Even on this stirring evening Konski had not been oblivious of his
duty. He knew from experience that his master was wont to retire from
festivities before their actual close, and thus Bertram, on entering
his rooms, found his candles duly lighted, and all preparations made
for the night. He praised his faithful servant for his careful
attention, but told him he was not in a hurry to go to bed, as he was
expecting a visit from Lieutenant Ringberg, and that Konski might hurry
back to his sweetheart, as no doubt he would like.
This he said in his wonted playful tone, to Konski's intense delight,
for the servant gathered from this that his fear, lest his master
should again be the worse for all the noise and excitement of the big
entertainment, had been uncalled-for. He even ventured upon a remark on
the subject.
"I am astonished myself," Bertram said in reply. "I think you must be
right; we both had put ourselves down too soon as old fogies."
Bertram smiled as he spoke, and Konski thought that his hint had fallen
upon fruitful soil, and that his own favourite wish would, after all,
be fulfilled. Perhaps his Aurora might know some details. To be sure,
My Lady had given strict orders that within ten minutes after
the departure of the last carriage no soul was to stir about the
mansion-house, lest any of the officers billeted there should be
disturbed in their brief slumbers. But Aurora would surely find out
some place where they could quietly converse.
So the faithful servant left Bertram, and instantly the master's serene
mien changed, and assumed a look of great anxiety. He listened: perhaps
his expected visitor was even now crossing the servant's path. No; the
noise died away in the corridor and on the stair. Konski had vanished
somewhere in the court-yard, and all now was silent. Bertram began to
pace softly up and down his room, then paused again, listening. What if
Kurt were to learn that the duel was to be fought for his sake? In that
case, the chances were everything to nothing that he would insist upon
precedence, and would himself challenge the Baron. Bertram, anyhow, had
some scruples as to whether he should not have told the young man the
true state of affairs, because he had now exposed Kurt to the
possibility of one or other of the witnesses of the scene in the
card-room misinterpreting Kurt's action, and asserting that he had
simply been unwilling to understand Lotter's insulting remarks; and
this would, of course, according to the military code of honour, have
been identical with a reproach of downright cowardice.
But, then, it might be hoped that in the wild confusion and frantic
excitement of the moment, no one had been at leisure to observe the
little incident minutely enough to be able to give a clear account of
it either to himself or to any one else. On such occasions a dispute or
wrangle was by no means of rare occurrence, and none of the spectators
had looked as though they were in the habit of attaching much
importance to such scenes; and it certainly would be foreign to the
good, easy-going Thuringians to have done so. Fortunately, not one of
Kurt's fellow-officers had been present at the time; and even Herr von
Busche, the young gentleman from the Woods and Forests, had only come
in at the last moment. The question was simply whether the Baron would
subsequently try to pick a quarrel with Kurt, seeing his first attempt
had clearly failed through no fault of Kurt's; and now, of course, the
Baron would have a capital chance of doing so. The pity of it, thought
Bertram; why had he blindly followed that inner voice which bade him
choose Kurt for his second? Why? It had been Bertram's only chance of
getting one deep, searching look into the young man's heart? But was
not the fulfilment of his ardent prayer purchased all too dear, if it
led the way to the very thing which he was desirous of preventing at
the sacrifice of his own life?
And yet, he said to himself, he need not quite despair. Lotter, to be
sure, now knew who was his real rival. And the desire to wreak his
vengeance upon that rival, to annihilate him, if possible, was very
sure to become overpowering in the heart of a hot-blooded, terribly
angered, absolutely unscrupulous man, one never at a loss, and one
passionately in love with Erna. But was this really the case? No, and
again, no! That man never had loved Erna. His whole suit had, from
beginning to end, been nothing but a vulgar speculation upon Erna's
presumably colossal fortune, by means of which he hoped to free himself
from disagreeable temporary embarrassments, and to continue his
good-for-nothing life of self-indulgent ease. Even before Kurt had
appeared upon the scene, those dreams of a brilliant future had become
greatly obscured; he had, it was clear, been virtually dropped; and he
was surely quick enough to have found out speedily to whom he was
indebted for this fate. His savage utterances to Lydia were sufficient
proof that he knew quite well who, from the very beginning, had stood
between Erna and him, who afterwards had delayed the decision,
prevented any further approach, roused the distrust of the parents,
turned the daughter's thoughts away, and ultimately had done the very
worst for him. If there was any one who had deserved the Baron's wrath
and hatred, on whom his vengeance was certain to fall, surely it was
himself. Why pick a quarrel with any one else as well? The Baron was no
coward, far from it; yet, being a perfect shot, he would have it all
his own way with an opponent like Bertram, who had hardly ever hit the
target when they practised together. Why then should the Baron not play
a trump card when lie had one in his hands?
