"You will see, Carla, he will not come to-day either," said Frau von
Wallbach, trying to find if possible a more comfortable position in her
arm-chair.
"Je le plains, je le blâme, mais----"
Carla, who was sitting at the piano, played a scale very softly with
her right hand.
"And Fräulein von Strummin has also gone away without paying us a
farewell visit."
"Silly little thing," said Carla, repeating her scale.
"And Elsa has never once been here to apologise for the omission."
"So much the worse for her," said Carla.
"I wash my hands of the blame," said Frau von Wallbach, slowly rising
and going into the reception-room which some of the dinner guests were
entering.
Carla was also getting up, but remained sitting when she heard that it
was a lady, and moreover one of little importance. She let her hands
fall into her lap, and looked thoughtfully down before her.
"He is not half so clever, he often evidently does not understand what
I say; I think even he is _un peu bête_. But he--adores me. Why should
I give up my adorers for a betrothed who never troubles himself about
me? He would soon drive them all away."
The door behind her into the anteroom was opened. Only intimate friends
at small entertainments ever entered through this apartment--her room.
The new-comer must be either Ottomar or the Count. She had heard
nothing, and as the steps came nearer over the thick carpet, let her
fingers wander dreamily over the keys, "Already sends the Graal to seek
the loiterer----"
"Fräulein von Wallbach!"
"Ah! my dear Count," said Carla, looking up a little, and giving the
Count her left hand over her shoulder, whilst the right played "My
trusty Swan." "Will you not go first and say 'how do you do' to Louisa?
She is in the drawing-room with Frau von Arnfeld."
The Count lifted the carelessly-given hand to his lips, "And then?" he
asked.
"You can return here--I have something to say to you."
The Count came back in half a minute.
"Draw that chair here--not so near--there--and don't let my strumming
disturb you. Do you know, my dear Count, that you are a very dangerous
man!"
"My dear Fräulein von Wallbach!" cried the Count, as he twirled his
moustaches.
"You must be so, when even Louisa already thinks so. She has just
preached me the most charming sermon."
"But what have I done? All the world worships you; why should I not
dare what all the world may do?"
"Because you are not all the world."
"Because----"
Carla lifted her eyes; the Count was always bewitched when he could
look into those blue eyes, unhindered by glasses, under whose weary,
drooping eyelids a secret world of tenderness and archness seemed to
him to be concealed.
"Because I have come too late," he whispered passionately.
"A man should not be too late, my dear Count; it is the worst of faults
in war, in politics, in everything. You must bear the consequence of
this fault--_voilà tout_."
She played:
"Only one year beside thee,
As witness of thy bliss, I asked."
The Count gazed before him in silence.
"He takes it for earnest," thought Carla. "I must rouse him up again a
little."
"Why should we not be friends?" she said, reaching out her right hand
to him, whilst the left played:
"Return to me! and let me teach
How sweet the bliss of purest truth."
"Certainly, certainly!" cried the Count, imprinting a long, burning
kiss on the offered hand; "why should we not be friends?"
"Friendship between pure souls is so sweet, is it not so? But the world
is not pure. It loves to blacken all bright things. It requires a
security. Give it the best possible under the circumstances. Marry!"
"And that is your advice to me?"
"Mine more especially. I shall gain immensely by it; I shall not quite
lose you. More, I cannot--more, I do not expect."
And Carla played, with both hands:
"Let me convert thee to the faith,
One bliss there is, without remorse."
"Good God, Carla--my dear Fräulein von Wallbach! do you know that
something similar--almost in the same words----"
"You have heard from Signor Giraldi," said Carla, as the Count paused,
embarrassed. "You may say it out, I do not mind. He is the cleverest of
men, and one can keep nothing secret from him, even if one wished to do
so, and--I do not so wish; you also--need not wish it. He is very fond
of you. He wishes you well; believe me and trust in him."
"I believe it," said the Count, "and I should trust him implicitly, if
the engagement which is in question did not also include just a little
touch of business. You are aware that I have to-day bought the Warnow
estates, I should hardly have taken such a tremendous risk upon myself,
indeed could not have done so, if it had not appeared that at least
half the money in the form of dowry----"
"_Fi donc!_" said Carla.
"For heaven's sake, do not misunderstand me!" cried the Count. "It is
evident that this suggestion could only come from Signor Giraldi, and
from no one else. The thing is simply that Signor Giraldi, as the
Baroness's agent----"
"Spare me anything of that sort, my dear Count," cried Carla. "Once for
all, I understand nothing about it. I only know that my sister-in-law
is a delightful creature, and that you are a terribly _blasé_ man, whom
every well-behaved girl must really be afraid of. And now go into the
drawing-room, I hear Baroness Kniebreche, and she would never forgive
you if you have not kissed her hand within the first five minutes."
"Give me courage to go to execution," whispered the Count.
"How?"
The Count did not answer, but took her hand off the keys, covered it
with passionate kisses, and hurried in a state of emotion which was
half affected and half real, into the drawing-room.
