Beatrice drew a paper out of the roll of music which she held in her
hand. "I have waited in vain for the author of this song to come to me,
in order to hear it from my lips and receive my thanks for it. He has
left to strangers that which was his duty. I am accustomed to _be
sought_, Signor. You seem to expect the same."
There certainly lay some reproach in her voice, but it was not very
harsh, and it would have been hardly possible, as Reinhold's eye
betrayed only too plainly what this staying away had cost him. He made
no reply to the reproach, did not defend himself against it, but his
glance, which seemed magnetically bound by the brilliantly beautiful
apparition, told her that his self-restraint was caused by anything
rather than indifference.
"Do you think I have sent for you to hear the air which is put down in
the programme?" continued the Italian, playfully. "The audience always
desires this air _da capo_; it is too trying for a repetition; I
propose, therefore, instead of this, to sing--something else."
A deep glow covered the young man's features, and he stretched out his
hand, as if with an unconscious movement, towards the paper.
"For mercy's sake! surely not my song?"
"You are uncommonly alarmed about it," said the singer, stepping back,
and withdrawing the music from him. "Are you afraid for the fate of
your work in my hands?"
"No, no!" cried Reinhold passionately, "but--"
"But? No objections, Signor! The song is dedicated to me, is handed
over to me for good or evil. I shall do with it what I choose. Only one
more question. The director is quite prepared; we have practised the
performance together, but I should prefer seeing you at the piano when
I appear before the audience with your music. May I count upon you?"
"You will trust yourself to my accompaniment?" asked Reinhold, with
trembling voice. "Trust yourself entirely without first trying it? That
is a risk for us both."
"Only if your courage fail, not otherwise," explained Beatrice. "With
your power over the piano I have already made acquaintance, and there
is certainly no question as to whether you are sure of the
accompaniment to your work. If you are as sure of yourself before this
audience as you were lately at the party, we can perform the song
without hesitation."
"I will risk all, if you are at my side," Reinhold exclaimed,
passionately. "The song was written for you, Signora. If you decide
differently for it, its fate lies in your hand. I am ready for all."
She answered only with a smile, proud and confident of success, and
turned to the conductor who at that moment drew near. Then ensued a
low, but lively conversation in the group, and the other gentlemen
regarded with undisguised displeasure the young stranger who quite
monopolised the attention and conversation of the Signora and, to their
great annoyance, occupied her until the signal for the commencement of
the concert was given.
The room, in the meanwhile, had filled to the very last seat, and the
dazzlingly-lighted place, in conjunction with the rich toilets of the
ladies, offered a brilliant sight. Consul Erlau's wife sat with several
other ladies in the front part of the room, and was engaged in
conversation with Dr. Welding, when her husband, accompanied by a young
man, wearing a captain's uniform, came up to her seat.
"Herr Captain Almbach," he said, introducing him, "to whom I owe the
rescue of my best ship and all its crew. It was he who came to the help
of the 'Hansa,' when already almost foundered, and it is entirely to
his self-sacrificing energy--"
"Oh pray, Herr Consul, do not let Frau Erlau immediately anticipate a
storm at sea!" interrupted Hugo, "we poor sailors are always so
maligned as regards our adventures, that every lady looks forward with
secret horror to their inevitable relation. I assure you though,
Madame, that you have nothing to fear with me. I intend my
conversational attempts to be confined to the mainland."
The young sailor appeared indeed to understand very thoroughly the
differences of the society in which he moved. It never entered his head
here, when the opportunity was offered him, to recount adventures,
which in his relative's house he lavished so liberally. The Consul
shook his head a little dissatisfied.
"You appear wishful to laugh away all recognition of your services,"
responded he. "I am not the less in your debt, even if you do make it
impossible for me to discharge it in any way. Besides, I do not believe
the relation of this adventure would injure you with the ladies, quite
the contrary. And as you refuse all account of it so positively, I
shall reserve it myself for the next opportunity."
Frau Erlau turned with winning friendliness to Hugo.
"You are no stranger to us, Herr Captain Almbach, even for your
family's sake. Only lately we had the pleasure of seeing your brother
at our house."
"Yes--only once," added the Consul, "and then merely by chance. Almbach
appears unable to forgive me that my mode of living varies so from his
own. He purposely keeps himself and all his family at a distance, and
for years has stopped all visits from our godchild--we hardly know what
Eleanor looks like."
