ON THE ALM.
Saint John's day!--the people's holiday from legendary times, preceding
Midsummer day, all redolent with mystery, when hidden treasures rise
from the depths and allure wondrously, when the slumbering forces of
magic awaken, and the entire elfin world of the mountains reveals
itself in its wonder-working power. The people have not forgotten the
ancient festival of the sun's turning, and legend still throws its veil
about the sacred midsummer-time, when the sun mounts highest, when the
earth shows fairest, and warm, fresh life courses throughout nature.
In the country about Wolkenstein this day was one of the grand yearly
festivals. The inhabitants of the lonely, secluded Alpine valley which
the railway was to open to the world the ensuing year were devoted to
their customs and habits, and clung closely to their superstitions.
Here the Mountain-Sprite still held undisputed sway, and not merely as
a devastating force of nature with snow-storm and avalanche; for most
of the people she was enthroned bodily on the veiled summit of the
Wolkenstein, and the beacon-fires which flamed up everywhere on St.
John's evening had some hidden connection with the dreaded Spirit of
the Mountain. Nothing was known here of the pagan significance of the
bale-fire, nor of Christian legend gathered about it; the people in
their superstition clung directly to their own mountain-legends, which
they credited fully.
The clear, mild, June day was near its close; the sun had set; a
crimson glow still lingered about the loftiest mountain-tops. All the
other heights were lightly veiled in blue mists, while the valleys lay
in deep shadow.
High above the forests which clothed the foot of the Wolkenstein, where
the projecting cliff's of the huge mountain began their rise, there was
a smooth, green meadow, whereon stood a low hut. It was usually very
lonely up here, and seldom visited by strangers, since the ascent of
the Wolkenstein was deemed impossible, but to-day it was enlivened by
an unwonted stir and bustle. A huge wood-pile had been built upon the
spacious meadow, many an ancient pine and hemlock having contributed to
its erection. Gigantic logs of wood, dry branches, old roots, towered
high in air. The bale-fire on the Wolkenstein was always one of the
largest, and gleamed far and wide abroad over the country, for was it
not lighted upon the legendary throne of the entire range, at the very
feet of the Mountain-Sprite?
Around the pile was assembled a circle of mountaineers, mostly
shepherds and woodsmen, with girls among them from the neighbouring
alms, all powerful, sunburned figures, who lived up on the heights in
sunshine and storm all through the summer, descending into the valley
only when autumn reigned there. All were in merry mood: there were
endless shouts and laughter; for people who worked hard day after day,
and whose monotonous existence was rarely interrupted by any
relaxation, the old popular festival was a joyous one.
To-day, however, they were not entirely left to themselves; there was a
little group of spectators who had taken up a position on one side upon
a low eminence. This was an unaccustomed sight for the mountaineers,
and under other circumstances would have been an unwelcome one, for on
such occasions they liked to feel themselves undisputed lords of their
domain. But the young lady sitting on the mossy stone was no stranger
among them, nor was the huge lion-like dog at her feet. The two had
lived among these mountains for years, in old Wolkenstein Court, not a
stone of which was now standing. True, the wild, joyous child of those
days had grown to be a grand young lady and lived in the fine Nordheim
villa, which was nothing short of a fairy castle in their eyes, but the
Fraeulein came among them just as she used to do, and talked with them
in their patois as of old; no one dreamed of thinking her a stranger.
Moreover, Sepp was with her; he had been ten years in the service of
Baron Thurgau, and had superintended the affairs of the little estate,
and the two strangers who had accompanied her did not look at all, with
their brown faces, like city people. One of them had made Sepp bring
him directly into the circle of mountaineers, where he was found to
speak the patois perfectly, and was not one whit behind the rest in
enjoyment of the fun. The other, who looked a far finer gentleman, with
black hair and thick black eyebrows, stayed close beside the young
lady, and had just leaned over her to ask rather anxiously, "Are you
tired, Fraeulein Thurgau? We never stopped once to rest as we came up."
Erna shook her head, smiling: "Oh, no, I have not yet forgotten how to
climb. I used to go much higher, greatly to Griff's disgust; he
regularly made a halt here when I clambered up the rocks, and he still
remembers the place."
