All was quiet in the town. The "energetic measures" had produced their
effect, although they had not been carried into execution with such
disastrous rigour as at first appeared. Colonel Wilten knew very well
that, notwithstanding the Governor's high standing and authority, some
portion of the responsibility would rest with him. On the troops being
called out, he gave orders, therefore, that at the word of command the
first round should be fired, not among the crowds assembled, but in the
air. He counted on the blind panic which would ensue when it was found
that recourse would be had to arms, and he was not deceived in his
reckoning. The first discharge produced boundless fear and confusion,
which were still further increased by the gathering darkness. None had
sufficient calm and self-possession to note what had really happened. A
wild tumult arose, but there was no attempt at the resistance which had
been expected and feared. For one brief moment the masses swayed to and
fro without plan or method, then all turned to seek refuge in flight.
The Colonel had foreseen this, and had taken his precautions that a way
should be opened for the fugitives to escape. A detachment of soldiers
succeeded, without any very serious difficulty, in dispersing the
dense crowds, and driving them back. Once broken up, they could not
re-assemble, as all the central points of the town were occupied by the
troops. After some hours, order was restored, and, thanks to the
prudence and moderation of the commanding officer, this happy result
was attained without bloodshed. Wounds and injuries enough had been
inflicted in the press and crush of that hurried flight, but there had
been no actual battle, and yet the military intervention had produced
the desired effect. The more turbulent party in the town was
intimidated; there was no repetition of the riots, and during the
ensuing days the public peace had not been disturbed. Authority had
once more triumphed, and the Governor still preserved the upper hand.
On the morning following his interview with Rudolph Brunnow, the Baron
paid a visit to his sister-in-law's apartments. Madame von Harder's
cold had been attended with serious consequences. She was ill, or, at
least, declared herself to be so, and since her return to town had
hardly left her bed. The Baron sent over regularly every morning to
inquire after her health. He had seen neither her nor Gabrielle during
the last few days, for the young girl had taken advantage of the
pretext afforded her by her mother's illness, and had refrained from
appearing at table. Since that sad, stormy interview, a meeting had
thus been avoided.
The Baroness was lying on the sofa in the pose of a languid invalid,
when her brother-in-law entered. He took no notice of Gabrielle, who
was in the room, but went straight up to her mother, and asked, in the
cold indifferent tone of one who is using a mere formula, how she felt
that morning.
"Oh, I have gone through so much during all these terrible days!"
sighed the Baroness. "I feel very ill indeed. The excitement and horror
of that dreadful evening when they threatened to storm the Castle was
too much for me."
"I expressly sent you word that every precaution had been taken to
ensure the safety of the Castle," said Raven, impatiently. "You never
would have been in danger, in any case. The popular demonstration was
aimed at me, and me alone."
"But the noise, the advance of the troops, the firing in the town!"
complained the lady. "It all had the most terrible effect on my nerves.
How I wish I had complied with Colonel Wilten's wish, and had remained
a few days longer in the country. But, indeed, as things now stand,
that would be out of the question. Gabrielle is torturing me to death
with her wilfulness and obstinacy. She declares now decidedly that
she will not marry young Baron Wilten, and threatens to tell him so
point-blank, if I let him come to her with an offer."
Raven took a rapid survey of the young girl, who sat at some distance
from them, pale and silent, leaning her head on her hand; but even now
he did not address her.
"It places me in the most embarrassing predicament," went on the
Baroness. "I have given the Colonel positive assurances which cannot
possibly be recalled. He and his son will be furious. Gabrielle says
she has already spoken to you on the subject, Arno. Do you really
approve of her conduct in this matter?"
"I?" asked the Baron, coldly. "I have renounced all pretension to
influence your daughter."
"Good Heavens! what has happened?" asked the Baroness, starting up in
alarm. "Has Gabrielle been showing you her stubbornness and self-will?
I hope--I trust----"
"Let us not talk of it," said the Baron, cutting short her effusive
speech. "This affair with Wilten must be settled by me, certainly. My
own position towards the Colonel demands it. He would never forgive me
if I were to allow his son to incur the humiliation of a refusal, where
he confidently expects to be favourably received. I must say, the fault
is altogether yours, Matilda. You will remember that I have held myself
aloof from your plans from the first. You should have made sure of your
daughter's consent before you committed yourself to positive promises.
