A BOUGH OF APPLE-BLOSSOMS.
"As I tell you, Miss Friedberg, the nerves are a mere habit, and one of
the worst of ones at that. Since the ladies have discovered nerves, we
doctors have been the most tormented people in the world. It may be a
right useful invention so far as husbands are concerned, but a hardened
bachelor like myself has not the least respect for it."
With these words Dr. Hagenbach closed a rather long harangue which he
had been giving in Miss Friedberg's chamber. Leonie, who looked pale
and worn, had called him in professionally, and in reply to his
questions had only repeated again and again that she was "through and
through nervous."
"I believe. Doctor, you are the only physician who denies the existence
of nerves," she said. "I should think science----"
"What science calls 'nerves' has my deepest respect"--she was
interrupted by Hagenbach. "But what ladies give out to be such, in
their stead, does not exist. Why do you not have yourself treated by
the city health-officer, who makes a profound bow to each nerve of his
patients, or by one of my young colleagues here in Odensburg, who also
advocates the thing, although with a certain timidity. If you give
yourself into my hands, there is no favor shown, that you know."
"Yes, I do know it!" she answered with some feeling. "And now may I ask
for your prescriptions."
"Which, of course, you have no mind to follow. But never mind that,
I'll use strict vigilance. In the first place, then, the air in your
room will not do, it is much too damp and heavy. Above all things, let
us open the window."
"I beg pardon," opposed Leonie with warmth. "A keen north wind is
blowing, which is more than I can stand."
"Wonderful air!" said Hagenbach, as, without paying any heed to her
objection, he proceeded to the window and threw open both casements.
"Were you out of doors yesterday?"
"No, we had a terrible rain-storm."
"Where were your umbrella and waterproof, I allow _them_
unquestionably. Follow your pupil's example--down yonder in the park
Miss Maia sails along quite merrily in the face of the storm, and that
tiny thing, Puck, sails along with her, although he is almost blown
away."
"Maia is young, a happy child, that knows nothing but laughter and
sunshine," said Leonie with a sigh. "She knows nothing yet of sorrow
and tears, of all the hard and bitter that is imposed upon us by fate."
As she spoke, her eye involuntarily sought the desk, above which a
large photograph took the main place on the wall. Some sweet yet
painful memory must have been linked to that picture, for it was
decorated by a mourning veil of black crape, and below it was a bowl
full of sweet violets, that seemed like a sacrificial offering.
That glance did not escape the doctor's sharp eyes. As though
accidentally he stepped up to the desk and began to inspect the
likenesses to be found there, while he dryly remarked:
"Every man has his troubles, but they are far better borne with
good-humor than with wailing and mourning. Ah! there is the picture of
the little lady--very like! And her brother by her side--remarkable,
that he does not resemble his father in the least. Whom does that
photograph represent?" He pointed to the picture draped in mourning.
This unexpected question seemed to embarrass Leonie, she blushed
faintly and answered with a somewhat unsteady voice:
"A--a relation."
"Your brother, perhaps?"
"No, a cousin--quite a distant relation."
"Ah, indeed?" drawled Hagenbach.
The remote relation seemed to interest him, he examined very narrowly
the features of the very pale and lank young man, with sleek hair and
eyes romantically upturned, and then continued in an indifferent tone:
"That face has a familiar look to me. I must have seen it before
somewhere."
"You are in error as to that." Leonie's voice quivered perceptibly. "It
has been long since he was counted among the living. He has lain in his
grave for years: the hot deserts of Africa."
"Heaven rest his soul!" said the doctor with provoking equanimity. "But
what took him to Africa and into the desert? Did he go as an explorer
perhaps?"
"No, he died a martyr to a holy cause. He had attached himself to a
mission to the heathen, and succumbed to the climate."
"I can only say he might have done a cleverer thing!"
Leonie, who had just carried her handkerchief to her eyes, overcome
with emotion, stopped, utterly shocked at his lack of feeling:
"Doctor!"
"Yes, I cannot help thinking so. Miss Friedberg. I deem it very
superfluous, in the first place, to be going away off to Africa to
convert the black heathen, while so many white heathens, are roving
around here in Germany, who know nothing of Christianity, although
they are baptized. If your cousin had preached the Word of God, as a
well-installed pastor to his own people----"
"He was not a minister, but a teacher," the angry lady managed to put
in.
"Never mind; then, emphatically, he should have taught the dear
school-boys the fear of God and flogged them into it, too, if needful.
Classes have little enough of that nowadays."
