Four weeks had passed since the arrival of the strangers at the inn at
Tausens; every day, favoured by the clear summer skies, they had made
delightful excursions among the mountains, and still no one talked of
leaving; Uncle Balthasar indeed, instigated thereto by Aunt Minni, who,
in spite of her comfortable quarters, missed the luxuries of the villa
in K----, had once or twice asked his niece how long she intended to
stay at Tausens, but he had received no decided answer. The kindly old
man, seeing how his pet was enjoying herself, would have been the last
to wish to cut short her enjoyment, even had he not been so thoroughly
at his ease as he was. For his own part he declared he never had been
so much entertained as in the agreeable society in which he now found
himself. Every evening the party at the inn was joined by the cousins
from the castle, and by the judge, the forester, and the collector from
the village, and Uncle Balthasar was in his glory. Also he spent as
much time as he could with 'dear Guido,' only regretting that his
favourite was not duly appreciated by the rest of the party. He gladly
accompanied him upon his walks from time to time, never dreaming that
the former dragoon's only reason for desiring his society was the hope
that he entertained of gaining some certainty as to his future
prospects from the old man's artless talk of Eva and her relations with
Delmar and Leo.
In fact, poor Uncle Balthasar was deeply grieved that Delmar, Herwarth,
and Leo should treat Bertram with such haughty reserve, and that Eva
did not comport herself towards her lover as a girl should, but showed
a decided preference for the strangers. The kindly soul therefore took
care that Bertram should always have a place at the breakfast-table
which made it possible for him to avoid all necessity of speaking with
Delmar or Herwarth.
Such a seat Uncle Balthasar had provided, between himself and Aunt
Minni, for his 'dear Guido' on a certain clear, rather cool morning in
August, when the party had assembled upon the balcony at the Post. It
was rather late, nearly nine o'clock; there was to be no long walk
to-day, because the young people had made so distant an excursion the
day before. Leo and Hilda had not come down from the castle, but had
invited Eva and Delmar, with Herwarth and his betrothed, to spend the
day with them in the castle garden and in seeing all that there was of
interest within the old walls.
Conversation did not flow as easily as usual this morning. Herwarth and
Aline talked, it is true, but Delmar sat gazing dreamily abroad over
the valley, and Eva rarely spoke.
Paul had lately lost much of his former vivacity; he sometimes had no
power to rouse himself and conquer his depression, and would sink into
a revery, from which he awakened only when he observed Hilda regarding
him with a look of trouble on her lovely face. Then perhaps for a while
he would be as merry as ever, although this would not last long. He
would leave the rest, lagging behind upon some side-path if they were
walking, or absenting himself upon some slight pretext from the party
on the balcony.
After a month of hard struggle Paul at last confronted a crisis in his
fate. The goal which he lived to attain was reached. Between Leo and
Eva there was now only the promise given by the latter to Bertram. The
heart of each was laid bare to the other. It was in Paul's power to
remove the obstacle that separated the lovers. Why did he hesitate to
pronounce the word that would avail to do so? He excused this to
himself by urging that he must first keep the promise given to Leo,
whereby he was pledged to learn all that could be known of his past
from Dr. Putzer. He did not confess even to himself that he dreaded
keeping this promise; that he shuddered when he received from Dr.
Atzinger, who was in constant attendance upon the sick man, daily
intelligence of the slow improvement in his patient's condition; that
his heart had throbbed fast when he heard that Putzer would soon be in
complete possession of his faculties and able to receive Delmar's
visit; and that on this very morning, as he sat silent at the
breakfast-table, he was lost in gloomy reflection because Dr. Atzinger
had reported on the previous day that he hoped on the ensuing morning
to allow Delmar the long-talked-of interview with the sick man.
This visit Delmar was now anticipating with harrowing anxiety. In the
sleepless night he had passed he had reviewed in detail every
circumstance of the last few weeks. Four weeks since death would have
been welcome to him, in view of the horrible certainty that Hilda was
legally his sister, although bound to him by no natural tie; all that
had given life an interest to him then had been the hope of insuring
his friend's happiness; he thought this hope now upon the point of
fulfilment, and yet a possible death seemed to him far from welcome
now.
