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"CLEAR THE TRACK!"
(FREIE BAHN)
_A STORY OF TO-DAY_
BY
E. WERNER
_Author of "The Alpine Fay," "Banned and Blessed," "Danira,"
"Vineta," "At a High Price," etc. etc_.
TRANSLATED BY MARY STUART SMITH
THE TRADE SUPPLIED BY
THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY
LONDON LEIPSIC
Copyright, 1893.
BY
ERNST KEIL'S NACHFOLGER
* * *
[_All rights reserved_]
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
1. The Feast of Flowers at Nice
2. In Council
3. "See the Path is Clear to a Grand Career"
4. Odensburg Manor
5. A Victory Wop
6. In Which More Than One Charmer Charms
7. Cecilia Visits Radefeld
8. A Bough of Apple-Blossoms
9. The Cross on the Whitestone
10. Maia's Choice
11. A Secret Foe and Open Enemy
12. The Goal in Sight
13. Runeck leaves Odensburg
14. How an Old Bachelor makes Love
15. A Wedding Day
16. Scenes at the "Golden Lamb"
17. Election Times
18. Fortune Smiles on Victor Eckardstein
19. "Off With the Old Love, On With the New"
20. Maia Must be Saved
21. From Heights of Bliss to Depths of Woe
22. His Sin had found Him out
23. A Lover's Tryst
24. A Deed that Wipes Out Old Scores
25. 'Twixt Life and Death
26. How Forces that Are Opposed May Blend
CLEAR THE TRACK!
CHAPTER I.
THE FEAST OF FLOWERS AT NICE.
A spring day at the South! Sky and sea are radiant in their deep blue,
flooded with light and splendor, the waves breaking gently upon the
shores of the Riviera, to which spring had already come in all its
glory, while, at the North, snow-storms are still raging.
Here rests golden sunshine upon the white houses and villas of the
town, that embraces the shore within the radius of a vast semicircle,
adorned by lofty palms, and embowered in the green of the laurel and
myrtle. Among thousands of shrubs, the camellia is conspicuous from its
wealth of bloom, in every stage of perfection, its colors ranging from
pure white to richest crimson; and could anything excel the richness of
its glistening foliage? From the adjacent hills hoary monasteries look
down, and modern churches surrounded by tall cypress trees; friendly
orchards stand out from pine and olive groves, and in the distance the
blue Alps, with their snow-crowned summits, are half hidden in sunny
mist.
Nice was celebrating one of its spring-and-flower festivals, and the
whole city and its environs had turned out in gala-attire, whether
stranger or native-born. Gayly-decked equipages passed by in endless
procession, every window and balcony being filled with spectators, and
on the sidewalks, under the palms, thronged a merry multitude, the
brown and picturesque forms of fishermen and peasants being everywhere
conspicuous.
The battle of flowers on the Corso was in full swing, the sweet
missiles being constantly shot through the air, here hitting their
mark, there missing it: blossoms, that are treasured at the North as
rare and expensive, were here scattered heedlessly and lavishly. Added
to this, there were everywhere waving handkerchiefs, shouts of joy,
bands of music playing, and the intoxicating perfume of violets,--the
whole of this enchantingly beautiful picture being enhanced by the
golden sunshine of spring with which heaven and earth was filled.
Upon the terrace of one of the fashionable hotels stood a small group
of gentlemen, evidently foreigners, who had chanced to meet here, for
they conversed in the German language. The lively interest with which
the two younger men gazed upon the entrancing scene betrayed the fact
that it was new to them; while the third, a man of riper years, looked
rather listlessly upon what was going on.
"I must go now," said he, with a glance at his watch. "One soon gets
tired of all this hubbub and confusion, and longs after a quiet spot.
You, gentlemen, it seems, want to stay a while longer?"
His companions certainly seemed to have that intention, and one of
them, a handsome man, with slender figure, evidently an officer in
civilian's dress, answered laughingly:
"Of course we do, Herr von Stettin. We feel no need for rest whatever.
