VI.

"Forgive me, sister, for invoking from the grave your transfigured

shade. In remembrance of the deep love you bore me, of the warmth with

which my heart beat for you, suffer it, if I attempt to expiate the

guilt that weighs so heavily upon me, and whose yoke I must drag along

with me to the end of my days! Let me once more live through all the

love and kindness you bestowed upon me, and in the memory thereof

forget the horrors of loneliness that, like the breath of your tomb,

chill my very bones.

"What a fool, what a wicked creature I was, to feel lonely while you

yet dwelt on earth! Your love was the very air that I breathed! Your

smile was the sunshine that animated me, your comforting, exhorting

words were like the voice of God within us, to which we hearken

reverently without understanding. And how did I thank you, sister? I

grew a stranger to you--in sorrow and misery I have to think of you,

and the consciousness of guilt appals me when the soughing wind

whispers your name in my ear. Between us there stands a wild phantom

with flaming eyes--terrible and distorted, its hair encircled by

snakes--stretching out its claw-like hands towards me, and separating

me from you for ever. If it were no phantom, but flesh and blood, if

what I committed were a sin, a crime, I would wrestle with it, I would

overcome it with the last strength of my failing energy, or allow

myself to be strangled in its bloody grip. But it is intangible, it

melts away into empty air--a spectre that mocks me, a mist that clouds

my reason, and by its poison is slowly destroying me. A wish!

"A wish--it is nothing more!

"I wonder if you recognised it? I wonder if it was reflected in your

dying gaze? I wonder if at your bedside, when you, good, noble soul,

gave up the last breath of a life that was all love, you saw this

spectre--a spectre born of envy and ingratitude, which I--miserable

creature--dragged into your pure habitation?

"If I had still my lisping childish beliefs, I would pour out the

wretchedness of my soul before God, the Great and Merciful; but there

is no one on earth or in heaven to take pity on me, none but your

glorified image.

"Woe is me!--that, too, turns away from me. Weeping, it veils itself,

when yonder demon approaches my soul! And yet, was it not human to feel

as I did? Why are we not heavenly bodies, void of desire, pure and

ethereal? Why are we born of dust, why do we cleave to dust, eat dust

and return to dust when we have thrown off this great fraud of life?

The great fraud of my life I will write down here--the fraud towards

myself--towards you, and towards a third as well, who was pure and

good--and who yet was the cause of it all.

* * * * *

"I was a quiet, lonely child.

"He who is always surrounded by love, and who has never known anything

but love, often learns most easily to suffice to himself. And yet in my

heart, too, there lay an inexhaustible store of love. I squandered it

on dumb creatures, petted the dogs, kissed the cats, and hugged the

geese. One of my passions was to play in the stable: there I lolled

about on the soft, warm straw, under the very hoofs of my special pets,

that never did me any harm; or I climbed into the manger, where I could

sit for hours and gaze lovingly into my friends' great brown eyes. But

my favourite place was in the dog-kennel. There they often found me

asleep at midday, and it was no easy matter to get me out again: for

Nero, who was as a rule so quiet and good, showed his teeth to any one,

even to his master, who came within reach of his chain on such

occasions. My tender affection extended also to the vegetable kingdom.

The rose-trees appeared to me like enchanted princesses, whose fate I

bitterly bewailed; the sunflowers were Catholic priests in full

canonicals, and the dahlias Polish maidservants with red head-dresses.

Thus I succeeded in assembling around me in the garden the whole human

world, and found the counterfeit presentment preferable to the

original, for it submitted in silence when I ordained its fate.

* * * * *

"The estate that my father had rented was the old feudal possession of

a Polish magnate, which lay close to the Prussian frontier, on a hill

whose one side sloped down gradually in a weed-grown park towards

barren fields, while the other dropped down precipitately towards a

rivulet, on whose opposite bank lay a dirty little Polish frontier

village.

"When one stood on the brink of the precipice one looked down upon the

tumble-down shingle roofs, through the crevices of which smoke issued

forth, and could see right into the midst of the wretched traffic of

the miry street, where half-naked children wallowed in the gutter,

women crouched idly on the doorsteps, and the men in ragged fustian

coats trooped, with their spades on their shoulders, towards the

alehouse.

"Verily there was little that was attractive about this small town, and

the rabble of frontier Cossacks, that trotted to and fro sleepily on

their cat-like nags, did not enhance its charms. But yet, to my

childish eyes, it was enveloped in inexpressible glamour, the sensation

of which creeps over me even to-day, when I picture to myself how,

bewitched by all these wonderful visions, I sat for hours motionless on

the grass, and stared down upon the throng in which the figures were no

larger than the wooden dolls in my box of toys.

"I had been forbidden to go down, nor had I any desire to do so, since

I had once been almost crushed to death between two wheels in the crowd

of the weekly market to which my father had taken me.

"It was only delightful when from up there, raised high above the dirt

and screaming, one could gaze down upon this world of ants, which

seemed so tiny that, like the Creator Himself, one could command it

with a look, but which grew larger and larger, and assumed weird, giant

proportions the more one attempted to penetrate into it.

* * * * *

"It is remarkable that just of those persons who were most closely

connected with me throughout my life, I have preserved but a vague

recollection as they were at that time. Possibly because later

impressions effaced these earliest ones.

"My father was a small, sturdy man, of thick-set stature, with

close-cut black beard and hair, clad in high, brightly blacked boots,

and a greyish-green shaggy jacket, who laughed at me when he saw me,

gave me a friendly slap on the back, or pinched my arm, and then was

gone again. He was always busy, poor papa; as long as he lived I never

saw him give himself a moment's rest.

"Mama was then already very stout, was constantly eating sweet-stuff,

and loved her afternoon nap; but she, too, was at work from morning

till night, though she only reluctantly betook herself from place to

place, and did not like one to hang on to her, or to bother her with

questions.

"At that time another member of the family was Cousin Robert, who had

been sent over by our Prussian relations to learn farming from papa; a

big fellow, broad-shouldered and thick-necked, with fair tufts of

beard, which I was wont to pull when he took me on his knee to instil

the A B C into me by means of bent liquorice sticks. I think we were

always good friends, though he probably was no more to me than the

other articled pupils; for his picture, as he was then, has become

hazy, exactly like all the others.

"Only one scene do I remember distinctly, when on a summer evening he

had caught hold of Martha by her fair plaits and was racing after her,

laughing and screaming, through the yard, and the house, and the

garden.

"'What are you up to with Martha, you rascal?' cried papa to him.

"'She has been vexing me,' he answered, without letting go of her,

while she kept on screaming.

"'When I was your age I knew better how to revenge myself on a girl,'

laughingly said papa, who always liked to have his little joke.

"'Well, how?' he asked.

"'Oh, if you don't know that yourself!' replied papa.

"'One just gives her a kiss. Master Robert,' said an old gardener, who

happened to be passing with a watering-can.

"Then I can see him yet, how he suddenly let the plaits drop from his

hands, stood there suffused with blushes and did not know where to

look. Papa shook with laughter and Martha ran off as fast as she could.

When I tried her door, she had locked herself in. Not till supper-time

did she put in an appearance again. Her hair hung in disorder over her

forehead, and beneath it she looked out dreamily and scared.

"When, to-day, I compare the pale, thin, little suffering face that

fills my whole soul, with yonder rosy, chubby, roguish countenance as

it gleams upon me sometimes from my earliest childhood, I can hardly

realise that both can have belonged to one and the same being.

"How her long fair plaits fluttered in the wind! With what precocious,

housewifely care her eyes scanned the long table where we all sat

together, with apprentices and inspectors, waiting to be filled--a

whole collection of hungry mouths. And how lustily each one helped

himself, when, with her merry smile, she offered the dishes.

"Now only do I begin to understand what a pilgrimage of suffering she

had to make, now that I am myself preparing for the long, sad journey,

at the end of which a lonely grave awaits me, more lonesome even than

hers.

"In those days I was a child and looked up unsuspectingly to her, who

became my teacher when she herself had hardly put off childish ways.

"It was at that time that our affairs began to take a downward course.

Papa had to struggle against debts; failure of crops, and floods--for

three years in succession--destroyed any hope of improvement, and

monetary cares gathered thicker and thicker around our home.

"In the household everything not absolutely necessary was dispensed

with, our intercourse with the neighbouring estate owners was

restricted, and even the old governess who had educated Martha and was

now to have fulfilled her mission upon me, had to leave the estate.

"Martha, who was seven years older than I and just preparing to grow

into her first long dress, stepped into her place. In this way, purely

sisterly relations could not grow into existence between us. She was

the protectress and I was the ward, until after we exchanged our

_roles_.

"I may have been about fourteen years old, when it struck me for the

first time that Martha had strangely altered in manner and appearance.

I ought, indeed, to have noticed it before, for I was accustomed to

look about me with open eyes, but in the slow monotony of everyday life

one easily overlooks the destruction that sorrow and time are working

around us.

"Now I took heed, and saw her face grow thinner and thinner, saw that

the colour faded more and more from her cheeks, and that her eyes sank

deeper and deeper into dark hollows. Nor did she any longer sing, and

her laugh had a peculiar tired, hoarse sound that hurt my ears so, that

I was sometimes on the point of calling out to her 'Do not laugh!'

"At the same time she began to sicken; she complained of headache and

spasms, and only with difficulty dragged herself about the house. Then,

of course, papa and mama were bound to notice her condition too; they

packed her up in warm wraps, and, in spite of her remonstrance, drove

with her to Prussia to consult a doctor. He shrugged his shoulders,

prescribed steel pills and advised a change of air.

