"Life went on quietly in the house without a master. Anna Maria was busy
until late in the evening; she possessed an endless capacity for work.
'I can bear Klaus's absence easier so,' she said, when I urged her to
give herself some rest. 'I miss him infinitely, aunt!' Stuermer came
occasionally to inquire for the ladies. Once he arrived at the same time
with Anna Maria; she, like him, was on horseback; they had probably met
on the highway, for Anna Maria came from the fields, the bailiff behind
her. I was standing at the window with Susanna. 'What a splendid
couple!' said I, involuntarily, and indeed I thought I had scarcely ever
seen Anna Maria look so handsome.
"Klaus wrote rarely; those times were not like the present, and one was
well satisfied to receive a letter once a fortnight. Anna Maria answered
promptly; her accounts must have been sufficiently detailed, for no
letter or inquiry in regard to our secret came to me. Anna Maria used to
read Klaus's letters, with the exception of the business portions,
aloud, after supper. There was a certain homesick sound in the words,
calmly and coolly as they were written. But her face beamed at every
word which he wrote from the enchanted Silesia in praise of the poor
home in the Mark; it stirred her whole heart. Next to her tender
affection for her brother, she clung with an idolizing love to her
home; no mountain lake could compare with the brown, oak-bound pond in
the garden, no high mountain-range with the charm of the heath, with the
pine-forests in the cradle of Prussia.
"And the object which doubled all the longing, which made the old
manor-house at Buetze seem in the eyes of the distant owner like a fairy
castle, like a rendezvous of the elves--this object sat playing with her
kitten during the reading, and now and then I even had to tap her
shoulder as she yawned slightly.
"'Is that only feigned indifference?' I asked myself. Then, again, a
sad, weary smile would play about her mouth if Klaus were the subject of
conversation. I thought at the time that she was fretting over the
long-delayed continuation of that hot declaration of love; that she,
with her ardent nature, was tormenting herself to death with doubts. And
I could not speak a consoling word to her; Klaus did not wish it. Why
should Susanna be spared a
"'Hangen und Bangen
In schwebender Pein'?
"One morning a peasant lad came running into the yard, bringing a letter
for Susanna; the old mam'selle at the forge had sent him, he said. I met
him on the steps, just as I was coming in from the garden, and bade
Brockelmann go up to Susanna with the note, which was written on the
finest letter-paper. The boy trotted away, and I sat down with Anna
Maria in the sitting-room. In a few minutes Susanna's light step was
heard in the hall, and she entered the room in haste.
"'I must beg you for a carriage, Fraeulein Anna Maria!' she cried, out of
breath; 'my old Isa is ill: I must go to her.'
"Anna Maria put down her pen, rather unwillingly, at this disturbance;
she had been making out accounts.
"'But, Susanna, how often have I requested you not to walk so fast? You
are out of breath again.'
"'Shall we not find out first what is the matter with Isa?' said I, for
all at once Klaus's words, 'Hold your hands over this girl!' fell
heavily on my soul. Klaus had asked it of me. Klaus was no child; he was
a calm, strong-willed man, and he was going to make her his wife, and I
knew he would accuse me, bitterly accuse me, if a hair of her head were
hurt.
"'It might be a contagious disease, Susanna,' I continued, with all the
decision at my command, as her eyes sparkled at my opposition.
"'And what if it were the plague?' she cried, and clinched her little
hands, and swung her foot impatiently under the folds of her dress.
"Anna Maria stood up. 'For shame, Susanna! I think you are quite right
to wish to take care of Isa; it would be unnatural if you did not have
this desire. But you have scarcely recovered, and a long stay in that
musty little sick-room would be poison to you; and besides, as Aunt
Rosamond says, the disease may be contagious; we must find out about it
first.'
"'And meanwhile she may grow worse and die!' cried Susanna passionately.
'What if I do take the disease? I must go to her!' And bursting into
tears, she threw herself into a chair, and buried her head in the
cushions. Anna Maria went up to her and bent over her.
"'Susanna,' she said, kindly, 'a sensible woman shall go at once to your
Isa. And now compose yourself; I have a quiet word to say to you when I
come back.'
