CHAPTER I.

THE BREAKING OF THE STORM.

THE

BREAKING OF THE STORM.

BY

FRIEDRICH SPIELHAGEN.

Translated from the German

BY

S. E. A. H. STEPHENSON.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

LONDON:

RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON.

1877.

(_All Rights Reserved_.)

THE BREAKING OF THE STORM.

BOOK I.

CHAPTER I.

The weather had grown worse towards evening. The groups of navvies on

their way to the new railroad at Sundin cowered closer together between

the piled-up barrels, casks, and chests on the fore-deck, while the

passengers had almost disappeared from the poop. Two elderly gentlemen

who had been talking a good deal together during the journey now stood

on the starboard side, looking at the island round which the steamer

had to pass to the south-west, and whose level shores, sweeping in

broad curves towards the promontory, appeared every moment more

distinctly.

"So that is Warnow?"

"No. I beg your pardon, President--that is Ahlbeck, a fishing village,

which is, however, on the Warnow estates. Warnow itself lies farther

inland. You can just see the church tower over the edge of the dunes."

The President dropped the eye-glass with which he had vainly searched

for the tower.

"You have sharp eyes, General, and are quick at finding out your

bearings!"

"I have only been there once, it is true," answered the General; "but

since then I have had only too much cause for studying this line of

coast on the map."

The President smiled.

"Yes, yes; it is classical ground," said he; "it has been long fought

over--long and vainly."

"And I am convinced that it was right that the struggle should be in

vain: at least, that it should have only a negative result," said the

General.

"I am not sure that it will not be taken up again," answered the

President. "Count Golm and Co. have been making immense efforts

lately."

"After you have so clearly proved that it is impossible that the

railway should pay?"

"And you that the harbour would be useless!"

"Pardon me, President, the decision was not left to me: or, to speak

more correctly, I declined to make it. The only place in the least

suitable for the harbour would be just there, in the southernmost

corner of the bay, protected by Wissow Head--that is to say, on the

Warnow property. It is true that I am only a trustee for my sister's

estates----"

"I know, I know," interrupted the President; "old-fashioned Prussian

honesty, which becomes over-scrupulous sometimes. Count Golm and Co.

are less scrupulous."

"So much the worse for them," said the General.

The two gentlemen turned and went up to a young girl, who was sitting

in a sheltered place under the lee of the deck cabin, and passing the

time as best she could, partly in reading, partly in drawing in a

little album.

"You would like to remain on deck, I suppose, Elsa?" said the General.

"Are you both going into the cabin?" answered the girl, looking up from

her book. "I think it is horrible down below; but it certainly is too

chilly here for you, President."

"It really is excessively chilly," answered the President, turning up

the collar of his overcoat, and casting a glance at the sky; "I think

we shall have rain before sunset even now. You really should come with

us, do not you think so, General?"

"Elsa is weatherproof," answered the General, smiling. "But you might

put a shawl or something round you. Shall I fetch you anything?"

"Thank you, papa! I have everything I can possibly want here," said

Elsa, pointing to her bundle of plaids and rugs; "I will cover myself up

if it is necessary. _Au revoir!_"

She bowed gracefully to the President, gave her father a loving look

and took up her book again, while the two gentlemen turned into the

narrow passage between the cabin and the bulwarks.

She read for a few minutes, then looked up again and followed with her

eyes the cloud of smoke which was still issuing from the funnel in

thick, dark, eddying masses and rolling down upon the vessel. The man

at the wheel, too, still stood on the same spot, still turning the

wheel sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left, and again holding

it immovable in his rough hands. And, yes, there was still the man who

had been, walking up and down with such indefatigable perseverance from

end to end of the vessel, and had showed in so doing a steadiness in

his movements which Elsa, in the course of the day, had repeatedly

tried to imitate, but with very doubtful results.

Otherwise, Elsa thought, he had not much to distinguish him; and she

said to herself that she should hardly have noticed him amongst a

greater number of people, certainly not have observed him attentively,

perhaps not even have seen him; and that if in the course of the day

she had looked at him constantly and really studied him, it was only

because there had not been much to see, to observe, or to study.

Her sketch-book which she was now turning over proved this. This was

meant for a view of the harbour of Stettin. It would require a good

deal of imagination to make anything out of that, thought Elsa. This

one has come out better--the flat meadows, the cows, the floating

beacon, smooth water beyond with a few sails, another strip of meadow,

and the sea in the distance. The man at the wheel is not bad either: he

stood still. But the "Indefatigable" is a terrible failure, a positive

caricature! That is the results of being always in motion! At last!

Only five minutes, Mr. What's-your-name! this really might be good, the

attitude is capital!

The attitude was certainly simple enough. He was leaning against a

bench with his hands in his pockets, and as he looked straight out into

the sea towards the west, his face was in full light, notwithstanding

that the sun was hidden behind clouds, and it was also--what Elsa

always particularly liked to draw--in profile.

"A fine profile," thought Elsa, "although the finest features--the

large, good-humoured blue eyes--are not seen at their best so. But, on

the other hand, the dark beard will come out all the better, I can

always succeed with beards; the hands in the pockets is very

convenient, the left leg entirely hidden by the right, not particularly

artistic but most convenient for the artist; now the bench--a little

bit of the bulwarks and the 'Indefatigable' is finished." Elsa held the

book at a little distance from her to look at the sketch as a picture;

she was highly pleased. "That shows that I really can finish off a

thing when I do it with all my heart," she said to herself, and wrote

under the picture: "The 'Indefatigable.' With all my heart, 26th

August, '72, E. v. W."

While Elsa had been so busily trying to put upon paper the young man's

figure and features, her image also had been present to his mind; and

to him it was all the same, whether he shut his eyes or kept them open,

he always saw her with equal clearness, and always equally graceful and

charming, whether at the moment of their departure from Stettin, when

her father introduced her to the President, and she bowed so prettily;

or as she breakfasted with the two gentlemen, and laughed so merrily as

she put her glass to her lips; or as she stood on the bridge with the

Captain, and the wind blew her dress so close to the slender figure,

and the grey veil fluttered like a flag over her shoulder; or as she

spoke to the navvy's wife on the deck who was sitting in front of her

on the coiled-up ropes and hushing her baby wrapped up in a shawl; as

she stooped down, lifted the shawl for one moment, and looked with a

smile at the hidden treasure; and as, a minute later, she passed by,

and a severe look of the brown eyes asked him how he had dared to watch

her? or as she now sat against the cabin and read and drew, and read

again, and looked up to the clouds of smoke or to the sailor at the

wheel. It was extraordinary how firmly her image had impressed itself

on his mind in the short time; but then for more than a year he had

seen nothing but the sky above and the water below. It was no wonder

after all if the first pretty and nice-looking girl he saw after such

long abstinence made so great an impression upon his feelings.

"And besides," said the young man to himself, "in three hours we shall

be at Sundin, and then farewell, farewell for ever more. But what are

they doing? You are surely not going over the Oster sands with this

tide?"

With these latter words he turned to the man at the wheel.

"Well, sir, it's a fact," answered the man, rolling his quid from one

cheek to the other; "seems to me, too, we ought to starboard a bit, but

the Captain thinks----"

The young man did not wait for the end of the speech. In former years

he had often made this voyage; but he had passed the spot towards which

their course was now directed only a few days ago, and had been alarmed

to see that where there had formerly been fifteen feet of water, there

were now only twelve. To-day, after the strong west wind had kept the

tide back to such an extent, there could hardly be ten feet, and the

steamer drew eight. And yet there was no lessening of speed, no

soundings were taken, not one of the proper precautions thought of! Was

the Captain mad?

The young man ran so hastily past Elsa, and his eyes, as they fell upon

her, had in them so singular an expression, that she rose involuntarily

and looked after him. In another moment he was on the bridge beside the

stout, elderly Captain, to whom he spoke long and earnestly, and at

last even as it seemed warmly, while he repeatedly pointed with his

hand to a particular spot in the direction in which the ship was going.

A strange feeling of anxiety came upon Elsa, such as she had not

experienced in the whole journey. It could not be a small matter which

roused such excitement in this quiet, good-humoured-looking man!

And now she was certain of what she had already more than once

guessed--that he was a sailor, and in that case no doubt a first-rate

one, who was of course in the right, though the fat old Captain did

shrug his shoulders so coolly, and point in the same direction, and

then look through his telescope and shrug his shoulders again, while

the other now hastily descended the steps from the bridge to the poop,

and came straight towards her as if intending to address her.

But he did not do so at once, although, as he hastened by her, his look

met hers, and he no doubt read the silent inquiry in her eyes and on

her lips. He hesitated a moment, and--yes, really--he turned back, and

was now close behind her.

"Madam----"

Her heart beat as if it would burst. She turned round.

"Madam," he repeated, "it is wrong, I know, to alarm you, and perhaps

without cause. But it is not impossible--in fact, I think it is

probable--that within five minutes we shall be ashore. I mean we shall

run aground."

"Good heavens!" cried Elsa.

"I do not think any harm will come of it," continued the young man, "if

the Captain---- Ha! we have only got half-steam on now--half-speed; but

he ought to have reversed the engines, and probably even that would be

too late now."

"Can he not be made to do it?"

"On board his own ship the Captain is supreme," answered the young man,

smiling, in spite of his vexation. "I am a sailor myself, and in

similar circumstances would yield just as little to any persuasions."

He lifted his cap, bowed, and moved a step away, then stopped again. A

deeper light shone in the blue eyes, and a slight tremor came into the

clear, strong voice as he continued:

"There is no question of real danger. We are near the shore, and the

sea is tolerably smooth. I only wished that you might not be taken by

surprise. Forgive my boldness."

He bowed again, and then quickly retired, as if he wished to avoid

further questions.

"There is no question of danger," murmured Elsa. "It is a pity; I

should like to have been saved by him. But my father must know this.

The President ought to be prepared; he needs it more than I do."

She turned to the cabin; but already the diminished speed of the

vessel, which in the last half-minute had still further lessened, had

attracted the attention of the passengers assembled there. Her father

and the President were already ascending the steps.

"What is the matter?" called the General.

"We cannot possibly be in Prora already?" said the President.

At that moment they all felt what seemed like an electric shock, while

an odd, dull, grinding sound fell unpleasantly upon their ears. The

keel had touched the sand-bank, but had not stuck fast. A shrill

whistle, a couple of seconds' breathless silence, then the whole ship

shook and quivered with the force of the reversed motion of the screw.

But what only a few minutes before would have averted the danger was

too late now. The vessel had to pass backwards over the same sandbank

which it had only just managed to get over. A larger wave in its

retreat had forced the stern a few inches further down. The screw

laboured vigorously; the ship heeled over a little, but remained fixed.

"What the devil is the meaning of this?" cried the General.

"There is no question of real danger," said Elsa quickly.

"Bless my soul! my dear young lady!" cried the President, who had

turned very pale.

"We are very near in shore, and the sea is tolerably quiet," said Elsa.

"What do you know about it?" cried the General. "The sea is not a thing

to be trifled with."

"I am not trifling, papa," said Elsa.

The hasty movements and shouts and cries that suddenly surrounded them

on all sides, and the singular and uncomfortable position of the ship,

all sufficiently proved that the prediction of the "Indefatigable" had

come true, and that the steamer was aground.

CHAPTER II.

Every effort to get the ship off had proved unavailing; indeed, it

might even be considered fortunate that the screw had not been broken

by the tremendous effort required of it. The ship had not heeled over

any more, however; and if the night were not stormy, they might lie

here peaceably till the next morning, when a passing vessel could take

off the passengers and carry them farther on their journey, if they had

not got afloat before then, which, indeed, might happen at any moment.

So spoke the Captain, whose coolness was undisturbed by the misfortune

which his own obstinacy had caused.

There was the fact that on the charts, by which he and every other

captain had to steer, fifteen feet were marked at this place; and the

gentlemen at the head of affairs might take the blame to themselves and

provide better charts, or, at any rate, proper buoys. And if, as he

very well knew, other captains had for years past avoided this shoal,

and had preferred to go some miles out of their way, he had constantly

since then, and even the day before yesterday, crossed this very spot.

However, he had no objection to launching the large boat and landing

the passengers, for them to get on their way afterwards as best they

could.

"The man is drunk or mad!" said the President, when the Captain had

turned his broad back and retired to his post. "It is a sin and a shame

that such a man should command a ship, even a mere tub; but I will have

a strict inquiry held, and he shall receive exemplary punishment."

The President's long thin person quivered with anger, fear, and cold;

the General shrugged his shoulders.

"That is all very fine and very well, my dear President," said he; "but

it will come a little too late, and will not help us out of our awkward

position. On principle, I never interfere in matters which I do not

understand; but I wish we had some one on board who could advise us

what to do. We must not ask the sailors--that would be encouraging

insubordination. What do you want, Elsa?"

Elsa had looked at him meaningly. He went up to her and repeated his

question.

"Ask that gentleman," said Elsa.

"What gentleman?"

"That one there; he is a sailor, he can certainly advise you best."

The General fixed his sharp eyes upon the person designated.

"Ah, that man," said he. "He really does look as if he might----"

"Does not he?" said Elsa. "And he told me before that we should run

aground."

"Of course he does not belong to the ship?"

"Oh no--at least, I think--but speak to him yourself."

The General went up to the "Indefatigable."

"I am told, sir, that you are a sailor."

"I am."

"Navigating officer?"

"Merchant captain: Reinhold Schmidt."

"My name is General von Werben. I should be much obliged to you, sir,

if you would give me your opinion, as a sailor, upon our situation; of

course in strict confidence. I should be sorry to ask you to give

evidence against a comrade, or in any way to shake his authority, which

we may still possibly stand much in need of. Is the captain, in your

opinion, to blame for our mishap?"

"Yes and no, General. No, because the charts by which, according to

rule, we must be guided, show a channel in this place. The charts were

right, too, till within the last few years. Since then there has been a

great deal of silting up, and also, in consequence of the west wind

which has prevailed for some weeks, the water has been constantly

falling. More prudent men avoid this spot on that account. I, for my

part, should have avoided it."

"Good! And what do you think of our situation? Are we in danger? or are

we likely to be in danger?"

"I think not. The ship lies almost straight, and on smooth sand. If

nothing new happens, it may lie so a long time."

"The Captain is right, then, in keeping us on board?"

"I think so; all the more that the wind, for the first time for days

past, seems inclined to veer round to the east, and if that happens, we

have good grounds for supposing that we shall be afloat again in a few

hours. However----"

"However?"

"Man is liable to error, General. If the wind--it is south-east now;

the thing is not likely, but it is possible--if the wind should get

round to the west again, and blow harder, perhaps very hard, then there

might be serious danger."

"We ought, then, to take advantage of the Captain's permission to leave

the ship?"

"As the passage would be easy, and perfectly safe, I cannot at any rate

advise against it; but then it should be done while there is still

sufficient daylight: it would be best immediately."

"And you? You would remain--of course?"

"Of course, General."

"Thank you."

The General touched his cap with a slight bend of the head. Reinhold

lifted his for a moment, returning the movement with a stiff bow.

"Well?" asked Elsa, as her father came back to her.

"The man must have been a soldier," answered the General.

"Why so?" asked the President.

"I wish I could always get such clear, explicit reports from my

officers. The case stands thus."

He repeated what he had just heard from Reinhold, and wound up by

saying that he would speak to the Captain about the immediate

disembarkation of such passengers as wished it.

"For my part, I do not intend to put myself to such inconvenience,

which may be unnecessary too, unless Elsa----"

"I, papa!" cried Elsa, "I should not think of such a thing."

The President was in much embarrassment. It was true that he had only

that morning, on leaving Stettin, renewed a very slight former

acquaintance with General von Werben; but now, after he had been in

conversation with him all day, and had taken every opportunity of

showing attentions to his daughter, he could not well do otherwise than

declare, with a quiver of the lips, which was meant for a smile, that

he would share with them as formerly the pleasures, so now the

disagreeables of the journey. Should the worst come to the worst, the

Prussian Government would be able to console itself for the loss of a

president, who besides, as the father of six hopeful children, would

have his name handed down to posterity, and could therefore make no

claim upon the sympathy of his contemporaries.

