His master's long absence had at length commenced to disquiet faithful
Konski considerably. True, he knew from his ten years' experience that
he need not pay much attention to any orders that master gave him when
in a state of great excitement; and, of course, the later it grew, the
more improbable it became that the departure, although announced, would
really take place; but then, supposing some accident had happened to
him? The doctor in Berlin had most strongly urged him to take every
possible precaution lest, during the first few weeks anyhow, his master
should over-exert himself in any way--and master had hurried down those
terrace steps like one possessed! And all on account of this infernal
old maid who was never allowed to visit at this house when they, master
and he, were here! Oh, why had he not held his silly tongue, and not
brought the great news at once to his master!
He would have liked hurrying after him into the village, but dared not
leave his post. And now their host came in and inquired for master, and
seemed greatly concerned when Konski, to soothe his own anxiety as it
were, hinted that his master had not been over pleased when told that
additional guests were expected; and Konski added, as a sort of
conjecture of his own, that he had probably gone out for a walk, so as
to avoid having to be present at their reception. And meanwhile My Lady
had returned and had sent for him, and Konski had to repeat to her
Ladyship--for whom he entertained the most confounded respect--what he
had already told her Ladyship's husband; and her Ladyship had looked so
hard at him with those piercing brown eyes of hers, that he was jolly
glad when he was back at his post of observation at the lobby-window,
whence he could survey the whole extensive court-yard. And there--an
open carriage was just entering it; only two people in it--a lady and a
gentleman--thank Heaven, one lady only! In the gathering twilight
Konski could not distinguish, the lady's features or figure, but, if
there was only one lady, why, who could it be but dear Miss Erna? And
from her, master was not likely to run away; and all was well now, if
only he himself were safely back.
The door below was opened. Konski heard his master's step upon the
stairs and hurried to meet him, joyfully telling him all that he had
observed; and did master know already that Miss Erna was the only lady
who had arrived?
His master had thrown himself into an arm-chair in the sitting-room,
where careful Konski had already lighted a liberal supply of candles,
and was staring hard in front of him, passing at intervals his hands
over brow and eyes. Suddenly he sat bold upright and said:
"What did you say?"
Poor Konski had said nothing at all during the last few minutes, but
inquired now whether his master would not dress for supper; he thought
it was getting quite late enough.
Bertram rose and passed into the adjoining bedroom where Konski had
laid out such a costume as he deemed appropriate for the occasion. He
lent him the necessary aid, and marvelled greatly that his master, who
was wont to talk to him during the process of dressing more than at any
other time, did not say a single word to-night. Another curious thing
was this: quite contrary to his custom, the master looked hard at
himself in the mirror again and again, and, strangest sight of all, he
pulled and twisted his moustache about! However, seeing that master,
though looking very grave, did not appear either annoyed or angry,
Konski was quite satisfied. To-night then, anyhow, their departure need
not be provided for.
There was a knock at the door. Their host entered as hurriedly as was
consistent with his being so very stout.
"Thank Heaven that you are here!" he exclaimed, shaking both his
friend's hands again and again, as though he had been 'long looked-for,
come at last!' "Thank Heaven; we have been quite frightened about you.
Hildegard was very angry that I had left you alone. I said to her,
'Why, he is not a child, requiring to be watched at every step;' that
is to say, I did not actually say so in so many words. I ... thought
so. My wife is terribly nervous to-day. I had told her at once ..."
Here he noticed the servant's presence, and in some embarrassment broke
off abruptly. Bertram having now completed his toilet, the two
gentlemen left the room together. As they were walking through the long
passage which led to the main building, his host put one arm round his
friend's slender waist and said confidentially, lowering his voice by
way of precaution--
"I had told Hildegard at once that you would be annoyed; at least I did
not say so in so many words, but I--hinted it, for, you know, my wife
cannot beat contradiction; and I soon found out that the two women,
between them, had determined that the meeting should take place. Now
Erna tells me--she is a darling, is she not? a little peculiar, a
little odd, but always good to me; how nice that you met on the
hills--well, Erna tells me that you were not particularly angry that
Lydia had accompanied her; that is to say, Erna does not know anything
of the old stories, or has only heard some vague rumours that you
cannot bear each other, or that you cannot bear Lydia. Never mind, it's
all the same now; only tell me that you are not particularly angry."
"I was at first, but I am so no longer."