The scene has a fairy-like aspect for us Northmen, has it not,
Wittenau?--Ah! there come the Wildenrods! That is what I call taste;
one can hardly see the carriage for the flowers, and the lovely Cecilia
looks the very impersonation of Spring."
The carriage that was just driving by was indeed remarkable through its
peculiarly rich ornamentation of flowers. Everywhere appeared
camellias, the coachman and outriders wore bunches of them in their
hats, and even the horses were decked with them.
On the front seat were a gentleman of proud and noble bearing, and a
young lady in a changeable silk dress of reddish hue, her dark hair
surmounted by a dainty little white hat trimmed with roses. Upon the
back seat a young man had taken his place, who exerted himself to take
care of the heaps of flowers that were fairly showered upon this
particular equipage. Among them were the costliest bouquets, evidently
given in compliment to the beautiful girl, who sat smiling in the midst
of all her floral treasures, and looking with great, beaming eyes upon
the festive scene around her.
The officer, also, had taken a bunch of violets, and dexterously flung
it into the carriage, but instead of the lady, her escort caught it,
and carelessly added it to the pile of floral offerings heaped up on
the seat beside him.
"That was not exactly meant for Herr Dernburg," said the dispenser of
flowers rather irritably. "There he is again in the Wildenrod carriage.
He is never to be seen but when dancing attendance upon them."
"Yes, since this Dernburg has put in his appearance, the attentions of
all other men seem superfluous," chimed in Wittenau, sending a dark
look after the carriage.
"Have your observations, too, carried you so far already?" said the
young officer tauntingly. "Yes, millionaires; alas! are always to the
fore, and I believe Herr von Wildenrod knows how to appreciate this
quality in his friends, for I hear that luck sometimes deserts him over
yonder at Monaco."
"You must be mistaken; there can be no talk of any such thing as that,"
replied Wittenau, almost indignantly. "The Baron produces the
impression that he is a perfect gentleman, and associates here with our
very first people."
The other laughingly shrugged his shoulders.
"That is not saying much, dear Wittenau. Just here, at Nice, the line
separating the _élite_ from the world of adventurers is strangely lost
sight of. One never rightly knows where the one ceases and the other
begins, and there is some mystery about this Wildenrod. As to whether
his claim to nobility is altogether genuine----"
"Undoubtedly genuine, I can certify as to that," said Stettin, who had
hitherto been a silent listener, but now came forward and joined in the
conversation.
"Ah, you are acquainted with the family, are you?"
"Years ago, I used to visit at the house of the old Baron, who has died
since, and there I also met his son. I cannot pretend to have any
particular acquaintance with the latter, but he has a full right to the
name and title that he bears."
"So much the better," said the officer, lightly. "As for the rest, it
is only a traveling acquaintance, and no obligation is incurred."
"Assuredly not, if one lays aside such relations as easily as they are
assumed," remarked Stettin with a peculiar intonation. "But I must be
off now--I hope to meet you soon again, gentlemen!"
"I am going with you," said Wittenau, who seemed suddenly to have lost
his appetite for sight-seeing. "The rows of carriages begin to thin out
already. Nevertheless, it will be a hard matter to get through."
They took leave of their comrade, who was not thinking of departure
yet, and had just supplied himself with flowers again, and together
left the terrace. It was certainly no easy thing to make one's way
through the densely-packed throng, and quite a while elapsed ere they
left noise and stir behind them. Gradually, however, their way grew
clearer, while the shouts of the multitude died away in the distance.
The talk between the two gentlemen was rather monosyllabic. The younger
one, particularly, appeared to be either out of sorts or absent-minded,
and suddenly remarked, quite irrelevantly:
"It seems that you know all about the Wildenrods, and yet mention it
to-day for the first time. And, moreover, you have had nothing to do
with them."
"No," said Herr von Stettin coolly, "and I should have preferred other
associates for you. I several times intimated as much to you, but you
would not understand my hints."
