AT PRESIDENT NORDHEIM'S.
The reception-rooms of the Nordheim mansion were brilliantly lighted
for the celebration not only of the birthday of the daughter of the
house, but also of her betrothal. It was a surprising piece of news for
society, which, in spite of all reports and gossip, had never seriously
believed in the possibility of an alliance so unheard-of. It was
incredible that a man, notoriously one of the wealthiest in the
country, should bestow his only child upon a young engineer without
rank, of unpretending origin, and possessing nothing save distinguished
ability, which, to be sure, was warrant for his future.
That it was scarcely an affair of the heart every one knew; Alice had
the reputation of great coldness of nature; she was probably incapable
of very deep sentiment. Nevertheless she was a most enviable prize, and
the announcement of her betrothal caused many a bitter disappointment
in aristocratic circles where the heiress had been coveted. This
Nordheim, it was clear, did not understand how to prize the privileges
which his wealth bestowed upon him. With it he might have purchased a
coronet for his daughter, instead of which he had chosen a son-in-law
from among the officials of his railway. There was much indignation
expressed, nevertheless every one who was invited came to this
entertainment. People were curious to see the lucky man who had
distanced all titled competitors, and whom fate had so suddenly placed
on life's pinnacle, in that he had been chosen as the future lord of
millions.
It was just before the beginning of the entertainment when the
president with Elmhorst entered the first of the large reception-rooms.
He was apparently in the best of humours and upon excellent terms with
his future son-in-law.
"You have your first introduction to the society of the capital this
evening, Wolfgang," said he. "In your brief visits you have seen only
our family. It is time for you to establish relations here, since it
will be your future place of residence. Alice is accustomed to the
society life of a great city, and you can have no objection to it."
"Of course not, sir," Wolfgang replied. "I like to be at the centre of
life and activity, but hitherto it has been incompatible with the
duties of my profession. That it will not be so in the future I see
from your example. You conduct from here all your various
undertakings."
"This activity, however, is beginning to oppress me," said Nordheim. "I
have latterly felt the need of a support, and I depend upon your
partially relieving me. For the present you are indispensable in the
completion of the railway line; the engineer-in-chief, in his present
state of feeble health, is the head of the work only in name."
"Yes, it is in fact entirely in my hands, and if he retires,--I know he
is thinking seriously of doing so,--I have your promise, sir, that I
shall succeed him?"
"Assuredly, and this time I am not afraid of meeting with any
opposition. It is, to be sure, the first time that so young a man has
been placed at the head of such an undertaking, but you have shown your
ability in the Wolkenstein bridge, and the position can scarcely be
refused to my future son-in-law."
"In admitting me to your family, Herr Nordheim, you give me much.--I
know it," said Elmhorst, gravely; "in return I can give you only a
son."
The president's eyes rested thoughtfully upon the face of the speaker,
and with an access of warmth extremely rare in the man of business, he
replied, "I had an only son, in whom all my hopes were centred; he died
in early childhood, and I have often reflected bitterly that some
spendthrift idler would probably scatter abroad what I had taken such
pains to accumulate. I think better of you; you will continue and
preserve what I have begun, complete what I leave unfinished. I am glad
to make you my intellectual as well as my material heir."
"I will not disappoint you," Wolfgang said, pressing the hand extended
to him.
Here were two kindred natures, but surely the conversation was a
strange one for the evening of a betrothal and while awaiting a
promised bride. Both men had spoken of their schemes and undertakings;
Alice had not been mentioned. The father had demanded of his future
son-in-law much, but there had been no allusion to his daughter's
happiness; and the lover, who seemed entirely sensible of the
advantages of the family connection in prospect, never mentioned the
name of his betrothed. They talked of construction and bridges, of the
engineer-in-chief and the railway company, as coolly and in as
business-like a fashion as if the matter in question were a partnership
to be formed between them; and in fact it was nothing else,--either
could easily have foregone the additional relationship. They were
interrupted, however: a servant entered to ask for orders from the
president with relation to the arrangement of the table, and Nordheim
thought best to betake himself to the dining-hall to decide the matter.
