It had grown quite dark; seven had struck by the factory clock, and
Kitty was still sitting in the bow-window in the large room at the
castle mill. At Susie's entreaty, she had inspected the linen-closet,
for the old housekeeper insisted that the miller's wife was not to be
trusted, and that "no one could keep their hands off beautiful homespun
linen." Then she had, as usual, prepared Susie's evening broth, and put
her to bed; for, although much better, she was still very weak and
helpless. But the girl had been sitting a long while in the recess of
the window, her hands gravely folded on her lap, until the shadows of
night wrapped her around. It was pleasanter here than at the
councillor's, where there was no cosy talk in the twilight hour as in
Dresden. No sooner had the sun set than the servants invariably drew
the curtains, the gas was lighted, and its dazzling rays banished the
shadows from every corner.
The muffled tick of the old clock against the wall sounded like a
measured subterranean knocking, and through the thick green curtain
before the glass of the closed door of the recess the night-lamp at
Susie's bedside glowed like the eye of some gloomy gnome. What a
breathless quiet reigned in the darkness! How intently, when a child,
she had listened in such an hour for the rustle and tripping tread of
the dusty brownies while Susie told her how the cruel and superstitious
lord who built the mill had buried a new-born babe in its foundations
and had mixed the mortar for them with precious wine! All these
recollections were but faintly present to her now: her eyes were fixed
upon the southern window, whence a faint light was still visible in the
sky,--upon the spot where the castle miller had breathed his last; and
she was thinking of the way in which Dr. Bruck had told her of the
verdict passed upon him by the public, and of his self-vindication, to
which she now wondered more than ever that he had condescended. Why,
even should the whole world insist upon it, she never could believe in a
reckless disregard of prudence, an ignorant, unscientific over-estimate
of himself, on the part of a man who was the personification of
integrity and honour. And the hot blood stirred in her veins, and
indignation possessed her, as she remembered the gross terms in which
Flora this very afternoon had stigmatized Bruck's medical capacity.
What a riddle Flora, admired and adored as she was, had become--once an
object to the child Kitty of wondering awe and secret admiration!
Henriette, when alone with her young sister, was careful never to make
the betrothed pair the subject of conversation; but from casual remarks
of hers, Kitty had gathered that Flora must at first have shown a
passionate affection for her lover.
Doctor Bruck, after serving as regimental surgeon during the
Franco-Prussian War, and then remaining for some time in Berlin as
assistant to a distinguished surgeon there, had returned to M----,
principally in compliance with his aunt's entreaty. There the
favourable reputation that had preceded him, and his fine person, had
soon made him a popular physician as well as a great social favourite.
It was therefore no condescension even on the part of the haughty Flora
Mangold to yield him the coveted treasure of her hand. She had herself
made decided advances to him in persisting in placing herself under the
skilful young doctor's care for a painful sprained ankle; before the
ankle had recovered they were betrothed, and the lady was much envied.
This was, of course, why she wished to avoid any sudden breach of the
engagement, and laid perfidious plans for inducing a gradual termination
to it, founded upon mutual decline of affection.
Kitty started up; it was intolerable to her to think that if she
remained she must be a witness of this distressing drama,--must see the
unhappy man, in spite of his strong affection and efforts to the
contrary, thrust forth from the paradise he had dreamed of. No; she
sided with Moritz and Henriette. Flora could not and should not break
her troth; the whole family must combine to prevent such wretched
treachery. What folly so blinded her as thus to induce her to destroy
her own happiness! Had she not seen him in his home with his loving
foster-mother? Did she not know that the winds of heaven would never be
allowed to visit her too roughly if she bestowed upon him the happiness
he craved?
Kitty started and covered her face with her hands. It had grown so dark
here, so black was the night, that it seemed a fitting time for sinful
thoughts to creep into an unguarded soul. She ran across the room and
threw wide the door upon the stairs; the large lamp was burning in the
hall below, throwing slender rays upwards among the pillars of the
gallery, even to her feet, while from the mill itself, the door of which
opened at that moment, came the noise of loud voices. Light and sound
instantly dissipated the alluring phantoms that were crowding into the
young girl's mind. There was the huge whitewashed hall of the castle
mill, and from its wall looked down in ghostly dimness out of the
worm-eaten black frame the figure, in full armour, of its knightly
builder. In former days the picture had terrified her; now it seemed to
her an old friend, beckoning her back to reality from a treacherous
dream in which she was playing a false part.
