X.

"Have you availed, yourself of the opportunity to talk to Erna?"

Hildegard asked Bertram as soon as they were alone.

Bertram had expected this question, and had sought and found time to

prepare his answer to it. His first impulse has been to taste the full

delights of triumph, and to assure Hildegard, in strict accordance with

the actual truth, that the Baron need never expect to gain Erna's

affection. But then he considered that so brusque a revelation, would,

without the slightest doubt, cause the proud lady to burst forth into a

tempest of indignation, would bring Erna into a disagreeable position,

and possibly involve her in extremely awkward scenes. Her feeble father

would be no support to her whatever--on the contrary, he wished the

decision to be put off as long as possible. And, lastly, he saw now

quite clearly that Hildegard's pressing invitation to make a lengthened

stay had had the very definite aim to secure in him, as in a very

influential friend, an ally in the execution of her plans. Now he had

failed in his diplomatic mission, and though they would not openly

deprive him of his confidential position, they would very surely not

consult him again. Future events would then occur behind his back, and

the sooner he went away the better for them. And was he to go now? He

felt as though he could as readily bid farewell to life and light.

And so his answer came to be nothing but an adroit evasion. He had, he

said, done his best, and Erna had met him in the heartiest and most

confiding manner. But on this very ground he considered himself

justified in stating that there was at present no trace of any definite

_penchant_ for the Baron on Erna's part, and that he could only advise

them all to possess their souls in patience, to bide their time, and to

hope for the best from the gradual, but all the more sure, influence of

daily intercourse.

The apparent genuineness of conviction with which all this was

expressed deceived Hildegard completely. Her assumption that Erna took

a special interest in the Baron was chiefly founded on Lydia's

assertions, and Lydia, poor soul, was for ever weaving matrimonial

projects, was much addicted to exaggeration, and to the making of

molehills into mountains, and would, in this particular case, to get

into Hildegard's good graces and maintain herself there, amply confirm

anything she might be desirous of hearing. Now, when Hildegard was for

the moment looking at things through friend Bertram's clearer and, as

she thought, perfectly unprejudiced eyes, she was bound to admit the

justice of his observations; indeed, in Erna's manner to the Baron

there was very little indication of anything like a warmer sentiment,

so little in fact, that the varying ways in which she treated him might

almost seem matters of congratulation. Bertram asked himself why

Hildegard did not give up a project which looked so very unlike

fulfilment, since Erna, in all the charm of her young beauty, would

assuredly have no lack of suitors, while her mother, not having the

slightest suspicion of her husband's awkward financial situation, must

needs, as indeed she did in her matrimonial plans in reference to Erna,

reckon wealth among the attractions. There seemed to be something

self-contradictory here, anyhow it was passing strange; and yet, as he

went on meditating, he thought he had found the key to the enigma. Fair

Hildegard herself was most pleasantly impressed by the Baron's striking

appearance and confident manner, and was much flattered by the homage

he paid to her beauty, her cleverness, her kindness, a homage to which,

he gave even in company a very perceptible, and in their not infrequent

_tete-a-tetes_ probably even a more emphatic expression. And then the

circumstance which, by the by, the Baron by no means concealed, that,

to use his own words, he was as poor as a church mouse, she looked upon

as a distinct point in his favour.

"Herein," she said to Bertram, "I see the finger of a just and

compensating Fate. I know, my friend, that you are too wise and

enlightened not to pardon an aristocratic fancy of mine, namely, that

it is best if the aristocracy marry among themselves, and the

_bourgeoisie_, for whom I have the greatest respect, also among

themselves. Well, I, being a very poor lady with a long pedigree--for,

indeed, the traditions of our family are reckoned by centuries--have

had to break with these traditions, and was in this way the first to

contract a _bourgeois_ alliance. I do not complain of my lot; it was my

lot, and there's an end of it; but I have never ceased to pray to God

that my only daughter might be granted a different fate. And if a

family, which is still older than mine, is enabled to resume its

rightful position in the world, I really do not know what better I

could wish, assuming always that Erna, as would doubtless be the case,

gets a husband who loves her, and who--not to reckon his little

cavalier's foibles, in reference to which a wise woman will be

judiciously blind, knowing that this kind of thing is sure to stop of

its own accord--is in every way worthy of her love."

