A BETROTHAL
The evening passed without any mention by the Freiherr of Otto's note;
Johann Leopold's letter was the absorbing topic. Magelone breathed more
freely; perhaps, after all, her grandfather had not recognized Otto's
handwriting. The note was forgotten, and all danger was over.
She was mistaken. The Freiherr had seen at a glance that the scrawl was
from Otto, and as soon as he found himself alone in his room after
supper he took the note from his pocket to read it again, and decide
what course to take in the matter.
It was not addressed, but the Freiherr was as sure that it was destined
for Johanna as he was that it was written by Otto. It ran thus:
"You torture me, and misunderstand me. I can bear it no longer. Grant
me, I conjure you, one-quarter of an hour's explanation, but not with
Aunt Thekla's eyes looking on; they strike me dumb. Will you await me at
half past ten in the birchen hut? I will come so soon as I have escorted
the Klausenburgs back to K----. Or would you rather it should be
to-morrow morning early, between five and six? Tell me, when will you
hear what I have to say? My only love, you must hear me."
"'Only love,'" the Freiherr repeated, and his brow clouded. How could
Johanna, with her earnest and profound nature, have given this
superficial creature the right to address her thus? and why had pride
and gratitude not prevented her from bringing a new _mesalliance_ upon
Doenninghausen? But what was Doenninghausen to her? She was the child of
her mother, and Agnes, proud, pure, unselfish though she was, had
outraged family honour, duty, and conscience when beguiled by that
scoundrel's whisper of love.
The Freiherr arose and began to pace to and fro. The soft breath of the
summer night wafted in through the open window gradually soothed him. He
told himself that he must hear what Johanna had to say before he
condemned her. It was plain from the note that she was displeased with
Otto. Perhaps he persecuted her, in spite of her efforts to prevent it,
with an affection which she regarded as unjustifiable and misplaced. At
all events, Otto must be brought to reason, and an end put to this fresh
nonsense.
Suddenly the Freiherr stood still; his glance was attracted by a letter
lying beside the lamp on the table,--the letter that he had received
to-day from Johann Leopold,--and the scales seemed to fall from his
eyes. "No, there need be no end," he murmured, continuing his walk. "If
they love each other it might make all things right!"
Johann Leopold's letter had increased the Freiherr's anxiety with regard
to his successor and heir. The strength and improvement which the sick
man had hoped for from his travels had not yet resulted from them.
He regretted that the novelty of his daily impressions so exhausted him
as to leave little room for enjoyment, adding that he had resigned all
hope of ever being able to fill any important position in life, and that
he begged his grandfather no longer to cherish any illusions with regard
to him. If it really should happen that Johann Leopold resigned the
heirship, it must devolve upon Waldemar, since Otto, the next in line of
precedence, had proved only too clearly that he was utterly incapable of
bearing the responsibility of so large an estate. But would he recognize
this fact himself, and join with his grandfather in cutting off the
entail? Endless lawsuits, family dissensions, deterioration of the
property, might be the result of the change; and, moreover, the Freiherr
would thus lay hands upon the right of inheritance, to defend which he
had always held to be the sacred duty of the nobility. But here, in
Otto's attachment to Johanna, a way presented itself out of all his
perplexities. If Otto contracted a _mesalliance_, by so doing he
voluntarily relinquished Doenninghausen, which would devolve of right to
Waldemar and Waldemar's children; Johanna would take the position in the
family which her grandfather desired for her, and--better than all--if
she loved Otto she was the one woman to give him firmness and steadiness
of character. The lovely legend of the redeeming power of love, which
has beguiled so many a youthful heart, was here a siren song in the ears
of an old man, singing his doubts and cares to sleep.
The next morning early the Freiherr sent to Klausenburg for Otto, who
made his appearance without delay.
"It is terrible to be persecuted by misfortune as I am," he said to
himself, as he went up-stairs. "Every stupidity I commit comes to the
old man's ears, and he instantly falls foul of me. And what have I done,
after all? I should like to know whether Johann Leopold and Waldemar
have not had their escapades too? But everything always goes smoothly
and calmly for them, while I am just like that wretched animal--I think
it was a goat--which the Phoenicians, or Assyrians, or somebody,
loaded with all their sins and drove into the wilderness."
Thus conscious of his martyrdom, he presented himself before his
grandfather, who was seated at his study-table awaiting him.
After the first salutations the Freiherr requested him to take a chair
beside him. His face was stern, but did not wear the expression of
annihilating contempt which Otto had seen upon it more than once.
"This note, which an odd chance has put into my hands, was written by
you," the old Herr began, holding out the unlucky scrap of paper. "I
should like to know to whom?"
Otto looked down. Could he betray Magelone? Impossible! But it was just
as impossible to do as she wished and mention Johanna.
"Pardon me, I cannot tell you," the young man replied.
The Freiherr knitted his brows. "In this matter your discretion is the
merest make-believe. The note was written to Johanna,--that is clear.
Has she seen it?"
"On my honour, she neither has seen it nor ever would have seen it----"
"Prevarication--forever!" the Freiherr interrupted, impatiently.
"Whether she has seen it or not, you wrote it to her, and I ask you what
right you have to entreat her for an interview and to call her what you
do here?"
The Freiherr handed him the note. Otto, who remembered its contents
imperfectly, saw clearly that there was no way to save Magelone except
by acting upon his grandfather's unconscious hint; but the falsehood
would not come glibly. He looked down mute, while the Freiherr arose and
paced to and fro in increasing impatience. Suddenly he paused in front
of his grandson. "Is there an understanding between you?" he asked.
"No," Otto replied, in a tone that carried conviction with it.
