Waldhofen was the most important village of the vicinity, but still
only a small place. It was about half an hour's distance from
Furstenstein and formed a kind of centre for all the scattered villages
and hamlets of the Wald.
It looked very desolate and forlorn during the afternoon hours, when
nobody was on the streets; so thought Herr von Eschenhagen as he walked
across the market place, where the post office was situated.
He finished the errand which had brought him to Waldhofen, and found a
man to carry the parcel to the castle. Then, since the streets of the
quiet little place offered no diversion, he turned into a lane which
led to the high road behind the gardens of the houses.
The path was rather boggy; yesterday's rain had made it quite without a
foothold in places. Yet Willibald was farmer enough not to care about
such things, but marched on unconcernedly.
He was in an exceedingly happy mood. It was surely a pleasant thing to
be betrothed, and he did not doubt in the least that he would lead a
very happy life in the future with his good Toni.
At this moment a carriage came toward him, making its way laboriously
through the boggy soil, and apparently bringing travellers, for a large
trunk was strapped on behind, and the inside seemed to contain various
travelling appurtenances.
Willibald could not help wondering why they used this lane, which, in
its present condition, was very tiresome; indeed the driver seemed
dissatisfied. He turned in his seat to consult with the traveller, who
so far had not been visible.
"It really does not go any further, Fraulein. I told you so before. We
cannot get through here, the wheels stick in the mud. We are in a fix
now."
"But it is not far now," said a fresh voice from the inside; "only a
few hundred paces. Just try it again."
"What is not possible is not possible," returned the driver with
philosophical composure. "We cannot get through that mire before us; we
must turn back."
"But I do not wish to drive through town." The voice had a spice of
defiance in it now. "If it is not possible to drive on, I shall
dismount."
The driver stopped, the door was opened, and a light, slender figure
sprang from the carriage with such sure aim as to reach a higher spot
across the mire. There she remained and glanced around searchingly: but
as the lane made a bend nearby, only a little of it could be
overlooked. The young lady seemed to observe this with dissatisfaction.
Then her glance fell upon Herr von Eschenhagen, who, approaching from
the other direction, now reached the bend.
"Please, mein Herr, is the lane passable?" she called. He did not
answer directly, being petrified with admiration of her daring and
graceful jump. Why, she flew through the air like a feather and yet
stood firm and safe upon her feet where she landed.
"Do you not hear?" repeated the Fraulein impatiently; "I asked if the
lane is passable."
"Yes, I have walked over it," said Willibald, somewhat confused by the
dictatorial questioning.
"I see that, but I have no boots like yours and cannot wade through the
mire. Is it possible to pass along the hedges? Great heavens! at least
answer me."
"I--I believe so. It is somewhat dry over yonder."
"Well, I shall try, then. Turn back, driver, and deliver my baggage at
the post office. I will send for it. Wait, I will take that satchel
with me. Hand it across."
"But the satchel is too heavy for you, Fraulein," remonstrated the
driver, "and I cannot leave the horses alone."
"Well, then, this gentleman will carry it for me. It is not far to our
garden. Please, mein Herr, take the satchel, the small one upon the
back seat with the black leather lining. But do make haste."
The little foot stamped the ground impatiently, for the young lord
stood there with open mouth. He could not comprehend how a total
stranger could dispose of him so nonchalantly, nor how so young a girl
could command in such a way.
At the last very ungracious words, however, he made haste to approach
and take the designated satchel, which seemed the proper thing to be
done.
"So," she said shortly. "You, driver, stop at the post office, and now
forward into the bogs of Waldhofen!"
She picked up her gray travelling dress and walked close to the hedge,
where the road was somewhat higher and dryer.
Willibald, of whom no notice was taken, trotted behind her with the
satchel. He had never seen anything so graceful as this slender figure,
which did not reach to his shoulder, and he occupied himself in
observing this figure, because he had nothing else to do.
The young girl had something exceedingly charming and graceful in her
motions, as well as her whole appearance; but the small head, with the
dark hair curling from under her hat, was carried with undeniable
spirit. The face was rather irregular in outline, but lovely with its
dark, roguish eyes, while the small, rosy mouth, around which lay a
line of refractory defiance, and the two dimples in the chin, made it
perfectly charming. The gray travelling dress, in spite of its
plainness, was very tasteful and met the requirements of fashion. The
young traveller apparently did not belong to the home-made villagers of
Waldhofen.
The road around the corner proved indeed somewhat dryer, but one had to
keep to the little, raised path near the hedge and to jump at times
over damp places. Conversation was, therefore, not possible, and Willy,
in truth, never thought of commencing it. He carried the satchel
patiently, accepting just as patiently the fact that his companion did
not concern herself in the least about him, until, after ten minutes'
walk, they stood at the low gate of a garden.
The young girl bent over the pickets and pushed an inside bolt; then
she turned.
"Many thanks, mein Herr. Please give me my satchel now."
In spite of its small dimensions, the bag was rather heavy, much too
heavy for the little hands outstretched for it. Willibald was seized
with a sudden attack of chivalry--not a usual fault with him--and
declared that he would carry it to the house, which was accepted with a
gracious nod.