Thus cudgelling his brain, carefully weighing every reason for and
against it, Bertram kept viewing his position, and all the while the
weary moments seemed to creep slowly, slowly by, and each succeeding
one weighed more and more heavily upon his soul. And yet, would he not
perchance learn all too soon, that his bold attempt to take the place
of Erna's lover, and thus to guard their new-born happiness, which was
already so much endangered, against a new and most serious peril, had
failed, and that he himself had missed this most excellent opportunity
of dying? He was doomed to go on living this life of his, which had
lost its savour and had no longer any meaning for him! Half an hour had
already gone by; they might have finished their consultation long ere
this, for there was little enough to consult about--unless it was the
other duel!
In the court-yard, whence the noise of the departing carriages and
divers shouts had been ascending, silence began to prevail. Bertram
could master his impatience no longer; he stepped across the corridor
and went to one of the windows looking out upon the court-yard which
the expected lieutenant would have to cross. Presently he heard a
swift, elastic step upon the stairs; he hastened to meet his hurrying
visitor, and cried, holding out his hand to him--
"Is everything settled?"
"Everything."
"Thank Heaven!" Bertram had all but said; he just managed to change it
into a polite, "Thank, you so much!"
He kept Kurt's hand in his own as he led him into his room. He made him
sit upon the sofa, and seated himself by his side. Kurt thought that
one could not welcome a dear friend, the bringer of the most pleasant
news, with greater warmth and delight. This feeling was still more
strengthened when his singular host presently sprang up again, and
fetched from his stock of provisions for the journey a bottle of wine,
which he proceeded to uncork; next he brought some glasses, and even a
small box of cigars. Although no smoker himself, he said, he always had
some cigars by him for his friends.
He filled the glasses, and held out his own to Kurt.
"May everything turn out as we wish!"
"With all my heart!" replied the young officer.
Kurt said these words with a deep, almost melancholy gravity; which
contrasted strangely with the gladsome excitement of the older man;
Kurt's lips barely touched the wine, whilst Bertram drained his glass
hurriedly, greedily, and instantly refilled it.
"I have fasted almost all day," he said, as if by way of excuse. "A
festive entertainment always puts me out and takes away my appetite.
But now, please, tell me--do they agree to everything?"
Kurt reported with military brevity and precision. The only difficulty
had been to fix the time, as the Baron had at first asserted that he
could not delay his departure beyond noon on the following day at the
latest; ultimately, however, he had agreed to the meeting coming off at
six o'clock in the afternoon. The place was to be a certain spot in the
great forest, almost exactly midway between Rinstedt and the town, by
the banks of a little lake. It would be easy to move thence to a still
more remote portion of the wood, in case the man[oe]vres should have
brought any one to the neighbourhood, which, in its normal state, is
absolutely deserted.
"I remember the place exactly from former walks," Bertram said.
"Capital," replied the young man, "for that removes another
difficulty--namely, how you were to find your way to it from the town.
The spot suits me singularly well, because we shall probably bivouac
not a mile from it. I forgot to mention that I have already secured the
services of our very skilful staff-surgeon, and that Herr von Busche
will provide a carriage. Lastly, for the sake of keeping the whole
affair secret, it seemed desirable that the Herr Baron should not go
straight from here to the meeting. So, under pretext of wishing to make
to-morrow an excursion to the scene of the man[oe]vres in company with
Herr von Busche, of returning here at night, and leaving definitely on
the day following, he has sent word asking his host and hostess to
excuse him until to-morrow evening, and even now he is driving with
Herr von Busche to the ranger's house, where he is to pass the night."