What had produced this change in the last month? Was his conviction
that Hilda was legally his half-sister shaken? No, on the contrary it
had been confirmed; after his conversation with Leo he had written to a
prominent lawyer in K----, instructing him to make every possible
inquiry as to Herr Delmar's place of abode and family circumstances
before he had come to reside in K----; placing at his disposal the
means for making these investigations thorough at any cost. The result
had been such as to remove all doubt in Paul's mind, had any such
existed, as to his relationship with Hilda.
The lawyer had established the fact that Paul Delmar, the son of Herr
Delmar, had died a few days after his mother,--there were official
records of this,--and also that Herr Delmar had established himself
in K---- shortly after leaving his native place. He had brought to
K---- with him a child, whose certificate of birth and baptism as his
son Paul had been shown to the proper authorities. Of course, as the
lawyer wrote, the fact that Herr Delmar had produced an adopted son as
his own could be proved beyond a doubt; but this would never be done
unless by Herr Paul Delmar's desire.
After this intelligence from his lawyer, Paul needed no confirmation
from Dr. Putzer of his relation to Herr von Heydeck, but nevertheless
he was determined to obtain it. Towards ten o'clock Dr. Atzinger made
his appearance, and announced that his patient had exceeded his
expectations by himself earnestly entreating that Herr Delmar would
visit him.
When Paul heard this he sprang up from the breakfast-table and would
have hurried away, when suddenly his glance fell upon Bertram, who was
observing him narrowly. The thought instantly occurred to him that
after this interview with Dr. Putzer he might not be able to endure
another twenty-four hours in the society of his friends. Therefore
before seeing the sick man Eva must be released from her bondage.
He stood reflecting for a moment, and then turning to Herwarth, Aline,
and Eva, he begged them not to delay their visit to the castle upon his
account; he should in all probability shortly follow them, although he
might be detained longer than he anticipated by Dr. Putzer. Eva's offer
to wait for him he decidedly refused to accept; and only when they had
all promised to set off without him did he turn to Bertram, saying,
"Before I see Dr. Putzer, Herr von Bertram, you will perhaps grant me
the pleasure of fifteen minutes' conversation with you. Shall we walk?"
Certainly no invitation could have been more suavely and courteously
expressed, and yet Bertram's face grew ashy pale, and his heart sank
within him as he bowed and stammered a few words of assent to Delmar's
proposal.
As soon as Paul had requested Dr. Atzinger to await him at Dr.
Putzer's, he left the balcony and led the way, Bertram following,
to the village street, where first he moderated his pace, that the
ex-lieutenant might walk beside him.
"Do you know, Herr von Bertram, why I have thus requested your
company?" he began.
"Indeed--Herr Delmar--I cannot conceive----"
A look of contempt from Delmar greeted these stammered words of denial.
"Your embarrassment assures me that you are perfectly aware of what I
wish to discuss," Paul continued. "I will therefore come to the point
at once. Your unnatural relations with Fraeulein Eva Schommer must cease
this very day,--this very hour!"
"Herr Delmar----"
"Do not interrupt me. Experience must have taught you that when I speak
I mean what I say. For the last four weeks I have watched Fraeulein
Schommer narrowly; there is no need to tell you that your betrothed
abhors you, that she loves my friend, Leo von Heydeck, with all her
soul, and that nothing but her inexorable sense of right withholds her
from retracting the promise by which she bound herself to you. You know
all this as well as I do. If you were a man of honour, such knowledge
would suffice to induce you voluntarily to renounce----"
"Herr Delmar, you insult me! Remember your promise!"
"I promised you nothing, and I cannot conceive how the mention of a
fact of which you are perfectly cognizant can insult you; but we will
not quarrel about words. The fact is that you do not voluntarily
dissolve an engagement which you never should have contracted, and that
you thus force me to make use of the power over you which I possess.