Notwithstanding his resigned words, the worthy official was very

uncomfortable at heart. In secret he cursed his own inconceivable

thoughtlessness in having trusted himself to a "tub," merely to be at

home a day sooner, instead of waiting for the next day's mail-boat; he

cursed the General's "stupid security," and the young lady's

"coquettish affectation of courage," and when a few minutes later the

large boat was really launched, and in an incredibly short time, as it

seemed to him, filled with the happily small number of deck passengers,

and a few ladies and gentlemen from the after-cabin, and at first with

a few powerful strokes of the oars, and soon after with sails hoisted,

made all speed to the shore, he sighed deeply, and firmly resolved, at

whatever cost, even at that of a scornful smile from the young lady's

lips, that he also would leave the ship before night.

And night was approaching only too rapidly for his fears. The evening

glow in the western sky was fading with every minute, and from the

east, from the open sea, it grew darker and darker. How long would it

be before the land, which to his short-sighted eyes already appeared

only as an indistinct outline through the evening mists, would

disappear altogether from his sight?

And there could be no doubt, too, that the waves were rising higher

every minute, here and there even for the first time that day showing

crests of white foam, and breaking with ever-increasing force against

the unlucky ship! Added to this the horrible creaking of the yards, the

dismal howling of the wind in the rigging, the intolerable roaring and

hissing of the steam, which was being almost incessantly let off from

the overheated boiler! The boiler would blow up perhaps finally, and

the shattered limbs of the man who but now was buttoning up his

overcoat, would be sent flying hither and thither through the air.

The President grew so hot at this idea that he unbuttoned his coat and

then buttoned it up again as he was struck by the ice-cold wind.

"It is unendurable!" muttered he.

Elsa had long since observed how very little the President liked

remaining on board ship, and that he had only made up his mind to it

with evident unwillingness, out of consideration for his travelling

companions.

She had been maliciously amused at first with the embarrassment which

he tried to conceal, but now her good-nature conquered. He was after

all an elderly gentleman, and apparently not very strong, and a

civilian! he could not of course be expected to have either the

intrepid courage or the indifference to hardships of her father, who

had not even put on his greatcoat yet, and was now taking his usual

evening walk up and down the deck. But papa had made up his mind, once

for all, to remain; it would be quite useless to try to persuade him to

go. "_He_ must devise some means!" said she to herself.

Reinhold had disappeared after his last words with her father, and was

not now on the after-deck; she went forward, therefore, and found him

sitting on a great chest, looking through a pocket telescope towards

the shore so intently that she had come close to him before he remarked

her. He sprang hastily to his feet and turned towards her.

"How far have they got?" asked Elsa.

"They will land directly," he answered. "Will you look through this?"

He handed her the glass. At the moment when she touched it the metal

still retained some warmth from the hand which had held it. In general

this was not at all a pleasant sensation to her, but on this occasion

she did not perceive it. She thought of it for a moment as she tried to

bring the spot which he pointed out to her within the focus of the

glass.

The attempt was unsuccessful; she could see nothing but undefined mist.

"I would rather trust to my eyes!" cried she, putting down the

telescope. "I can see it so, quite plainly, there close in shore--in

the white streak. What is that?"

"The surf."

"What has become of the sail?"

"It has been taken in so as not to have too much way on as they run in.

But really you have a sailor's eye!"

Elsa smiled at the compliment, and Reinhold smiled too. Their looks

met, and remained turned upon each other.

"I have a request to make to you," said Elsa, without dropping her

eyes.

"And I was about to make one to you," answered he, looking steadily

into the brown stars which shone up towards him, "I wanted to ask you

also to go on shore. We shall be afloat in an hour, but the night will

be stormy, and we shall be obliged to anchor as soon as we have passed

Wissow Head." He pointed to the promontory. "Under the best of

circumstances the situation would not be pleasant, at the worst it

might be very unpleasant. I should like to know that you were safe from

either alternative."

"Thank you," said Elsa, "and now my request need not be made;" and she

told Reinhold why she had come.

"That happens most fortunately," cried he, "but there is not a moment

to lose. I will speak to your father immediately. We must go at once."

"We?"

"With your permission I will take you on shore myself."

"Thank you," said Elsa again, with a deep breath. She held out her hand

to him; he took the small delicate hand in his, and again their looks

met.

"That hand may be trusted," thought Elsa, "and the eyes too!" And aloud

she said: "You must not think, however, that I am afraid of remaining

here! it is really only on the poor President's account."

She withdrew her hand, and hastened away towards her father, who was

already surprised at her long absence, and now came in search of her.

In the act of following her, Reinhold saw lying at his feet a little

pale grey glove. She must have dropped it just now, as she took the

telescope.

He stooped quickly, picked it up, and put it in his pocket.

"She will not have that back again," said he to himself.

CHAPTER III.

Reinhold was right; there was not a moment to be lost. As the little

boat which he steered cut through the foaming waters, the sky was

gradually obscured by black clouds which threatened soon to extinguish

the last gleam of light in the west. In addition to this the wind,

which was blowing violently, veered suddenly round from south to north,

and it became necessary, in order to enable the boat to return more

quickly to the ship, to land at a different place from that where the

large boat, which they already saw on its way back, had discharged its

passengers. This had been at the fishing village of Ahlbeck, in the

centre of the bay, immediately under Wissow Head. They were obliged to

keep close to the wind, and more to the north, where there was hardly

space for a single hut, far less for a fishing village, on the narrow

beach under the bare dunes; and Reinhold might think himself fortunate

in being just able to bring the boat round by a bold manœuvre so near

to the shore, that the landing of the travellers with the few articles

of luggage which they had brought from the ship could be effected

without much difficulty.

"I am afraid we have only fallen from the frying-pan into the fire,"

said the President in a melancholy tone.

"It is a comfort to me that it is not our fault," answered the General,

not without some sharpness in his deep voice.

"Oh! certainly not, most surely not!" admitted the President; "_mea

maxima culpa!_ my own fault entirely, Fräulein von Werben. But you

must confess that our situation is deplorable, really miserably

deplorable!"

"I don't know," answered Elsa; "I think it is quite beautiful here."

"I congratulate you with all my heart," said the President; "but for my

part I should prefer a fire, a wing of chicken, and half a bottle of

St. Julien; but if it is a consolation only to have companions in

misfortune, it is a double one to know that what to the sober

experience of the one is a very real misfortune, appears to the

youthful fancy of the other as a romantic adventure."

The President had hit the mark, though he spoke in jest. The whole

thing appeared to Elsa as a romantic adventure, in which she found most

real and sincere pleasure. When Reinhold brought her the first news of

the threatening danger, she was certainly startled, but not for a

moment had she felt afraid, not even when angry men, shrieking women,

and crying children had hurried from the ship, which seemed doomed to

destruction, into the large boat, which tossed up and down on the dark

waves, while from the open sea the evening drew in darkly and gloomily.

The tall sailor with the bright blue eyes had said that there was no

danger; he must know; then why should she be afraid? And if danger

should arise, he was a man who would be sure to do the right thing at

the right moment, and would know how to meet the danger. This feeling

of security had not deserted her even when they came through the surf,

the little boat tossing about like a nutshell in the foaming waves, the

President as pale as death perpetually exclaiming, "Bless my soul!"

and even her father's grave face showing a shade of anxiety. She had

only looked towards the man at the helm, and the blue eyes had shone as

brightly as before, even more brightly as he smiled in answer to her

inquiring glance. Then as the boat ran ashore, and the sailors carried

the President, her father, and the two servants to land, and she stood

at the end meditating a bold spring, she had found herself suddenly

encircled by two strong arms, and so half carried, half springing, she

hardly knew how, landed on dry ground without wetting the sole of her

foot.

And so she now stood here, a few paces apart from the men, who were

consulting together, wrapped in her cloak, and with a feeling of such

happiness as she believed she had never yet experienced. How

wonderfully beautiful it was, too! Before her the dark, raging,

thundering, endless sea, over which the black and threatening night

drew on; right and left as far as the eye could see the line of white

foaming surf, the glorious moist wind blustering round her, howling in

her ears, blowing her dress about, even driving some flecks of foam in

her face; behind her the barren ghostly-looking dunes, on which, still

visible against the lighter western sky, the long bent-grass was

nodding and beckoning--whither? further into this delightful, charming

adventure, that was not ended yet, that could not end, that ought not

to end! it would be too hard.

The gentlemen came towards her.

"Elsa," said the General, "we have decided to make an expedition over

the dunes inland. The fishing hamlet at which the larger boat landed is

nearly a mile off, and the walk there in the deep sand would be too

fatiguing for our good friend the President. Besides, we should hardly

find any accommodation there."

"If only we do not lose our way on the dunes!" sighed the President.

"Captain Schmidt's knowledge of the ground will guarantee us against

that," said the General.

"I can hardly call it knowledge of the ground, General," replied

Reinhold. "I have only once, and that was six years ago, looked over

the country inland from the top of these dunes; but I distinctly

remember having seen a farmhouse, or something of the sort, in that

direction. I will answer for finding the place; but what sort of

accommodation there will be there I cannot venture to say."

"At any rate we cannot spend the night here," said the General; "so

forwards! Will you take my arm, Elsa?"

"No, thank you, papa. I can get up without it."

And Elsa sprang up the side of the dune after Reinhold, who, hastening

forward, had already reached the top; while her father and the

President followed more slowly, and the two servants with the baggage

brought up the rear.

"Well," cried Elsa gaily, as somewhat breathless she came up to

Reinhold, "are we at the end of our resources, like the President?"

"You may laugh," answered Reinhold, "but I begin to feel a little

anxious already about the responsibility I have taken on myself.

There--" and he pointed over some lower dunes inland where the

advancing evening mist obscured all individual objects--"it must be

there."

"Must be there if you are right! but must you be right?"

As if in answer to her mocking question, a light suddenly appeared in

the precise direction in which Reinhold's outstretched arm pointed. A

strange thrill of terror struck Elsa.

"Forgive me!" said she.

Reinhold did not know what her exclamation meant. At this moment the

others also surmounted the steep hill.

"Per aspera ad astra!" panted the President.

"I congratulate you, sir!" said the General.

"There was a good deal of luck in it," answered Reinhold modestly.

"And people must have luck, I suppose!" cried Elsa, who had quickly

conquered that curious feeling, and now relapsed into her gay spirits.

The little company proceeded farther over the dunes. Reinhold again in

front, while Elsa now kept with the other gentlemen.

"It is curious enough," said the General, "that our mishap should occur

just at this part of the coast. It really seems as if we were to be

punished for our opposition; and certainly if my opinion that a harbour

for men-of-war would be of no good here does remain unshaken, it seems

to me now that we ourselves have nearly suffered shipwreck here, that a

harbour of some sort----"

"Is an object devoutly to be wished!" cried the President; "heaven

knows it is. And when I think of the fearful cold I shall catch from

this nocturnal walk in the horrible wet sand, and that I might instead

be sitting in a comfortable railway carriage, and could sleep in my own

bed to-night, I repent of every word that I have spoken against the

railroad, and on account of which I have quarrelled with all our great

people here, and not least with Count Golm, whose friendship now would

be very convenient to us."

"How so?" asked the General.

"Castle Golm, according to my reckoning, is only four or five miles

inland from here; the little shooting-box on the Golmberg----"

"I remember," interrupted the General; "the second headland to the

north--on our right. We cannot be much more than a couple of miles from

it."

"You see," said the President, "how convenient that would be! and the

Count is probably there. To speak the truth, I have been secretly

counting on his hospitality, in case, as I greatly fear, we cannot find

decent accommodation at the farmhouse, and you will not overcome your

objection to going to Warnow, which certainly would be the simplest and

most comfortable arrangement."

The President, who had spoken with many pauses and pantings for breath,

here stood still; the General answered in a morose tone:

"You know that I am not on terms with my sister."

"But you said that the Baroness was in Italy."

"She was to return about this time; has perhaps already returned, and

if she were not I would not go to Warnow, if it were but ten paces from

here. But we must hasten to get under shelter, or to all that we have

already gone through we shall add a thorough ducking."

For some time past, in fact, single drops had been falling from the

thickening masses of cloud, and they had just with quickened steps

reached the farmyard, and groped their way between two barns or

outhouses, over very uneven ground, to the house from whose window the

light gleamed, when the storm, which had long been threatening, broke

in full fury.

CHAPTER IV.

It was a small, low house, strangely disproportioned to the tall,

broad-shouldered man, whose attention had been called by the furious

barking of the yard-dog, and who now, thrusting back a yelping cur with

his foot, received the belated guests in the doorway which he nearly

filled. Small and low also was the room on the left hand into which he

led them, and very scanty its furniture.

There was another room opposite, said Herr Pölitz; but he was not quite

sure whether it was in order. He hoped, too, that they would excuse his

wife; she could not come to them at once, but would soon have the

honour of waiting upon them.

As the man spoke he arranged chairs with awkward politeness at the

large round table which stood before the hard little sofa, and invited

them to sit down. His hospitable efforts were evidently well meant, but

there was a depressed tone in his voice which did not escape Elsa. She

begged to be allowed to go in search of the mistress of the house, and

without waiting for permission left the room, but came back in a few

minutes, and after sending away the farmer under the pretence that his

wife wanted to speak to him, said:

"We cannot remain here; these good people, with whom affairs do not

seem to be very prosperous, have two sick children; the poor woman does

not know which way to turn; it would be cruel to add to her anxiety by

asking her to entertain so many guests."

"Then there really remains nothing to be done but to claim hospitality

from the Count," said the President, turning to the General; "the Count

and I are the best friends in the world; our little differences are

quite beside the question in such a case as this. Besides, he is very

likely not at his shooting-lodge, and we shall only have to do with his

steward. It is altogether my opinion that we should migrate to

Golmberg. The only question is how to get there?"

The farmer, who had meanwhile returned to the room, would not hear of

the proposal. The weather was frightful, and even should the rain soon

stop, the roads were bad; his wife would manage; the gentlefolk would

make allowances.

The gentlemen looked irresolutely at each other, but Elsa stood firm.

"Men know nothing about such things," said she; "this is woman's

business, and I have settled it all with your wife, Herr Pölitz. She is

making me a cup of coffee now, and the gentlemen shall have some brandy

and water. And while we refresh ourselves Herr Pölitz shall send a man

on horseback to announce us at Golmberg, so that we may not arrive

quite unexpectedly. If the Count is at home we owe him so much

consideration; if he is not, so much the better--we shall only have to

do with the steward. Then when the rain has stopped, Herr Pölitz will

have the horses put to--"

"I have only a cart to offer you," said the farmer.

"And that will be quite sufficient," cried Elsa; "a carriage would not

be at all suitable for shipwrecked people. And now, Herr Pölitz, do you

be as good and wise as your good, wise little wife!"

She gave her two hands to the farmer. There was a strange quiver in the

man's sunburnt face.

"You are a good young lady," he murmured, as he tightly pressed the

little hands that lay in his.

The President had already taken a leaf from his pocket-book, and sat

down at the farmer's little desk to write his announcement.

"What did you say was your name, Captain?" he asked over his shoulder.

Reinhold was no longer in the room; he must just have left it. The maid

who came in with the coffee told them that the gentleman had put on his

macintosh in the outer-room, and said that he must see what had become

of the steamer.

"A true sailor!" said the General. "He cannot rest in peace; it would

be just the same with me."

"I suppose we must include him? what do you think?" asked the President

in a low voice of Elsa.

"Certainly!" said Elsa, with decision.

"Perhaps he does not wish it?"

"Possibly; but we must not leave the decision to him. His name is

Schmidt."

"Classical name," murmured the President, bending over his paper.

The messenger was sent off; the farmer came in to keep the gentlemen

company, while Elsa went back to the wife in the smoky little kitchen

to tell her what had been arranged.

"I must thank you," said the woman; "but it is hard, very hard----" She

pressed the corner of her apron to her eyes, and turned away to the

fire. "I do not mean about thanking you," she continued; "but I am

sorry for my husband; it is the first time I am sure that he ever

allowed guests to leave his house in this way."

"It is only on account of the children," said Elsa.

"Yes, yes," said the woman; "but we have had the children ill before,

without being obliged to trouble other people about it. That was when

we lived at Swantow, three miles from here; that is the Count's

property too. We married there six years ago, but times were too hard,

and the rent too high."

"Could not the Count have helped you?"