"Excellent! excellent!" exclaimed Bertram. "Everything is arranged most
thoughtfully and carefully. I thank you very much. Herr von Busche
appears to have been perfectly willing to facilitate all arrangements?"
"He was charming," replied Kurt; "nay, more, he told me quite openly
that he was doing the Herr Baron this service most reluctantly, very
much against his own will indeed, and only in deference to the
traditional courtesy in such matters, and that he would give a good
deal, if it lay in his power to settle the whole affair amicably. I
confess I fully sympathise with him in the last point. It was a most
painful thought for us both that a man like you should risk his life
against a Baron Lotter, who, it seems, does not enjoy any one's special
sympathy; and all the chances are against you, too."
"Why all the chances?"
"Herr von Busche said that your opponent was one of the best
pistol-shots that he knew, unerring of aim, and steady of eye and hand.
Herr von Busche, of course, has never seen you practise, but he fears,
and so do I, that ..."
"That I am a miserable shot?" exclaimed Bertram smilingly. "Out with
it! Yes, yes, you gentlemen have little confidence in us bookworms for
this sort of thing. But fortunately you are mistaken. I am more or less
out of practice, I admit; but I can shoot a little, and at such a short
distance too!"
"I am delighted to hear you say so," replied Kurt. "And yet I would
like to ask you if there is no possibility of bringing about an
amicable settlement. It is not by any means too late yet. Herr von
Busche quite agrees with me in this. Only, as we are both absolutely
ignorant of the real cause ..."
"But I have already told you that an old feud is about to be settled,"
Bertram interrupted him somewhat impatiently. "The momentary cause--by
the way, a small lesson in good manners which I gave the Baron--is of
no consequence at all."
"So Herr von Busche, too, had been told by his client, and we agreed to
accept this as sufficient, considering that a man like you would not
act in such an affair except with due deliberation, and that we younger
men must respect your motives, even if we regret that they are not
communicated to us."
"I thank you both all the more for the sacrifice which you are making
for me," exclaimed Bertram, holding out his hand to Kurt.
"Then I will say good-bye; you will be in need of rest."
Kurt had risen; Bertram retained him.
"Stay a little longer," he said, "if you are not too tired. I am not
fatigued at all. To-morrow's meeting is not weighing upon my mind in
the slightest; nay, more, I am as sure of my good fortune as ever Caesar
was of his; and I hope, confidently, that we two shall meet many a time
again in the land of the living. Yet one should not claim from the
future what the present offers, and therefore let me, at this present
moment, touch upon a matter which concerns you very specially, and
which I have, Heaven knows, much more at heart than this wretched
business over which we have already wasted far too much precious time."
A deep blush burned upon the young officer's cheeks; his dark eyes now
evaded the bright light of those great blue orbs, whose extraordinary
brilliancy and beauty he had already repeatedly admired in the course
of their previous conversation.
"You know what I wish to speak about?" Bertram asked next; and again
the young man was struck by the complete harmony of the ring of that
voice and of the radiance of those eyes.
"I think I do," he replied, almost in a whisper.
"Then you will know, too, the sort of relation in which I stand to
Erna?"
Kurt still dared not look up. He nodded his assent.
"But you cannot know," continued Bertram, "how very intimate this
relation is--so much so, that I cannot find quite an appropriate name
for it. I should say that of a father towards a most beloved child, if
there did not mingle with my feelings for her a touch which--perhaps
you will understand me--I would call chivalrous tenderness. This touch
may perhaps occur in other cases too, I mean between a real father and
daughter--I am sorry to say I never had a daughter of my own--and I
only mention this element, because it helps me to understand why Erna,
who otherwise confides in me unconditionally, has kept her love a
secret from me. Perhaps it was solely an outcome of the long interval
of time during which we had not met; in such cases a kind of
estrangement is apt to occur, which, to be sure, once overcome, is wont
to be followed by a greater cordiality. But above all, the poor darling
deemed herself rejected, betrayed. Her happiness she would gladly have
let her paternal friend share; unhappiness always seals the lips of the
proud; and yet I know that more than once the secret was trembling upon
those sweet lips of hers, and that had she overcome her shy shrinking,
she would have spared herself--and spared you, my friend--much
suffering; and the palms in the winter garden would, an hour ago, have
waved their magnificent heads above two happy, blissful souls, and not
above two young fools who, from sheer love, were tearing each other's
hearts to pieces!"
