It was not so much the wish of the ladies, as the request of Carla that
Ottomar had acceded to when he came in search of Giraldi. Carla was
burning with curiosity to become personally acquainted with the man, of
whom she had heard such an "immense number of the most interesting
things;" it would be dreadful to lose such a pleasure! Could not Signor
Giraldi get rid of his Excellency or of the Councillor? Could not
Ottomar make a diversion by going in himself, and cutting short the
Catholic question, or whatever other matter of high importance they
might be discussing? Ottomar was so clever! Do ask him, Elsa! He will
do anything for you! Elsa could do no less than say, "Pray oblige
Carla!" and even then Ottomar had sat still, muttering that he did not
speak Italian, till the Baroness said with an absent smile, "That need
not prevent you, my dear Ottomar; Signor Giraldi speaks most European
languages, and German in particular like a native." "Oh! why can't I go
myself!" cried Carla. "If you wish it, my dear aunt," said Ottomar, and
went.
With very mixed feelings, however. He had only joined in paying this
visit because Elsa seemed to wish it so much, and the Wallbachs had
asked him so pressingly. But that he who, after his father, represented
the family, should be the first to seek out the man whose name his
father would never pronounce; the man who, if he might believe his
father, had brought such sorrow and shame upon the family--this was too
much for his pride. And yet in this very circumstance lay a demoniac
charm which Ottomar, as he crossed the anteroom, with grim satisfaction
allowed to take effect upon him. Had not his father just now forcibly
interfered in his life, robbed him by his imperious proceedings of the
woman he loved--now more than ever, made that life miserable, and
brought her to the edge of the grave, perhaps to the grave, itself?
Should he bow here again before the mere threatening shadow of paternal
authority, or not rather rejoice that an opportunity was given him to
set it at defiance?
And this defiance had curled his lips in an ironical smile as he met
the much-abused man.
It seemed like an evil omen that instead of the Councillor whom he
expected to find here, he should meet the Count, the last man he would
have wished for as witness to a step which was almost a crime against
the family honour, and was at least very hazardous. The words he would
have spoken died on his lips, and the dark look with which he followed
the retreating figure could hardly have been misinterpreted by a less
shrewd observer.
"You have no love for that gentleman," said Giraldi, waving his hand
after the Count.
"I have no cause to love him," answered Ottomar.
"No, indeed," said Giraldi; "for two more opposite natures could hardly
be brought together. In the one, openly expressed, supreme satisfaction
with noble qualities which exist only in his imagination; in the other,
perpetual gnawing doubt of the admirable gifts which Nature has so
freely lavished upon him; in one, the miserable narrowness of a hard
heart divided between vanity and frivolity; in the other, an overflow
of love, falling into despair because all its blossoms do not ripen."
Ottomar looked up, startled. Who was this man whom he now saw for the
first time, and who read his inmost heart as if it had been an open
book; who at the first moment of meeting not only could, but dared to
say this, as quietly as if it were a matter of course, as if it were
not worth while to respect the miserable fetters of social
conventionalism even for a moment; as if he could wave them away with a
single movement of the slender, white hand?
He looked into the black eyes as if asking for an explanation, and as
he did so there crossed his mind the recollection, of a woodland pool
by which he had often played as a boy, and which was said to be
unfathomable.
"I have surprised you," said Giraldi. "I might perhaps make use of your
astonishment to appear to you--if only for a short time--in a
mysterious light, and steal into your confidence by pretending to be in
possession of heaven knows what secrets of yours. But I am no
charlatan; I am not even the adventurer to whom you have come
half-unwillingly, half-curiously; I am only a man whose dearest hopes
and warmest wishes have been so long crushed and broken that he has
forgotten how to hope or wish, and that only one feeling is left to
him, that of pity for all sorrows wherever he may meet them, and
especially when the sorrow is so plainly expressed on a young man's
face, at a moment when other faces are beaming with joy and gladness.
And now, son of the man who is my enemy because he does not know me,
give me your hand and tell me that you are not offended at my freedom!"