Listen then to a brief declaration of my intentions. Either you will,
in order to preserve at least the semblance of honour, make known to
Fraeulein Schommer in a letter that you release her from her promise,
that you voluntarily dissolve the engagement between you, after which
you will instantly leave Tausens, so that all further explanation may
be impossible, or Fraeulein Schommer shall learn from me what reasons
moved you to make your public apology to Leo von Heydeck, and I will
present in K----, to be cashed, a certain forged check.
"If you do as I require I am ready to hand over to you a sum of five
thousand thalers as soon as your letter is sent to Fraeulein Schommer.
If you refuse, you will be expelled this very day from our circle,
where there is really no room for a detected forger. Make your choice!"
Guido trembled with futile rage while Delmar went on speaking with calm
decision. Had he only been alone with his foe, he would have throttled
him. But they were walking along the village street, the observed of
many eyes. Bertram knew that he was in his enemy's power, and he knew
Delmar, and that his was no vain threat. He dared not make any
resistance; he only hoped to gain time. He thought of the ebony casket,
and of Nanette. If Delmar would only grant him a little time, a few
days, he might bring the maid over to assist in his plans, now that she
was daily yielding more and more to his influence. Therefore he
suppressed all expression of anger; nothing could be wrung from this
man by opposition; submission and entreaty must be tried.
"You are fearfully hard upon me, Herr Delmar," he said, with feigned
humility. "Was it magnanimous to leave me so long in torment between
fear and hope? I implore you to give me a few days in which to prepare
myself for the step you demand of me. I will speak with my betrothed,
and will entreat her to tell me frankly whether indeed she cannot look
for happiness in a life spent by my side. And if, as I fear she will,
she tells me that she cannot, that she can only give me her hand
without her heart, and that her promise alone binds her to me, then I
can fulfil your desire honourably, Herr Delmar. Why, after keeping me
waiting for weeks without pronouncing judgment against me, do you
suddenly insist upon handing me over to disgrace? Only give me a few
days' respite, and I promise to do your bidding."
Paul's eyes gloomily sought the ground. A word of entreaty always had
great weight with him; it was only where he met with resistance that he
was hard. True humility and docility were sure to disarm him. Earnestly
as he wished that Leo's fate should be decided, much as he desired to
be at liberty to do as he pleased, it is more than probable that he
would have yielded to Bertram's entreaty if a suspicion had not
suddenly dawned upon him that the man meant to play him false. Why
should he desire an interview with Eva? Did he hope to induce the
wealthy heiress to buy her freedom from him? Such a scheme might well
be attributed to the scoundrel, and Paul was convinced that Eva would
be ready to sacrifice her entire fortune if by so doing the detested
tie might be severed. The sudden suspicion steeled him against
Bertram's entreaty, and he replied, "Not a day, not an hour, will I
give you; you must decide upon the spot!"
One look into Delmar's calm, resolute face convinced Bertram that he
had no respite, however short, to expect; he still might perhaps
succeed in moving him in another respect, and with a profound sigh he
continued: "You are terribly severe and cruel with me, Herr Delmar. How
have I deserved such scant mercy at your hands? In a miserable moment
of my life, a prey to despair, I was led to invoke destruction upon my
head by that stroke of the pen. I was half frantic. I had to choose
between disgrace and death by my own hand. Love of life conquered, and
I forged that signature, an act which I have repented bitterly ever
since. You then saved me from merited disgrace, for which I was
inexpressibly grateful to you. I felt the wrong I had done you in
handing you the forged check, and I was never without a sense of
devotion to you as my saviour from dishonour. And yet you are now the
one to invoke disgrace upon my head. Remember how you have punished me
already. You forced me to public dishonour among my comrades, to resign
from the army, to destroy all my hopes in life, and now you thrust me
into the abyss from which a marriage with Eva would save me.
