Miss Mertens' presence lent an additional charm to the circle at
Gnadeck. For the first time for long, dreary years the governess found
herself an object of interest and affection, and at home. Her gentle
nature, so long chilled and repressed, now showed itself, and, combined
with her varied culture, made her a most attractive addition to the
household. She longed to be of use whenever she could, and took great
pains with little Ernst, who had a lesson every day in French and
English; while Elizabeth, too, gathered all the advantage that she could
from her visitor, and studied diligently, knowing that it was the best
resource to ward off sad reveries.
In the mean while, the practisings at Castle Lindhof went on as before.
Hollfeld, who had only been absent at Odenberg for one day, was still an
enthusiastic auditor, trying by every means in his power to obtain a
private interview with Elizabeth. Once or twice he had cunningly
contrived that, in the intervals of rest, Helene should leave the room
to find something that he wanted, but he gained nothing by these
manoeuvres, for Elizabeth always left the room at the same time to
procure a glass of water. His attempts to meet her upon her return to
her home she frustrated also, for Miss Mertens and little Ernst were
always awaiting her at the borders of the park. This perpetual
frustration of his endeavours at last made him impatient and less
cautious. He no longer held his hand before his face. His looks were
entirely unguarded, and it was only owing to her near-sightedness that
Helene was spared a most painful discovery. Thus Elizabeth's visits to
the castle grew more and more annoying, and she was thankful that the
fete day was at last close at hand, since with that celebration the
daily practisings would, at all events, be discontinued.
The day before Herr von Walde's birthday, Reinhard announced at Gnadeck
that a guest had already arrived at Castle Lindhof.
"That scatter-brain completes our misery," he said, with vexation.
"Who is she?" said Miss Mertens and Frau Ferber, laughing at the same
moment.
"Oh, she is said to be a friend of Fraeulein von Walde,--a lady from
court at L----. She is to assist in the ordering of the fete. Heaven
help us all, for she turns everything upside down."
"Ah, it must be Fraeulein von Quittelsdorf," cried Miss Mertens, still
laughing. "Yes, indeed, there is quicksilver in her veins. She is
terribly frivolous, but she is not really bad at heart."
Later in the afternoon Reinhard accompanied Elizabeth to Lindhof. As
she approached the castle, Herr von Walde's horse was led up to the
great entrance on the southern front of it. He himself immediately
issued from the glass door, riding-whip in hand, and descended the
steps. Elizabeth had not seen him since the afternoon when he had
treated her with such harsh want of consideration. She thought he
looked very pale and stern.
Just as he was mounting, a young lady, dressed in white, came out upon
the steps. She was extremely pretty, and with much grace she hastened
down to pat the horse upon the neck and give him a lump of sugar.
Fraeulein von Walde, who also appeared leaning upon Hollfeld's arm,
stood at the top of the steps, and kissed her hand in token of farewell
to her brother.
"Is not that young lady Fraeulein von Quittelsdorf?" asked Elizabeth.
Reinhard assented, with a wry face.
"She is certainly very pretty," said the young girl. "Herr von Walde
seems much interested," she added, in a lower tone, as the rider leaned
from his saddle, and appeared to be listening intently to what the young
lady was saying.
"Oh, he does not wish to be rude, and therefore gives her a moment's
attention. She would talk the moon out of the sky, and, I verily
believe, would seize and hang upon the horse's bridle if she saw any
danger of his leaving before she had finished what she had to say."
In the mean time they had reached the vestibule. Here Elizabeth took
leave of Reinhard, and betook herself to the music-room, where she found
Fraeulein von Walde and Hollfeld. The former retired for a moment to
her dressing-room, to arrange her curls, that were somewhat out of
order, and Hollfeld took advantage of this moment to approach Elizabeth,
who had retired to the recess of a window, and was turning over the
leaves of a music-book.
"We were provokingly disturbed the other day," he whispered.
"We?" she asked, with emphasis, retreating a step or two. "I, indeed,
had reason to complain of being disturbed. I was much provoked, I
assure you, by the interruption of my reading."
