ELECTION TIMES.
All the brightness had departed from the social life at Odensburg,
which had been so gay all the summer through, its center of attraction
being ever the young engaged couple. The family were still wearing the
first deep mourning for him who had been laid in the grave hardly two
months before, and the atmosphere in the house was as heavy and dull as
was the bleak foggy autumn day outside.
Only Maia made an exception. Dr. Hagenbach was right--at seventeen
years of age one weeps out one's grief and is then comforted even for
the loss of a beloved brother; and moreover here was a particular
comforter quite close at hand. Oscar von Wildenrod had, of course,
remained at Odensburg; and although there could be no talk now of a
public betrothal, yet the father had given his consent in due form.
Maia was infinitely lovely in her deep, quiet happiness, and in the
family-circle, where he needed not to be under restraint, he showed her
the tenderest attention and devotion. He seemed greatly altered; the
harsh features vanished more and more from his face, his whole nature
being softened under the influence of that budding happiness which
brought him to the goal of his desires.
Dernburg bore his grief for his son as he was accustomed to bear every
hard thing in life, composedly and silently, seeking his consolation in
that occupation, to which he gave himself up with greater zeal than
ever. Between him and his daughter-in-law Eric's death had unexpectedly
formed a close and tender tie. For, although the father had received
the betrothed of his son with cordiality, and treated her as a
daughter, yet in his inmost soul, he had never become really reconciled
to this union; the vain, haughty child of the world had always been a
creature apart from the man of strict duty. But the young widow, with
her grief passionately expressed at first, but afterwards changing to a
deep, settled melancholy, found a true father in him. From the moment
when he had folded her in his arms at Eric's bedside, she had held a
place in his heart.
He did not suspect, indeed, that this abandoned grief of Cecilia's was
only remorse--remorse over that hour when she had so strongly expressed
aversion for the husband, who was even then dying. She did not know the
worst either, namely, that it was those unfortunate words of hers that
had pronounced his death-sentence. Oscar had secured the silence of the
man-servant, who had seen Eric go upstairs and enter the fatal room,
and no one else was aware of the circumstance. But the young woman had
some foreboding of the coincidence, and took refuge with her father,
because she could not overcome a secret horror of her brother.
For that matter though, Dernburg had but little time now to devote to
his family, for, besides the usual burdens that he took upon his
shoulders now as ever, the impending election demanded his time and
strength in large measure. It was considered a matter of course in his
party that the prerogative of a seat in the _Reichstag_ which he had so
long exercised would this time, too, fall to his share, but they had
soon become convinced that, for the first time, the victory must be a
contested one, for their opponents were working under high pressure.
The circumstances required activity in all directions, and here
Dernburg found quite an unexpected prop in Oscar von Wildenrod.
With incredible celerity, he had made himself familiar with the
political situation, and his keen penetration, accompanied by sound
judgment, excited the admiration of others who had been in the midst of
these relations.
The Baron was everywhere that it seemed likely his presence could do
good: he took part in all mass-meetings and consultations, and went
into the campaign with the most ardent zeal. The quondam diplomat was
again launched on the open sea of politics, and it was no wonder that
every day increased his influence over Dernburg, whose very shadow he
became.
Finally the day arrived, when the last decisive battle was to be fought
at the polls. Unusual activity now prevailed in the building devoted to
the offices connected with the Odensburg works, which had commenced,
indeed, at an early hour in the morning. The lower floor contained the
hall usually devoted to lectures and all general assemblies: here all
the officials were to be found to-day, here telegraphic communications
were constantly coming from the city, and messengers from the country
districts, which gave, approximately, at least, the returns from the
polls. The commonly peaceful assembly-room looked like a camp in
war-time, the director forming its central figure: and a continuous
stream of messages was conveyed to the Manor.
It was not until the afternoon was considerably advanced that Dr.
Hagenbach came in, and was greeted with reproaches on the part of the
gentlemen present, because of his absence.
"Where in the world have you been hiding, Doctor?" cried the director,
in rather a fault-finding tone. "Here we have been sitting all day
immersed in care and anxiety, while, in all tranquillity of soul, you
have been visiting your patients and not pretending to show your face!"
"I cannot prevent people from getting sick and dying on election-day,"
said Hagenbach gravely. "I had to go to Eckardstein this morning, and
there they would have me stay, until all was over."