It was still too early for the arrival of the guests, and the ladies of
the house had not yet made their appearance. The servants were all at
their posts, and for the moment Wolfgang was left alone in the
reception-rooms, which occupied the entire upper story of the mansion.
From the large apartment where he was, with its rich crimson rugs and
velvet hangings, and its profusion of gilding, he could look through
the entire suite of rooms, the splendour of which was most striking in
their present deserted, empty condition. Everywhere there was a lavish
wealth of costly objects, everywhere pictures, statues, and other works
of art, each one worth a small fortune, and the long suite ended, as in
some fairy realm, in a dimly-lit conservatory filled with exotic plants
of rare magnificence. In an hour these brilliant, fragrant apartments
would be crowded with the most distinguished society of the capital,
all ready to accept the hospitality of the railway king.
Wolfgang stood still and looked slowly about him. It was indeed a
bewildering sensation, that of knowing himself a son of this house, the
future heir of all this magnificence. No one could blame the young man
if at the thought he stood proudly erect, while his eyes gleamed
exultantly. He had kept the vow made to himself,--he had executed the
bold scheme which he had once confided to his friend,--he had dared the
flight and had reached the summit. At an age when others are beginning
to shape their future he had clutched success in a firm grasp. He was
now standing upon the height of which he had dreamed, and the world lay
fair indeed at his feet.
The drawing-room door opened; Elmhorst turned and advanced a few steps
towards it, then paused suddenly, for instead of his expected betrothed
Erna von Thurgau entered. She was much changed since she had been met
by the strayed young superintendent among the cliffs of the
Wolkenstein. The wayward child who had grown up free and untrammelled
among her mountains had not without result passed three years in her
uncle's luxurious home, under the training of Frau von Lasberg. The
little Alpine rose had been transformed to a young lady, who with
perfect grace but also with entire formality returned Wolfgang's
salutation. This was a beautiful woman, a gloriously beautiful woman.
Her childish features had become perfectly regular, and although the
rich bloom of health still coloured her cheek, her face expressed a
degree of cool gravity unknown to the joyous daughter of the Freiherr
von Thurgau. Her eyes no longer laughed as of old; there lay hidden in
their depths a mystery akin to that of the mountain-lakes of her home,
whose colour they had borrowed,--a mystery as powerfully attractive as
that of the lakes themselves. She looked singularly lovely as she stood
in the full light of the chandelier, dressed in pure mist-like white,
her only ornaments single water-lilies scattered here and there among
its whiteness. Her hair no longer fell in masses about her shoulders,
but fashion permitted its full luxuriance to be appreciated, and pale
lily-buds gleamed amid its waves.
"Alice and Frau von Lasberg will be here presently," she said, as she
entered. "I thought my uncle was here."
"He has gone for a moment to the dining-hall," Elmhorst replied, after
a salutation quite as formal as her own.
For an instant Erna seemed about to follow her uncle, but, apparently
recollecting that this might be discourteous towards a future relative,
she paused and let her gaze wander through the long suite of rooms.
"I think you see these rooms fully lighted to-night for the first time,
Herr Elmhorst? They are very fine, are they not?"
"Very fine; and upon one coming, as I do, from the winter solitude of
the mountains, they produce a dazzling impression."
"They dazzled me too when I first came here," the young lady said,
indifferently; "but one easily becomes accustomed to such surroundings,
as you will find by experience when you take up your residence here. It
is settled that you are to be married in a year, is it not?"
"It is,--next spring."
"Rather a long time to wait. Have you really consented to such a period
of probation?"
The lover seemed, oddly enough, to be rather averse to this allusion to
his marriage. He examined with apparent interest a huge porcelain vase
which stood near him, and replied, evidently desirous of changing the
subject, "I cannot but consent, since for the present I am master
neither of my time nor of my movements. The first thing to be attended
to is the completion of the railway, of the construction of which I am
superintendent."
"Are you, then, so fettered?" Erna asked, with gentle irony. "I should
have thought you would find it easy to liberate yourself?"
"Liberate myself,--from what?"
"From a profession which you must certainly resign in the future."
"Do you consider that as a matter of course, Fraeulein von Thurgau?"