"Oh, every inch a queen!" he cried jestingly, but in a low tone of
voice. "I certainly did not intend to offend you,--on the contrary, do
you not know what that rose meant?"
"It would most certainly say that it would a thousand times rather be
left to perish upon its stalk than be plucked for such idle purposes."
"Cruel girl! You are hard as marble. Can you not guess, then, what
lures me hither daily?"
"Admiration, doubtless, for our great composers."
"You are wrong."
"Then the hope of improving your musical taste."
"Oh, no! That would not bring me a step hither. For me, music is only a
bridge----"
"From which you might easily fall into cold water."
"And would you allow me to drown?"
"Most certainly--yes. I am not ambitious of a medal from the Humane
Society," replied Elizabeth, dryly.
Fraeulein von Walde returned. She seemed surprised to find the pair
conversing, for until this moment there had never been a word exchanged
between them. She looked keenly at Hollfeld, who could not control his
feeling of annoyance, and then seating herself at the piano, began to
prelude, while Elizabeth arranged the notes. Hollfeld took his usual
place, and leaned his head upon his hand with a melancholy air. But
never had his gaze rested upon Elizabeth with such glowing and
passionate intentness. She repented having entered into conversation
with him. Her endeavour to repulse him by coldness and severity
appeared to have had quite a contrary effect. Repugnance and fear
overcame her at sight of him, and, notwithstanding the thought of her
uncle's probable smile of triumph, the determination rather to resign
the practisings entirely than to subject herself any longer to these
insolent glances, gained ground in her mind.
The hour was nearly ended, when Fraeulein von Quittelsdorf entered in
haste. In her arms she carried a little creature in a long, white,
infant's cloak, pressing its head down upon her shoulder with one hand.
"Frau Oberhofmeisterin von Falkenberg sends her compliments," she said
with formality,--"regrets excessively that a cold will prevent her
presence to-morrow, but she takes the liberty of sending her lovely,
blooming grandchild----"
Here the creature in her arms made desperate exertions, and, with a loud
howl, jumped down upon the ground, and ran under a chair, dragging the
long robe after it.
"Ah, Cornelie, you are too childish," cried Fraeulein von Walde, with a
laugh of amusement and vexation, as Ali's distressed face, surrounded by
a baby's cap, peeped out from beneath the chair. "If our good
Falkenberg could hear of this, you would play no more tricks at the
court of L----."
Bella, who had also just entered, shrieked with laughter, only
endeavouring to control herself when her mother, amazed at the noise,
appeared and represented to her how unbecoming such loud merriment was.
The baroness, smiling, shook a threatening forefinger at Fraeulein von
Quittelsdorf when Helene told her what had happened, and then approached
Elizabeth.
"Perhaps Fraeulein von Walde has not told you," she said rather
graciously, "that all invited to the fete to-morrow will assemble at
four o'clock in the large saloon. Pray be punctual. The concert will
not be over until near six. I tell you this that your parents may not
expect you at home before that time."
At these words, Helene looked down upon the keys of the piano in great
confusion, while Fraeulein von Quittelsdorf took her stand beside the
baroness, and stared Elizabeth impertinently in the face. Beautiful as
were the black eyes that were fastened upon her, Elizabeth was annoyed
by their steady stare. She bowed to the baroness, assuring her that she
would be punctual, and then looked full and gravely at the fair
impertinent. The effect was instantaneous. Fraeulein von Quittelsdorf
looked away, and, in some confusion, turned upon her heel like a spoiled
child. Just then she discovered Herr von Hollfeld in the recess of the
window.
"How, Hollfeld," she cried, "are you here, or is it your spirit? What
are you doing here?"
"I am listening, as you see."
"You are listening? Ha, ha, ha! And of coarse enjoying such
indigestible food as Mozart and Beethoven! Don't you remember telling
me, four weeks ago, at the last court concert, that you always suffered
from dyspepsia after listening to classical music?"
She laughed boisterously.
"Ah, pray let nonsense go now, dearest Cornelie," said the baroness,
"and aid me in this programme for the fete with your inventive genius.