"I was introduced to them by a fellow-countryman, and you said nothing
decided----"
"Because I know nothing decided. The associations of which I told you,
a while ago, date twelve years back, and many changes have taken place
since then. Your friend is right, the line of demarcation between the
Bohemian and man of society gets strangely confused, and I am afraid
that Wildenrod is on the wrong side of the barrier."
"You do not believe him to be wealthy, then?" asked Wittenau, with some
emotion. "He lives with his sister, in high style, being apparently in
the easiest circumstances, and, at all events, has command of abundant
means, for the present."
Stettin significantly shrugged his shoulders.
"Inquire at the faro-bank of Monaco; he is a regular guest there, and
is said, too, to have good luck in play, for the most part--so long as
it lasts! One hears, too, occasionally of other things, that are yet
more significant. I have not felt disposed to renew the former
acquaintance, although our intercourse had been rather frequent, for
what used to be the Wildenrod possessions lay in the immediate
neighborhood of our family property, that is now in my hands."
"What used to be?" asked the young man. "Those possessions have been
sold, then? I perceive, however, that you do not like to speak on the
subject."
"To strangers, most assuredly not. I shall give what information I have
to you, though, because you have a real interest in the matter.
Remember, however, that what I say is strictly confidential!"
"My word upon it, that nothing you tell me shall go any farther."
"Well, then," said Stettin gravely, "it is a brief, melancholy, but,
alas! not an unusual story. Although the estate had long been heavily
encumbered with debt, the establishment was maintained upon a most
expensive scale. The old Baron had contracted a second marriage, in
later life, long after his son was a grown man. He could not thwart his
young wife in a single wish, and her wants were many, very many. The
son, who was in the diplomatic service, was also accustomed to high
living; various other losses ensued, and finally came the catastrophe.
The Baron suddenly died of a stroke of apoplexy--at least so it was
said."
"Did he lay violent hands on himself?" asked Wittenau in a whisper.
"Probably. It has not been ascertained for certain, but it is supposed
that he was not willing to survive the misery and disgrace of his ruin.
Disgrace was certainly averted, for the family still holds the most
honorable position. The Wildenrods rank with the highest nobility in
the land, and the name was to be shielded at any price. The castle and
lands adjacent became a royal domain, so that the creditors could be
pacified at least, and, by the general public, the sale was deemed a
voluntary one. The widow with her little daughter would have been given
over to utter poverty if, by the king's grace, she had not been allowed
a home in the castle and had an annuity settled upon her. As for the
rest, she died soon afterwards."
"And the son? The young Baron?"
"Of course he resigned his position, had to do so, under the
circumstances, for he could not be _attaché_ of affairs without some
fortune of his own. It must have been a severe blow upon the proud,
ambitious man, who had, most likely, been kept in utter ignorance of
the state of his father's affairs, and, now, all of a sudden, found
himself stopped short in his career. To be sure, many another honorable
calling stood open to him; friends would doubtless have secured some
situation for him, but this would have necessitated descent from the
sphere in which he had hitherto played a chief part; necessitated
sober, unremitting toil in an obscure station, and those were things
that Oscar Von Wildenrod could not brook. He rejected all offers of
employment, left the country, and was no more heard of in his native
place. Now, after the lapse of twelve years, I meet him here at Nice
with his young sister, who, meanwhile, has come to woman's estate, but
we prefer, it seems, on both sides, to treat each other as strangers."
While this narration was being made, 'Wittenau became very thoughtful,
but made no comment whatever. Noticing this, his friend laid his hand
upon his arm, and said gently:
"You should not have given young Dernburg such angry glances, for it
has been his appearance upon the scene, I fancy, that has saved you
from committing a folly--a great folly."
A glowing blush suffused the young man's face at this intimation, and
he was evidently much embarrassed.
"Herr von Stettin, I----"
"Now, do not understand me as reproaching you on account of looking too
deeply into a pair of fine eyes," interposed Stettin. "That is so
natural at your age; but in this case, it might have been fatal. Ask
yourself, whether a girl thus brought up, who has grown up amid such
influences and surroundings, would make a good farmer's wife, or be
happy in a country neighborhood. As for the rest, you would hardly have
found acceptance as Cecilia Wildenrod's suitor, because her brother
will give the decisive voice, and he wants a millionaire for a
brother-in-law."
