In one of the quieter streets, whose modest but pleasant houses were
mostly surrounded by gardens, Marietta Volkmar lived with an old
lady--a distant relative of her grandfather--who was alone, but willing
and glad to be protection and company to the young singer.
The two ladies led a life about which the ever-busy tongue of gossip
could find nothing to say, and were much beloved by other members of
the house. Fraulein Marietta, with her pleasant, happy face, was an
especial favorite, and when her clear voice rang through the house
everybody stopped to listen. But the _singvoegelchen_ had grown mute in
the past two days, and showed pale cheeks and eyes red from weeping.
The people shook their heads and could not understand it until they
heard from old Fraulein Berger that Dr. Volkmar was sick, and his
granddaughter was worried about him, but could not obtain leave of
absence without a more forcible reason.
This was, indeed, no falsehood, for the old doctor had really been
suffering for several days from a severe cold, but it offered no
occasion for serious concern. It was only a plausible explanation of
Marietta's changed demeanor, which was noticed even by her colleagues
at the theatre.
The singer was standing at the window, gazing steadily out, in her
plain but cosily furnished sitting room, having just returned from a
rehearsal, while Fraulein Berger sat at a little table with her
needlework, casting anxious glances at her protegee.
"But, dear child, do not take this affair so sorely to heart," she
admonished. "You will wear yourself out with this anxiety and
excitement. Why anticipate the worst at once?"
Marietta did not turn. She was painfully pale, and a suppressed sob was
in her voice as she replied:
"This is now the third day, and yet I cannot learn anything. Oh, it is
awful to have to wait like this, hour after hour, for bad news."
"But why must it be bad news?" the old lady spoke consolingly. "Herr
von Eschenhagen was still well and bright yesterday afternoon. I
inquired about him at your special request. He went to drive with Herr
and Frau von Wallmoden. The affair has probably been settled amicably."
"I should have heard of it," said the young girl, in a heartbroken way.
"He promised me, and he would have kept his word, I know. If misfortune
has really happened to him--if he has fallen--I believe I could not
live!"
The last words were spoken so passionately that Fraulein Berger looked
at the speaker in dismay.
"Do be reasonable, Marietta," she entreated. "How are you responsible
for an impertinent man insulting you, or the betrothed of your friend
stepping in to your rescue? You really could not act more despairingly
if your own betrothed stood before the pistol."
The cheeks, just now so pale, flushed redly, and Marietta turned to the
window with a quick gesture.
"You do not understand, auntie," she said, in a low voice; "you do not
know how much love and kindness have been shown me in the house of the
Chief Forester--how earnestly Toni begged my forgiveness when she
learned how deeply her future mother-in-law had offended me. What will
she think of me when she hears that her betrothed has been in a duel
for my sake? What will Frau von Eschenhagen say?"
"Well, they will at least be open to the conviction that you are quite
innocent in this affair, which, if it ends well, they will not hear of.
I do not recognize or understand you in all this. You used to laugh
away every care and anxiety, but this time you exaggerate it in a
really incomprehensible manner. You have scarcely eaten or drunk in two
days in your excitement; you must not sit at my table to-day as you did
yesterday and the day before. I tell you that; and now I will look
after the dinner."
The kind old lady arose and left the room to prepare some extra dainty
with which to tempt her protegee's fleeting appetite.
She was right; the merry, bright Marietta would not now be recognized.
Beyond a doubt it gave a painful, depressed feeling to be brought
before the people of Furstenstein in so bad a light through that
occurrence in the park, and even here in town her name, so carefully
protected, might suffer if something of it should be heard; but,
strange to say, these possibilities remained in the background because
of a fear which grew with every hour and was hardly to be borne any
longer.
"With my blood, if it must be."
Unconsciously she whispered Willibald's last words, and pressed her hot
brow against the window pane. "Oh, my God, not that!"
Suddenly at the street corner a figure appeared, which attracted
attention on account of its unusual size. He came nearer with rapid
steps and looked searchingly at the house numbers.
With a suppressed cry of joy, Marietta sprang from the window. She had
recognized Herr von Eschenhagen. She did not wait until he pulled the
bell, but hastened to open the door. Tears shimmered yet in her eyes,
but her voice was jubilant as she cried: "You come at last! God be
praised!"
"Yes, here I am, well and whole," assured Willibald, whose face lighted
up at his reception.
Neither knew how they reached the sitting room. To the young man it
seemed as if a small, soft hand had been laid upon his arm and had
drawn him along, all unresisting. But when they stood before each
other, Marietta noticed that a broad, black bandage was around his
right hand.
"Mon Dieu, you are injured!" she cried in fear.
"A slight scratch--not worth mentioning," Willibald said merrily,
waving the hand. "I have given the Count a more severe reminder, but it
is also only a glance shot in the shoulder, and not in the least
dangerous to his precious life. That man could not even shoot right."
"Then you did have the duel? I knew it."
"This morning at 8 o'clock. But you need fear nothing more, mein
Fraulein. You see everything has passed off well."
The young singer drew a deep breath, as if relieved of a mountain load.
"I thank you, Herr von Eschenhagen. No--no, do not refuse my thanks.
You have endangered your life for my sake. I thank you a thousand
times."
"There is no cause, Fraulein; I did it gladly," said Willibald,
cordially. "But, since I have stood before the pistol now for your
sake, you must permit me to bring you a little token of remembrance.
You will not throw it at my feet again?"
He somewhat awkwardly--because of his left hand--drew out from his
pocket a white tissue paper, and, opening it, disclosed a full-blown
rose with two buds.
Marietta dropped her eyes in confusion. Mutely she accepted the flowers
and fastened one of them at her throat. Then she stretched out her hand
to the giver just as mutely.