He extended both hands with a fascinating gesture half of entreaty,
half of command, and Ottomar seized them with passionate eagerness. He
had suffered so much in the last few days, and had had no one whose
hand he could grasp, no one to whom he could unburden his overfull
heart! And now from the eloquent lips of this handsome, strong,
singular man came the first words of comfort! Were miracles possible
then--or, as the man himself said, did the miracle only consist in the
fact that one must be unhappy oneself to understand those who suffer?
His heart overflowed; his beautiful eager eyes filled with tears, of
which he was ashamed, but which he could not check. Giraldi released
his hands and turned away, passing his hand across his eyes. When after
a brief pause he turned back, there was a look of humble joy upon his
expressive countenance, and his voice sounded softer than before as he
said: "And now, my dear young friend, you will not forget this hour,
nor what I now say; I am a poor man in spite of what people say; but
anything in my power shall be done for you, for a glance of the eyes so
wonderfully like those for which I would go to meet death this day as
cheerfully as I would go to a feast. Come!"
He put his arm familiarly within Ottomar's, and led him to the door
which he opened and let his guest precede him. Ottomar did not turn; if
he had he would have been appalled at the convulsively distorted face
of the man who was holding the handle of the door in his left hand,
while he raised the outstretched fingers of the right hand like a
vulture's claws as he strikes down his victim from behind.
The Count's entrance into the drawing-room had greatly surprised the
Baroness; but a moment's reflection had been enough for her quick wits
to guess at the state of affairs, and that this surprise was the work
of Giraldi, the result of which she was to observe and by-and-by to
report upon. Such an incentive was not needed, indeed; Elsa had become
so dear to her in this one hour; every look of the joyous brown eyes,
which, she well knew, could look so earnest too, every word that
came from the little mouth, every movement of the slender, graceful
figure--all, all was balm to her aching heart, that was languishing for
true affection, for beautiful, undefaced humanity. How far behind the
tender grace of her favourite must the brilliant Carla stand! Carla,
with whom everything, every tone, every gesture, every turn of her
eyes, every movement was called into play by an insatiable thirst for
admiration, which did not by any means always attain its object, and
often far outstripped its aim. She had closely compared the two girls,
and each time told herself that a man who had Elsa for a sister could
not really love Carla, and that no good would come of the engagement
for Ottomar, even if he had not passed the threshold to it, so to
speak, over the body of the forsaken beauty who was breaking her heart
now in despair. To her who had been initiated into the secret by her
tyrant, the remorse which devoured him spoke only too plainly in the
nervous glitter of his beautiful eyes, in his sullen silence or the
forced speech to which he again roused himself, and in the constant
gnawing of the delicate lip between his sharp teeth. And she, who had
given her hand and her word to the unhappy man, seemed to see and
suspect nothing of all this! She could chatter and laugh, and flirt
with the Count exactly as she had done a minute before with her
betrothed, only that her frivolous game was evidently not wasted now,
but eagerly and sincerely admired, and gratefully responded to to the
best of the man's ability. And then her observant look returned to Elsa
and met a pair of eyes which she had already learned to read so well,
and in which she now thought she could perceive the same feelings that
moved herself; sorrow, pity, astonishment, blame--all indeed in a
lesser degree, as was natural in the young girl, who probably did not
know the sad secret of her brother's engagement. And this sisterly
sympathy was certainly not mixed with any selfish feelings. When the
Count entered so unexpectedly, he had been welcomed by no joyful
lifting of the eyes in which every thought was reflected, no brighter
crimson in the cheek on which the colour always came and went so
quickly; nothing but a look of astonishment which was little flattering
to the new-comer, and which proved to Valerie how well her tyrant was
kept informed by his spies, Everything that she had seen and heard in
this last hour tallied in every particular with what he had foretold.
And now he would appear, accompanying poor Ottomar, whom in these few
minutes he would have won, fascinated, enchanted as he did all who came
within his reach--he would enter like a sovereign who appears last,
when well-trained officials have appointed each guest his place, so
that the eye of the ruler need not wander inquiringly, but may glance
with a satisfied smile over the assembly which only waits for him.