"Something else, too, he must have advised, which greatly disturbed my

parents, at least papa; for mama, since a long time already, was not to

be roused from her phlegmatic composure. When she dreamily gazed out

into the distance, he often looked at her askance, shook his head,

sighed, and slammed the door after him.

"But however much she might be suffering, she would not give up her

work. As long as I can remember, I have never seen her idle even for a

moment. As a child already she stood with her lesson-book at the

cooking-stove, or had an eye on the wash-kitchen, while she wrote her

German composition. Since she was grown up, she combined the duties of

my instruction with all the cares which a large household imposes upon

its manager. Mama had quite retired in virtue of her age, and allowed

her to do and dispose as she pleased, if only the _compotes_ and other

dainties won her approval.

"I, who was spoilt beyond measure by everyone in the house, was ashamed

of my inactivity, and endeavoured to take a part of the responsibility

off Martha's shoulders; but with gentle remonstrance she dissuaded me.

"'Leave that, child,' she said, stroking my cheeks; 'you happen to be

the princess of the house, you had better remain so.'

"That hurt me. I could bear anything rather than to be repulsed, when I

came with my heart full to overflowing of generous resolves.

"One evening I saw her crying. I slunk out into the garden and fought a

hard battle. I almost choked with my longing to help, but I could not

so far conquer myself as to go up to her and put my arms consolingly

about her neck. When I lay in bed, my desire to comfort her came upon

me with renewed force; I got up, and in my nightdress, just as I was, I

slipped out into the dark corridor.

"For a long time I stood outside her door, trembling with cold and with

fear, and with my hand on the door-knob. At last I took heart and crept

in softly.

"She knelt before her bed with her head pressed into the pillows. She

seemed to be praying.

"I stopped at the door, for I did not venture to disturb her.

"At last she turned round, and at sight of me started up abruptly.

"'What do you want?' she stammered.

"I clung to her, and sobbed fit to soften the heart of a stone.

"'Child--for Heaven's sake--what is the matter with you?' she cried.

"I was incapable of uttering a word. She, in her motherly way, took a

large woollen shawl, wrapped me in it, and drew me down upon her knee,

though I was then already bigger than she.

"'Now confess, my darling, what ails you?' she asked, stroking my face.

"I gathered up all my strength, and hiding my face upon her neck, I

sobbed, 'Martha--I want--to help--you.'

"A long silence ensued, and when I raised up my face I saw an

unutterably bitter, sorrowful smile playing about her lips. And then

she took my head between her hands, kissed my brow and said:

"'Come, I will put you to bed, child; there is nothing the matter with

me--but you--you seem to be in a perfect fever.'

"I jumped up: 'For shame, that is horrid of you, Martha,' I cried; 'I

will not be sent away like this. I am not ill, nor am I so stupid that

I cannot see how you are pining away, and how each day you gulp down

some new sorrow. If you have no confidence in me, I shall conclude that

you do not wish to have anything to do with me, and all will be over

between us.'

"She folded her hands in astonishment, and looked at me.

"'What has possessed you, child?' she said, 'I do not know you thus.'

"I turned away and bit my lips defiantly.

"'Come, come, I will put you to bed,' she urged again.

"'I don't want--I can go alone,' I said. Then she seemed to feel that a

word of explanation must be vouchsafed to the child.

"'See, Olga,' she said, drawing me down to her, 'you are quite right, I

have many a sorrow, and if you were older and could understand, you

would certainly be the first in whom I should confide. But first you

too must learn to know life----.'

"'What more do you know of life than I?' I cried, still defiantly.

"She only smiled. It cut me to the heart, this half-painful,

half-ecstatic smile. A dull dawning presentiment awoke within me,

such as one might experience in face of closed temple gates or distant

palm-wafted islands. And Martha continued:

"'Till then, however--and that will be long!--I must bear what

oppresses me alone. Hearty thanks, sister, for your good intention; I

would love you twice as much for it, if that were possible; and now go,

have your sleep out, we have much to learn to-morrow.'

"With that she pushed me out of the door.

"Like an exile I stood outside on the landing and stared at the door

which had closed behind me so cruelly. Then I leant my head against the

wall and wept silently and bitterly.

"Martha was henceforth doubly kind and affectionate towards me, but I

would not see it. I grew reserved towards her, as she had been towards

me, and deeper and deeper the bitter feeling became graven on my soul

that the world did not require my love. Of course it was not this one

occurrence alone which acted decisively upon my disposition. Such a

young creature as I was, is too easily carried away by the tide of new

impressions to be lastingly influenced by a few such moments; and, as a

matter of fact, it was not long: before I had forgotten that evening.

But what I did not forget was the idea that no one dwelt on earth who

was willing to share his sorrows with me, and that I was thrown back

upon myself and my books until such day as I should be declared ripe to

take part in the life of the living.

"Deeper and deeper I dived down into the treasures of the poets, of

whom none drove me from his holy of holies. I learnt to feel wretched

and exalted with Tasso; I knew what Manfred sought on icy Alpine

snowfields; with Thekla I mourned the loss of the earthly happiness I

had enjoyed, of the life and love that I had out-lived and out-loved.

But, above all, Iphigenia was my heroine and my ideal.

"Through her my young, lonely soul was filled with all the charm of

being unintelligible; it seemed to be the mission of my life to go

forth like her upon earth as a blessed priestess, sublimely void of

earthly desire; and if to this end I might have donned yon white

Grecian robes whose noble draperies would so splendidly have suited my

early-developed figure, my bliss would have been complete.

"Outwardly I was in those years an obstinate, supercilious creature,

who was lavish with rude answers, and fond of getting up from table in

the middle of a meal if anything did not suit her taste.

"In spite of all this--or perhaps just for this reason--I was petted by

all, and my will, in so far as a child's will can be taken into

account, was considered authoritative by the whole house. At fifteen I

was as tall and as big as to-day, and already there was found here and

there some gallant squire's son who would say that I was much, much

better looking than all the others, especially than Martha. That made

me indignant, for my vanity was not yet fully developed.

"'About that time, I dreamt one night that Martha had died. When I

woke, my pillows were wet through with tears. Like a criminal on that

day I crept round my sister. I felt as if I had some heavy offence

against her on my conscience.

"After dinner she had gone to lie down for a little on the sofa, for

she was suffering again from her headache; and when I entered the

room and saw her waxen-pale face with closed eyes, hanging across the

sofa-ledge, I started as if struck.

"I felt as if I really saw her already as a corpse before me.

"I dropped down in front of the sofa and covered her lips and brow with

kisses. Quite radiantly she opened her eyes and stared at me, as if she

saw a vision; only as consciousness returned did her face grow serious

and sad, as before.

"'Well, well, my girl, what is the matter with you?' she said. 'This is

not your usual behaviour!'

"And gently she pushed me away, so that once more I stood alone with my

overflowing heart; but as I was slinking away she came after me, and

whispered---

"'I love you very much, my darling sister!'

"On the evening of the same day I noticed that she constantly kept

smiling to herself. Papa was struck by it too, for as a rule it never

occurred. He took her head between his two hands, and said--

"'What has come over you, Margell? Why you are blooming like a flower

to-day.'

"Then she blushed a deep red, while I secretly clasped her hand under

the table, and thought to myself, 'We know very well what makes us so

happy.'

"Next morning papa came to the breakfast-table with an open letter in

his hand.

"'A strange bird is about to fly into our nest,' he said, laughing;

'now guess what his name is!' And with that he looked quite peculiarly

across at Martha. She appeared to me to have grown even a shade paler,

and the coffee-cup which she held in her hand shook audibly.

"'Has the bird been in our nest before?' she asked slowly and softly,

and did not raise her eyes.

"'I should think so indeed!' laughed papa.

"'Then it is--Robert Hellinger,' she said, and sighed deeply, as if

after a hard effort.

"'Upon my word, girl, you _are_ one to guess.' said papa, and shook his

finger at her.

"But she was silent, and walked from the room with slow, dragging

steps--nor did she appear again that morning. For my part I kept pretty

cool over our cousin's approaching visit. His image of former days, as

it dimly hovered in my memory, was not such as to inspire a romantic

imagination of fifteen years with ardent dreams for its sake.

"But Martha's behaviour had struck me. Next day, in the early morning,

I heard her walking up and down with long strides in the guest-rooms.

"I followed her, for I was anxious to know what she was busying herself

about in these usually closed apartments.

"She had opened all the windows, uncovered the beds, let down the

curtains, and now in her wooden shoes was running amidst all this

confusion from one room to the other. Her hands she held pressed to her

face, and kept laughing to herself; but the laugh sounded more like

crying.

"When I asked her, 'What are you doing here, Martha?' she gave a start,

looked at me quite confused, and seemed as if she must first think

where she was.

"'Don't you see--I am covering the beds.' she stammered after a while.

"'For whom, pray?' I asked.

"'Don't you know we are going to have a visitor?' she answered.

"'I suppose you are awfully pleased at the prospect?' I said, and

slightly shrugged my shoulders.

"'Why should I not be pleased?' she replied, 'It is our cousin.'

"'And nothing more?' I asked, shaking my finger at her as I had seen

papa do the day before.

"Then she suddenly grew very grave, and looked at me with her big, sad

eyes so strangely and reproachfully that I felt how all the blood

rushed to my face. I turned away, and as I could no longer keep up my

superiority, I slunk out of the door.