And you, dear Emil, would do me a great favour if you would come too.
You know that I am obliged now to enforce my authority by the presence
of a masculine supporter."
Hollfeld arose with visible reluctance.
"Oh, take me too, pray! Would you be so cruel as to leave me here alone
until tea-time?" cried Helene, reproachfully, as she stood up. She
looked displeased, and it seemed to Elizabeth that she noticed, for the
first time, an envious expression in the lovely blue eyes as they looked
at the tripping feet of Cornelie, who, without another word, had taken
Hollfeld's arm, and was leaving the room. Elizabeth closed the piano,
and took a hasty leave.
In all the passages of the castle through which she went there was hurry
and bustle. The servants were carrying baskets of china, glass, and
silver to the rooms adjoining the grand saloon. From the subterranean
regions of the kitchens there streamed a fragrant odour, and through the
open door of one of the servants' rooms were seen heaps of green
garlands and wreaths.
And he in whose honour all were exerting themselves to-day was riding
alone in the forest, gloomily devising ways and means for fleeing from
the joyless, unquiet life in his home.
Elizabeth went down to the village to execute a commission for her
father. A few days before, a violent storm in the night had so shaken
the ruinous jutty in the corner of the garden that there was danger that
the slightest jar might send it toppling down upon the garden, burying
beneath its fragments the beds and paths which had just been so
laboriously arranged. Two Lindhof masons had promised to take down the
ruin the following Monday, but as the forester had declared that he knew
from experience that small reliance was to be placed upon their
promises, Elizabeth was to remind them of their engagement, and impress
upon them the urgent necessity for keeping it.
The result of her expedition was favourable. One of the workmen swore
by all that was Holy that he would be upon the spot, and she was now
wandering through the quiet, lonely path towards her home. About midway
upon the path leading from the village to the forest Lodge, a much
narrower path branched off, and ascended the mountain to Castle Gnadeck.
It was seldom used, and might have escaped stranger eyes, for in some
places it was overgrown with low bushes, and fallen leaves lay so thick
among the gnarled roots of the trees that it seemed never to have been
trodden by the foot of man. Elizabeth loved the path, and now chose it
for her return home.
She had never encountered a human being here, but to-day she had not
penetrated far into the green twilight before she observed, about twenty
paces in front of her, towards the right, just by the trunk of an
enormous beech tree, something like an arm slowly projected and then
dropped. She could distinctly perceive this movement, as just at that
spot the trees separated, and encircled a light spot of grass which
shone like an oasis in the dark forest. Elizabeth advanced noiselessly
and slowly, but as she arrived opposite to the beech tree she suddenly
stood still in terror.
A man was leaning against the tree. His back was turned towards her;
his head was uncovered save by masses of coarse, uncombed hair. For one
moment he stood motionless, apparently listening, then advanced a step,
raised his right arm, and pointed the barrel of a pistol towards the
light spot in the forest, after awhile letting his arm fall again by his
side.
"He is practising at a mark," thought Elizabeth, but she only thought so
to compose herself, for an indescribable terror had at once taken
possession of her; she did not know whether to run backward or forward
in order to escape observation, and so she stood still, rooted to the
spot.
Suddenly the noise of a horse's hoofs struck upon her ear. The man
started and stood erect as though electrified. A few moments afterwards
a horseman appeared where the forest was more open. The horse walked
slowly over the soft turf; its rider, lost in thought, had dropped the
bridle upon its neck. The man with the pistol rapidly advanced a couple
of paces; raised his arm in the direction of the horseman, and at the
same moment turned his head so that Elizabeth instantly recognized the
former superintendent, Linke, his features deadly pale and distorted
with rage and hate, while the horseman, who was slowly coming within
range of the deadly weapon, was Herr von Walde. An instantaneous
transformation took place in Elizabeth. The girlish terror that had
caused her to tremble at sight of the villain, gave place to a wondrous
courage and an incomprehensible calmness and self-control at the thought
that she was destined to come to the rescue here. She glided
noiselessly through the trees and stood suddenly, as if she had risen
from the earth, beside Linke, who, his eyes riveted upon his victim, had
no suspicion of her approach. With all the strength of which she was
mistress she seized his arm and threw it up. The pistol was discharged
with a loud report, and the ball whistled through the air and lodged in
the trunk of a tree; as the startled wretch fell upon the ground, a
woman's loud scream for help rang through the forest. The assassin
tottered to his feet and plunged into the thicket. In the mean time the
horse had reared and plunged with fright, but, speedily controlled by
its rider, came galloping across the clearing to the spot where
Elizabeth was leaning against a beech tree, pale as death. The danger
was past, and her feminine nature was reasserting itself. She trembled
in every limb, but a happy smile illuminated her countenance when she
saw Herr von Walde coming towards her safe and unharmed.