They passed through a small, but carefully kept, garden to an old,
plain house, and entered through the back door into a cool, dusky hall,
where their arrival was immediately perceived. An old servant rushed
out of the kitchen.
"Fraulein! Fraulein Marietta! Have you come already to-day? Ach, what
joy----"
She got no further, for Marietta flew to her and pressed her little
hand upon her mouth.
"Be still, Babette! Speak quietly; I want to surprise him. Is he at
home?"
"Yes, the Herr Doctor is in his study. Do you wish to go there,
Fraulein?"
"No; I will steal into the sitting room and sing his favorite song.
Careful now, Babette; so that he does not hear us."
Like a fairy she slipped lightly and noiselessly to the other side of
the house and opened a door. Babette followed her, not noticing, in the
joy and surprise of her Fraulein's return, that some one else stood in
the dark hall. The door was left wide open, a chair was carefully
moved, and directly a low prelude began in trembling notes, probably
from a venerable old piano; but it sounded like the music of a harp,
and then a voice arose, clear and sweet and joyous as a lark.
It did not last many minutes, for a door opposite was hastily opened,
and a white-haired old man appeared.
"Marietta, my Marietta! is it really you?"
"Grandpapa!" was cried back, joyfully. The song broke off and Marietta
threw herself upon her grandfather's neck.
"You naughty child, how you have frightened me!" he scolded, tenderly.
"I did not expect you until the day after to-morrow, and intended to
meet you at the station. Now I hear your voice, and do not dare to
believe my ears."
The young girl laughed merrily as a child. She was more than happy and
content.
"Yes, the surprise has been a complete success, grandpapa. I drove into
the lane and actually stuck in the bog. I came in the back door. What
do you want, Babette?"
"Fraulein, the man who brought the bag is still there," said the old
servant, who had but just observed the stranger. "Shall I pay him for
you?"
The young lord still stood there with the satchel in his hand. But now
Dr. Volkmar turned and exclaimed in great embarrassment: "Gracious
heavens! Herr von Eschenhagen!"
"Do you know the gentleman?" Marietta asked without much surprise, for
her grandfather was accustomed to meet all of Waldhofen in his office
of physician.
"Certainly. Babette, take the valise from the gentleman. I beg your
pardon, mein Herr. I did not know that you were already acquainted with
my granddaughter."
"No, we are not acquainted in the least," declared the girl. "Will you
not present the gentleman to me, grandpapa?"
"Certainly, my child. Herr Willibald von Eschenhagen of Burgsdorf----"
"Toni's betrothed!" interrupted Marietta, gaily. "Oh, how funny that we
should meet in the middle of a bog! If I had only known, Herr von
Eschenhagen, I would not have treated you so badly. I let you follow me
like a regular porter. But why did you not say something?"
Willibald did not say anything now, but looked mutely at the little
hand which was cordially extended to him. Feeling that he had to either
say or do something, he grasped the rosy little hand in his giant fist
and squeezed and shook it heartily.
"Oh!" cried the young lady, retreating horrified; "you have an awful
handshake, Herr von Eschenhagen. I believe you have broken my fingers."
Willibald turned red with confusion and stammered an excuse.
Fortunately, Dr. Volkmar now invited him to enter, which invitation he
accepted silently, and Marietta narrated in a very laughable way her
meeting with him. She treated her friend's betrothed like an old
acquaintance, for she had long known of their engagement. She asked him
about Toni, about the Chief Forester and all the household, her small,
red mouth rattling on like a mill wheel.
Still the young lord was almost mute. The clear voice which sounded,
even in talking, like the twittering of birds, utterly confused him.
He had only met the doctor yesterday, when the latter had called
at Furstenstein. There had been some casual mention of a certain
Marietta--a friend of Toni's--but he did not know anything further, for
his fiancee was not very communicative.
"And this naughty child allows you to stand in the hall without
ceremony, while she seats herself at the piano to notify me of her
arrival," said Volkmar, shaking his head. "That was very naughty,
Marietta."
The young girl laughed and shook her curly head.
"Oh, Herr von Eschenhagen will not be offended at that, and therefore
he may listen while I sing you your favorite song again. You scarcely
heard a note of it before. Shall I begin now?"
Without waiting for an answer, she ran to the piano, and again that
silvery, clear voice arose, entrancing the ear with its charm. She sang
an old, simple carol, but it sounded as soft and sweet and coaxing as
if spring and sunshine had suddenly entered the desolate rooms of the
old house. It spread sunshine over the face of the old, white-haired
man, where many a line of care and anxiety was visible. He listened
with a smile, half sad, half happy, to the song which may have reminded
him of his youth. But he was not the only attentive listener.
The young lord of Burgsdorf, who two hours previously had fallen asleep
amidst the thunders of "The Janissaries' March"--who, in perfect accord
with his betrothed, had considered silly music a tiresome thing--now
listened to those soft, floating sounds as intently as if they brought
him a revelation.
He sat there, bent over, his eyes fixed immovably upon the young girl,
who apparently put all her soul into the song, moving her head to and
fro with an infinitely graceful motion.
