"My poor dear friend! To think we must part again; it is really too
hard. But don't be discouraged! Gretchen will get well, and everything
will come out right at last."
Ottilie Wollnow said these words in the antechamber of her house in
Sundin, to Gotthold, with whom she had just left the room where Cecilia
and old Borlaf were watching Gretchen's feverish slumber.
"Everything," repeated Ottilie, as she saw that the look of deep sorrow
on Gotthold's expressive face remained unchanged.
"You do not really think so yourself," he replied, gratefully pressing
Ottilie's hand; "if the child dies, Cecilia, I fear, will never get
over it, no matter how much, how entirely, that scoundrel is to blame;
at any rate it will be another of those sad, torturing memories, which,
according to her own confession to you, separate her from me forever."
Herr Wollnow came out of an adjoining room, ready for walking. Ottilie
accompanied the two friends to the door. "I wish I could go with you,"
said she.
"And it would not be a bad thing," said Wollnow as the two friends
walked through the dusky streets, in which to-day there was an unusual
stir and bustle; "women have what in such cases removes mountains--the
sovereign passion which we men, luckily for ourselves, have reasoned
away, though without obtaining in exchange the sovereign calmness with
which that strange old man met Brandow this morning. I would not speak
of it in the ladies' presence. Brandow, with the acuteness for which
even his enemies must give him credit, had made up his mind from the
first moment that Cecilia must sooner or later come here, even if she
did not do so at once. He therefore instantly turned round and drove
here as fast as the horses could go; he must have met you just outside
of Prora. Since that time he has lurked around my house and your
lodgings; I admire the firmness with which he has maintained his usual
calm manner, and his boldness in telling everybody that his wife had
gone away to make a little visit, and the farce Cousin Borlaf had
played with the farm-hands--searching the bog and forest--was a piece
of roguery for which he would call the spiteful old man, with whom he
had long been on bad terms, to a strict account. He must have had a
hell of anxiety and dread in his heart, for his enemies--and he has not
a few, foremost among whom are Redebas and the Plueggens--took an eager
interest in circulating the worst reports, and the members of the
committee on the races were on the point of formally demanding an
explanation from Brandow, when yesterday evening he said at the club
that his wife had arrived here half an hour before, and was staying
with us: the Selliens had also requested the pleasure of her company,
but the Assessor's health was not yet entirely restored, so he had
given us the preference. In order to give his statement the proper
weight, or--urged on by I know not what devil of impudence--as soon as
he heard of Cecilia's arrival yesterday evening--I suppose through Alma
Sellien, who unluckily was with my wife at the time--he rang the
door-bell, and sent in his card to Ottilie. She would undoubtedly have
been glad to receive him and give full vent to her feelings; but the
old gentleman entered the room, and with the stately politeness which
we of the last two generations have forgotten, begged her to leave him
alone with Brandow a moment. It was, in fact, not more than a minute
before the old gentleman rejoined the ladies with a mien as calm as
ever; while the other rushed down the staircase, and Cecilia, who had
no suspicion of his presence, was startled by the violence with which
somebody banged the door. Here we are at the 'Golden Lion.' Let me go
in alone. If we should not find him this evening, he ought not to know
that you have returned."
Wollnow entered the wide hall, through whose open door a bright light
streamed into the somewhat dusky street. There were a great many guests
in the large hotel on account of the races, which had commenced to-day,
and were to be continued to-morrow, so that Wollnow was obliged to ask
several times before he could get a positive answer; and Gotthold was
kept waiting longer than he expected. As, in walking up and down, he
had for the second time proceeded some little distance from the house,
a female figure suddenly emerged from a dark side-street, passed him,
and instantly turned back with a murmured "Carl," raising her black
veil at the same moment. In spite of the dim light, Gotthold recognized
Alma Sellien.
"You are mistaken," said he.
Alma had also recognized him; she had felt so sure of her ground that
terror almost robbed her of all presence of mind; but it was only for a
moment. "It is fortunate it was no one else," she said, drawing a long
breath, and then, as Gotthold made no reply, added: "I have begged him
again and again to tell you; you must learn it sooner or later, and to
you the news can give only pleasure; but he never would."
"And for good reasons."
"What reasons? Pray, pray tell me all."
"In another place and at another time; neither hour nor scene is
suitable."
Wollnow came out of the hotel. "Another time, then," whispered Alma, as
she drew down her veil and glided back into the dark street from which
she had just emerged.
"Who was that?" asked Wollnow.
"This man will drag half the world into the mire with him," cried
Gotthold.
"Where we should have sought him long ago, if we wanted to find him,"
replied Wollnow. "It was Frau Sellien, wasn't it? You betray no secret,
it was one only to us; here the sparrows chatter it on the housetops.
The man is making it easier for us than we expected; but it is a
wonderful piece of luck that you caught Hinrich Scheel. If only the
fellow's old clannish feeling doesn't break out again at the last
moment."
"I do not think it will; for it is precisely because Brandow has so
brutally wounded this feeling, so basely broken the faith due from the
chief to his follower--that has excited and angered the rough but in
his way honest man, to the highest degree. No, on the contrary, what I
fear is that our treatment of Brandow will not satisfy him, and he will
try to revenge himself in his own fashion."