He came in at last, only leaning on Ottomar's arm long enough for every
one to have time to remark the confidential relations that already
existed between him and the nephew of their hostess; and then hastening
his step and leaving Ottomar behind him, he advanced to the party
grouped round the sofa, whose conversation died away at once, as all
raised their eyes curiously and wonderingly to the man they had been so
eagerly expecting. And however many proofs Valerie had already received
of the man's tact, she was again forced against her will to admire the
consummate art with which--she could hardly herself have said how--he
became almost immediately the centre round which everything else
revolved, from whom came every impulse and interest, to whom every
thought and feeling returned. Even Frau von Wallbach had raised herself
from the comfortable attitude in her arm-chair which she had taken
after the first words of civility and had retained unchanged till now,
and stared with half-open mouth and eyes which looked almost wide awake
at the strange apparition. Elsa had evidently forgotten for the moment
everything that had been troubling her before; and as she turned after
a little while to her aunt and drew a long breath, there lay in her
countenance the silent acknowledgment: "This is more, far more than I
had expected." Carla had the same feeling, and took care by her looks
and gestures to let everybody know it, even before she openly expressed
it.
"In these days," cried she, "when the want of lively sensibilities and
of courage to express the little that still exists is doubly felt, I
have reserved to myself the child-like habit of naïve admiration
wherever and however I find what is admirable, and the privilege of
Homer's heroes of giving unveiled expression to my admiration. And when
among the insipid faces of the north--present company, gentlemen, is
always excepted--I see a face for whose description even the sun-bathed
portraits of a Titian, a Raphael or a Velasquez do not suffice, which I
can compare to nothing but that miraculous picture to which I owe my
most sublime impressions, to that indescribably dignified and yet most
divinely benignant Head of Christ over the high altar in the Cathedral
of Monreale at Palermo--I must speak it out though Signor Giraldi does
raise his hand so deprecatingly, thereby increasing his resemblance to
the picture, which will be to me henceforward indeed only a portrait."
"I am delighted to offer a humble theme to so lofty an artistic
imagination as undoubtedly inspires Fräulein von Wallbach," answered
Giraldi.
"I think we must be going," said Frau von Wallbach, with an absent look
at the ceiling.
"Good heavens! Half-past two!" cried Carla, starting up; "how time
flies in such interesting company!"
The company dispersed; Giraldi, who had gone with them to the door,
came back slowly, his head raised, his dark eyes gleaming with triumph,
and a smile of contempt curling his lip. Suddenly, in the centre of the
room, he stood still, and for a moment his face grew dark as night, but
the next he was smiling again, and with a smile he asked:
"Is that the look of a victor after the battle?"
Valerie had sunk back, with closed eyes, utterly exhausted in her
chair, believing that he had left the room. At the first sound of his
voice she started.
"Which you have won!"
"For you!"
He bent down to her as he had done before and raised her hand to his
lips.
"My lady's hand is cold, however warm I know her heart to be. The noise
of the battle is not fit for her sensitive nerves. We must take care
that she retires betimes to a quieter spot, where she may await the end
in peace."
"What do you mean?" asked Valerie with a smile, though a shudder ran
through her.
"It is a plan which has just taken shape in my mind, and which--but no,
not now, when you need repose! not now; to-morrow, perhaps, when these
eyes may shine more boldly, when the blood will run more warmly in this
dear hand--the day after to-morrow--there is no hurry; you know that
Gregorio Giraldi does not make his plans for a day."
"I know it," answered Valerie.
He now really left the room; Valerie listened, she heard his door shut,
she was alone. She rose trembling limbs and tottered to the chair in
which Elsa had sat, and there fell upon her knees, pressing her
forehead against the back.
"And Thou knowest it, Almighty God! Thou hast sent me Thy angel, in
token of Thy grace and mercy. I will trust in Thee faithfully. Thou
wilt not suffer that this tyrant shall destroy Thy beautiful world."