While the small company in Frau von Berkow's rooms in the second story
had been so suddenly and so terribly startled, there was a young lady
sitting quietly in a room a story higher, who had only arrived at the
house a few hours before with her husband (at least they took the young
man who had accompanied her to be her husband). As the luggage was
marked "Paris," and the gentleman had spoken French to the lady, the
people of the house took it for granted that they were French,
especially as the hotel was always full of French travellers. Mrs.
Captain Black, the owner of the hotel, had herself shown the strangers
to their rooms, and as the young lady seemed to be tired and suffering,
she had asked her very kindly if she could do anything for madame? The
young man (the young lady did not open her lips) had asked her to send
up some tea, but declined all other assistance. Soon afterwards the
young man had left the house.
He had not been gone five minutes when a cab, which had been waiting at
a little distance up the street ever since the strangers had arrived,
drove up to the house. A young man stepped out and asked the porter if
a gentleman and a lady who had arrived from Paris perhaps a quarter of
an hour ago were at home? When the porter replied that the gentleman
had just left, remarking he would be back in an hour, but that madame
was, as far as he knew, in her rooms. The young man asked him to show
him up at once. The porter--a man of great experience--saw that the
young man, who evidently belonged to the higher classes of society, was
in a state of great excitement; and as nine o'clock at night did not
seem to him the most suitable hour for visiting a lady who, besides,
was alone in her room, he replied that he did not think the lady could
be seen now. Would not the gentleman be pleased to call again to-morrow
morning?
"I am in a great hurry," said the young man; "I--I must see the young
lady--on family business. Will you be good enough to inquire if she
receives company, and carry this--this card?" he added, after some
reflection.
With these words he took a small card-case from his pocket and gave the
porter a card. It had on it the name of Adolphus Baron Breesen.
The young man's hand trembled so violently as he gave him the card, and
his face looked so pale and disturbed, that the porter was more
convinced than ever that all was not right, and that the interview of
the newcomer with the French lady was probably possible only at the
expense of the gentleman who had gone out.
"Why, I forgot," he said; "there is the key! They are both out."
The young man still held the case in his hand.
"I am sure," he said, drawing a gold-piece from a side pocket and
slipping it into the porter's hand, "that the lady is at home, and that
she will receive me when she sees the card."
The porter was an honest man, but he had a large family, and to-morrow
the school-money for his two eldest children was due.
"Third story, second door in the passage, on the left," he said,
grumbling.
The young man did not wait for more. He ran up, taking three steps at
once, and knocked at the door.
"_Entrez!_" answered a low voice.
When her companion had left her, to take a stroll through the streets,
the young lady had remained seated where she was, immoveable, her head
supported in one of her hands, and the other hanging listlessly by her
side. The light of the two wax candles on the table fell bright upon
her face. The face was evidently a lovely one when it beamed with joy
and exuberant spirits, as it was wont to do; but now it was pale, and
disfigured by much weeping. The large gray eyes stared fixedly at the
ground, the beautifully arched brows were painfully contracted, and the
lips closed firmly. Mechanically she said "_Entrez!_" when the waiter
knocked to bring tea; she did not even look up while he set the things
upon the table; and he had to ask twice if she had any more orders
before she answered a short "No!" She had totally forgotten that he had
been there as soon as the door closed behind him, and when another
knock came she said, quite as mechanically as before, "_Entrez!_"
"Emily!"
The young lady started up with a cry, and stared with wide-open eyes at
the young man who stood before her, as if she had been suddenly roused
from a deep sleep and did not know whether she were still in a dream or
saw what was real before her.
"Emily!" the young man said once more, and opened his arms.
"Adolphus!" she cried, and threw herself on his breast.
The two held each other embraced as they had done in the days of their
childhood when the brother came home during vacations, and the sister
had gone to meet him at the park gate.
But the days of childhood's innocence were long past. Emily tore
herself from her brother's arms, and cried, stretching out her hands as
if to keep him away from her,
"Where do you come from? What do you want here?"
