AN UNEXPECTED RETURN.
Johanna brought the _parure_ to her aunt. "He will not refuse to accept
aid from you," she said. Then they sat at table conversing upon
indifferent subjects, and the same talk went on in the drawing-room
while they were drinking coffee. When at last Magelone sat down at the
piano, and Aunt Thekla, wearied with the exertions of the day, dropped
asleep in the corner of her sofa, Johanna slipped out into the park.
Her heart was heavy. Otto's words, 'I cannot accept such a sacrifice
from you,' had wounded her, in proving to her that she was not as near
to him as she had thought. "I wish grandpapa were at home again; he is
the only one who really cares for me," she said to herself. And, as she
leaned against the wall of the park at the end of the linden avenue and
listlessly plucked some monthly roses from the marble vase beside her,
she thought that the tears that filled her eyes were shed for her
grandfather's absence.
A quick, firm step upon the gravel startled her from her revery. She
hastily wiped her eyes, but did not look around until Otto's voice said
close beside her, "Forgive me, dear Johanna. I hear, it is true, that
you do not like to be interrupted in your evening strolls; nevertheless
you must allow me to thank you before I leave here again to-morrow
morning."
"Are you going so soon?" she asked in faltering tones.
"Would you like to have me stay?" he replied. "Do not be conventional,
Johanna; I want to know your real feeling."
"We should all be glad to keep you here," she said.
He looked at her sadly, and rejoined, in a melancholy tone, "I asked how
_you_ felt; I care little about the others. But you,--what fault do you
find with me, Johanna? I ought not, indeed, to ask such a question
to-day. You all blame me, and you are apparently right in doing so. But
before--I mean when you wrote me that letter--we parted more than
friends; and then came that cold, stiff note!"
"It was not meant to be so; I meant it should be kind," she replied,
without looking up at him.
"So much the worse!" he cried. "You meant to and could not. But I have
no right to reproach you when you have just done me so friendly a
service."
"Which you did not wish to accept from me," she answered him,
reproachfully.
"Johanna, I trust you understand why it was so much harder for me to
accept this kind of help from you than from the others?"
"Because you do not know me so well; I am not so near to you," she said.
"You do not, you cannot believe that," he hastily interposed. "To me you
seem far nearer to me, and therefore it humiliates me all the more
to----"
"Where are you?" Magelone's voice called from a side-path at this
moment.
"Here!" called Johanna, who hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry for
the interruption.
"Oh, dear! I had so much to say," whispered Otto, as he took Johanna's
hand and pressed it to his lips. "One word more while we are
alone,--would you like to have me stay here a few days?"
"Most certainly. Did I not tell you so?" Johanna replied, vainly
endeavouring to withdraw her hand from his.
"And your letter was not the expression of your displeasure with me?" he
went on, still in a whisper, as he leaned towards her; but, before she
could answer, Magelone's light gown appeared from among the trees.
"Beg pardon if I intrude," she said, in a tone which was meant to be
teasing, but which only succeeded in sounding cross.
"Not at all," Otto replied, divining her jealous emotion. "Come take
part in our consultation; we were discussing the question of my either
remaining here for a few days or returning directly to my garrison."
Magelone joined them. "Return directly? 'Nonsense!' as grandpapa would
say, and as I say too. It is your duty, my noble knight, to stay here
and entertain us and coax Aunt Thekla out of her melancholy mood. Not in
vain have you called me your sovereign. I command,--you obey. Come now
to Aunt Thekla on the veranda; it is intolerably sultry here under the
trees."
So saying, she put her hand within Otto's arm and drew him away.
"Are you coming, Johanna?" he said, holding out his hand to her.