"And Dernburg is heir to several millions, people say," remarked
Wittenau with undisguised bitterness. "So, he will be the one upon whom
this honor is to be bestowed."
"It is not mere say so, it is fact. The great Dernburg iron and steel
works are the most important in all Germany, and admirably conducted.
Their present chief is such a man as one rarely meets. I speak from
personal knowledge, having accidentally made his acquaintance a few
years ago. But see, there are the Wildenrods coming back again."
There, indeed, was the Baron's equipage, which had left the Corso a
little while ago, and was now on its way back to their hotel. The fiery
horses, which had with difficulty been curbed in, so as to keep step
with a procession, were now going at full speed, and rushed past the
two gentlemen, who had stepped aside, and looked upon the cloud of dust
that had been raised.
"I am sorry about that Oscar Wildenrod," said Stettin earnestly. "He
does not belong to the ordinary herd of mankind, and might perhaps have
accomplished great things, if fate had not so suddenly and rudely
snatched him away from the sphere for which he had been born and
reared. Do not look so downcast, dear Wittenau! You will get over this
dream of your youth, and after you get home to your fields and meadows,
will thank your stars that it was nothing but a dream."
The carriage, meanwhile, had gone on its way, and now stopped before
one of those grand hotels, whose exterior sufficiently showed that it
was only at the disposal of rich and distinguished guests.
The suite of rooms occupied by Baron von Wildenrod and his sister was
one of the best, and, of course, most expensive in the house, and
lacked none of the conveniences and luxuries to which pampered guests
lay claim. The rooms were splendidly furnished, but there was about
them that air of the public-house that takes away, in large measure,
any sense of genuine comfort.
The gentlemen were already in the parlor. Cecilia had retired in order
to lay aside her hat and gloves, while her brother, chatting
pleasantly, conducted their visitor to the veranda, whence was to be
seen a fine view of the sea and a portion of Nice.
Young Dernburg appeared to be twenty-four or five years old, his looks
making an impression that was insignificant rather than disagreeable.
His diminutive figure, with its somewhat stooping carriage and pale
complexion, with that peculiar tell-tale flush upon the cheeks,
betrayed the fact that he had sought the sunny shores of the Riviera,
not for the sake of pleasure, but out of regard for health. His face
had its attractive features, but its lineaments were much too weak for
a man, and this weakness culminated in the dreamy, somewhat veiled,
look of his brown eyes. The self-consciousness of the rich heir seemed
to be entirely lacking in this young man, his manners being unassuming,
almost shy, and had not the name he bore everywhere procured him
consideration, he would have been apt to be overlooked by the
generality of the world.
The Baron's personality was in every respect the reverse. Oscar von
Wildenrod was no longer young, being already not far from fifty years
old.
There was something imposing in his lofty stature, and his clean-cut,
regular features could but be regarded as handsome still, in spite of
the sharp lines engraven upon them, and the deep furrow between the
brows, that lent a rather sinister aspect to his countenance. Only a
cool, considerate calm seemed perceptible in his dark eyes, and yet
they flashed occasionally, with a fierceness that betokened the
existence of a passionate, unbridled nature. As for the rest, there was
something thoroughly distinguished in the Baron's whole appearance, his
manners united the complaisance of a man of the world combined quite
naturally with the pride inalienable from the scion of an ancient stock
of nobility, which was manifested, however, in a manner by no means
offensive.
"You are not seriously thinking of taking your leave of Nice?" asked
he, in the course of conversation. "It would be much too early, for you
would just be in time for that season of storms and rain, which they
honor with the name of spring, in that dear Germany of ours. You have
spent the whole winter in Cairo, have been just six weeks at Nice, and
should not expose yourself now to the asperities of that harsh Northern
climate, if you would not imperil the health that is restored to you,
but can hardly be established as yet."