But now this matter must be discussed and decided. I am going over to
see Wilten now, and during our conference I will take an opportunity of
letting him know Gabrielle's answer. But to the subject which brought
me hither. You are unwell?"
"Indeed I am--very unwell!" breathed the Baroness, faintly, sinking
back in her cushions with an air of utter exhaustion.
"Well, I have a proposal to make to you. The doctor talks of nervous
symptoms, and recommends change of air, particularly as the autumn here
with us is often rough and inclement. Besides this, in the present
state of affairs, there can be no thought of receptions or any social
gatherings for some time to come. I would, therefore, advise you to
accept the invitation you have received from your friend, the Countess
Selteneck, of which you were lately speaking to me, and with your
daughter to go and spend a few weeks in the capital."
Gabrielle, who had listened to the conversation, taking no part in it,
started violently at the last words, and an involuntary exclamation
escaped her lips.
"Yes," said Raven, turning towards her for the first time, and speaking
with caustic irony; "I know that my scheme will meet your views."
The girl made no reply; but the Baroness's languid features acquired
sudden animation.
"What, you approve of this visit?" she asked. "I do not deny that a
short stay in the capital would be agreeable to me--that it would be
pleasant to see my old friends and acquaintances again; but my regard
for your wishes, my duties as the mistress of your house----"
"Need not bind you in this case," interposed the Baron. "I repeat to
you that, under the present circumstances, entertainments are out of
the question. We cannot say with certainty that there will be no
renewal of the disturbances; and I should be sorry to expose you a
second time to the perils of so much terror and excitement. I would,
therefore, beg of you to make your preparations for the journey as
speedily as possible. When you return, you will find us all peaceful
and settled, I hope."
"I will comply with your wishes in this as in all else," declared the
Baroness, to whom, in the present case, compliance was remarkably easy.
"We shall very soon be ready to start; and I hope the change may be
beneficial to Gabrielle, as well as to myself. She has grown so pale
and listless of late, I am really beginning to fear for her health."
Raven appeared not to hear this last remark. He rose to go.
"So that is settled. Whatever you may require for your trip is at your
disposal. But now I must leave you, Matilda. The carriage is waiting
for me below."
He shook hands with his sister-in-law, and went. Hardly had the door
closed upon him, when Madame von Harder exclaimed, with great vivacity:
"Well, your uncle has had a sensible idea at last! I was afraid he
would expect us to remain in this wretched city, where one is not sure
of one's life, and where one cannot even drive out without fear of
being insulted by the people. I only wonder that Arno deigns to notice
my nerves or the doctor's advice at all. He is generally so hard and
unfeeling in these matters; don't you think so, Gabrielle?"
"I think he is anxious to get rid of us now, at any price," replied
Gabrielle, without turning her head.
"Well, yes," said the Baroness, suavely. "He must see that R---- is not
a very agreeable place of sojourn just now, especially for ladies. I
had something of this in my mind when I mentioned the Countess's
invitation to him. I half hoped he would assent to it; but he then
preserved an obstinate silence, so I did not venture to pursue the
subject. How I long to see the capital again, and to renew my old
connections there! Say what you will, this R---- is provincial, after
all, in spite of the grand city-airs which the town gives itself. But
now, in the first place, we must look over what we have to wear. Come,
child, and let us consider what has to be done."
"Spare me that, mamma!" prayed the young girl, in a low, weary tone. "I
am not in the humour for it now. Decide what you think best. I shall be
quite satisfied with anything you do."
The Baroness looked at her daughter in unmitigated astonishment; such
indifference passed the bounds of all belief.
"Not in the humour for it? Gabrielle, what has come to you? I
noticed the change in you some time ago, when we were staying in the
country; but now, during the last few days, you have grown so strange,
I really can hardly recognise my own daughter. Something must have
passed between you and your uncle during that drive home, I am
afraid--something you are keeping back from me. He is evidently angry
with you; he scarcely looked at you just now. When will you learn to
show him the necessary respect and consideration?"
"You hear, he is sending us away," said Gabrielle, with a great, bitter
rush of feeling. "He wishes to be alone if a danger threatens, if a
misfortune overtakes him--quite, quite alone!"