"In a moment; I only want to pluck a few roses," she made reply. But she
stood motionless for a while, looking after the pair as they vanished in
the dim depths of the linden avenue. Yes, she was leading him away, his
sovereign, who, as he had confessed on that January evening, had ruled
him by coquetry, and who would still so rule him, for the love which he
had summoned to his rescue did not appear to have discovered the magic
word that could break the spell. Or was it that he himself had not meant
to summon it? What would he have said had Magelone not made her
appearance? Idle questions upon which it were folly to ponder. Johanna
walked towards the castle. Magelone was right; it was intolerably sultry
beneath these trees, the air was heavy with the fragrance of the
lindens. She wished she could have Elinor saddled and gallop off through
the dewy meadows in the valley, or along the edge of the forest, but she
dreaded Aunt Thekla's amazement, Magelone's ridicule, and Otto's
companionship, so she gave up the idea.
The next morning early Otto took the jewels to town to procure a loan of
Loebel Wolf, but returned in high displeasure by the next train. The old
broker and curiosity-dealer would not loan money on the jewels unless
with the permission of the Freiherr or his sister. When the young man
had asked him angrily whether his own name were not enough to give as
security, Loebel Wolf had declared that he wanted no security, he was but
acting in accordance with his rule as a business-man. All that he would
consent to do was to give Otto a written acknowledgment to be signed by
Fraeulein Thekla. At first the old lady looked grave, and made
objections, since the jewels were not hers but Johanna's, but when the
latter entreated her not to complicate matters by refusing to sign the
paper, she complied, and Otto went back to town by the noon train.
There was no further difficulty. Otto received the necessary sum with
his ticket of deposit, and returned to Doenninghausen, in spite of a
tremendous thunder-storm, light of heart, and in entire unconsciousness
that a far more terrible tempest was gathering above his head.
Loebel Wolf, so soon as the young man left him, betook himself to the
examination of the _parure_. In his little office behind his shop,
stuffed from floor to ceiling with all sorts of curiosities, he sat at
his desk, and held the jewels beneath the light of the gas-jet
perpetually burning there. They were clumsily set, but he was enough of
a connoisseur to see plainly what they would be if set by an artist, and
the wish was aroused in the soul of the old man, whose hobby was
precious stones, to become the possessor of these.
But would the Freiherr sell them? The Doenninghausens were among the
richest of the neighbouring nobility. Loebel Wolf wagged his gray head: a
period of embarrassment might come for even the wealthiest, and it
seemed more and more probable to Loebel Wolf that it had come for the
Doenninghausens. One of the Freiherr's grandsons was making an expensive
tour, another was marrying more rank than money, and the third was
involved in debt and dissipation. Resolving to propose to the Freiherr
the purchase of the _parure_ so soon as he should return from Vienna,
Loebel Wolf locked up the seductive stones in his safe.
But the spell of their sparkle, under which he had fallen, left him no
rest, and even before Otto had reached Doenninghausen Loebel Wolf had
decided to write to the Freiherr in Vienna.
For Otto, life and the world had taken on a new aspect since he had
received the money which was to be his salvation. Aunt Thekla, when she
handed him the jewels, had obtained from him a promise that he would
confess the whole affair to his grandfather as soon as he possibly
could.
"It will be an evil hour for us," she said, "but it would be worse still
if my brother should discover the absence of the jewels before we had
made our confession. If your plan of procuring the money from the
bailiff had been practicable, you would have had to speak with your
grandfather without delay."
Otto had assented, and had promised to await at Doenninghausen his
grandfather's return, but as he rode back he changed his mind. He
reflected that it would be cruel to trouble his grandfather with
anything so disagreeable immediately upon his return home, and that it
would be far easier for the old Herr, as well as for all concerned, if
Aunt Thekla or Johanna would select some favourable moment for the
confession and tell him all, and that it would be very desirable for the
chief culprit to avoid the first outbreak of displeasure. He therefore
determined to take his departure at an early date; it would not be
impossible to convince Aunt Thekla of the advisability of this. Thus
everything was arranged delightfully, and he could enjoy himself to the
full during the rest of his stay at Doenninghausen.
The thunder-shower changed to a steady rain, which made walks or rides
in the open air impossible for a time.
"'Tis a pity; we were just going to have such a pleasant day in the
woods, instead of which we must drive to Klausenburg," Magelone said,
the first morning. "For Otto's sake," she added in an undertone; and
Aunt Thekla, who would rather have stayed at home, consented to go,
since 'the poor boy must have some amusement.'
