The two friends wandered up and down the brightly-illuminated platform
of the station, waiting for the train. Uncle Ernst's carriage which had
brought them, had come very quickly, the train was only just being made
up, they had still nearly half an hour.
"You will not stop in Sundin?" said Justus.
"Only to-morrow," answered Reinhold; "I hope that will suffice to
present myself before the President, and my immediate superiors, the
Government surveyor, and the other gentlemen, and to receive my
instructions."
"I think the President has been here," said Justus, "for the last four
days. He is to be Chairman of the Board for the new railway. They made
him the most splendid offer, I am told."
"So the papers say, but I do not believe it," answered Reinhold. "A man
like the President could not agree to such a project, and moreover, if
he were here, he would certainly have sent for me."
"And the day after to-morrow you will be at your post with a
north-easter whistling in your ears, and will swagger about in your
pilot coat. What a lucky man you are!"
Justus sighed; Reinhold looked at his friend, who, with downcast eyes
walked dejectedly beside him, and then burst into a fit of laughter.
"It is all very well to laugh," said Justus; "'laden with foreign
treasures, he returns to his former home,' but how do I stand? A
leafless stem."
"Do not cry yourself down, Justus."
"Ah! cry myself down!" said Justus; "do you mean to say that it is not
enough to drive a poor fellow mad! I meant to have spared you this
to-day, so as not to disturb your happiness and joy; but perhaps it is
better for me to tell you now, instead of writing to you as I intended.
You will be in his immediate neighbourhood, and will surely do me the
kindness to go over some day and appeal to the old gentleman's
conscience--though I don't believe he is old."
"Alack!" said Reinhold, "blows the wind in that quarter?"
"And how it blows!" cried Justus, "so that one can neither see nor
hear. You know that Meta wrote to me on her arrival that every thing
was going capitally. Mamma was, as she foresaw, entirely on her side,
but papa, of course, made a tremendous row--only then, as she also
foretold, to give in utterly a little while after, supposing that the
'stone-cutter' could maintain his daughter suitably, as he could give
her nothing--not a shilling--he was a poor, ruined man. Good! I accept
the ruined father-in-law, and he accepts me upon my showing that I had
already for some years made--but you know all about that, and I only
repeat it now to set before you in its proper light the abominable
treachery of this man."
Justus had halted under a lamp, and took a letter out of his pocket.
"If the spelling leaves something to be desired, the letters are big
enough, as you see, and the interpretation is clear enough from one
point of view at any rate."
Justus struck the crumpled leaf with the back of his hand, and read:
"'Sir' (the first time I was 'Dear Sir'),
"'In consequence of a telegram that I have just received from Berlin,
the state of my affairs is so completely altered, my daughter's future
prospects are so entirely changed, that the position which you can
offer her at the best no longer appears sufficient to me; and before I
give a final answer'--as if he had not done so already, the Jesuit!--'I
must, as a conscientious man and provident father, beg for a few weeks
delay, until the fortunate conjuncture of circumstances which has just
occurred for me can be completely gone into.
"'Sincerely yours,
"'Otto von Strummin,
"'Lord of the Manor of Strummin,
Member of the Assembly, Vice-President
of the Agricultural Society of ----'
"I can't read that--but it is enough!"
And Justus crumpled up the unfortunate letter, and with a scornful
snort stuffed it again into his pocket.
"Am I not right, Reinhold? Every possible difficulty stands in your
path, I admit, but through it all, at the worst, you have to deal with
a man who is the very soul of honour, and on whose word once given--and
he will give it--you may rely. You can build your house upon a solid
foundation, but how can a man build a house upon sand--treacherous
quicksand, which, when he thinks he is as firmly fixed as the
Colossus of Rhodes, gives way under his feet? If I only knew what
the 'Lord of the Manor' really means! It is my belief that the whole
story--telegram, conjuncture, every thing--is all dust which he wants
to throw into my eyes to get rid of me--don't you think so?"
"Of course he wants to get rid of you," answered Reinhold, "and the
man's meaning is pitiful enough; but the matter to which he alludes has
some truth in it, and I think I can tell you what it all means. Herr
von Strummin has probably, for some reason or another, been kept in the
dark as to the position of the question of the concession, so as to
shut him out of a share of the first rich booty, possibly has been
persuaded that the concession will not be granted. Disordered as his
affairs appear to be, perhaps in a desperate condition, he was
delighted to see his daughter provided for, and shut both eyes (which,
by the way, are somewhat prominent) to the 'stone-cutter's' position.