"And whom," added Bertram mentally, "I hope to bring as completely

under my control as my husband."

He was convinced that this thought was the leading one in the

calculations of the selfish lady, in spite of the great care with which

she endeavoured to avoid even the faintest appearance of any egotistic

motive. Even as she was fond of representing her life as one long chain

of sacrifices made by her on behalf of others, so she would now appear

prepared to give up her own comfort for Erna's sake. Of course, she

explained, it would not be possible to leave the poor child alone in

town, among indifferent strangers; and she and Otto must in consequence

make up their minds to spend the winter there in future. This, to be

sure, would necessitate the purchase of a house of their own in town;

but the question of expense was not to be taken into consideration

where the happiness of their child was concerned; and, by a lucky

accident, there happened to be for sale, and at quite a reasonable

price, a newly-erected villa close to the Park, surrounded by a pretty

garden, and roomy enough to enable them all, parents and children, to

live comfortably together. And it would be quite feasible and not

very expensive either, to build a studio for the Baron, she added.

Perhaps Bertram would not mind driving to town with Otto, to look

at the house? When? Why not to-day? Otto, as usual, could not make

up his mind, although it would be an excellent investment, even

supposing--supposing--but no, that case was not likely to occur, the

momentary, somewhat unfavourable, aspect of things notwithstanding.

"For in this, too, my friend," she said, in concluding her

explanations, "you will agree with me: the more carefully we prepare

all things needful, and thus show the child, as it were, an image of

the safe and sure and peaceful happiness awaiting her, the more swiftly

and fondly her fancy will busy itself with that image, and from the

fair image to the fairer reality--_il n'y a qu'un pas_. But first we

must settle about the villa. There will be no difficulty if you speak

seriously to Otto."

"I promise," replied Bertram.

The incident was most opportune, he thought. Here Otto, already

harassed on all sides, was threatened, with huge additional

expenditure, before which even his fatal readiness to yield must needs

pause at length, as before an absolutely insuperable obstacle. The

consequences were clear. He could not simply meet his wife's request by

a refusal. There must be a full explanation between husband and wife;

there would be a fearful storm, but it had to come, it was absolutely

required to clear the sultry atmosphere, to disentangle the wretchedly

involved situation. Hildegard's frivolous scheme would burst like a

soap-bubble, and at one stroke Erna would be freed from an importunate

suitor, and her father from an unworthy and intolerable position.

Yesterday already he had been determined to stand by his friend through

all the anxieties, embarrassments, and perils which were bound to

ensue. To-day his heart beat anxiously, eager as he was to face those

perils, for every peril cleared out of her path and victoriously

conquered, was a trophy laid at her feet, hers, for whom he would have

willingly shed his heart's blood drop by drop.

Fancy his terror and his indignation when, driving to town with Otto

later in the day, he found his friend more removed than ever from any

manly resolve.

"The purchase of this villa, dear me--why, if Hildegard cares for it so

much--would, after all, be a comparative trifle--really. And then, what

I told you yesterday regarding my situation, why, dear me, you know me

well enough, old man, to ... to know how I am influenced by passing

moods. That makes me look at all things accordingly; things are either

black or white to me. And yesterday, why, I had a black, a very black

mood. To be sure, my factories are not a success, and, indeed, may now

and again involve a loss. But, then, look at those fields, and think of

the crop we'll have; and with such a prospect I can afford to leave

myself a very fair margin, the more so as the harvest in Russia and in

Hungary promises to be very bad--so the reports say--and in that case

we shall make no end of money. And then--look here--just you read his

paragraph in the paper about the railway question. Eh--and the

paragraph, I feel sure, is from the pen of the President of our own

local Parliament, who is, by the by, a great friend of mine, and has

for years been my lawyer. Well, what do you say now?"

"I say," replied Bertram gravely, "that things are exactly in the

position which you described yesterday. Your friend here clearly

represents only his own, or, if you like, your views and wishes; and

will, moreover, naturally put some pressure upon Government, by

representing it as impossible for them to decide differently from your

wishes and hopes."

"But the Government--which means the Court--is already more than half

won over. Lotter assures me...."

"For Heaven's sake! leave him out of the business."