"You are enormously wealthy, and you know nothing of the misery of
poverty; therefore you thrust me forth into the world with a paltry
pittance of five thousand thalers. You offer me five thousand thalers
as indemnification for what you take from me! Can five thousand thalers
begin life afresh for me and worthily support the name I bear? Can I
even live for a few short years upon such a sum? Be magnanimous, Herr
Delmar, and let me have, not as a gift but as a loan, a sum sufficient
to buy an estate upon the income of which I can live as a landed
proprietor, and in time repay you. You will not miss it, and I shall be
forever grateful to you."
With inexpressible contempt Paul regarded the speaker who thus in his
servile entreaty for money laid bare all the meanness of his sordid
soul. He would gladly have paid any sum to secure Leo's happiness, but
to supply this aristocratic beggar with the means for a life of
dissipation would in his estimation be a sin against humanity. Utterly
disgusted, he turned away; he would have nothing more to do with the
fellow. "Not a word more, Herr von Bertram!" he exclaimed, harshly;
"you have heard my offer, which I now almost regret having made; you
must now decide whether to accept or to reject it. You would squander
fifty thousand thalers as quickly as five thousand at the gaming-table.
I know that I was wrong in offering you money. But I did so, and will
stand by my word, if you declare yourself ready this minute to do as I
command you. The time which I was free to devote to you is past. I must
have a simple 'yes' or 'no'! Answer me!"
"I implore you, Herr Delmar----"
"'Yes' or 'no'! Not another word! If you do not reply, I shall
understand it as 'no,' and you must abide by the consequences."
Not yet could Bertram bring himself to utter the decisive 'yes.' He
still hesitated, but Paul left him no time for further reflection. When
Bertram paused he turned from him with contempt, and would have
returned to the inn. His firmness conquered.
Bertram saw that all would be lost, and the promised five thousand
thalers besides, if he did not instantly submit. He hastened after
Delmar. "Yes, Herr Delmar!" he exclaimed, "I submit to your wishes; I
confide in your magnanimity!"
"You have made prudent use of the last moment," Paul rejoined coldly;
"follow me to my room."
Again he led the way, Bertram following him. At the door of the inn
they met Aline, Eva, and Herwarth about to start for the castle. "I
will soon join you," Paul said, as he passed them. Bertram never lifted
his eyes from the ground, and they did not appear to notice him.
Arrived in his room, Delmar directed Bertram to his writing-table. "Sit
there," he said; "take a sheet of paper, and write. I will dictate to
you a letter that shall serve as the last chapter of the miserable
romance of your betrothal. You shall extricate yourself from this
wretched business as a man of honour; at least you shall appear such in
Fraeulein Schommer's eyes. It is of course more than you deserve, and is
probably great folly on my part; it is not done for your sake, but
because I owe some reparation to Fraeulein Schommer for a former unjust
estimate of her, and I should like to save her from the humiliating
conviction that she has been betrothed to so utter a scoundrel as
yourself. Therefore I will surround your brow with the halo of
high-souled renunciation. Write!"
Bertram bit his lips, not daring to vent the rage that was consuming
him. Without a word of reply he took up a pen, and wrote down the words
which Delmar, standing behind him, dictated over his shoulder.
"Four terrible, agonizing weeks have I passed, weeks in which each day
was torture to me. With every miserable hour I have become more and
more clearly convinced that you, dearest Eva, have accorded me a right
to remain near you as your betrothed only in consequence of a promise
too hastily given. I have seen that your heart belongs to another, and
that it never can be mine.
"I do not blame you; I only bewail the ill fortune that shatters all my
life's fairest hopes. I should be indeed lost to all sense of honour if
I attempted to hold you, my beloved Eva, to a promise given me when you
were ignorant of your own heart. You, at least, shall not be unhappy. I
give back to you the faith which your inexorable sense of rectitude
forbids you to recall. I voluntarily release you from your engagement.
"I shall not, I cannot, see you again. It is with the deepest pain that
I leave you, but there is some consolation for me in the thought that
you will not think of me with hatred, but will accord me some measure
of friendly remembrance in the knowledge that I have sacrificed my
happiness to yours.
"Guido von Bertram."
