"It is perfectly unprecedented! Such a thing was never heard of! I
cannot believe my own eyes! This undermines all government, saps the
foundations of all authority, shakes the very pillars of the State. It
is horrible--horrible!"
Thus, in a burst of noble pathos, did the Councillor unburthen himself
of his pent-up indignation, addressing the Superintendent of Police,
who was just coming down the stairs from an interview with the
Governor.
"Do you mean the disturbances in the town?" asked the latter, with a
slight and rather scornful smile. "Yes, it was rather noisy down there
last night, certainly."
"Who is thinking of the town?" cried the Councillor. "Those
disturbances go for nothing. It is the mere rioting of a mob, which can
be subjugated, which will be subjugated, by military aid, if necessary.
But when revolutionary ideas invade official circles--when men, whose
business it is to represent and to support the Government, attack it in
such a way as this, there is an end to all order. Who would have
thought it of Assessor Winterfeld! A young man who has been looked on
as a model to the whole Civil Service! I, indeed, have always had my
suspicions of him. His questionable loyalty, his bias in favour of the
Opposition, his treasonable connections, have long inspired uneasiness
in my mind; and on several occasions I have expressed as much to his
Excellency, but he would not listen. He had a predilection for the
Assessor. Quite lately even, by getting him transferred to the capital,
he opened to this favoured subaltern the most brilliant prospects; and
now the traitor rewards him by the blackest ingratitude."
"Ah, you are alluding to Winterfeld's pamphlet!" said the
Superintendent. "Have you had the book in your hands already? Why, it
can only have reached R---- this morning."
"I got it accidentally, from a colleague who had just received it. A
most abominable composition! It is open rebellion, sir--open rebellion!
There are things in it addressed to his Excellency--things ... Well, I
don't know how such a work came to be printed and circulated. Have you
taken no steps to suppress it?"
"I have no orders and no motive for doing so," declared the
Superintendent, whose coolness formed a strange contrast to Moser's
indignant excitement. "The pamphlet was brought out in the capital, and
there was not time, I suppose, to prevent its circulation. Besides,
such unpalatable publications are no longer suppressed in a summary
manner, as was the custom formerly. Times have changed. As to this
brochure, I am quite of your opinion. I doubt if a more virulent attack
has ever been made on a statesman holding office under the Crown."
"And it comes from a member of the Service, from one who has worked
under my eyes, in my bureaux!" cried the Councillor, in despair. "But
he has been seduced, led astray. I always told him that his connection
with that clique of Swiss Socialists would bring him to ruin. I know
who is at the bottom of the whole business--who is alone to blame for
this scandal. It is that Dr. Brunnow who has been staying here for
weeks, under pretext of settling some succession business, and who has
not yet taken his departure."
"Because in his case there has been even more than the usual
circumlocution. Endless difficulties have been raised touching this
matter of his reversion. The gentlemen of the law-courts have, with
rather unnecessary severity, let him feel the drawbacks under which he
labours in being his father's son and, for the time being,
representative. Finding this, he set upon them a little while ago, and
subjected them to so drastic a treatment, that they were quite taken
aback, and now really seem as if they meant to hasten on the affair.
You have a prejudice against the young doctor, Councillor. He is not
such a bad fellow as you think."
"This Brunnow is a most dangerous man," said the Councillor, all his
wonted solemnity returning to him with this topic. "I knew it from the
first day I saw him, and my instinct in such matters is infallible.
Since he has been in our midst, we have had these troubles in the town,
open resistance to the appointed authorities; and now comes this
printed assault on his Excellency. I hold to my opinion: this man came
to R---- with the intention of setting the city, the province, ay, the
whole land in a blaze of insurrection."
"Why not say the whole of Europe, while you are about it!" exclaimed
the Superintendent, impatiently. "You are completely mistaken. Merely
on account of the name he bears, we have kept an eye on the young man,
and I can assure you he has not given the slightest cause for any such
suspicions. He has entered into no political relations here, and took
part neither directly nor indirectly in the late disturbances; he just
simply attends to his own private affairs. If I, as head of the police,
can bear him this testimony, you may, I think, admit and put faith in
it."