"From this moment Cousin Robert caused me many a thought. It seemed

clear to me that the two loved each other, and seized by the mysterious

awe with which the idea of the great Unknown fills half-grown children

of my age, I began to picture to myself how such a love might have

taken shape. I ran through the wild-growing shrubs of the park, and

said to myself, 'Here they enjoyed their secret walks.' I slipped

inside the dusky arbours, and said to myself, 'Here in the moonlight

was their trysting-place.' I sank down upon the mossy turf-bank, and

said to myself, 'Here they held sweet converse together.' The whole

garden, the house, the yard, everything that I had known since the

beginning of my life suddenly appeared resplendent in a new light. A

purple sheen was spread over all. Wondrous life seemed to have awakened

therein. I had so completely absorbed myself in these phantasies, that

finally I believed that I myself had lived through this love. When I

saw Martha again I did not dare to raise my eyes to her, as if I

cherished the secret in my bosom and she were the one who must not

guess it.

"But next morning when I reflected that Martha had positively

experienced everything that I after all had only dreamt about, I felt

quite awed by the thought, and from out of a dark corner I contemplated

her fixedly with shy, inquiring looks, as if she were a being from some

strange world.

"I was well aware that every five minutes she found something to busy

herself about on the verandah, from whence one could look across

towards the courtyard-gate; but to-day I took good care not to put any

pert questions to her. Now I felt like a confidante--like an

accomplice. It was a beautiful clear September day. Over woodland and

meadow was spread a rosy veil, silver threads floated softly through

the air, the river carried a cover of vapour, and far and wide it was

as silent as in a church. I went into the wood, for I could never have

excess of solitude to satiate myself with dreams. In the birch-trees

faded leaves already rustled; the bracken drooped like a wounded human

being that can barely keep upright.

"I grew very sad. 'Now there will be a great dying,' I said: 'ah, that

one might die too!'

"And then I remembered what I had heard and read in derision of

sentimental autumn thoughts. 'For shame, how wicked!' I thought. 'They

shall not deride me, for I shall know how to conceal myself and my

feelings. It is no one's business what I do feel. And for all I care

they may think me cold and heartless, if only I have the consciousness

that my heart beats warmly and full of love for mankind.'

"Yes, that was a delightful, foolish day, and blissfully would I

sacrifice what yet remains to me of life, if it might once more be

granted to me. In the evening--I can see it all as if it were to-day

the windows stood open, the tendrils of the wild vine swayed in the

breeze, and from the distance a stamping of hoofs, a clashing of lances

and swords greeted my ears. I could see nothing, for the darkness

devoured it all, but I knew that it was a band of Cossacks patrolling

along the frontier ditch. And then I closed my eyes and dreamt that a

troop of knights were coming riding along at full speed--led by a fair,

handsome prince, mounted on a milk-white charger. But I was the

chatelaine sitting in the turret-room of the old castle, and the fame

of my beauty had penetrated to every land, so that the prince had set

forth surrounded by a company of picked horsemen, to seek me out and

ask my hand in marriage of the old nobleman my father.

"And then I remembered Martha; and whether, as the elder, she would not

be preferred. But she loves her Robert, I comforted myself, she wants

no prince. And then I pictured to myself what I would give to each

member of my family when I had mounted the throne: to Martha wonderful

jewellery, to papa an iron chest full of gold, and to mama a box of

pine-apple sweets.

"The clashing of lances died away in the distance--and my dream was at

an end.

* * * * *

"Next day he came.

"When the carriage that brought him rolled in at the courtyard gate,

Martha was busy in the kitchen. I ran to her, and beaming with pleasure

I whispered into her ear, 'Martha, I believe he is here.' But she

forthwith apprised me that I was not her confidante. She looked at me

vaguely for a time, then asked absently, 'Whom do you mean?'

"'Whom else but our cousin?'

"'Why do you tell me that in a whisper?' she asked. And when, in

answer, I shrugged my shoulders, she once more took up the kitchen

spoon she had put down, and went on stirring.

"'Is that the extent of your pleasure, Martha?' I asked, while I

contemptuously pursed my lips.

"But she pushed me aside with her left hand and said, more passionately

than was her wont, 'Child, I beg of you, go!'

"And thus it came about that I received Cousin Robert in her stead.

"As I stepped out on to the verandah, he was just alighting from his

carriage.

"'He does not look much better than papa,' that was my first thought. A

great strong man like a giant, with broad chest and shoulders, his face

sun-burnt, with little blue eyes in it, and framed by a shaggy beard,

such a beard as the 'lancequenets' used to wear.

"'Only the chin-strap is wanting,' I thought to myself.

"He came jumping up the steps laughing towards me.

"'Well, good morning, Martha!' he cried.

"And then suddenly he stopped short, measured me from head to foot and

stood there, half-way up the stairs, as if petrified.

"'My name is not Martha, but Olga!' I remarked, somewhat dejectedly.

"'Ah, that accounts for it!' he cried, shaking with laughter, stepped

up to me and offered me a red, horny hand, quite covered with cracks

and weals.

"'What an uncouth fellow!' I thought in my own mind. And when we had

entered the room he looked me up and down again and said, 'You were

quite a little thing yet, Olga, when I went away from here; now it

seems like a wonder to me that you should be so like Martha!'

"'I like Martha,' thought I, 'when was I ever in the least like

Martha?'

"'But no,' he continued, 'she was not so tall, and her hair was fairer,

and she did not stand there so haughtily--and--and--did not make such

serious eyes.'

"'Ah, good Heavens,' thought I, 'you first look into Martha's eyes!'

"At this moment the kitchen door opened quite, quite slowly, and

through a narrow aperture she squeezed herself in. She had not taken

off her white apron. Her face was as white as this apron, and her lips

trembled.

"'Welcome, Robert!' she said softly behind his back, for he had turned

towards me.

"At the first sound of her voice he veered round like lightning, and

then for about a minute they stood facing each other without moving,

without uttering a word.

"I trembled. For two days I had lain in wait for this moment, and now

it fell so wretchedly short of my expectations. Then they slowly

approached each other, and kissed. This kiss too did not satisfy me. He

could not have kissed _me_ differently; 'only that he did not attempt

that at all,' I added mentally. And then they both were silent again.

My heart beat so wildly that I had to press both hands to my bosom.

"At last Martha said, 'Won't you take a seat, Robert?'

"He nodded and threw himself into the sofa-corner so that all its

joints creaked. He looked at her again and again, then after a long

time he remarked, 'You are very much changed, Martha!'

"I felt as if he had given me a slap in the face.

"An unutterably sad smile played about Martha's lips.

"'Yes, I suppose I am changed,' she then said.

"Renewed silence. It seemed as if a long time were necessary for him to

put a thought into words.

"'Why did I never hear that you were ailing?' he began again at length.

"'That I do not know.' she replied, with bitter affability.

"'Could you not write to me about it?'

"'Are we in the habit of writing to each other?' she asked in return.

"He gave the table an angry shove.

"'But if one is not well--then--then--'; he did not know how to

proceed.

"I pressed my fists together. I should so have liked to finish his

sentence for him.

"'Never mind.' said Martha, 'one often knows least one's self when one

is not well.'

"'I should think one ought to know that best one's self,' he replied.

"'What if one does not think it worth while to take any notice of it?'

This time she spoke without bitterness, modestly and quietly as she

always spoke, and yet every word cut me to the quick.

"('Oh, Martha, why did you repulse me?' a voice within me cried.)

"And thereupon she broke into a short laugh, and asked how things were

at home, and whether uncle and aunt were well.

"'First I should like to know how my uncle and my aunt are,' he said,

and looked into the four corners of the room.

"I was so glad to see the strained mood giving way, that I burst into a

loud laugh at his comical search.

"Both looked at me in astonishment as if they only just remembered my

presence.

"'And what do you say to our child?' asked Martha, taking my hand in

motherly fashion, 'does she please you?'

"'Better now already,' he said, scrutinising me, 'before, she was too

stiff for me.'

"'I could hardly put my arms round your neck at once?' I replied.

"'Why not?' he asked, smiling complacently, 'do you think there is no

room for you there?'

"'No,' said I, to let him know at once how to take me, 'that room is

not the place for me.'

"He looked at me quite taken aback, and then remarked, nodding his

head--

"'By Jingo, the little woman is pretty sharp.'

"I was going to reply something, but at that moment papa entered the

room.

"At table I constantly kept my eye on the two, without however being

able to notice anything suspicious.

"Their eyes hardly met.

"'Afterwards when the old people are taking their nap,' I thought to

myself, 'they are sure to try and make their escape.' But I was

mistaken. They quietly remained in the sitting-room, and did not even

seem anxious to get me out of the way. He sat in the sofa-corner

smoking, she, five paces away at the window, with some needlework.

"'Perhaps they are too shy,' I thought, 'and are waiting till an

opportunity presents itself.' I marked a few signs and slipped out.

Then for half an hour I crouched in my room with a beating heart and

counted the minutes till I might go back again.

"'Now he will go up to her,' I said to myself, 'will take her hands and

look long into her eyes. "Do you still love me?" he will ask; and she,

blushing rosy red, will sink with tear-dimmed gaze upon his breast.'

"I closed my eyes and sighed. My temples were throbbing; I felt more

and more how my fancies intoxicated me, and then I went on picturing to

myself how he would drop on his knees before her and, with ardent

looks, stammer forth glowing declarations of love and faithfulness.