She descended the stairs, and left the mill. The night wind of spring
refreshed her hot cheeks, and stars filled the clear sky with glittering
arabesques. Kitty was ashamed of her idle dreaming; but had it not
assailed her like a sudden vertigo which may suddenly attack even the
healthiest and strongest of human kind?
From a distance she saw through the trees the glimmer of the lights at
the villa; and as she entered the hall-door she was greeted by the sound
of the piano. It was a magnificent instrument, but was being shamefully
maltreated at present. This was one of the Frau President's reception
evenings,--old and young came to take tea,--the elders went to the
card-tables, and the young people amused themselves with music and
conversation as best pleased them.
Kitty made a hasty toilette, and entered the drawing-room,--the large
balconied apartment on the ground-floor. There were but few guests this
evening; only one card-table was in demand, and the tea-table, usually
surrounded by young ladies, looked lonely and deserted.
Henriette was seated at it, making the tea; again she had scarlet
ribbons in her blonde hair, and a sleeveless jacket of the same
brilliant colour over a light blue silk dress. Her small, pallid face
looked ghostly in so theatric a costume, but her beautiful eyes shone
with an almost unearthly fire. "Bruck has come!" she whispered,
breathlessly, into Kitty's ear, pointing through the adjoining
music-room, where the grand piano was being so punished, towards Flora's
study. "Kitty, he really seems grown, so tall and majestic---- Good
heavens! do not look 'so sober, steadfast, and demure'!" she hastily
interrupted herself. She was strangely agitated. "They are all so
cross to-day; Moritz has had a dispatch which has made him
absent-minded, and grandmamma is dreadfully out of sorts because her
rooms are so empty. But I am so happy,--so happy! Do you know, Kitty,
that the day before yesterday, when I had that attack, I really imagined
that Bruck would see me next as a corpse? That must not be. I _will
not_ die without him!"
It was the first time she had ever spoken to Kitty of dying; and it was
well that the fingers scrambling hither and thither over the keys in the
music-room seemed just now endowed with fresh energy, and that three
elderly gentlemen, standing by the chimney-piece, raised their voices in
the ardour of their discussion, for the invalid's last exclamation was
loud and passionately uttered. Kitty gave her a warning glance, and the
Frau President looked keenly and disapprovingly over her eye-glass
towards the tea-table. Henriette instantly controlled herself.
"Nonsense! how can any one object to my saying so?" she said, lightly
shrugging her shoulders. "No one likes to die alone. One has a
physician in order that his presence may inspire with hope even one's
last breath."
Kitty understood now perfectly that the sick girl would never return
with her to Dresden. She declined the cup of tea which Henriette filled
for her with a trembling hand, and drew a small piece of embroidery from
her pocket.
"Oh, let that miserable work alone!" said Henriette, impatiently. "Do
you suppose I can sit here and watch you calmly stick in your needle and
draw out that tiresome thread?" She arose and put her hand within her
sister's arm. "Let us go into the music-room. Margaret Giese will
shatter the instrument and our nerves at the same time if we do not put
an end to this torment."
They went into the adjoining drawing-room, but the lady at the piano,
lost in her own harmonies, remained undisturbed. The folding-doors
leading into Flora's study were, as was usual when the reception was
small, wide open, allowing a full view of the interior. Its subdued
light made it seem almost gloomy in contrast with the other brilliantly
lighted apartments, and the dark crimson of its hangings deepened to
black in remote corners.
Flora was standing by the writing-table, her hands nervously clasped
before her, while the councillor leaned back comfortably in an
arm-chair, and Doctor Bruck stood looking through a new pamphlet. He
was unusually pale; the light falling from the lamp above him brought
out two dark wrinkles in his forehead and a deep shadow beneath his
eyes, but his expressive head, nevertheless, looked very young in
comparison with that of his future bride.
Henriette entered composedly; the lovers were not alone; but Kitty, whom
she drew with her, paused upon the threshold, repelled by Flora's air,
which was impatient, almost angry. She was evidently in an ill humour.
She surveyed with a sarcastic glance her sister's dress, for Kitty had
laid aside this evening, for the first time, her deep mourning, and wore
light gray.