Wolfgang asked, nettled by her tone. "I cannot see what should induce
such a course on my part."
"Why, your future position as the husband of Alice Nordheim."
The young engineer flushed crimson; he glanced angrily at the girl who
ventured to remind him that he was marrying money. She was smiling, and
her remark sounded like a jest, but her eyes spoke a different
language, the language of contempt, which he understood but too well.
He was not a man, however, to rest quietly under the scorn which
pursues a fortune-hunter; he too smiled, and rejoined, with cool
courtesy, "Pardon me, Fraeulein von Thurgau, you are mistaken. My
profession, my work, are necessities of existence for me. I was not
made for an idle, inactive enjoyment of life. This seems
incomprehensible to you----"
"Not at all," Erna interposed. "I perfectly understand how a true man
must depend solely upon his own exertions."
Wolfgang bit his lip, but he parried this thrust too: "That I may
accept as a compliment, for I certainly depended entirely upon my own
exertions when I planned the Wolkenstein bridge, and I trust my work
will bring me credit, even as 'the husband of Alice Nordheim.' But
excuse me; these are matters which cannot interest a lady."
"They interest me," Erna said, bluntly. "My home was destroyed by the
Wolkenstein bridge, and your work demanded yet another and far dearer
sacrifice of me."
"Which you never can forgive me, I know," Wolfgang went on. "You
reproach me for an unhappy accident, although your sense of justice
must tell you that I am not to blame, that I do not deserve it."
"I do not blame you, Herr Elmhorst."
"You did in that most wretched hour, and you do it still."
Erna did not reply, but her silence was eloquent enough. Elmhorst
appeared to have expected a denial, if only a formal one, for there was
an added bitterness in his tone as he continued: "I regret infinitely
that I should have been the one chosen to conduct the last business
arrangements with Baron Thurgau. They had to be made, and their tragic
conclusion lay beyond human foresight. It was not I, Fraeulein Thurgau,
but iron necessity that required of you the sacrifice of your home; the
Wolkenstein bridge is not less guilty than I am."
"I know it," Erna observed, coldly; "but there are cases in which one
finds it impossible to be just,--you should see that, Herr Elmhorst.
You are now a member of our family, and may rest assured that I shall
show you all the consideration due to a relative; for my feelings I
cannot be called to account."
Wolfgang looked her full and darkly in the face: "In other words, you
detest my work and--myself?"
Erna was silent: she had long outgrown the childish waywardness that
had once prompted her to tell the stranger to his face that she could
not endure him or his sneers at her mountain-legends. The young lady
never dreamed of conduct so unbecoming, and she confronted him now in
entire self-possession. But her eyes had not forgotten their language,
and at this moment they declared that the girlish nature was quelled
only in appearance,--it still slumbered untamed in the depths of her
soul. There was a lightning-flash in them which uttered a quick,
vehement 'yes' in answer to Wolfgang's last question, although the lips
were mute.
It was impossible for Elmhorst to misunderstand it, and yet he gazed
into the blue depths of those hostile eyes as if they had the power to
hold him spell-bound; only for a few seconds, however, for Erna turned
away, saying, lightly, "We certainly are having a very odd
conversation, talking of sacrifice, blame, and hatred, and all on the
day of your betrothal."
"You are right, Fraeulein Thurgau; let us talk of something else,"
Wolfgang rejoined.
But they did not talk of anything else; on the contrary, an oppressive
silence ensued. Erna seated herself and became apparently absorbed in
an examination of the pictures on her fan, while her companion walked
to the door of the next room as if to admire its magnificence. His
face, however, no longer showed the proud satisfaction which had
informed it a quarter of an hour before: he looked irritated and ill at
ease.
Again the drawing-room door opened and Alice and Frau von Lasberg
entered, the latter with a certain air of resignation; a darling wish
of hers was to be frustrated to-night. She had looked forward to seeing
Alice, whom she had trained entirely according to her own ideas,
enrolled in the ranks of the aristocracy, and one of the young girl's
distinguished suitors, the scion of an ancient noble line, had enjoyed
the Baroness's special favour, and now Wolfgang Elmhorst was carrying
off the prize! He was indeed the only man without a title whom Frau von
Lasberg could have forgiven for so doing,--he had long since succeeded
in winning her regard,--but it was nevertheless a painful fact that a
man so perfectly well-bred, so agreeable to the strict old lady,
possessed not the ghost of a title.