"I knew by heart everything that he was saying to her at this moment,

no less than what she was answering. I could have acted as prompter to

them both. When the half-hour was over, I held counsel with myself

whether I should grant them a few moments longer. I was at present

their fate and as such I smilingly showered my favours upon them.

"'Let them drain their cup of bliss to the last drop!' said I, and

resolved to take a walk through the garden yet. But curiosity

overpowered me so that I turned back half-way.

"Softly I crept up to the door, but hardly did I find courage to turn

the handle. The thought of what I was about to see almost took my

breath away.

"And what did I see now, after all?

"There he still sat in his sofa-corner as before, and had smoked his

cigar down to a tiny stump; but in her embroidery there was a flower

which had not been there before.

"'Why do you shrug your shoulders so contemptuously?' asked Martha, and

Robert added, 'It seems I do not meet with her ladyship's gracious

approval.'

"'So,' thought I, 'for all my kindness I get sneers into the bargain,'

and went out slamming the door after me. That same night, I, foolish

young creature that I was, lay awake till nearly morning, and pictured

to myself how I, Olga Bremer, would have behaved had I been in the

place of those two. First I was Robert, then Martha; I felt, I spoke, I

acted for them, and through the silence of my bedroom there sounded the

passionate whisperings of ardent, world-despising love.

"As things were much too straightforward to please me, I invented a

number of additional obstacles--our parents' refusal, nocturnal

meetings at the frontier trench, surprise by the Cossacks,

imprisonment, paternal, maledictions, flight, and finally death

together in the waves; for only hereby, so it seemed to me, could true

love be worthily sealed and confirmed.

"When I got up in the morning my head whirled, and yellow and green

lights danced before my eyes.

"Martha clasped her hands in horror at my appearance, and Robert, who

was sitting again for a change in a sofa-corner, and once again sending

forth clouds of smoke all around, remarked--

"'Have you been crying or dancing all night?'

"'Dancing,' I replied, 'on the Brocken, with other witches.'

"'One positively cannot get a sensible word out of the girl,' he said,

shaking his head.

"'As you cry into the wood,' replied I.

"'Oh! I am as still as a mouse already,' he remarked, laughing, 'else I

shall get such a dish of aspersion to begin the day with, as I have

never swallowed in all my life.'

"Martha looked at me reproachfully, and I ran out into the park where

it was darkest and hid my burning face in the cool mass of leaves.

"I was near crying.

"'So this is my fate,' I moaned, 'to be misunderstood by the whole

world, to stand there alone and despised though my heart is full of

passionate love, to wither unheeded in some corner, while every other

being finds its companion and stills its longings in an ardent

embrace.'

"Yes, I had so vividly pictured to myself Martha's love that I had

finally come to think myself the heroine of it.

"Thus, of course, disenchantment could not fail to come.

"And if only the two had made some further effort to keep pace with the

flights of my imagination! But the longer Robert remained in our house,

the more I watched Martha's intercourse with him, the more did I become

convinced that all interest was unnecessarily wasted upon them.

"She--the type of a timid, insipid, housewife, subject to any fatality

of every-day life.

"He--a clumsy, dull, work-a-day fellow, incapable of any degree of

emotion.

"In this strain I philosophised as long as the bitter feeling that I

was unnoticed and superfluous wholly filled my soul. Then there came an

event which not only disposed me to be more lenient, but also gave a

new direction to my ideas about this stranger cousin.

* * * * *

"It was on the fourth day of his visit when he unexpectedly stepped up

to me and said:

"'Little one, I have a request to make to you. Will you come out for a

ride with me?'

"'What an honour,' replied I.

"'No, you must not begin again like that,' said he, laughing, though

annoyed. 'We will try for once to be good comrades just for half an

hour. Agreed?'

"His cordiality pleased me. I gave him my hand upon it.

"As we rode out of the courtyard gate Martha stood at the kitchen

window and waved to us with her white apron.

"'See here, Martha,' I thought in my mind, 'this is how I would ride

out into the wide world with him if I were his paramour.'

"For my ideas as to what a 'paramour' is were as yet very vague, and I

did not hesitate to ascribe this dignity to Martha.

"'He rides well.' I went on thinking; 'my prince could not do better.'

"And then I caught myself throwing myself back proudly and joyously in

my saddle, swayed by an undefined sense of well-being that made all my

nerves tingle.

"He said nothing, only now and again turned towards me and nodded at me

smilingly, as if he thought well to secure our compact anew every five

minutes. It was needless trouble, for nothing was further from my

thoughts than to break it.

"When we had ridden for half an hour at a sharp trot he pulled up his

chestnut and said:

"'Well, little one?'

"'What is your pleasure, big one?'

"'Shall we turn back?'

"'Oh, no.'

"I was absolutely not willed to give up so quickly what filled me with

such intense satisfaction.

"'Well, then, to the Illowo woods,' said he, pointing to the bluish

wall which bordered the distant horizon.

"I nodded and gave my horse the whip, so that it reared up high and

plunged along in wild bounds.

"'Very creditable for a young lady of fifteen.' I heard his voice

behind me.

"'Sixteen, if you please!' cried I, half turning round towards him. 'By

the bye, if you again reproach me with my youth, there's an end to our

good fellowship.'

"'Heaven forbid!' he laughed, and then we rode on in silence.

"The wood of Illowo is intersected by a small rivulet, whose steep

banks are so close together that the alder branches from either side

intertwine and form a high-vaulted, green dome over the surface of the

water, terminating at each bend in a dense wall of foliage, behind

which it builds itself up anew. Down there, close to the water's edge,

I had known, since my childhood, many a secluded nook, where I had

often sat for hours, reading or dreaming to myself, while my horse

peacefully grazed up in the wood.

"As we now rode slowly along between the trees, a desire seized me to

show him one of my sanctuaries.

"'I want to dismount,' I called out to him; 'help me out of my saddle.'

"He jumped off his horse and did as I had bid.

"'What do you intend to do?' he then asked.

"'You will see shortly.' said I. 'First of all, let the horses go.'

"'I should think so, indeed,' he laughed. 'You seem to be one of those

who catch their hares by putting salt on their tails.'

"And he set about tying the bridles to a tree.

"'Let loose,' I commanded; and as he did not obey, I gave the horses a

lash of the whip, so that before he thought of catching hold of the

reins tighter, they were already galloping about at liberty in the

wood.

"'What now?' said he, and put his hands in his pockets. 'Do you think

they will let themselves be caught?'

"'Not by you!' laughed I, for I was sure of my favourites.

"And when at a low whistle from my lips they both came racing along

from the distance and snuffled about affectionately at my neck with

their nostrils, my heart swelled with pride that there were creatures

on earth, though only dumb animals, who bowed to my might and were

subject to me through love; and triumphantly I looked up at him as if

now he must know me as I really was, and what I required of the world.

"But I could see that even now I had not impressed him. 'Well done,

little one!' he said, nothing more, patted me on the shoulder in

fatherly manner, and then threw himself down carelessly upon the grass.

The sun's rays, which broke through the foliage, glittered in his

beard. Like a hero in repose he appeared to me, like those described in

northern saga.

"But just as I was about to grow absorbed in my romancing, he began to

yawn most fearfully, so that I was very quickly and rudely transferred

to prose.

"'But we are not going to stay here. Sir Cousin.'

"'Don't be foolish, little one,' said he, closing his eyes; 'do like

me, let us sleep.'

"Then a frolicsome mood possessed me, and I stepped up to him and shook

him soundly by the collar.

"He snatched at my dress, but I evaded him, so that he jumped to his

feet and attempted to lay hold of me. Then I walked quietly to meet him

and said, 'That's right, now come along.' And then I led him right

through a dense thicket of thorns, down the steep slope, at the foot of

which the deep water lay like a dark mirror. Down there broadleaved

convolvuli and creepers had formed a natural bower above a projecting

block of stone, in which even at high noon one could sit almost in the

dark.

"Thither I led him.

"'Upon my word, it is delightful here, little one,' he said, and

comfortably stretched himself upon the stone, so that his feet hung

down to the water. 'Come, sit down at my side; ... there is room for us

both.'

"I did as he wished, but seated myself so that I could look down upon

him.

"He pretended to be sleeping, and now and again blinked up at me

through half-closed lids.

"Then the thought suddenly came to me, 'Now, if you were Martha, what

should you do?' and I was so startled by it that my blood gushed up

hotly into my face.

"'Are you easily frightened, little one?' he asked.

"I shook my head.

"'Then come here!'

"'I am here at your side.'

"'Place yourself in front of me.'

"I did so. My feet almost touched the flat edge of the stone.

"Suddenly he raised himself, clasped me as quick as lightning about the

waist, and at the same moment I felt myself suspended in mid-air above

the water. I looked at him and laughed.

"'Let me tell you.' said he, 'that it is not by any means a laughing

matter. If I let you drop----'

"'I shall be drowned--so let me drop.'

"'No, first you must make a confession to me.'

"'What confession?'

"'Why you do not like me.'

"I drew a deep breath. At the same time I felt that the soles of my

feet were already being wetted by the surface of the water. He must not

let me sink any lower. A delicious feeling of powerlessness came over

me.

"'I do like you.' I said.

"'Then why do you give me such disagreeable answers?

"'Because I am a disagreeable creature.'

"'That is certainly plausible,' laughed he, and with rapid swing lifted

me up like a feather so that I came to stand once more upon the stone.