However much engrossed the gentlemen were by other things, this news
aroused universal interest.
"Is the Count dead?" asked the director in surprise.
"He died two hours ago."
"That is a sudden turn of fortune's wheel in Count Victor's favor,"
remarked the upper-engineer. "Yesterday a poor, dependent lieutenant,
and to-day proprietor of the great Eckardstein estate. Count Conrad had
not been exactly kind to his younger brother, I believe."
"No; but nevertheless he was as affectionate as possible, at the
last.--And now, gentlemen, I trust that I have apologized sufficiently
for my absence, and sincerely hope that I have not been sensibly
missed. How goes the reckoning? Well, I hope."
"Not so particularly well, either," muttered the upper-engineer. "The
reports from the country districts are satisfactory, but in town, the
Socialists evidently have the whip-hand of us."
"Well, we were prepared for that from the beginning," remarked Winning,
the chief of the technical bureau. "Odensburg gives the casting-vote,
and with that we are sure of a majority."
"If we can unconditionally calculate upon it--yes," said the director,
"but I am afraid----"
"What are you afraid of?" asked Hagenbach with a look of concern, as
the other broke off in the middle of his sentence.
"That we shall be in the minority here too. Runeck's hold upon the
people seems to be greater than we foresaw--signs of it, indeed, have
come to light just in the last hour."
"Runeck is a forcible speaker," said Winning, earnestly, "and his great
speech, recently, at the 'Golden Lamb' carried away his whole audience.
To be sure it did not reach his former level. He used to speak coldly,
with stern repose, but every word told--this time he stormed away like
a runaway horse, without method or aim."
"He was suffering anxiety about his election," mocked the
upper-engineer. "Yet there comes Helm; perhaps he brings something
important."
It was one of the younger officials who now entered and handed over a
telegram just received. The director opened and read it, after which he
silently handed it to the doctor, who stood at his side. He glanced
over it and then shook his head. "This is very disagreeable! So, in
town the victory of the Socialists is already decided! Read it,
gentlemen!"
The telegram went the rounds, while the director stepped to the
telephone, that connected the assembly-room with the Manor, in order to
report to the chief.
"Now the decision rests wholly and solely upon Odensburg," said the
upper-engineer. "At all events it was imprudent to dismiss that ranter
Fallner, immediately before the elections. It has made bad blood and
cost us hundreds of votes, perhaps. But Herr Dernburg was inexorable!"
"Was he to submit placidly to having this man prate against him in his
own workshops, setting them of his own household against him?" remarked
Winning. "Things of the kind have never been suffered at Odensburg, and
now would have been an example of unpardonable weakness."
"But I am afraid that we were only the victims of a party maneuver,"
persisted the other. "Fallner knew exactly what was before him--must
have known it--but he belonged to that new set, who do not lose much
if they go, so that he could afford to give himself to the venture. He
was to be dismissed, the affair was meant to stir up bad blood among
the people, for that it was planned. I represented all this to the
master--but in vain. 'I suffer no rebellion and no stirring up of
strife on my place. Let this be announced to the man at once.' Such was
his answer, and thereby he put weapons in the hands of his
adversaries."
Winning was silent, vexed that nobody would take him up, and contradict
his assertion. But the director, who now came back from the telephone
and had heard these last words, said significantly:
"If the matter would only end with our losing votes! I was told only
yesterday, that the workmen are being worked upon from all quarters, to
take up for Fallner and insist upon his being allowed to remain. If
they really do this, we shall have strife."
"But they will not do it, because they know the master," said Dr.
Hagenbach, mingling in the conversation. "He lets nothing be forced
from him, even though he should have to close all his works. Our men,
here, at Odensburg would be simply mad, if they allowed it to come to
that!"
"And though it were the maddest thing in the world, what care Landsfeld
and his crew for that?" exclaimed upper-engineer. "They want strife, no
matter at what price and what sacrifice. At the same time, I believe
that it was a mistake to dismiss Fallner. Alas! he is still here, and
does not leave the works until day after to-morrow. If the election is
lost, and passions consequently become aroused, we may live to get a
disagreeable surprise."