"But he is the son of an old revolutionary democrat," persisted the
Councillor; "and he is an intimate friend of Assessor Winterfeld's."
"What does that prove? His father was once an intimate friend of the
Governor here."
"Wh--what?" cried Moser, starting back. "His Excellency Baron von Raven
and that man Rudolph Brunnow----"
"Were university chums, bosom friends even. I have it from the best
source. I suppose you are not going to accuse Baron von Raven of
socialist, revolutionary tendencies. But my time is limited, I must be
off. Good-morning, Councillor."
So saying, the Superintendent turned his back on the worthy Councillor,
who was standing dazed with surprise, and left the Government-house. On
his way to the town he encountered the Burgomaster.
"You come from the Castle?" asked the latter. "Have you seen the
Governor? What has he determined on doing?"
The other shrugged his shoulders.
"What he threatened yesterday--he will proceed with the utmost rigour.
If there is any repetition of the riots, the troops will be called out.
All the necessary preparations are made. Precisely as I was leaving,
Colonel Wilten came in to consult with him personally on the subject,
and there can be no doubt as to the result of the conference. You know
the Baron. He will recoil from no measures which may effect his
purpose."
"This must not be," said the Burgomaster, uneasily. "The popular
exasperation is so great that any display of military force would only
add fuel to the flame. There would be resistance and bloodshed. I had
made up my mind not to set foot in the Castle again, unless absolutely
compelled to go there; but now I think I must make one last attempt to
dissuade them from any extreme course."
"I would advise you not to go," returned the Superintendent. "I can
tell you beforehand, you will get nothing by it. The Baron is not in a
forbearing mood to-day. He has had news which will ruffle his temper
for weeks to come."
"I know," put in the other. "Assessor Winterfeld's pamphlet. I received
it from the capital this morning."
"What, you have heard of it too? Well, I must say they have lost no
time in circulating the book. They seem to have feared it might be
suppressed, and to have done what they could to forestall the edict. I
think there were no grounds for the apprehension, however. It looks
very much as though in high places the intention were to let the matter
take its course."
"Really; and what says Raven to all this? The attack can hardly have
come upon him unawares. He must have received some hint of what was
brewing."
"I am afraid he received no hint whatever. His whole manner betrays the
fact that he has been taken by surprise. He wraps himself in his usual
reserve, but he cannot altogether conceal that he is perturbed and
frightfully irritated. My allusions to the matter in question were met
so ungraciously that I thought it better to drop the subject. It is
really an unprecedented attack, and an outrageously imprudent one
into the bargain. When such opinions are to be disseminated among the
people, they are generally given to the public in an anonymous form.
The author lets the first fury of the storm wear itself out before he
gives his name; he allows himself to be sought out and divined, and
only emerges from his retirement when obliged or encouraged so to do.
But the Assessor signs in full, and leaves no doubt to the world in
general, and the Governor in particular, as to who is the assailant. I
can't think how he has found courage to challenge his whilom chief in
this manner. He throws down the gauntlet to him in the face of the
whole country--the book is one long accusation from beginning to end."
"And from beginning to end it is one long truth," answered the
Burgomaster, warmly. "This young man puts us all to shame. What he has
now ventured to do, should have been done long ago. When the resistance
of a whole city proves fruitless, when all appeals to the Government
fail, the dispute should be brought before the forum of public opinion,
and there decided. Winterfeld has been clear-sighted enough to see
this, and courageous enough to speak the first word. Now that the way
has been thrown open for them, all will be ready to follow him."
"Yes, but he is hazarding his position and very livelihood on the die,"
remarked the Superintendent. "This pamphlet of his goes too far, and
brilliantly as it is written, its author will have to smart for it.
Raven is not the man to allow himself to be insulted and attacked with
impunity. This bold knight-errant may find himself worsted in the
tourney. He may fall a victim to his own audacity."