"The Count?"

The woman looked up with a sad smile on her worn face. She seemed about

to say something, but left it unsaid, and busied herself silently over

her pots.

"Is not the Count a kind man?" asked Elsa.

"He is not married," answered the woman; "he does not know what a

father and mother feel when they must leave the house and farm where

their first children were born, and where they had hoped to see them

all grow up; and we should have got on here, though the rent is too

high here also, if it had not been for the war. My husband had to go

out with the Landwehr, and our two best men as well. I worked hard,

even beyond my strength, but what can a poor woman do? Ah! my dear

young lady, you know nothing of such trouble, and God grant that you

never may!"

Elsa had seated herself on a stool, and was gazing into the flames. If

she had known this before! She had thought that the Count was married.

Strange, strange, that she had not asked about it; that the others had

not mentioned it! If he should be at the castle, she was with her

father and the good President certainly; but when Aunt Sidonie heard of

it she would think it very improper; and if only he were a nice man, so

that she could say on meeting him that she had already heard so much

good of him from his tenants--it was most vexatious. Was it too late to

change?

One of the children in the room next to the kitchen began to cry

loudly; the farmer's wife hastened away.

"It is most vexatious," repeated Elsa.

A pot on the fire threatened to boil over; she moved it on one side,

not without blackening her hands with soot. The wind, which roared down

the chimney, drove the smoke in her face. The ill-fitting window

rattled; the child in the next room cried more pitifully.

"Poor woman," sighed Elsa; "there is something terrible in being poor.

I wonder whether _he_ is poor? he does not seem rich. How does a

merchant captain like that live when he is not at sea? Perhaps after

all he is married, as the Count is unmarried; or does he love some one

in a distant country, of whom he thinks while he paces the deck so

restlessly? I must find that out before we part; I shall find an

opportunity. And then I shall ask him to congratulate her from me, and

to tell her that she will have a husband of whom she may be proud, of

whom any girl might be proud. I mean a girl in his own station. For

instance I--absurd! one does not marry for a pair of honest eyes,

particularly when disinheritance would be the result of such a

mesalliance! It is a curious arrangement, but Schmidt is not a pretty

name: Frau Schmidt!"

She laughed, and then suddenly her heart softened strangely, and tears

came into her eyes. She felt for her handkerchief, and found something

hard in her pocket. It was the little compass which he had given to her

in the boat, when she was sitting by him and wanted to know the

direction in which he was steering. She opened the case and looked

inside. On the cover was prettily inlaid in gold letters the name,

Reinhold Schmidt; and the needle trembled and pointed away from her,

and always quivered in the same direction towards the name, however

often she turned and twisted the case in her hands.

"As if it were seeking Reinhold Schmidt!" said Elsa; "how faithful it

is! And I would be faithful if I once loved, and would stand by my

husband, and cherish and tend the children--and in six years' time look

as faded and pale and worn, as the poor woman here, who must certainly

have been a very pretty girl. Thank heaven that I am not in love!"

She shut the case, slipped it back into her pocket, and looking into

the little room where all was now still, said: "The water boils, but

remain there, dear Frau Pölitz. I will take it in to the gentlemen;"

and to herself she said: "He must be back now."

Reinhold had left the room and the house, to look after the steamer,

about which he was still anxious.

The storm had broken sooner and more violently than he had expected. If

the ship had not got afloat beforehand, much harm, perhaps the worst

might be feared. He reproached himself for not having remained on

board, where his presence at this moment might be so urgently needed.

It was true that it was only by agreeing to go himself that they had

overcome the obstinacy of the General, who would certainly otherwise

have remained, and his daughter with him. But what did he owe them? For

the matter of that he did not owe anything to the ship--certainly not:

and the obstinate old Captain had bluntly and flatly rejected his

advice. But yet--it is the soldier's duty to go to the front when the

cannon are thundering; he knew that from the war; he had himself often

done it with his breathless panting comrades, all inspired with but one

idea: Shall we arrive in time? And now before him the thunder rolled

nearer and nearer, as he hastily climbed the hill; but what good could

he do now?

Thank God! the ship was out of danger! There--a couple of miles farther

to the south--easily visible to the quick eyes in spite of night, and

rain, and distance--glimmered a spark of light. And now the spark

vanished; it could only be behind Wissow Head, where, on the best

anchorage-ground, the steamer might peacefully weather out the storm.

Thank God.

He had foreseen and foretold it; and yet it seemed to him as a special

favour from heaven. And after that he could humbly submit to the pain

of having seen that beautiful girl for the last time. Yes, for the last

time. At the moment when they reached the safe shelter to which he had

promised to guide them, his services ended. Whatever happened now was

nothing to him; that was the General's affair. If they chose to move to

the castle, for him there would be always a place at the farmhouse. He

had only now to return once more, and say, "Farewell!--farewell!"

He said it twice--three times! He said it again and again as if it were

the word that sounded in every wave that broke in thunder on the shore

below him; the word that was whispered in the rough grass under his

feet; the word that the wind moaned and wailed in long melancholy tones

through the barren dunes; the word that sounded at every beat of his

heart on which her glove lay, and on which he now kept his hand pressed

close, as if the storm might tear his treasure from him, the only token

that in future could say to him it was something more after all than a

wild, delicious dream!

How long he thus stood dreaming in the dark blustering night he knew

not, when he at last roused himself to return. The storm and the rain

were less violent; here and there a star shone through the driving

clouds. An hour at least must have gone by; he should certainly not

find her now. And yet he walked quicker and quicker through the narrow

sandy path which led through the fields to the farm. In the shortest

possible time he had reached it, and stood now in the entrance between

the two outhouses. Lighted lanterns were flickering about in the little

farmyard, and before the house shone brighter lights, in whose glow he

distinguished the outline of a carriage and horses and some dark

figures busied about the carriage. They were not gone then!

A sudden fear thrilled through him. Should he plunge back into the

darkness? Should he go forward? Perhaps they had only waited for him,

were still waiting? Well, then, so be it; an obligation of courtesy! It

would cost nothing to any one but himself.

CHAPTER V.

The President had not been waiting for his return, nor even for that of

the mounted messenger, but rather to give the storm time to abate a

little.

"Only a very little," said he; "it cannot signify whether we arrive

half an hour earlier or later; and as for our nocturnal drive in an

open cart on our roads, my dear young lady, we shall always experience

that soon enough and painfully enough."

The President smiled, and so did Elsa, from politeness; but her smile

had little heart in it. She felt uneasy and restless, she herself

hardly knew why. Was it because their stay in the low, cramped, stuffy

little house was being prolonged? Was it because their departure could

not be many minutes delayed, and the Captain had not yet returned? The

gentlemen could not understand his long absence either; could he have

lost his way on the dunes in the darkness? It seemed hardly possible

for a man like him. Could he have hastened to the fishing village to

procure help for the endangered steamer? But a farm-servant, who had

just come in from the shore, and--like all the people about here--was

thoroughly at home in all seafaring matters, had seen the steamer

steering southwards, and disappearing behind Wissow Head. That

supposition therefore fell through. But what could it be?

"Have I affronted him in any way?" Elsa asked herself. "He has seen me

to-day for the first time; he does not, cannot know that it is my way

to joke and laugh at things; that I do it with everybody. Aunt Sidonie

scolds me enough about it. But after all, she is right. One may do it

to one's equals, even to superiors--towards inferiors, never. Inferior?

He is a gentleman, whatever else he is. I have nothing to reproach

myself with, but that I have treated him as if he were our equal, as I

would have treated any of our young officers."

She went back to the sick-room to ask the woman whether it were really

impossible to procure a doctor. The farmer, to whom she had addressed

the same inquiry, had shaken his head.

"The young lady thinks it would be so easy," said he to the gentlemen,

when Elsa had left the room; "but the nearest doctor is at Prora, and

that is a three hours' drive, and three back, besides his time here.

Who can blame the doctor if he thinks twice before he makes up his mind

to the journey? In summer-time, and fine weather, he might come by

boat, that is easier and simpler; but now, with our roads----"

"Yes, yes," said the President; "the roads, the roads! The Government

cannot do as much there as it would like. The communes moan and groan

as soon as we touch the tender place. Your Count, Herr Pölitz, is one

of the worst grumblers at the Communal Assemblies!"

"Notwithstanding that he throws all the burden upon us," answered the

farmer; "and he has made our lives hard enough already. Yes, sir, I say

it openly; and I have said it to the Count's own face."

"And what do you think about the railroad?" asked the President, with a

glance at the General.

A bitter smile came upon the farmer's face.

"What I think of it?" he returned. "Well, sir, we all had to sign the

petition. It looked very well upon paper, but unfortunately we do not

believe a word of it. What do we want with a railway? We have no money

to spend upon travelling, and the little wool and corn that we sell

when things go well, we could carry to the market at Prora in an hour

and a half, if we only had a high-road, or even a good road of any

sort, as we easily might have if the Count and the rest of the gentry

would put their shoulders to the wheel. And then, as you know, sir, the

sea is our real high-road, and will always be so; it is shorter, and

certainly cheaper than the railway."

"But as to the harbour!" asked the President, again looking at the

General.

"I do not understand anything about that, sir," answered the farmer;

"the General will know more about it. For my part I only know that it

would be very difficult to build a harbour in our sand, which is blown

by the wind here to-day and there to-morrow, and that we country people

and the sailors and fishermen need no harbour, whether for war or

peace; and that the best and only thing for us would be just a

breakwater, and a certain amount of regular dredging. Railroad,

harbour, ah! yes, they will swallow up many a tree that will be cut

down for them and turned into money, and many an acre of sand which is

not worth sixpence now, and many an acre of good land too, on which now

some poor man drags on his life in the sweat of his brow, who will then

have to take his staff in his hand, and set out for America, if there

is still room there for the like of us."

The man's rough voice trembled as he spoke the last words, and he

passed the back of his sunburnt hand across his forehead. The President

looked at the General again, but this time not inquiringly as before.

The General rose from his seat, walked a few paces about the room, and

went to the window which he opened.

"The messenger is a long time," said he.

"I will go and look after him," said the farmer, leaving the room.

The General shut the window, and turned quickly to the President:

"Do you know, I wish we had not sent to Golmberg. Our visit there,

however involuntary it may be, puts us under an obligation to the

Count, and--"

The General rubbed his high forehead that was already getting bald at

the temples, and angrily pulled his thick grey moustache; the President

shrugged his shoulders.

"I am in a much more ticklish position," said he.

"It is different with you," answered the General; "you are acquainted

with him, on friendly terms: you have been so, at any rate. And you

cannot altogether avoid intercourse with him; business must bring you

constantly together; this is only one instance amongst many. I, on the

other hand--"

The President smiled.

"My dear General," said he, "you speak as if intercourse with the Count

were a serious matter in itself! Confess now, it is not the stupid

business of the railway and harbour that have set you against the

Count, but the conversation of the worthy farmer."

"Are the man's complaints unfounded?" asked the General, turning on his

heel.

The President again shrugged his shoulders.

"That is as you choose to consider it. The Count might perhaps do more

for his tenants, but we must not be too hard upon him. The property was

heavily embarrassed when he came into it as a very young man. To retain

it at all it was necessary to raise the rents as high as possible. He

was not in the happy position of your late brother-in-law, who allowed

himself to be guided rather by the impulses of his kind heart than by

economic considerations in his leases. The Warnow property falls in

next Easter, does it not? You will be obliged then, as one of the

trustees, to concern yourself more particularly about the condition of

affairs here. Who knows whether this day year you will lend so willing

an ear to the complaints of people whose discontent with everything has

become a second nature?"

"I shall then, as I have hitherto invariably done, abstain as far as

possible from all direct interference in the matter," answered the

General hastily. "You know that I have only once inspected the

property, as was my duty when, six and twenty years ago, Herr von

Wallbach, Councillor Schieler, and I had to undertake the care of the

estate after my brother-in-law's death, and since then I have left

everything in Schieler's hands. I have never since been here, and

now----"

"You are here," cried the President, "by the strangest accident,

undoubtedly; but a wise man, and a soldier too, must allow for strange

accidents in his calculations. I think the rain has stopped, and if we

cannot remain here, it is high time to mount our cart. I had almost

said the scaffold."

The President put aside the rug which he had carefully spread over his

knees, rose from the corner of the little sofa, and came up to the

General at the window. At this moment the yard-dog began to bark

furiously, the farmer's little terrier rushed yelping out at the

housedoor; two bright lights appeared between the outhouses, followed

soon by others, and the trampling of horses and rolling of wheels

sounded on the uneven pavement.

"It is the Count himself, I will wager!" cried the President,

forgetting all the General's scruples and considerations at the joyful

sight of the carriage. "Thank heaven! we shall not at any rate be

tortured! My dear Count, how very kind of you!"

And he cordially stretched out both hands to the gentleman who quickly

came in at the door which the farmer opened for him.

CHAPTER VI.

The Count responded no less cordially to the President's greeting.

"Kind!" he exclaimed, holding fast the other's hands; "and kind of me?

Why it is kind indeed, wonderfully kind; but of you, of all of you, to

be cast here on the heights of Golmberg, to be thrown upon this most

inhospitable shore--inhospitable because no creature ever comes to us,

or can come from that side. And now may I ask you to be so kind as to

introduce me to General von Werben?"

He turned towards the General, who answered his extremely courteous bow

with some reserve.

"It is not the first time that I have had the pleasure," said he; "I

had the honour formerly at Versailles----"

"I could not have believed that General von Werben would have

remembered so insignificant a matter," cried the Count, "a poor knight

of St. John!"

"Our meeting occurred on a very remarkable day," said the General; "on

the 18th of January."

"The day of the proclamation of the German Empire!" interrupted the

President, to whom the General's last remark, and the tone in which he

made it, seemed of doubtful courtesy; "and here comes our heroine!

Fräulein Elsa von Werben, here is our deliverer in the time of need:

Count von Golm."

"I am highly honoured," said the Count.

Elsa, who had just entered the room, answered only by a bow.

"Now we are all assembled," cried the President, rubbing his hands.

"Captain Schmidt is still missing," said Elsa, looking beyond the Count

to her father.

"I am only afraid that we shall put the Count's patience to too great a

trial," answered the General in a tone of annoyance.

"I put myself absolutely at your disposal," said the Count; "but may I

ask what the question is?"

"There is another gentleman with us, a captain in the merchant

service," said the General.

"Whom I mentioned to you," interrupted the President. "He went out

again after our arrival here to look after the steamer. I almost think

that he must have lost his way among the sandhills, or that some

accident has happened to him."

"Some men with lanterns should be sent after him," exclaimed the Count.

"I will give the order at once."

And he moved towards the door.

"You need not trouble yourself," cried Elsa; "it has already been done

at my request."

"Oh!" said the Count, with a smile; "indeed!"

The blood rose to Elsa's cheek. As she came into the room, and the

Count turned quickly towards her--with his regular features and clear

bright colouring, set off by a fair moustache--she had thought him

good-looking, even handsome; the smile made him positively ugly. Why

should he smile? She drew herself up to her full height.

"Captain Schmidt rendered us the most essential service during our

passage; we have to thank him that we are here in safety. It seems to

me only our duty not to leave him in the lurch now."

"But, my dear madam, I am quite of your opinion!" said the Count, and

smiled again.

The veins in Elsa's temples were throbbing. She cast a reproachful

glance at her father. Why did he leave her to defend a cause which

after all was his? She did not know that her father was extremely vexed

at the turn the conversation had taken, and was only doubting whether

he could not use the Captain's absence as a pretext to avoid for

himself and his daughter at least the Count's hospitality. She did not

hear either with what marked emphasis he agreed to the necessity for

waiting still some time longer, as she had left the room after her last

words.

In the little entrance, in which through the wide open door the light

from the carriage lamps now brightly shone, she stood still and pressed

her slender hands against her brow. What had come over her so suddenly?

Why had she been so eager? To provoke a stranger's smile by her

over-eagerness, to draw upon herself the suspicion of taking a too

lively interest in the person, when it was only the cause she cared

about, only that a debt of courtesy, to say nothing of gratitude, might

be paid? Supposing the people who seemed to be just leaving the yard

with their lanterns should not find him? How long might she still wait?

