Julie had long ago finished reading the letter, and still she stood
motionless at the window, while Jansen, his head sunk on his breast,
sat on the sofa in a state between waking and sleeping.
It was not until the sheets slipped from her hand and fell at his feet
that he started from his stupor. But he did not pick them up.
"What does he write?" He asked in a hollow voice.
"Just what you thought he would," she answered. "You will hardly find
anything new in the letter, or at all events, anything that can alter
things. So you had better read it at some calmer hour, after you have
had a good sleep. In spite of all, I feel sure the letter will do you
good. It would have been impossible to write of an unworthy subject in
a more dignified way, and I, at least, have no worse opinion of our
friend since I have heard his sad story. I believe everything will yet
go well, and we needn't even lose our friend. He speaks, to be sure, of
his self-imposed exile, and has also written a farewell letter to
Irene, because he is of too chivalrous a nature to allow himself a
happiness of which he thinks he has deprived us."
He raised his head and looked at her with a dazed, inquiring look in
his eyes.
"I don't understand a word!" he said.
She bent over him, clasped her arms round his neck, and kissed him on
the forehead.
"It isn't at all necessary you should understand me, dear one. Only
keep quiet and trust to your best friend. It is true, circumstances
treat us ill! but a true love and a little common-sense--oughtn't they
to come out triumphant over all the tricks of blind fortune? I am only
a woman; but it goes against my pride to submit so tamely and
helplessly, when life is at stake. For in our hearts, is not everything
pure between us two? And shall we not belong to one another merely
because all sorts of impurity and hostility work against us from
without? No, my dearest, we will not submit to this. Because we live in
an imperfect world, we will do our best to make it more perfect; at
least on that plot of earth on which our cot may stand."
Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, but she smiled upon him so
tenderly that, for the first time in a long while, a sense of warmth
passed over the soul of this broken-hearted man.
"What do you mean, dear?" he asked, looking at her in surprise.
"Be still--not yet!" she whispered, as she brushed back his hair from
his forehead and kissed his eyes. "But if you love me, as you say, and
as I must believe you do or else I could not live, trust me and do just
what I ask. In the first place ride home and take some breakfast, at
which little Frances will keep you company. And then lie down and sleep
as well and as soundly as you possibly can. But I must wake you up
toward evening, for I shall expect to see you at my house punctually at
seven o'clock. If you will be very obedient and do all this, you shall
learn, as a reward, the plan I have formed to smooth over these wearing
troubles, and to make four good people happy. Until then don't try to
think what it can be, but rely upon your true love. Will you do this?"
She kissed him long and tenderly, while he stammered some confused
words. Then she led him out of the room. He cast a timid look toward
the door of his saint factory.
"My child," he said, "I am ashamed of myself. You saw me there! Is it
possible you can love a madman?"
"I am not a bit afraid," she smiled. "That wild spirit will never, even
in its darkest hour, shatter anything that is sacred to us both."
When she saw the drosky roll away, she breathed more freely, and went
slowly into the house. She had given the friends, who waited
impatiently for news, a hint to withdraw and not to come in his way.
Kohle had gone with Rosenbusch into the latter's studio; Angelica sat
before her easel without touching a brush. Now, when Julie entered, she
rushed upon her in her violent way. "Well?" she cried. "But what is it?
you have been crying!"
"Not for sorrow, dearest! Though there was room for that too. For much
that is bitter lies behind us, and how much more beautiful it all might
be! But the best is not lost--listen--I must tell you something."
She stooped over and whispered something in her ear. A loud cry of joy
burst from the faithful soul. She blushed deeply from joyful surprise,
and the next minute she had her arms round Julie's neck, almost
suffocating her with kisses and caresses.
"Foolish girl," said Julie, escaping from her at last. "What is the
matter? Didn't you always prophesy it would turn out this way in the
end? Now do me the favor to be as sensible as it is possible for an
artist to be. You must help me; without you--how would it be possible
for us to be ready by this evening? I want to tell you at once how I
have thought it all out!"
They remained together for another half hour engaged in a most earnest
consultation, and then separated, after many tender embraces and
assurances of eternal friendship. The two men in the next room had only
heard through the wall the cry of joy, and then an unintelligible
whispering and murmuring; their impatience had been cruelly racked.
When, therefore, the door was heard to open, they too stepped out into
the entry with an air of quiet reproach.
"Angelica will tell you all about it!" cried Julie, running quickly
down the stairs. "And I depend upon your both giving me the pleasure of
a call this evening. Don't be alarmed about Jansen. He is at home now,
and well taken care of--"
With this she disappeared from their sight.
"Fraeulein Minna Engelken," said Rosenbusch, "will your at length
condescend to inform us what this tedious session, with closed doors
has to portend?"
"Only as much as it will be proper and necessary for you to know, Herr
von Rosebud!" replied the painter, who was so excited and preoccupied
that she had put on her hat wrong side before, and had not succeeded
much better with the rest of her street toilet. "The two gentlemen are
invited to take a cup of tea with Fraeulein Julie this evening, and are
requested to convey this message to Herr von Schnetz, to Herr Elfinger,
and to Papa Schoepf also. You are to appear punctually at a quarter
before seven in full uniform, and with all your decorations. For
particulars, see small bills. And now I must beg to be excused--I
have such a host of commissions--and since the lords of creation
cannot possibly be made use of for anything outside of the arts and
sciences--I will say _au revoir!_ until to-night, gentlemen!"
She made a coquettish courtesy, hustled the astonished visitors out of
her studio without much ceremony, and flew, singing, down the stairs.