"Or he may at a blow demolish the Governor's supremacy. But, however
the affair may end, it is sure to make a tremendous sensation; and here
in R---- it will be the spark to fire the powder-train."
"I am afraid so too," assented the police magnate. "It stands to reason
that the Baron will go all lengths now, in order to remain master of
the situation. Well, whatever he may do, will be done at his own risk
and peril."
While the two gentlemen thus discoursed, going on their way together,
the conference, to which allusion had been made, was being pursued
between the Governor and Colonel Wilten, in the former's private study.
The topic under discussion must have been one of importance, for the
Colonel looked exceedingly grave. Raven was, to all appearance,
unmoved; the ashy paleness of his countenance and the deep furrows of
his knitted brow alone betrayed that some unusually disturbing
influence had been at work. His bearing and speech were, as ever,
perfectly assured and under control.
"The thing is settled," he said. "You will hold the troops in readiness
for an immediate intervention, and you will proceed unsparingly, should
resistance be offered. I will take the responsibility and all the
possible consequences on myself."
"If it must be ... it must," replied the Colonel. "You know my
scruples, and I do not disguise from you that, in case of any
difficulty arising, I shall leave the responsibility of this step with
you."
"I hold myself answerable, solely and entirely. This rebellious city of
R---- must be reduced to submission, be the cost what it may. It is now
more than ever incumbent on me to uphold my authority. It must not be
thought for a moment that the mischievous blow which has been directed
against me has had power to slacken my rein."
"What blow?" asked the Colonel.
"You have not heard the latest news from the capital?"
"No; as you are aware, I have only been back in town a few hours."
Raven rose, and paced rapidly up and down the room. When he returned
and stood before the Colonel, his agitation could be read in his
features, in spite of all his efforts to keep it down.
"I recommend you, then, to read Assessor Winterfeld's pamphlet," he
said, in a tone which was meant to be only sarcastic, but which
vibrated with fierce anger. "He feels himself appointed to denounce me
to the country at large as a despot who regards neither law nor
justice, who has become a scourge, a pestilent source of harm, to the
province committed to his charge. A long list of crimes is therein
imputed to me; abuse of power, arbitrary action, illegal violence, and
all the usual catchwords. It really is worth while to read the precious
composition, if only to marvel at the presumption with which one of the
youngest and lowliest of my subalterns ventures to arraign his chief.
So far, only a chosen few have cognisance of this brochure; to-morrow,
the whole town will ring with it."
"But why do you take it so quietly?" exclaimed the Colonel. "These
things do not spring up in a day, of themselves. You must have been
prepared for it--have had news of what was coming."
"Oh yes; the news reached me yesterday evening, just about the time
that the book was being hawked about the streets of the capital, and
when many copies of it were on their way hither. The same courier
brought me an assurance of the Minister's 'sincere regret' that it had
not been possible to prevent the publication; the matter had now gone
too far for suppression."
"That is strange!" said Wilten, in surprise.
"More than strange. They are generally well informed at head-quarters
as to all that is in the press, and they do not readily suffer anything
to appear that is likely to prove dangerous. With the work in question,
there could have been no difficulty. They had only to consider the
insults offered to me as levelled at the Government, and to suppress
the entire edition. But it seems that the will so to act was wanting,
and as they feared that I should energetically insist on such a course
being pursued, they purposely left me in complete ignorance of the
matter, and only warned me when it was too late for the intimation to
be of use."
The Colonel looked down meditatively.
"You have few friends in the capital and at court--I told you so months
ago. There are constant intrigues on foot against you there, and no
stone is left unturned to damage your credit and undermine your
influence. If a fitting instrument has been found ready to hand ...
Assessor Winterfeld is engaged at the Ministry now, I think?"
"Yes," said the Baron, bitterly. "I opened its doors to him. I myself
sent my denunciator to the capital."
"They have got hold of the young man at once, it being known that he
came direct from your Chancellery. Perhaps he only contributes his
name, and the onslaught really comes from a far different quarter."
Raven shook his head moodily.