When ought she to say, We must start? Or, supposing he returned only to

say that he was not thinking of going with them, and that childish

scene had been acted for nothing? For the third time, and now with

right and reason, the Count might smile.

"That I could not bear!" said Elsa, and stamped her foot.

A figure stood in the outer doorway; his wet macintosh shining in the

light of the lanterns, the waterproof cap shining, and the eyes in the

brown-bearded face shining too--and it all looked so odd and so funny,

that Elsa laughed aloud, and laughing exclaimed:

"Have you come straight out of the water, Captain Schmidt? They are

getting frightened about you in here. Make haste and come in. We must

be off at once."

"I had thought of remaining here," said Reinhold.

Elsa's laugh was checked. She made a step towards Reinhold:

"I wish you would come with us. You must."

She disappeared into the passage which led on the right to the kitchen

and the children's room. Had it been jest or earnest? Her voice had

trembled so oddly at the words, and her large eyes had shone so

strangely!

The door opened; the General appeared on the threshold, with the two

other gentlemen behind him.

"Ah, Captain Schmidt!" said the General.

"At last!" exclaimed the President. "You must tell us by-and-by where

you have been hiding. This is Captain Schmidt, Count Golm. You are

ready, I suppose, Fräulein von Werben?"

"I am ready," said Elsa, who, in hat and cloak, accompanied by the

farmer's wife, appeared again in the entrance. "I think we are all

ready, are we not, Captain Schmidt?"

"At your orders," answered Reinhold.

"Well, then, good-bye, dear Frau Pölitz! a thousand, thousand thanks

for your kindness! and as to the children, you must really send for the

doctor, or you will wear yourself to death."

Elsa had spoken the last words so loud, that the Count could not but

hear them.

"Are your children ill, Frau Pölitz?" he asked.

"Very ill," answered Elsa. "And Frau Pölitz declares that she cannot

expect the doctor to come so far.

"I will myself send from Golmberg to Prora," said the Count hastily:

"of course; depend upon it Frau Pölitz! the doctor shall be here

to-night--to-night!"

"Then we will not lose another moment," cried Elsa, hastening to lead

the way to the carriage.

CHAPTER VII.

The Count had made his arrangements very comfortably. A groom with a

lantern rode in front; next came the close carriage, in which the

General, Elsa, and the President took their seats; then a dogcart with

himself and Reinhold; finally a small luggage-cart for the servants,

who were joined by his own man.

In the luggage-cart they were very cheerful.

"Do you always carry so much baggage with you?" asked the Count's

servant, giving the carpet-bag a contemptuous kick.

"The rest is on board ship still," answered Johann; "but the President

never takes much with him; little and good is what he says."

"Just like my General," said August; "it is always the case with us

military men. In France we had only one trunk from first to last."

"We had six," said the Count's servant.

"Were you there too, then?"

"Of course, as knights of St. John."

"That is a fine thing!"

"It was very fine for me!" cried the man. "I would go again to-morrow:

wine and women to one's heart's content. My master knows what is what,

I can tell you. I should not stay six weeks with a man like your

General."

"It is not so bad, after all," said August; "if one only does one's

confounded duty one can get on with him; it is not so easy, I allow,

with the Fräulein."

"Oh! but she looked a very good sort."

"Yes, she! but the old lady, the General's sister; we have no wife, you

know."

"I never serve in a house where there is a wife," said the Count's

servant, "and above all children."

"Then you would not do with us," said Johann; "we have got a wife and a

houseful of young gentlemen and ladies; one of them is married already

even. How is it with you?"

"Oh! we are a widower," said August, "not long since, after I came into

his service, that may be about five years ago. Since then Fräulein

Sidonie is by way of managing the household--I should think so! That is

to say, she would like to manage it; but as far as our young lady can,

she won't let it be taken out of her hands. Thank goodness! The old

lady was a maid of honour once, at a court where the very mice don't

get enough to eat. That is always the worst sort. We have got a young

gentleman, too, the lieutenant. Ah! he's a thoughtless one. Good Lord!

whatever comes into his hands doesn't stay long! But I have no harm to

say of him; live and let live is a good motto. He throws a hard word at

your head, and a thaler after it. If he only had more of them!"

"With my old gentleman there are no hard words, but no thalers either,"

said Johann.

"And with my Count hard words enough, but no thalers," grumbled the

other.

"Well, but you said--"

"Oh, one must understand how to manage it, you know. In perquisites one

can make it up."

"Ah; in that way!" said Johann.

"That is another matter," said August.

"For instance this bottle of Cognac here," cried the Count's servant,

pulling out a flask; "how do you like that?"

"Not so bad," said August.

"Particularly in this cold!" said Johann, "it is like December!"

While the servants passed the bottle merrily round, amid talk and

laughter, in the first carriage, the President, who now that he foresaw

a comfortable end to his uncomfortable adventure, had quite recovered

his good-humour, had almost alone sustained the burden of conversation.

As a suitable introduction to their visit to the Castle, he gave a

succinct sketch of the Count's genealogy. The family was one of the

oldest in the island, probably even older than the Princes of Prora,

whom they had formerly rivalled in wealth, influence, and power.

Latterly they had certainly been going down hill, especially from the

extravagance of the great grandfather of the present man, the builder

of the castles of Golm and Golmberg, who had spent also fabulous sums

upon the celebrated picture gallery at Golm, and the collection of

armour at the shooting-lodge.

The grandfather, a careful man, had settled the fragments of the

property in an entail--fortunately!--for the father of the present

Count, his late dear old friend, had followed in the steps of his

grandfather.

In the character of the present man, as so often happened in old

families, might be seen blended in the most curious manner both his

ancestral qualities, frugality and extravagance. At one moment you

would take him for a mere fine gentleman, the next he would surprise

you by the display of qualities which you would only expect to find in

a speculative man of business.

"Such talents do not make the descendant of an ancient family more

respectable in my eyes, Herr von Sanden," said the General.

In the darkness of the carriage the President allowed himself an

ironical smile; the General called him for the first time to-day by his

own name, evidently to remind him that he too was of an ancient family.

"Neither do they in mine," replied he; "but I am not now criticising,

only characterising."

"There are some characteristics which criticise--and judge themselves."

"You are sharp, General; sharp and severe, as a soldier should be; I,

as a Government official, having more to do with worldly business than

I very often like, am glad to keep to the good old saying 'Judge not,

that you be not judged.'"

"And I gladly hold to another, which, if not so sacred, is at least as

old, perhaps older; as old, that is, as nobility itself--_Noblesse

oblige_!"

The President smiled again in the darkness.

"A two-edged saying," said he, "at all times; but more so now than

ever."

"Why so?"

"Because our situation was never so precarious as it is now. In the

dusty arena in which, in this levelling century of ours, the battle for

existence must be fought out, we have long stood on the same ground

with the classes which have been pressing upon us from behind, or

rather indeed are already against us; but sun and wind are not evenly

distributed. Many weapons, of which the middle classes avail themselves

with immense success, are forbidden to us, for _noblesse oblige_. Very

fine! We have no longer any special privileges--Heaven forbid!--but

special duties enough. We are to keep our position in the state, and in

society, and always to preserve our superior moral qualities! And often

enough that is a very difficult matter, sometimes impossible; it is

expecting a man to square the circle! Take such a position as the

Count's here. He did not choose it for himself; he was born to it. He

came into a mass of debts, which he might no doubt have lessened by

mere humdrum frugality; but it would have been a long process, for a

high-spirited young man inconveniently long. He thinks now that he has

discovered a way by which he may attain the eagerly-desired end in the

shortest possible time, and make good all the sins of his forefathers

at one blow. And if our ancestors do not, as in this case, make our

lives a burden to us, then our descendants do it. Nine-tenths of our

nobility could tell you a tale about that, and I among others. The

proletariate of officials is no chimera, but sober reality; and I wish

to Heaven I could drive my six-in-hand through life over a smoother

road than we are condemned to travel upon here; for what sins of our

ancestors or descendants I know not. _Mon dieu!_ I think the Count

must mean to show us the necessity of the railroad, which he is so

certain--Oh! it really is abominable. It is impossible to talk

comfortably when one's words are so shaken and jolted out of one's

mouth."

The President was not sorry to break off a conversation which was taken

up in such a very different spirit on the other side. He did not know

how disagreeable the turn it had lately taken must be to the General,

to whose circumstances every word fitted so cruelly, who was so

painfully reminded of these circumstances by the situation in which

they now were! How he had hated this part of the country for many a

long year! He had avoided setting foot in it as far as was possible,

notwithstanding the pressing occasion for doing so caused by his

trusteeship for his deceased brother-in-law's estates. He had even, for

the first and last time in his life, almost neglected his official duty

when the project of the harbour had first arisen, and instead of

informing himself on the spot of the state of matters, he had sent

Captain von Schönau here in his place, and had even transferred to

Colonel Sattelstädt the duty which properly fell to himself of making a

report upon the business. And now after all he found himself here

shaken and jolted over these horrible roads, and with all his gloomiest

thoughts reawakened in him. It was a miserable irony of fate, but he

had played into its hands by his foolish weakness. They might so

perfectly have remained on board ship, and would have been spared all

these delays and discomforts, all the considerations that must be

attended to, and the obligations that must be undertaken.

And then Elsa's extraordinary behaviour to the Count! To make a request

of him at her first meeting with a man whom he would so gladly have

avoided, and whose civilities were already oppressive to him! As if

they had not enough to do to think of themselves! What in the world did

it signify to her how or whether these farmers got the doctor? No, no!

it was a part of Elsa's character to give help wherever she could; and

here as ever she had shown herself his good noble-hearted daughter; but

it was unlucky for all that, very unlucky!

While her father thus worked himself into worse and worse spirits, a

shade of melancholy had fallen even upon Elsa's cheerful temper. She

had hardly heard anything of the conversation between the two men. She

was meditating uneasily upon the nature of the request that she had

made, at least indirectly, to the Count; but there had been such a

despairing look on the pale face of the poor farmer's wife at the last

moment, as she came out of the sick children's room to take leave of

her guests, that she had followed the impulse which crossed her mind

without considering whether she thus put herself into a false position.

He might take it as he pleased; so much the worse for him, if he did

not take it as he ought.

Could she with a good conscience say the same as regarded Captain

Schmidt? She was now nearly certain that he had only remained absent so

long to allow them to drive away,--to separate himself from them for

good or for evil.

Why should he leave them? Perhaps he was not at his ease with them;

perhaps it was unpleasant and awkward for him to join in the society

that he would find at the castle? to be drawn into the conversation

which would arise at table, and in which he could not take a part?

which he would probably not even understand! And then to see him

sitting there, confused, awkward! the lips compelled to silence which

had given the brief words of command with such strong, clear tones,

amidst the howling of the wind and the thundering of the waves! and the

blue eyes troubled and confused which had shone so brightly in the hour

of danger. What a pity to lose the beautiful, delightful recollection,

as if a successful sketch were to be spoiled by adding careless

inappropriate touches!

And what would he think of her insisting upon his joining their party

again? For she really had insisted upon it! What in the world had she

been thinking of? Had she really only wanted to look for a few hours

longer at the handsome sunburnt face and the blue eyes, in sheer

defiance of the Count, in whose face the question, "Am I not a handsome

man?" was so clearly written. What were the two talking about? or were

they sitting as silently together as she in her narrow prison here, to

the close atmosphere of which it was, of course, owing that her heart

was beating so nervously!--Oh!

The front wheels stuck fast in one of the deep ruts made by heavy

waggons in the soft sandy soil, the spirited horses started forward,

and Elsa fell into the arms of the President, who was sitting opposite

to her.

"I must apologise for the length of my unfortunate nose," said the

President in a melancholy voice, wiping away the tears which ran down

his thin cheeks.

Elsa laughed, and laughed the more heartily from the absurd contrast of

this ridiculous scene to the gloomy and sentimental thoughts from which

she had been so suddenly startled.

The gentlemen in the other carriage had had no reason to complain of

want of fresh air. After the heavy rain it had really grown cold; and

though their almost constantly uphill road lay mostly through thick

woods, where the great beeches gave them some shelter, the east wind

struck them all the more sharply at the open parts which they had to

pass. The Count was freezing, notwithstanding his cloak; and he took

for mere perversity or bravado Reinhold's assurance that he was too

much inured to wind and weather to feel cold now, and that he really

did not require the rug offered to him. The fellow was a most

unnecessary and burdensome addition to the party. On his account he had

given up the fourth seat in the close carriage, and therewith the

neighbourhood of that charming girl, very likely quite unnecessarily.

In the haste with which, on his return from shooting, he had read

the President's note, he had taken the captain spoken of for some

aide-de-camp or other member of the General's staff, to whom he must of

course pay proper attention. He had now discovered, to his

astonishment, that he was only a merchant captain, whose acquaintance

with the rest of the party was but a few hours old, who appeared to

have been of some small service during the passage from the steamer to

the shore; and who, if it was necessary to take him with them at all,

might have found a place in the luggage-cart. What was he to say to the

fellow? Was there any occasion indeed for speaking to him at all? The

Count came to the conclusion that there was no occasion, and that he

did more than could be required of him in letting fall from time to

time a few words about the roads, the weather, or such matters.

Reinhold, who did not feel quite sure if these brief utterances were

fragments of a soliloquy, or awkward attempts to begin a conversation,

answered when it seemed required of him, and at other times pursued his

own thoughts.

There, on the dusky background of the wind-stirred trees, he saw her

again as he had seen her to-day for the first time against the blue of

the morning sky. Again he saw the slight graceful figure, and the fair

face with its delicate yet expressive features; again the brown eyes

shone upon him which had looked at him so mockingly and fearlessly, and

then so gravely and severely.

Was it an enchantment? He had seen more beautiful women without being

so struck with their appearance: he had thought himself in love,

perhaps had loved, but never at first sight; bit by bit the feeling had

grown--but here it had come upon him like a storm, like a whirlwind,

which threw all his sailing-gear into confusion, and gave no time for

reefing and tacking, tore down masts and rigging, made all steering of

the ship impossible, and tossed the helpless wreck from wave to wave.

What business had he, a stranger to the sphere in which she moved, to

be thinking of such things? Were not these foolish aimless fancies

childish even in his own eyes? Was he now to make himself ridiculous to

other eyes, perhaps to hers? Had he not already done so when he

unresistingly obeyed her command? Would she not say to him scornfully:

"I only wanted to see if you really were such a helpless, poor-spirited

fool"?

Strange! that now, just now, the most terrible moment of his life

should recur to his memory, when, riding alone through the Cordilleras

from Santiago to Mexico, he was taken prisoner by Indians between

Mazatlan and Inpic, forced to ride at full speed through mountain

gulleys, away from the track into the desert, with the fear that the

end of the ride might be a couple of shots, and a bleeding corpse

falling from the saddle, and writhing in the last death-agony on the

dried-up grass.

The only apparent chance of escaping with his life lay in the absolute

obedience with which he complied with every order of the Indians, and

yet he found it easier to resolve to extinguish that last ray of hope,

and begin the mad struggle for freedom, than any longer to endure the

shame of being in the power of these wretches. But a man can snatch

from his holsters a pistol, overlooked by the robbers, and, setting

spurs to his horse, plunge from the steep path down the sides of the

ravine, so as at least to die in his own fashion; while he cannot jump

from the seat of a smart dog-cart, into which he has climbed at the

command of a pretty girl, and take refuge in the forest, even if the

fine gentleman sitting beside him had no objection to such a flight,

and would merely laugh at it.

"Here we are!" said the Count.

They had come to an opening in the forest, in the centre of which stood

a stately building, flanked as it seemed with towers, and whose windows

were brightly illuminated. The carriages rolled quickly over the smooth

approach, and stopped at the entrance, from which several servants now

came forward, to assist the visitors to alight.

CHAPTER VIII.

The President had remarked in his note that the want of a mistress of

the house might be felt by the young lady of their party, but as the

want was one that could not be at once made good, he promised the Count

absolution beforehand. The Count had immediately sent off a mounted

messenger to his neighbour, Herr von Strummin, with the pressing

request to come with his wife and daughter to Golmberg and make

arrangements for passing the night there. The family were quite ready

to do him this neighbourly service, and Frau and Fräulein von Strummin

received Elsa in the hall and conducted her to her apartment, which

adjoined their own.