Now he has been informed that the concession is a _fait accompli_, some
additional promises--God knows what--have been made to him, and
everything looks bright to him. He reminds himself that he is lord of
the manor and so forth, and that it is his duty to protect his daughter
from a mesalliance. You see it is again the old pitiful bargaining with
men's hearts, sticking to insane prejudices at the expense of all sound
morality. But console yourself, Justus, it is not you, but Herr von
Strummin who has built his house upon sand. He will find it out soon
enough, and he will come to you and say, 'My dear sir, I have been
terribly in the wrong, and here is my daughter's hand.'"
"That would be splendid," said Justus, smiling in spite of his trouble,
"only--I do not believe in it."
"Justus! Justus!" cried Reinhold; "do I hear this from you? From whom
have I learnt that sandstone is hard to work, but marble much harder,
and that whoso works all his life in sandstone and marble must take
life easy, if he would not have the devil take possession of him. Do
you really mean him to take possession of you?"
"You may well say that," answered Justus; "I do not recognise myself
any longer. It is as if gipsies had stolen me in the night, and left a
miserable, dismal, incapable sneak in my place. All that I have lately
done has been rubbish, which I would undo were I not certain that I
should make it still worse. Oh! this love! this love! I have always
foreseen it, I have always said it would be fatal to me; it always has
been fatal to every artist. To-day, whilst you were paying your visit,
I glanced into Ferdinanda's studio. She is working at a Bacchante--in
her present mood! but there is genius in it, only it is carried to
madness, to absolute caricature. That is what she has got by it, that
glorious creature! Uncle Ernst is all right again. He has allowed
himself to be elected delegate of the city, because he has not got
enough to do, and next year will have himself elected to the Chamber of
Deputies and the Imperial Diet, and will stupefy himself with work,
which is at any rate more wholesome than wine. But poor, poor
Ferdinanda! I think, Reinhold, you must get in."
The platform had meanwhile filled with travellers, some of whom hurried
into the opened carriages, or after taking possession of their places,
stood chatting at the doors. Amongst the latter was a party of young
men in shooting dress, whom the two friends had just passed.
"I don't think he will come," said one of them, in whom Reinhold
thought he recognised Herr von Tettritz.
"Seems so," said another--Herr von Wartenberg, as Reinhold, turning his
head, convinced himself.
From the door of the waiting-room hastily appeared a gentleman, also in
shooting-dress, followed by a soldier-servant carrying the game-bag and
gun over his shoulder. It was Ottomar.
And Ottomar, for all his haste, had at once recognised the two friends.
They saw how he started, and then, as if he had remarked nothing,
passed on, but suddenly turned round.
"I am not mistaken. Good-evening, gentlemen. You are coming with us?"
"I am," said Reinhold, "to Sundin."
"Ah! I heard as much from my sister, who, I think, had it from Fräulein
von Strummin, and also at Wallbach's, from whom I have just come. You
have got the post; I congratulate. Sorry I was not at home this
morning. Parade, barracks--nonsense! You may be thankful that you have
nothing more to do with such stuff. I envy you, by Jove! It's shameful
that we have seen so little of each other lately. It's a little your
fault too; you might have let yourself be seen again. I shall heap
coals of fire on your head, and visit you at Wissow--next spring. Golm
has invited me to shoot snipe--best in all Germany, so he says, and I
believe him--for once. My sister will very likely come earlier--to
Warnow; perhaps Fräulein von Wallbach also. My aunt Valerie, who finds
this place too noisy, has invited both the young ladies. _Au revoir_,
then, or will you--but that will not do--we are already six. We are
only going as far as Schönau, a property belonging to an uncle of the
Captain's. _Au revoir_, then. I will soon pay you a visit too, if you
will allow me--it was delightful in your studio. I must also see
Fräulein von Strummin; I hear she is wonderfully----"
"Take your seats, gentlemen!" said the guard.
"Werben, Werben!"
"Coming! Good-bye, good-bye!"