Alice, in a pale-blue satin gown rather overtrimmed with costly lace,
and with a long train, did not look particularly well. The heavy folds
of the rich material seemed to weigh down her delicate figure, and the
diamonds sparkling on her neck and arms--her father's birthday gift to
her--did not avail to relieve her want of colour. Such a frame did not
suit her; an airy flower-trimmed ball-dress would have been much more
becoming.
Wolfgang hastened to meet his betrothed, and carried her hand to his
lips. He was full of tender consideration for her, and he was courtesy
itself to the Baroness Lasberg, but the cloud did not vanish from his
brow until the president returned and the guests began to arrive.
Gradually the rooms were filled with a brilliant assemblage. Those
present were indeed the foremost in the capital, the aristocracy by
birth and by talent, those distinguished both in the world of finance
and in the domain of art, the best names in military and diplomatic
circles. Splendid uniforms alternated with costly toilets, and the
throng glittered and rustled as only such an assemblage can,--an
assemblage thoroughly in keeping with the magnificence of the Nordheim
establishment.
The centre of attraction was found in the betrothed pair, or rather in
the lover, who, an entire stranger to most of those present, was doubly
an object of interest. He certainly was an extremely handsome man, this
Wolfgang Elmhorst, no one could deny that, and there was no doubt of
his capacity and his talent, but these gifts alone hardly entitled him
to the hand of a wealthy heiress, who might well look for something
more. And then, too, the young man appeared to take his good fortune,
which would have fairly intoxicated any one else, quite as a matter of
course. Not the slightest embarrassment betrayed that this was
the first time he had been thus surrounded. With his betrothed's
hand resting on his arm he stood proudly calm beside his future
father-in-law, was presented to every one, received and acknowledged
with easy grace all congratulations, and played admirably the principal
part thus assigned him. He was entirely the son of the house, accepting
his position as such as a foregone conclusion, and even at times
seeming to dominate the entire assembly.
Among the guests was the Court-Councillor von Ernsthausen, a stiff,
formal bureaucrat, who in the absence of his wife had his daughter on
his arm. The little Baroness was charming in her pink tulle ball-dress,
with a wreath of snow-drops on her black curls, and she was beaming
with delight and exultation in having, after a hard combat, succeeded
in being present at the entertainment. Her parents had at first refused
to allow her to come, because Herr Gersdorf was also invited, and they
dreaded the renewal of his attentions. The Herr Papa was armed to the
teeth against attack from the hostile force; he kept guard like a
sentinel over his daughter, and seemed resolved that she should not
leave his side during the entire evening.
But the lover showed no inclination to expose himself to the danger of
another repulse; he contented himself with a courteous salutation from
a distance, which Baron Ernsthausen returned very stiffly. Molly
inclined her head gravely and decorously, as if quite agreed with her
paternal escort; of course she had devised the plan of her campaign,
and she proceeded to carry it out with an energy that left nothing to
be desired.
She embraced and congratulated Alice, which necessitated her leaving
her father's arm; then she greeted Frau von Lasberg with the greatest
amiability in return for a very cool recognition on that lady's part,
and finally she overwhelmed Erna with demonstrations of affection,
drawing her aside to the recess of a window. The councillor looked
after her with a discontented air, but, as Gersdorf remained quietly at
the other end of the room, he was reassured, and apparently conceived
that his office of guardian was perfectly discharged by keeping the
enemy constantly in sight. He never suspected the cunning schemes that
were being contrived and carried out behind his back.
The whispered interview in the window-recess did not last long, and at
its close Fraeulein von Thurgau vanished from the room, while Molly
returned to her father and entered into conversation with various
friends. She managed, however, to perceive that Erna returned after a
few minutes, and, approaching Herr Gersdorf, addressed him. He looked
rather surprised, but bowed in assent, and the little Baroness
triumphantly unfurled her fan. The action had begun, and the guardian
was checkmated for the rest of the evening.