The President rubbed his thin white hands together before the fire in

his own comfortable room, while Johann arranged his things: "Very nice!

very nice indeed! This ought quite to reconcile our self-willed young

lady to her mishap, and restore her grumbling old father to a more

sociable frame of mind."

Elsa was thoroughly reconciled. Set free from her moving prison,

to find a brightly-illuminated castle in the depths of the

forest--servants with torches at the entrance--and in the ancient hall,

with its curiously-twisted columns, the unexpected appearance of two

ladies, who, stepping forward from among the weapons and armour with

which the walls and pillars were hung, welcomed her warmly, and led her

into the cosiest of rooms, a flaming fire on the hearth, wax candles

burning brightly before a tall looking-glass in a rich antique frame,

silk hangings of the most wonderful pattern repeated in every possible

variety on the heavy curtains over the deep-set windows, the

_portières_ to the lofty gilt doors, and the hangings of the

old-fashioned bed--all was so strange, so charming, so exactly what an

adventure ought to be. Elsa shook the motherly-looking Frau von

Strummin by the hand and thanked her for her trouble, and kissing the

pretty, mischievous-looking, grey-eyed little girl, asked permission to

call her "Meta," as her mother did, who had just left the room. Meta

responded with the greatest warmth to her embrace, and declared that

nothing in the world could have pleased her more than this evening's

invitation. She and mamma had been so dull at Strummin--it was so

horribly dull in the country--and then the Count's letter came! She

always liked coming to Golmberg, the forest was so beautiful, and the

view from the summit of the tower or from the top of the Golmberg over

the woods and sea was too enchanting. She did not often come here

though; her mother did not much like the trouble of moving, and the

gentlemen thought only of their shooting, their horses, and especially

of themselves. So that she really had been not a little surprised at

the Count being in such a hurry to provide company for the strange

young lady, just as if he had known beforehand how sweet and charming

the stranger would be, and how pleasant it would be to keep her

company, and to chatter all this nonsense to her; and might she call

her "du"? because then they could talk twice as comfortably. The

permission, readily given and sealed with a kiss, enchanted the

excitable little girl.

"You must never go away again," she cried, "or, at any rate, it must be

only to return in the autumn! He will never marry me; I have got

nothing, and he has nothing, in spite of his great estates, and if we

cannot manage to get the railroad and the harbour made here, my papa

says we shall all be bankrupts. And your papa and the President have

got it all in their own hands, my papa said as we came here, and so if

you marry him, of course your papa will agree to the concession--that

is what they call it, is not it? And you are already concerned in it in

a sort of way, for my papa says that the harbour can only be made on

land which belongs to your aunt, and you and your brother will be her

heirs, or are already co-heirs with her. My papa says it is the most

wonderful will, and he should very much like to know how the matter

really stands. Do you not know all about it? Do, do tell me! I will not

tell any one."

"I really do not know," answered Elsa, "I only know that we are very

poor, and that as far as I am concerned you may still marry your

Count."

"I would do it very readily," said the little lady seriously, "but I am

not pretty enough for him with my insignificant little face and my snub

nose. I shall marry some day a rich city man, who will be impressed

with our old nobility--for the Strummins are as old as the island, you

know--some Herr Schulze or Müller or Schmidt. By-the-bye, what is the

name of the officer who came with you?"

"Schmidt--Reinhold Schmidt."

"No; you are joking!"

"No, really; but he is not an officer."

"Not an officer? But how is he a captain then?"

"He is captain of a ship."

"In the navy?"

"Only a merchant-captain."

"No! you don't say so!"

It came out so comically, and Meta clasped her little hands in such

_naïve_ amazement, that Elsa could not help laughing, and laughed all

the more to hide the blush of confusion which rose to her cheek.

"But then he will not have supper with us?" said Meta.

"Why not?" asked Elsa, suddenly becoming quite grave again.

"Only a merchant-captain!" repeated Meta. "What a pity! such a

good-looking man! I had quite counted upon him for myself! But a

merchant-captain!"

Frau von Strummin here came in to accompany the two girls to supper.

Meta flew to her mother to communicate her great discovery.

"It has all been arranged," answered her mother. "The Count asked your

father and the President if they wished Captain Schmidt to be invited

to join the party. Both gentlemen expressed themselves in favour of it,

and so he will appear at table. He really seems a very well-mannered

sort of person," concluded Frau von Strummin.

"I am really curious to see him," said Meta.

Elsa said nothing; but as, coming into the corridor, she met her father

just leaving his room, she whispered to him, "Thank you!"

"One must make the best of a bad job," answered the General in the same

tone.

Elsa was a little surprised; she had not thought that he would have

taken so seriously the question of etiquette which he had decided

according to her view. She did not consider that her father could not

understand her words without some explanation, and did not know that he

had given them quite another meaning.

He had been put out, and had allowed his annoyance to be seen--even

when they were received in the hall. He thought that this had not

escaped Elsa, and that she was pleased now to see that he had meanwhile

made up his mind to submit quietly and calmly to the inevitable, and

therefore met him with a smile. The young sailor had only been recalled

to his mind by the Count's question. He had attached no importance to

the question or to his own answer, that he did not know why the Count

should not invite Captain Schmidt to his table.

Happily for Reinhold himself he had not even a suspicion of the

possibility that his appearance or non-appearance at table could be a

question to be seriously discussed by the other members of the party.

"What is begun may as well be continued," said he to himself, as with

the help of the things he had brought with him in a handbag from the

ship in case of accidents, he arranged his dress as well as he could;

"and now away with melancholy. If I have got aground by my own

stupidity, I shall get off again in time. To go about hanging my head,

or losing it, would not make up for my folly, but only make matters

worse, and they are quite bad enough already. But where are my shoes?"

At the last moment on board he had changed the shoes he was wearing for

a pair of high seaboots. They had been most useful to him since through

rain and puddles, in the wet sands on the shore, and on the way to the

farm; but now! Where were the shoes? Not in the bag, at any rate, into

which he thought he had thrown them, and out of which they would not

appear, although at last in his despair he tumbled all the things out

and strewed them around him. And this garment which he had taken up a

dozen times and let fall again, half the skirt was missing. It was not

his blue frockcoat, it was his black tailcoat, the most precious

article in his wardrobe, which he had only been in the habit of wearing

for a dinner with his owners, or the consul, and on other most solemn

occasions.

Reinhold rushed at the bell--the broken rope came away in his hand. He

tore open the door and looked into the passage--not a servant to be

seen. He called softly at first, then louder, not a servant would hear.

What was to be done? The rough pilot-coat which he had worn under his

waterproof, and which yet had got wet through in some places, had

already been taken away by the servant to be dried. In a quarter of an

hour the man had said the Count begged him to come to supper, twenty

minutes had already passed; he had distinctly heard the President,

whose room was some doors off from his, walk along the passage on his

way downstairs. He must either remain here in the most absurd

captivity, or appear before the company below in the extraordinary

attire of seaboots and a dress-coat! Before the eyes of the President,

whose long, thin figure, from the crown of his small aristocratic head

to the soles of the polished boots which he had worn even on board, was

a model of the most painfully precise neatness; before the stiff,

tightly buttoned-up General; before the Count, who already showed some

disposition to consider him of small account in society; before the

ladies; before her--before her laughter-loving brown eyes! "Well, if I

was fool enough to follow a sign from those eyes, this shall be my

punishment; thus will I do penance in tailcoat and seaboots."

And with one effort he pulled on the garment which he had still held in

his extended left hand, looking at it from time to time with dismay,

and again opened the door, this time to pass with steady step along the

corridor, down the broad stairs, and into the dining-room below, whose

whereabouts he had already ascertained from the servant.

CHAPTER IX.

The rest of the party were already assembled. The two girls had

appeared arm-in-arm, and kept together, although the Count, who had

come forward hastily to meet them, directed his conversation to Elsa

alone. He hastened to inform Fräulein von Werben that the carriage that

was to fetch the doctor from Prora had been gone a quarter of an hour.

Did Fräulein von Werben take any interest in painting, and would she

allow him to direct her attention to some of the more important objects

that he had brought from the gallery of Castle Golm for the decoration

of the dining-room here, which really had appeared to him too bare.

This was a Watteau bought by his great-grandfather himself in Paris;

that was a fruit-piece by the Italian painter Gobbo, surnamed Da

Frutti, a pupil of Annibale Caracci; this large still-life scene was by

the Dutchman Jacob van Es. This flower-piece would be peculiarly

interesting to her, as it was by a lady, Rachel Ruysch, a Dutchwoman,

of course, whose pictures were in great request. Here, on the

_étagère_, was a service of Dresden china, formerly belonging to

Augustus the Strong, from whom his great-grandfather, who for many

years had been Swedish ambassador at the court of Dresden, had received

it in exchange for a team of Swedish horses, the first which had been

seen on the Continent; here was an equally beautiful service of Sèvres,

which he himself the preceding year had admired at the château of a

French nobleman, and had received as a gift from him, out of gratitude

for his successful efforts to preserve the château, which he (the

Count) had converted into a hospital.

"You do not care for old china, however?" said he, observing that the

lady's dark eyes only very briefly inspected his treasures.

"I have seen so little of it," said Elsa; "I do not know how to

appreciate its beauty."

"And then we are all rather hungry," said Meta, "I am at least. At home

we have supper at eight, and now it is eleven."

"Has not Captain Schmidt been told?" asked the Count of the butler.

"Yes, sir, a quarter of an hour ago."

"Then we will not wait any longer. The courtesy of kings does not seem

to be shared by merchant captains. Allow me."

He offered his arm to Elsa; hesitatingly she laid the tips of her

fingers upon it, she would gladly have spared the Captain the

awkwardness of finding the whole party at table. But her father had

already offered his arm to Meta's mother, the gallant President had

given his to Meta herself; the three couples were moving towards the

table which stood between them and the door, when the door opened, and

the wonderful figure of a bearded man in a tailcoat and high seaboots

appeared, in whom Elsa, to her horror, recognised the Captain. But the

next moment she was forced to smile like the others. Meta dropped the

President's arm and fled into a corner of the room, where she tried to

conceal behind her handkerchief the convulsive laughter which had

seized her at the unexpected appearance.

"I must apologise," said Reinhold, "but I have unfortunately only just

discovered that the haste with which we left the ship was not

favourable to a careful choice in my wardrobe."

"And as that haste was for our benefit, we have the less occasion to

lay unnecessary stress upon the small mishap," said the President very

courteously.

"Why did you not apply to my valet?" asked the Count, with mild

reproach.

"I think the costume is very becoming," said Elsa, with a desperate

effort to recover her gravity, and a severe look at Meta, who had

indeed come out of her corner, but without venturing yet to remove her

handkerchief from her face.

"That is much more than I could have possibly hoped," said Reinhold.

They took their seats at the table; Reinhold exactly opposite the Count

and nearly opposite Elsa, while on his left hand sat Meta and on his

right Herr von Strummin, a broad-shouldered man with a broad, red face,

the lower part of which was covered with a big red beard, and whose big

loud voice was the more disagreeable to Reinhold that it was

perpetually breaking in upon the gay, good-humoured chatter of the

young lady upon his left.

The good-natured girl had determined to make Reinhold forget her

previous rudeness, and the keeping of this resolution was so much the

easier to her, that now, when the tablecloth kindly covered those

absurd boots, she found her first idea of him quite justified; the

Captain with his large, bright blue eyes, his sunburnt complexion, and

curly brown beard, was a handsome--a very handsome man. After she had

attempted to convey this important discovery to Elsa by various

significant glances and explanatory gestures, and to her great joy had

perceived from Elsa's smiles and nods, that she agreed with her, she

gave herself up to the pleasure of conversing with this good-looking

stranger all the more eagerly that she was certain her eagerness would

not remain unnoticed by the Count. Did she not know by experience that

he was never pleased, that he even took it as a sort of personal

affront, when ladies to whom he did not himself pay any particular

attention, were especially civil to other men in his presence! And that

this man was only a merchant-captain, whose fitness for society had

been just now called in question, made the matter the more amusing and

piquant to her mischievous imagination. Besides she really was very

much amused. The Captain had so many stories to tell--and he told them

so well and simply!

"You cannot think, Elsa, how interesting it is," she exclaimed across

the table; "I could listen to him all night long!"

"That good little girl is not too particular in her tastes," said the

Count to Elsa.

"I am sorry for that," said Elsa; "she has just chosen me, as you hear,

for a friend."

"That is quite another thing," said the Count.

The conversation between these two would not flow properly, and the

Count frequently found himself left to Frau von Strummin, to whom he

had to talk so as not to be left in silence, whilst Elsa turned to her

other neighbour--the President. And more than once, when that lady's

attention was claimed by the General, he really was obliged to sit

dumb, and silently to observe how well his friends entertained

themselves at his own table without him. To fill up these enforced

pauses he drank one glass of wine after another, and did not thereby

improve his temper, which he then exercised upon the servants for want

of any one else. He certainly would have preferred the merchant-captain

for that purpose. He thought the fellow altogether odious, everything

about him--appearance, manners, look, voice; it was all the more

provoking that he should himself have brought the fellow to his house

in his own carriage! If he had only not asked any one's opinion and

left him in his room!

He told himself that it was ridiculous to vex himself about the matter,

but he did vex himself about it nevertheless, and that all the more

because he could not conquer the feeling. At any cost he must make the

conversation general to free himself from a mood which was becoming

intolerable.

Opposite to him Herr von Strummin was shouting his views upon the

railroad and the harbour into the ear of the General, who appeared to

listen unwillingly. He had made up his mind, for his part, not to touch

upon this ticklish topic at table, but any topic was agreeable to him

now.

"Excuse me, my good friend," said he, raising his voice, "I have been

hearing something of what you have been saying to General von Werben

about our favourite plan. You always say 'we' and 'us,' but you know

that in many essential points our views differ; so I must beg you, if

you do speak about the matter, to do so only in your own name."

"What! what!" cried Herr von Strummin; "what great difference is there?

Is it that I want to have a station at Strummin, just as much as you

want one at Golm?"

"But we cannot all have stations," said the Count, with a pitying shrug

of the shoulders.

"Of course we can't, but I must! or I should not care a brass farthing

for the whole project!" cried the other. "Am I to send my corn two or

three miles, as I did before, and have the train steaming away under my

nose an hour later! I would rather give my vote at the Assembly in that

case for the road which the Government offers us; that would run just

behind my new barn; I could send the waggons straight from the

thrashing-floor out into the high-road. Could not I, President?"

"I really do not know, Herr von Strummin," said the President, "whether

the road runs just behind your barn; it certainly crosses the boundary

of your fields. But my views have long been known to you both;" and he

turned again to Elsa, to continue his interrupted conversation with

her.

The Count was furious at the rebuff which the last words seemed to

imply, the more furious that he knew he had not deserved them. He had

not begun upon the matter, but now it should be further discussed.

"You see," said he, turning to Herr von Strummin, "what disservice you

do us--I must say 'us' now--by this perpetual overzealous putting

forward of private interests. Of course we look to our own advantage in

this; what reasonable man would not? But it must come second--first the

State, then ourselves. At least, so I consider, and so does the General

here, I am sure."

"Certainly I think so," said the General. "But why should I have the

honour of being referred to?"

"Because nobody would gain more if this project were carried out than

your sister, or whoever shall some day possess Warnow, Gristow, and

Damerow."

"I shall never possess a foot of the property," said the General,

knitting his brows. "Besides, as you know, Count, I have as yet had

absolutely nothing to do with the question--not even so far as to

express an opinion--and am, therefore, by no means in a position to

accept the compliment you offer me." And he turned again to Frau von

Strummin.

The Count felt the blood rising to his forehead.

"The opinions of a man of your standing, General," said he, with

well-affected calmness, "even when he gives them no official shape,

could as little remain hidden as the most official report of our

excellent President."

The General's bushy eyebrows frowned still more sternly.

"Well, then, Count Golm," he cried, "I avow myself openly as the most

determined opponent of your project! I consider it as strategically

useless, and I hold it to be scientifically impracticable."