"'God knows what that may mean!' I thought, looking at the weeping girl.
'What does she mean to say quietly to her?' I stroked Susanna's hair
gently. 'Do not cry, _ma petite_,' I said, consolingly. 'Everything is
in God's hand. He guides and rules every human life according to his
will; trust him, he will bring it right!' I do not know if Susanna
understood me; a fresh burst of tears was the reply, and all
inconsolable sounded this bitter sobbing.
"Anna Maria came back and sat down opposite Susanna. 'Will you listen to
me rationally?' she said, somewhat severely.
"Susanna started up and gave her a defiant look. 'I am listening,' she
said.
"Just then I was called away; the pastor's sister, an early friend of
mine, had come to pay me a visit. I went, not without anxiously
regarding the two girls. What in the world could Anna Maria have in
view?
"After two mortal hours Mademoiselle Gruene took her leave; she no doubt
found me more distraught than is usually permissible; even talking over
a wedding festivity which we had attended together in the remote period
of our youth, at which Minna Gruene came very near becoming engaged, and
which ended in a fire, failed to interest me as usual. When I came
down-stairs again I found Anna Maria over her housekeeping books;
Susanna was not to be seen.
"'Anna Maria,' I asked, more hastily than is my wont, 'what have you
been talking about with Susanna?'
"'I wanted to talk with her about her future,' she replied, 'but----'
"'About her future?' I repeated, faintly.
"'Yes, indeed, aunt, for things cannot go on in this way any longer.
Susanna suffers from a dreadful disease--she has _ennui_. In my opinion
this doing nothing is enough to make the most healthy people ill.'
"'And what did she say, Anna Maria?'
"'She? she ran away as soon as she heard the one word future! Susanna is
a naughty child, and it is high time for Klaus to come back and put her
in a pension; she is worse than ever since he went away.'
"I had to smile, and yet tears came suddenly into my eyes, and yielding
to an involuntary impulse, I asked: 'Anna Maria, do you really believe
that Klaus will send Susanna away.'
"She turned about and gave me a startled look. 'Can you doubt it? He has
no doubt gone away for that express purpose. Do you not suppose the
justice could have despatched that business?'
"The next day Susanna, pale and low-spirited, drove to Dambitz, to take
care of her Isa. She had cried all night long, did not get up in the
morning, and kept on crying in her bed, till Anna Maria ordered a
carriage for her.
"Isa was said to be suffering from a stitch in the back, quite free from
danger, so there was no contagion to be feared. Susanna packed up a host
of things, as if she were going to a watering-place. Without ado, Anna
Maria took flowers, ribbons, laces, and white dresses out of the trunk,
and put in half a dozen strong aprons. 'You will have more use for
these,' she explained, gently. I was entirely opposed to this journey;
in consideration of my private instructions, I could not approve of it,
yet it seemed right to Anna Maria. 'I cannot bear the old woman either,'
she said; 'but if she is ill and wants Susanna, she must go.'
"'How could a man fall in love with this childish little creature?' I
thought, as she leaned back in the carriage with a happy smile of
satisfaction; the black crape veil floated about her small face, her
little feet were propped against the back seat, and she gracefully waved
her hand to me again. Oh! mademoiselle had the manners of a duchess,
mademoiselle will already act as Frau von Hegewitz. If Anna Maria
dreamed of that!
"A letter from Klaus came that evening. My heart began to beat, as it
always did when one came, for each time I thought Klaus would write his
sister of his love. I watched Anna Maria closely as she read; she
frowned and shook her head.
"'Klaus has had to take possession of the property, in order not to lose
everything,' she said. 'He writes that he had expected to be back in a
week, but now, alas! he is obliged to stay longer. "The harvest festival
should be kept just as if I were there,"' she read on. "You can say a
few words to the people in my place. As may easily be imagined, I have
my hands full, and there are not a few disagreeable things: in the midst
of the harvesting and nothing in order; the people a lazy, Polish
element; the bailiff a knave whom I sent off the first day! The
situation of the manor is wonderful, as well as the building itself and
the great, shady garden; however, I shall be glad when I am free from
the business at last. The high hills not far away depress me; they shut
out the view too much; how far do you suppose I can see from my window?