Kurt gave a quick quiver, and all but jumped from the sofa; but
Bertram's eyes shone forth in glorious radiance, and a smile of
infinite tenderness played about his mouth. A strange thrill passed
through the young man's heart, as though he were in the presence of
something unapproachably lofty, something which imperatively demanded
humble submission and confiding obedience. So he lowered his eyes,
which had flashed indignantly for a moment, and said, scarcely above
his breath--
"I thank Heaven that He led you to that spot."
"And I," replied Bertram, taking both the young man's hands and
pressing them heartily, "I thank you for that word which sets me free
from all restraint, and takes away the last remnant of shrinking
shyness. Who, indeed, would not shrink, feel awe-struck, when it comes
to touching those tender threads that spin themselves from heart to
heart, until, God willing, they become united in a woof so strong that
death itself cannot rend, it? What God joins, let no man put asunder;
what God puts asunder, let no man try to join! What has come between
you two is sheer misunderstanding, provoked by extraordinary
circumstances, which would have puzzled even older and more experienced
people, and in which you young, passionate, inconsiderate folk knew
not what to do. And being so thoughtless and helpless, you have
assuredly committed mistakes, mistakes on either side, and the demon of
pride--'by that sin fell the angels'--will have gloated over it all.
Not to enable me to register and chronicle your mutual faults, but only
in order that, being taught by the past, we may look the future more
clearly in the face, just tell me how it all came about? When did you
make Erna's acquaintance? Was it not in her aunt's house in Erfurt?"
"Yes," replied Kurt; "and to know her and love her was one and the same
thing; nay, I may say, without the slightest exaggeration, that she was
one 'whom to look at was to love.' One evening, I saw her at a party. I
had been visiting at the house for some time, and I think I was rather
fond of Augusta von Palm, who is staying here now, and with dear Agatha
I was on terms of heartiest friendship; but Agatha; wishing to give me
a surprise, had not told me of Erna's visit. So I saw her quite
unexpectedly among the other young ladies. It would be quite bootless
for me to try and describe what went on in my heart. So, I thought
afterwards, the men must have felt of whom the Bible tells us that they
were held worthy of beholding some divine apparition. My breath failed
me; all the others present seemed to vanish from my sight; I saw only
her, or, properly speaking, not her, only her eyes. It seemed like a
double stream of unearthly, transcendent light; and again it was a
stream which bore me resistlessly onward and upward into realms of
bliss, whereof but an hour before I had known nought, divined nought,
and which yet were, I felt clearly, my true home, to which I was soon
returning after much aimless wandering in far off regions."
The young man's voice quivered. He drained the glass which, before, his
lips had scarcely touched. Bertram filled it afresh. Kurt never saw how
his hand shook as he poured out the wine, nor observed how curiously
veiled the voice was in which Bertram, breaking the pause, said--
"Strange, or perhaps less strange than highly gratifying, that at least
for once I find, this kindling effect of Love's divine flash confirmed
in reality, of which the poets of all times and in all climes have sung
in praise. I am almost ashamed to confess that although I do not think
I am a hopelessly prosaic individual, I have always thought this but a
fond and fair dream."
"And it is a dream," Kurt made answer, "inasmuch as things real are
most curiously shifted and changed in it, and as one can give scarcely
a clearer account than a somnambulist, of what occurs and of what one
does one's self. I do not remember how I got home that night; I have no
idea whether it was several days after, or really on the day following,
that, during a picnic in the country, I was strolling apart from the
rest by her side through a leafy grove. The light of the dying sun was
trembling among the trees, and a few subdued notes of birds' song were
heard. Silence was all around; and in silence we passed on, side by
side. Sometimes she stooped to gather a flower for the tiny bunch which
she held in her hand, and once, as she stooped again, and I wished to
anticipate her, our hands touched; and, startled, we both looked up,
looked into each other's eyes, and the flowers dropped from her hands,
and--well, it was just a dream, a brief and blissful dream. Who can
tell the story of a dream?"