"He is no instrument in the hands of others; he acts spontaneously, and
the scheme cannot have been concocted in the few weeks which have
elapsed since he left R----. The book is the result of much thought and
labour. It has taken months, perhaps years, to prepare. Here in my own
bureaux, under my very eyes, the plan of it has been sketched out and
designed. Every word shows that it has been slowly, carefully written."
"And the Assessor never betrayed himself to you or any one?" asked
Wilten. "He must have had associates, confidential friends."
The Baron's lips worked, and his eyes were fixed on the window-recess
from which Gabrielle had yesterday stepped forth to welcome him.
"One of his confidants I know, at least," he said; "and that one shall
render account to me. As to the young man himself--well, we shall see
later on. There can be but one manner of settling such a matter between
us two. Just at present I have to reckon with other enemies. It is of
little consequence that an Assessor Winterfeld should rise up in
virtuous indignation, and declare me a tyrant and my tenure of office a
public calamity--others have done this before him. But that he should
venture to cry it aloud in the ears of all the world, that such a
venture should be tolerated, perhaps encouraged--this is what gives a
serious colour, a certain importance, to the affair. I shall at once
demand ample satisfaction from the Government, which is attacked with
me and in my person; and should they show signs of refusing it, I shall
know how to bring them to reason. It is not the first time I have had
to set a plain alternative before these gentlemen. I have frequently
found it necessary to clear the air a little by some sharp, decided
action when the intrigues became too annoying to be borne in silence."
"You take too grave a view of the matter," said the Colonel,
reassuringly; "and it is strange in you, who generally meet every
attack with absolute, unruffled calm. Why do you now allow yourself to
be irritated by mere lies and calumnies?"
The Baron drew himself up proudly.
"Who says they are lies? The animus which pervades the book is stamped
on every page, but it does not contain palpable untruths, and I have no
intention of calling in question one of the facts adduced against me. I
am ready to answer for my acts, but only to those who are entitled to
require an account from me, and not to the first man who may feel
disposed to sit in judgment on me and my proceedings. To him and to his
fellows, I shall give the one answer they deserve."
At this point of the conversation they were interrupted. A report was
brought in to the Governor, which the Superintendent of Police had just
sent over from the town. Colonel Wilten rose to depart.
"I will go and see that the measures we have agreed upon are taken at
once. The Baroness arrived safely, I hope? She came with us to town,
but declined our escort up to the Castle. And how is Fraeulein von
Harder? She must have seen something of the rioting last night."
"I do not know," said Raven shortly, almost roughly. "I have not seen
her to-day, and I was too busy to receive my sister-in-law in person. I
shall go over to them a little later."
He gave his hand to the Colonel, who, after a few parting words, left
the room, while the Baron returned to his writing-table, on which last
night's despatches still lay, and began a letter to the Minister.
Baroness Harder had reached the Castle some hours previously, and had
been received by her daughter alone, a circumstance which had given
umbrage to the lady. It argued, she said, great disrespect on her
brother-in-law's part that he could not tear himself away from his
business, for a few minutes at least, to welcome her. And to this other
annoyances were added. The cold from which she had been suffering for
several days past had been increased by the drive through the morning
air. Madame von Harder declared herself to be very ill, and at once
retired to her bedroom to get a little rest, giving orders that she was
on no account to be disturbed--this to the intense relief of her
daughter, who was thus again left free to pursue her troubled thoughts.
Gabrielle had, indeed, hardly been able to conceal from her mother the
agitation and anxiety which were consuming her. The Baron had not shown
himself all day; he had even sent in an excuse at breakfast-time. She
knew that, in consequence of last night's events, he had been
incessantly occupied from early morning, that special messengers had
pressed on each other's heels, and that audiences and conferences
without respite were being held in his study; but she knew also that,
in spite of everything, he would find time, must find time, to come to
her, if only for a few minutes. "Until to-morrow." The words, spoken
with passionate tenderness, still rang in her ears. The morning had
come; all the forenoon had passed. Raven did not appear; he sent no
word, no line, and a very mountain-load of care seemed to weigh on the
young girl's heart. What could have happened?