"The question is not one of to-day or to-morrow," said Dernburg, "but I
cannot defer too long my return home. I have been more than a year in
the South, feel perfectly well again, and my father urgently requests
that I return to Odensburg as soon as possible, provided that the
doctors give me their permission."
"That Odensburg must be a grand creation," remarked the Baron.
"According to all that I hear from you and others, your father must
almost occupy the position of a small potentate; only his authority is
more unlimited than that of a prince."
"Certainly, but he has also the whole care and responsibility of his
station. You have no idea what it is to be at the head of such an
undertaking. It requires a constitution of iron, such as my father
possesses; the burden that he carries on his shoulders is that of a
very Atlas."
"Never mind, it is power, and power is always a delight!" said
Wildenrod, with flashing eyes.
The young man smiled rather sadly.
"To you, and very likely to my father, too--I am differently
constituted. I should prefer a quiet life, in a modest home, located in
such a terrestrial paradise as this delicious climate supplies; but it
is not worth while to talk; as an only son, it must one day devolve on
me to superintend the work at Odensburg."
"You are ungrateful, Dernburg! A good fairy endowed you, when in your
cradle, with a destiny such as thousands aspire to, with eager
longing--and I verily believe you sigh over it."
"Because I feel that I am not qualified for it. When I behold what my
father accomplishes, and reflect that one day the task will devolve
upon me, of filling his place, there comes over me a sense of
discouragement and timidity that I cannot control."
Wildenrod's eyes were fastened, with a peculiar expression upon the
diminutive figure and pale features of the young heir.
"One day!" he repeated. "Who cares now about the distant future. Your
father is still living and working in the plenitude of his powers, and
in the worst case he will leave you capable officers, who have been
trained in his school. So you will actually stay no longer at Nice? I
am sorry for that; we shall miss you a great deal."
"We?" asked Dernburg softly. "Do you speak in your sister's name also?"
"Certainly, Cecilia will be very sorry to lose her trustiest knight. To
be sure, there will be plenty to try and console her--do you know,
yesterday I had a regular quarrel upon my hands with Marville, because
I offered you the seat in our carriage, upon which he had surely
calculated?"
This last remark was apparently made carelessly, without any design,
but it had its effect. The young man's brow became clouded, and with
unmistakable irritation, he replied:
"Vicomte de Marville constantly claims a place by the Baroness, and I
plainly perceive that he would like to supplant me in her favor
altogether."
"If you voluntarily resign your vantage-ground--very likely. So far,
Cecilia has continually manifested a preference for her German
compatriot, and yet there is no doubt but that the amiable Frenchman
pleases her, and the absent is always at a disadvantage, especially
where young ladies are concerned."
He spoke in a jesting tone, as though no weight were to be attached to
his words, since he did not look upon the matter at all in a serious
light. This only made Dernburg more solicitous to come to an
understanding. He made no reply, he was evidently struggling with
himself, and finally began, unsteadily and with hesitation:
"Herr von Wildenrod, I have had something on my heart--for a long while
already--but I have not ventured until now----"
The Baron had turned and looked at him wonderingly. There lurked in his
dark eyes a half-mocking, half-compassionate expression, the look
seeming to say: "You have millions to offer and yet hesitate?" but
aloud he replied: "Speak out, pray; we are no strangers, and I hope
that I have a claim to your confidence."
"It is, perhaps, no longer a secret to you that I love your sister,"
said Dernburg almost timidly. "But allow me to say to you, that I
should account myself the happiest of men, if I could hope to win
Cecilia--that I would do everything to make her happy--may I hope?"
Wildenrod did not indeed affect any surprise at this confession, he
only smiled, but it was a smile that was full of promise.
"First of all, you must address your question to Cecilia herself. Young
ladies are rather self-willed on such points, and my sister peculiarly
so. Perhaps I am too considerate of her, and she is completely spoiled
in society now, how much so you saw for yourself again to-day, during
our ride on the Corso."
"Yes, I saw it," and the young man's tone showed deep depression, "and
just on that account, I have never before been able to find the courage
to speak of my love."