"Can you ask that, Emily?" he replied, sadly; "What I want here? You!
Where I come from? From Paris; where I have searched for you months and
months; where I found a trace of you at last, just as you were leaving
town, and from whence I have followed you from town to town, from hotel
to hotel, without ever succeeding in finding you alone. Not that I am
afraid of him!" said the young man, unconsciously drawing himself up
proudly to his full height, "but I wanted to speak to you kindly and
gently, and I knew I should not be able to do that in his presence."
Adolphus approached his sister to seize her hand. She stepped back.
"What do you want of me?" she murmured.
"Emily!" he said, sadly; "is that your old love? Emily! child! come to
yourself! What else can I want of you than to free you of these chains,
which must have long since become intolerable to you! Oh, do not say
no! I see it in your eyes, I see it in your dear, pale face, that you
are very unhappy! Emily, sister! darling sister! come with me! By our
old father, who is dying for grief and sorrow; by the memory of our
sainted mother; by all you hold sacred, I beseech you, come with me!"
Emily had thrown herself into a corner of the sofa, sobbing and hiding
her face in her hands. Adolphus knelt down before her. He took both of
her hands in his own; he kissed her brow and hair and eyes; he spoke to
her with that eloquence which even the simplest of men find when their
heart is full of true love. He told her that he did not mean to carry
her back to her husband, whom he could not respect, and whom she had
married against his wishes; that she should not even return home if she
did not wish it; that he would take her to Italy--anywhere. He tried
every chord in her soul which he thought would vibrate under his touch,
but for a long time it was all in vain.
"I cannot leave him!" she repeated over and over again, amid tears and
sobs.
"But, for Heaven's sake, Emily!" cried the young man, "is it possible
that such a folly can last so long? Is it possible that you still love
this man?"
"Yes; yes! I love him; love him better than I ever did before!"
Adolphus started up and paced the room for some time. Then he came once
more to Emily and said,
"I must believe it, since you say so; but Emily, upon your honor--for
it is your honor now which is at stake--answer me this question: Are
you as sure of his love?"
Emily's only answer was more violent sobs; and crying bitterly, she
shook her head.
"Oh God!" said Adolphus bitterly; "have you fallen so low that you
follow a man who no longer loves you? to whom you are a burden? who
would give much to get rid of you again? Is this my proud sister? Well,
well! I shall have to break my coat of arms, and to cast down my eyes
before every wretched creature in the streets, and take it in silence
if anybody calls me a coward!"
The young man beat his forehead with his hand, and tears of wrath and
shame filled his eyes.
Emily started up from the sofa.
"Come!" she said hurriedly. "Come! You are right! I am a burden to him.
He will be glad to get rid of me. Come!"
"God be thanked!" said Adolphus.
"Let us go this instant!" cried Emily, following up her resolve of the
moment in her usual passionate manner. "I do not wish to see him again.
I will write to him----"
"Yes, yes!" said Adolphus. "Here is a leaf from my pocket-book; pen and
ink are here. Write to him, but just a few words."
Emily sat down at the table; but she had only written a few words when
she broke out once more in violent weeping.
"Oh God! Oh God!" she said, dropping her pen; "I cannot do it."
"Let me do it," said Adolphus, taking the pen; "I will do it. In the
meantime get your cloak; I shall be done in a moment."
While Emily was getting ready, Adolphus wrote rapidly a few lines. He
was not generally very expert in such things, but now the words came,
as it were, by themselves.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes!"
They went down. No one met them.
Adolphus gave the porter the keys to the rooms.
"Tell the gentleman, when he comes home, that the lady has gone out and
will probably not come back again."
Adolphus had put Emily into a cab.
The cab drove up with unusual rapidity.
"Hem!" murmured the porter, as he hung the key to No. 36 again on its
hook on the board; "I thought at once it would be so. Well, I cannot
keep the people if they must needs run away."