Ottomar shook hands with the friends in passing, and hurried to his
clamouring companions.
"Does he know?" asked Justus.
"No--by-and-by, perhaps; it is, for the present, a strict secret
between Elsa and me. I shall write to the General from Wissow."
"It is better so," said Justus.
Reinhold did not answer. The evening of his arrival stood out suddenly,
with all its details, in his memory. How eagerly Ottomar had then
sought his friendship, how heartily Uncle Ernst had received him,
how Ferdinanda herself had welcomed him! And now! It was not his
fault--that was at least a consolation.
"Here is an empty carriage," said Justus.
"Farewell, my dear Justus! Say goodbye again to Cilli for me, and Herr
Kreisel, and tell him not to trust in the Sundin-Wissow; and hearty
thanks for your friendship and affection."
"Not a word more, or--I am desperately sentimental to-day. This
love--this horrible----"
Justus smothered the rest of his blasphemy in a mighty embrace, pulled
his broad-brimmed hat over his eyes, and rushed away.
"Good fellow!" said Reinhold to himself, as he arranged his goods in
the carriage. "I never should have credited him with it. Strange! What
has restored to me courage, and the old feeling of security, has robbed
him of his ready creative power and his cheery humour. And yet the
impediments which lie in his way are child's-play compared to those
that surround us. God grant he may soon smile again! Cilli is right--he
cannot live without sunshine."
Reinhold had seated himself. The signal for starting had already been
given, when the door was again thrown open, and a gentleman was hastily
bundled in by the guard.
"Here, please, I have no more empty carriages. Your ticket at the next
station!"
The guard shut the door.
"Good-evening, President; allow me," said Reinhold, taking the
President's great travelling-bag and putting it in the net.
"Good gracious! is it you?" cried the President. "Where are you going?"
"I would not fail to present myself before you in Sundin on the 1st of
December, according to your orders," answered Reinhold, rather
surprised.
"Yes, yes, of course!" said the President. "Pardon me--such a stupid
question! I am so worried, so perplexed--once more, forgive me!" And he
stretched out his hand to Reinhold with his accustomed gracious
friendliness.
"It is quite unnecessary, President," said Reinhold; "I know that you
are busied about more important things and men."
"Yes, yes, more important things," said the President--"evil things!
And the men--these men, these men--pray sit opposite to me! One can
talk so much better, and I am very glad to see an honest face again."
The President wrapped his rug round his knees. His fine, clever face
looked pale and worn, and the touch of quiet irony and sarcastic humour
which Reinhold had noticed at their first meeting had altogether failed
him.
"I have been four days in Berlin," said the President, "and should
certainly have begged you to come and see me, only, to confess the
truth, I have been skulking about like a criminal with the police after
him, so as not to be seen by any respectable men, if I could avoid it.
Perhaps you know what took me to Berlin?"
"The papers, President----"
"Yes, yes, the papers. Unfortunately there is no longer any decent
obscurity. Everything will come out, and if it were only confined to
the truth!--but unfortunately it is generally neither the whole truth,
nor even the half. What falsehoods have not people--that is to say, the
gentlemen concerned in the matter--told about me! I was concerning
myself actively in the existence of the railroad, working for
it, dinning into the Minister's ears that the concession must be
granted--I, who have fought against it from the first, and warned the
Minister most strenuously against it! Then, as that would not do, they
attacked me from the other side. I had been an opponent, a determined
opponent--I had been convinced at last--Saul had become Paul. That
sounded more probable, but not probable enough. I was not convinced--I
was simply bought. That was believed at once--it spoke for itself. A
President, with his few thousand thalers salary, notoriously devoid of
private fortune, the father of six children--how could he withstand
such inducements! It is a shame and disgrace that it was believed, as
it will be believed to-morrow, that there was not enough offered! The
crafty fellow knows only too well what he is worth; he will quietly
bide his time, watch for his opportunity, and feather his nest well!'
That is the worst, you see. Confidence, is shaken in the honour and
integrity of our officials. It is the beginning of the end for me--the
threatening cloud which foreshadows a future which I pray God I may
never live to see!"
The President tugged here and there at his rug which he was generally
so careful to keep smooth, unfastened his kid gloves which he had just
buttoned, and drew them off his trembling hands. Reinhold himself was
moved by the intense emotion of a man usually so cautious and so
shrouded in diplomatic mists.
