A very picture of perfect serenity and peace of mind the couple
Hellinger senr. made, as they sat at the breakfast-table. Out of the
spout of the brass coffee-machine on the brightly-polished body of
which the fire-flames produced a purple reflection, there rose up thin,
bluish steam which sank down towards the table in little clouds, cast a
film over the silver sugar-basin and wreathed the coffee-cups with
delicate, tiny dewdrops.
Mr. Hellinger, with his snow-white, carefully trimmed beard, and
handsome, rosy, boyish face beaming with good nature and the pleasure
of living, was leaning back comfortably in the blue chintz armchair,
his Turkish dressing-gown pulled over his knees, and apparently
awaiting with calmest resignation whatever fate, in the shape of his
wife, might be about to bestow upon him.
She (his wife) was just throwing a pinch of soda into the little
coffee-pot, whereupon she circumstantially wiped her powdery fingers on
her white damask apron, which was edged in Russian fashion with broad
red and many coloured stripes. Her white matron's cap, the ribbons of
which were tightly knotted together like a chin strap under her fleshy
chin, had shifted somewhat towards the left ear, and from out its
frilly frame there shone, full of energy and enterprise, her coarse,
comfortable, sergeant-like face, whose features were rather puffed out,
as is often observable in old women who like to share their husband's
glass of brandy.
One could see that she was accustomed to rule and to subdue, and even
the smile of constant injured feeling that played about her broad mouth
went to prove how inconsiderately she was wont to carry through her
plans.
So that she might not sit unoccupied while waiting for the coffee to
draw, she took up her coarse woollen knitting, which, in her capacity
of president of the ladies' society and directress of the charity
organisation, was never allowed to leave her hands, and the needles ran
with remarkable rapidity through her bony, work-used fingers.
"Have you heard nothing from Robert, Adalbert?" she asked, with a hard
metallic voice, which must have penetrated the house to its last
corner.
The question appeared to be unpleasant to the old man. He shook his
head as if he would shake it off; it disturbed his morning
tranquillity.
"An affectionate son, one must say," she continued, and the injured
smile grew in intensity. "Since a week we have neither heard nor seen
anything of him; if he lived in the moon he could not come more
rarely."
Mr. Hellinger muttered something to himself, and busied himself with
his long pipe.
"It looks as if something were brewing again in that quarter," she
began anew; "he has altogether been so peculiar lately; come slinking
round me without a word to say for himself. It seems to me there is
some debt hanging over him again that he can't satisfy."
"Poor fellow," said the old man, and smacked his lips, perhaps to get
rid of the unpleasant idea by this means.
"Poor fellow, indeed!" she mocked him; "I suppose you pity him into the
bargain; perhaps even you have been helping him on the sly?"
He raised up his white, well-kept hands in protest and defence of
himself, but he had not the courage to look her in the face.
"Adalbert," she said, threateningly, "I make it a condition that such a
thing does not happen again. Whatever you give him, you take from us
and from our other children. And if at least he deserved it! but he
that will not hear advice must suffer. If he is ruined, with his
obstinacy and stubbornness----"
"Allow me, Henrietta," he interrupted her timidly.
"I allow nothing, Adalbert, my dear," replied she. "'He that will not
hearken to advice must suffer!' say I; and if through his abominable
ingratitude his poor mother, who is only anxious for his welfare, and
who bothers and worries herself whole nights through, thinking----"
With the many-coloured border of her apron she rubbed her eyes as if
there were tears there to be wiped away.
"But, Henrietta," he began again.
"Adalbert, do not contradict me! You know I close an eye to all your
follies. I allow you to sit as long as ever you like at the 'Black
Eagle'; I let you drink as much as ever you can do with of that bad,
expensive claret. I even put your supper ready for you when you come
home late though it is hardly necessary that you should on such
occasions upset three chairs, as you did yesterday. I consider
altogether that you have very little regard for the feelings of your
old and faithful wife. But--yes, what I was going to say is--that, once
for all, I will not have you meddle with my plans: as it is you
understand nothing of such matters. Have you, altogether, any idea of
all I have done already for that good-for-nothing Robert? I have run
about, and driven about, made calls, and written letters, and Heaven
knows what else. Five or six well-to-do--nay, very wealthy girls I
have, so to say, brought ready to his hand, any of whom he could have
had for the taking. But what did he do? Well, I should think you still
remember how I was seized with convulsions when, four years ago, he
arrived with that miserable, delicate creature, Martha? My whole
illness dates from then."
"But, Henrietta!"
"My dear Adalbert, I beg of you, do not again harp upon the same old
string about her being my own flesh and blood! If she wished to be a
loving and grateful niece to me, why did she not bring the necessary
dowry with her? She had nothing--of course she had nothing! My departed
brother died as poor as a church mouse. Is that fitting for one of
my family? But after all--he had a right to do as he liked with his
own--what business is it of mine? Only he need not have saddled us with
his daughter."