Twelve o'clock struck. Gabrielle was sitting alone in her mother's
little boudoir, when at length she really heard, in the anteroom, the
quick steady steps which a hundred times that morning she had heard in
fancy. She drew a deep breath, and listened with a beating heart. Her
cheeks, so pale a minute before, were dyed now a deep crimson. Anxiety,
care, apprehension, all were forgotten in this moment, as the door
opened and the Baron came in.
"I wish to speak to you," he said briefly, without any preface. "Are we
alone?"
Gabrielle bent her head affirmatively. Her impulse had been to hasten
towards him; but she stopped, confounded by his tone, which grated
oddly, harshly on her ear. Now, looking more closely, she saw the
strange change that had come over his features. This was not the Arno
Raven who had yesterday held her in his arms and poured out to her the
tale of his love, with an ardour and a passion which had metamorphosed
the man's whole being, inspiring her with warmth and tenderness. To-day
he stood before her gloomy, reserved, icily severe. The lips which had
given utterance to those fervent, loving words were firmly set; in the
dark, rigid countenance no trace could be seen of the play of feeling
which had yesterday irradiated it, and the eyes flashed fiercely,
menacingly, as they met the young girl's timid gaze.
"You expected me earlier, perhaps," went on the Baron. "I had need of
some time to make myself acquainted with certain--certain
communications which had reached me, and I felt that our present
interview would come soon enough. It is unnecessary for me to enter
into explanations, for, though not generally familiar with my official
concerns, on this occasion you probably know as well as I do what has
occurred."
"I? No," said Gabrielle, with failing breath. "How should I know?"
"Do you mean to deny it? But of this we will speak later. In the first
place, I must ask what led you to enter on this miserable comedy, the
farcical part of which was reserved for me? Beware, Gabrielle. As I
told you yesterday, I have but little talent for such a _role_. The man
who is duped and betrayed is only ridiculous while he patiently endures
it. I am not inclined to do this. The sorry game you have played with
me will be fraught with danger both to yourself and to another."
"But what do you mean? I do not understand you," cried the girl, whose
distress was momentarily increasing.
Raven came close up to her, and fixed a keen, searching gaze on her
countenance.
"What was the meaning of those warning words which you whispered to me
yesterday, as we drove home? How did you know that I was in any way
threatened, and why did you start and turn deadly pale when that
courier from the capital was announced? Speak; I insist upon an
answer."
Gabrielle listened with growing consternation. She began to suspect
whither these questions tended, but was quite in the dark as to the
event that had prompted them. Raven must have seen that she did not
understand him, for he drew the pamphlet from his breast-pocket and
threw it on the table.
"This little book will perhaps help your memory. It is the most
contumelious, the most astounding attack which has ever been made upon
me. You probably read it in an unfinished state; it has, no doubt, been
completed, perfected in the capital, in the Ministerial bureaux. Do not
look at me as though I were speaking in some foreign tongue. This name,
which stands on the title-page, is, I think, not unknown to you."
Gabrielle had taken up the pamphlet mechanically. Her eye fell on the
page mentioned, on the name inscribed thereon. She started: "From
George? He has kept his word!"
"Kept his word?" repeated Raven, with a bitter laugh. "So you had his
word for it. You were his confidante, his confederate? But, indeed, how
could I doubt it for an instant? It was clear from the first--clear as
the noonday sun."
The young girl was too stunned and confused to defend herself with
skill or energy. The unfortunate exclamation which had escaped her
could but confirm the Baron in his suspicion that she had been an
accomplice.
"I had a presentiment of some coming evil," she replied, summoning up
all her courage; "but I knew nothing decided. I thought----"
Raven did not let her finish. He grasped her hand, and held it tightly.
"Had you really no suspicion that there was some scheme on foot to
injure me? Were the hints you let fall yesterday purely accidental and
devoid of any special aim? Did it not occur to you, when those
despatches were brought in upon us in hot haste, that perhaps 'some one
had kept his word?' Look me in the face, and say it was not so. I will
try to believe you."