"Yes, I saw with admiration how lightly and easily you walked up. I
fancy you would find the difficulties of travel mere child's play where
other women could not possibly confront them. I am very proud of being
your escort upon this bale-fire expedition."
"I should else hardly have been permitted to come. Frau von Lasberg was
horrified at the idea of a nightly expedition among the mountains, and
Alice is not strong enough to undertake anything of the kind. Sepp
indeed long ago offered to accompany me, but he was not thought
sufficiently trustworthy, although he lived with us for ten years."
There was a shade of bitterness in the words, which did not escape the
hearer.
"You would not have been permitted?" he asked, surprised. "Do you
really allow yourself to be governed by others in such matters?"
Erna was silent, knowing well what a scene there had been when she
expressed a desire to make this expedition. Frau von Lasberg had been
almost beside herself at so eccentric and unbecoming an idea,--wishing
to mingle among peasants after nightfall, and to witness their rude
festivities. But it chanced that Ernst Waltenberg and his secretary
arrived from Heilborn in the afternoon. He immediately offered to
escort the young girl, and, as he was already regarded in the Nordheim
household as Erna's future husband, the privilege was accorded him
which had been denied to faithful old Sepp. Ernst was about to pursue
his inquiries, when a stranger approached and said, half shyly, half
familiarly,--
"Welcome home, Fraeulein von Thurgau!"
"Dr. Reinsfeld!" exclaimed Erna, in delighted surprise, offering him
her hand with the same confidence with which as a child she had treated
him upon his visits to her father. He seemed at first amazed, but his
face instantly lit up with pleasure as he grasped the offered hand with
answering cordiality. In a moment Griff had recognized his old friend,
and was leaping about him with every mark of delight.
"I did not have a glimpse of you yesterday when you were at our house,"
said Erna. "I did not know of your visit until you had gone."
"And I did not venture to ask for you; I did not know whether you would
like to have me claim acquaintance with you."
"Could you entertain such a doubt?"
There was reproach in her tone, but Reinsfeld evidently was not
depressed by it, and he looked at the girl with sparkling eyes. He
could see how much more beautiful, how much graver, she had become, but
she was the same to him as of old, nor did he in her presence feel any
of the timidity and embarrassment which had made him so awkward on the
previous day.
"I had such a dread of seeing you a fine lady," he said, simply. "But,
thank God, you are not that!"
The ejaculation seemed to come so directly from his heart that Erna
laughed,--the same merry, childlike laugh to which she had for years
been a stranger.
Waltenberg had at first observed with evident dismay the familiar
greetings thus exchanged, and the look with which he had scanned
Reinsfeld was darkly suspicious. Its result, however, could not but be
satisfactory. This Herr Doctor in jacket and felt hat could hardly be a
dangerous rival; the very ease and familiarity of his intercourse with
Erna was the best of warrants that he was merely a friend of her
childhood. Ernst Waltenberg was quite capable of perceiving this, and
his manner when Reinsfeld was presented to him was extremely cordial.
"We are but just arrived," said the doctor, after the introduction had
taken place, "and in all this merry turmoil we did not at first
perceive you. But where has Wolfgang gone? I brought your future
relative with me, Fraeulein Thurgau. Wolf, where are you?"
His call was quite unnecessary, for Elmhorst was standing fifty paces
off, looking fixedly at the group. Apparently he had not intended to
join it; he now slowly approached, and Benno could not but be surprised
at the formality of the greetings interchanged between the 'future
relatives.' Wolfgang bowed formally, and Erna's manner seemed to
indicate that this meeting was anything but agreeable to her.
"I thought you were to be in Oberstein this evening, Herr Elmhorst?"
said she. "You spoke yesterday of going there."
"I did, and I have been there with Benno, but he persuaded me to come
up to the alm with him."
"That he may see a veritable bale-fire," Benno interposed. "There is
one kindled in Oberstein too, but there the entire village, all the
labourers on the railway, the engineers, and a crowd of guests from
Heilborn are assembled, and so the fine old custom comes to be only a
noisy spectacle for strangers. Up here we have the genuine
unadulterated mountain-life. And there is Sepp! How are you, old
fellow? Yes, we are here. You would rather we were not to-night, I
know, and therefore I said not one word in Oberstein of our expedition.