"And is he so far wrong?" replied Wollnow earnestly, "are we not
robbing the gallows of its victim? And even if we excuse ourselves by
saying that there are crimes worse than highway robbery and murder,
which do not come under the head of any law, cannot Hinrich Scheel
quote the same thing himself, and demand that the breach of faith
committed against him, and for whose condemnation he can certainly
apply to no regular judge, shall not remain unpunished? But forgive my
illogical obstinacy, my dear friend. I perceive that the future of more
than one innocent person depends upon the secrecy with which we go to
work. So let a Vehmgericht or a judgment from Heaven take the place of
a public trial. Here we are at the club-house. I am sorry to leave you,
but I feel with you that you must fight your way through this without
seconds."
Gotthold walked up and down the brightly-lighted vestibule; loud
voices, laughter, and the clinking of glasses echoed from the
dining-room, into which a liveried servant had taken his card; the
clerk was sitting in the office busily employed on his books; and the
servants in the dressing-room had enough to do to take and deliver up
the coats of the gentlemen who were constantly arriving and departing.
The man again appeared; Herr Brandow begged to be excused, but he was
very busy just now; would not tomorrow morning be time enough?
"Time enough for what?" asked Gustav Von Plueggen, who had come out of
the dining-room directly behind the servant, and greeted Gotthold with
his usual noisy gayety, now increased by plentiful potations of wine.
"What? Brandow very busy? Stuff and nonsense! Pressing business! He's
sitting behind a bottle of Canary, writing one round sum after another
in his damned betting-book. They're all determined to be fools, though
Redebas and Otto and I have tired ourselves out talking; after what we
saw at Dollan, everything is possible. It will turn out just as it did
with Harry--Harry at the Derby, five years ago. Ever been in England?
Famous country--women, horses, sheep--famous. An old joke of mine that
always keeps fresh. What was I saying? do you want to speak to Brandow?
But why don't you come in? It will be a pleasure to me to introduce an
old schoolmate. Celebrated artist, hey? I heard some devilish good
things yesterday at the chairman's from Prince Prora, who made your
acquaintance in Rome, and is delighted to hear that you are in Sundin.
Even spoke of seeking you out; curious; on the race-course to-morrow.
By the way, got a ticket? Stand A? Don't hesitate, I beg; see,
half-a-dozen left; gives me great pleasure. Come in!"
The servant had turned the handle of the door long before. The
dining-room was crowded with people--members of the club, and their
guests, among whom the officers of the garrison were especially
numerous. They were sitting at different tables with bottles of
champagne before them; a gay, even noisy conversation was going on; no
one noticed the new-comers, not even Brandow, who had apparently just
risen from the table, and was standing at the end of the apartment, in
the midst of a group of people who were all talking to him at once,
while he, holding up his betting-book, exclaimed: "One at a time,
gentlemen! one at a time! since you are positively determined on being
kind enough to make me a Cr[oe]sus. Trutwetter, one hundred and fifty!
Please put your name underneath. Here, if you prefer! I have kept a
place for Kummerrow's two hundred pistoles, Baron? No! Oh! dear, omen
in nomine! who would have thought it? Another! Plueggen! Et tu Brutus?
What is it? A gentleman--back again already? I am very busy! Tell the
gentleman--"
Brandow suddenly paused; he had just seen Gotthold, who had been
standing directly behind him.
"I have time to wait until you have finished your business here."
"It would detain you too long."
"I have plenty of time."
Gotthold withdrew from the circle with a polite but formal bow; Brandow
had turned very pale, and stared sullenly at his betting-book, while
the lead-pencil trembled in his hand. What was the meaning of the
pertinacity with which this man pursued him? Should he rudely dismiss
him before the whole company? But that was impossible without a scene,
and this evening a scene might be dangerous.
"Now, Brandow! I have no time to wait!" cried a voice.
"Are you reckoning them up already?" asked a second.
"I really must run them over once," replied Brandow, closing the book;
"have patience for a few minutes, gentlemen; it seems that there is a
communication of some importance to be made to me. I'll be back again
in a moment. Now may I ask your wishes?"
"The communication I have to make is indeed of some importance, and
might be best heard without witnesses. So it is only in your own
interest that I request you to provide some place where we shall not be
disturbed."
"Have you considered that I shall probably have more to ask of you than
you of me?"
"I think I have considered everything; and that is probably more than
you can say."
They were standing somewhat apart from the others, speaking in low
tones, and looking steadily into each other's eyes.
"Come, then," said Brandow.
"Who was that?" asked one of the gentlemen, whose autograph graced
Brandow's betting-book.
"A famous fellow!" cried Gustav von Plueggen. "Old schoolmate of mine;
celebrated artist; talked about him all yesterday evening at the
chairman's! Protege of Prince Prora's! Famous fellow! I'm going to have
him paint me. In England every man of rank has himself painted with all
his favorite horses and dogs, and all the rest of the family. Ever been
in England, Kummerrow? Famous country--women, horses, sheep--everything
famous!"