Gabrielle was silent. She could not answer in the negative, and the
thought that, in truth, she had known of George's intention, at least,
robbed her of her presence of mind. The low words which the young man
had spoken when parting from her acquired a fatal importance now; they
weighed on the young girl, and seemed to crush her with a sense of
guilt.
Raven's eyes had never quitted her face. His fingers slowly relaxed; he
let her hand fall, and stepped back.
"So you knew it," he said; "and with that knowledge you stood quietly
by and saw me wrestle with a senseless passion; saw me finally succumb
to the weakness. You allowed me to believe that my affection was
returned, and so pricked me on to madness, while secretly you were
counting the days and hours to the time when the blow--the mortal blow,
as you fancied, should strike me. Certain of a future triumph, you
could yesterday let me fold you to my breast and speak to you words of
love. By Heaven! it is too much, too much!"
His voice was still constrained and low, but something in it foretold
the coming outbreak.
Gabrielle felt herself powerless, defenceless, against his accusations.
She made an attempt, however, to meet and refute them.
"Hear me, Arno. You are mistaken. I have not deceived you, nor betrayed
you. If I knew anything----"
"Say no more!" he interrupted her, with terrible vehemence. "I will
hear nothing. I know enough. Your silence just now spoke more plainly
than words. Justify your conduct to him, to your 'George;' confess to
him that you could not keep his secret to the last moment. He will
perhaps forgive you. The warning would, any way, have come too late.
This I will own, I did him an injustice in declaring him to be a
commonplace person, not above the ordinary run of men. Evidently he is
not afraid to leave accustomed grooves, to undertake feats which no one
has ventured on before him, and which no one, I think, in future will
care to emulate. He may possibly make his way with it, this young
Assessor whom yesterday nobody knew, and whose name will to-morrow be
in everybody's mouth, simply because he has had the audacity to whet
his sword and attack me. But he will pay dearly for the notoriety, I
give you my word for that. As yet I have never feared a foe, nor shrunk
from a contest, and this onslaught would have moved me as little as the
rest. The thought that you were in league with him, that you--_you_ had
betrayed me, this, and only this, it is which has procured my enemies
the satisfaction and triumph of seeing me for once thrown off my
balance."
His voice faltered a little as he spoke the last words. Through the
man's fierce wrath at seeing himself, as he believed, wounded in his
love as in his honour, came the sharp quivering pang of an exceeding
bitter pain. At this tone Gabrielle forgot all else. She flew to him,
laid her two hands on his arm, and would have spoken, have implored;
but it was useless. With a rough, angry movement he freed himself,
thrusting her from him.
"Go! I have been a fool, I own, but the illusion is dispelled now. I
will not let myself be lured on a second time by those eyes, which have
lied to me once with their feigned anxiety and tenderness. Tell your
George he has not well reflected what it is to challenge me to single
combat. He will soon make the experience. Between us two all is over,
now and for ever!"
He went. The door fell to behind him with a crash, and Gabrielle
remained alone. She looked down at the pamphlet lying on the table, at
the name printed thereon, but saw neither. Echoing and re-echoing
through her mind in dismal iteration came those last cruel words. Ah,
yes; all was over now, now and for ever!
The fears entertained that fresh disturbances might break out in the
town were but too speedily realised. All the military measures had been
taken in the most ostensible manner possible, it being hoped that they
would intimidate the population; they had, however, a contrary effect,
and only served to increase the general bitter animosity against the
Governor. A low ferment of discontent had been going on for months; but
the popular demonstrations of ill-feeling had only assumed a serious
character within the last few days. Signs of the hostile spirit
prevailing throughout the city had not been wanting, but there had
previously been no attempt at open insurrection. People in R---- had so
long been accustomed to bow to the Governor's will, it was not easy for
them to shake off the habit. Moreover, the Baron's temper was pretty
accurately known. It was felt that neither weakness nor concessions
were to be expected from him--so for weeks the citizens contented
themselves with grumbling and murmuring their dissatisfaction. The
energetic inflexible mind in authority over them exerted its wonted
sway. So far, Raven had restrained the threatening elements, and held
the storm in check. By his personal intervention he had quelled a riot
and dispersed the rebellious masses; but, even in that hour of apparent
success, it had been made evident to him that his power was on the
wane.