"Come in, Kitty," she exclaimed, without changing her attitude. "In
stiff silk, I see, as usual, just like a paper angel, and enough to make
the strongest of us nervous with the perpetual rustle. Tell me, for
heaven's sake, why you always wear these frightfully heavy silks?
Scarcely the thing, I should say, for your cooking cares in Dresden."
"Oh, 'tis a weakness of mine, Flora," Kitty answered, with a smile.
"Childish enough, no doubt; but I like to hear an attendant rustle of
silk,--it sounds majestic. In the midst of my 'cooking cares' I do not
wear it, of course."
"Why, how proudly she admits the 'cooking cares'! You foolish child! I
should like to see you in a linen apron among your pots and pans! Well,
every one to his liking; I beg to be excused." Her large gray eyes
slowly turned towards the doctor, who was just quietly closing his book.
Kitty felt Henriette's little hand clench as it lay within her arm.
"Nonsense, Flora!" she said, in apparent amusement. "Five months ago you
often paid a visit yourself to Christel's kitchen. Whether you were of
any use there I cannot say; but the good intention, as well as your
pretty muslin apron, became you admirably."
Flora bit her lip. "You make a good story of it, Henriette; you never
were able to understand that jest or to take it for what it was,--a mere
whim." She folded her arms, and, drooping her head as in thought,
slowly walked towards the window. She looked very beautiful in her
white cashmere dress, with its soft, sweeping train.
The councillor sprang from his arm-chair. "Come, Floss, will you not go
into the drawing-room with me now?" he asked. "It is very empty, for a
good reason,--the prince holds a diplomatic audience to-night," he
added, by way of silencing his own discontent; "but we must do something
to put a little life into it, or we shall have grandmamma out of sorts
for a day or two."
"I excused myself to her for half an hour, Moritz," she said,
impatiently. "I must finish the article I have on hand to-night. The
manuscript would have been ready now if Bruck had not interrupted me."
The doctor approached her writing-table. "Is there such haste? And
why?" he asked, not without a touch of merriment in his face and voice.
"Why, my friend? Because I wish to keep my word," she replied, tartly.
"Ah, that amuses you! It is, to be sure, only a woman's work, and you
cannot, of course, comprehend how there can be any hurry about such a
trifle."
"These are assuredly not my views with regard to women's work in
general."
"In general!" she repeated, with a hard laugh. "Oh, yes, the general
world-wide idea,--cooking--sewing--knitting!" She counted them off upon
her fingers.
"You did not let me finish, Flora," he said, quietly. "I had reference
to mental as well as to physical labour. I am much interested in the
woman question, and desire nothing more, in common with all thoughtful
men, than that woman should be an intelligent assistant and co-worker
with man in the department of the intellect."
"Assistant? How very kind! We want no such kindness, my friend; we
want more: we would be the equal of man,--equal in our privileges as in
all else."
He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. The mingled expression of merry
scorn and indulgent gentleness became his fine face wonderfully well.
"This is indeed the extreme of these claims. It has been abandoned long
since by the most intelligent, and will be warmly opposed by all friends
of reform in church and state so long as woman shows herself liable to
such excesses as we have witnessed in the 'praying bands' of some of the
American cities, and in their unscrupulous adherence here in Europe to
the dark host of monkish confessors. To do otherwise would be to place
the murderous knife in a small and inconsiderate hand."
Flora grew very pale, but said not a word in reply. She took up a new
steel pen with apparent indifference and fitted it into a holder. Then
she drew a casket towards her, and, with a hand that trembled slightly,
took from it a small object.
Henriette withdrew her hand from her sister's arm and made one step
forward, while the councillor left the room hurriedly, as if to fulfil
some suddenly-remembered duty. Kitty was troubled. She saw the
trembling taper fingers take up a penknife and cut off the tip of the
cigar which had just been selected from the box.
"Such a knife as this, not for us to use in this way," Flora said, with
forced gaiety, over her shoulder to the doctor, who had paced the room
once or twice while speaking. "Strangely enough, however, the feminine
brain, although weighing four ounces less than that of the lord of
creation, shares with it this peculiarity: it thinks more vividly and
works more easily while smoking." She lighted the cigar and put it
between her lips, smiling nervously.
