THE ARRIVAL.
A telegram had finally announced the arrival of the Meinecks by the
10.30 morning train at H----, the nearest railroad-station, tolerably
distant from Erlach Court.
It is almost noon; the captain and Freddy have driven over to the
station to meet the guests, and the rest of the family are on the
terrace outside of the dining-room. The hostess, dressed as usual with
puritanic simplicity in some kind of dark linen stuff, deliciously
fresh and smelling of lavender, is leaning back in a garden-chair,
diligently crochetting a red-and-white afghan for her little son's bed.
The general, in a very youthful felt hat adorned with a feather, is
chuckling in a corner over a novel of Zola's. Anastasia is fluttering
gracefully hither and thither, fancying the while that she looks like a
Watteau. In pursuance of her lamentable custom of wearing her shabby
old evening-gowns in the country in the daytime, she has donned a
much-worn sky-blue silk with dilapidated tulle trimming, and is
surprised that her faded splendour appears to fail to dazzle those
present.
"Life is pleasant here, is it not?" asks Katrine, looking up from her
crochetting at Rohritz, who faces her as he leans against the
balustrade of the terrace. "I am trying my best to induce my husband to
leave the service and retire to this place. He is still hesitating."
"Hm! Do you not think that for a man of his temperament existence at
Erlach Court would be a trifle monotonous?" is Rohritz's reply.
"He can occupy himself," Katrine makes answer, shrugging her shoulders.
"If I mistake not, you have rented the farm at Erlach Court?"
"Yes, thank heaven!" Frau von Leskjewitsch admits, with a smile.
"Farming is usually a very costly taste for dilettanti. But he has
entire control over the forests and the vineyards; they would give him
plenty to do; and then he is an enthusiastic horseman, and the roads
are very fine."
Rohritz is silent, and thoughtfully knocks off the ashes from his cigar
with the long nail of his little finger. He cannot help thinking that
Katrine Leskjewitsch, exemplary as she may be as a mother, has her
faults as a wife. Jack Leskjewitsch is not yet eight-and-thirty, and
she is prescribing for him a life suited to a man of sixty.
"It is certainly a pity to cut short his career," Rohritz remarks,
after a while, "especially since he passed so brilliant an examination
for advanced rank last year."
"Yes, his talent is indubitable," Katrine assents: "one would hardly
think it of him. He devotes but little attention to study, as I can
testify, and I certainly did not coach him, as did the wife of an
unfortunate captain who passed the same examination." The corners of
Katrine's mouth twitched. "What do you think was the end of the united
efforts of husband and wife? Two weeks after barely and laboriously
passing his examination the worthy man was a maniac. In fact, no fewer
than seven of my husband's fellow-students in that course lost their
reason. 'Tis odd how much ambitious incapacity one encounters in this
world! Jack does not belong in that category, however. He adores the
service, but he has not a particle of ambition."
All this is uttered with a seemingly woful lack of interest.
"'Tis a pity that she does not sympathize more fully with Les," Rohritz
thinks to himself; but all he says is, "And yet you would have him
relinquish his career?"
"A cavalry-man who looks forward to a career ought not to marry,"
Katrine maintains. "Probably you can recall the delights of a military,
nomadic existence for a family, particularly in those holes in Hungary.
Such hovels!--a stagnant swamp in front, a Suabian regiment installed
in the rooms, and no sooner have you got things into a civilized
condition than you have to break up to the sound of boot and saddle. In
one year I changed my abode three times. I could have borne it all so
far as I was concerned, but there was the child. Freddy became subject
to attacks of fever, so I bundled him up and brought him here. He
recovered immediately, and I wrote to my husband that he must choose
between his family and the army."
"That was to the point, at least," said Rohritz.
"Yes. He was apparently offended, and did not answer my letter for a
month. Then he was seized with a longing for--for the child. He
alighted in the midst of our solitude like a bomb at Sevastopol. Of
course we were charmed to see him, and he was so delighted with Erlach
Court that he was quite ready to turn his back on the service. I,
however, do not approve of hasty decisions, and so I advised him to
postpone his change of vocations----"
"His resignation of a vocation," Baron Rohritz interpolated.
"What a hair-splitting humour you are in today!" Katrine rejoined, with
a shrug, "to postpone for a while his resignation, if that pleases you.
So he obtained leave of absence for a year. Hm!--I am afraid he is
beginning to be bored. I cannot understand it. You must admit that we
are charmingly situated here."