Things now seemed to have reached a crisis. Much exasperation was felt
at the arrests which had been made by the Baron's order some days
before, and at the extreme harshness and rigour with which the
offenders were treated. By this incident the long-smouldering fire was
fanned to a flame. A tumult was raised with a view to release the
captives, and when the attempt failed, and the Governor still opposed
to all the popular protests and all the importunate clamouring the same
unvarying resolute answer, the agitation, which had been temporarily
allayed, broke out afresh with redoubled force.
Evening had come again. The Government-house was in a state of turmoil
and excitement. Every door, even to the main entrance, was barred and
guarded. The panic-stricken servants thronged the corridors and
staircases, and outside, before the long line of windows, glittered a
file of bayonets. A strong detachment of troops was stationed round the
Castle-hill, the soldiers having arrived in time to secure the
Governor's residence from attack. The roads leading to it had been
cleared, and the crowd driven back; but the uproar in the neighbouring
streets had increased proportionably, and at any moment a collision
between the armed force and the populace might be expected.
The Governor's apartments were the focus of all the busy movement.
Messages flowed in one upon the other; police officers and orderlies
came and went. Councillor Moser had hurried to the side of his chief,
who was to him a stronghold and rock of defence in every time of
danger. Lieutenant Wilten, appointed to command the Castle garrison,
was with the Baron, and an ambassador from the insurgent camp was also
present--the worthy Burgomaster, who had come up the hill, resolved on
making that last attempt which in the morning he had been induced to
forego.
Raven himself stood cool and unmoved in the midst of all this hurry and
commotion. He listened to the reports and gave his orders, not for an
instant disturbed from his perfect equanimity; but those about him had
never seen his face so hard, so rigidly set, as on this evening. The
stormy passages of the last four-and-twenty hours had, no doubt, helped
to grave that harsh inexorable expression on his features; but whatever
internal struggles he might have fought through, whatever he might have
suffered since the preceding evening, to all bystanders he was the same
haughty imperturbable Baron von Raven, in whose armour there was no
joint, from whom those shafts glanced innocuously which would have
shattered the strength of ordinary men.
"For the last time I beg, I demand of you to abstain from these extreme
measures. There is yet time--as yet no blood has been shed. In another
quarter of an hour it may be too late. It is said you have given orders
that no mercy is to be shown. I cannot, will not believe this."
"Am I to allow the castle to be taken by a _coup de main_?" the Baron
interrupted him. "Am I to wait until the entrance is stormed and I am
insulted here in my own apartments? I think I have sufficiently shown
how distasteful it is to me to take precautions for my own personal
safety, but I have to answer for the safety of others, and, above all,
I have to guard the Government-house from any chance of attack. This is
my simple duty, and I intend to perform it."
"We have here to do with a mere demonstration; there is no question of
an attack," declared the Burgomaster. "But no matter; you say the
Castle must be protected and the crowds driven back. Well, this has
been done; the Castle-hill is lined with troops--let that suffice. The
agitation down yonder is perfectly harmless, and will die out of
itself, if left a free course."
"Colonel Wilten will clear the streets," said Raven, coldly. "Should
resistance be offered, he will resort to arms."
"That would lead to incalculable trouble. All the outlets to the Castle
road are beset by the military; the people are hedged in on every side,
and could not take to flight. Do not let it come to this, your
Excellency. Hundreds of lives are at stake."
"The order and safety of the town are at stake, and they may no longer
remain at the mercy of this rabble." There was an uncompromising,
determined ring in the Baron's voice. "I have dallied long enough,
postponing this measure. Now it has been decided on, and will be
carried into execution. If the streets are cleared at once, without
opposition, there is no reason for uneasiness; in the opposite case,
the consequences must be on the heads of the insurgents."