The young man had risen and gone to the window. Bertram kept his seat,
leaning his head on his hands. When Kurt turned back to the table, he
thought that the noble countenance which now looked up with a very
sweet smile was paler than before.
"Pardon me," he said, "but I think I see that you are in need of rest;
let me pause here. You know what happened next."
"Yes, but not quite how it happened," said Bertram in reply. "Please
sit down by my side again, unless you are tired yourself. As for me, I
am a regular old night-owl. How it happened, yes--how did Erna come to
hear of your connection with the Princess? Some malevolent traitor must
have been at work there."
"Would that it had been the case!" answered Kurt. "A traitor Erna's
clear eyes would have speedily recognised as such. But the one who told
her of it was a dear friend of my own, a fellow-officer, who in the
course of a visit to our former garrison--our own regiment had
meanwhile been transferred to Magdeburg--made Erna's acquaintance,
without having the slightest conception of our relations. And as the
conversation chanced to turn upon me, he babbled, under a promise of
discretion, of the secret; and probably adorned and amplified matters,
so as to let the enormous stroke of good luck which was supposed to be
in store for me appear in its greatest splendour. As he was known to be
on very intimate terms with me, as I had myself given him an
introduction to the von Palms, and specially commended him to Erna, she
had to believe that his romantic story was sheer truth; nay, the awful
thought came to her that I had myself authorised my friend to make
these communications, or, if this had been quite too infamous, she
assumed at least that he had been commissioned by me to prepare her,
and had solely blundered over his commission, so that I was personally
responsible, if not for the manner, certainly for the matter. We
corresponded, and with the connivance of Agatha, under cover of a
correspondence of hers with an old school-friend in my present
garrison; but Erna's next letter contained nothing but the question
whether it was true that I had some relations or other with the
Princess? The question thus put, I could not but answer in the
affirmative, begging her at the same time, in connection with the
subject, not to believe in what any one, except myself, might say. My
request came somewhat late, but still did not fail to have its effect
upon Erna's heart, which had assuredly opened with the greatest
reluctance to the terrible suspicion, and which was now jubilant at
being freed from it. She teased my friend about his fertile fancy which
invented stories devoid of a particle of foundation, as she had since
learned from a trustworthy source. Thus challenged, and piqued at being
declared undeserving of credit, my friend stated that he had the
knowledge, if not at first, at least at second hand, for his authority
was my own Colonel, whose testimony Erna would surely not reject. Again
he begged her to be discreet, but hinted pretty plainly that other
fellow-officers were aware of it too, and had likewise learned it from
the Colonel. And now for Erna the doubts which she thought she had
vanquished turned to despair. She knew through me the very intimate
terms on which Herr von Waldor and I stood, and indeed many a time I
had called him to her my best and kindest friend, my protector and
second father. Erna wrote another question. Did Herr von Waldor know my
relations to the Princess? And again I had to answer in the
affirmative, without being able to mention the suspicion which now--and
now for the first time--rose within me, that Herr von Waldor might have
purposely misrepresented those relations in his own interest--you know
why. What need to continue to describe the wretched position in which I
now was placed; how the net was tightened more closely and more fatally
round me, so that I at last had given up all hope of ever being freed
from it; all the more because Erna--as you heard yourself--repelled
with such passionate indignation your mediation, which I was about to
claim. I must confess, I cannot even guess why."
The dark eyes of the young man were raised inquiringly to Bertram, who
did not at once reply to the questioning look. He had turned aside a
little, and was busied refilling the glasses; he did not seem to notice
that he was filling the second to overflowing, and that the wine was
saturating the table-cloth.
"Dear me," he said, presently, "I beg your pardon; I was--thinking.
Why, did you ask? Well, we settled already that, according to all
experience, girls are not fond of confiding to their fathers the
secrets of their hearts. They dread paternal jealousies, a paternal
prejudice against the one who ventures to claim the little hand, which,
as a matter of course, is far too precious even for the best of the
best. But fear not! Erna shall find in me a friend, protector, and
counsellor, who hopes to give the proof that one may love like a father
without being blinded by a father's prejudices, and, above all, one who
means more honestly by her than, I am sorry to say, Herr von Waldor
does by you."