Meanwhile, the president had missed his niece and was looking about for
her rather impatiently, while talking with a gentleman who had just
arrived, and who was not one of the _habitues_ of the house. He was
undoubtedly a person of distinction, for Nordheim treated him with a
consideration which he accorded to but few individuals. Erna no sooner
made her appearance again than her uncle approached her and presented
the stranger.
"Herr Ernst Waltenberg, of whom you have heard me speak."
"I was so unfortunate as to miss the ladies when I called yesterday,
and so am an entire stranger to Fraeulein von Thurgau," said Waltenberg.
"Not quite: I talked much of you at dinner," Nordheim interposed. "A
cosmopolitan like yourself, who after the tour of the world comes to us
directly from Persia, cannot fail to interest, and I am sure you will
find an eager listener to your experiences of travel in my niece. Her
taste is decidedly for the strange and unusual."
"Indeed, Fraeulein von Thurgau?" asked Waltenberg, gazing in evident
admiration at Erna's lovely face.
Nordheim perceived this and smiled, while, without giving his niece a
chance to reply, he continued:
"You may rely upon it. But we must first of all try to make you more at
home in Europe, where you are positively a stranger. I shall be glad if
my house can in any wise contribute to your pleasure; I pray you to
believe that you will always be welcome here."
He shook his guest's hand with great cordiality and retired. There was
a degree of intention in the way in which he had brought the pair
together and then left them to themselves, but Erna did not perceive
it. She had been in no wise interested in the presentation of the
new-comer,--strangers from beyond the seas were no rarity in her
uncle's house,--but her first glance at the guest's unusual type of
countenance aroused her attention.
Ernst Waltenberg was no longer young,--he had passed forty, and
although not very tall his frame was muscular and well-knit, showing
traces, however, of a life of exposure and exertion. His face, tanned
dark brown by his sojourn for years in tropical countries, was not
handsome, but full of expression and of those lines graven not by
years, but by experience of life. His broad brow was crowned by close
black curls, and his steel-gray eyes beneath their black brows could
evidently flash on occasion. There was something strangely foreign
about him that set him quite apart from the brilliant but mostly
uninteresting personages that crowded Nordheim's rooms. His voice too
had a peculiar intonation,--it was deep, but sounded slightly foreign,
possibly from years of speaking other tongues than his own. Evidently
he was perfectly versed in the forms of society; the manner in which he
took his seat beside Fraeulein von Thurgau was entirely that of a man of
the world.
"You have but lately come from Persia?" Erna asked, referring to what
her uncle had said.
"Yes, I was there last; for ten years I have not seen Europe before."
"And yet you are a German? Probably your profession kept you away thus
long?"
"My profession?" Waltenberg repeated, with a fleeting smile. "No; I
merely yielded to my inclination. I am not of those steadfast natures
which become rooted in house and home. I was always longing to be out
in the world, and I gratified my desire absolutely in this respect."
"And in all these ten years have you never been homesick?"
"To tell the truth, no! One gradually becomes weaned from one's home,
and at last feels like a stranger there. I am here now only to arrange
various business affairs and personal matters, and do not propose to
stay long. I have no family to keep me here; I am quite alone."
"But your country should have a claim upon you," Erna interposed.
"Perhaps so; but I am modest enough to imagine that it does not need
me. There are so many better men than I here."
"And do you not need your country?"
The remark was rather an odd one from a young lady, and Waltenberg
looked surprised, especially when the glance that met his own
emphasized the reproach in the girl's words.
"You are indignant at my admission, Fraeulein Thurgau, but nevertheless
I must plead guilty," he said, gravely. "Believe me, a life such as
mine has been for years, free of all fetters, surrounded by a nature
lavish in beauty and luxuriance, while our own is meagre enough, has
the effect of a magic draught. Those who have once tasted it can never
again forego it. Were I really obliged to return to this world of
unrealities, this formal existence in what we call society, beneath
these gray wintry skies, I think I----but this is rank heresy in the
eyes of one who is an admired centre of this same society."
"And yet she can perhaps understand you," Erna said, with a sudden
access of bitterness. "I grew up among the mountains, in the
magnificent solitude of the highlands, far from the world and its ways,
and it is hard, very hard, to forego the sunny, golden liberty of my
childhood!"