"Two reasons, either of which, if well founded, would be absolutely

crushing," answered the Count, smiling ironically. "As to the first, I

bow, of course, to such an authority, although we need not always have

a war with a non-naval power like France, but might possibly have one

with a naval power like Russia for instance, and should then find a

harbour facing the enemy very necessary. But as to the practicability,

General; there, with all submission, I think I may put in a word in my

amphibious capacity of a country gentleman living by the sea. Our sand,

however heavy it makes the roads, to the great inconvenience of

ourselves and the President, is a capital material for a railway

embankment, and will prove good ground for the foundation of our

harbour walls."

"Until you come to the places where we should have to build on piles,"

said the President, who, on the General's account, felt himself bound

to speak.

"Such places may occur, I allow," cried the Count, who, in spite of the

other men's exasperating opposition, at any rate had now the

satisfaction of seeing all other conversation at the table silenced,

and he alone for the moment speaking. "But what do you prove by that,

excepting that the making of the harbour may take some months or years

longer, and cost some few hundred thousands, or, for aught I know,

millions more? And what would that signify in a work which, once

completed, would be an invincible bulwark against every enemy that

threatens us from the East?"

"Excepting one!" said Reinhold.

The Count had never supposed that this fellow would interfere in the

conversation. An angry flush rose to his brow; he cast a dark look at

the new opponent, and asked, in a short, contemptuous tone:

"And what might that be?"

"The tide coming in with a storm!" answered Reinhold.

"We are too much used in this country to storms and high tides to fear

the one or the other," said the Count, with forced calmness.

"I know that," answered Reinhold; "but I am not speaking of ordinary

atmospheric changes and disturbances, but of a catastrophe which I am

convinced has been preparing for years, and only awaits the final

impulse, which will not long be wanting, to burst upon us with a

violence of which the wildest fancy can form no conception."

"Are we still in the domain of reality, or already in the realm of

fancy?" asked the Count.

"We are in the region of possibilities," answered Reinhold; "that

possibility which, as a glance at the map will show us, has already at

least once proved a reality, and, according to human calculations, will

before very long become such again."

"You are making us extremely curious," said the Count.

He said it ironically; but he had truly expressed the feelings of the

party. All eyes were turned upon Reinhold.

"I am afraid I may weary the ladies with these matters," said Reinhold.

"Not in the least," said Elsa.

"I am wild about everything connected with the sea," cried Meta, with a

mischievous glance at Elsa.

"You would really oblige me," said the President.

"Pray continue," said the General.

"I will be as brief as possible," said Reinhold, directing his looks

towards the President and the General, as if he only spoke for them.

"The Baltic appears to have been formed by some most extraordinary

convulsions, which have given it a character of its own. It has no ebb

and flow, its saltness is far less than that of the North Sea, and

decreases gradually towards the east; so that the fauna and flora----"

"What are they?" asked Meta.

"The animal and vegetable kingdoms," said he, courteously turning to

her--"of the Gulf of Finland have almost a fresh-water character. But

none the less do we find, besides the visible connection, a constant

mutual influence between the ocean and the inner sea--a perpetual

influx and reflux, resulting from a most complicated connection and

combination of the most varied causes, one of which I must more

particularly mention, as it is precisely that to which I am now

referring. This is the regularity of the winds blowing from west to

east, and from east to west, which, moving on the surface of the water,

accompany and cause the ebb and flow of the under-currents. Seamen

reckoned upon these winds almost with the certainty with which they

might count upon a constantly recurring natural phenomenon; and rightly

so, for within the memory of man no essential change had occurred,

until a few years ago the east wind, which used always to appear in the

latter half of August and continue till the middle of October, suddenly

failed, and has not since returned."

"Well? and the consequence?" asked the President, who was listening

with the most rapt attention.

"The consequence is, sir, that enormous masses of water have

accumulated in the Baltic in the course of these years, which have been

the less remarked that they have of course attempted to spread

themselves equally on all sides, but the greatest pressure has always

been in ever-increasing proportion towards the east, so that in the

spring of last year at Nystad, in South Finland, four feet above the

usual water-mark were registered; at Wasa, two degrees farther north,

six feet; and at Tomeo, in the northernmost arm of the Gulf of Bothnia,

there were even eight. The gradual nature of the rise and the almost

universally high shores have to a great degree protected the

inhabitants of those parts from any serious calamity. But for us, whose

shores are almost without exception flat, a sudden reversal of this

stream, which for years has tended uninterruptedly to the east, would

be fearful. This reversal must however happen in case of a gale from

the north-east or east, especially if it lasted for many days. The

water driven westward by the power of the wind will vainly seek an

outlet to the ocean through the narrow straits of the Belt and the

Sound in the Cattegat and Skagerrack, and like some furious wild beast

in the toils, will throw itself upon our shores, pouring for miles

inland, tearing down everything that opposes its blind fury, covering

fields and meadows with sand and rubbish, and causing a devastation of

which our grandchildren and great-grandchildren shall speak with awe."

While Reinhold thus spoke, it had not escaped the Count that the

President and the General had repeatedly exchanged looks of

understanding and approval, that Herr von Strummin's broad face had

grown long with amazement and terror, and--what above all angered

him--that the ladies listened as attentively as if a ball were in

question. At any rate he would not let him have the last word.

"But this wonderful storm is at best--I mean in the most favourable

case for you--a mere hypothesis!" cried he.

"Only for those who are not convinced of its inevitableness as I am,"

answered Reinhold.

"Well, well," said the Count, "I will suppose that you do not stand

alone in your opinion, even more, that you are right in it, that the

storm will come to-day or to-morrow, or sometime; still it cannot

happen every day--perhaps can only happen once in a century. Well,

gentlemen, I have the deepest respect for the farsighted previsions of

our authorities; but such distant perspectives must seem inappreciable

to the most farseeing, and ought not to decide them to leave undone

what is required at once."

As the Count's last words were evidently addressed to the General and

the President, and not to him, Reinhold did not think himself called

upon to answer. But neither did they answer; the rest kept silence too,

and an awkward pause ensued. At last the President coughed behind his

slender white hand, and said:

"It is strange that while Captain Schmidt, here, in that decided tone

which only conviction gives, is prophesying to us a storm, which our

kind host, to whom certainly it would come nearest, would prefer to

remove into the land of fancy--it is strange that I have been reminded

at every word of another storm----"

"Another!" cried Meta.

"Another storm, my dear young lady, and of quite another sort; I need

not tell these gentlemen of what sort. In this case also the usual

course of affairs has been in the most unexpected manner interrupted,

and there has been an accumulation of waters, flowing in immense

streams of gold, ladies, from west to east. In this case also the wise

men prophesy that such an unnatural state of affairs cannot be of long

continuance; that it has already lasted its time, that an ebb must soon

come, a reaction, a storm, which--to preserve the image which so

strikingly applies to the matter--will, like the other, come upon us,

destroying, overwhelming everything, and with its troubled and barren

waters cover the ground, on which men believed their riches and power to

be for ever established."

In his eagerness to give another turn to the conversation, and in the

pleasure of his happy comparison, the President had not considered that

the topic was still the same, and that it must be more unpleasant to

the Count in this new phase than in the former one. He became aware of

his thoughtlessness when the Count, in a tone that trembled with

agitation, exclaimed:

"I hope, President, that you do not confound our plan, dictated, I may

say, by the purest patriotism, with the enterprises so much in favour

nowaday, which mostly have no other source than the vulgarest greed of

gain."

"My dear Count! how can you suppose that I could even dream of such a

thing!" exclaimed the President.

The Count bowed. "Thank you," said he, "for I confess that nothing

would hurt my feelings more. I have always considered it as a political

necessity, and a proof of his eminently statesmanlike capacity, that

Prince Bismarck has made use of certain means for carrying out his

great ideas, which he certainly would have preferred not using, if only

to avoid too close contact with persons, all intercourse with whom must

have been formerly thoroughly distasteful to him. I consider it also as

a necessary consequence of this misfortune, that in order to reward

these persons he has inaugurated, has been obliged to inaugurate, the

new era of speculators, and of immoderate greed of gain, with those

fatal milliards. Meanwhile----"

"Excuse my interrupting you," said the General; "I consider these

compacts of the Prince's with those persons, parties, strata of

population, classes of society--call them what you will--as you do,

Count Golm, most certainly a misfortune, but by no means a necessary

one. On the contrary; the _rocher de bronze_, upon which the Prussian

kingdom is established, formed as it was of a loyal aristocracy, a

zealous body of officials, a faithful army--all these were strong

enough to support the German Empire, if it must needs be German rather

than Prussian, or indeed an empire at all."

"Yes, General, it had need to be, and to be German," said Reinhold.

The General shot a dark look at the young man from under his bushy

eyebrows; but he had listened before with satisfaction to his

explanations, and felt that he must let him speak now, when he

disagreed with him.

"Why do you think so?" asked he.

"I judge by my own feelings," answered Reinhold; "but I am certain that

they are the feelings of every one who has lived, as I have, often and

long together far from home in a foreign land; who has experienced, as

I have, what it means to belong to a people that is no nation, and

because it is not one is little regarded, or even despised by the other

nations with which we deal; what it means, in the difficult position in

which a sailor so easily may find himself, to have only himself to look

to, or, what is still worse, to have to request the assistance and

protection needed from others, who give it grudgingly and would prefer

not helping at all. I have experienced and gone through all this, as

thousands of others have done, and have had to swallow as best I could

all this injustice and unfairness. And I went abroad again last year

after the war, returning only a few weeks ago, and found that I had no

longer to stand on one side and sue for protection. I might step

forward as boldly as others, and, gentlemen, I thanked God then with my

whole heart that we had an Emperor--a German Emperor; for nothing less

than a German Emperor was needed to demonstrate ocularly to English and

Americans, Chinese and Japanese, that they no longer had to deal with

Hamburgers and Bremeners, with Oldenburgers and Mechlenburgers, or even

with Prussians, but with Germans, who sailed under one and the same

flag--a flag which had the will and the power to shelter and protect

the least and poorest of those who have the honour and happiness of

being Germans."

The General, to whom the last words were addressed, looked straight

before him, evidently some chord in his heart was sympathetically

touched; the President had put on his glasses, which he had not used

the whole evening; the ladies hardly turned their eyes from the man who

was speaking so honestly and straightforwardly; the Count saw and noted

all, and his dislike to the man increased with every word that came

from his mouth; he must silence this odious chatterer.

"I confess," said he, "if there was nothing further involved than that

the gentlemen who speculate in sugar and cotton, or who carry away our

labourers, should put their gains more comfortably into their pockets,

I should regret the noble blood that has been shed upon so many

battle-fields."

"I did not say that there was nothing else involved," answered

Reinhold.

"No doubt," continued the Count, appearing not to notice this

interruption, "it is a good thing to be out of range of the firing; and

one can sun oneself comfortably in the honour and glory which others

have won for us."

The General frowned, the President dropt his glasses, the young ladies

exchanged terrified glances.

"I do not doubt," said Reinhold, "that Count Golm earned his full share

of German fame; for my part I am well content with the honour of having

been not out of range of the firing."

"Where were you on the day of Gravelotte, Captain Schmidt?"

"At Gravelotte, Count Golm."

The General raised his eyebrows, the President replaced his glasses,

the young ladies again exchanged glances--Elsa this time in joyful

surprise, while Meta very nearly laughed outright at the Count's

confused look.

"That is to say," said Reinhold, the blood rising in his cheek at the

attention which his rash speech had roused, and turning to the General,

"to speak precisely, on the morning of that day I was on the march from

Rezonville to St. Marie. Then, when it appeared, as you know, General,

that the enemy was not in retreat upon the northern road, and the

second army corps had completed the great flank movement to the right

upon Verneville and Amanvilliers, we--the eighteenth division--came

under fire near Verneville, about half an hour before midday. As you

will remember, General, our division had the honour of commencing the

battle." Reinhold passed his hand across his forehead. The frightful

visions of that fateful day rose again to his mind. He had forgotten

the contempt which had lain in the Count's question, and which he had

wished to repel by the account of his share in the battle.

"You went through the whole campaign?" asked the General; and there was

a peculiar, almost a tender, tone in his deep voice.

"Yes, sir, if you reckon the fortnight, from the 18th July to the 1st

August, while I was being drilled at Coblenz. As a native of Hamburg

and a sailor, I had not had the good fortune of learning my drill

properly when young."

"How came you to be in the campaign?"

"It is a short story, which I will briefly relate. On the 15th July I

was with my ship in the Southampton Roads, bound for Bombay--captain of

my own ship for the first time. On the evening of the 16th we were to

weigh anchor. But on the morning of the 16th came the news of the

declaration of war; by midday an efficient substitute had been found,

and I had said good-bye to my owners and my ship; in the evening I was

in London; on the night of the 16th-17th on my way, by Ostend, Brussels

and the Rhine, to Coblenz, where I offered myself as a volunteer, was

accepted, went through a small amount of drill, sent forward, and, why,

I know not, attached to the ---- regiment, eighteenth division, ninth

corps, with which I went through the campaign."

"Were you promoted?"

"I was made a non-commissioned officer at Gravelotte, acting

sub-lieutenant on the 1st September, the day after Bazaine's great

sortie, and on the 4th December----"

"That was the day of Orleans?"

"Yes, sir; on the day of Orleans I got my commission."

"I congratulate you on your rapid promotion," said the General,

smiling, but his face darkened again immediately. "Why did you not

introduce yourself to me as a fellow-soldier?"

"The merchant-captain must apologise for the lieutenant of the reserve,

General."

"Were you decorated?"

"Yes, sir; I received the Cross with my commission."

"And you do not wear it?"

"I have dressed so hastily to-day," answered Reinhold.

Meta broke into a laugh, in which Reinhold joined heartily; the others

smiled too; a civil, approving, flattering smile, as it seemed to the

Count.

"I fear that we are putting the patience of the ladies to too long a

trial," he said, with a significant movement.

CHAPTER X.

The ladies retired as soon as the table was cleared. Frau von Strummin,

who was accustomed to go to bed at nine o'clock, was really tired, and

Meta professed to be so too. But her sparkling eyes belied her; and the

two girls were no sooner alone, for their rooms communicated, and Meta

insisted on acting as Elsa's lady's-maid, than she fell upon the

latter's neck and declared that she loved to distraction the Captain,

who, after all, was really a lieutenant.

"He is the very man I have always dreamt of," cried she; "young, but

not too young, so that one can feel respect for him; wise, but not too

wise, so that one is not afraid of him; brave, but no boaster; and then

such beautiful white teeth when he laughs, and he laughs so readily and

pleasantly. I should like him to be always laughing."

"How could you laugh as you did?"

"What was I to do? I had been serious for so long, I must laugh at

something. And his dress! But do you know, as we said good-night to him

just now, I was not at all inclined to laugh, I was quite agitated, and

felt more like crying. I felt as if I should never see him again, and

ought to apologise to him for all my rudeness. Now you are getting

serious too; confess that you, too, are in love with him."

"I agree to everything that you have said of him, but as to being in

love, that is going rather far."

"Not for me, not for my heart; only feel how it beats! Five minutes is

enough to set my heart at work. I do not know how it is, but to see and

to love are all one with me. One often makes mistakes, however; very

often."

Meta seated herself on a stool, began to unplait her red gold hair, and

said in a tragical tone:

"The first time--it is an immense while ago, I was about twelve years

old--I fell in love with my brother's tutor. I have got a brother, you

must know. He lives now in Lower Pomerania, where for the least

possible amount of money the largest possible amount of sand can be

bought. Of course the tutor has been married a long time now, and is a

clergyman, and of course lives also in Lower Pomerania, close to my

brother, and I saw him there this winter at a christening. Oh, how

ashamed of myself I was!"

And Meta covered her face with her hands, and shook out her hair in

front of her, till it fell like a thick veil to the ground.

"How ashamed of myself I was! It was dreadful! And if it had been only

once! But the same story has been repeated at least twenty times--the

last time in February, in Berlin, at the opera, in the first row of

boxes. Papa said he was a pickpocket; but papa sees pickpockets

everywhere when he is in Berlin, and spoils every enjoyment and

destroys every illusion, and yet it is so pleasant to have illusions,

when one is seventeen and inclined that way! Are you asleep already?"

"No, but I am very tired; give me a kiss, and then go to bed too."