A dark shadow flitted over the young man's open countenance.
"I thank you," he said very gently, "I thank you from the bottom of my
heart for so much goodness, and to deserve it will be the fairest task
of my life. But pray do not condemn Herr von Waldor. It is impossible
to measure him by the common standard. Contempt of death and greed of
life, princely generosity and petty egotism, tenderest love and
bitterest hatred--all these things lie side by side in his soul, and
cross and re-cross each other in such a way that even to me (and I
think I know him better than any one else) it is a perfect enigma. But
if at times I cannot solve it all, if in this present case I cannot but
see that he is willing--I must not say to sacrifice, but to stake--me
and my happiness in the hope of gaining his own great stakes, then I
need only remember what he has been to the orphaned boy, after he had
carried my father, fatally wounded, upon his own shoulders out of the
bloody struggle around the fortifications of Dueppel; how he, of all men
the most impatient, has watched over me with a mother's loving patience
when I have been ill; how he resumed his studies in order to be able to
supervise and guide mine; how he paid my expenses when I was a cadet;
how he equipped and helped the ensign, the young officer; how he
pressed upon the poor young man of _bourgeois_ birth abundant help to
enable him to hold his own in an expensive and aristocratic regiment;
and how he thundered in his wrath when I refused to accept it any
longer, as I had learned that he had himself to borrow the needful
money at usurer's interest. Surely you will admit that one so deeply
indebted to Herr von Waldor as I am, has lost the right, nay, more, the
ability to struggle and resist, even if the hand which has done so much
in the way of kindness weighs heavily, terribly so, upon him."
"I think I can follow you in your feelings," replied Bertram, "although
Waldor is by no means thereby excused in my eyes; on the contrary, I
adhere firmly to the Scriptural saying, that the right hand should not
know what the left does; and I hold that he who claims gratitude has
already his reward. Moreover, was the sacrifice really requisite, which
Waldor expected from you, when he put you into this ominous position?
From a moral point of view it is a matter of indifference; but I should
like, if possible, to be enlightened on this point, which I have not
hitherto understood."
"How things stand exactly," Kurt replied, "I can hardly say myself. I
assume that the marriage-contract of the Princess contains certain
conditions which deprive her of the greater part of her present
fortune, if she contracts a new matrimonial alliance; or rather, would
seem to deprive her, for a judicial interpretation of this dubious
point is to be the result of the law-suit which is now reaching its
final stage. Further, it may be assumed that the view of the Princess
herself is the only correct one by all the laws of sound logic; but she
fears--whether rightly or wrongly I know not--that the decision will be
adverse to her if the authorities learn that her choice has fallen upon
an alien."
"But you are an alien, too," objected Bertram.
Kurt shrugged his shoulders.
"An obscure lieutenant, not of noble birth, and Princess Volinzov! No
one need imagine that they would have taken this _au serieux_, any more
than a dozen other _liaisons_...."
He paused abruptly, blushing to the very roots of his hair.
"For shame!" he cried, "that was basely said. Let others sit in
judgment upon the poor victim of a most abominable bad education and of
most wretched circumstances. I dare not, I dare not feel for her aught,
but admiration and gratitude, and renewed gratitude, for I know and
have experienced in my own person that, through all the badness and
baseness that have been crowding around her from her childhood, she has
preserved the capacity for a great and heroic love, a love of which we
men are scarcely ever, and of which among women only the best and
noblest are, capable."
Only at the last words Kurt had again ventured to look up, and he
swiftly lowered his eyes again. Bertram's great eyes shone in wondrous
radiance, and a curious smile, half melancholy, half ironical, was
hovering about his lips, as he slowly answered--
"To be sure! you are quite right. Only the noblest women! We men are
egotistical scoundrels; that is our lordly privilege; and he who
resigns it, deserves to be crucified with malefactors on either side."
He had risen and was now pacing up and down the room; then he stepped
to the open window. Kurt had kept his seat, thinking that Bertram would
turn to him again. But he did not. The young man grew embarrassed.