The performer upon the piano in the next room had finished her fantasia,
and now appeared upon the threshold. "What, Flora! smoking? Why, you
never could endure the smell of a cigar!" she cried, laughingly,
clapping her hands.
"Fraeulein Mangold is jesting," Doctor Bruck said, with perfect
composure, as he walked to the writing-table, "and will be quite
satisfied with trying it once only. Another attempt might cost her too
dear."
"Do you forbid it, Bruck?" she asked, coldly, a baleful fire glowing in
her eyes. She had taken the cigar from her mouth for a moment, and held
it delicately between her fingers.
It was what the doctor had evidently expected. Without haste, with
imperturbable equanimity, he took the cigar from her hand, and threw it
into the fire. "Forbid it as your lover?" he asked, with a shrug. "My
rights, as yet, do not extend so far. I might entreat you, but I
dislike repetition and useless words; and you know perfectly how I
detest a cigar in a woman's mouth. In this instance I forbid it simply
as your physician. Your lungs are not strong enough."
Flora stood for an instant confounded by this cool assurance; and his
last words evidently impressed her, but she controlled herself. "A
terrible diagnosis indeed, Bruck," she said, with a scornful smile.
"And the Councillor von Baer, who has attended me from my infancy, never
said a word of it. Tales to frighten children! Besides, I have no
reason for so loving my life that I should deny myself an enjoyment to
preserve it. On the contrary, I shall continue to smoke; in my
intellectual vocation I need it, and this vocation is my delight, my
moral support,--in it I live and breathe----"
"Until a certain inevitable crisis arrives to reveal to you your true
vocation," the doctor interrupted her. His voice sounded hard as steel.
A burning blush crimsoned her cheek. She opened her lips for an angry
reply, but her glance fell upon Fraeulein von Giese, the piano-player,
the sarcastic maid of honour, who was still standing in the door-way,
her head and shoulders bent forward, as if eager to catch every word of
this interesting dispute, that from it and from the embarrassed faces of
the bystanders she might extract material for a charming dish of court
scandal. This was certainly to be avoided. Flora turned away with a
graceful pout. "Nonsense, Bruck!" she exclaimed. "How prosaic! You
have just returned from a pleasure-trip, and have been amusing
yourself----"
She stopped. Bruck laid his hand on hers with a firm pressure. "Will
you have the kindness to leave my vocation out of the question, Flora?"
he asked, emphasizing his words strongly.
"I was speaking of pleasure," she said, pertly, withdrawing her hand
from his.
The Frau President's face, with its expression of cold dignity, was
never a welcome sight to Kitty, and when unexpectedly seen, inspired her
usually with a kind of shy terror; but now it was a positive relief when
the old lady suddenly entered the room. She came in with unusual haste,
and evidently in ill humour. "I shall have to order my card-tables to
be placed here in future, if I would not have my friends neglected," she
said, in an irritated tone. "How came you to leave the tea-table so
early, Henriette? I shall be obliged to place my maid there. And,
Flora, I cannot understand your withdrawing to your study when we have
guests. If your publisher is really so impatient that you must work in
the evenings, pray close your door, if you would avoid the appearance of
ostentation and a desire to be thought a blue-stocking!" She must have
been much vexed, to speak thus in the presence of the maid of honour.
Flora placed her manuscript before her, and dipped her pen in the ink.
"Decide upon that as you please, grandmamma," she said, coldly. "I
cannot prevent people from coming to me here, and I should have
sacrificed myself long ago, and been seated at one of your green-covered
tables, if I had not been interrupted."
Henriette stepped past her grandmother, and privately signalled to Kitty
to follow her. "These exciting scenes kill me," she whispered, as they
entered the empty music-room.
"Be tranquil. Flora's struggles are vain; he will yet bring her to his
feet," Kitty rejoined, in a strange, agitated tone. "But I cannot
understand him. Were I such a man----" Her eyes flashed, and she held
herself proudly erect.
"Do you know what it is to love, Kitty? Judge not! You, with your cool
glance and blooming cheeks, have no conception of the mad intoxication
which can take possession of a human soul." She paused, and drew a long
and labouring breath. "You do not know how enchanting and seductive
Flora can be if she chooses. You know her only in her present
mood,--cowardly, egotistical, pitiless. Once see her display affection,
and you will understand how a man must prefer death to surrendering his
right to her."