The one visit brought on others. At Klausenburg they received an
invitation to Remmingen; at Remmingen a breakfast was arranged at
Gruenroda; on the fourth day there was the celebration of the Countess
Elfrida's birthday at Klausenburg, and on the fifth all were to assemble
at Doenninghausen for a dance.
"To celebrate Waldemar's marriage. I assure you grandpapa would be
delighted," said Magelone, when Aunt Thekla looked rather dubious, and
again the old lady gave way.
The Freiherr had written only once, on the day after his arrival in
Vienna. The journey had been made very comfortably, he was very well,
and expressed himself pleased with Waldemar's betrothed as well as with
the entire Walburg family. The time of his return was undecided. The
young couple were to leave for St. Petersburg immediately after the
marriage, but he might pass a few days with his new connections, and
would announce the day of his return in his next.
Until this letter arrived, then, Otto decided to remain in
Doenninghausen, and Magelone to amuse herself as much as possible. So
upon the evening of the 18th of June the castle windows shone
brilliantly through the rain, a merry party assembled in the rooms,
which were decked with flowers, and the dancing soon began to the sound
of the piano played by the village school-master. Magelone, in airy,
floating white, with white roses in her gold-gleaming curls, was, as
Otto never wearied of whispering to her, the queen of the evening; and
even Aunt Thekla, who had felt strangely depressed all day long, was
aroused from her melancholy as she watched the pretty creature, with her
rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, flying through the ball-room.
Otto, too, was, or seemed to be, the gayest of the gay this evening.
Aunt Thekla could not tell whether to blame or to admire him. Once as he
passed Johanna, who, being still in mourning, did not dance, he said, "I
would rather have one quiet hour with you than all this bustle;" but was
this more than a cousinly expression? and which was his true self,--the
laughing, careless creature which he seemed usually, or the grave, quiet
man who talked so seriously to her when they were alone together? He was
just passing now with the Countess Elfrida. He must have been especially
charming, for she tapped him upon the arm with her fan, after her own
hail-fellow-well-met style, and laughed so loudly that the hall
re-echoed.
The sight was distasteful to Johanna; she withdrew to the nearest
window-recess, leaned her burning forehead against the pane, and looked
out into the dripping rain. A carriage drove into the court-yard; had
not the guests all arrived yet? She recognized the Thalrode hack, and
when the servant, wrapped in a water-proof, who was sitting beside the
driver, looked up, she thought she recognized him, and her heart seemed
to stand still.
"It is not possible," she thought. At that instant Leo rushed out of the
house, barking loudly, leaped down the steps, and had nearly thrown
himself under the wheels of the coach. The door was opened, and Johanna
saw that she had not been mistaken. The Freiherr, assisted by Christian,
got out of it.
How she contrived to leave the ball-room she could not tell. She first
collected her wits when she heard her grandfather's voice on the stairs,
and she hurried to meet him.
"Here is Johanna," he said, coldly. At his departure he had embraced
her; now he only held out his hand, which she kissed, not knowing what
to say.
"I come at an inconvenient time. You have a party,--a dance, I hear. Go,
go; don't let me interrupt it," he growled. "Stop!" he added, as she was
retreating timidly; "I do not wish you to proclaim my arrival with that
ghastly face. It shall not be said that the return of the master of the
house scared away the guests from Doenninghausen. You may tell my sister
that I am here, but no one else, and I will not see even Thekla until
the fiddling is over; then I wish to speak to you all. All,--do you
hear?--to Monsieur Otto especially." With these words he passed on,
accompanied by Leo, who went on barking, whining, and wagging his tail
in a rapture of welcome.
Johanna stood dismayed. From the tone in which the Freiherr spoke, she
saw only too clearly that he knew all. The many sounds from the
ball-room pained her, and when she returned to it she seemed to be
surrounded by the confused images of a dream. She withdrew more
persistently than before into corners and window-recesses, and avoided
Aunt Thekla. In spite of the commission she had received, she could not
make up her mind to mention to her her brother's return. She feared lest
the old lady should be unable to conceal her agitation.