"Poor Eleanor!" remarked Frau Erlau, compassionately. "I fear she has
been intimidated by a too strict bringing up, and being kept much too
secluded. I never see her otherwise than shy and quiet, and I believe
in the presence of strangers she never raises her eyes."
"She does though," said Hugo, in a peculiar voice. "She does sometimes,
but certainly I doubt if my brother has ever seen her do so."
"Your brother is not here, then?" asked the lady.
"No. He declined to accompany me. I do not understand it, as I know his
infatuation for music and especially for Biancona's singing. I am to
see this sun of the south, whose rays dazzle all H----, rise to-day for
the first time."
The Consul cautioned him laughingly with his finger.
"Do not scoff, Captain; rather protect your own heart against these
rays. To you, young gentleman, such things are most dangerous. You
would not be the first who had succumbed to the magic of those eyes."
The young sailor laughed confidently.
"And who says then, Herr Consul, that I fear such a fate? I always
succumb in such cases with the greatest pleasure, and the consolatory
knowledge that the magic is only dangerous for him who flees it.
Whoever stands firm, is generally soon disenchanted, often sooner than
he wishes."
"It appears you have had great experience already in such affairs,"
said Frau Erlau, with a touch of reproof.
"My God, Madame, when year after year one flies from country to
country, and never takes root anywhere, is nowhere so much at home as
on the rolling, ever-moving sea, one learns to look upon constant
change as inevitable, and at last to love it. I expose myself entirely
to your displeasure with this confession, but I must really beg of you
to look upon me as a savage, who has long forgotten, in tropical seas
and countries, how to satisfy the requirements of North German
civilisation."
Yet the manner in which the young Captain bowed and kissed the lady's
hand as he spoke, betrayed a sufficient acquaintance with these
requirements, and Dr. Welding remarked, drily, as he turned to the
Consul--
"The tropical barbarism of this gentleman will not distinguish
itself very badly in our drawing-rooms. So the hero of the much
talked of 'Hansa' affair is really the brother of the young Almbach to
whom Signora Biancona is just now according an interview in the
assembly-room?"
"Whom? Reinhold Almbach?" asked Erlau, astonished. "You heard just now
that he is not here."
"Certainly not, according to the Herr Captain's views," said Welding,
quietly. "According to mine, he positively is. Pray do not mention it!
To-night's concert seems intended to bring us some surprise. I have a
certain suspicion, and we shall see if it be well-founded or not. The
Signora likes theatrical effects, even off the stage; everything must
be unexpected, lightning-like, overwhelming; a prosaic announcement
would spoil everything. The conductor is, of course, in the plot, but
was not so easily persuaded. We shall await it."
He ceased, as Hugo, who until now had been talking to the ladies, came
to them, and immediately after the concert commenced.
The first part and half of the second passed, according to the
programme, with more or less lively interest for the audience. Only
towards the close did Signora Biancona appear, whose performance,
notwithstanding all that had so far been heard, formed the point of
attraction of the evening. The audience received and greeted their
favourite, whose pale features were more charming than ever, with loud
applause. Beatrice was indeed radiantly beautiful as she stood under
the streaming light of the chandelier, in a flowing gauze dress strewn
with flowers, and roses in her dark hair. She acknowledged it with
smiling thanks on all sides, and, when the conductor, who undertook the
accompaniment, had seated himself at the piano, began her recitative.
This time it was one of those grand Italian _bravura_ airs, which at
every concert and on every stage are certain of success, and demand the
audience's applause without at the same time fulfilling higher
requirements. A number of brilliant passages and effects made up for
the depth, which was really wanting in the composition, but it offered
the Italian an opportunity for perfect display of her magnificent
voice. All these runs and trills fell clearly as a bell from her lips,
and took such entrancing possession of the hearers' ears and senses,
that all criticism, all more serious longings, vanished in the pure
enjoyment of listening. It was a charming playing with tones--to be
sure, only playing, nothing more--but combined with the finished
certainty and grace of the performance, it acted like electricity upon
the audience, who overwhelmed the singer more lavishly than usual with
applause, and stormily encored the air _da capo_.
Signora Biancona seemed also inclined to accede to this wish as she
came forward again, but at the same moment the conductor left the
piano, and a young man, who had hitherto not been observed among the
other performers, took his place. The spectators stared in
astonishment, the Consul and his wife gazed at him in surprise; even
Hugo at the first moment looked almost shocked at his brother, whose
presence he had not suspected, but he began to guess at the connection.
