The little trap was so light, and the road was in such good condition,
that the friends were able to drive at a very fair pace, in spite of
the not inconsiderable gradient. Soon they passed into the wood.
The easy, comfortable motion, the perfect beauty of the morning, the
fact that the friends were for the first time in undisturbed
companionship--all seemed to favour a confidential exchange of
thoughts. Yet both men were silent, and barely exchanged a word or two
on indifferent topics. At last Otto said, after he had taken a stolen
side-glance or two of his friend--
"What do you think, Charles--shall we walk a bit? The road now will be
virtually level for some distance."
Bertram nodded assent. The carriage stopped. Otto bade the man drive
slowly on in front of them, in the direction of the factory.
"You never can be sure," he began, as they were striding along the
well-kept footpath by the side of the road, "that these beggars do not
hear more than they should; and I particularly want to ask you
something. Tell me--but quite honestly, mind--how do you like the
Baron?"
"Let us come to the point at once," replied Bertram; "I have had a talk
with your wife."
"Oh! indeed!" exclaimed Otto, hiding his embarrassment as best he could
by bursting out laughing, and abruptly leaving off again. "That is to
say, I rather thought you would. I should like to have done the same--I
mean had a talk with you--yesterday, in fact; but my wife told me not
to ... and, don't you know, the ladies always claim precedence."
"Very well; then let me commence at the point where my conversation
with your wife came to an end--with the question which she either could
not or would not answer when I pressed her, and which seems to me of
paramount importance--Does Erna love the Baron? Have you, between you,
or have you yourself, any proof of--any support of this? Have you made
any observation from which you could conclude such a thing?"
"Look here, old man," said Otto, "you are asking a lot at once. I can't
follow you. Proof--support--observation! Good Heaven! Who can look into
a girl's head and heart? She has said nothing to me, and rather than
ask her--ask her--it's such a queer question to ask, and possibly one
might only do harm by it, and learn nothing in the long run, or at
least not the truth. Of course she is fond enough of me, and has
confidence in me. Heaven knows how fond I am of her! but father and
daughter, you know--or rather you do not know, for you never had a
daughter--that's a curious business!"
He had taken off his hat and was scratching his head in his perplexity.
Bertram understood that he was not likely to get anything out of him
that way. After a pause Bertram said--
"Well, let us assume--although, to say the truth, I find it very hard
to do so--let us assume that Erna does love this man. Would you then be
able to say Yea and Amen with a good conscience? In other words, are
you convinced that the man would make Erna happy? That he has, anyhow,
the qualities which according to human reasoning and experience, render
her happiness at least possible? That he is a man of honour, of fit and
upright disposition;--in a word, that he is a gentleman?"
"A gentleman!" exclaimed Otto in amazement "Why, good Heaven!--a man
belonging to such a family--bearing such a name--a constant guest at
Court--invited to every ball, every evening party there; besides
joining their private circle, once or twice every week--why, he must be
a gentleman!"
"The deuce he must!" exclaimed Bertram angrily. "If you have no better
guarantee than Court balls and such like humbug!"
"But what more would you have?" said Otto. "What more would any one
have? If that is no guarantee I wonder what you would call one. I have
it as a matter of certainty from Lydia, that his nomination as
Chamberlain is made out, is lying ready for signature in the Grand
Duke's cabinet; and Lydia ought to know, for, between you and me, she,
with the help of our Court Marshal, an old friend of Lotter's father,
has been urging the matter strongly at Court. Lotter is very grateful
to her, and says quite frankly, that but for her he might have had to
wait much longer; and I think that is, a trait in his favour--although
I am convinced--but you must please not give any indication that you
know--although I am convinced that Lydia has not tried her hardest for
Lotter's own sake, but to conciliate my wife, who is bent upon seeing
her future son-in-law hold some Court appointment. And the reason why
Lydia had to keep in my wife's good graces is not far to seek; and, old
fellow, she has had her way at last, and is allowed to sojourn once
more under the same roof with you. You see: _manus manum lavat._"
"So I see, indeed," laughed Bertram. "And now Hildegard must again keep
me in good-humour, that I, in my turn, may keep you in good-humour. It
were strange indeed, if, under these circumstances, we were not, all of
us, in the very best humour!"
"This hardly seems to be your case as yet," said Otto, "your laughter
notwithstanding."
"Nor, I hope, yours either," exclaimed Bertram.
"Why do you hope so?"
Bertram made no answer. His Heart was full of sorrow and wrath. He saw
that the whole affair was arranged--among the two women anyhow--and the
easy-going henpecked husband by his side would be sure to say yes to
everything, had probably done so already, and this was but the second
scene this morning in a nicely-arranged comedy, with all the parts
carefully distributed beforehand. Evidently the drive had but one
object--to give Otto an opportunity of saying his part. And he,
himself?--Why, barely an hour ago he had solemnly protested to the fair
stage-manager that never more would he act again! And she had listened
to his solemn protest without laughing in his face! Well, well; there
might yet be a chance of interpreting some passage in a way that the
clever lady had not thought of!
Otto broke the silence, after they had been walking side by side for
some little time, by saying somewhat humbly--
"You are angry with me!"
"What right could I have to be so?" replied Bertram. "I am no relation
of yours. I am nothing but a friend; and, as such, I have no right
whatever. It is only my duty to give an honest answer if you consult me
on a matter of importance. And there is properly no consultation in
this case. You are not in need of any advice; you, her parents, are
resolved. Nothing is wanting, but the merest trifle--Erna's consent.
And, as that is sure to be given in good time, the whole thing is
clearly settled, and we may as well talk of something else."
"No, no!" exclaimed Otto, "nothing is settled; and the matter is by no
means clear--clear--not in my mind, anyhow; and Hildegard has not the
faintest conception how things really stand. She thinks it is only my
want of resolution that ... And because she knows how much I value your
judgment--if I could only tell you everything ..."
"But you cannot, and you would be, sorry for it afterwards. Therefore,
you had better not try."
"But I must at length tell some one, and there is no one else in the
world whom I could say it to. Listen: I ... I ..."
A kind of spasm passed over the full, round, good-humoured face; the
blue eyes, which he kept rigidly fixed upon his friend, seemed to
struggle against rising tears.
"I--I am ruined!"
He had just managed to pronounce these words hoarsely; then he broke,
down and sunk upon a log of wood which was lying by the roadside.
Bertram had, at first to struggle against the terrible notion that his
friend had suddenly gone mad. But his look, though one of utter
despair, was not that of a madman.
"What is this you say, Otto? Impossible, impossible!" he said, sitting
down upon the log by the side of his friend, who seemed bereft of all
strength. "Go on, anyhow, that I may judge what it comes to. I am quite
convinced--beforehand that it comes to nothing at all. But speak, for
goodness sake, speak!"