"I do not understand you," declared her mother, pettishly. "What should
threaten your uncle? He has put down the attempts at revolt with a
strong hand, and there will be an end of them, I fancy; but if things
should come to the worst, he has the troops to protect him."
Gabrielle was silent. She had not thought of any specific danger, but,
inexperienced as she was in all the serious affairs of life, she
divined that an open attack, such as Winterfeld's, would not pass by
without leaving its mark, and felt, as it were, a prescience of some
coming storm. She and her mother were to be sheltered from it,
evidently. In no plainer language could the Baron have told her that
all was really over between them. Was he not sending her to the
capital, where George now lived, where a meeting with him could easily
be managed? The harshness and violence with which Raven had formerly
opposed this union had caused the girl far less pain than this
voluntary withdrawal of all resistance on his part. He was showing her
that he had ceased to protest, that he left her free to act as she
pleased; and she knew him too well to cherish any hope that he would
soften towards and pardon the woman whom he believed to have betrayed
him. Perhaps Gabrielle might have sought to convince him of his error,
to show him what injustice his cruel suspicions did her; but his icy
look and manner scared her from him. That look told her that her words
would find no credence, and at this thought her proud spirit rose in
arms. Was she again to endure the degradation of finding her defence
unheard, herself repulsed, as had happened once before? Never! never!
The Baroness was very far from divining her daughter's train of
thought; she did not even remember that Assessor Winterfeld was living
in the metropolis, still less that he had been sent thither expressly
to prevent any intercourse between him and the Governor's heiress. The
lady had weightier matters to occupy her just now. Finding Gabrielle
insensible to the claims of the great "toilette" question, she rang for
her maid, and at once engaged with her in a long and elaborate
consultation. It was notable what a vivifying effect the prospect of
this journey had on the Baroness's system. Her illness and languor
seemed suddenly to have disappeared. She gave the necessary
instructions with an eagerness and animation which already augured the
best results from the prescribed "change of air."
On leaving his sister-in-law, the Baron had himself at once driven over
to Colonel Wilten's quarters. He had always been on friendly terms with
the commandant of the garrison, and latterly there had been an increase
of cordiality, on the Wiltens' part at least, for the family were bent
on securing an alliance between the eldest hope of their house and the
young Baroness Harder.
To-day, however, there was a something unusual in the Colonel's manner
and reception of his visitor, a certain constraint which he did his
best to conceal by talking with more fluency than was his wont. The
Baron did not heed this. His mind was busy with other thoughts, and he
was not disposed to attach importance to such trifles. He was about to
turn the conversation to those measures of public safety which were
still to some extent in the hands of the military, when Wilten
forestalled him, and said rather hurriedly:
"Have you received further intelligence from the capital yet? You are,
no doubt, expecting an answer relative to that Winterfeld pamphlet."
The Baron's brow clouded over very noticeably at this question, and
there was a pause of some seconds before he responded.
"Yes," he said at length. "The answer reached me this morning."
"Well?" asked the Colonel, eagerly.
Raven leaned back in his chair, and replied in a tone wherein irony and
bitterness were equally blended:
"Our friends in the capital appear to have lost sight of the fact that,
as their representative, I have acted in their name, and that through
long years they have seconded me in all my acts to the best of their
ability. You were right in warning me against the intrigues at
head- quarters, which were secretly undermining me. I see now how
hollow is the ground on which I stand. A few months ago they would not
have dared to give me such an answer."
"What: they have not tried to hint----" the Colonel stopped; he did not
like to finish the phrase.
"They have hinted much--in the most courteous form, naturally, and with
an unusually lavish expenditure of fair words--but the meaning remains
the same. I think it would not be disagreeable to the gentlemen in
office yonder, if I were to make my bow and withdraw from the scene. I
am a stumbling-block in the way of several persons there, and they, of
course, seek to profit by any attack upon me. At present, however, I am
not inclined to make room for them."
Colonel Wilten remained silent, and studied the carpet diligently.