Meta threw back her hair, sprang up, embraced Elsa with the warmest

kisses, and whispered in her ear: "Do you know, I am as certain as I

stand here that I shall be an old maid--a very old maid with a bent

back, and great spectacles over my sunken eyes, and knitting an

everlasting stocking with trembling hands! It is hard, you know, when

one has a warm heart, and would take a husband on the spot, if he were

only good and nice, and would be faithful to him till death, and beyond

death, too, if he died first and really made a point of it. For you see

our 'von' and our pretensions to nobility are all nonsense. They cannot

make any one happy, particularly when there is nothing to support them,

as is the case with us, and when one has a snub nose and red hair, and

eyes of which one cannot tell oneself whether they are grey or green,

or blue or brown. You have such wonderful soft chestnut-brown hair, and

such a deliciously straight nose, and such beautiful, heavenly, hazel

eyes, which are positively shining now in the half-light; and when you

are the Countess you must be kind to poor little ugly Meta, and let me

come here very often, that I may talk and laugh as much as I please--it

does one so much good! oh, so much!"

And the strange little creature hid her burning face on her new

friend's shoulder, and sobbed bitterly. Then she drew herself up

suddenly, put back the hair from her face, and said: "I think I am

tired too; I really do not know what I am saying. Good-night, you dear,

beautiful thing!"

She raised herself, but dropped down again on the edge of the bed, bent

over Elsa and asked in a whisper: "Have you never been in love? Do tell

me, as you love me!"

"As I love you, no!"

"I thought so. Sleep well, and pleasant dreams to you!"

She kissed Elsa again, gathered her dressing-gown round her and glided

away.

CHAPTER XI.

The gentlemen, too, had remained but a short time together. Herr

von Strummin's proposal of a rubber of whist before going to bed

fell through, as it appeared that with the exception of himself and

the Count no one played. Even the cigars offered by the Count found

no favour excepting with Herr von Strummin, as the General and the

President did not smoke, and Reinhold professed to be the less willing

to encroach further on the Count's kindness, because he must take his

departure early the next morning, and would therefore ask permission

to take leave of the Count now with many thanks for the hospitality he

had experienced. He was anxious to know how the _Neptune_ had stood the

gale, and he was certain of finding the ship either still at anchor

at Wissow or already at Ahlbeck, where she must return to take up the

passengers landed there yesterday.

The Count hoped that Captain Schmidt, if he really was determined to

go, would at any rate make use of one of his carriages; but Reinhold

declined the civil offer with equal civility; he was a good walker, and

if he took a boat from Ahlbeck would reach Wissow sooner than the

carriage could convey him there. He earnestly begged the Count not to

disturb himself, and asked the General and Herr von Strummin kindly to

make his excuses to the ladies. Herr von Strummin exclaimed that the

ladies would be inconsolable, and would have further dilated on the

subject in his own fashion when a look from the Count showed him that

he was on the wrong tack. The General said shortly, as he gave Reinhold

his hand, "Au revoir in Berlin, Lieutenant Schmidt!" The President, who

had until now kept silence, came up to him at the last moment and

whispered, "I wish to speak to you again."

Reinhold had got to his room, and was thrusting his unfortunate

dress-coat back into his travelling-bag and considering what the

President's mysterious words might mean, when there came a knock at his

door. It was Johann, who came to inquire if Captain Schmidt would

receive the President for a few minutes? Reinhold sent the servant back

to say that he would come at once to receive the President's commands,

and followed him immediately.

The President received his midnight guest with a cordiality which

struck Reinhold the more that till now he had thought that the reserved

and rather haughty-looking old gentleman had hardly noticed him. The

President must have read Reinhold's thoughts in his face, for as he

invited him to sit by him on the sofa, he said, "I must begin with a

confession. It is my habit, nourished and perhaps justified by a long

official career, to observe a certain, often I dare say too great,

reserve towards all who for the first time come under my notice. But

whenever I have good reason for interesting myself in any one my

interest is full and entire. You, Captain--or must I, like my worthy

friend, call you Lieutenant Schmidt?"

"Supposing you omit any title, President?"

"Very well--you, Herr Schmidt, interest me. You are frank and bold by

nature, and have fortunately remained so although you have thought and

studied and learned more than most members of your profession. However,

I am not keeping you from your night's rest only to make you this very

sincere compliment. I have two requests to make of you, of which the

first is easy to grant, provided that your expedition after the

_Neptune_ is not merely an excuse."

"An excuse, President?"

"You took my side on the harbour question too warmly not to come into

collision with the Count, whose sensitiveness on this point is

unfortunately only too easy to understand. You would perhaps avoid, for

the sake of the rest of the party, a possible continuation of the

discussion which puts our host into such an inhospitable temper,

and----" The President's keen eyes shot a rapid glance at Reinhold's

face, as he coughed behind his white hand.

"That is exactly the state of the case, President," said Reinhold.

"I thought so. You will then in a few hours be on board the _Neptune_.

I left lying about in my berth a document which I was studying

on the way--a memorial to the Minister upon that very harbour

question, and upon the condition of our water-highways, pilotage,

coast-beacons--reforms in all these directions--and other matters. I

should not like the papers to fall into strange hands even for a time;

and you would greatly oblige me----"

"Thank you heartily for the confidence you put in me, President," said

Reinhold; "the papers shall reach you in safety----"

"But not before you have looked into them," interrupted the President

quickly. "And this is the prelude to my second request. You look

surprised. The matter is simply this. The worthy old Superintendent of

pilots at Wissow must, and will, soon retire. The post will be vacant

next spring, perhaps even in the course of the winter. In the present

state of affairs, with the many questions which are sure to crop up and

require attention, the position is one of importance, far exceeding

that usually attached to similar posts. I can only propose to the

Minister for this post a thoroughly trustworthy and intelligent man,

and one of whom I know that he will heartily support my plans from

conviction of their propriety. Now if you can find such conviction for

yourself in those papers, and would willingly continue the work with

me, I would, with your permission, send in your name to the Minister."

"Really, President," said Reinhold, "you offer me such great and

flattering confidence, a man of whom you really know nothing----"

"That is my affair," interrupted the President, smiling. "The question

is now, are you inclined--supposing, of course, that the other

circumstances of the position, which are not brilliant, but still

sufficient, should suit you--to agree to my proposal? I do not expect,

I do not even wish, for any answer at present; I only ask for it when

you return the papers to me at Sundin, and we can discuss the matter

further over a cutlet and a glass of Burgundy."

The President rose. Reinhold felt that he must accede to the wishes of

this strange man, and not further pursue the question here or now, and

took his leave, expressing his thanks in a few words which came from

his heart, and were received by the President with a kindly smile. He

had already reached the door when the President called after him:

"If you like to hand over to my servant anything which might be in your

way for your expedition, it shall be carefully looked after among my

luggage, and kept as a pledge for my papers."

A bow from the aristocratic grey head, a wave of the slender white

hand, and Reinhold was dismissed.

"Very graciously, but very much as if I were already in the Government

service and his," said Reinhold, laughing, as he walked up and down his

room, considering the proposal which had come to him so unexpectedly,

and yet like the natural sequel to all that had happened in the day.

The grounding of the steamer in an uncertain channel; the want of

proper signals from the shore; the absence of all precautions in case

of need, and principally of a lifeboat; the difficulty, even

impossibility, of putting a boat to sea in stormy weather, from that

low, unprotected shore--all this had passed through his head. There was

so much to be done here! And then that insane project of a harbour,

that had been, as it seemed, within a hair's breadth of being carried

out, perhaps might still be carried out, if experienced men did not

raise their voices loudly against it, and expose this delusion of the

Count's. The President was right. The position of a Superintendent of

pilots in these waters was far more important than might appear at

first sight, and was well worthy that a man should give his best

strength to it, and sacrifice to it all that he had still hoped and

promised to himself from life.

For a sacrifice it was. His almost completed negotiations with the

great Hamburg firm, who had offered him their finest ship for some

years to come, for the South American and China trade; his plan of a

North Pole expedition, which he had worked out from a completely new

point of view, and for which he had already planned and spoken so much,

and with such success--such far-reaching views, such important designs

to be given up, that he might confine himself to this narrow horizon!

to help to prevent this intricate channel from being quite silted up!

to organise some useful improvements on this coast; to----

"Be honest!" said Reinhold, suddenly standing still. "Confess to

yourself that it is to avoid putting a few thousand miles between her

and you, to remain in her neighbourhood, to have the possibility of

seeing her again, to make a fool of yourself as you have done to-day.

For it is folly! What good can come of it? This daughter of a general

officer, of noble family, would raise her brown eyes with a good deal

of astonishment if the very unaristocratic Superintendent of pilots

were to venture seriously to lift his eyes to her; and to the General

himself I am, and remain, the Lieutenant of the Reserve--something that

is neither fish nor flesh, and which one only puts up with in case of

necessity, and then very much against the grain. I think I might have

known that. And supposing that the most improbable thing in the world

did happen, that I could gain the love of this beautiful girl and the

friendship of her father, what sort of society should I find myself in

in future! How would it please me to be perpetually meeting Count Golm,

Herr von Strummin, and Co.? to be always reading in their looks and

manners: 'What does the fellow want amongst us? Can he not remain

with his equals? or does he really think that he, or his democratic

uncle----'" Reinhold could not help laughing. "Uncle Ernst! He had not

seen him for ten years; but if he found him again in Berlin--grumbling,

bitter, dissatisfied, and apparently impossible to satisfy, as he was

formerly--the stubborn old radical and the stern old soldier would make

a fine piece of work together! And good Aunt Rikchen, with her anxious

little face under her great white cap, and her little mincing steps,

how would she get on with the beautiful aristocratic young lady? And

his little cousin Ferdinanda--she must by this time be his grown-up

cousin, and, if she had kept the promise of her childhood, a very

pretty girl. But she might, perhaps, fit in better, although---- Have I

really gone out of my mind? What is the good of all this? What is it

all, but the wildest imagination, of which I ought to be ashamed, of

which I shall be ashamed tomorrow! To-morrow? Why it is morning

already!"

He went to the window. It was still dark; the great trees, which seemed

to surround the whole house, rustled monotonously, like the rippling of

the waves upon a level shore. The sky was completely overcast with

black clouds. Reinhold gazed out into the darkness.

"It would be difficult to steer a straight course here," he said to

himself, "and I have given away my compass. I cannot even find out how

I stand. And yet, if but one star appeared, the star of her love, I

should know what to do, and would find my way past all rocks and all

obstacles!"

He started with a thrill of joy. As if called by enchantment from the

black clouds, directly before him there shone a bright steady light--a

star--Venus herself! By the hour and the inclination towards the

horizon it could be none other than Venus!

It was a chance--of course a chance; but he had never been able to

laugh at sailors' superstitions even if he did not share them, and he

would not laugh now. No; he would take it as a sign from heaven, as a

confirmation of the principle to which he had held as long as he could

remember--not with childish self-will to strive after the unattainable,

but on a really worthy purpose, attainable by courage and strength and

perseverance, to set all his courage, all his strength, and all his

perseverance.

Venus had disappeared in dark clouds, but other stars peeped out; there

was a louder rustle in the trees, whose heavy masses began to stand out

from the sky--the morning was breaking.

Reinhold closed the window. He wanted an hour's repose, and felt that

now he could take it. A gentle peace like the lull after a storm had

come upon his spirit--he felt that he was himself again, that he had no

need to blame or quarrel with himself further, and with fate he had

never quarrelled.

He put out the candles, which had nearly burnt down to their sockets;

sank into the great arm-chair which stood before the fire, stared for a

few moments at the embers which here and there shone amongst the ashes

with a feeble and ever feebler glow, and then fell into a deep and

dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER XII.

It was long, very long, before Elsa could sleep. As soon as she closed

her eyes the bed changed to a ship that rocked up and down in the

waves, and when she raised her weary eyelids more and more wonderful

shadows flitted between the heavy folds of the curtains in the dim

light of her night-lamp. The events of the day passed through her mind

in the most varied form and in the utmost confusion. She was sitting by

the sick-bed of the children in the close farmhouse room; but near her

sat, not the farmer's wife, but Meta, who had let her loosened hair

fall over her face, and told her with sobs how ashamed she was of being

in love with a merchant captain whom she had never seen before. And

then, again, it was the farmer's wife who sat upon the side of her bed

and begged her to forget what she had said about the Count, who had

sent for the doctor the moment she asked him, and who was certainly a

kind gentleman in his own way, although he did not care about children

and poor people, and looked sometimes so proud, and would be very angry

if he knew that she always kept the little compass concealed in her

pocket, which she must return to its owner to-morrow, for she had

promised it by her friendship.

That must have been the last flickering thread of the half-waking

thoughts with which her dreams now played the most grotesquely painful

tricks. Through narrow passages on board ship, and magnificent saloons,

through dark forests, over foaming waves, now in a rocking boat, now in

a shaking carriage, then again running hastily across the sandhills,

where the ground at every step gave way under her eager feet, as she

vainly endeavoured to hold by the waving grasses--always and everywhere

she hastened after the Captain, to whom she must speak, she knew not

why, to whom she must give something, she knew not what; she only knew

that her happiness depended upon her speaking to him, upon her giving

this thing to him. But she could not find him, and when she was certain

that he was only hidden behind a curtain, behind which she could even

see his figure, and called to him to come forward,--she knew very well

that he was there, and at last wanted, laughingly, to lift the

curtain,--some one always held her back, sometimes her father shaking

his head with displeasure, then the President, who put up his eye-glass

and assured her that he could see through the thickest curtains, but

there was nobody there. It was not a red silk curtain either, but thick

dark smoke, which only shone so red from the blood which had been shed

behind it; but that blood was the life-blood of the Captain, who had

just fallen in the battle of Gravelotte, half an hour before mid-day.

She could do nothing to help him now.

"But I must see him again. He gave me his heart; I have it in my

pocket, and it is always quivering and wanting to get back to him. I

cannot give it back to him, but I will give him my own instead, and

then his will be at rest again."

"If that is the case," said the President, "just put your heart here

upon his tombstone."

And he drew back the red smoke as if it had been a curtain. There she

saw a great iron cross, flooded with bright morning light; and at the

foot of the cross, on the green turf, sat he whom she sought, in

dress-coat and fisherman's boots, and by his side Meta von Strummin;

and they had a casket in their hands, in which lay a heart. She could

not see it, but she knew that it was a heart.

"You must not give that away," said she.

"Why not?" cried Meta. "I can give away my heart as often as I please,

you know; I have given it away twenty times already."

"But that is my heart--my heart!"

Meta would not give her the heart, and then she grew so anxious and

fearful. She caught Meta's hands, and struggled with her.

"Do wake up!" said Meta. "You are sighing and groaning so that you

quite woke me."

"I thought the cross was red!" said Elsa.

"You are dreaming still. That is the shadow of the window frame; I have

drawn back the curtains to let in the light. The sun must rise soon,

the sky is quite red now. It looks beautiful! Do just sit up, and that

will rouse you altogether."

Elsa sat up. The whole room was filled with a red glow.

"What have you been dreaming about?" asked Meta.

"I do not know," said Elsa.

"How pretty you are," said Meta; "much prettier even than you were

yesterday evening. Did your dream give you such rosy cheeks, or is it

the morning glow!"

"The morning glow," said Elsa. "How I should like to see the sun rise!

I have never yet seen it."

"No!" cried Meta, clasping her hands together; "never yet seen the sun

rise! Is it possible! Oh, you town people! Come! it never rises more

beautifully than here at Golmberg, but we must make haste. I am

half-dressed already. I will come and help you directly."

Meta came back in a few minutes and began to help Elsa to dress.

"I was born to be a lady's-maid," said she. "Will you have me? I will

dress and undress you all day long, and be as faithful as a lapdog to

you; for one's heart must cling to something, you know, and my heart

has nothing now to cling to, you know. There now, just a veil over your

beautiful hair, and this lovely shawl round you--you will want them; it

will be quite cold enough."

But a soft warm air met them as they stepped from the glass door on to

the little balcony, from which a small iron staircase led down into a

strip of garden which had been laid out between the two wings of the

building.

"The gate is never locked," said Meta; "we can get straight into the

forest, you know, and be there in five minutes; but we must make haste

if we want to see anything."

She dragged her faintly-resisting companion quickly on. "Don't be

afraid," she cried, "I know every step of the way; we shall not meet a

soul, at the utmost only a roedeer--look!"