The letter was written. Paul took it, and read it aloud, laughing
bitterly as he finished it. "Excellent!" he said; "an epistle which
might worthily find a place in any romance, and which is certainly not
dear at five thousand thalers. Uncle Balthasar may still speak with
genuine emotion of his 'dear Guido;' the fair Eva may think kindly of
the noble self-renunciation that inspired the letter, and perhaps
privately repent that she did the writer such injustice. Even Leo will
shake his head, unable to conceive how such words could have been
written by him who penned them. Seal it with your signet-ring, and I
myself will deliver it to Fraeulein Schommer."
Bertram obeyed in silence. He sealed the letter and gave it to Delmar,
who in return took from his pocket-book five thousand thalers in large
notes, which he handed to the ex-lieutenant, saying, "Our business is
now concluded, Herr von Bertram. I leave you, never to see you again. I
myself will order a carriage for you from the postmaster. It will be at
the door in five minutes; just in time for you to catch the midday
train from the railway-station. In a quarter of an hour you will have
left Tausens. Only upon this understanding; do I give you this money. I
shall reclaim it if I find you still here when I return from a visit I
am about to make in the village. And if you should dare to attempt to
obtain an interview with Fraeulein Schommer, I shall ruthlessly use
against you the forged check in my possession. Make haste with the
packing of your portmanteau; you have but a quarter of an hour's time
at the most."
Delmar expected no answer, and received none. Bertram swept up the pile
of notes, and with a last look of hatred as his only farewell to Paul,
hurried away to his room, where he locked himself in, while Delmar
quietly went down-stairs and ordered Hansel to have a conveyance
brought to the door for Herr von Bertram, who wished to catch the
midday train. After which he proceeded to pay his visit to Dr. Putzer.
When Bertram found himself alone in his room, he no longer restrained
the expression of the rage that possessed him. Muttering curses upon
the failure of his schemes, he paced the floor like some caged wild
beast. All was over! He was powerless in the grasp of his deadly foe;
thrust forth thus into the world with a paltry pittance of five
thousand thalers to atone for the millions he had lost.
How gladly he would have murdered his pitiless, inexorable enemy! But
even in the midst of his paroxysm of anger he shuddered at the thought
of Delmar's cold, quiet manner, which always had power to overawe his
coward will.
His fate was decided; he must submit. The ebony casket again recurred
to him. Just then there was a rustle in the next room. Eva and Aline
had gone to the castle. Nanette must be there alone. Hitherto he had
not thought of making her his accomplice in the theft; this now
occurred to him. Only with her aid could he hope to make the coveted
prize his own.
But if he did thus gain possession of it, would not suspicion instantly
fall upon him? Eva would miss her treasure as soon as she returned from
the castle, and Delmar would not leave her long in doubt as to who had
stolen it. He pondered the matter. Eva could not possibly return from
the castle before two a clock; she was to dine at three at the inn. But
by two he might be far away. If he took the train to Toblach, and then
drove to Schleuderbach, he could reach the Italian frontier before even
a telegraphic message could be despatched in search of him, although
Delmar should immediately institute a pursuit of the fugitive. Once
across the frontier he would surely be able to elude all discovery.
What would Eva say when she found her precious casket missing and
divined who had taken it? As he thought of the letter he had just
written, and the contrast it formed to the act he contemplated, he
laughed bitterly. But his time was short, every minute was precious, he
dared delay no longer. He knocked cautiously at the door leading to the
next room. The bolt was withdrawn, and Nanette opened it. She was
received by him with a tender embrace. "My little darling," he said,
"how fortunate I am in seeing you once more before I leave!"
The girl looked at him with terrified surprise. "What do you mean, Herr
von Bertram? You are going away? How? Where?"
"I will tell you, my pet, and you only. I have just received
intelligence that a suit has been instituted against me in K---- for
leaving there without leave of absence from my superior officer. I am
to be arrested here to-day and taken back a prisoner to K----. I must
fly or I am lost; in a quarter of an hour I must leave Tausens."
"What will become of Fraeulein Schommer?"