Nevertheless, the intelligence was not long suppressed. Perhaps some one
of the guests had seen the Freiherr arrive, or one of the servants in
spite of his prohibition had mentioned it. Groups were shortly seen
whispering together here and there, Countess Klausenburg gave the signal
for departure unusually early, and half an hour afterward the last
carriage drove out of the court-yard.
When Magelone and Otto, who had been taking leave of the guests, came up
the stairs chatting gayly, they were confronted by Aunt Thekla and
Johanna.
"Do you not know," the old lady asked, "that your grandfather is here?"
"The deuce he is! Then I'm off!" cried Otto.
"It would be just like you!" the Freiherr called out in tones of thunder
from the threshold of the drawing-room door, where his tall figure
appeared at this moment. "Falsehood and cowardice belong together. But
come in; I wish to speak with you all." With these words he stood aside
and let them pass him into the drawing-room, which he then entered,
closing the door after him.
Aunt Thekla collected herself by a mighty effort. "Dear Johann!" she
stammered, "I am delighted to see you here again."
"Delighted? You look so," he growled in reply. "But never mind: the
present is no time for sentiment. Sit down and listen to what I have to
say."
The ladies obeyed. Otto stood leaning against the chimney-piece. The
Freiherr paced the room heavily to and fro. After a pause he said,--
"First, Thekla, let me say that it seems to me rather unbecoming to give
entertainments in my house while I am away. No discussion, I entreat!"
he added, waving his hand forbiddingly. "I know it was not your idea.
Magelone, silly child that she is, probably arranged the nonsense. But
we old people are here to be a check upon the young ones. Instead of
which you aid and abet--not Magelone alone----" He broke off, as was his
custom when he dreaded his own violence, then took a letter from his
pocket with a trembling hand and threw it into his sister's lap. "There,
read that," he said, with difficulty commanding his voice. "Loebel Wolf
offers to buy the jewels you have pawned. It has come to this with the
Doenninghausens; you have brought it to this! And you, Johanna,"--his
tone grew louder and sharper,--"you have proved to me that you do not
possess a spark of filial piety. Family jewels like your grandmother's
bridal _parure_ are not to be thrown away for the sake of such a
scoundrel."
Otto started forward. "Sir," he cried, "pray control yourself. I am an
officer----"
"You have been an officer," the Freiherr corrected him. "To-morrow
morning you will hand in your resignation. The man who forfeits his word
as you have done can no longer wear the king's uniform; or do you dare
deny that you have been gambling again?"
Otto had grown pale. He seemed to wish to speak, but only breathed
heavily and hung his head.
Aunt Thekla felt impelled to interfere. "Dear Johann, I entreat you----"
she began in a trembling voice.
The Freiherr interrupted her. "Hush, Thekla; you understand nothing
about it," he said, harshly.
But she was not to be intimidated. "What will become of the poor boy?"
she asked, softly.
"You are right,--the poor boy!" the Freiherr exclaimed, with a scornful
laugh. "It is strange that such fellows can always wheedle you women.
But make yourself easy, the 'poor boy' will be treated better than he
deserves. He is my grandson, unfortunately; is a Doenninghausen,--I
cannot turn him out into the streets. I will at least give him one more
trial. He shall return to agriculture,--I ought to have insisted upon it
after the war. If he does well, I will, perhaps, give him one of my
estates to farm; if not----" The Freiherr made a backward wave of his
hand as a finish to his sentence, and then went on pacing to and fro,
while no one ventured to speak.
The minutes passed: the ticking of the tall clock had a weird sound in
the stillness; at last the Freiherr stood still. "Let the disgraceful
affair be disposed of as decently as possible," he said. "It must be
announced that Otto leaves the army of his own free choice. To-morrow
morning at eight the fine fellow must come to my room for further
orders. As for the jewels, of course they must be redeemed and restored
to Johanna, but they must be given to me to keep for her until you have
all acquired some sense."
After these words the old Herr strode angrily from the room. Aunt
Thekla, whose bedroom was just underneath her brother's, heard him
pacing to and fro in it until dawn.