He fully understood the apology.
"Of course you are accustomed to different floral offerings," he said,
apologetically. "I hear a great deal of the homage people pay you."
The young girl smiled, but with a more pathetic than happy expression.
"You have been a witness to what this homage is at times, and it was
not the first time it has happened. The gentlemen seem to think they
are permitted to venture anything when one is on the stage. Believe me,
Herr von Eschenhagen, it is often hard to bear this lot, for which I am
envied by so many."
Willibald listened intently to these words.
"Hard to bear? I thought you loved your vocation above everything, and
would not leave it at any price."
"Oh, surely I love it; but I had not thought that so much bitterness
and hardship were connected with it. My teacher, Professor Marani,
says: 'One must rise as on eagle's wings; then all the low and vulgar
will remain far below.' He may be right, but one must be an eagle for
that, and I am only a '_singvoegelchen_,' as my grandfather calls me,
which has nothing but its voice and cannot rise so high. The critics
often tell me that fire and strength are wanting in my rendering. I
feel myself that I have no real dramatic talent. I can only sing, and
would rather do that at home in our green forests than here in this
golden cage."
The voice of the usually bright, cheery girl sounded full of deeply
suppressed emotion. This last occurrence had shown her again very
plainly her unprotected position, and now her heart opened to the man
who had interfered so bravely for her.
He listened in rapt attention and seemed to read the words from her
lips, but at this truly sad report his face beamed as if something very
joyful was being related, and now he interrupted vehemently:
"You long to get away from here? You would like to leave the stage?"
Marietta laughed aloud, in spite of her sorrow.
"No, I really do not think of that, for what should I do then? My
grandfather saved and economized for years to make my education as a
singer possible, and it would be poor gratitude if I should be a burden
to him in his old age. He does not know that at times his little
_singvogel_ longs for its nest, or that life is made hard for her here.
I am not usually without courage. I persevere and stand strong whenever
it must be so. Do not let these, my laments, be heard at Furstenstein.
You are going there?"
A shadow passed over the beaming face of young Eschenhagen, and he was
the one now to lower his eyes.
"I, indeed, go to Furstenstein this afternoon," he replied, in a
strangely suppressed tone.
"Oh, I ask this one thing more. You must tell your betrothed
everything--you hear?--everything. We owe it to her. I shall write her
to-day about the occurrence, and you will confirm my letter with your
words--yes?"
Willibald raised his eyes slowly and looked at the speaker. "You are
right, Fraulein. Toni must hear everything the whole truth. I had
already decided on that before I came here; but it will be a hard hour
for me."
"Oh, surely not," said Marietta, encouragingly. "Toni is good and full
of trust. She will believe your word and my word, that we are both
innocent in this affair."
"But I am not without guilt--at least toward my bride-elect," declared
Willibald, earnestly. "Do not look at me in such affright. You must
hear it later, anyway, and it is perhaps better that I tell you myself.
I am going to Furstenstein only to ask Toni"--he stopped short and drew
a deep breath--"to give me back my troth."
"For heaven's sake, why?" cried the young girl, horrified at this
explanation.
"Why? Because it would be wrong should I offer Toni my hand and
stand with her at the altar, with my heart as it is now. Because
only now do I see what the principal thing is for betrothal and
marriage--because----" He did not finish, but his eyes spoke so plainly
that Marietta fully understood the rest.
Her face suddenly colored crimson. She drew back and made a violently
repellent gesture.
"Herr von Eschenhagen, be silent; do not speak another word."
"But it is not my fault," Willibald continued, in spite of the command.
"I have struggled manfully and tried truly to keep my promise during
the whole time I was at Burgsdorf. I believed it would be possible; but
then I came here and saw you again in 'Arivana' on that evening, and
knew that the struggle had been in vain. I had not forgotten you,
Fraulein Marietta--not for an hour--as often as I had tried to make
myself believe it, and I shall not forget you all my life long. I shall
confess this to Toni openly, and shall also tell my mother when I
return to her."
The confession was made. The young lord, who could not manage the first
proposal at Furstenstein alone, but had to be helped by his mother, now
spoke as warmly and heartily--as openly and as truly--as a man must
speak in such an hour. He had learned it suddenly, and with the
helplessness which he shook off with such decision, there seemed to
fall off, too, all his awkwardness and ridiculous manner.
He quickly approached Marietta, who had fled to the window, and his
firm voice grew unsteady as he continued: "And now one question. You
looked so pale when you opened the door for me, and your eyes spoke of
tears. The affair may have been painful and mortifying to you; I can
understand that, but did you also fear a little for my welfare?"
No answer, but low sobs.
"Did you fear for me? Only a little 'yes,' Marietta. You have no idea
how happy you would make me."
He bent low over the young girl, who now slowly raised the small, bowed
head. In her dark eyes there glowed a spark as of secret happiness. The
answer was almost inaudible.
"I? Ach, I have almost _died_ of fear these last two days."
Willibald gave a joyful exclamation and drew her to his breast; but
only for a moment, then she struggled from his embrace.
"No--not now. Go now, please."
He released her at once and stepped back.
"You are right, Marietta; not yet. But, after I have freed myself, I
shall come again and ask for another 'yes.' Farewell."
He hastened away before Marietta had scarce recovered control of
herself. She was aroused by the voice of Fraulein Berger, who,
unnoticed by the two, had stood upon the threshold of the adjoining
room for several moments, and who now approached in a state of horror.
"Child, for mercy's sake, what does it mean? Do you not consider----"
The young girl did not let her finish, but threw both arms around her
neck and wept passionately.
"Ah, now I know why I was so enraged at the time he suffered his mother
to insult me. It hurt me so inexpressibly to believe him a coward; I
have loved him from the first."