"Nonsense! You see ghosts!" scolded Winning; but the director said
gravely:
"I would that this day were past!" Over at the Manor, they waited the
returns from the elections with the same suspense, and in the master's
office there was almost as much commotion as in the building where the
director presided. Dernburg, indeed, took the arrival of reports and
telegrams, going and coming of officers and their announcements, with
his wonted calmness. For him it involved no mere question of ambition,
he sacrificed to his seat in the _Reichstag_, time and strength which
were needed in his calling, the want of which he sometimes felt now, at
the coming on of old age. He would willingly have resigned his seat to
a representative of his own way of thinking, but as things stood, the
victory of his party linked itself with his name, and, besides, it was
Odensburg that would decide his election. Thus this election was an
affair of honor with him.
Dernburg chanced to find himself alone with his daughter-in-law. That
young lady, looking grave and fair in her widow's garb, leaned against
the window. She had of late been admitted more and more to the
confidence of her father-in-law. He allowed her, at times, an insight
into the workings of his soul, that were else a sealed book: she alone
knew the reason why his brow was to-day so dark and lowering. It was
not solicitude lest he be defeated, which, for that matter, he hardly
deemed possible: no, the bitterness of this conflict lay for him in the
thought that his opponent was Egbert Runeck.
"Oscar is as much excited as if his own election were at stake," said
Dernburg, after he had once more read through his dispatches.
"It surprises me, too, to see my brother thus immersed in politics,"
replied Cecilia, with a slight shake of the head. "He used to care so
little about them."
"Because he kept aloof from his fatherland for so many years. I just
now begin to see what he is capable of, when field is given him for a
great activity."
"Oh, I believe Oscar can perform wonders, if he has a mind to, and he
_will_ begin a new life at Odensburg: he has promised me to."
These words sounded peculiar, almost like an apology, but Dernburg paid
no heed to this.
"I wish good luck to him and myself on that account," said he,
earnestly. "I candidly confess to you, Cecilia, that hitherto I have
entertained a certain prejudice against your brother, but it has passed
away; in these last days he has been the greatest comfort to me. For
this I want to thank him."
The young woman made no answer; she gazed out upon the gray, misty
October day that was now fast drawing to a close. It was already
twilight; the servant brought the lamp, and with it came Wildenrod and
Maia into the room. The Baron looked gloomy and excited. Dernburg
quickly turned to him.
"Well, how goes it, Oscar? What news do you bring? Nothing good. I see
from your countenance! Have new returns come in?"
"Yes, from the city. Our fears have been confirmed, the Socialists have
gotten the majority there."
"Ah, indeed!" cried Dernburg hotly. "It is the first time that they
have accomplished that. We shall soon, however, dampen the joy of their
triumph with the half of our Odensburg votes!"
Cecilia's glance sought her brother's with a timid expression, and his
features betrayed that he did not share this confidence. There was also
a certain hesitation in his voice as he answered:
"Odensburg certainly has the deciding word, and it will, I hope, be
spoken for us. Nevertheless, we must prepare for any possibility----"
"But not the possibility of my workmen leaving me in the lurch,"
remarked Dernburg. "Once for all, I cannot believe such a thing of my
men. Possess your soul in patience, Oscar, you are marked for a novice
by your feverish uneasiness. As for the rest, the election must be over
directly."
He got up, but the way in which he paced up and down the room,
looking ever and anon at the clock, proved that he was by no means so
cold-blooded, as he would have them believe. Then his glance fell upon
Maia, who had almost shyly entered the room and immediately joined her
sister-in-law, and he stood still:
"My poor little girl has been quite frightened today," said he,
compassionately. "Yes, bad politics! It engrosses us men to the
exclusion of everything else. Come to me, my Maia!"
Maia flew to her father and nestled up to him. Her voice sounded very
dejected, as she replied:
"Ah, papa, I understand so little of political affairs. I am very much
ashamed of it sometimes."
Dernburg smiled and tenderly stroked the fair hair of his darling. "You
are not to bother your young head about such grave affairs, my child.
You can safely commit that to Oscar and me."
"But I shall be obliged to learn some time," said Maia with a heavy
sigh. "Cecilia has learned, too. Ah, papa, I am jealous of Cecile. You
have quite closed your heart to everybody else; you consult her about
everything, while I am always shoved aside as a silly little thing."
"How abominable of me!" sportively returned Dernburg, at the same time
casting an affectionate glance upon his daughter-in-law. The latter
smiled, but it was a melancholy, joyless smile.