"It would be presumption in me," he said, "if I ventured to contradict
a man of your great experience and judgment. Nevertheless I cannot
refrain from suggesting that, just because the case concerns you so
nearly, you may perhaps see it in too black a light."
"May be, may be!" said the President, "but this is no isolated case;
there are others which unfortunately speak on my side, where high
officials have succumbed to the temptation put before them. And
then----"
He was silent for a few minutes, and then continued even more
excitedly:
"If the higher powers only had tact, I say--only tact not to strengthen
this most dangerous, and I confess exaggerated, tendency of the public
mind to suspicion and distrust. But you will feel it painfully--the
slightest acquaintance was sufficient to make one honour and respect
the man--General von Werben----"
"I know, President," said Reinhold, as the President again became
silent; "and my acquaintance with that excellent man has not been a
transient one."
"Well then, what do you say to this?" cried the President. "Differences
have existed between him and the Minister, I know; differences which
must have been settled by a superior authority. It is difficult, it is
almost impossible to work with any one who is determined not to act in
concert. One must give way, and of course the inferior; but just at
this time that should have been avoided. It will throw fresh oil into
the fire, as if it did not burn fiercely enough already, as if matters
had not already been made easy enough for these promoters! They will
laugh in their sleeves: 'Do you see that? do you hear that? We had
just intended, modest as we are, to take our shares into the market
to-morrow at 75; but now we ask 80--85! Paper that can send a General
von Werben flying, cannot be difficult to float!'
"You will see, my dear sir, they will trumpet it in all the papers,
and--even if it is all false--if the General's position were untenable,
the mob goes by outward appearance, judges by outward appearance,
and--outward appearance is against us."
The rug slipped from his knees, but he never seemed to observe it.
"And if that were all! But we, of whom our illustrious sovereign has so
rightly said that we are appointed by fate to eat our bread in the
sweat of our brow, we begin to desire to live for show, for glittering
useless show. Take this railway business; it is all show whichever way
you look at it--good high roads, decent communal roads are all that we
need for the moderate requirements of our island, which the prospectus
boastfully calls the 'granary of Germany.' Show is the security upon
the ground of which alone the concession can be obtained; I know that
they could not raise even the few hundred thousand thalers. The
subscriptions according to rule from 'good and substantial houses,' are
show--shameful show; the only real subscription is from Prince Prora,
through whose territory nearly a third of the railway passes; the other
ten million are from Count Golm, and Co.--and not one thaler is paid
up, or ever will be paid. So it goes on, so it must go on. You can't
gather figs from thistles, and as to what is to be expected from that
magnificent harbour which is to crown the whole, well, you know all
about that as well as or better than I do."
The President stood up and went to the window, through which the lights
of the town were already disappearing. Then he came back to his place
and said as he leant over towards Reinhold, in an almost mysterious
voice:
"Do you remember a conversation on the evening when I had the pleasure
of making your acquaintance at the Count's table at Golmberg? I have
so often thought of it lately. Your storm--I hope to God it may not
come--but if it comes as you have prophesied, I should take it for a
parable of what is hanging over us. Yes! for a sign from heaven! to
awaken us, to startle us out of our criminal intoxication, out of our
empty, visionary life, to withdraw the glittering show from our eyes,
to show us, as Fichte says, 'that which is.' Ah! where is the hand
which would now write us 'Speeches to the German nation?' I would bless
that hand. Instead of it our philosophers prate about the intellect,
which is meant for nothing but to lead the will into absurdities, and
to crush and destroy all joy and cheerfulness which is yet the mother
of all virtues; and our poets are disciples of the French school, and
learn how to be frivolous and disreputable to the heart's core without
offending external proprieties, or wander, poor creatures, with their
beggar's staves in the ruins of the age, and try to make us believe
that the clouds of dust that they raise are creatures of flesh and
blood; and our composers show forth the _blasé_ impudence, the
shameless sensuality of the age in music which fairly bewilders the
moral and æsthetic feelings of the great and small world, or heats the
fevered blood to madness.
