an instant, and therefore knew
what she should find when she returned to the house again.
She would herself appear and sing at the concert, she continued. She
knew that there would be a full house, for her misfortune, of course,
was now in everybody's mouth, and, as she had always kept out of sight,
curiosity and perhaps a better feeling would urge many to see and hear
the woman who had led so strange a life, and must now reap what she had
sown. She did not fear the eyes of strangers. It was a misfortune that
her heart had prompted her to entrust her life to the keeping of one
who was unworthy, but neither a disgrace nor a crime. So she would
appear, with head erect, before a cold, malicious world, and not a note
would falter in her throat.
She had not expected too much of her own powers. When she appeared on
the stage, in a plain black dress, with a little black veil wound
around her golden braids, and every eye in the densely-crowded house
was fixed upon her, I saw--I was sitting at the piano to play her
accompaniments--her face flush for a moment. But its natural hue
instantly returned, and she sang her aria from Orpheus, several
melodies from Iphigenia in Tauris, and Mignon's song composed by
Beethoven, with such power and simple beauty that it seemed as if the
tempests of life which had stirred the inmost depths of her soul had
only served to bring the flower of her art to still more superb
development.
The effect was so profound and overwhelming that a storm of applause,
such as had never greeted even the finest scenes of the great actor,
shook the theater.
She bowed modestly, with a sad smile that won every heart. When, in the
waiting-room, I congratulated her, her face clouded. "Hush," she
whispered hurriedly. "Would you tell the victim, about to be offered as
a sacrifice, that the garlands are becoming?"
The other parts of the programme, two comic soliloquies by Laban, and
some of Schiller's ballads recited by our _ingenue_, were well
received. When I accompanied Frau Luise home, I held in the box under
my arm a very large sum received from the evening's entertainment.
When we reached her room, I wished to give her the money. "No," she
replied, "henceforth you must be the treasurer. I shall make but one
stipulation--that you do not entirely forget yourself, but share
equally with the rest. With foolish generosity you have spent all your
savings in order to retain a laborious situation here, for which you
received neither thanks nor payment. What do you intend to do now?"
"That will depend upon you, Frau Luise."
Her eyes sought the floor, then, raising them to mine with an
indescribably tender glance, she said:
"No, my friend, we part this very day, this very hour. You need have no
anxiety about me. I shall not pine away and die. You know that I am
very strong, or how could I have endured everything?--and, as I am no
longer a Canoness, I must not shrink from a little labor. But you must
try to return to the life from which your friendship for me has torn
you. Promise me that, after you have attended to the last details of
business here, you will go back to your old profession, if not as a
clergyman, as a teacher, or in some scholarly occupation. I will watch
your course from a distance. You will promise, will you not?"
"Frau Luise," I stammered, "do you wish to banish me? Do you not
know--"
"I know all, my friend; you need not add another word. And I also know
that I love you with all my heart, and therefore it is better for us to
part. A woman whose husband has vanished is not free to choose--surely
you understand that. And I will suffer no stain upon my name. You will
remain my friend, as I am yours. And to seal this, I will now, in
bidding you farewell, affectionately embrace you and give you a
sister's kiss. Your lips, my faithful friend, shall restore the purity
of mine, which yesterday were desecrated by a scoundrel."
With these words, she embraced me, and for one brief, blissful moment
her warm lips pressed mine in a pure and tender caress. Then, with a
low "Farewell, my friend," she gently pushed me out of the door.
The next morning, when I woke from sorrowful dreams, and was hurriedly
dressing, some one knocked at my door. Kunigunde entered and, with many
tears, told me that her mistress had driven away at dawn in a hired
carriage, telling nobody her destination, and leaving for me a farewell
and a little package.
It was a sealed paper. When I opened it, out fell the gold chain on
which she used to wear around her neck the locket containing her
mother's picture.