"I almost believe Maia is put out with me, too, because I have had so
little time to give her to-day," said Oscar, stepping up to his
betrothed and taking her hand.
"Yes, to-day you have no thought but for dispatches and
election-returns," pouted the young girl. "I really do not comprehend,
why you are all in such anxiety and excitement. Papa will be elected as
he always is!"
"I think so too," said Dernburg, with calm confidence.
"Well, then, everything is going on right and we need not worry
ourselves about it," declared Maia, shaking her wise head indignantly.
"That tactless Egbert, indeed, gives papa a great deal to do. Everybody
is talking about him and----"
"Silence on that score, Maia!" interposed her father abruptly and with
an air of displeasure. "The name of Engineer Runeck is daily forced
upon me in the political arena, but I do not wish to hear it mentioned
in my family. His relations with us are forever at an end!"
The girl ceased, intimidated by the unwonted tone, and a long silence
ensued. Time slipped by, but the looked-for tidings still tarried.
Finally the servant entered and spoke a few whispered words to the
Baron, who got up quickly and went out. In the dimly-lighted hall he
found the director and Winning, who awaited him there.
"Do you wish to speak with me, gentlemen?" asked Wildenrod quickly.
"What brings you?"
"Something unpleasant, alas, Baron," began the director hesitatingly,
"_very_ unpleasant! Herr Dernburg will have to be prepared for a severe
disappointment."
"What does that mean? Have you received the expected returns?"
"Runeck is elected!" said the director in a low voice. "Three quarters
of the Odensburg votes were for him."
The Baron turned pale and his hand doubled up convulsively.
"Incredible! Unheard of!" he gasped. "And the country-districts? Our
forges and mines? Have you heard from there already?"
"No, but they can make no alteration in the main result. Runeck has won
in the city and Odensburg; that is enough to ensure to him the
majority. Here are the numbers registered."
Wildenrod silently took the paper from the hands of the officer, and
read the notices through: they agreed--the election was decided, in due
form, against Dernburg and his party.
"We did not dare to break this news to the Master abruptly," said
Winning. "He is not at all prepared for it. Perhaps you'll undertake
it, Baron? He will have to learn the truth; in a half hour all
Odensburg will have the news."
"I'll communicate it to him," said the Baron, as he folded the paper up
and put it in his pocket. "But, one thing more, gentlemen! It is just
possible that when this result of the election gets abroad
manifestations may be attempted, that, in this case, will be a direct
insult to our chief. That mad crew, drunk with victory----" here all
his vexation broke through the self-restraint, that he had heretofore
with difficulty maintained. "Any attempt at demonstrations of rejoicing
will be suppressed with the greatest severity, no matter what comes of
it. We have no longer any motive to consider them, and they shall be
made to feel this." With a haughty nod, he left.
The two officers looked at one another, and finally the director said,
with a depressed air: "I wonder who is properly our chief now,--Herr
Dernburg or Baron Wildenrod?"
"The Baron, it would seem," answered Winning, irritably. "He gives
orders independently, and orders, too, that may entail the most serious
consequences. These demonstrations are bound to come. Fallner and his
adherents are already seeing to that----"
It was no enviable task that Wildenrod had undertaken. When he again
entered Dernburg's room, he was received with the impatient question:
"What was that message about, pray? They are not tormenting us now
about other things, I hope--we really have no time for them. But I
cannot understand the meaning of this obstinate silence over at the
other house. They should have got the news by this time, at least in
part, and still not a word do they send us."
"The news has already come, as I have just learned," replied Wildenrod.
"How is that? Why is the announcement delayed then?"
"The director and Winning wanted to bring it over in person. They came
to me----"
Dernburg started; for the first time a foreboding of ill darted through
his soul. "To you? Why not to me? What are those men thinking of?"
"They wanted to transfer to me the duty of making the revelation," said
the Baron, with bridled excitement. "The officers did not dare to
approach you with it themselves."
Dernburg changed color, but firmly drew himself up to his full height.
"Has it come to their wanting to act a comedy with me? Out with what
you have to say!"
Wildenrod looked at the man who confronted him so coldly and
wrathfully. It was impossible to delay longer. "Runeck has won the
victory in town----" he began.
"I know that! What else?"
"And in Odensburg as well."
"In Odensburg?" repeated Dernburg, looking at the speaker as if he had
not taken in his meaning. "My workmen----"
"Have for the most part voted for your opponent, Runeck is elected."