"Oh, of course, of course; if you are so prejudiced against him that

you refuse him even the common credibility which you allow otherwise to

everybody!"

"There is no question here of credibility or incredibility," exclaimed

Bertram indignantly; "but the thing is this: you are mistaking your

illusions and hopes for realities and facts; you are voluntarily

blinding yourself lest you see the abyss into which you are about to

plunge. And mind this: by your miserable hesitation you are really

accelerating the coming of the dreaded moment; nay, you render it only

the more dreadful. There is still time; this very day you can go and

say to your wife: I have met with losses, terrible losses, and we must

needs retrench, and therefore.... Why, man, you will let it come to

this, that you must confess to her: We have nothing further to lose;

all is gone! Think of this, friend, I entreat you. Your boat is

overloaded; away with the ballast which all but sinks it now; overboard

with it all! Were it a question of yourself alone, you would be manly

enough not to hesitate; and with wife and child on board, whose ruin is

certain unless you act at once, you ... cannot, will not act!"

Otto would say neither yea nor nay. Bertram was silent in his despair.

What would come of it all?

And so they arrived in town, having hardly exchanged a word more. They

looked over the villa, and again hardly a word was exchanged; just an

indifferent remark here and there, nothing more. Otto was apparently

annoyed at something, but Bertram saw well enough that this appearance

of annoyance was but assumed to hide his irresolution.

"I know, I know," Otto said at last grumpily, "we are not likely to

agree as it is. Had we not better call together upon my lawyer and hear

his opinion about the whole business? He is, moreover, on your side, in

politics, and will be delighted to make your acquaintance."

Bertram seized eagerly upon so sensible a proposal, and to the lawyer's

they drove accordingly; but when they had got to the door, Otto

remembered that he had to do some commission for Hildegard: he even

explained--

"About those officers who are going to be quartered upon us, don't you

know?--extra provisions and that kind of thing. She can never, she

thinks, have too much on hand, in case.... Well, well, it's her nature

to ..."

And so the broad-shouldered figure of his friend passed down the lonely

sunlit street; and Bertram added, speaking to himself, this comment,

"And your nature is ... to do things by halves only, unless you mean,

in this case, to throw the whole responsibility upon my shoulders."

And in this view his friend's lawyer completely confirmed him.

"Look here," said the latter to Bertram, when, after a hearty, mutual

welcome, the two had swiftly grown to be confidential with each other,

"you may take my word for this, he is most anxious we should have a

perfectly unrestrained talk about his affairs, and has backed out of

being present simply to avoid having to hear all the disagreeable

things we could not spare him; moreover, he might oppose to you and to

me, separately, a certain resistance which he would not have the

courage to do if he, found us confronting him together. Under these

circumstances I do not consider it indiscreet, but I think I am acting

according to the wishes, and I know I am acting in the interest of our

common friend, if I now add a few words of explanation to what you know

already; then, indeed, you will be thoroughly acquainted with the state

of his affairs."

The lawyer then proceeded to describe Otto's position in detail; and to

his amazement Bertram found his own conception confirmed throughout.

Why, even his own image of the ballast which required to be heaved

overboard to set the ship once more afloat, figured in the exposition.

To be sure, Bertram now learned for the first time how weighty that

ballast really was. Thus, to give but one example, Otto had never

mentioned, had not even hinted at the fact that Hildegard's elder

sister, the widow of the late Secret Counsellor von Palm, and her whole

family, lived entirely upon Otto's bounty. "And that," said the lawyer,

"is an awful item! For the lady in question is, in every respect, a

true sister of your friend's wife. She thinks that death and the end of

all things must needs be at hand, if she and hers cannot live on a very

grand scale indeed. And then her house in Erfurth is a sort of

gathering-place for all who, by rank or position, may aspire to the

honour of appearing in such sublime surroundings; half-pay general

officers and colonels galore--and the little town was ever full of

them--and, of course, the whole number of officers actually on

duty in the garrison, and so on, and so on. The girls--and there is

half-a-dozen of them--are as bad as their mother, always excepting one

dear, sensible creature--not one of the pretty ones, though--whom, I

understand, you are about to meet in Rinstedt. Well, if the daughters

are extravagant, the two sons--both, as you know, in the army, go on as

though their uncle's cashbox had no bottom to it. Three times, four

times, already he has paid the debts of those young men, whom, by the

by, he cannot bear at all, and this, and all this, simply _in majorem

gloriam Hildegardis_, his well-beloved wife, a lady of such an old

family that the scions thereof cannot, of course, be measured by the

same standard as common mortals."