"It cannot remain so. It is impossible; a nation cannot continue to
dance before the golden calf and sacrifice to Moloch. Either it will be
overwhelmed in the flood of its sins, or it must cling to the saving
Ararat of honest, manly, and middle-class virtue. God grant that our
people may have strength for the latter. There are times when I despair
of it."
The President leant back and closed his eyes. Did he wish to break off
the conversation? Was he too much exhausted to pursue it further? At
any rate, Reinhold did not venture to express the thoughts with which
his heart was full. Each sat silent in his corner. The last lights of
the town had long disappeared. Over the broad, dark plain, through
which the train rushed, lay a light covering of snow, from which the
woods rose up gloomily. Above, in the darkening sky, sparkled and
shone, in countless numbers, the eternal stars.
Reinhold's eyes were gazing upwards. How often had he so gazed from the
deck of his ship on stormy winter nights with an anxious, fearful
heart! And his heart had again beat high with courage, if only one of
the loved and trusted lights illuminated his lonely path. And now, when
they all beamed upon him, those silver stars--and greater, mightier
than all, the star of his love--now, should he lose courage? Never! The
storm might come--it would find him ready; it would find him at his
post.
BOOK V.
CHAPTER I.
Dinner had been over an hour at Castle Warnow. Frau von Wallbach, Elsa,
and Count Golm, who had been invited to dinner, were sitting in the
drawing-room round the hearth, on which but a small fire was burning.
Although only just the end of February, the day had been wonderfully
sultry. François even had to open the window, and it was not to be
wondered at that the Baroness should have been seized with one of her
bad headaches at dinner, and directly they got up from the table should
have begged leave to withdraw. Carla had gone to put on her habit, not
wishing to lose the opportunity of riding once more, escorted by
several gentlemen. Herr von Strummin, who had paid a neighbourly
morning visit and remained to the early country dinner, now wished, or
was obliged, to return home, and had gone to see after the horses.
Count Golm, who had really intended to spend the evening at Warnow, now
thought it would be better, in consideration of the Baroness's
indisposition, to return to Golm after the ride without again
dismounting, and at once took leave of the ladies.
He had hoped that Elsa, to whom he had addressed himself, would have
protested, at least with some polite phrase, which he might have
accepted as genuine.
But Elsa was silent, and Frau von Wallbach with difficulty concealed a
fit of yawning, as she leaned back in her arm-chair, and with her hand
before her mouth, seemed to be making a minute inspection of the
ceiling.
The Count bit his lip.
"I am afraid we have not been very lively company for the ladies," he
said. "Strummin was really unbearable. I believe he drank three bottles
to his own share, and spoke about as many words. I think such silence
must be catching, or is it in the air? It is really just like May, when
the first thunderstorms come. What a pity that Captain Schmidt did not
accept your aunt's invitation, Fräulein Elsa! he might, perhaps, have
told us the meaning of this wonderfully sultry state of the atmosphere.
I wonder why he did not come?"
The Count seldom missed an opportunity of reflecting upon Reinhold in
what he imagined to be a peculiarly sarcastic and witty manner. It
could only be the consequence of the blind hatred with which, from the
first he had honoured him.
Reinhold had once visited Warnow during the last week, and that for an
hour only. They had certainly never given any one the slightest
indication by which a clue could be found to the nature of their mutual
relations, yet the Count's last remark sent the blood up into Elsa's
cheek.
"Captain Schmidt only expressed his regret that he had no time to avail
himself of our invitation to-day," she said.
"I should like to know what a man like that has to do," returned the
Count. "He does not, so far as I know, manage the boat himself, but
looks on comfortably from the shore. A mere sinecure, it seems to me."
"Perhaps you do not clearly understand the duties and cares of a man in
such a position, Count Golm?"
"Very likely. For instance, I cannot understand why it is his duty, or
why he gives himself the trouble to interfere in the strangest and most
perverse way with my harbour works. Amongst other things, I know it for
a fact that we owe to his suggestion, or rather his denunciation----"
"Forgive me for interrupting you," said Elsa; "the gentleman of whom
you are speaking possesses the regard, I may say the affection, of my
father; he is my--friend, received by my aunt at Warnow. I do not think
it right to allow him to be cried down here--in his absence."