"Well, but she is dead now," remarked Herr Hellinger.
"Yes, she is dead," replied she, and folded her hands. "It were a sin
to say, thank God for that. But as our Lord has so ordained it, I will
at least profit by the circumstance, and endeavour to rectify his folly
of then. While you were sitting in the 'Black Eagle,' drinking your
claret, I was once more toiling and moiling and inquiring round, so
that he has but to pick and choose. There is Gertrude Leuzmann; will
get fifty thousand cash down and as much more when the old man dies.
There is that little von Versen; very young yet certainly--only just
confirmed--but she will get even more! And besides these, at least
three or four others! But what do you imagine he will say to it all?
'Mother,' he will say, 'if you start that theme again, you will never
more set sight on me.' Was ever such a thing heard of? He has only to
marry the second sister now in place of the other one, to bring his
good old mother to her grave! By the by where can the young lady be
to-day? It is nearly nine o'clock, and she has not yet appeared. In my
brother's Bohemian home it may very probably have been the fashion to
lie a-bed till noon; but in my well-ordered household, I beg to say,
most emphatically and politely, I will not have it, Adalbert."
"I cannot conceive, dear Henrietta," he said, "why you heap reproaches
upon me which are meant for your niece!"
"If only for once you would not take her part, Adalbert. But, of
course, there is nothing left for me to say. I am duped and betrayed in
my own house! However, I shall very soon put an end to the matter. I
have kept her here now for a whole year; now she begins to be very much
_de trop_."
"But does she not toll and moil in Robert's household from early morn
till late at night? Does a day pass on which she does not betake
herself to the manor farm? Do not be unjust towards her, Henrietta."
She gave him a pitying look.
"If you had not remained such a child, Adalbert, one might talk reason
to you. Don't you see that that is just where the danger lies? Don't
you imagine that she has her reasons for flaunting about every day at
the manor and for behaving herself as mistress there before him and the
servants? Ah--she--she is a deep one--is my niece Olga. Be sure she has
done her part towards getting him accustomed to the idea that she--and
she alone--has a right to the place of her dead sister. What else
should she be looking for, day after day, at the manor, if it is not
that?"
"I should think Martha's child is sufficient explanation."
"Of course, of course! Any nursery tale is good enough to impose upon
you! She knows exactly why she behaves as she does, and why she is
almost ready to eat up the poor little mite for very love. She knows
exactly how to find the way to its father's heart!"
"But perhaps she does not love him at all," old Hellinger interposed.
She laughed out loud.
"My dear Adalbert, a man who owns an estate just outside the town-gates
is always loved by a poor girl, and if I do not make an end now and
send her about her business, it may very possibly come to pass that our
dear Robert will take her by the hand one fine day and say to us,
'Here, papa and mamma, now be good enough to give us your blessing.'
And rather than live to see that, Adalbert----"
At this moment the sound of lumbering male steps was audible in the
entrance-hall; directly after these came a loud and violent knock at
the door.
"Well!" said Mrs. Hellinger, "some one is making a noise as if the
bailiffs were outside--we have not got as far as that yet." And very
slowly and deliberately she said, "Come in."
The old doctor stepped into the room. His hat sat awry at the back of
his head, his necktie hung loose over his shoulders, and his chest
heaved as with breathless running. He forgot his "Good-morning"
greeting, and only gave a wild, searching glance around.
"Good heavens, doctor!" cried Mr. Hellinger, senr., hastening towards
him, "why, you burst in upon us like a bull into a china-shop."
Mrs. Hellinger once more assumed her injured air, and muttered
something about pot-house manners.
When the old doctor saw the undisturbed breakfast-table and the
astonished, every-day faces of his friends, he let himself drop into
an armchair with a sigh of relief. Then it had not taken place after
all--this terrible thing! But next moment his fears took possession of
him anew.
"Where is Olga?" he faltered, and fixed his gaze on the door as if he
might see her enter there any moment.
"Olga?" said Mrs. Hellinger, shrugging her shoulders. "My goodness, she
probably will be here shortly. Are you in such a hurry?"
"God be praised!" cried he, folding his hands. "Then she has been down
already?"
"No--not so," remarked Mrs. Hellinger, "her ladyship thinks well to
sleep somewhat long this morning."
"For God's sake," he cried, "has no one looked after her? Does no one
know anything of her?"
"Doctor, what ails you?" cried old Hellinger, who was now beginning to
be alarmed.
The physician may at this moment have recollected the request with
which Olga's letter of farewell had closed. He felt that in this way
his desire to comply with her request would, from the very first,
become impossible, and made a last wretched attempt to preserve the
secret.