"The late events in this city have also given rise to serious
differences of opinion," continued Raven. "There has been a constant
interchange of despatches on the subject. They cannot be made to
understand that the intervention of the troops was necessary, and
preach to me of the heavy responsibility incurred, of the exasperated
state of public feeling, and more in the same style. I reply simply
that these matters cannot be judged from a distance. I am on the spot,
and know what is necessary; and were the disturbances to break out
afresh, I should do exactly as I have done."
Again there stole over the Colonel's features that look of constraint
which had gradually disappeared during the course of the conversation.
"That would hardly be possible," he remarked. "It is true that the
popular excitement is greater than we at first supposed, and I told you
some time ago that the Government are anxious to avoid all military
interference."
"It is not what the Government desire, but what is necessary," declared
the Baron, with the curt, abrupt speech which with him was a sure sign
of great irritation.
"We will hope, then, that the necessity will not recur," said Wilten;
"for I am unfortunately ... I should have ... in a word, I should be
compelled to refuse co-operation, your Excellency."
Raven started, and turned a flashing glance on the speaker.
"What does this mean, Colonel? You know that I have unlimited
authority. I can assure you that it has been in no way restricted."
"I do not for a moment suppose it has; but my powers have been
curtailed. In future I am to take my instructions from army
head-quarters alone."
"You have received counter-orders?" asked the Baron, quickly.
"Yes," was the reply, given with some hesitation.
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"May I see the despatch?"
"I am sorry--it is of a private nature."
Raven turned away, and went up to the window. When he looked round,
after the lapse of several minutes, his face was almost livid in its
pallor.
"This means that my hands are to be tied completely. If there is any
renewal of the riots, and the police are not strong enough to suppress
them, I am powerless, and the town is to be given over to the mercy of
the mob."
Wilten shrugged his shoulders.
"I am a soldier, and must obey, as your Excellency knows."
"Assuredly you must obey--that I quite see."
Another uncomfortable pause followed. The Colonel seemed to be thinking
how he could effect a diversion; but Raven forestalled him.
"As the matter now stands, the conference I wished to hold with you
becomes superfluous," he said, with enforced calm. "No excuses, pray. I
can well conceive that it is very painful to you personally, but you
cannot alter the circumstances, so let us say no more on the subject. I
wanted to speak to you also on a little matter of private business. You
gave me to understand some time ago, that your son was likely to come
to me with a request. Lieutenant Wilten has not declared himself as
yet, and in these troubled, excited times it would hardly have been
possible for him to do so."
"Quite impossible," assented the Colonel. "I pointed out to Albert that
it would argue a want of proper feeling on his part, were he to trouble
you with such matters at a time when you have so much to contend with.
He admitted the justice of what I said. Besides, he is leaving us
to-morrow."
"So suddenly?" asked Raven, in surprise.
"He is going to M---- on a mission connected with the service, and will
probably remain there some weeks," returned the Colonel, who was
growing visibly embarrassed beneath the Baron's severe scrutiny. "I had
originally intended to send another officer, but I cannot dispense with
his assistance now; and my son, as the youngest on my staff, can be
most easily spared. So the matter we were speaking of can rest for the
present. Later on, when Albert returns, we can take it up again."
There were hard, bitter lines about Raven's mouth as he answered:
"On the contrary, I wish this matter to be settled at once, and for
ever. My sister-in-law regrets to find that she is not in a position to
satisfy the hopes which she encouraged the young Baron to entertain.
She has now convinced herself that her daughter does not possess that
amount of affection for your son which would dispose her to enter into
this marriage; and neither Madame von Harder nor I will exercise the
slightest constraint on Gabrielle----"
"Oh! by no means. We would never consent to that," interrupted Wilten,
eagerly. "No constraint, no persuasion in these matters! It will be
hard for me, of course, to give up the plan I have so long cherished,
and my son will be in despair. But if he may not hope that his
affection will be returned, it is better he should know the truths and
try to conquer his attachment. I will talk to him seriously on the
subject."
"Do so," said the Baron, whom neither the other's ready zeal, nor his
deep-drawn breath of relief, had escaped. "I am persuaded that you will
find in him an obedient and tractable son."
He turned to go. The Colonel accompanied him politely to the door, and
would have given his hand at parting as usual, but Raven passed by him
with a cool, ceremonious bow, and left the room. Outside, on the
stairs, he stopped a moment and glanced towards the door that had just
closed, saying to himself under his breath:
"So it has come to this already! They wish to break off all connection
with me. The news Wilten has received must have been strange news
indeed!"