'There, now sit down, we will talk sensibly.' Then he took my hand and

continued: 'See, I am a simple fellow, have worked hard and given

little thought to sharpening my wit. You with your quick little brain

always kill me at the very first thrust, so that I have grown

positively afraid of talking to you. I know you mean no harm, for it is

not in our blood to be ill-natured; but all the same, it is not the

proper thing. I am nearly twelve years older than you, and you almost a

child yet. Am I right?'

"'You are right.' said I, dejectedly, wondering privately where my

defiance had departed to.

"'Then why did you do it?'

"'Because I wanted to gain your approval.' said I, and drew a deep

breath.

"He looked into my eyes amazed.

"'Because I wanted to show you that I was not a silly thing, that my

head was in its right place, that I----,' I stopped short and grew

ashamed of myself.

"He chewed his beard and looked meditatively before him.

"'Indeed, now,' he said, 'I was in a fair way to get quite a wrong idea

of your character. What a good thing that I followed Martha's advice!'

"'Martha's?' I exclaimed. 'What did she advise you?'

"'Take her aside alone some time,' she said, 'and have it out with her.

Whomever she does not love she hates, and it would pain me if she did

not grow to love you.'

"'Did she say that?' asked I, and tears came into my eyes. 'Oh, you

good sister, you noble soul!'

"'Yes, she said that and much more besides, in order to explain and

vindicate your disposition. And as I love Martha----'

"'Do you?' I interrupted him, eager to learn more.

"'Yes, very dearly,' he replied reflectively, and looked down into the

water beneath him.

"My heart beat so violently that I could hardly draw my breath. So he,

he took me into his confidence, he made a confederate of me. I could

have embraced him there and then, so grateful did I feel towards him.

"'And does she know it?' I inquired.

"'I daresay she knows it,' he remarked; 'a thing of that sort cannot be

concealed----'

"What--then--you have not--told her?' I stammered.

"He shook his head sadly.

"I was awakened from all my illusions. So the arbours of our garden had

never afforded shelter to two lovers, the moon as it shone through the

branches had never been the witness of clandestine kisses? And all my

romancing had proved itself nothing but idle imagination? But in the

midst of my disillusion a deep compassion seized me for this giant,

crouching beside me as helpless as a child. Surely, I vowed to myself,

he shall not in vain have put his trust in me!

"'Why did you remain silent?' I inquired further.

"He looked somewhat suspiciously at my immature youth, and then began,

heaving a deep breath:--

"'You see, at that time I was a silly young fellow, and could not pluck

up courage to speak; in the years of one's youth one is already so

supremely happy if one can only now and again secure a secret pressure

of the hand, that one thinks marriage can have no further bliss to

offer. But----you really cannot understand all these things.'

"'Who knows?' replied I, in my innocence; 'I have read a great deal on

the subject already.'

"'The short and the long of it is.' he continued, 'that I was then

nearly as foolish as you are at present. And now, you see, if I speak

to her now, every word binds me with iron fetters to all eternity.'

"'And don't you wish to bind yourself?' I asked in astonishment.

"'I _may_ not,' he cried; 'I dare not, for I do not know if I can make

her happy.'

"'Well, of course, if you do not know that,' said I, drawing up my lips

contemptuously, and in my heart I inferred further: 'Then he cannot

love her either.'

"But he started up with sparkling eyes: 'Understand me aright, little

one.' he cried; 'if it only depended on me, I would ask nothing better

all my life, than to carry her in my arms, lest her foot might dash

against a stone. But--oh, this misery--this misery!' And he tore his

hair, so that I grew quite frightened of him. Never should I have

thought it possible for this quiet, reflective man to behave so

passionately.

"'Confide in me, Robert,' said I, placing my hand on his shoulder; 'I

am only a foolish girl, but it will unburden your heart.'

"'I cannot,' he groaned, 'I cannot!'

"'Why not?'

"'Because it would be humiliating--for you too. Only this much I will

tell you: Martha is a delicate, tender, sensitive creature; she would

never be able to hold her own against the flood of cares and misfortune

which must pour down upon her there. She would be broken like a weak

blade of corn at the first onset of the storm. And what good would it

be, if a few years after our wedding I had to carry her to her grave?'

"A cold shudder runs through me, when I think how that word of presage

came to be so terribly realised; but at that moment there was nothing

to warn me. I only felt the ardent desire to give as romantic a turn as

possible to this, to my mind, much too prosaic love affair.

Unfortunately there was not much to be done at present. So at least I

assumed a knowing air, and sought in my memory for some of the phrases

with which worthy sibyls and father confessors are wont to feed the

soul of unhappy lovers.

"And he, this big child, drank in the foolish words of comfort like one

dying of thirst.

"'But will she have patience?' he asked, and showed signs of becoming

disheartened again.

"'She will! Depend upon it,' I cried, eagerly; 'as she has waited so

long, she will wait for another year or two. You will see how gladly

she will submit.'

"'And what if even later nothing should come of it?' he objected, 'if I

should have disappointed her hopes, have played the fool with her

heart? No, I will not speak; they may drag my tongue out of my mouth,

but I will not speak!'

"'If you did not intend to speak, why then did you come?' asked I.

Heaven knows how this two-edged idea got into my foolish young girl's

head. I felt darkly that I was committing a cruelty when I put it into

words, but now it was too late. I saw how his face grew pale, I felt

how his breath swelled up hot and heavy and poured itself forth upon me

in a sigh.

"'I am an honest man, Olga,' he muttered between his teeth; 'you must

not torture me. But as you have asked, you shall have an answer. I came

because I could bear life without her no longer, because by a sight of

her I wanted to gather up strength and comfort for sad days to come,

and because--because in my heart of hearts I still cherished the faint

hope that things might be different here, that it might be possible for

her to come with me.'

"'And is it not possible?'

"'No! Do not ask why; let it suffice you that I say no.'

"Then suddenly he bent down towards me, took hold of both my hands, and

said, from the very depths of his soul: 'See, Olga, more has come of

our good fellowship than we both could suspect an hour ago. Will you

now stand by me faithfully, and help me as much as lies in your power?'

"'I will,' said I, and felt very solemn the while.

"'I know you are no longer a child,' he went on; 'you are a sensible

and brave girl and do not swerve from anything you undertake. Will you

keep watch over her, so that she does not lose heart, even if I now go

away again in silence. Will you?'

"'I will!' I repeated.

"'And will you sometimes write to me, to tell me how she is? Whether

she is well, and of good courage? Will you?'

"'I will!' I said, for the third time.

"'Then come, give me a kiss, and let us be good friends, now and

always.' And he kissed me on my mouth....

"Five minutes later we were on our horses and riding hurriedly towards

the home farm; for it already was beginning to grow dark.

"'You stayed away a long time,' said Martha, who was standing in her

white apron on the verandah, and smiled at us from afar. When I saw

her, I felt as if I could never find enough tenderness to pour out upon

my sister. I hastened towards her and kissed her passionately, but at

the same moment I regretted it, for it appeared to me as if I were

thereby wiping his kiss from my lips.

"Embarrassed, I desisted, and slunk away. At supper I constantly hung

upon his eyes, for I thought he must make known our secret

understanding by some sign. But he did not think of any such thing.

Only when we shook hands after the meal he pressed mine in quite a

peculiar way, as he had never done before. I was as pleased as if I had

received some valuable present.

"On that evening I could hardly await the time when I might go to bed

and put out the light; then I was often wont to stare for an hour at a

time into the darkness, dreaming to myself. It was in my power to keep

awake as long as I wished, and to go to sleep as soon as I thought it

time. I had only to bury my head in the pillows and I was off. To-day I

stretched myself in my bed with a sense of well-being such as I had

never before in my life experienced. I felt as if every wish of my life

had been fulfilled. My cheeks burnt, and on my lips there still

distinctly remained the slight tingling sensation of that kiss--the

first kiss with which a man,--papa of course did not count--had kissed

me.

"And if, strictly speaking, it had been meant for some one else, what

did that matter to me? I was still so young I could not yet lay claim

to anything of the kind for my own self.

"Thereupon I once more fell into my favourite reverie as to what I

should do if I were in Martha's place. Thus I had no need to destroy

the fancies which to-day had been proved only idle chimera, but could

go on spinning them out to my heart's content, and I did spin them out,

waking and sleeping, till early morning.

"Two days later he drove off. A few hours before he took his leave, he

had a long conference with Martha in the garden. Without any feeling of

jealousy I saw them disappear together, and it afforded me unspeakable

pleasure to keep watch at the gate so that no one should surprise them.

"When they appeared again they were both silent, and looked sad and

serious.

"No, he had not declared himself; that I saw at the first glance, but

he had spoken of the future, and probably interspersed many a little

word of modest hope.

"Before he stepped into the carriage, it so happened that he was for a

few moments alone with me. Then he took my hand and whispered:

"'You will not betray one single word, will you? I can depend upon it?'

"I nodded eagerly.

"'And you will write to me soon?'

"'Certainly.'

"'Where shall I send the answer?'

"I started. I had not in the remotest degree thought of that. But as

the moment pressed, I mentioned at haphazard the name of an old

inspector who had always been specially attached to me.

* * * * *

"Time passed. One day followed another in the old way, and yet now how

differently, how peculiarly the world had shaped itself for me.

"I no longer had any need to study love from books, and search for it

afar off; it had stepped bodily into my existence, its sweet mysteries

played around me, and I--oh, joy!---I was joining in the game. I was

entangled head over ears in the intrigue that was to lay the basis of

my sister's happiness.

"It was like a miracle to see how after each of Robert's visits she

revived and gained fresh strength and colour and health. Like an

invigorating bath those few days of their intercourse had acted upon

her, and more even than they, probably, that miraculous fountain of

hope from which she had drunk a long and furtive draught.