"But," cried the Count, "you completely misunderstand me. I had not the
slightest intention of maligning that gentleman. I call it a
denunciation, because----"
"Perhaps you will be so kind as to take some opportunity of mentioning
the matter before him; I am certain that he will give you a
satisfactory answer. Dear Louisa, will you excuse my going to see after
my aunt? she may want me."
Elsa bent over Frau von Wallbach's chair, then, drawing herself up,
made the Count a civil but cold bow, and left the drawing-room.
"This is too much!" said the Count, looking after her; "what do you
think of that, Frau von Wallbach? To make such a fuss about this man,
who cavils at everything. Just imagine that he may manage to bring
matters to such a pass, that we shall not dare to demolish the dunes on
the left of Ahlbeck, in spite of the position being absolutely
necessary to us as a depôt for our materials! He asserts that the dunes
are a protection for the whole coast. Just fancy! Sixty feet of beach
at the narrowest part, and then to talk of protecting the coast!
Absurd! And our dear President of course----"
"My dear Count," said Frau von Wallbach, turning her head towards the
Count, "what does it all matter to me?"
"Pardon me, my dear lady," said the Count; "I thought----"
"And I am already bored to death," exclaimed Frau von Wallbach; "good
gracious, how bored I am! This week--oh! this week! If I could only
write to Wallbach to come and fetch me back!"
"We should miss you dreadfully," said the Count.
"I think you would get on very well without me," said Frau von
Wallbach; "and besides, my dear Count, this cannot go on any longer.
Either you must make up your minds, or you must give it up. Do you
think Elsa is blind?"
"Bah!" said the Count, "Fräulein Elsa has got her interesting
Superintendent of Pilots!"
"Yes," said Frau von Wallbach; "you are always talking about that; but
I have lately watched them both closely, and I tell you it is
nonsense."
"I have it on the best authority."
"From Signor Giraldi, of course; he knows everything! And yet it was
Signor Giraldi who originally interested himself in your engagement to
Elsa. I cannot understand it. It is such a bore to be groping in the
dark like this."
The Count, for whom there were also many obscure points in this
delicate affair, thought it high time to break off the conversation.
"I think the horses must have been brought round," he said, rising and
kissing Frau von Wallbach's hand; "excuse me for to-day; to-morrow, if
you will permit it, I will call again. I want to show Fräulein Carla
the harbour works. She interests herself very much about them. I hope
that you will be of the party. _Au revoir!_"
He hurried away without waiting for the lady's answer.
As he passed hastily through the anteroom, from which doors opened on
all sides, Carla came towards him, holding her whip in one hand and in
the other her hat and gloves.
"Your sister-in-law is still in the drawing-room," he said out loud.
"Thank you," replied Carla equally distinctly.
He made her a sign with hand and eye.
"Have you examined this charming old painting yet?"
"Which one!"
"This one, here! look!"
They had moved so far on one side that they could not well be seen from
the drawing-room, of which the portières were open.
"One only," whispered the Count.
"You are mad!"
"The first--and last to-day."
She put up her lips to him.
"Angel!"
"Really charming!" said Carla out loud; and then in a whisper, "For
heaven's sake, go away!"
She vanished into the drawing-room, and the Count rushed into the
corridor. Neither had remarked, their whole attention being directed to
the drawing-room, that at the moment when their lips met the portière
of a second door, which led to the inner apartments, was lifted, and as
quickly dropped again.
"Is Elsa gone?" asked Carla. "I wanted to say good-bye to her."
Frau von Wallbach turned her head so far as to be able to see Carla if
necessary. "I have spoken to him."
"What did you say?" asked Carla eagerly.
"That it is too boring here, and I cannot stand it any longer."
"That was all?"
"It was enough for me. You must manage for yourself."
"But Edward himself thinks your presence necessary here."
"Your brother cannot expect that I should bore myself to death for
you."
Carla shrugged her shoulders. "You will be in a better temper
to-morrow. Good-bye!"
"I go to-morrow, you may depend upon that."
To hear a decided resolution from her sister-in-law was something so
extraordinary, that Carla, who was already at the door, turned round
again. "But, Louisa----"
"Well, I do not see it at all," said Frau von Wallbach. "Elsa is always
amiable to me, much more so than you are. I was really sorry for the
Baroness to-day, to see the trouble she took without receiving the
slightest thanks from you, and I am sorry for poor Ottomar. Whatever
he may be, he does not show me that he thinks me a fool, as you do,
and I do not think it seemly that behind his aunt's back in her own
house----"
"Warnow has long belonged to the Count," said Carla.