When the song ended he breathed deeply and passed his hand across his
brow.
"My little singing bird," said Dr. Volkmar, tenderly bending over his
granddaughter and kissing her brow.
"Well, grandpapa, my voice has not exactly deteriorated in the last few
months, has it?" she asked, teasingly, "but it does not seem to please
Herr von Eschenhagen. He does not say a word about it."
She glanced with a childish pout over at Willibald, who now also arose
and approached the piano. A slight flush suffused his face, and his
usually quiet eyes flashed as he said in a low tone: "Oh, it was
beautiful, very beautiful!"
The young singer may have been accustomed to other compliments, but she
felt the deep, honest admiration in the laconic words, and knew very
well the impression the song had made. She smiled, therefore, as she
replied: "Yes, the song is beautiful. I have always had a regular
triumph when I sang it as an addition to my role."
"To your role!" replied Willibald, not understanding the expression.
"Yes, in the play from which I have just returned. Oh, it has been a
splendid success, grandpapa. The manager would gladly have prolonged
it, but I had already given the greater part of my vacation to it, and
I wished to be with you at least a few weeks."
The young lord listened with increasing astonishment.
Play! vacation! manager! What could all that mean? The doctor saw his
surprise.
"Herr von Eschenhagen does not know your vocation, my child," he said,
quietly. "My granddaughter has been educated for the opera."
"How dryly you say that, grandpapa!" cried Marietta, springing up.
Straightening herself to the fullest height of her dainty figure, she
added, with mock solemnity: "For five months a member of the highly
respected Ducal Court Theatre, a person of official honors and renown!"
Member of the Court Theatre! Willibald almost shuddered at those awful
words. The obedient son of his mother shared her disdain of
"actresses." Involuntarily he receded a step and glared horrified at
the young lady who had imparted such awful news to him. She laughed
merrily at this motion.
"You are not compelled to show so exceeding much respect and awe, Herr
von Eschenhagen. I will allow you to remain near the piano. Has not
Toni told you that I am on the stage?"
"Toni--no!" Willibald burst out, having lost his composure completely.
"But she is waiting for me. I must return to Furstenstein. I have
tarried here already too long."
"You are very polite," laughed the girl, gayly. "That is not very
flattering to us, but since you are engaged you must naturally return
to your fiancee."
"Yes, and to my mamma," said Willibald, who had a dark feeling that
something awful threatened him, before which his mother appeared as a
saving angel. "I beg your pardon, but I have stayed here already too
long----"
He stopped, for he remembered that he had already said that once, and
searched for other words, but could not find any, and, unhappily,
repeated the phrase for the third time.
Marietta almost choked with laughter, but Dr. Volkmar declared politely
that they did not wish to detain him any longer, and begged him to take
his regards to the Chief Forester and Fraulein von Schonan.
The young lord scarcely heard. He looked for his hat, made a bow,
stammered a few words of adieu and ran off as if his head was burning.
He had but one thought--that he must leave as quickly as possible; that
gay, teasing laugh made him crazy.
When Volkmar, who had escorted Willibald to the door, returned, his
granddaughter was wiping the tears from her eyes, quite overcome with
laughter.
"I believe something is wrong with Toni's betrothed here," she cried,
putting a delicate ringer to her forehead. "At first he ran behind me,
mutely carrying the bag like a fish wife; then he seemed to thaw at my
singing, and now he is seized with an attack of something and runs away
to Furstenstein to his 'mamma,' so quickly that I could not even send a
greeting to his betrothed."
The doctor smiled a little plaintively. He had observed closely and
guessed whence came this sudden change of manner in his guest.
"The young man has probably not had much intercourse with ladies," he
said, evasively; "and he seems to stand somewhat in awe of his mother,
but he appears to please his fiancee very well, and that is surely the
most important thing."
"Yes, he is handsome," said Marietta, somewhat thoughtfully; "even very
handsome. But I believe, grandpapa, he is also very stupid."
In the meantime Willibald had run like a storm to the next corner,
where he came to a standstill and tried to collect his thoughts, which
were in great confusion. It was a long time before he succeeded, but he
looked back once more to the doctor's house before he walked on.
What would his mother say to it? She who had placed the whole world of
actresses under a ban; and she was right. Willy plainly felt that
something bewitching belonged to the tribe; one had to beware of them.
But what if this Marietta Volkmar should take a notion to visit her
friend at Furstenstein? The young lord ought to have been horrified at
the thought, and was convinced that he was horrified; but with all that
the strange flash returned to his eyes. He suddenly saw in the
reception room, at the piano where Toni had been a little while ago, a
small, delicate figure, whose dark, curly head moved to and fro like a
bird, and the thunder of the march changed into the soft, rippling
notes of the old carol, while between all again sounded the gay,
silvery laugh which also was music.
And all this loveliness must be ruined and lost because it belonged to
the stage! Frau von Eschenhagen had often expressed such an opinion,
and Willibald was too good a son not to consider her an oracle. But he
heaved a deep sigh, and murmured: "Oh, what a pity; what a great pity!"