A half-suppressed shriek rang through the apartment; it came from
Cecilia's lips. Maia looked anxiously upon her father; so much she
comprehended, namely, that a terrible blow was inflicted upon him by
these tidings, Dernburg did not speak and did not stir. A dismal
silence ensued. Finally he held out his hand for the paper that
Wildenrod had drawn out of his pocket.
"You have the electorial returns?"
"Yes, here they are."
Dernburg approached the table, in order to read, always preserving his
rigid composure, but as he stood there, in the full light of the lamp,
he looked deadly pale. Motionless, he gazed at the numbers that spoke
their relentless message. At last he said coldly: "Quite right.
Three-quarters of the votes are for him, and me they have cast
overboard. It is regular treachery--an unparalleled deserting of one's
colors. To be sure when one has been digging and delving for months--my
deputy was in a place of trust, having full access to the people, and
well knew how to turn the situation to----"
"Your magnanimity, your unlimited confidence is to blame for it all,"
remarked Wildenrod. "You knew the designs, the connections of this man,
and notwithstanding, let him again set foot upon your soil. He wisely
profited by this to secure constituents for himself. Now, he had only
to beckon, and crowds flocked to his standard. You gave him the rights
of a son--behold the return he makes you this day!"
"Oscar, for heaven's sake desist!" implored Cecilia softly. She saw and
felt that each one of his words fell like corroding poison into the
soul of the man, whose heart was as deeply wounded as his pride.
But Oscar could not use forbearance toward his hated adversary, and
continued with increasing warmth:
"Runeck will triumph and he has every reason to. This is a brilliant
victory that he has won, to be sure, and over whom? That he gained it
over you, that alone makes him a famous man. And in this hour the
result of the election will be known in Odensburg--they will have a
celebration, vaunting their candidate, and rejoicing until the sound of
their shouts will be heard at the Manor-house, and you will have to
listen to them----"
"I shall do no such thing!" declared Dernburg with vehemence, retiring
a step. It was evident that the poison was taking effect, the man was
extremely provoked. "The people have used their right to vote--well, I
shall use mine as a householder, and know how to protect myself against
insults. Any demonstrations, whatever following upon this election will
be suppressed. The director must take the proper measures; tell him so,
Oscar!"
"It has already been done. I foresaw your order, and gave the needful
directions. I thought that I could be responsible in this case."
On any other occasion, Dernburg would have considered an interference
of the sort without his knowledge as an unwarrantable piece of
presumption; now, he only saw in it an evidence of solicitude and did
not think of censuring.
"It is well," answered he shortly.
"Represent me for to-day, if you please, Oscar; I can see nobody
now--go, then, and leave me alone!"
"Papa, let me, at least, stay with you," pleaded Maia in touching
entreaty; but for this once her father did not reciprocate her
tenderness, but gently put her away.
"No, my child, not even you! Oscar, take Maia with you--I want to be by
myself."
Oscar whispered to his betrothed a few words, and then led her from the
room. The door closed behind them, and now, when Dernburg believed
himself to be alone, his with difficulty maintained composure forsook
him. He pressed his clinched fists to his temples, a groan heaved his
chest. He did not feel at this moment the humiliation of the defeat;
there was something in his grief nobler than mortified ambition.
Deserted by his workmen, whose gratitude he believed himself to have
earned through a thirty years' course of fatherly kindness to them!
Given up for the sake of another, whom he had loved like an own son,
and who now thanked him in this fashion! His unflinching fortitude gave
way under this blow.
Then he felt how two arms were thrown around his neck, and starting up
he perceived his son's young widow, whose pale, tearful countenance met
his gaze with an expression that he had never seen in it before.
"What means this, Cecilia?" asked he roughly. "Did I not tell you I
wanted to be alone? The others have gone----"
"But I am not going," said Cecilia with quivering voice. "Repulse me
not, father! You took me in your arms and pressed me to your heart in
the hardest hour of my life; now that hour has come to you, and I want
to share it with you."
Then the stolid bitterness of the horribly excited man broke down, and
he did not again reject her sympathy. Silently he drew Cecilia to his
bosom, and as he stooped over, a glowing tear fell upon her forehead.
She shuddered slightly, stung by remorse--she knew for whom that tear
was shed.