Leonie's face betrayed the indignation she felt at this mode of
expression, but reply was spared her, however, for at this moment came
a timid knock at the door, and immediately afterwards Dagobert entered,
but was hardly allowed to pay his respects to the lady; his uncle
calling out to him, in his threatening voice, just as soon as he laid
eyes on him:
"No English lesson to-day. Miss Friedberg has just declared that she is
'nervous through and through,' and nerves and grammar do not agree."
The young man must have valued this instruction highly, for he was
quite shocked at this announcement. But Leonie said most positively:
"I beg pardon, stay, dear Dagobert! Our English studies are not to
suffer from my bad feelings, we shall have our accustomed lesson. I'll
go for our books." So saying, she got up and went into the next room.
The doctor, with a vexed look, followed her with his eyes. "I never did
have such a contrary patient! Always the embodiment of contradiction!
Hark ye, Dagobert, you are tolerably well-informed--what sort of a man
is the one hanging yonder?"
"Hanging? Whore?" asked the horror-stricken Dagobert, while,
shuddering, he looked across at the trees in the park.
"Why, you need not be thinking directly of a rope," said his uncle. "I
mean that picture over the desk, with the crazy decoration of crape and
violets."
"It is a relative of Miss Friedberg, a cousin----"
"Yes, indeed, quite a remote one! She has told me that, too, but I know
she must have been engaged to him. Tiresome enough he looks to have
been. Do you know his name, perhaps?"
"Miss Friedberg told it to me once--Engelbert."
"So the man was named Engelbert, too!" cried the excited doctor. "The
name is just as sentimental as that unbearable face. Engelbert and
Leonie--they match splendidly together! How the two would have sat and
cooed together like a pair of turtle-doves!"
"He is dead, poor man!" remarked Dagobert.
"Was not of much account in life," growled Hagenbach, "and does not
seem to have had specially good nourishment either, before he hied him
to the desert. What a wretched woe-begone face it is! I must away now,
give my compliments to Miss Friedberg. Much satisfaction may you get
out of your 'nervous' English hour."
So saying the doctor picked up hat and cane and left. Ill-humoredly he
descended the stairs, that sentimental "man of the desert" seemed to
have thoroughly spoiled his temper. Suddenly he stood still.
"I have seen that face somewhere else, I stick to that, but strange--it
looked entirely different!"
With this oracular remark he shook his head with a puzzled look and
left the house.
The weather out of doors did not indeed look very inviting, being one
of those cold, stormy spring-days, such as occur so frequently in the
mountains. It is true the landscape no longer wore the bleak, wintry
aspect that it had done a few weeks before, the trees having already
decked themselves in fresh green, while the first flowers were
blossoming in the meadows and fields, but this blooming and growing
went forward only slowly, because sunshine was lacking.
Dark masses of cloud chased each other over the face of the sky, the
rustling tree-tops bent before the wind, but this did not trouble the
young girl, who, with light step, hurried forward on a narrow path
through the woods.
Maia knew, to be sure, that her father did not approve of her taking
such long walks unattended, but in the beginning she had confined her
stroll to the park-limits, then Puck darted across the meadows and she
after him, and then he went into the woods only a little distance, but
it was so beautiful there under the murmuring pines, it enticed her on
and on into the green solitude. What delight, to be, for once, so
entirely alone, running races with the barking Puck, as if for a wager!
Absorbed in this pleasure, Maia forgot entirely about the way back,
until rather rudely reminded of it.
The dark clouds, which had been already threatening the whole day long,
seemed finally to determine to fulfill their promise, for it began to
rain, at first softly, then harder and harder, until there poured such
torrents from the sky as accompany a regular thunder-storm.
Maia had taken refuge beneath a huge fir-tree, but found protection
there only for the moment. It did not last long, on account of the
dripping and trickling from every limb; she stood as though under the
eaves of a roof, and the heavens grew ever darker. It was no quickly
passing shower, so there was nothing for it but to run as fast as
possible to the little lodge, only a quarter of a mile away, that
offered a secure shelter. No sooner thought than done! The young girl
rushed along over stick and stone, on the wet mossy soil, between
dripping trees, finally, across a clearing in the forest, where wind
and rain assailed her with full force, until, at last, breathless and
thoroughly drenched, she found herself, with her four-footed companion,
in a dry spot where they could bid defiance to the storm.
This lodge belonged to the forestry equipment at Odensburg, but
was almost a half league from it, in the midst of the woods. In
winter-time, when deep snow had fallen, they fed the hungry game here
and also stored food for their cattle.