"It is all the same. We are staying here with the Baroness, and not
with the Count. If you wish to stay with the Count, marry him--for all
I care. But I think you would be sorry if you gave up Ottomar, and I do
not see how it would be possible now. However, do as you please--I go!"
The unheard-of obstinacy of her sister-in-law began to make Carla
really uneasy. She laid her things down on a chair, knelt by Louisa's
side, and as she held and stroked her hand, said in a soft coaxing
voice, "My sweet pet will never hurt me so. She will not leave poor
Carla in her need. Ottomar is too bad. I know now, from Giraldi, why he
proposed to me, because he was refused by Ferdinanda Schmidt, and he is
still madly in love with her, and is making use of his former mistress
to win her back. And Giraldi says that he has so many debts that his
whole inheritance would not pay them, even if Elsa--and Giraldi knows
everything, everything, I tell you--married that man; and you yourself
would hardly wish to have the wife of a Superintendent of Pilots for a
sister-in-law--would you, my sweet pet!"
"That is all nonsense," said Frau von Wallbach, with a feeble and
fruitless attempt to draw her hand away from Carla's. "You never had
scruples about Ottomar's mistresses formerly. I am certain that the
Count also has his mistresses--all men have; and the same with regard
to his debts. The Count has certainly as many--and perhaps more."
"But not such bad ones," said Carla hastily. "He has terrible debts,
Giraldi says."
"The fact is," said Frau von Wallbach, "you are over head and ears in
love with the Count."
"And if I say yes, will my sweetest Louisa remain here?" whispered
Carla, suddenly throwing her arms round her sister-in-law and laying
her head on her shoulder.
"You will see, no good will come of it."
François looked into the room. "I beg pardon, but the Count has sent to
ask if mademoiselle----"
"I am coming," cried Carla, stretching out her hand for her hat. "You
will, will you not, sweet pet?--please fasten the elastic of my hat
behind--you will remain! Thanks! Adieu, sweet pet!"
She once more embraced her sister-in-law, took her gloves from the
chair, and hastened away, her skirt trailing far behind her.
"If it were only not such a bore!" said Frau von Wallbach, sinking back
in her chair.
When the Count came down, the horses had just been brought round. Herr
von Strummin was sitting on a bench which encircled the trunk of a
wide-spreading lime-tree, and playing with the point of his riding-whip
in the fine gravel.
"You have come at last?" he said, looking up angrily.
"Fräulein von Wallbach wishes to say good-bye again to the ladies,"
said the Count, seating himself by the side of his friend, "and it is
rather a long business. We shall still have some little time to wait."
"So much the better," said Herr von Strummin; "I have not for a long
time had the pleasure of speaking to you for a minute alone. So,
without any beating about the bush--I am very sorry, but I must have
back my five thousand thalers."
"I am very sorry too, my dear Strummin," replied the Count, laughing,
"because I cannot repay them."
"Cannot repay me!" exclaimed Herr von Strummin, as the colour grew
still deeper in his red face. "But you told me that I could count upon
it at any time."
"Because I naturally supposed that you would not choose just the most
unsuitable time. You know that I must pay off that mortgage to-morrow."
"Why did you give notice to pay it off? It was most imprudent. I told
you so from the first."
"I wanted to save the interest; and if you can get back two million for
one--in the meantime--of course--as things stand at present----"
"You may be thankful that the directors have postponed the date of
payment of the second instalment, which was due to-morrow."
"Certainly," said the Count; "it is very kind of the gentlemen. I
should have been in a terrible position; but it has not made my
situation even now particularly pleasant. That confounded mortgage! My
creditor is most disagreeably pressing; he says he must have the money
back."
"Perhaps it may now transpire who this creditor really is whom you make
such a mystery about?"
"I have given my word of honour----"
"Then say nothing. It is all the same to me, moreover; and if you can
pay half a million to-morrow to the gentleman in question, you can also
raise my five thousand!"