Only Dr. Welding said quietly, and without the least surprise, "I
thought it!" Reinhold looked pale, and his hands trembled on the keys;
but Beatrice stood at his side--a softly-whispered word from her mouth,
a glance out of her eyes, gave him back his lost courage. He began the
first chords steadily and quietly, which at once told the audience it
was not to be a repetition of their favourite piece. All listened
wonderingly and eagerly, and then Beatrice joined in.
That was certainly something very different from the _bravura_ air just
heard. The melodies which now flowed forth had nothing in common with
those runs and trills, but they made their way to the hearers' hearts.
In those tones, which now rose as in stormy rejoicing, and again sank
in sad complaint, there seemed to breathe the whole happiness and
sorrow of a human life; a long-fettered yearning seemed at last to
struggle forth. It was a language of affecting power and beauty, and if
it was not quite understood by all, yet all felt that there was a sound
of something powerful, everlasting in it; even the most indifferent
superficial crowd cannot remain void of feeling when genius speaks to
it.
And here genius had found its mate, who knew how to follow and perfect
it. There was no more talk of a risk for both, as the one met the idea
of the other. The most careful study could not have given so perfect a
mutual understanding as was here created in a moment and by
inspiration. Reinhold found himself comprehended in every note, grasped
at every turn, and never had Beatrice sung so enchantingly, never had
the spirit of her singing displayed itself so much. She took her part
with glowing _abandon_; the talent of the singer and the dramatic power
of the actress flowed together. It was a performance which would have
ennobled even the most insignificant composition--here it became a
double triumph.
The song was ended. The breathless silence with which it had been
listened to continued a few seconds longer; no hand moved, no sign of
applause was heard; but then a storm broke forth, such as even the
_feted prima donna_ had seldom heard, and at any rate is unknown in a
concert-room. Beatrice seemed only to have waited for this moment; in
the next she had stepped to Reinhold, seized his hand, and drawn him
with her to the foot-lights, introducing him to the audience. This one
movement said enough; it was understood at once that the composer stood
before them. The storm of applause for both raged anew, and the young
musician, still half-bewildered by the unexpected success, holding
Beatrice's hand, received the first greeting and first approbation of
the crowd.
Reinhold only returned clearly to consciousness in the assembly-room,
whither he had accompanied Signora Biancona; a few moments of solitude
still remained to him; beyond, in the concert-room, the orchestra was
playing the finale to a most indifferent audience, which was still
completely impressed by what it had just heard. Beatrice withdrew her
arm which lay in that of her companion.
"We have conquered," she said, softly; "were you satisfied with my
song?"
With a passionate movement, Reinhold seized both her hands, "Ask not
this question, Signora! Let me thank you, not for the triumph, which
was more yours than mine, but that I was also permitted to hear my song
from your lips. I composed it in the recollection of you--for you
alone, Beatrice. You have understood what it says to you, otherwise you
could not have sung it in such a manner."
Signora Biancona may have understood it only too well, but in the
glance with which she looked down at him there lay still more than the
mere triumph of a beautiful woman, who has again proved the
irresistibility of her power. "Do you say that to the woman, or the
actress?" asked she, half-playfully. "The road is now open, Signor,
will you follow it?"
"I will," declared Reinhold, raising himself determinedly, "whatever
opposes me, and whatever form my future may take, it will have been
consecrated for me, since the Goddess of Song herself opened the gate
to me."
The last words had the same tone of passionate adulation which Beatrice
heard from him once before; she bent closer towards him, and her voice
sounded soft, almost beseeching, as she answered--
"Do not then avoid the Goddess any more so obstinately as hitherto. The
composer will surely be allowed to come to the actress from time to
time. If I study your next work, Signor, shall I have to discover its
meaning alone again, or will you stand by me this time?"
Reinhold gave no reply, but the kiss which he pressed burningly
hot upon her hand, did not say no. Nor did he this time bid her
farewell--this time no recollection tore him away from the dangerous
proximity. Whatever arose in the distance that time with gentle
warning, had now no place in a single thought of the young man's
mind. How could, indeed, the faint, colourless picture of his young
wife exist near a Beatrice Biancona, who stood before him in all the
witch-like charms of her being, this "Goddess of Song," whose hand had
just conducted him to his first triumph! He saw and heard her only.
What for years had lain hidden within him--what, since his meeting with
her had struggled and fought its way out, this evening decided the
beginning of an artist's career, and of a family drama.