It was a small building constructed of boards and the trunks of trees
joined together, with a water-tight roof and two low windows, now in
the spring empty and unused, but a welcome place of refuge for the two
fugitives.
Maia shook herself, so that the drops splashed in all directions. The
rain had not hurt her waterproof at all, although it poured out of its
folds, but her pretty hat, which she now took from her head, was so
much the worse treated. The dainty thing, with its feathers and lace,
was now nothing but a shapeless mass, and Puck did not look much
better. His white coat was dripping, and its usually long silky hairs
were hanging down in wet strands, giving him such a comically
disconsolate look, that his young mistress laughed aloud.
"Only look, Puck! what a thing we have made of it!" said she in mock
despair. "Why were we not sensible enough to stay in the park! How we
do look, and how papa will scold! But you are to blame, you were the
first to run off to the woods. Thank God, that at least we have a dry
spot to sit in, else both of us would have been washed down to
Radefeld, and Egbert would have had to fish us out."
She hurled the utterly spoiled hat upon the low bench that lined the
wall on one side, seated herself and looked through the little window
out upon the tempest. The rain was still coming down in torrents, and
the wind howled around the lodge as though it would like to demolish
it. Return home at present was not to be thought of. Mala yielded to
the inevitable, drew the hood of her waterproof over her head, and
watched Puck, who had stuck his nose through the small opening made by
the door being left slightly ajar, and discontentedly followed with his
eyes the falling drops.
Just then there appeared on the verge of the forest a person, who stood
still for a moment and cast a searching glance around, but then started
at a running pace over the clearing, straightway to the forest lodge.
Now it was reached by the stranger, who was evidently likewise a
fugitive from the storm, with a bold leap he cleared the little lake
that had already been formed in front of the door, and kicked this open
so violently, the inquisitive Puck was driven back by the shock. But
then, with a loud bark, he rushed upon the intruder, who thus presumed
to contest the sole possession of the house with himself and his
mistress.
"Not so fierce, you little yelper!" cried the stranger, laughing. "Are
you the lord and master in this enchanted cottage, or is it that little
gray dryad cowering over yonder on that bench?"
He had stooped down to grasp the little animal, that quickly eluded him
and took refuge in the corner, whence was now heard a suppressed laugh
and a thin little voice saying:
"The dryad thanks you for your good opinion."
The stranger pricked up his ears; the answer showed him that it was no
child of a collier or peasant, as he had at first supposed, who was
crouched up there in the half-darkness of the ill-lit room. He gave a
sharper look, but the low-drawn hood allowed nothing farther to be seen
than a rosy little mouth, a pretty nose, and a pair of large brown
eyes, that now, in their turn, were surveying the intruder with
curiosity and astonishment.
He was a young man of about four-and-twenty years, with a handsome,
open countenance, brown wavy hair, and bright laughing eyes. The
weather had treated him ill, for he was without any waterproof: the
gray traveling suit that he wore was dripping wet, and when he pulled
off his hat, and waved it in salutation, the water fell from the brim
in little rivulets on the floor.
"Let me implore you," said he "to grant most graciously to a lost
traveler who has been caught in the rain, opportunity for a little
rest. I am really an ordinary mortal, and no water-sprite, as my
outward appearance would certainly lead you to suppose. May I come
closer?"
"Just stay where you are at the door!" sounded from out of the corner.
"Water-sprites and the little people of the wood cannot bear one
another you know, I suppose, from the fairy-tales."
"Is that so? Well, then, nothing is left for me, but to come forward
with all my human attributes, such as, name, rank, family, and other
earthly props. So: Count Eckardstein, lieutenant of infantry, brother
of the hereditary lord of Eckardstein, to which place I am now on my
way. At Radefeld I sent my carriage on ahead, in order to take that
beautiful walk through the Odensburg forests, when lo! these pitiless
clouds resolved to empty themselves on my devoted head. Thence come my
watery habiliments, laying me open to so vile a suspicion, but it is
the only fairy-like thing about me--may I regard myself as sufficiently
introduced?"
"I believe so. His native place, then, may be congratulated upon seeing
Count Victor again, after an absence of six years?"
The young Count started, and, despite the prohibition, impulsively drew
a few steps nearer. "Do you know me?"
"Dryads are all-knowing."
"But they do not remain invisible after they have once lowered
themselves to converse with mortals. Am I actually, then, not to be
permitted to see what is hidden under that gray wrap?" As he uttered
these last words, he made a new attempt to get a near look at the face
of that mysterious being, but in vain, for, a rosy little hand that
suddenly became visible, drew the hood down so low that nothing but the
tip of a nose could be discerned, and again sounded that low, mocking
laugh, that rippled like the twittering of larks.