As the Governor issued from the house and was about to enter his
carriage, which waited before the door, he caught sight of the
Superintendent of Police, who was coming up the street, and who
quickened his steps on perceiving him.
"I was just going up to see your Excellency," said he, bowing
respectfully. "I thought I should find you at the Castle."
"I am now returning thither," replied Raven, pointing to the carriage.
"May I ask you to accompany me?"
The Superintendent accepted the invitation, and both gentlemen entered
the carriage, which started at once on its way to the Castle. The Baron
listened in silence to the other's talk. He was moody and abstracted,
chafing inwardly at the first humiliation openly laid upon him. So far
they had left him free scope, had invested him with an unlimited
authority such as no Governor before him had possessed; and now, at the
present juncture, when he was more than ever in want of this authority,
he suddenly found himself checked, his course of action impeded, his
hands bound. They were taking from him the support whereon he had
relied, the powerful ally whom he had once called to his aid, and on
whom now he was forced in some measure to depend. They were purposely
leaving him alone to face the struggle with the rebellious city. Raven
was not at a loss to interpret this symptom.
The Superintendent had been speaking of some unimportant incidents
which had occurred the preceding day. Now he went on to say: "But I
have a communication to make which will surprise your Excellency. You
take an interest in young Dr. Brunnow?"
Raven grew attentive.
"Certainly. What of him?"
"Nothing personally, though I am sorry to say the matter in question
touches him very nearly. You remember the gentleman who was introduced
to us the other evening by Councillor Moser as Dr. Franz? You had even,
I think, some lengthened conversation with him afterwards. Did nothing
in his manner strike you as peculiar?"
The Baron drew himself up quickly. The allusion sufficed to show him
that his suspicion had been well-founded, and that danger to Brunnow
was impending. It was imperatively necessary to show a calm front, in
order, if it were yet possible, to avert a catastrophe. Raven summoned
up all his self-possession, and answered with a cold, imperturbable
"No."
"Well, my attention was attracted to him at once," said the
Superintendent. "Even during those few short minutes doubts occurred to
me, doubts which were subsequently strengthened by some remarks the
Councillor inadvertently let fall. So I thought it advisable to set
some inquiries on foot. Now that there are so few strangers in the
town, it was no difficult matter to find out where the pretended Dr.
Franz had put up. He had arrived a couple of hours before at an inn in
the suburbs, had displayed great solicitude in speaking of the young
doctor, asking many questions about him in an agitated manner, and had
then hurried off to see him. The trunk, which had been imprudently left
at the inn, bore the ticket Z---- as the station of departure. There
were other very suspicious circumstances in support of the evidence--in
short, no doubt now exists that we have to do with Rudolph Brunnow, the
father of the wounded man."
All these statements were delivered in the cool, business-like tone
used by the Superintendent throughout the interview, and Raven
endeavoured to preserve the same appearance of indifference as he
replied:
"That is, at present, merely an assumption of yours, which will require
confirmation. You cannot take any steps against this stranger on such
evidence."
"We have the confirmation already," said the Superintendent. "When
arrested, Dr. Brunnow admitted his name."
"When arrested!" exclaimed the Baron. "You have proceeded to arrest him
without informing me of the matter--without giving me the slightest
intimation?"
The police-officer stared at him in well-feigned astonishment.
"Your Excellency, I really do not understand. So far as I am aware,
such measures are entirely within my competence. Had I known that you
desired to be previously informed, I should, of course, have seen that
a communication was made to you."
Raven clenched his right hand, crushing the glove he held in it.
"And I should certainly have dissuaded you from taking such a step.
Have you thought of the excitement this arrest will produce, and of its
inevitable consequences? Precisely now, when the Government is bent on
adopting conciliatory measures, on creating a diversion, when
everything depends on its being popular, and the Ministers are shaping
their course with scrupulous care, in order to avoid a conflict--this
is not the time to drag before the public old, half-forgotten
reminiscences of the rebellion."
The Superintendent shrugged his shoulders.