* * * * *
The following days and weeks in the Almbachs' house were not the most
agreeable. It could naturally not remain concealed from the merchant
that his son-in-law had appeared before the public with his
composition, and for this reason, that Dr. Welding, in the morning
paper, gave a detailed account of the concert, in which the name of the
young composer was mentioned. But neither the praise which the usually
severe critic accorded in this instance, nor the approval with which
the song was everywhere received, nor even the intervention of Consul
Erlau, who, taking Reinhold's part very eagerly and decidedly, upheld
his musical gifts, could overcome Almbach's prejudices. He persisted in
seeing in all artistic efforts an idling as useless as it was
dangerous--the real ground of all incapacity for practical business
life, and the root of all evil. Knowing as little as most people that
it had been almost an act of compulsion by which Signora Biancona
had forced Reinhold to appear publicly, he regarded the whole as a
pre-arranged affair, which had been undertaken without his knowledge
and against his will, and which made him almost beside himself. He
allowed himself to be so carried away, that he called his son-in-law to
account like a boy, and forbade him, once for all, any farther musical
pursuits.
That was, of course, the worst thing he could have done. At this
prohibition, Reinhold broke out into uncontrollable defiance. The
passion which, despite all that fettered it outwardly and held it in
bounds, formed the groundwork of his character now broke out into a
truly terrific fury. A fearful scene ensued, and had Hugo not
interposed with quick thought, the breach would have become quite
irremediable. Almbach saw with horror that the nephew whom he had
brought up and led, whom he had tied to himself by every possible bond
of family and business, had outgrown his control completely, and never
thought of bending to his power. The strife had ceased for the time
present, but only to break out afresh at the first opportunity. One
scene succeeded another; one bitterness surpassed another.
Reinhold soon stood in opposition to his whole surroundings, and the
defiance with which he clung more than ever to his musical studies, and
maintained his independence out of the house, only increased the anger
of his father and mother-in-law.
Frau Almbach, who shared her husband's opinion entirely, supported him
with all her strength; Ella, on the contrary, remained, as usual, quite
passive. Any interference or taking a part was neither expected nor
desired; her parents never thought of crediting her with the very least
influence over Reinhold, and he himself ignored her in this affair
altogether, and did not even seem to grant her the right of offering an
opinion. The young wife suffered undeniably under these circumstances;
whether she felt the sad, humiliating part which she, the wife,
played--thus overlooked by both factions--set aside and treated as if
incapable--could hardly be decided. At her parents' bitter and excited
discussions, and her husband's constant state of irritation, which
often found vent at trifling causes, and was generally directed against
her, she always showed the same calm, patient resignation, seldom
uttered a beseeching word, never interfered by any decided
partisanship, and when, as usual, roughly repulsed, drew back more
shyly than ever.
The only one who remained now, as before, on the best terms with all,
and kept his undisputed place as general favourite, was, strange to
say, the young Captain. Like all obstinate people, Almbach resigned
himself more easily to a fact than to a struggle, and forgave more
easily the direct but quiet want of regard for his authority, such as
his eldest nephew had shown him, than the stormy opposition to his will
which was now attempted by the younger one. When Hugo saw that a hated
calling was forced upon him, he had neither defied nor offended his
uncle; he had simply gone away, and let the storm rage itself out
behind his back. Certainly, he did not hesitate later to enact the
return of the prodigal son to ensure his entrance into the house to
which his brother belonged, and his restoration to his relations'
favour. Reinhold possessed neither the capability nor the inclination
to play with circumstances in this way. Just as he had never been able
to disguise his dislike to business life, and his indifference to all
the provincial town interests, so he now made no secret of his contempt
for all around him, his burning hatred for the fetters which confined
him--and it was this which could not be pardoned. Hugo, who espoused
his brother's side positively, was permitted to take his part openly,
and did so on every occasion. His uncle pardoned him this, even looked
upon it as quite natural, as the young Captain's mode of treatment
never let it come to a rupture, while with Reinhold, the subject only
needed to be touched upon in order to cause the most furious scenes
between him and his wife's parents.