"Even here?" Waltenberg asked, with a glance about him at the brilliant
rooms, now crowded with guests.
"Most of all here."
The answer was low, scarcely audible, and the look that accompanied it
was strangely sad and weary, but the next moment the young girl seemed
to repent the half-involuntary confession; she smiled and said,
jestingly,--
"You are right, this is heresy, and my uncle would disapprove; he
evidently hopes to make you really at home among us. Let me make you
acquainted with the gentleman now approaching us; he is one of our
celebrities and will surely interest you."
Her intention of breaking off a conversation that had become unusually
grave was evident, and Waltenberg bowed silently, but with an
expression of annoyance. He was presented to the 'celebrity,' with whom
he conversed but for a few moments, however, before seeking out Herr
Gersdorf, whom he had long known; they had been college-friends.
"Well, Ernst, are you beginning to be at home among us?" the lawyer
asked. "You seemed much interested in your talk with Fraeulein Thurgau.
A handsome girl, is she not?"
"Yes, and really worth the trouble of talking to," Ernst replied,
retiring somewhat from the throng with his friend, who laughed, as he
said in an undertone,--
"Extremely complimentary to all the other ladies. I suppose it is not
worth the trouble to talk with them?"
"No, it is not," Waltenberg coolly replied, in a still lower tone. "I
really cannot bring myself to take part in their vapid talk through an
entire evening. It is particularly tiresome around the betrothed
couple,--a perfect chorus of utterly senseless remarks. Moreover, the
lady looks very insignificant, and is very uninteresting."
Gersdorf shrugged his shoulders: "Nevertheless her name is Alice
Nordheim, and that was quite enough for her lover. There is many a one
here who would gladly stand in his shoes, but he had the wit to gain
her father's favour, and so won the prize."
"Marrying for money, then? A fortune-hunter?"
"If you choose to call him so,--yes; but very talented, very
energetic,--sure to succeed. He already rules the various officials of
his railway as absolutely as his future father-in-law does the
directors, and when you see his _chef-d'[oe]uvre_, the Wolkenstein
bridge, you will admit that his talent is of no common order."
"No matter for that, I detest fortune-hunting from my very soul. One
might forgive it in a poor devil with no other chance to rise in the
world, but this Elmhorst seems to have force of character, and yet
sells himself and his liberty for money. Contemptible!"
"My dear Ernst, you are evidently just from the wilds," Gersdorf
rejoined. "Such things are very usual in our much-lauded 'society,' and
among very respectable people. Of course money is no consideration to
you, with your hundreds of thousands. Are you never going to cease
wandering to and fro on the earth and try sitting beside your own
hearthstone?"
"No, Albert, I never was made for that. Liberty is my bride, and I
shall be faithful to her."
"I said the same thing," the lawyer rejoined, with a laugh; "but time
brings one experience of this same bride's rather chilly nature, and if
in addition one meets with the misfortune of falling in love, liberty
loses all attraction and the whilom bachelor is glad enough to turn
into an honest married man. I am just about to undergo this
transformation."
"I condole with you."
"No need; it suits me extremely well. But you know all the story of my
love and woe; what do you think of the future Frau Gersdorf?"
"I think her so charming that she excuses in a measure your desertion
of your colours. She is lovely, with that rosy, laughing little face."
"Yes, my little Molly is an embodiment of sunshine," Albert said,
heartily, his glance seeking out the young girl. "The barometer at her
home points to 'stormy' at present; but although the court-councillor
and his entire family, with the famous granduncle,--who, by the bye, is
the worst of all,--should take the field against me, I am resolved to
come off victorious."
"Herr Waltenberg, may I request you to escort my niece to supper?" said
the president as he passed the young men.
"With pleasure," Waltenberg assented, hurrying away, with such sincere
satisfaction expressed in his face, that Gersdorf could not help
looking after him with a mocking smile.
"I doubt whether I shall long be the only one of us two to desert his
colours," he said to himself as his friend joined Fraeulein von Thurgau,
looking like anything rather than a misogynist.