"Guess, Count!"
"Impossible, how can I? I know nobody at Eckardstein or rather at
Odensburg, for we are still on Odensburg land."
He paused, as if waiting for an answer, but he only heard repeated
that:
"Guess!"
Count Victor perceived that he would not carry his point in this way,
but the clear laugh and voice betrayed to him the fact that it must be
a very young girl, who played "hide-and-seek" with him in this way.
There was a gleam of haughtiness in his eye, as, with a deep bow and
apparent earnestness he said:
"Indeed, I believe I do recognize now the voice and also the figure--I
have the honor of standing in the presence of the Honorable Miss Corona
Von Schmettwitz?"
This expedient served his purpose; quick as a wink the dryad suddenly
darted forth from her dark corner, the hood flew back, and while her
fair hair, released from confinement, flowed in rich light waves over
the gray mantle, there appeared also Maia's shapely head and sweet
innocent face, that, at this moment, indeed, was crimsoned by anger.
Corona von Schmettwitz, indeed! That forty-year-old canoness, with high
shoulders and grating voice! She to look so, indeed! She to talk that
way! She cast a withering look upon the Count.
He could have had no idea that the gray mantle concealed anything so
lovely, for, motionless, he gazed in blank astonishment upon the young
girl, whose bright appearance shone like a sunbeam in that gloomy
environment. At the first instant, he evidently did not recognize her,
but then a remembrance dawned upon him, and, almost shouting for joy,
he exclaimed:
"Little Maia!--I beg your pardon, Fräulein Dernburg, that was but a
memento of the days of our childhood!"
Maia laughed merrily. "Yes, then I wore short-clothes and long, long
plaits, by which you always used to hold me fast. But now I am angry,
Count, very angry--you took me for Corona von Schmettwitz."
"A stratagem of war, for which you must pardon the soldier. By no other
means could I have learned the truth. Or, do you seriously believe that
I could mistake you for that lady, whom even as a boy I used to stand
in such dread of, that I regularly ran away, when she was seen coming
to Eckardstein?--How, still angry with your brother's former
playfellow? He has often enough been yours as well."
"Yes, indeed, you did often condescend to play with 'little Maia,'"
pouted she, while she threw back her hair, that was not yet perfectly
dry. "The name is the only thing that you have retained."
"Yes, but I did retain something else," said the young Count slowly,
while his eye was riveted upon that lovely little face. "Else I should
not have immediately recognized you, when the gray mantle fell. At any
rate, I should have gone to Odensburg within the next few days. Eric is
at home, as I hear?"
"Yes, and he is engaged to be married! I suppose you have hardly heard
of that yet?"
"Yes, I got an announcement of his betrothal, and must present to him
my congratulations. I have, in general, so much to ask and hear, having
become almost an entire stranger at home, and now we just have time--"
"We have no time at all," cried Maia, with a glance at the still
half-open door. "Only see how it has cleared, and the rain has ceased.
I believe the storm is over."
Count Victor stepped to the door and examined the clouds, but with an
air that betrayed great disappointment. He had complained awhile ago of
the pitiless shower-bath to which he had been exposed, but now he
seemed to find the clearing up of the weather a greater infliction by
far.
"Yes, the rain has stopped, to be sure, but it will soon begin again,"
said he hopefully. "At all events, we must wait until the next shower
is over."
"Just to be shut up here for good by the rain?" remarked Maia. "No, I
mean to take advantage of the lull and run to Odensburg as fast as I
can. Come, Puck, let's run!"
"Then I'll run with you," laughed the Count. "So, Puck is the name of
the little white creature that wanted to deny me the hospitality of the
lodge. Come here, yelper, and let us make acquaintance."
Puck had scrutinized the stranger in the beginning with very critical
mien, and, evidently, had not yet made up his mind whether to treat him
as friend or foe, but now decided favorably. When the young man invited
him to approach, he trustfully came nearer, and allowed himself to be
stroked.
Thus the three set out sociably together on the way back. The rain had
certainly ceased, but the wind raged in full force while they crossed
the clearing, and after they had gained the shelter of the forest, the
swaying tree-tops performed a little after-piece that well represented
a driving rain, while such a dripping and drizzling came from every
branch! And the somewhat low-lying foot-path had been converted into a
running brooklet, so that Maia and her escort had to make their way
sideways over moss and the roots of trees. The forest-stream itself was
very much swollen, and had inundated the shore on both sides of the
high bridge. They had to attempt a passage, leaping from rock to rock.