Reverence forbade him to disturb the dreamer. Never before had Kurt met
one whose presence had thus thrilled him as with a breath of highest,
purest vitality. And to this consciousness, which seemed to lift him
out of and above himself, was joined the painful feeling which
humiliated him in his own sight: that he had but just now been petty
enough to say a bitter word about the woman of whom he yet knew, that
she had come here to bring the greatest of all sacrifices that a loving
heart can bring. And he, Bertram, knew this too; for Alexandra had said
to Kurt: I have confessed all to Bertram! What a painful discord his
own evil words must have been in the pure and high-souled Bertram's
ear! And now Bertram, who had in all good faith shown him so much
sympathy, had found him ungrateful, had turned from him, now and for
ever.
He would, he must go!
But invisible fetters seemed to chain him to the spot; and as he sat
there, angry with himself, in gloomy thought, it was no longer only the
heavy, weary limbs that refused to obey him. His thoughts, too, flitted
and wandered beyond his control. Something like a dense veil sunk upon
his eyelids, and he saw surrounding objects but momentarily,
indistinctly; the lighted candles upon the table seemed to be far-off
bivouac fires, then they turned to dim and distant stars, then were
lost in night and darkness.
Bertram had carried the candles to the writing-table, and shadows now
rested upon the weary sleeper. Then he returned to the sofa and spread
a coverlet over him.
"Poor lad! I saw how you were struggling against your sleepiness. The
examination was a long one. But I could not spare you, and you have
done well!"
He stood gazing upon him.
"And, like this, his head will rest by the side of hers--on one
pillow!"
He drew his hand over his eyes, stepped noiselessly back to the
writing-table, and presently his pen was gliding lightly and gently
over the paper.
"My dear child,--I may henceforth with good right call you so, since
Fate gives me one opportunity after another, to prove myself a good,
and, I hope, also a thoughtful, father to you. But an hour ago I had to
calm and comfort my beloved child, and yet dared not give her true
comfort, dared not express my full and firm conviction that a good,
upright heart always makes choice of the right thing at once. For good
and upright as my dear child's heart is, yet it is a very defiant heart
too, and would rather be miserable in its own way, than happy and
blessed in other people's way; and it would have steeled itself against
my persuasion and against my testimony, and would again and again have
reverted to this: You do not know him! But now I say to you: I do know
him; and you must accept my testimony as that of a man of great
experience and knowledge of the human heart, of a man whose eyes--sharp
as human eyes go--love for you and care for your welfare have filled
with divine perspicuity. I know him now, after one hour spent here in
my room in confidential conversation, as though I had known him from
childhood, stalwart young man as he is; and even as I sit writing this,
he is sleeping, under my watchful care, the sweet sleep of exhausted
youthful vigour, notwithstanding his painful anxieties and the bitter
sorrow of his heart. I have been watching him in his sleep. Sleep is a
terrible betrayer of narrow minds and feeble hearts. Here there is
nothing to betray, and sleep can but put its soft yet sure seal upon
the beauteous image of a great and noble soul. And even as this soul,
helpless and resistless as it were, is in my keeping, receive it, loved
one, from my hands, as a great and glorious gift of the gods on high,
who have deemed me worthy to be their envoy and the executor of their
sacred decision.
"I promised you not to leave as long as you had need of me. You need me
no longer, and I shall leave in the morning without bidding you
farewell. From your mother, too, I shall take leave in writing; she
knows my weakness for vanishing noiselessly from society. It is a long
journey that lies before me, and we shall not soon meet again.
Separation is death for a time, and time, again, is nought but a tiny
speck, and its complement is eternity. A noble human being should plan
his thoughts and action not in reference to the former, but the latter.
Let, therefore, what I now say to you, for the brief space wherein we
shall not behold one another, be said for evermore: Fare thee well,
_Lebe wohl!_ that is, live according to the bidding of your heart, as
you hear it when you listen to it in secret silence and reverence!
Howsoever this our life may be shaped, it is no longer our concern, but
that of the powers on high, over whom we have no influence, and
therefore it matters nothing to us. Once more then: _Lebe wohl!_
"My kindliest greetings to sweet Agatha! She is your true friend. I
always felt that she would counsel nothing that I would not counsel
myself.