"Certainly the sunny cheerfulness of other days did not return to her

again, that seemed irretrievably lost in those seven years of weary

waiting; no song, no laughter ever issued from her lips, but over her

features there lay spread a soft warm glow, as if a light from within

her soul irradiated them. Nor did she any longer drag herself about the

house with lagging, weary steps, and whoever approached her was sure of

a friendly smile.

"And as her happiness must needs find vent in love, she also attached

herself more closely to me, and tried to gain an insight into my hidden

and lonely thoughts. I loved her the more dearly for it, I all the more

often invoked God's blessing upon her, but I did not give her my

confidence.

"Before she, of her own accord, opened out her whole heart to me, I

could not and would not confess how far I had already gazed into its

depths.

"Sometimes I caught myself looking across at her with a motherly

feeling--if I may call it so for since I carried on an active

correspondence with Robert, I imagined that it was I who held her

happiness in my hands.

"My vanity made of me a good genius, clad in white raiment, whose hand

bore a palm-branch, and whose smile dispensed blessings. And meanwhile

I counted the days till a letter from Robert came, and ran about with

glowing cheeks when at length I carried it near my heart.

"These letters had become such a necessity to me that I could hardy

imagine how I should ever be able to exist without them. Under pretext

of telling him all about Martha, I most cunningly understood how to

prattle away the cares that filled his heart--childishly and foolishly

(as men like to hear it from us, so that they may feel themselves our

superiors), and again at other times seriously and knowingly beyond

my years--just as I felt in the mood. He willingly submitted to my

chatter in all its different keys, as one submits to the piping of a

singing-bird, and more I did not ask. For I was already so grateful

that he allowed me--a silly young girl who had still to leave the room

when grown-up people had serious questions to discuss--to participate

in his great, grave love. All my dignity and self-consciousness were

based upon this _role_ of guardian. And thus I grew up with and by this

love, of which never a crumb might fall for me beneath the table.

* * * * *

"When the following autumn approached, I noticed that Martha manifested

a peculiar restlessness. She ran about her room with excited steps,

remained for half the nights at the open window, gesticulated and spoke

loudly when she thought herself alone, and was violently startled

whenever she found herself caught in the act.

"I faithfully informed Robert of what I saw, and added the question

whether he had perhaps held out any hope of his coming at this

particular time; for Martha's whole condition seemed to me to be

produced through painfully overwrought expectation.

"I had every reason to be satisfied with the shrewdness of my seventeen

years, for my observations proved correct.

"Deeply contrite, he wrote to me that he had indeed at parting

expressed a hope of being able to return with a cheerful face in the

following autumn, but that he had deceived himself, that he was more

encumbered by cares and debts than ever before, that he was working

like a common labourer, and did not see a ray of hope anywhere.

"'Then at least release her from the torture of waiting,' I wrote back

to him, 'and cautiously inform our parents how you are placed.'

"He did so; two days later already, papa, in a bad humour, brought the

letter along, which I--on account of my childish want of judgment--was

not allowed to read.

"On Martha it operated in a way which terrified and deeply moved me.

The excitement of the last weeks there and then disappeared. In its

place there showed itself again that despairing listlessness which once

before, in the days preceding Robert's coming, had worn her to a

shadow; once more she fell away; once more deep blue rings appeared

round her eyes; once more an odour of valerian proceeded from her mouth

while she often writhed in pain. Added to this was the constant desire

to weep, which at the smallest provocation, found vent in a torrent of

tears.

"This time papa did not send for a doctor. He could make the diagnosis

himself. Even mama suffered with the poor girl, as far as her

phlegmatic nature permitted, and it did not permit her to stir from her

chimney-corner to tender help to her sickening daughter. As for me, I

now for the first time found an opportunity of proving to my family

that I was no longer a child, and that even in serious matters, my will

claimed consideration. I took the burden of housekeeping upon my

shoulders, and though they all smiled and remonstrated, and though

Martha declared time after time that she would never suffer me, the

younger one, to usurp her place, I had still in a fortnight, so far

gained my point that the entire household danced to my pipe.

"That was the only time when Martha and I ever came to hard words; but

gradually she necessarily perceived that what I did was only done for

her sake, and finally she was the first to feel grateful to me. In

several other things too, she learnt to submit to me; but she sought to

deceive herself as to my influence by remarking that one must give way

to children.

"Through my intercourse with Robert, I now learnt for the first that

one may tell lies for love's sake. I concealed from him the sad effects

of his letter, yes, I even unblushingly wrote to him that everything

was as well as could be. I acted thus, because I reflected that the

truth would plunge him into a thousand new cares and anxieties, which

must absolutely crush him, as he was powerless to help. But it was very

hard for me to keep up my light chatty tone, and often some joke seemed

to freeze in my pen.

"And things grew more and more troubled. Papa was despondent because

failure of crops had destroyed his best prospects, mama grumbled

because no one came to amuse her, and Martha faded away more and more.

"Christmas drew near--such a gloomy one as our happy home had never

before witnessed.

"Round the burning Christmas tree which I had this time trimmed and

lighted in Martha's stead, we stood and did not know what to say to

each other for very heaviness of heart. And because no one else did so,

I had to assume a forced smile and attempt to scare the wrinkles from

their brows. But I got very little response indeed, and finally we

shook hands and said 'good-night,' so that each might retire to his

room, for we felt that anyhow we could not get on together.

"When I came to Martha, who sat silently in a corner, gazing vacantly

at the dying candles, a painful feeling darted through my breast, as if

I were committing some wrong towards her, which I ought to redress. But

I did not know what this wrong could be.

"She kissed me on my forehead and said: 'May God ever let you keep your

brave heart, my child; I thank you for every joke to which you forced

yourself to-day.' I, however, knew not what to reply, for that

consciousness of guilt, which I could not grasp, was gnawing at my

soul. When I was alone in my room, I thought to myself, 'There, now you

will celebrate Christmas.' I took Robert's letters out of the drawer

where I kept them carefully hidden, and determined to read at them far

into the night.

"The storm rattled my shutters, snow-flakes drifted with a soft rustle

against the window-panes, and above, there peacefully gleamed the

green-shaded hanging lamp.

"Then, as I comfortably spread out the little heap of letters in front

of me, I heard next door, in Martha's room, a dull thud and thereupon

an indistinct noise that sounded to me like praying and sobbing.

"'That is how _she_ celebrates Christmas,' I said, involuntarily

folding my hands, and again I felt that pang at my heart, as if I were

acting deceitfully and heartlessly towards my sister.

"And I brooded over it again till it became clear to me that the

letters were to blame.

"'Do I not write and keep silence all for her good?' I asked myself;

but my conscience would not be bribed; it answered: 'No.' Like flames

of fire my blood shot up into my face, for I recognised with what

pleasure my own heart hung upon those letters. 'What would she not give

for one of these papers?' I went on thinking, 'She who perhaps no

longer believes in his love, who is wrestling with the fear that he

only did not come because he meant to tear asunder the ties that bind

him to her heart.' 'And you hear her sobbing?' the voice within me

continued, 'you leave her in her anguish, and meanwhile comfort

yourself with the knowledge that you share a secret with him, with him

who belongs to her alone?'

"I clasped my hands before my face; shame so powerfully possessed me,

that I was afraid of the light which shone down upon me.

"'Give her the letters!' the voice cried suddenly, and cried so loudly

and distinctly that I thought the storm must have shouted the words in

my ears.

"Then I fought a hard battle; but each time my good intention wavered,

hard pressed by the fear of breaking my word to him, and by the wish to

remain still longer in secret correspondence with him, her sobbing and

praying reached me more distinctly and confused my senses so, that I

felt like fleeing to the ends of the earth in order to hear no more.

"And at length I had made up my mind. I carefully packed the letters

together in a neat little heap, tied them round with a silk ribbon, and

set about carrying them across to her.

"'That shall be your Christmas present,' said I, for I remembered that

this year I had not been able to embroider or crochet anything for her,

as had usually been the custom between us. And as he who gives likes to

clothe his doings in theatrical garb in order to hide his overflowing

heart, I determined first to act a little comedy with her.

"I crept, half-dressed as I was, down into the sitting-room, where our

presents were spread under the Christmas tree, groped in the dark for

her plate, gathered up what lay beside it, and on the top of all placed

the little packet of letters. Thus laden, I came to her door and

knocked.

"I heard a sound like some one dragging himself up from the floor, and

after a long while--she was probably drying her eyes first--her voice

was heard at the door, asking who was there and what was wanted of her.

"'It is I, Martha.' I said, 'I come to bring you--your plate--you left

it downstairs.'

"'Take it with you into your room, I will fetch it to-morrow,' she

replied, trying hard to suppress the sobs in her voice.

"'But something else has been added,' said I, and my words too were

almost choked with tears.

"'Then give it me to-morrow.' she replied, 'I am already undressed.'

"'But it is from me,' said I.

"And because, despite her misery, in the kindness of her heart she did

not want to hurt my feelings, she opened the door. I rushed up to her

and wept upon her neck, while I kept tight hold of the plate with my

left hand.

"'Whatever is the matter with you, child?' she asked, and patted me. 'A

little while ago you seemed the only cheerful one, and now----'

"I pulled myself together, led her under the light, and pointed to the

plate. At the first glance she recognised the handwriting, grew as

white as a sheet, and stared at me like one possessed, out of eyes that

were red with weeping.