At this moment the door was opened, and the Superintendent of police
came in.
"Well, how goes it?"
"I have withdrawn my men from the principal centres," replied the
functionary addressed. "We can do no more. The excitement is increasing
every minute; it seems they mean to resist. I have just had some
wounded men brought up to the Castle. There was no possibility of
getting them transported to the town. They must be taken in here for
the present."
"How is it there are wounded already?" asked the Burgomaster. "Ten
minutes ago, when I came up the hill, there had been no collision with
the troops."
"These casualties occurred some time ago, before the soldiers were
called out, while we were bearing the brunt alone. Two of my men got
very roughly handled then, and, unfortunately, a third person was
injured, one in no way concerned in the row, a doctor who had come to
the rescue and applied bandages to the wounded. He had finished his
work and was going off, when one of the stones, which were falling
thick and fast, struck him and felled him to the earth. It is that Dr.
Brunnow of whom we were speaking this morning," added the
Superintendent, turning to Councillor Moser.
"Who?" asked Raven, quickly. He had caught the last words.
"A young doctor who has been staying here for the last few weeks. Max
Brunnow by name. His father lives in Switzerland, whither he had to fly
for political motives. He took a prominent part in the last
revolution."
The Superintendent let fall these remarks in an easy and, apparently,
pointless manner; but as he spoke, he kept a vigilant watch on the
Baron. He alone saw the almost imperceptible change of colour, and
heard the slight tremour of emotion in the question:
"Is the young man's wound serious?"
"I fear so--perhaps even mortal. He lies in a state of unconsciousness.
The stone struck him on the head."
"Every attention shall be given to the wounded man;" the Baron stepped
towards the door, but bethought himself, and paused. The Burgomaster's
look of surprise, and the keen, observant glance of the lynx-eyed
Superintendent, no doubt reminded him that this sudden show of sympathy
on his part was in too glaring contrast to that indifference to the
loss of human life he had hitherto manifested. "I will myself give all
needful orders," he added slowly, and laid his hand on the bell.
"The major-domo has already made every arrangement, and has shown the
utmost thoughtfulness. It is unnecessary that you should trouble
yourself, your Excellency."
The Baron walked up to the window in silence. Why was the name of his
old friend and companion recalled to his memory just at this moment?
Was he to take it as a warning, a reminder that he himself, Arno Raven,
had once belonged to those rebels whom he now declared himself ready to
shoot down? A long pause followed, during which many critical minutes
sped by.
"I will return to the town," said the Burgomaster breaking the silence
at length. "Am I to take those words as your Excellency's final
decision?"
The Baron turned. The shade of some inward conflict was on his face, as
he replied:
"Colonel Wilten has the command in the town. I cannot interfere with
his plans. The military arrangements rest with him."
"But the Colonel acts under your instructions. A word from you, and he
will refrain from active intervention, at least. Speak the word. We are
all waiting for it, earnestly desiring it."
Again some seconds passed. Deep furrows gathered on Raven's brow as he
stood thinking. Suddenly he drew himself up and called the young
officer to him.
"Lieutenant Wilten, can you leave your post here at the Castle for a
quarter of an hour? I would ask you to go over to your father
yourself."
He paused and listened. From the town there came a sound, distant but
not to be mistaken--the crackle of firearms.
"Good God! those are shots!" cried Councillor Moser, starting up in
terror, while the two men at his side hurried to the window.
The darkness prevented their seeing anything, but sight was superfluous
in this case. A second, a third time came the sharp, quick, cracking
sound--then all was still.
"The message would be useless now," said the young officer in a low
voice, addressing the Baron. "They have opened fire already."
Raven answered not a syllable. He stood motionless, leaning with his
hand on the table, his eyes directed towards the window; but, a minute
later, as the other two came back from thence, he turned to the
Burgomaster and said:
"You see it is too late. I cannot interfere now, if I would."
"I see," said the old man, with trenchant bitterness. "There is blood
now between you and us, so all discussion is at an end. I have not a
word more to say."