"Do not mention her. I am glad to be rid of her even in this way. I
hate her, but it breaks my heart to leave you. Oh, Nanette, if you
really cared for me you would leave all and come with me! You should be
my darling little wife, with nothing to do but enjoy yourself all day
long!"
Nanette listened, speechless with rapture. Here was a proposal she had
never ventured to hope for! A great gentleman, and the betrothed
besides of her hated mistress, asked her to fly with him and be his
wife,--his real wife,--a lady of rank! Her head grew giddy at the
thought. She could hardly believe her ears.
But Bertram went on pouring forth his insidious protestations and
entreaties until she could doubt no longer. And when he pointed to the
ebony casket and said that it contained what would give them a
careless, happy life in Italy, she made no resistance to his taking it
from the table where it stood, and bewildered and submissive only asked
whether they should not be found out. He soothed her with the assurance
that they should both be far beyond the Italian frontier before the
absence of the casket was detected or any pursuit thought of.
Before many minutes were past Bertram had won the girl over to his
purpose; she consented to accompany him in his flight, she became his
accomplice. By his directions she locked on the inside the door leading
from Eva's room to the passage, and then followed her grand gentleman,
who carried the casket, into his room where he locked the door of
communication and put the key in his pocket.
Time was precious, and Bertram made haste to thrust the casket, which
must be hidden from sight while he was leaving the inn, into his
portmanteau. Here however he encountered an unexpected difficulty. On
each side of the box was a large ornamented gilt handle, by which it
had usually been lifted. These handles made the box too large for the
interior of his portmanteau. As Bertram tried in vain to pack away the
casket so that the small trunk would close, he muttered an oath. He
could not possibly allow the box, which the postmaster and the inn
servants knew to be Eva's property, to be seen in his possession, and
there was no way of concealing it except by packing it into the
portmanteau, which was too small for it. He tried to bend one of the
metal handles, and as he did so it broke off in his hand. "So best!" he
said, throwing it aside, and then wrenching off the other, which he
also threw on the floor. The casket now fitted perfectly inside the
portmanteau, filling it however so completely that Bertram was forced
to leave most of his clothes behind him.
In a few minutes the portmanteau was locked, and Bertram himself
carried it down to the conveyance which was awaiting him at the
inn-door. The postmaster stood by it, cap in hand, expressing sorrow
that the gentleman was about to leave him. His surprise was great when
Nanette suddenly made her appearance in her bonnet and shawl and took
her seat beside Herr von Bertram in the carriage.
"I will take this opportunity of driving to town," she said, observing
honest Hansel's amazement. "I have several commissions to execute for
my mistress, and I will come back towards evening in the carriage.
Adieu, Herr Postmaster!"
"Drive on!" cried Bertram. "I must catch the midday train!" The driver
cracked his whip, and the horses started at a rapid pace.
Hansel looked after the carriage as long as it was in sight, and then
turned into the inn with a wise shake of his head. This sudden
departure of the young nobleman, and so strangely accompanied too, did
not seem to him just what it should be. But these great people from the
city certainly did have many queer ways, and as long as Herr Delmar had
ordered the carriage everything must be right, and thus Hansel forced
himself to think.
He went up-stairs to see that Herr von Bertram had forgotten nothing in
his room, and to his surprise found the door locked. This was
vexatious. The Herr must have locked it absently and put the key into
his pocket. Ten to one he would forget to give it to the driver when
they reached the railway-station.
Hansel went grumbling and fetched his master-key, which opened all the
bedrooms in the house; but when he entered Bertram's apartment he found
it in a condition which greatly increased his misgivings with regard to
the sudden departure. One or two suits of clothes and a quantity of
linen lay about the floor in disorder. They could not have been
forgotten; they must have been left behind intentionally. All these
clothes had been brought to the inn in Herr von Bertram's portmanteau,
and yet Hansel had noticed that it had looked much fuller without all
these articles in it when the gentleman had put it into the carriage
just now. Again Hansel shook his head; he did not know what to make of
all this, and he resolved to ask Herr Delmar about it as soon as he
returned to the inn.