"He is a good creature after all," murmured Carla, turning, and looking
after him with her glass in her eye.
"That he is," said a voice close to her.
"Mon Dieu! Signor Giraldi!"
"Always at your service."
"Always at an opportune moment. You have not yet been into the
drawing-room? Of course not. Come! let us have a few minutes' chat. A
_tête-à-tête_ with you is a much envied privilege, which even Baroness
Kniebreche herself would respect."
"And then this respectable _tête-à-tête_ is not quite so dangerous as
the preceding one," said Giraldi, sitting down by Carla on a little
sofa, which stood at the end of the room beneath a candelabra on the
wall. "Did you speak to him?"
"Just now!"
"And what did he answer?"
"He understands everything--except----"
"Not everything then?"
"Do not smile ironically; he is not quite a nonentity. He is clever
enough, for example, to ask what the special interest is which you can
have in his engagement with Elsa."
"Do not be angry if I still smile a little," said Giraldi. "What, the
Count inquired as to the interest I have in the matter--he, on whose
side the whole profit lies! But there! I confess the sale would have
been delayed for a long time, as the General out of sheer obstinacy
would not consent at all, and your brother, from some reasons of
propriety, would not sell direct to the provisional board, and insisted
upon a go-between; I further admit that the Count is not only in every
other respect more convenient and more suitable than any one else, but
he is also more lucrative to us, because as a neighbour he can really
pay more than any one else. But that is an advantage on our side, which
we fully compensate to him by granting him other advantages, with the
details of which I will not trouble you. Believe me, my dear Fräulein
von Wallbach, that the Count knows all this as well as I do, and he
only affects ignorance and consequently hesitation for reasons which I
will set before you. Firstly: It is always well not to see the hand
which throws fortune into your lap; you can then, if convenient, be as
ungrateful as you please. Secondly: He loves you, and--who can blame
him?--he does not consider the matter quite hopeless, so long as you
remain unmarried. Thirdly: It is not absolutely certain that Fräulein
von Werben will accept him, and he has in fact better reasons for this
uncertainty than his philosophy and vanity combined will allow him to
imagine."
"You are again referring to the fancy that Elsa is supposed to have for
the handsome merchant-captain," said Carla. "Much as I admire your
acuteness, my dear Giraldi, here you pass the limits of my belief."
"But supposing I have unquestionable evidence? supposing I have it in
black and white, from the hand of Elsa's most intimate friend, that
little Fräulein von Strummin, who went off in such headlong haste, to
startle us, from the security of her island, with the news of her
engagement to the sculptor, Justus Anders. Pray do not laugh. What I am
telling you is absolutely true. Herr Justus Anders, again, is the
Captain's most intimate friend; the two pairs of friends it appears
have no secrets of any sort between them; Fräulein von Strummin also
has none from her betrothed, and she writes in her letter, which
arrived this morning, word for word--"
Giraldi had taken an elegant pocket-book from his coat pocket, and out
of it a paper, which he unfolded.
"If any one comes in, it is supposed to be a letter from the sculptor,
Enrico Braga, from Milan. She writes the following, word for word--I am
not responsible for the peculiar style:
"'One thing more, dearest man, over which Lesto would howl himself to
death with joy if he could understand it, and you also will rejoice
like a child, as you always are. My Elsa loves your Reinhold with all
her heart and soul, and that is saying something for any one who knows
as I do that she is all soul, and has the most divine heart in the
world. I have no permission, still less any commission, to tell you
this. But we are never again to play at hide-and-seek with one another,
you know, and must also inspire our poor friends with courage, and the
best way to do that is to be always saying to them, "He," or in your
case, "She loves you!" I have proved it at any rate with Elsa. Ah! my
dearest heart, we ought indeed to feel ashamed of being so happy, when
we think how unhappy our friends are, and only on account of these
horrible "circumstances." If I only knew who had devised these
"circumstances" I should just like to have a few words with him, you
know.'"
"This is wonderfully interesting," said Carla; "and it will interest
the Count extremely."
"Without doubt," said Giraldi, returning the letter to his pocket-book.
"By the way, what a wonderful woman you are, never once to have asked
where I got this. In the meantime, I propose that we do not communicate
this until you are certain of one thing."
"And that is?"
Giraldi bent towards Carla and looked straight into her eyes.
"That you do not finally prefer to bestow your hand upon Count Axel
Golm, instead of on Ottomar von Werben."
"You are really too bad. Signor Giraldi, do you know?" said Carla,
flicking him on the hand with her pocket-handkerchief.
"If you say so! But look here, my dear young lady! any communication
with regard to Elsa's maritime fancy would in the end determine the
Count to give up his suit; and until now it has appeared to us most
convenient for all parties to marry him to Elsa. If you want him for
yourself, and it seems so, well, that may also be managed; but in your
place I would not be too hasty. We can keep the game going as long as
we like. Why not drain the sweetness of courtship to the last drop? The
more so that Ottomar--great minds are never shocked at truth--scarcely
appears to appreciate, at its true worth, the happiness which awaits
him in the arms of the cleverest and most agreeable of women."