"And another is your friend, too, though you do not think her to be
one. You know I am speaking of the Princess. She also will leave your
house to-morrow, not without making an attempt to prove to you that she
is your friend. Be good to her for my sake; in that case I feel
convinced that you will part from her with kind and grateful feelings,
and that she herself will have inspired them. Whatever she may say to
you, I guarantee its truth. Hers is one of those natures that may go
astray, but that can never be untrue.
"Should you have a message to send me, send if through your father,
whom I shall see in W---- tomorrow. Should I have anything else to say
to you, I will send my message through Kurt, whom also I shall meet
again to-morrow.
"And now remember your promise to be my good and obedient child; and
again, and for the last time: _Lebe wohl!_"
He had put the letter into an envelope, and now turned in his chair,
looking towards the sofa. His young guest was still lying in the same
position, only his head had fallen back a little. Perhaps deeper
shadows were now falling on the forehead and on the closed, eyes,
whilst chin and lips stood out in brighter light and bolder relief;
anyhow, the features that appeared so soft awhile ago seemed sharper,
and the expression of almost feminine gentleness was turned to one of
manly resolution, nay, of angry indignation.
"Thus Simon Peter may have contracted his brows, thus his lips may have
quivered that night! And yet he could sleep, although he knew what was
to happen. Even as this one, knowing, yet sleepeth!"
Again he stood by the open window, leaning against it.
A dead silence; only at times the night wind came rushing past, and
there was rustling and roaring among trees and shrubs. In the village,
veiled in mist, a dim red light gleamed faintly here and there. At
times confused sounds, as of far-off horses' tramp and the measured
step of soldiers on the march, with clashing of arms. Then deep, dead
silence again, and then, piercing the deep silence, the half-smothered
crow of a cock. Over the edge of yonder mountains the moon--almost at
the full--hung, bloody-red, in the vapour which came steaming up from
the woods.
"Did you look so mournfully up to it that night? And had all the
heavenly stars to expire for Him too, that He might remember the heaven
within His heart?
"Alas! He knew that He was dying for the world. I humbly claim but to
die for her,--she is my world.
"One cannot choose one's own Gethsemane. One must take it as it comes,
whether to the sound of the last trump on the Day of Judgment, ringing
through the hearts of all the generations of men, or in deep and
world-forgotten loneliness and secrecy, whither human eye shall never
penetrate, any more than it penetrates into the nethermost depths of
the sea.
"And this is my silent Gethsemane!"
The moon had sunk behind the hills, and the cool morning breeze came
floating along. Bertram was about to close the window when he heard
from afar a short, sharp sound, soon succeeded by other similar sounds,
succeeding each other so swiftly that the echo could clearly continue
the scattered noises and reverberate them as thunder. And now shrill,
long-drawn trumpet-blasts were heard, mingling with the beat of the
drum.
Bertram quickly turned to the sleeper, who was not, for his sake, to
neglect his military duties. But already Kurt had staggered up from his
sofa-corner, his eyes wide open, though still veiled by slumber, and
his arms stretched out, clutching the air, as though in search of some
weapon.
"I--I--not you! I will fight him! Give me the pistol!"
Bertram touched his shoulder.
"They are sounding the assembly in the village!"
"Oh! I thought ..."
He brushed his hand across his eyes.
"I have been asleep! Pardon me. How good you are! You have been
watching for me. Is it long since ...?" and he pointed to the window.
"Not half a minute."
"Then I am in good time!"
He had already fastened his sword, and seized his helmet.
"Excuse my hurry. You know ..."
"No excuses! A matter of course. _Au revoir_."
He held out his hand to the young man, in whose fine features, now full
of life again, he noticed a strange quiver. Kurt evidently wanted to
say something, and could not hit upon the right word. So he only
pressed Bertram's hand vigorously.
"Well, _au revoir!_"
He hurried away. Bertram stood gazing at the door through which the
slender young figure had vanished.
"Heaven be thanked! It is at least no disgrace to yield to him. He is
thoroughly sound and sweet,--mind and body alike!"