"What ails me?" he faltered, with a miserable laugh. "Nothing ails
me!--What should ail me? Confound it all!" And then, casting aside all
dissimulation, he cried out: "My God! my God! Thou hast permitted this
terrible thing! Thou hast withdrawn Thy hand from her." And he was
about to sink down weeping, but he once more gathered up all the energy
still remaining in his rickety old body, raised himself bolt upright,
and--"Come to Olga," he said, "and do not be terrified--however--you
may--find her."
Old Hellinger grew pale, and his wife commenced to scream and sob; she
clung to the doctor's arm, and wished to know what had happened; but he
spoke no further word.
So they all three climbed up the stairs leading to Olga's gable-room,
and in the entrance-hall the servants collected and stared after them
with great, inquisitive eyes.
Before Olga's door Mrs. Hellinger was seized with a paroxysm of
despair.
"You knock, doctor," she sobbed, "I cannot."
The old man knocked.
All remained quiet.
He knocked again, and put his ear to the keyhole.
As before.
Then Mrs. Hellinger began to scream:
"Olga, my beloved, my dear child, do open--we are here--your uncle and
aunt and old uncle doctor are here. You may open without fear, my
love."
The physician pressed the latch; the door was locked. He looked through
the key-hole; it was stopped up.
"Have the locksmith fetched, Adalbert," he said.
"No," cried Mrs. Hellinger, suddenly casting all sorrow to the winds,
"that I shall not permit--that will on no account be done. The disgrace
would be too great: I could never survive it--such a disgrace--such a
disgrace!"
The doctor gave her a look of unmistakable loathing and contempt. She
took little notice of it.
"You are strong, Hellinger," she said, "bear up against the door;
perhaps you may succeed in breaking the lock."
Mr. Hellinger was a giant. He set one of his powerful shoulders against
the woodwork, which at the first pressure began to crack in its joints.
"But softly," his wife admonished, "the servants are standing in the
entrance-hall. Be off with you into the kitchen, you lazy beggars!" she
shouted scolding down the stairs.
Down below doors banged. A second push----one of the boards broke right
through the middle. Through the splintry chink a bright ray of daylight
broke through into the semi-dark corridor.
"Let me look through," said the doctor, who now, in anticipation of the
worst, was calm and collected.
Hellinger broke off a few splinters, so that through the aperture the
whole room could be overlooked.
Opposite the door, a few paces removed from the window, stood the bed.
The coverlet was dragged up, and formed a white hillock behind which a
strip of Olga's light brown hair shone forth. A small portion of the
forehead was also visible--white as the bed-clothes it gleamed. The
feet were uncovered; they seemed to have been firmly set against the
foot end of the bed and then to have relaxed.
By the pillow, on a chair, lay her clothes neatly folded. Her skirts,
her stockings, were laid one upon the other in perfect symmetry, and on
the carpet stood her slippers, with their heels turned towards the bed,
so as to be quite ready for slipping into on rising.
On the marble slab of the pedestal, half leaning against the lamp, lay
a book, still open, as if it had been placed there before extinguishing
the light. Over everything there seemed to rest a shimmer of that
serene, unconscious peace which irradiates a pure maiden's soul. She
who dwelt here had fallen asleep yesterday with a prayer on her lips,
to awaken to-day with a smile.
After the physician had held silent survey, he stepped back from the
aperture.
"Put your arm through, Adalbert," he said, "and try to reach the lock.
She has bolted the door from the inside."
But Mrs. Hellinger squeezed herself up against the door, and with loud
cries implored her sweet one to wake up and draw the bolt herself. At
last it was possible to push her on one side, and the door was opened.
The three stepped up to the bedside.
A marble-white countenance, with lustreless, half-open eyes, and an
ecstatic smile on its lips, met their gaze. The beautiful head, with
its classic, refined features, was slightly bowed towards the left
shoulder, and the unbound hair fell down in great shining waves upon
the regal bust, over which the nightdress was torn. A white button with
a shred of linen attached, which hung in the buttonhole, was the only
sign that a state of excitement must have preceded slumber.
"My sweet one, you are sleeping, are you not?" sobbed Mrs. Hellingen
"Say that you are sleeping! You cannot have brought such disgrace upon
your aunt, your dear aunt, who cared for you and watched over you like
her own child." With that she seized the unconscious girl's pale,
pendant, white hand, and endeavoured to drag her up by it.
Her tender-hearted husband had covered his face with his hands, and was
weeping. The physician gave himself no time for emotion. He had pulled
out his instruments, pushed Mrs. Hellinger aside with scant politeness,
and was bending over the bosom, which with one rapid touch he entirely
freed of its covering.
When he rose up, every drop of blood had left his face.
"One last attempt," he said, and made a quick incision straight across
the upper arm, where an artery wound itself in a bluish line through
the white, gleaming flesh. The edges of the wound gaped open without
filling with blood; only after some seconds a few sluggish, dark drops
oozed forth.
Then the old man threw the shining little knife far from him, folded
his hands and--struggling with his tears--uttered a prayer.