"'Take them, take them!' said I.

"She stretched out her hand, but it shrank back as at the touch of

red-hot iron.

"'See, Martha!' said I, with the desire to revenge myself for her

silence, and at the same time to brag a little, 'you had no confidence

in me; you considered me too childish, but I saw through everything,

and while you were fretting, I was up and doing.' Still she continued

to stare at me, without power of comprehension. 'You imagine that he no

longer cares about you,' I went on, 'while all the time I have had to

give him regular account of your doings and of the state of your

health. Every week----'

"She staggered back, seized her head with both her hands, and then

suddenly a shudder seemed to pass through her frame. She stepped close

up to me, grasped my two hands, and with a peculiarly hoarse voice she

said, 'Look me in the face, Olga! Which of you two wrote the first

letter?'

"'I,' said I, astonished, for I did not yet know what she was driving

at.

"'And you--you betrayed to him the state of my feelings--you--_offered_

me, Olga?'

"'What puts such an idea into your head?' said I. 'He himself confessed

everything to me when he was here. Oh, he knew me better than you.' I

added, for I could not let this small trump slip by. 'He was not

ashamed to confide in me.'

"'Thank God!' she murmured with a deep sigh, and folded her hands.

"'But now come, Martha,' said I, leading her to the table, 'now we will

celebrate Christmas.'

"And then we read the letters together, one after the other, and from

one and all his heart, faithful and true as gold, shone forth through

the simple, awkward words, and spread a warm glow, so that our heavily

oppressed souls grew lighter and more cheerful, that we laughed and

cried with cheek pressed to cheek, and almost squeezed our hands off in

the mutual attempt to make each other feel the pressure which his warm

red fist was wont to give.

"And then suddenly--it was at one place where he specially impressed

upon me to be sure and take great care of her and watch over her and

protect her for his sake--her happiness overwhelmed her, and--I blush

to write it down--she fell on her knees before me and pressed her lips

to my hand.

"But, though I was much startled, I no longer felt anything of that

pricking and gnawing which a little while before, under the Christmas

tree, had so sorely beset my bosom. I knew that my guilt was blotted

out, and with a free light heart I vowed to myself now indeed to watch

like a guardian angel over my sister, who was so much more feeble and

in want of direction than I, the foolish and immature child. And she

felt this herself, for unresistingly she, who had hitherto treated me

as a child, submitted to my guidance.

"At last I had attained the desire of my heart. I had a human being

whom I could pet and spoil as much as I pleased; and, now that every

barrier between us had fallen, I lavished upon my sister all the

tenderness which had for so long been stored up unused within me.

"Father and mother were not a little surprised at the newly-awakened

cordiality of our relations to each other, that just latterly had left

much to be desired, and Martha herself could hardly grow accustomed to

the change. She contemplated me every day in new astonishment, and

often said, 'How could I suspect that there was so much love within

you?'

"If she could only have known what a sacrifice it cost me to divulge my

secret, she would have put a still higher value upon my love.

"Yes, I had rightly guessed how it would be: from the moment when

Martha had held the letters in her hand, the happiness of my secret

understanding with Robert was at an end for me. Like a stranger he now

appeared to me, and when I sat down to write to him I felt like a mere

machine that has to copy other people's thoughts. Often I even passed

on a letter unread to Martha as soon as I received it from the

inspector's hands. Sometimes it worried me that I had abused his

confidence to such an extent, for he suspected nothing of her

knowledge; but when I looked at her, saw her newly-awakening smile and

the quiet, dreamy happiness that shone forth from her eyes, I consoled

my conscience with the thought that I could not possibly have committed

any wrong. So far I had only become his betrayer; soon I was to betray

Martha too.

"Winter and spring passed by swiftly, and the time came for storing the

sheaves in the barns.

"As soon as the harvest was over he intended to come; but before then,

he wrote, there was many a hardship to be surmounted.

* * * * *

"One day papa appeared in the kitchen, where we were, with an

apparently indifferent air, snuffled about for a while among the pots

and pans, and meanwhile kept on slashing at the long leggings of his

water-boots with his riding-whip.

"'Why you have become a Paul Pry to-day, papa?' said I.

"He gave a short laugh and remarked, 'Yes, I have become a Paul Pry.'

And when he had for some time longer been running backwards and

forwards without speaking, he suddenly stopped in front of Martha and

said--

"'If you should just have time, my child, you might come into the room

for a moment. Mama and I have something to say to you.'

"'Ah, I see,' said I, 'that is the reason for this long preliminary.

May I come too?'

"'No.' he replied. 'You remain in the kitchen.'

"Martha gave me a long look, took off her apron, and went with him to

the sitting-room.

"For a while all remained quiet in there. Round about me the steam was

hissing, the pots were broiling, and one of the maids was making a

great clatter cleaning knives; but all this noise was suddenly

penetrated by a short, piercing cry which could only proceed from

Martha's lips.

"Trembling I listened, and at the same moment papa came rushing into

the kitchen, calling for 'Water!' I hurried past him, and found my

sister lying fainting on the ground with her head in mama's lap.

"'What have you been doing to Martha?' I cried, throwing myself on my

knees beside her.

"No one answered me. Mama, as helpless as a child, was wringing her

hands, and papa was chewing his moustache, to suppress his tears,

as it seemed. Then, as I bent down over the poor creature, I saw a

blue-speckled sheet of paper lying beside her on the floor, which I

immediately, and unobserved by any one, appropriated.

"Thereupon I quickly did what was most pressing: I recalled my sister

to consciousness, and led her, while she gazed about with vacant eyes,

up to her room.

"There I laid her upon her bed. She stared up at the ceiling, and from

time to time wanted to drink. Her spirit did not yet seem to have

awakened again at all.

"I meanwhile secretly drew the letter from my pocket, and read what I

here record verbally; for I have carefully preserved this monument of

motherly and sisterly affection:--

"'My beloved Brother! Dearest Sister-in-Law!--A circumstance of a very

painful nature compels me to write to you to-day. You are, I am sure,

fully convinced how much I love you, and how much my heart longs to be

in the closest possible relation to you and your children. All through

my life I have only shown you kindness and affection, and received the

same from you. Relying on this affection I to-day address a request to

you, which is prompted by the anxiety of a mother's heart. To-day my

son Robert came to us and declared that he intended asking you for your

daughter Martha's hand; begging us at the same time to give our

consent, with which, as a good son and also as a prudent man he cannot

dispense, as unfortunately he still depends, to a great extent, on our

assistance.

"'If I might have followed the bent of my heart, I would have fallen

upon his neck with tears of joy; but, unhappily, I had to keep a clear

head for my son and my husband--who are both children--and was forced

to tell him that on no account could anything come of this.

"'My dear brother, I do not wish to reproach you in any way for

not having been able to keep your affairs straight in the course of

years--far be it from me to mix myself up in matters that do not

concern me; but as these matters now stand, your estate is encumbered

with debts, and, with the exception of--as I would fain believe--an

ample 'trousseau,' your daughters would not have a farthing of dowry to

expect. On the other hand, my son Robert's estate is also heavily

embarrassed through the payments which he had to make to us and his

sisters and brothers--as well as by the mortgages which we still hold

upon it, and by the interests of which we and my other children have to

live--so that marriage with a poor girl would simply mean ruin to him.

"'I do not take into account that your daughter Martha must--according

to your letters--be a weakly and delicate creature, and therefore

appears to me utterly unfit to take cheerfully upon herself the cares

of this large household and to render my son Robert happy; the idea

that she would come into his house with empty hands is in itself

decisive for me, and suffices to convince me that she herself must

become unhappy and make him so.

"'If your daughter Martha truly loves my son Robert, it will not prove

hard for her to renounce all thoughts of a marriage with him in the

interests of his welfare, provided, of course, he should still have the

courage to propose to her in spite of his parents' opposition--although

I do not expect such filial disobedience from him, and absolutely

cannot imagine such a thing. I am convinced, my dear relations, that

your brotherly and sisterly affection will prompt you to join with me

in refusing your consent, now and for ever, to such a pernicious and

unnatural union,

"'Yours, with sincere love,

"'Johanna Hellinger.

"'P.S.--How have your crops turned out? Winter rye with us is good, but

the potatoes show much disease.'

* * * * *

"Rage at this mean and hypocritical piece of writing so possessed me,

that loudly laughing, I crumpled the sheet of paper beneath my feet.

"My laughter probably hurt Martha, for it was her moaning which at

length brought me back to my senses. There she lay now, helplessly

smitten down, as if shattered by the blow which should have steeled her

strength for enhanced resistance. And as I gazed down upon her,

tortured by the consciousness of being condemned to look on idly, there

once again broke forth from my soul that sigh of former times: 'Oh,

that you were--she!' But what new meaning it concealed! What then had

been folly and childishness, had now developed into seriousness of

purpose, ready self-sacrifice, and consciousness of strength.

"I determined to act as long as ever there was time yet. First of all,

I would go to my parents, tell them what I had done, and that for a

long time already I had been initiated into everything--and finally

demand of them to assign to me at length that position in the family

council which, in spite of my youth, was due to me.

"But I rejected this idea again. As soon as I participated in the

deliberations of my family, it became my duty not to act contrary to

whatever they thought good, and only if I apparently took no heed of

anything, could I be working for the salvation of my poor sister

according to my own plans and my own judgment.

"I very soon saw how matters lay. Each one had read in the letter what

most appealed to his nature.