"I do not know yet whether I shall be able to pay!" cried the Count
impatiently--"Lübbener--Haselow and Co.--I could not stand Lübbener any
longer--unlimited orders to sell; but if to-morrow our shares go down
still further--they stood the day before yesterday at forty-five----"
"And yesterday at twenty-five!"
"Impossible!" cried the Count.
"Good heavens, man! have you never troubled yourself to inquire, then?"
"I--I--my letters lately--the presence of the ladies here--there are so
many claims upon me----"
"So it seems," replied Herr von Strummin, taking a letter out of his
pocket. "I got _my_ banker to write to me yesterday, as I saw what was
impending, and have carried his letter about with me since this
morning. I have already been over to Golm, too, to tell you of it." He
unfolded the letter: "Sundin-Wissows were offered freely to-day at
thirty-five; no buyers. They then rose to forty-five on large
purchases. When it became known, however, that Lübbener himself was the
buyer, merely to keep up the price, they fell rapidly, and closed at
twenty-five! Please telegraph distinct orders whether to sell at any
price. A further fall is inevitable.' There you have the whole affair."
"It is certainly bad," murmured the Count.
"And whom have we to thank for all this?" cried Herr von Strummin.
"You--you only! You first led us into the affair, and promised all
sorts of things, and then prudently left us in the dark until you had
pocketed your profits as promoter. Then we fell further into the trap,
and had to pay up heavily; and finally you throw half a million into
the market, and bring down the value of our own shares. And I, like a
fool, gave you the last penny I had; and instead of looking after your
own affairs, as it was your bounden duty to do, you hang about here
with the women, and----"
"I think that last clause has nothing to do with the matter." said the
Count, getting up.
"Nothing to do with it!" cried the other, also springing to his feet.
"Very well! very well! ruin yourself if you please, but at least leave
other people out of the game. And I tell you, that if by twelve o'clock
the day after to-morrow my five thousand thalers, which I lent you on
your word of honour, are not lying on my table at Strummin to the
uttermost farthing----"
"For heaven's sake do not speak so loud," said the Count; "you shall
have your money, although I am convinced that the great trousseau is
only a pretext----"
"A pretext? a pretext?" cried Herr von Strummin, raising his rough
voice if possible still louder; "pretext indeed! when Meta is herself
gone this morning to Berlin, to----"
"This morning?" said the Count, with a jeering laugh; "excuse my
remarking, _mon cher_, that was very imprudent of you! Our shares may
rise again, and--the stone-cutter will not run away."
Herr von Strummin's light blue eyes almost started out of his burning
face. He became suddenly hoarse with passion.
"What, what, what!" he snarled. "A stone-cutter? An artist! and a great
artist, who every year makes his six to ten thousand--a stone-cutter?"
"I only say it because you always call him so yourself."
"I can call my son-in-law anything I choose, but if any one else
permits himself to do so, he shall eat his words as sure as I----"
"You gentlemen must certainly have grown very impatient," said Carla,
who came out of the door just at this moment.
"Not at all," said the Count, turning on his heel and hastening towards
her.
"Yes, very impatient!" cried Herr von Strummin, who had suddenly
recovered his voice. "I was only waiting to take my leave; I must be at
Strummin in half an hour. I hope the conversation will get on better
without me; I have the honour----"
He snatched the reins of his great strong-boned black horse out of the
groom's hand, swung himself into the saddle, and sticking his spurs
into the animal's sides, galloped out of the courtyard.
"Good gracious!" whispered Carla, "what does it mean?"
"A little row," said the Count, hiding the excitement into which the
altercation had thrown him as well as he could under a forced smile;
"nothing uncommon between old friends."
"And the cause?"
"A last attempt, it seemed to me, to get a Count for a son-in-law,
before accepting a sculptor."
The Count had assisted Carla into her saddle, put the riding-whip into
her hand, and was now arranging her skirt.
Carla bent towards him: "You bad man, I will give you a lecture on the
way."
"Pity it cannot be without a witness," whispered the Count, with a look
towards the groom, who was holding the reins of the other two horses.
"You are really too bad!"
"At your service," said the Count out loud, and he stepped back and
signed to the groom. He swung himself on to his horse, and started off
with Carla, followed by the groom at a considerable distance. He had
had some trouble in getting into his saddle.
END OF VOL. II.
* * * * *
BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD, SURREY.