"Really? Well, then, I shall have to come to the help of your timidity.
It is true that our whimsical little princess is not to be counted
upon, but, to speak confidentially, I have no fear of your being
rejected by her."
"Do you really think so?" exclaimed Dernburg rapturously. "And how as
to yourself, Herr von Wildenrod?"
"I shall gladly welcome you as a brother-in-law, and see my sister's
happiness entrusted to you without a qualm of anxiety. My sole desire
is to see this child happy and beloved, for you must know that my
relation to her has always been that of a father rather than a
brother."
He extended his hand, which was grasped by the young suitor, and warmly
pressed.
"I thank you. You make me very, very happy by this consent, by the hope
that you give me, and now----"
"You would like to hear this consent spoken by other lips," said
Wildenrod, laughingly finishing his sentence for him. "I'll gladly give
you the opportunity to speak, but you must plead your own cause. I
allow my sister entire freedom to act as pleases her best. I think,
however, my blabbing has inspired you with courage, so venture boldly,
dear Eric."
He gave him a friendly nod, and went. Eric Dernburg also returned again
to the parlor, and his glance took in the quantities of flowers that
the servant had brought up and piled upon the table. Yes, indeed,
Cecilia Wildenrod was petted and spoiled as is the lot of few of her
sex. Again to-day how had she been overwhelmed with flowers and tokens
of homage! She had only to choose: dared he indulge the hope that her
choice would fall upon one like him? He had wealth to offer, but she
was rich herself, for her brother's style of living left no doubt on
that head, and moreover she came of an ancient and noble family. As he
thus pondered, the scale oscillated painfully. In spite of the
encouragement that he had received, the young man's face showed that he
feared just as much as he hoped.
Wildenrod, meanwhile, had passed through the adjoining apartment, and
now entered his sister's chamber.
"Ah, is that you, Oscar? I am coming directly. I only want to stick
another flower in my hair."
The Baron looked at the magnificent bunch of pale yellow roses that lay
half-loosened upon the dressing-table, and asked abruptly:
"Are those the flowers that Dernburg gave you?"
"Certainly; he brought them to me, when he came for the drive on the
Corso."
"Good! adorn yourself with them!"
"And I should have done so all the same without your most gracious
permission," laughed the young lady, "for they are the loveliest of
all."
She selected one of the roses, and held it, experimentally, against her
hair: there was an uncommon, but indeed very conscious, grace in this
movement: the slender girl of nineteen resembled her brother little, if
at all: at first sight they seemed to have nothing in common but the
dark color of their hair and eyes, otherwise hardly a feature betrayed
the nearness of their relationship.
Cecilia Wildenrod had that style of appearance which seems to have an
irresistible fascination for the opposite sex. Her features were more
irregular than those of her brother, but their mobility and variety of
expression gave them a peculiar charm that never wore out. Her dark
hair, that was so abundant as not to be always brought down to the
requirements of the latest fashion, and complexion, that was of the
clear brunette type, made one suspect that she could not be of purely
German origin; and from beneath long black eyelashes gleamed a pair of
lustrous eyes, that allured one who looked deeply into them with all
the fascination of a riddle to be solved. In these mysterious depths,
too, glowed a spark that might well be fanned into a flame; they, too,
having some of that glow of passion, which in Oscar's case was hidden
under a semblance of excessive coldness. This constituted the sole
resemblance between the brother and sister, but it was a resemblance
that stood for much.
Cecilia still wore the silk dress in which she had appeared on the
Corso, already a few pale yellow, half-open, rosebuds adorned her
bosom, and now she placed a full-blown rose among the dark waves of her
hair. Nature's adorning became her wondrously, and her brother's glance
rested upon her with evident satisfaction. He had closed both doors
carefully behind him, nevertheless he now lowered his voice and said in
a whisper:
"Eric Dernburg has something besides roses to offer you--his hand. He
has just had a talk with me, and is now going to address himself to
you."
The young lady likewise heard this news without any surprise.
She turned her head to one side, that she might see how the flower
looked in her hair, and asked with apparent indifference:
"So soon?"