"That's all I ask for. And after all, old chap, well, misunderstandings
and all that sort of thing! But the blame is sure to be yours, or
almost entirely yours. Why, it's always the man who is to blame, eh? I
should know that much, having been married these twenty years!"
He laughed. Bertram, to change the conversation, asked where the others
were.
"The ladies are on the verandah; the Baron was still in his room when I
came away."
"By the by," Bertram asked, "who is this Baron? You were talking about
him once or twice at table, but I confess I hardly listened."
"Lotter?" his friend said. "Look here; you'll like him immensely.
Stunning fellow, Lotter. Has read every mortal thing; plays the piano;
paints--portraits, landscapes, anything you like. Has come home to do
some painting; studies at our academy, don't you know?--and is a
constant guest at Court, of course."
"Does he belong to these parts?"
"Oh; dear no! hails from Wuertemberg. A very, very old family;
Lotter-Vippach. His father was a General, I believe; his uncle a
Minister of State; that sort of thing, don't you know? He has been in
the army himself; was in the '70 campaign. But he is a bit of a rover.
Has been up and about a good deal; in Algiers, South America; that,
sort of thing. I pressed him to come and stay here during the
man[oe]vres, to help me to do the honours, as I never was in the army
myself. He is awfully anxious to make your acquaintance; has read all
your works and--and--but where on earth are our ladies? I'll go and
look. You stop where you are; do not come out bareheaded."
The last words had already been spoken in the garden saloon, the great
French windows of which, leading to the verandah, stood wide open. His
host had hurried off to look for the ladies, and Bertram, left alone,
strode up and down in the large, half-darkened room. Had he not,
perhaps, yielded all too readily to Erna's command? If obedience was to
be easy to him, nay, if it was to be at all possible for him, she ought
to have stayed by his side. And now her very image was gone from his
inner eye, and its place had been taken by her whom he had once so
passionately loved, as if twenty years had not gone by since he last
saw her, as if she had only passed a minute ago with her beautiful
friend and hostess into the garden, thence to return immediately under
some pretext or other, to rush to his embrace, to shower hot,
passionate kisses upon him--here, in this very saloon, as she had so
often, so often done--here, where the faint fragrance of violets still
seemed to float, that she was so fond of, and which in those days he
was ever associating with her presence!
He was standing in the semi-darkness, his back turned to the verandah;
a gentle rustling sound was coming up the steps. He turned. Framed in
by one of the doors against the brighter background of the evening sky,
appeared the shadowy outline of a lady, lingering a moment or two on
the threshold, then hastening with raised arms towards him, as he stood
motionless, spellbound.
Before he could prevent it, she had sunk on her knees before him, had
seized his hands which he was involuntarily stretching forth to lift
her up, and now she was pressing them to her bosom, to her lips. A
dense cloud of violet perfume came floating up to him.
"Mercy, Charles, mercy!"
"I entreat you, My Lady, ... for Heaven's sake ..."
He had been barely able to stammer out these words; he felt the most
acute physical anguish at his heart; cold beads of perspiration stood
upon his forehead; ice-cold were the hands which Lydia had held till
then, and which now she dropped, terrified, rising as she did so from
the ground.
"My Lady!" she murmured, "My Lady ... Ah, I knew it!"
The convulsive pain at his heart had ceased now; it beat on, but
slowly, heavily; even so his anger and pain were giving way to
compassion.
"Let bygones be bygones," he said.
"If it were possible!" whispered Lydia.
"It must be possible."
She knew from his gentle but firm tone that, for the moment, she dare
go no farther; and though she had to confess to herself that she had
been deceived in her fond hope of reconquering his affections by one
grand assault at starting, something was secured anyhow, and something
desirable and even necessary--a fairly satisfactory footing when they
met in society.
"The dear voice!" she whispered; "the old, dear, gentle voice! But ...
those hard, cruel words! Yet I have no right to complain, and I will
not lament; it must, indeed, be possible!"
Much to his relief Bertram was spared the necessity of replying, for
his host and hostess were just then coming in from the garden,
accompanied by Erna and Baron Lotter. At the same moment a servant
opened the folding-door which led to the dining-room; the two gentlemen
were introduced to each other; the Baron offered his arm to the lady of
the house, Lydia was clinging to the master, and thus Erna fell to
Bertram's share. They were lingering a little behind the rest.
"How good you are!" whispered Erna.
"Am I?" he made answer. "I feel most contemptible."