"Which means, if I am not mistaken," said Carla, "that Ottomar must do
as you wish; you have got the whip-hand of him. Well I know, dear
friend, how powerful your hand is; but I confess that in this case
I do not understand where the power lies. That Ottomar has had
mistresses--very likely has them still--well! I have read Schopenhauer,
who says nothing about monogamy, because he could nowhere discover it,
and I should not like to be the first woman to find her beloved the
less interesting because he is pleasing to other women. His debts? Good
gracious! name any one to me who has none! and my brother says they are
really not so bad. My brother urges our hastening on our wedding, and
so does my sister-in-law now. The General is, as you know, most
inconveniently obstinate in carrying out his plans; and society will be
greatly injured if we are not on our wedding tour by the beginning of
March; on the 15th Ottomar must enter upon his office at St.
Petersburg."
"Let us make our arrangements accordingly then, if we are otherwise
agreed," answered Giraldi. "By the middle of February you will discover
that your finely organised nature will no longer stand the strain of
the season, and that, before you enter upon the new period of your
life, you absolutely require quiet and repose, which you cannot procure
in town, and can only find in the retirement of the country. And then
it falls in admirably, that at that very time the Baroness, my dear
friend, impelled by the necessity of rest, seeks a shelter in quiet
Warnow. I have for this purpose reserved the castle and park from the
Count, who this morning became the possessor of the property. He will
be delighted that Fräulein von Wallbach should share the retirement of
her betrothed's aunt. Not alone! The Baroness, at her own urgent
request--mark that--will be accompanied by Fräulein Elsa. The Count,
whose business at that time--and particularly the harbour works at
Warnow--makes his residence in the country a duty, will do everything
to cheer and enliven the ladies' solitude. Your brother--I myself--will
come and go. What a spectacle, to watch the spring awaking in the
country, on the shores of the ocean, perhaps to see the further
blossoming of dear Elsa's quiet fancy for the man of her choice, who
has gone to his new post--he has lately been made Superintendent of
Pilots--I think they call it so--at Wissow, just the same distance from
Warnow as the Count is at his house. How do you like my little plan?"
"Charming," said Carla, "_à deux mains_. But is it practicable?"
"Leave that to me. Give me your two pretty hands upon it, that you will
support me."
"There, you have them."
"And I impress my lips upon both of them in confirmation of the
agreement."
"I really must venture to disturb your _tête-à-tête_," said Herr von
Wallbach, entering from the drawing-room. "The company have all
arrived. Only Ottomar, whom we must again give up, and the Baroness
still fail us."
"I forgot to tell you," said Giraldi, as he greeted Herr von
Wallbach, "that the Baroness begged me to make her apologies--an
indisposition--her nerves are so shaken----"
"What a pity," said Herr von Wallbach. "Will you have the kindness,
Carla, to tell Louisa? It makes no difficulty, as I was to have taken
in the Baroness. Baroness Kniebreche claims you, Signor Giraldi."
Giraldi bowed. Carla had gone. "One moment," whispered Wallbach,
holding back Giraldi by the arm. "I am glad, very glad, that the
Baroness is not coming. This is a day of surprises. To-day, to our
inexpressible astonishment--Lübbener cannot get over it at all--Golm
paid the half million down! The concession, for the publication of
which we feared we should have weeks to wait, as there was still some
difficulty about the security, will appear to-morrow in the _Gazette_.
Yes, my dear sir, you may rely upon it. I know it for certain from Herr
von Stumm, who implored me not to betray him. It was to be a delightful
surprise, on the part of the Ministers, for us; and--and--my dear
friend, I am not easily put out of countenance, but _c'est plus fort
que moi_--from the same unquestionable source I have learnt that the
General's name does not appear in the _Military Gazette_ which will be
published to-morrow."
"Which means?" asked Giraldi.
"Which means that he is passed over, and that, according to our ideas,
he will be forced to send in his resignation."
"How extraordinary!" said Giraldi.
"There is no doubt about it," continued Wallbach excitedly; "I could
certainly understand the step, even see its necessity, if it had been
the only means by which our affair could have been carried through; but
as we have the concession in our pocket without that, it is----"
"An unnecessary cruelty."
"Is it not? and one which will have further consequences. I prophesy
that Ottomar will not go to St. Petersburg."
"But that would be more than cruel, it would be absurd," said Giraldi.
"You do not know our ways. There is great consistency in such things
with us."
Giraldi was spared an answer. In the doorway to the drawing-room
appeared, supported on Carla's arm, the bent form of an old lady who
was waving an immense black fan up and down, and cried out loudly in a
cracked voice:
"If Signor Giraldi will not come to old Kniebreche, old Kniebreche must
go to Signor Giraldi."
"I fly, my dear madam!" said Giraldi.