"Soon? Why, I have been expecting a declaration from him this long
while, and he would have made it, too, only you seem to have given him
poor encouragement."
A fold appeared between Cecilia's brows, exactly in the same spot where
a deep furrow had seamed her brother's.
"If he were only not so abominably tiresome!" murmured she.
"Cecilia, you know that I am anxious for this marriage, exceedingly
anxious, and I hope that you will regulate your conduct accordingly."
His tone was very positive, seeming to preclude any chance of
opposition on the part of his sister, who now pushed away the rest of
the roses with a gesture of impatience.
"Why had it to be this Dernburg, and no one else? Vicomte de Marville
is much handsomer, much more agreeable----"
"But is not thinking of offering you his hand," interposed Wildenrod.
"He, just as little as all the other triflers who swarm around you. You
need not put on that injured air, Cecilia, you may rely implicitly upon
my judgment: I know men, I tell you, girl. Now this union with Dernburg
secures to you a brilliant destiny; he is very rich."
"Well, so are we, for that matter."
"No," said the Baron shortly and sharply.
The young lady looked at him in amazement: he stepped up to her and
laid his hand upon her arm.
"We are _not_ rich! I am obliged to tell you this now, that you may not
ruin your future prospects, through caprice or childishness, and I
confidently expect you to accept this offer."
Cecilia still looked at her brother, half shocked, half-incredulous,
but she was evidently accustomed to submitting to his will in silence,
and attempted no further opposition.
"As if I should dare to say 'no,' when my stern brother dictates a
'yes,'" pouted she. "But I can tell Dernburg one thing, he need not
flatter himself with the idea that I am going to bury myself with him
in that horrid Odensburg. To live among droves of day-laborers, at
those iron works, full of dust and soot--it makes me shudder just to
think of it."
"All that can be accommodated afterwards," said Wildenrod calmly. "As
for the rest, you have no idea what it is to be some day master of the
Odensburg works, and what a stand you will take in the world, by his
side. When you do come to comprehend the situation fully, you will be
grateful to me for the choice that I have made. But come, we should not
keep your future husband waiting any longer."
He took her arm, and led her to the parlor, where Dernburg was awaiting
them in restless suspense. The Baron pretended not to observe his
uneasiness, and chatted unrestrainedly with him and his sister about
their drive on the Corso, and various little incidents that had
occurred, until it suddenly occurred to him to admire the sunset, that
promised to be particularly beautiful this evening. He stepped out upon
the veranda, as if undesignedly, let the glass doors fall to behind
him, and thus gave the young couple an opportunity to be alone.
"Why, it looks just like a flower-market!" exclaimed Cecilia
laughingly, as she pointed to the table that was overladen with
bouquets. "Francis has, of course, piled them up with a reckless
disregard of taste: I must really arrange them better. Will you not
help me to do so, Herr Dernburg?"
She began to divide out the various sorts and put them in vases and
bowls, and with the remainder to decorate the hearth. Dernburg helped
her, but he was not a very efficient helper, for he could not take his
eyes off the slender form, flitting to and fro, in dainty garb, with
that lovely rose in her dark hair.
At the first glance, he had perceived that those were his roses that
she wore, and a happy smile played about his lips. He wondered if her
brother had already given her a hint? She was so free from
embarrassment, laughed so heartily at his absence of mind, and treated
him with the same pretty insolence as usual--she could not possibly
know that he meant to address her!
In Cecilia's manner, there was most assuredly nothing of the sweet
shyness and embarrassment of a young girl who, for the first time,
listens to the addresses of a lover. In fact, it hardly seemed that she
comprehended the seriousness of the situation. She would soon be twenty
years old, at which age girls in her circle often married or, rather,
were given in marriage, for their families usually decided the matter
for them. Individually, moreover, she had no objection to marrying. It
would be very pleasant to enjoy the freedom allowed a married woman, to
be wholly untrammeled as to expenditure in dress, jewels, etc., and to
be no longer obliged to submit to the will of a brother, who was at
times very despotic, only--how much handsomer and more agreeable was
Viscount de Marville than this Dernburg, who had not even rank to
recommend him. It was really outrageous, that a Baroness Wildenrod
would, in future, have to bear the name of a simple citizen!