In doing this Puck lost his balance, slid into the water, and howled
piteously because he could not swim in the vortex. Maia, who already
stood upon the bank, uttered also a shriek of anguish at sight of her
pet's distress, and Count Eckardstein jumped with both feet into the
water, seized the floundering creature, and brought it to his mistress,
who bestowed a grateful look upon the gallant rescuer. Finally, in the
middle of the woods, a wild apple-tree was discovered in full bloom,
which drew from the young girl a shout of rapture and gave the Count an
opportunity to display his skill as an athlete. But, alas! he was left
hanging to a bough from which he had broken a branch, and came to the
ground again, with a gaping slit in his sleeve.
It was a course full of adventure. The two young wanderers cheerfully
breasted the storm, laughed brightly when a gust of wind tore through
the trees, and sprinkled them freshly and heavily with rain, ever
good-humoredly they jumped and climbed over stones and stumps and
prostrate trunks of trees, always the better pleased the more
impassable proved the woods. There was an endless laughing and talking,
questioning and answering. All the old memories of childhood and youth
came trooping back as lively as ever. Gray mist was hovering closely
over the fir-trees, and dark clouds chased each other across the sky,
but over these two children of men arched the clear sunshine of youth
and happiness. What cared they for wind and weather!
At last the Odensburg park was reached, that almost immediately
adjoined the wooded mountain. Maia was just going up to the little
wicket-gate, through which she had gone out of bounds a few hours ago,
when it was suddenly opened and Oscar von Wildenrod excitedly
confronted her.
"But, Maia, how could you go out alone in such weather--?" He suddenly
broke off, and with marked surprise looked up and down her escort, of
whom he had just caught sight.
Maia, who had again drawn her hood over her head and hung her ruined
hat on her arm, laughed defiantly. "You thought, did you, that Puck and
I would have been drowned in that water-spout. No, here we both are,
safe and sound, and have even found company on the way. I believe you
gentlemen are not acquainted. Count Victor von Eckardstein--Baron von
Wildenrod, a connection of my brother Eric."
Wildenrod responded with a certain reserve to the friendly greeting of
the stranger, who said laughingly:
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Baron, although you find me in
this soaked condition. I am accustomed to be drier, I assure you, but
really I was not prepared for an introduction to-day. I only meant to
escort Fräulein Dernburg to the park-gate and then take my leave."
"Will you not stop long enough to see Papa and Eric?" asked Maia.
"No, no, Fräulein Dernburg, I should not like to appear before the
Dernburg family in such attire as this. But I am coming very soon--if I
may!"
As he spoke these last words, his eyes sought those of the young girl,
who coquettishly said: "Are you afraid that I shall forbid it you?"
"Who knows? Water-sprites and dryads do not agree, I had to hear a
while ago from your own mouth. Nevertheless, I shall venture it.
Meanwhile, I beg of you to accept this token of peace from me. You know
how hardly it has been obtained." With a slight bow he handed her the
blossom-laden bough, that he still carried in his hand.
Wildenrod listened silently, but he gazed fixedly upon the pair. The
tone of familiarity seemed to surprise him in the highest degree, and
upon the Count's now taking his leave, he only bowed his head with cool
civility, spoke a few words just as coolly, and then quickly followed
Maia into the park, letting the wicket gate slam to behind them.
"You seem to be very well acquainted with that gentleman," he remarked,
while they struck into the path leading to the house.
"Oh, certainly," answered his companion, without the least
embarrassment. "Count Victor used to be a playmate of Eric's, when they
were boys, and he used often enough to let me join in their sports. I
was very glad to meet him again after the lapse of six years."
"Ah, indeed!" said the Baron slowly. He turned around, and with a
peculiar glance scanned the form of the Count, who was just
disappearing between the trees, while Maia innocently chatted on:
"If I can only slip into my own room unobserved--Papa will be angry if
he sees me."
"Yes, indeed, he will scold," said Wildenrod with emphasis, "and I
should like to do the same. I had gone into the park to look for you
when that storm burst forth, and I heard from the gardener that you had
already been for an hour somewhere in the woods. How imprudent! Did you
not think how uneasy the people at home would be about you?--that I
would be distressing myself?"
The reproachful tone of this question called a bright blush to the
young girl's face. "Oh, that was altogether uncalled for. Here in
Odensburg every workman and child knows me."