At sight of her he leaped from his horse; but she, who had just
manifested such extraordinary self-possession, screamed with fright and
turned suddenly as she felt two hands laid upon her shoulders from
behind,--Miss Mertens' agitated face was close to her own.
"Good God! Elizabeth," cried the governess, breathlessly, "what have
you done! he might have killed you!"
Herr von Walde pushed through the underbrush that separated them from
him.
"Are you wounded?" he asked Elizabeth, hurriedly and earnestly.
She shook her head. Without another word he raised her from the ground
and carried her to the fallen trunk of a tree, where he gently placed
her. Miss Mertens sat down beside her and leaned the girl's head upon
her shoulder.
"Now pray tell me what has happened," said Herr von Walde to the
governess.
"No, no," cried Elizabeth in terror; "not here, let us go,--the murderer
has escaped,--perhaps he is lurking among the bushes, and may yet
accomplish his design."
"Linke was about to murder you, Herr von Walde," said Miss Mertens, in a
trembling voice.
"Miserable wretch! that shot then was for me," he calmly observed. He
turned and went into the thicket where Linke had disappeared. Elizabeth
almost lost her self control, and was on the point of following him when
he returned.
"Reassure yourself," he said to her; "there are no traces of him to be
seen; he will not shoot again to-day. Come, I beg you, Miss Mertens,
tell me all about it."
It appeared that knowing that Elizabeth was going to the village, the
governess had gone to meet her in the narrow forest path. As she was
slowly descending the mountain she saw all that Elizabeth had seen. The
villain's intentions were plain, but she had been so paralyzed by fright
that she had not been able to move nor cry out. She stood fastened to
the spot with deadly terror, when suddenly Elizabeth, whom she had not
seen, stood behind the assassin. In her horror at her friend's danger,
the cry for help escaped her which had been heard simultaneously with
the report of the pistol. She related all this hurriedly, and in
conclusion added: "Where did you get the courage, Elizabeth, to seize
the man? I shudder at the mere thought of touching him, and should have
screamed loudly instead."
"If I had screamed," replied Elizabeth, simply, "Linke might have
accomplished his purpose, in his involuntary start of alarm."
Herr von Walde listened quietly but intently to Miss Mertens' account.
Only when she described how Elizabeth had seized the murderer's arm, did
his face lose colour for an instant, as he riveted a keen, anxious
glance upon the girl, to assure himself that she had actually escaped
the danger unhurt. He leaned over her, took her right hand and pressed
it to his lips, and Elizabeth plainly perceived that his hand trembled.
Miss Mertens, who observed how this expression of gratitude confused
Elizabeth and called up a burning blush in her cheeks, left her seat,
and picking up the pistol Linke had thrown from him in his flight,
handed it to Herr von Walde.
"Horrible!" he murmured. "The wretch would have murdered me with one of
my own weapons."
Elizabeth now arose, and assured Miss Mertens that all traces of her
fright had vanished, and that she was quite able to resume her walk
towards Gnadeck. They would both have taken leave of Herr von Walde,
but he tied his horse to the terrible beech tree, and said, lightly:
"We know well that Linke's nature is most revengeful; he may perhaps
hate her to whom I owe my life even more than he hates me. I cannot
permit you to proceed without a protector."