She held Elsa back by the arm and pointed to the broad path.

There stood a deer not a hundred yards from them. It seemed to see

nothing alarming in their two figures, but bent its delicate head,

which it had raised for a moment, and quietly went on grazing.

"That is what I delight in," said Meta, as they quickly pursued the

narrow path.

"So do I," said Elsa.

"Then you must marry the Count."

"You must not say that again if we are to remain friends," said Elsa,

standing still.

"Your eyes look as solemn as the deer's," said Meta. "Now you are

laughing again, and that is much more becoming. But now shut your

beautiful eyes tight, give me your hand, and don't be afraid to walk

on; but do not open your eyes. Mind you do not open them till I say,

Now!"

Elsa did as she was bid. A low rustling sound which she had perceived

for some time past became louder and louder, the wind blew more and

more strongly against her, a rosy light shone through her closed

eyelids.

"Now!"

Elsa uttered a cry.

"Do not be afraid; the railing is strong, and I am holding you," said

Meta.

Elsa was startled, but only with delight at the wonderful picture which

was spread before her. Below her, far below, a sea of rustling, rosy,

glowing boughs, and beyond the forest billows, the real sea, as far as

the eye could reach, tossing in waves whose foaming crests shone here

and there in a crimson glow, answering to that which overspread the

heavens. And a crimson glow was on the shore, which swept in graceful

curves out to the right hand as far as the rugged promontory, against

whose steep cliffs, plainly seen notwithstanding the great distance,

the surf leapt high up in foam and froth.

"Well, what do you say?" cried Meta.

Elsa could not answer; her soul was too full of the wonderful sight,

and yet, as she repeated to herself, "How beautiful! oh, how

beautiful!" her heart, which had been so light, grew sadder and more

sad. With the impetuous music of the wind through the rustling branches

at her feet, in the sullen thunder of the waves as, unseen by her eyes

they broke upon the level shore, there mingled a melancholy tone--the

reverberation of the dream from which she had awoke in such terror. Was

not that crimson cloud, paling momentarily before the trembling light

in the horizon, like the crimson curtain which had been drawn aside to

show her that wonderful picture at the foot of the cross as it shone in

the morning light; that picture of the two who were playing with her

heart and laughing, while she was breaking it in grief and pain?

Lighter and lighter grew the horizon, their eyes could hardly bear the

glory. At last the sun leapt up--a mass of light, a sheaf of rays, a

ball of flame, before which the glow on sky and sea and earth as if in

terror fled and vanished. Elsa was forced to close her eyes; she turned

away, and when she opened them again--good heavens! what did she see?

They were standing a few paces from her, holding each other's hands and

smiling, with the golden light of the sun shining full upon them. Was

she dreaming again? or was it a delusion of her bewildered senses!

"This is too delightful!" cried Meta.

"Good-morning, Fräulein von Werben!" said Reinhold, as he withdrew his

hand from Meta, who in her surprise had kept it a most indecorously

long time, and came up to Elsa. "I must apologise again for disturbing

you here. But how could I suppose that I should meet you in the forest

at sunrise?"

"And may I ask what you are doing in the forest at sunrise. Captain

Schmidt?" asked Meta.

Reinhold pointed with his hand over the sea, to a ship which had just

rounded the promontory, and now seemed to be steering straight across

the bay, leaving behind it a long straight streak of dark smoke:

"That is our steamer," said Reinhold, turning to Elsa. "She has been

lying all night at anchor, behind Wissow Head, and is coming now, I

suppose, to pick up our fellow-passengers. There, in the centre of the

bay, you can just see the roofs over the edge of the dunes, lies

Ahlbeck, the village where they were landed. The farmhouse, where we

were yesterday evening, lies much nearer, and more to our right; but

the spurs of the hill on which we now stand come between us and conceal

it. I must make haste now to be able at least to signal to her from the

shore. They will be surprised to see me come on board alone."

"Why should not we also go on board, if it would be so easy?" asked

Elsa.

"You will get to Neuenfähr almost as quickly, and much more

comfortably, by road," answered Reinhold. "That was settled yesterday

by the gentlemen, after the ladies had retired, and I could only agree

with them."

"And you?" asked Meta.

"I belong to the ship. There, she has just turned, and is coming in

shore now. Besides, I have a commission from the President to execute.

But it is high time for me to be off."

"Good-bye, Captain Schmidt," said Meta; "we shall meet again, I hope."

"You are very kind," said Reinhold. "Good-bye."

He had turned to Elsa. Something like a shadow dimmed his blue eyes,

and they did not look at her, but beyond her, perhaps towards the ship.

"Good-bye, Captain Schmidt."

At the sound of her voice the shadow vanished; the blue eyes that now

turned towards her shone brightly, brightly and joyfully as the sun,

only that she had no need or desire now to close her eyes, but answered

the deep earnest look frankly and earnestly, as her heart prompted her.

And then he disappeared.

The two girls retraced their steps, but without talking as they had

done on their way out. They walked silently side by side, till, at the

spot where the two paths crossed, and where they had before seen the

deer, Meta suddenly threw her arms round Elsa's neck, and kissed her

passionately and repeatedly.

"What is the matter, Meta?"

"Nothing--nothing at all! Only you have such beautiful eyes!"

Reinhold, meanwhile, hastened down the narrow woodland path, which led

from the place where he had found them, by a sharp descent over the

side of the hill, between tall beeches and thick underwood, down to the

sea-shore. He had not felt so gay and lighthearted since the days of

his childhood. He could have sung and shouted for joy; and yet he was

silent--quite silent, that he might not disturb the echo of her voice.

Only, as at a turn of the path the forest suddenly opened out, and the

sea, his beloved sea, appeared in the bright morning sunshine between

the trees that sloped down to the shore, he spread out his arms and

cried:

"I will be always true to you--always!"

Then he laughed at the double meaning of his words, laughed like a

schoolboy, and ran down the steep path as if he had wings to his feet.

BOOK II.

CHAPTER I.

"Tickets, please! This is the last station, gentlemen."

Reinhold handed his ticket to the guard, and cast a glance upon his

sleeping fellow-traveller. He, however, did not stir.

"Ticket, sir, please!" said the guard, in a louder voice.

The sleeper roused himself. "Ah, yes!" He felt in the side pocket of

his grey shooting-coat, gave up the required ticket, leaned back in his

corner again, and seemed to be already asleep when the train started.

When first he got into the train, some two or three stations back, two

other men in shooting-dress having accompanied him to the carriage, and

taken a somewhat noisy farewell, it had struck Reinhold that this was

not the first time that he had seen the slight active figure, and heard

the clear, imperious voice.

That the traveller was a military man, was evident from his

conversation with his friends, but in vain did he ransack his

recollections of the campaign to get on the right tack; it was all too

confused, incidents crowded too quickly on each other, there was

nothing to link these memories together. But as the sleeper changed his

position, and the light from the lamp fell more clearly upon him,

Reinhold looked with increasing interest upon the face which seemed so

strangely familiar. The well-formed forehead, shaded by short, curly,

brown hair, the fine straight nose, the delicate lips, with the slight

dark moustache, the finely chiselled though rather long chin--now he

knew where and when that face, more beautiful, it is true, and more

fascinating, had last been seen by him!

He of the grey shooting-coat, who had opened his eyes and was

carelessly glancing at his companion, turned his head aside, and then

immediately turning back, said:

"I beg your pardon, but it strikes me that we must have met before."

"So I think," replied Reinhold courteously; "but my memory has played

me false."

"In the campaign, perhaps?"

"That was my first thought, too."

"Perhaps my name may be some help. Ottomar von Werben, Lieutenant in

the ---- Regiment, No. 19."

A joyful thought struck Reinhold.

"My name is Lieutenant Reinhold Schmidt, of the Reserve. I had the

pleasure, not long ago, of travelling in the steamer from Stettin to

Sundin, with a general officer of your name, and his daughter----"

"My father and sister," said Ottomar. "Strange coincidence that--very!"

He sank back in his corner, from which he had raised himself, with a

civil bow.

"The Lieutenant of Reserve affords but slight interest to the

Guardsman," thought Reinhold to himself.

Under other circumstances he certainly would not have continued the

conversation which the other had cut so short; but now he could not

resist making an exception.

"I hope that the General and his daughter are well?" he began afresh.

"Perfectly," said Ottomar; "at least, I believe so. I have hardly

spoken to them since they came home the day before yesterday. I have

been on leave since yesterday morning shooting. You shoot?"

"I can hardly call myself a sportsman, though I have had opportunities

of joining in very unusual sport."

"Unusual?"

"I mean unusual for Europeans. A sailor----"

"Are you a sailor?"

"At your service. What I was going to say was that a sailor comes

across strange things sometimes."

"You interest me; tell me something about it. Shooting is a perfect

passion with me."

Ottomar had seated himself nearer to Reinhold, and looked at him with

his inquiring brown eyes. Those eyes found it easy work to charm an

answer out of Reinhold.

So he related his adventures in a buffalo hunt in the Arkansas

prairies, and in a tapir hunt in Ceylon, to which Ottomar listened

attentively, only now and then correcting some unsportsmanlike

expression, or begging for a clearer explanation on some point which

either he did not quite understand, or which seemed to be of

importance.

"That is capital!" he exclaimed at last. "He must be a good shot

that--what's his name?--the Englishman, Mr. Smirkson; and you can't

shoot badly either, but then you are a soldier. By the way, do you

still not remember where we came across each other? It must have been

in Orleans, as, so far as I can remember, that is the only time that my

regiment came in contact with yours."

"And it was in Orleans!" cried Reinhold--"of course it was in Orleans,

when our two regiments combined to furnish a guard; and a jolly guard

it was, too, thanks to your being such good company and having such a

cheery temper. How could I have failed to remember it, and even your

name, in the last few days? Now it is all coming back to me. Several of

your brother officers came in afterwards--a Herr von Walbach."

"Walbach--quite right; he fell afterwards before Paris, poor fellow. I

am very intimate with his family. Perhaps he has got the best of it; it

is horridly dull work since the campaign was over!"

"One has to get accustomed to everyday life again certainly," said

Reinhold; "but you soldiers remain in the same profession, and I do not

think that Count Moltke will let you rest long on your laurels."

"Heaven knows! It is hateful work; the campaign was child's play

compared to it!"

"But look you, it is a good deal harder upon us civilians, both in time

of war--which is certainly not our trade, so that we can hardly meet

the claims which are made upon us and which we make upon ourselves--and

after the war too, when we are expected to return to our trade as if

nothing had happened, and then generally find, to our cost, how hardly

men learn, how easily they forget. Luckily, my profession is something

like war--at least, in the moral qualities which it requires of a

man--and that may be the reason why I, for my part, cannot join in the

complaints which I have heard from so many upon this point."

"Just so--exactly," said Ottomar; "no doubt. Shall you stop long in

Berlin?"

He was looking out of window, from which many lights were now visible.

"A few weeks--perhaps months; it depends upon circumstances--matters

which I cannot foresee."

"I beg your pardon--I do not want to be impertinent--what did you say

your name was?"

He rubbed the window with his handkerchief where his breath had dimmed

it. Reinhold could not help smiling at the careless manner of keeping

up the conversation. "I can bear more from you than from most men," he

thought to himself, and repeated his name.

The face pressed against the window turned sharply towards him with an

expression of surprise and curiosity, for which Reinhold could not

account.

"I beg your pardon if I ask a very stupid question--have you relations

in Berlin?"

"Yes. I have not seen them for years; to visit them was the original

object of my journey."

"I--I know several people of your name. General----"

"We Schmidts are middle class, very middle class. My uncle, I believe,

has very considerable marble-works."

"In the Canal Strasse?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"Only by sight; a very stately old gentleman. We live in the

Springbrunnen Strasse, back to back, or rather shoulder to shoulder.

The court-yard of your uncle's place of business runs far into the Park

Strasse at the back, and the little garden belonging to our house (the

grounds were originally part of the same property) on one side joins

the large garden belonging to your uncle. We see each other over hedges

and walls without being acquainted--I mean formally, for, as I said, I

know your uncle by sight very well, and your cousin."

He let down the window; the train ran into the station.

"Are you expected?"

"Yes; it would otherwise be a doubtful experiment when one has not met

for ten years."

"Can I be of any use to you?"

Ottomar had risen and taken up his game-bag; he had held his gun between

his knees all the time.

"Thanks, very much."

The train stopped. Reinhold took his things out of the net. He could

not collect them all at once. When he turned round Herr von Werben had

already jumped out, Reinhold saw him once hastily threading the crowd,

and then lost sight of him as he let his eyes wander till they caught

sight of a man who was standing at some little distance. The stately,

broad-shouldered figure, the pose of the head held up so proudly, while

turning to right and to left as he looked about him, the thick beard,

almost entirely grey--how could he have doubted his recognising that

face at the first glance!

It was Uncle Ernst.

"Ah! my dear boy!"

Such a hearty tone was in the deep strong voice, and hearty and strong

was the pressure from the large muscular hand which was stretched out

to Reinhold.

"The very image of your father!" said Uncle Ernst.

The fine eyes which were fixed on Reinhold's face grew dim. The hand

which held his loosened its grasp, and his uncle caught him to his

breast and kissed him.

"My dear uncle!"

His own eyes were wet; he had not expected to be received with so much

affection by this strong stern man. It was but a passing emotion, and

Uncle Ernst said, "Your things came yesterday. Where is Ferdinanda?"

"Is she here?"

"There she comes."

A tall handsome girl came hurriedly up to them. "I had quite lost you,

father. How do you do, my dear cousin! Welcome to Berlin!"

A pair of melancholy blue eyes glanced at him with what Reinhold

thought a rather uncertain look. There was a sort of hasty

indifference, too, in the tone of the full deep voice, while the

pressure of the hand she gave him was but slight.

"I certainly should not have known you," said Reinhold.

"Nor I you."

"You were still a child then, and now----"

"And now we will try and get out of the crowd," said Uncle Ernst, "and

you can say what you have got to say to each other on the way and at

home."

He had already turned and went on a few steps; Reinhold was about to

offer his arm to his cousin when suddenly Herr von Werben stood before

him.

"I must say good-bye."

"I beg your pardon, Herr von Werben, but you disappeared so

suddenly----"

"I had hoped to be of some use, but I see I am too late. Will you

introduce me?"

"Lieutenant von Werben--my cousin, Fräulein Ferdinanda Schmidt."

Ottomar bowed, hat in hand. Ferdinanda returned the bow, very formally

it seemed to Reinhold.

"I have often had the pleasure of seeing Fräulein Schmidt at the window

when I have been riding by. I will not presume to think that I have

been honoured by any such notice in return."

Ferdinanda did not answer. There was a gloomy, almost severe,

expression upon her face, which made her look like her father.

"I will not detain you," said Ottomar; "I hope to have the pleasure of

meeting my fellow-traveller again. Good-bye, Fräulein Schmidt."

He bowed again and walked quickly away. Some knots of people collected

at the entrance came between them.

"Oh, do come!" said Ferdinanda.

She had taken Reinhold's arm and suddenly pressed forward impatiently.

"I beg your pardon, but I could not help introducing that man to you.

You did not seem to like him?"

"I? Why should I mind it? My father cannot bear waiting."

"Who was that?" asked Uncle Ernst.

"A Herr von Werben--a soldier. I knew him during the war, and fell in

by accident with some of his people on my way here."

"A son of the General's?"

"Yes."

Reinhold felt a touch from the hand which lay on his arm, and a low

voice said in his ear, "My father hates the Werbens--at least the

General--since '48----"

"Yes, by the way," said Reinhold.

Ferdinanda's shrinking from the introduction, her haste to put an end

to it--all was clear to him; and then he felt that sensation which is

common to every one who has suddenly seen a vista of pleasure opening

out before him, and as suddenly seen it withdrawn.

"There is my carriage," said Uncle Ernst. "Friedrich!"

A large carriage with two strong brown horses drove up. Uncle Ernst

stepped in; Reinhold helped in Ferdinanda. As he was following,

casually glancing on one side, he saw Ottomar von Werben standing at

some distance, with a soldier servant near him holding a dog in a

chain. Ottomar waved his hand. Reinhold answered the friendly greeting

with equal cordiality.

"I do not hate the Werbens," thought he to himself as he sank back in

the carriage.