"Never mind, you should never again venture forth so far without
attendance. You promise me this, do you not, Maia? And as a pledge that
you will keep your word, I ask this of you."
As though in sport, he caught at the blooming branch, but Maia looked
at him, half-shocked and half-indignant.
"My branch? No, why?"
"Because I ask you for it."
The request sounded like a demand, and this must have awakened Maia's
pride. With a decided gesture of repulse, she drew back a step.
"No, Herr von Wildenrod. I'll not give up my blossoms."
A flash of angry surprise shot from the Baron's eyes: he had not
believed the child capable of such decided opposition to _his_ will,
and it was precisely this that goaded him into having his way, at any
price.
"Do you attach so great value to it?" he asked, with bitter scorn. "The
Count seemed to do so too. Perhaps this 'pledge of peace' has some
secret significance for you both?"
"A jest, nothing more! Victor is an old playmate----"
"And I am a stranger to you! Is that what you would say, Maia? I
understand."
At these words, spoken with intense bitterness, the brown eyes were
lifted to his in a shocked and pleading manner. "Oh, no, Herr Von
Wildenrod, I did not mean that--Oh, certainly not."
"No? And yet you speak of 'Victor' and immediately grant him a renewal
of the former familiar relations. I have been, and still am, nothing to
you but 'Herr Von Wildenrod.' How often have I begged you to call me by
my first name, just for once. I have never yet heard it from your
lips."
Maia gave no reply, there she stood motionless, with glowing cheeks and
downcast eyes; but still she felt the fervent glance that rested upon
her.
"Is it so hard for you to give me a name, that the future family
connection has nevertheless the right to claim? Is it really so hard?
Well, I will be content to forego my claim when others are present, but
now, that we are alone, I must and shall hear it ... Maia!"
The delay of another second, and then it came, softly and tremblingly,
from her lips: "Oscar!"
A gleam of transporting joy lighted up the man's dark features, and he
made an impetuous movement, as though he would draw to his heart the
young girl who stood before him, shy and trembling. But he controlled
himself; only he seized and clasped firmly her quivering little hand.
"At last! And now that other, the second request."
"Herr Von Wildenrod----"
"The branch, Maia, which another gave to you, and which I, therefore,
_will_ not leave in your hands. Please give it to me?"
Maia resisted no longer. Powerless beneath the ban of those eyes and
that voice, she held out to him the blooming bough.
"Thanks!" said Oscar softly. It was only a single word, but it had the
sound of tenderness with difficulty restrained.
Now Miss Friedberg was seen at the open window of the house, which the
two were now approaching, and, with clasped hands, she expressed her
horror at seeing her pupil in such a plight.
"Maia, for heaven's sake tell me, have you actually been abroad in this
weather? How you do look! Be quick, take off that wet mantle--you will
catch your death of cold!"
"Yes, I should give her the same advice," said Oscar, smiling. "Quick,
quick, go in the house!"
The girl slipped off with a passing nod. Wildenrod slowly followed her,
but stood still in the garden-hall, and his brow darkened again as he
looked at the blossom-laden bough in his hand. For the first time he
realized that the success of his wooing might be imperiled by delay,
and yet he knew that he durst not speak as yet. He did not yet stand
firm enough in the favor of Dernburg, who could hardly be brought to
give up his darling to a man so much older than herself, without
further inducement, nor was he as yet sure even of Maia. An unwise word
here, spoken prematurely, might spoil everything. And just at this
crisis had to start up most provokingly this Count Eckardstein, who had
lost not a minute's time in laying claim to his old footing of the
familiar friend of childish days!
For a few moments Wildenrod stood lost in dark forebodings, then he
drew himself up with a jerk, and in his eyes again flamed proud,
triumphant self-confidence. Good--Maia was not to be won without a
struggle--he was not the one to shun it. How pusillanimous, to doubt
gaining the victory over that young coxcomb with his smooth face! Let
him beware of crossing his path!
At the window of her own room stood Maia, who had not yet laid off her
wet mantle, nor was even conscious that she still wore it. She gazed up
at the cloud-beleaguered sky, with a strange dreamy look upon her face,
and a slight, happy smile played about her lips.
Forgotten was the meeting in the forest-lodge, banished the form of her
old playmate--she only saw one thing--those deep, dark eyes, the look
that had woven such a spell upon her spirit, she only heard that
subdued voice, thrilling with restrained passion. It was a sweet,
disturbing dream,--a feeling, of which she did not herself know whether
it portended woe or bliss.