After a pause his grandfather asked again, "Do you think your affection
is reciprocated?"
"I--I do not know," Otto stammered.
"Nonsense! You must know!" the Freiherr roared, now thoroughly
indignant. "You're not so over-modest, and when it is a question of your
whole future life----or, can it be?"--and his eyes flashed fire from
beneath his bushy brows,--"have you dared to trifle with Johanna? In
that case, my boy, you will answer it to _me_. Johanna is my daughter's
child, and a Doenninghausen, even although she does not bear the name."
Otto sat as if spell-bound by his grandfather's angry eyes. "I assure
you----" he began at last.
"No fine phrases!" the Freiherr interrupted him again, but far more
gently. "Prove that you are in earnest. Put an end to misunderstandings,
and you shall have my blessing."
Otto started up. He had prepared himself to endure violent reproaches
and perhaps temporary banishment from Doenninghausen, but to be obliged
to betroth himself--to Johanna! What would his former comrades, what
would the Klausenburg sisters, above all, what would Magelone say?
"My dear sir," he stammered, as all this flashed through his brain like
lightning, "how is this possible? My affairs----"
"Are certainly not in a condition to make you a very brilliant match,"
the Freiherr sarcastically completed his sentence. "But Johanna is
magnanimous. If she loves you, she will not be calculating. Her maternal
inheritance is not large, but it will suffice to make you modestly
independent----"
"My dear sir, neither am I calculating," Otto interposed.
The Freiherr laughed contemptuously. "I scarcely need to be told that;
but all these are secondary considerations. The point at issue is
whether Johanna feels sufficient affection and esteem for you to allow
of her intrusting to you her future, and to this question you must ask
the answer yourself. You can do it immediately. I have nothing more to
say to you."
Otto arose. "The affair is not so easily disposed of as you seem to
think," he rejoined, with a forced smile. "I must first make my peace
with Johanna----"
"What is the quarrel between you? Yesterday you thought a quarter of an
hour enough----" The Freiherr broke off, and added, frowning, "Stay
here. I will send for Johanna. I must see myself how matters stand
between you. She shall not be sacrificed." He rang the bell, desired the
servant to ask Fraeulein Johanna to come to him, and then continued to
pace the apartment.
Otto went to the window. He was indignant. His cheeks glowed, his pulses
throbbed. "Magelone is right," he thought. "My grandfather is infatuated
with regard to Johanna. Sacrificed, indeed--to me! And to have to listen
and submit,--bind myself for life!" But perhaps it would not come to
that. Johanna might refuse him. The actor's daughter refuse a Freiherr
von Doenninghausen! He bit his lips to keep from laughing aloud in scorn
and anger.
Then he heard the door open, and as involuntarily he looked round,
Johanna entered the room. She glanced in some distress from her
grandfather to Otto. It was plain that there had been a tempest here.
The Freiherr requested her to sit down, and then walked once or twice to
and fro in silence. He suddenly found what had seemed before so simple
difficult to put into words. At last his eye fell upon Otto's note on
the table, and he gave it to her. "This note," he said, with a frown,
"which was destined for you, has fallen into my hands and acquainted me
with matters of which I had not the faintest suspicion,--a state of
affairs that must be arranged without delay. I hope you will lighten my
task for me by perfect frankness. First, read it."
She did so. He saw her astonishment turn to painful embarrassment, and
as she dropped the note in her lap he felt sorry for her and wished to
help her. "Do not think, my child, that I am angry with you," he said
more kindly, taking a seat opposite her. "I only want a frank confession
of how matters stand between Otto and yourself, and what you have done
to put such nonsense into his head,--meetings at night in the garden
when you might talk together all day long. What does it mean? Speak!"
His voice had grown more angry, and his eyes flashed. "Speak! speak!" he
repeated, while she struggled for composure, which, however, she
attained.
"My dear grandfather," she said, "I assure you that I do not myself
understand----"
Otto did not allow her to proceed. Stepping forward so that he stood
beside the Freiherr and confronted her, he said, quickly, "Dear Johanna,
forgive the thoughtlessness that has caused you this painful scene. Your
repulse of me yesterday in the forest made me frantic. I could no longer
endure our alienation."
Johanna, who had been looking up at him, cast down her eyes beneath his
ardent gaze. Her pulses throbbed: she trembled.
"I know," Otto went on, and the more he said the more he talked himself
into a certain sincerity,--"I know that my conduct towards you has often
been such as to justify misapprehension; but all my shortcomings were
owing to my feeling insecure of your regard. Forgive me, Johanna.
Believe in me as you did formerly; trust me again----"
The Freiherr sprang up. "Is there to be no end of all this?" he cried.
"Come to the point, man, if you can; and if not, let some one else speak
for you. Johanna, my child," he went on more gently, "I have already
seen that Otto is not regarded by you with indifference; but the
question is,--and I pray you to take serious counsel with yourself
before you reply,--is your feeling for him strong enough to overcome his
weakness and folly, and can you trust him to make you happy, that your
marriage may be such as is commanded of God and worthy of our name? If
you can say 'yes' to all this, dear child, I will give you my blessing
from the very bottom of my heart."
As his grandfather spoke, Otto had stepped to Johanna's side and taken
her hand. "Johanna," he whispered, bending over her when the Freiherr
paused, "you cannot doubt, you cannot hesitate; be mine you must!"
The Freiherr, too, now approached her, and there was such a fulness of
love and happiness in the tearful eyes that she raised to his own that
he clasped her in his arms with a fervent "God bless you, my child! God
bless you both!" he continued, as he put her hand into Otto's; and as
the young man received his trembling betrothed in his arms, he really
felt that he had gained what had long been the object of his desire.