It was about noontide, when Hugo entered the Almbachs' house, and met
his servant, whom he had sent before with a message to his brother, at
the foot of the stairs. Jonas was really nominally only a sailor in the
"Ellida;" he had long had his discharge from the ship, and been
appointed solely to the young Captain's personal service, whom he never
left, even during a lengthy stay on shore, and whom he followed
everywhere with constant, unvarying attachment. Both were of about the
same age. Jonas was truly far from ugly; in his Sunday clothes he might
even pass for a good-looking fellow, but his uncouth manner, his rough
ways and his chariness of speech never allowed these advantages to be
perceived. He was almost on an enemy's footing with all the servants,
especially the women of Almbach's household, and none of them had ever
seen a pleasant expression on his face, nor heard a word more than was
absolutely necessary. Even now he looked very sour, and the four or
five dollars he was just counting in his hand seemed to excite his
displeasure, judging from the savage way he looked at them.
"What is it, Jonas?" asked the Captain, approaching, "are you taking
stock of your ready money?"
The sailor looked up, and put himself in an attitude of attention, but
his face did not become more pleasant.
"I am to go to the nursery garden and get a bouquet of flowers," he
grumbled, as he put the money in his pocket.
"Oh! are you employed as messenger for flowers?"
"Yes, here too," said Jonas, emphasising the last word, and with a
reproachful glance at his master, added, "I am used to it, to be sure."
"Certainly," laughed Hugo. "But I am not used to your doing such things
for others than myself. Who has given you the commission?"
"Herr Reinhold," was the laconic reply.
"My brother--so?" said Hugo, slowly, while a shade flitted across his
features, so bright just now.
"And it is a sin the sum I am to pay for it," muttered Jonas. "Herr
Reinhold understands even better than we how to throw away dollars for
things which will be faded to-morrow, and we at any rate are not
married, but he--"
"The bouquet is of course for my sister-in-law?" the Captain
interrupted shortly. "What is there to wonder at? Do you think I shall
give my wife no bouquets when I am married?"
The last remark must have been very unexpected by the sailor, as he
drew himself up with a jerk, and stared at his master in the most
perfect horror, but the next minute he returned reassured to his old
position, saying confidently--
"We shall never marry, Herr Captain."
"I forbid all such prophetic remarks, which condemn me without further
ado to perpetual celibacy," said Hugo quickly, "and why shall '_we_'
never marry?"
"Because we think nothing of women," persisted Jonas.
"You have a very curious habit of always speaking in the plural,"
scoffed the Captain. "So I think nothing of women; I thought the
contrary had often roused your ire?"
"But it never comes to marriage," said Jonas triumphantly, in a tone of
unconquerable conviction, "at heart we do not think much of the whole
lot. The story never goes beyond sending flowers and kissing hands,
then we sail away, and they have the pleasure of looking after us. It
is a very lucky thing that it is so. Women on the 'Ellida'--Heaven
protect us from it!"
This characteristic account, given with unmistakable seriousness,
although again in the unavoidable plural, appeared to be full of truth,
as the Captain raised no objection to it. He only shrugged his
shoulders laughingly, turned his back upon the sailor, and went
upstairs. He found Reinhold in his own rooms, which lay in the upper
story, and a single glance at his brother's face, who was walking
angrily up and down, showed him that something must have happened again
to-day.
"You are going out?" asked he, after greeting him, while looking at the
hat and gloves lying on the table.
"Later on!" answered Reinhold, recovering himself. "In about an hour.
You will stay some time?"
Hugo overlooked the last question. He stood opposite his brother, and
gazed searchingly at him.
"Has there been a scene again?" he asked half-aloud.
The moody defiance, which had disappeared for a few moments from the
young man's face, returned.
"To be sure. They have attempted once more to treat me like a
schoolboy, who, when he has accomplished his daily appointed task, is
to be watched, and made to render an account of every step he takes,
even in his hours of recreation. I have made it clear to them that I am
tired of their everlasting guardianship."
The Captain did not ask what step the quarrel was about; the short
conversation with Jonas seemed to have explained all that sufficiently;
he only said, shaking his head--"It is unfortunate that you are so
completely dependent upon our uncle. If later on it end in a regular
rupture between you, and you leave the business, it would become a
question of existence for you--your income goes entirely with it. You,
yourself, might trust wholly to your compositions, but to think they
could support a family yet would be making your future very uncertain
from the beginning. I had only myself to act for; you will be compelled
to wait until a greater work places you in the position of being able
to turn your back, with your wife and child, upon all the envy of a
small provincial town."
"Impossible!" cried Reinhold almost madly. "By that time I shall have
foundered ten times over, and what talent I possess with me. Endure,
wait, perhaps for years? I cannot do it, it is the same thing to me as
suicide. My new work is completed. If only in some degree it attain the
success of the first, it would enable me to live at least a few months
in Italy."
Hugo was staggered.