"I have done my duty, nothing more. Dr. Brunnow was sentenced to a long
term of imprisonment; this punishment he evaded by taking flight. He
knew that on his return he would become amenable to the law. He came
notwithstanding this, and he must take the consequences."
"I should have thought you had held your position long enough to know
that the letter of the law must sometimes be sacrificed to the
expediency of the moment," said Raven, with rising anger. "Why did this
fugitive return? Public opinion will unmistakably side with the man
who, in his anxiety for his only son, in the hope that by his medical
skill he might be the means of saving that son's life, set his own
danger at naught, risked everything and came; Brunnow will be raised to
a martyr's pedestal, and will obtain sympathy throughout the land. Do
you think this will be agreeable to us? You chose to act on a mere
suspicion of your own, and you will meet with little thanks from
head-quarters."
These words were spoken with a vehemence which made them almost
offensive; but the Superintendent replied coolly and politely:
"Well, we must wait and see. I acted to the best of my judgment, and I
regret that the course I have taken does not meet with your
approbation. I was the less prepared for censure from your Excellency
that you have always condemned the lukewarm attitude of the Government,
and the fear they evince of provoking a conflict as weakness, whilst
the line of action your Excellency is now pursuing in this town proves
that you reckon on energetic and unsparing measures alone for success."
The Baron bit his lip. He felt that he had allowed himself to be
carried too far. Turning the conversation, he said:
"So Dr. Brunnow at once avowed his name?"
"Yes; he seemed disconcerted at first, when his arrest was made known
to him, but he soon recovered himself, and made no attempt at denial.
It would indeed have been perfectly useless. I have taken care that the
news of what has occurred shall not reach his son at present--at least
the Councillor has promised to be silent. The poor Councillor! he
almost fell down in a fainting-fit when I disclosed to him who the
_soi-disant_ Dr. Franz really was. After having all his life sedulously
avoided anything like disloyal contact, he is now being drawn into the
most questionable connections, and that without any fault of his own."
"You will at least, I hope, show your prisoner every consideration,"
said Raven, unheeding the last remark. "The motive that brought him
here, and his son's noble conduct at the time of the riot, entitle him
to some favour at your hands."
"Doubtless," assented the Superintendent. "Dr. Brunnow will have
nothing to complain of. He is, as a temporary measure, confined in a
room in the city prison, and I have been careful that in all the
arrangements a due regard should be had to his comfort. Of course,
he must be strictly guarded. There might be an attempt at evasion
again--or at a rescue."
Raven's eyes were fixed full on his companion's face. The derisive
smile lurking about the officer's lips told the Baron that his former
relations with the prisoner were no longer a secret, and that the blow
was directed less against Brunnow than against himself. To what end
this hostile step had been taken, he did not then immediately divine;
but the Superintendent of Police was not the man to be guilty of
over-precipitation, or to do anything which would bring upon him a
serious responsibility. He always knew very well what he was about.
"Evasion! rescue!" repeated Raven, scornfully. "It is too late for
that, I fancy."
"I hope so too, but I will not neglect the necessary precautions. One
can never know what connections these refugees may have, or how far
their secret influence may extend. This was the communication I had to
make; now I need not take up your Excellency's time any longer. We
shall soon be passing my office. Might I ask to be set down there? I
shall, as usual, find a deluge of work awaiting me, no doubt."
A few minutes later, the carriage stopped before the police-bureau, and
the head of that department took a most affable leave of the Baron, who
then drove on to the Castle. At length the respite of a few minutes'
solitude was granted him. So many successive blows had fallen on him
since the morning. First the Minister's letter, then the disclosure
made by Colonel Wilten, now the news of Brunnow's arrest. More and more
menacing were the signs of the times, and Rudolph's prophecy was
perhaps nearer its fulfilment than he himself had imagined. The ground
beneath the great man's feet began to quake and to give way; and for
the first time he looked down from his vertiginous height, measuring
how great the fall might perchance be--but Arno Raven was not one to
quail before such thoughts. The proud, determined look on his face
showed that he was not disposed to yield a step, that he was ready to
confront any danger that might rise up before him. Though perils should
surround him on all sides, there would be no surrender. Thus, with the
undaunted spirit and strong will which had borne him through so many
trials, he advanced to meet the approaching storm.