"Papa, quite possessed by a poor man's pride, would, after this, have

thought it a disgrace to let his child enter a family where she would

be looked at disparagingly. Mama, for her part, had been touched

by the interspersed professions of affection, and thought that her

sister-in-law's confidence ought not to be abused.

"And my sister?

"That same night, as I kept watch at her bedside, I felt her place her

hot hand upon mine and draw me gently towards her with her feeble arm.

"'I have something to say to you, Olga,' she whispered, still looking

up at the ceiling with her sad eyes.

"'Had we not better leave it till to-morrow?' I suggested.

"'No,' she said, 'else meanwhile that will happen which must not

happen. Henceforth all is over between him and me.'

"'You little know him,' said I.

"'But I know myself,' said she. 'I break it off.'

"'Martha!' I cried, horrified.

"'I know very well,' she said, 'that I shall die of it, but what does

that matter? I am of very little account. It is better so, than that I

should make him unhappy.'

"'You are talking in a fever, Martha,' I cried, 'for I do not think you

silly enough to let yourself be baited by the trash of that old hag.'

"'I feel only too well that she speaks the truth,' said she. A cold

shudder passed through me when I heard her pronounce these despairing

and hopeless words as calmly and composedly as if they were a formula

of the multiplication table. 'Do not gainsay me.' she continued; 'not

only since to-day do I know this--I have always felt something of the

kind, and ought by rights not to have been startled to-day; but it

certainly does upset one, when one so unexpectedly sees in writing

before one's eyes the death sentence which hitherto one has scarcely

dared to suggest to one's own conscience.'

"As eloquently as I possibly could, I remonstrated with her. I

consigned our aunt to the blackest depths of hell, and proved to a

nicety that she (Martha) alone was born to become the good angel in

Robert's house. But it was no good, her faith in herself would not be

revived; the blow had fallen upon her too heavily. And finally she

expected it of me to write no further letter to him, and to break off

our intercourse once and for all. I was alarmed to the depths of my

soul, no less for my own than for her sake. I refused, too, with all

the energy of which I was capable; but she persisted in her

determination, and as she even threatened to betray our correspondence

to our parents, I was at length forced to comply, whether I would or

no.

* * * * *

"Troubled days were in store. Martha slunk about the house like

a ghost. Papa rode like wild through the woods, stayed away at

meal-times, and had not a good word for any of us. Mama, our good, fat

mama, sat knitting in her corner, and from time to time wiped the tears

out of her eyes, while she looked round anxiously, lest any one should

notice it. Yes, it was a sad time!

"Two urgent letters from Robert had arrived. He wrote that he was in

great trouble, and I was to send him tidings forthwith. I told Martha

nothing of them, but I kept my promise.

"A week had passed by, when I noticed that our parents were discussing

what answer they would send to aunt. In order to exclude any suspicion

of sneaking into a marriage, papa had the intention of binding himself

by a final promise, and mama said 'yes,' as she said yes to everything

that did not concern jellies and sweets.

"The same day Martha declared that she felt unfit to leave her

bed--that she had no pain, but that her limbs would not carry her.

"Thus I saw misfortune gathering more and more darkly. I dared not

hesitate any longer.

"'Come! Redeem your promise before it is too late.' These words I wrote

to him. And to be quite sure, I myself ran down into the town, and

handed the letter to the postillion who was just preparing to start for

Prussia.

"At the moment when the envelope left my hands, I felt a pang at my

heart as if I had thereby surrendered by soul to strange powers.

"Three times I was on the point of returning to ask my letter back, but

when I did so in good earnest the postillion was already far away.

"When I climbed up the slope leading to the manor house I hid myself in

the bushes and wept bitterly.

"From that hour an agitation possessed me, such as I had never before

in my life experienced. I felt as if fever were burning in my limbs--at

nights I ran about my room restlessly, all day long I was on the

look-out, and every approaching carriage drove all the blood to my

heart.

"I gave wrong answers to every question, and the very maids in the

kitchen began to shake their heads doubtfully. A bride who is expecting

her bridegroom could not behave more crazily.

"This state of things lasted for four days, and it was lucky for me

that each member of the family was so engrossed with himself, else

suspicion and cross-examination could not have been spared me.

"This time I did not receive him. When I recognised his figure in the

strange, four-horse carriage which, all besplashed with mud, tore

through the courtyard gate, I ran up to the attic and hid in the most

remote corner.

"My face was aglow, my limbs trembled, and before my eyes fiery-red

mists were dancing.

"Downstairs I heard doors banging, heard hurried steps lumber up and

down the stairs, heard the servants' voices calling my name--I did not

stir.

"And when all had become quiet, I stole cautiously down the back

staircase, out into the park, in the wildest wilderness of which I

crouched down. A peculiar feeling of bitterness and shame agitated me.

I felt as if I must take to flight, only never again to have to face

that pair of eyes for whose coming I yet had so longingly waited. And

then I pictured to myself what, during these moments, was most probably

taking place in the house. Papa was sure to have been somewhat helpless

at sight of him, for he certainly still felt the effects of that wicked

letter; he was sure also to have resisted a little when he heard him

utter his proposal; but then Martha had appeared--how quickly she has

found her strength again, poor ailing creature, who but a few moments

ago lay tired to death on the sofa, how quickly she will have forgotten

everything that the years have brought of sorrow and sadness--and now

they will lie in each other's embrace and not remember me.

"And then suddenly a dark feeling of defiance awoke within me. 'Why do

you hide away?' cried a voice. 'Have you not done your duty? Is not all

this your work?'

"With a sudden jerk I raised myself up, smoothed back my tumbled hair

from my forehead, and with firm tread and set lips I walked towards the

house. No sound of rejoicing greeted my ears. All was quiet--quiet as

the grave. In the dining-room I found mama alone. She had folded her

hands and was heaving deep sighs, while great tears rolled down as far

as her white double chin.

"'That is the result of her emotion.' thought I to myself, and sat down

facing her.

"'Wherever have you been hiding, Olga?' she said, this time drying her

eyes quite leisurely. 'You must have a few young fowls killed for

supper, and set the good Moselle in a cold place. Cousin Robert has

come.'

"'Ah, indeed,' said I, very calmly, 'where may he be?'

"'He is speaking to papa in his study.'

"'And where is Martha?' I asked, smiling.

"She gave me a disapproving look for my precociousness, and then said,

'She is in there, too.'

"'Then I suppose I can go at once and offer my congratulations; I

remarked.

"'Saucy girl,' said she.

"But before I could carry out my purpose the door of the adjoining room

opened and in walked slowly, as slowly as if he came from a sepulchre,

Robert--Cousin Robert, with ashy pale face and great drops of

perspiration on his brow. I felt how, at sight of him, all my blood,

too, left my face. A presentiment of evil awoke within me.

"'Where is Martha?' I cried, hastening towards him.

"'I do not know.' He spoke as if every word choked him. He did not even

shake hands.

"And then papa came too, after him.

"Mama had got up and all three stood there and silently shook hands

like at a funeral.

"'Where is Martha?' I cried once more.

"'Go and look after her,' said papa, 'she will want you.'

"I rushed out, up the stairs to her room. It was locked.

"'Martha, open the door! It is I.'

"Nothing stirred.

"I begged, I implored, I promised to make everything right again. I

lavished endearing epithets upon her--that, too, was in vain. Nothing

was audible except from time to time a deep breath which sounded like a

gasp from a half-throttled throat.

"Then rage seized me, that I should be everywhere repulsed.

"'I suppose I am just good enough to prepare the mourning repast.' I

said, laughing out loud, ran to the maids and had six young chickens

killed and even stood by calmly while the poor little creatures' blood

squirted out of their necks.

"One of them, a young cockerel, quite desperately beat its wings and

crowed for very terror of death, while it thrust its spurs at the

maid's fingers.

"'Even a poor, weak animal like this resists when one tries to kill

it,' I thought to myself, 'but my lady sister humbly kisses the hand

that wields the knife against her.'

"The death of these innocent beings might almost be called gay in

comparison with the meal for which they served. No condemned criminal's

last meal could pass more dismally. Every five minutes some one

suddenly began to talk, and then talked as if paid for it. The others

nodded knowingly, but I could very well see: whoever heard did not know

what he heard, whoever talked did not know what he was talking about.

"Martha had not put in an appearance. When we were about to separate,

each one to go to his room, Robert seized both my hands and drew me

into a corner.

"'My thanks to you, Olga,' he said, while his lips twitched, 'for

having so faithfully taken my part. Now we will mark a long pause at

the end of our letters.'

"'For heaven's sake, Robert,' I stammered, 'however did this come

about?'

"He shrugged his shoulders. 'I suppose I kept her waiting too long,' he

then said; 'she has grown tired of me.'

"I was about to cry out: 'That is not true--that is not true! 'but

behind us stood my father and informed him that, according to his wish,

the conveyance would be ready at daybreak.

"'Then I am not to see you any more?' I cried, alarmed.

"He shook his head. 'We had better bid each other good-bye now,' he

said, and squeezed my hand.

"Within me a voice cried that he must not depart thus, that I must

speak to him at any price. But I bravely suppressed the words that were

nearly choking me. And so we once more shook hands and separated.

"I had several things to do yet in the house, and while I put out some

coffee and weighed out flour and bacon for next morning's meal, the

words were constantly in my ears: 'You must speak to him.'

"Then, as I went, with my candle in my hand, up to my room, I made a

detour past his door, for I hoped I might perhaps meet him on the

landing; but that was empty, and his door was closed. Only the sound of

his heavy footsteps inside the room was audible throughout the house.