"And do you not perceive any way of escape from this vicious circle our

friend is wandering in?" Bertram asked.

"Only the one you have already pointed to," the lawyer made answer.

"But how the deuce can you advise a man who will not be advised, or

rather, who accepts all the advice you give him and never acts upon it

for all that ...? And there is one thing yet in which you have, too,

judged aright. It is by no means too late yet! If he give up those

factories of his which will never pay, even if--and on that his whole

hope is now centred--the new line of rails passes straight through his

estates, and if he meets My Lady with a _sic voleo, sic jubeo_, and if,

with one determined cut, he severs the boundlessly costly train from My

Lady's garment, leaving it, for all that, a very respectable garment,

he would be enabled to discharge his other liabilities gradually, or at

once if somebody would, at fair interest, lend him a biggish capital.

This, of course, times being bad, will not be very easy to manage, more

particularly if people begin to talk about his being embarrassed."

"And how large, think you, should that capital be?"

"I think that I could settle everything if I had a hundred thousand

thalers at my disposal, without there being any formal arrangement with

his creditors, or even a voluntary surrender."

"In that case I beg to put the sum mentioned at your disposal."

The lawyer looked up in amazement.

"I had no idea that you were so wealthy," he said simply.

"It does not represent half my fortune. Anyhow, I am not running any

risk."

"No, to be sure," replied the lawyer; "I should be able to secure you

against any loss; the rate of interest, as I observed before, would be

low. But I may tell you beforehand that your generous offer will be

refused. I know our friend. He would rather borrow from the most

unscrupulous cut-throat of a usurer than from you, for whom he has, as

I know, the profoundest respect. For, though you may be the best of

friends, you are not his brother, not his cousin, not a kinsman at all.

If you could say to him, you owe it to our family to do so--such an

appeal to the family honour, which he holds in the highest esteem, he

would comprehend much better. But as it is, his very pride, or his

vanity rather--for vanity is distinctly his ruling passion--will be

hurt; he will appear to be immensely grateful to you, will say that you

are his good angel, and--will not accept a farthing from you, as long

as he sees, or fancies he sees, any other way out. He may possibly come

to his senses when his last hope, the railway, proves illusory. I

fear--I am a keen promoter of the project myself, but on different

grounds--I fear that will occur presently. Meanwhile, try your luck, or

his rather, by all means. But I repeat, you will not succeed with the

mere appeal to your friendship."

Bertram, as previously arranged, then called for his friend, and as

they drove home together he made his attempt The lawyer's prophecy was

literally fulfilled. Otto overflowed in expressions of the greatest

gratitude for an offer so thoroughly characteristic of his generous

friend, and which, for the sake of their long friendship, he would

unconditionally accept--if there were any occasion for it. But that,

thank goodness, was not the case.

And then came the wretched old story which Bertram knew by heart

already, and to which, for all that, he now listened; not, as before,

with disgust, but with an odd feeling of anxiety and doubt. To be sure,

mere friendship was not sufficient. He would have required another

title, one giving the right to demand what now he begged for in vain.

Should he venture upon the word that was trembling on his lips, and

that yet was ever beating a cowardly retreat to the tremulous heart?

Cowardly? No! It would have been cowardice, miserable cowardice, if he

had spoken it; cowardice, trying to take by miserable money-bribes a

fortress invincible to valour and high courage; cowardice and treason,

treason to the sanctity of a love which had hitherto been unselfish and

as pure as the heart of the great waters. If things came to the worst,

if it was a question of guarding the beloved child against common want,

she would be noble enough not to refuse the helping hand of a

protecting friend. But woe to him if that hand were not unsullied; if

even the shadow of a suspicion of selfishness fell upon it!

And as they thus drove homewards, with the evening darkening around

them, he fixed his eye on high, where now the heavenly lights were

appearing in ever-increasing numbers, with ever-growing splendour; and

he reverently repeated to himself the poet's great saying of the stars

above, in whose majestic beauty man should rejoice without coveting

their possession.