You must put up with us,--that is, with the Herr Superintendent and the
stranger gentleman there,--for Fraeulein von Thurgau and I belong here."
"Yes, you belong here," said Sepp, solemnly. "You surely ought not to
be absent."
"I should like to protest against being treated as an entire stranger,"
said Wolfgang. "I have been living for three years in the mountains."
"But in constant war with them," Waltenberg interposed, half
ironically. "That would hardly establish your right to feel at home
among them, it seems to me."
"At most only the right of the conqueror;" Erna said, coldly. "Herr
Elmhorst upon his arrival here was wont to boast that he would take
possession of the realm of the Mountain-Sprite and bind it in chains."
"You see, however, Fraeulein Thurgau," Wolfgang replied, in the same
tone, "that it was no empty boast. We _have_ brought her under
subjection, the haughty ruler of the mountains. She made it difficult
enough for us, so intrenching herself in her forests and fields that we
were obliged to contend for every step of our way; but she was
conquered at last. By the end of autumn the last structures will be
completed, and next spring our trains will thunder through this entire
Wolkenstein domain."
"I am sorry for the magnificent valley," said Waltenberg. "All its
beauty will be lost when steam once takes possession of it and the
shrill whistle of the locomotive invades the sublime repose of the
mountains."
Wolfgang shrugged his shoulders: "I am sorry, but such romantic
considerations cannot have any weight where the question is one of
furnishing the world with roads for travel."
"The world which belongs to you! Here in Europe you have mastered it
with steam and iron. We who would find some quiet valley wherein to
dream undisturbed shall finally be obliged to seek it in some distant
island in the ocean."
"Assuredly, Herr Waltenberg, if such dreaming seem to you the sole aim
of existence. For us it is action."
Ernst bit his lip: he saw that Erna was listening, and to be thus
reproved in her presence was more than he could bear; adopting,
therefore, the same indifferent, high-bred tone with which he had tried
to humiliate the 'fortune-hunter' at their first interview, he said,
"The old dispute, begun in the Herr President's conservatory! I never
doubted your activity, Herr Elmhorst; you have certainly by its aid
achieved brilliant results."
Wolfgang involuntarily held himself more erect; he knew what result was
meant, but he merely smiled contemptuously. Here he was not merely 'the
future husband of Alice Nordheim' as in society in the capital; here he
was in his own domain, and with all the proud self-consciousness of a
man perfectly aware of his talent and of his achievements, he replied,
"You allude to my work as an engineer? The Wolkenstein bridge is
indeed my first work, but it will hardly be my last."
Waltenberg was silenced. He had seen the gigantic structure spanning
the yawning abyss, and he felt that he must give up treating as an
adventurer the man who had devised it. Though he should aspire ten
times over to the hand of the millionaire's daughter, there was stuff
in this Elmhorst, even his antagonist must admit, however unwillingly.
"I have indeed admired the engineer of that magnificent work," he
replied, after a pause.
"I am greatly flattered by your saying so,--you have seen all the
finest bridges in the world."
The words sounded courteous, but the glances which the men exchanged
were like rapiers. Each felt at this moment that something more than
dislike--that positive hatred divided them.
Hitherto Erna had taken no part in the conversation; she probably
perceived with whom the victory lay, for her voice betrayed annoyance
as she interposed at last: "You had better give up contending with Herr
Elmhorst. He is of iron, like his work, and there is no place in his
world for romance. You and I belong to quite another one, and the abyss
between his and ours no bridge can span."
"You and I,--yes!" Ernst repeated quickly, turning to her. All strife
was forgotten and all hatred dissolved in the joy that sparkled in his
eyes as he said, almost triumphantly, 'you and I!'
Wolfgang retired so suddenly that Benno looked amazed. The doctor was
talking with Veit Gronau, who had approached when he heard from Sepp
the name Reinsfeld, and had introduced himself.
"You cannot possibly remember me," he was saying, "You were a very
little fellow when I went abroad, so you must believe upon the evidence
of my face that I was a friend of your father's when he was young. He
died long ago, I know, but his son will not refuse me the hand which my
old Benno cannot give me."
"Most certainly not," Benno assured him, pressing the offered hand
cordially. "And now let me hear how it happens that you have returned
to Europe."