"Indeed you are."
"The estate is in good order," Katrine went on, "and we have no
neighbours."
"A great advantage."
"So it seems to me. One of the most disagreeable sides of an army life
was always, in my opinion, the being forced into association with so
many unpleasant people. Most of my husband's comrades were very
agreeable, unusually kindly, pleasant men, but to be forced to accept
them all, and their wives into the bargain without liberty to show any
preference,--it was simply odious. I am a fanatic for solitude; the
usual human being I dislike; but you cannot throw everybody over,
however you may desire to do so,"--with a glance over her shoulder
towards Stasy and the general. "I beg you will make no application to
yourself of my remark."
"Much obliged." Rohritz bowed. "I confess I began----"
"No need of fine phrases," Katrine interrupted him. "You know I like
you. And in proof of it--you may have heard that we want to pass the
winter here; it will be delightful! entirely lonely,--shut off from
civilization by a wall of snow,--Christmas in the country,--the
children from three villages to provide with gifts,--the castle quite
empty, except for our three selves and Freddy! Well, in proof of my
genuine friendship I invite you to share with us this charming
solitude. Will you come? Say you will." Dropping her work in her lap,
she offers him both her hands.
"A curious creature! She treats me like an aged man, and moreover
considers herself sufficiently elderly to dispense with caution in her
intercourse with the other sex. An odd illusion for a woman still
extremely pretty," Rohritz thinks; and, occupied with these
reflections, he does not immediately reply.
"You decline?" she asks, merrily. "I shall not throw away such an
invitation upon you a second time."
"They are coming! they are coming!" Stasy exclaims, clapping her hands
childishly and tripping to and fro in much excitement.
"I do not hear the carriage," Katrine rejoins, looking at her watch.
"Besides, it is not time for them yet."
"But I hear something in the avenue---- Ah, please come, dear Edgar,"
Stasy entreats.
Rohritz does not stir.
"Baron Rohritz!" in an imploring tone.
"What can I do for you, Fraeulein Stasy?"
"Your opera-glass--be quick!" And, while Rohritz reluctantly rises to
go for the desired optical aid, Stasy lisps, "Not at all over-polite;
quite like a brother: just what I enjoy."
"It is they," Katrine exclaims. "The carriage is just turning into the
avenue. Let me have it for a moment,"--taking from his hand the glass
which Rohritz has just brought. "Yes, now I see them quite distinctly."
A few minutes later the rattle of approaching wheels is heard. The two
ladies and the general hasten down to receive the guests. Rohritz
discreetly withdraws to his apartment, and from behind his half-drawn
curtains watches the arrival. The carriage stops, the captain springs
out to aid two ladies to alight. At first Rohritz hears nothing but a
hubbub of glad voices, sees nothing but a confused group, the general
standing on one side with a polite grin on his face, and Freddy giving
vent to his joyous excitement by performing a war-dance around the
party.
When the situation at last becomes clear, he perceives a very handsome
old lady in a close black travelling-hat, a pair of blue spectacles
shielding her eyes from the dust, and wearing a dust-cloak which may
once have been black, while beside her--he adjusts his eye-glass in his
eye--assuredly Stella does not remind him of the 'hysterical tree-frog'
of frightful memory, but of some one else, for the life of him he
cannot remember whom. He looks and looks, sees two serious dark eyes in
a gentle childlike face beneath the broad brim of a Kate-Greenaway hat,
a half-wayward, half-shy smile, charming dimples appearing by turns in
the cheeks and at the corners of the mouth, a delicately-chiselled
nose, a very short and rather haughty upper lip, beneath which gleam
rows of pearly teeth, and for the rest, the figure of a sylph, rather
tall, still a little too thin, and with a foot peeping from beneath her
skirt that Taglioni might covet.
He looks and looks. No, Stella certainly does not remind him of the
'hysterical tree-frog,' but as certainly she recalls to his mind
something, some one--who is it? who can it be?
An unpleasant surmise occurs to him, but before it can take actual
shape in his brain the impetuous entrance of the captain has banished
it.
"Come to the drawing-room, Rohritz, and be presented to the ladies," he
calls out. "By the way, what means this wretched idea of which Stasy
informs me? She says that you are going back to Graetz immediately."
"The fact is, my lawyer has summoned me," Rohritz replies; "but--hm!--I
fancy the matter can be settled by letter. At any rate, I will try to
have it so disposed of."
"Bravo!"