She had just taken up the last bouquet, preparatory to decorating the
hearth with it, when she heard her name breathed softly but fervently.
"Cecilia!"
She turned around and met the gaze of Eric, who stood beside her, and
continued in the same tone:
"You have only eyes and thoughts for the flowers--have you not a single
glance for me?"
"Why, do you stand so much in need of that glance?" asked Cecilia
archly.
"Oh! how very much I need it! It is to give me courage for a
confession--will you hear it?"
She smiled and laid down the bunch of flowers that she held in her
hand.
"Why, that sounds quite portentous. Is it something so important?"
"No less than the happiness of my life, for which I look to you!"
replied Dernburg impetuously. "I love you, Cecilia, have done so from
the first moment that my eyes rested upon you. You must have known this
for a long while, could not help guessing it, but I always saw you so
surrounded by admirers, and so rarely obtained the least excuse for the
indulgence of hope, that I dared not press my suit. Now, though, that
the time for my departure draws near, I cannot go, without certainty as
to my fate. Will you be mine, Cecilia? I will lay everything,
everything, at your feet, gratify every wish, and all my life long
guard you as the most precious of treasures. Say one word, only a
single one, that shall give me hope, but do not say 'no,' for that I
could not stand."
He had caught both her hands, his face, commonly so pale, was now
suffused with a bright flush, and his voice quivered with emotion. This
was no stormy, passionate declaration, but each word expressed the
truest love, the fullest tenderness, and the young girl who had so
often been besieged by flattery and adulation, heard this tone for the
first time, and listened, half perplexed, half fascinated.
Cecilia had not supposed the quiet, bashful lover, whom she had often
treated with great disdain, capable of such a wooing, and as he now
went on, more tenderly, more urgently, the 'yes' pleaded for came at
last from her lips, rather hesitatingly, it is true, but without any
sign of repugnance.
In a transport of rapture, Dernburg wanted to fold his betrothed to his
heart, but she shrank back. It was an involuntary, half unconscious
movement of shyness, almost aversion, such as perhaps would have
wounded and chilled anybody else, but Eric only saw in it the sweet
modesty of the young girl, and while he still softly clasped her hands,
he whispered:
"Oh, Cecilia, if you did but know how I love you!"
There was no mistaking in his tone the genuine accents of devoted love,
and it did not fail to make its impression upon Cecilia, who now began
to realize that she had no right to be so reserved with the man to whom
she had plighted her troth.
"Well, then, you deserve that I should give you a little love in
return, Eric!" said she, with a charming smile, at the same time
suffering him to draw her to his side and imprint a first kiss upon her
lips.
Wildenrod was still standing out upon the veranda, and turned around
with a smile as the young couple approached him. Beaming with pride and
happiness, Dernburg led his betrothed up to him, and received the
congratulations of his future brother-in-law, who first embraced his
sister, then Eric.
Then there began a lively, cheerful conversation, out upon the balcony,
where the soft breezes of spring were still sporting. The dazzling
splendor of daylight was already breaking up into that gorgeous
blending of colors, as is only witnessed in the South, at sundown. The
city and surrounding heights were glorified, as it were, by the
resplendent sheen that glistened and sparkled like molten gold upon the
waves of the sea, and while the distant mountains were veiled in a
roseate mist, the sun itself, a fiery ball, sank lower and lower, until
it finally vanished from view.
Eric had slipped his arm around the waist of his betrothed, and
whispered into her ear tender and loving words. Irradiated with glory
as was the lovely landscape before them, so seemed the future to him,
by the side of that precious girl. Wildenrod stood apart, apparently
wholly absorbed in the contemplation of that magnificent spectacle, but
nevertheless, a deep sigh of relief escaped his chest, and while his
eyes flashed in triumph, he murmured, almost inaudibly: "At last!"