They ascended the mountain. Miss Mertens hastened on, that she might
incite Herr von Walde to greater speed, in order to take steps for the
apprehension of the criminal as quickly as possible; but her exertions
were all in vain. He walked slowly by the side of Elizabeth, who, after
a few moments of conflict with herself, begged him, in a gentle, timid
tone, not to go back alone to his horse, but to send for him from Castle
Lindhof.
He smiled. "Belisarius is wild and obstinate; you know him already," he
said. "He obeys no one but myself, and would never allow any one but
his master to take him home. Besides, I assure you, that cowardly
wretch will attempt nothing further to-day. And if he should, I bear a
charmed life. Has not my happy star risen to-day in my heavens?"
He stood still. "What do you think," he asked, suddenly, in a low tone,
and his eyes flashed as he looked at her, "shall I listen to the
delicious hope that it may shine upon me for the rest of my life?"
"If it is to tempt you to run repeated risks, it were certainly better
not to place such unconditional faith in your star."
"And yet I run the greatest risk of all in trusting such a hope," he
murmured, half to himself, as his face darkened.
"I do not understand you," said Elizabeth, surprised.
"It is quite natural that you should not," he replied, bitterly. "Your
wishes and hopes lie in quite another direction. Notwithstanding all
our stern self-discipline, we are sometimes overmastered by a beautiful
dream. No, no, say nothing more! I am punished already, for I am
awaking."
He quickened his pace, and walked by Miss Mertens' side, while Elizabeth
followed more slowly, lost in wonder at the harsh tone which he had
suddenly assumed, and which so wounded her. He spoke not another word;
and when at last the walls of the old castle appeared through the trees,
he took his leave, coldly and shortly, and descended the mountain.
Miss Mertens looked after him in surprise. "Incomprehensible man!" she
said at last, and shook her head. "Even though he attaches but little
value to his life, as would seem to be the case, surely a word or two of
gratitude at parting from you would not be superfluous, when he knows
that you have risked your life for his sake."
"I see no necessity for anything of the kind," rejoined Elizabeth. "You
attach altogether too much importance to what I have done. I simply
fulfilled my duty to my neighbour; and would," she added, with a strange
defiance in her tone and manner, "have done the same if the case had
been reversed, and Linke's had been the threatened life. I hope
sincerely that Herr von Walde understands this, for to his haughty
nature the feeling of obligation to another must be intensely painful,
and I would not for the world be that other."
At this moment anxiety and anger were striving within her for the
mastery. In thought she followed Herr von Walde, and shuddered with
horror as she remembered that perhaps he was just passing some spot
where the assassin was lying in wait for him; then she reminded herself,
as she quickened her steps, of what utter folly it was to waste so much
thought and feeling upon a man who persistently turned the roughest side
of his nature towards her. Even in intercourse with the baroness, who
was so utterly distasteful to him, he preserved his repose of manner,
never for one moment forgetting the laws of common courtesy, although he
invariably maintained his convictions with the greatest decision. He
had never been seen by those about him except when surrounded by an
atmosphere of the serenest dignity. It was only when talking with her
that he did not appear to consider it worth his while to control
himself. How violent and bitter he could be then! How his eyes flashed
as he waited impatiently for her replies, when they were not prompt and
decided! And he required besides that she should understand him almost
before he spoke, and yet was often utterly incomprehensible even when he
did speak. Perhaps every one else was cleverer than she, and could more
easily comprehend his manner of speaking, which was such a riddle to
her. Was it unwise to determine to avoid all intercourse with him for
the future? Certainly not. Well, fortunately, his departure was at
hand. Fortunately? The structure of self-deception, which her pride and
defiance had erected, crumbled to ruins at this thought; yes, it so
utterly vanished, that, to Miss Mertens' surprise, she turned and walked
quickly down the path that led to Castle Lindhof. She must satisfy
herself that he reached his home in safety. Miss Mertens followed her
to a grove whence they could see the door where he usually dismounted,
and they were greatly relieved when he shortly emerged from the forest.