Just through the space between the two barns, over the wall of the
court-yard. As soon as I have things in some degree of order here I
shall have Beling (the bailiff) come and take the management in my
place. I hope you are all getting on well. Is not Aunt Rosamond going
to write me at all? Is Susanna well, perfectly well? You did not mention
her in your last letter."'
"'Aha!' thought I, as Anna Maria, reflecting, let the letter drop, 'the
longing! Oh, you foolish Klaus! And if I were to write him now, "Susanna
is in Dambitz," what would he say?'
"'I should like to drive over to-morrow to look after Susanna,' said I,
turning to Anna Maria, who was drawing in and out the colored wools on
the table-cover she was embroidering for Klaus.
"'I will wager, aunt, she will be back again to-morrow; do you think she
will hold out long there in that mean room, with the uncomfortable bed
on that neck-breaking sofa? Just wait; she will be here again before we
know it.'
"The next day Anna Maria was sitting with her table-cover beside my bed;
I had wrapped a rabbit-skin about my arms and shoulders, for the evil
rheumatism. Such an attack sometimes chained me to my bed for a week or
more, and this time I lay there feeling like a veritable culprit. I kept
thinking of Susanna, and this tormented me into a state of nervousness.
And there sat Anna Maria beside me, in her calm way taking one stitch
after another. I followed her large yet beautifully formed hand, and the
trefoil which grew under it; the lions supporting a shield were already
finished, and the last leaf would be done to-day. 'Fear thy God, kill
thine enemy, trust no friend,' was the strange motto of our family. It
doubtless originated in those times when races lived in perpetual feud
with one another, each ever ready for combat on the fortress of his
fathers.
"'Anna Maria!' I began, at length.
"She started up out of a deep revery. 'Shall I read the paper to you?'
she asked.
"'No, thank you, _mon ange_; but tell me, do you know if Susanna--is
she----'
"'She is still with her Isa, aunt,' replied Anna Maria. 'I packed up a
little basket of food for her this morning. Marieken carried it,
and----'
"'Well, Anna Maria?'
"'Oh, well, she sits by the old woman's bedside, Marieken tells me, and
round about her lie laces and ribbons and flowers; Susanna is making a
new hat or two for herself. Marieken says she had no eyes for my
appetizing basket; with cheeks as red as roses, she was all absorbed in
her finery.'
"'Incorrigible!' I murmured; 'Anna Maria, why have you let her stay
away? Is the old woman really so ill?' I added, out of humor.
"'Well, it did not seem to me so alarming from Marieken's account. If
you were not a patient yourself, aunt, I would have driven over.'
"I lay back with a sigh. Of course, I had to be ill just now. Out of
doors a cold wind was blowing over the bare fields; we should have an
early autumn. My good times were over, and now were coming again the
days of stove-heat and confinement to the house, of rabbit-skins and
herb-bags.
"'I shall invite no one to the harvest festival this year, aunt,' began
Anna Maria, after a pause. 'What would all the people do here without
Klaus? It will give me no pleasure without him; on the contrary, it is
painful to me.'
"'But Klaus wishes----'
"'Ah, aunt, but he will be content _au fond_. I know him!' said the
girl, with a smile.
"Just then Brockelmann announced Baron Stuermer. Like a flash of fire a
sudden blush mounted to Anna Maria's face, the fingers which held the
needle trembled, and her voice was unsteady.
"'Excuse me to the baron. I am prevented, unfortunately; aunt is ill.'
"Anna Maria had hitherto seen him only in the presence of others; she
feared being alone with him; was that indifference?
"'Ask the baron to come up here,' said I with sudden resolution. 'I am
certainly old enough to receive him in bed,' I added to Anna Maria.
"'Come, _mon cher_ Edwin, if you are not afraid to see a sick old woman
in bed,' I called to him, as he was now entering, and pointed to a chair
by the head of my bed, opposite Anna Maria. Edwin Stuermer was the most
versatile man I ever saw, and at once master of a situation. And so he
was soon sitting by me, chatting pleasantly. The twilight deepened, and
Anna Maria let her hands rest. She listened to us as we spoke of old
times; I saw how her eyes were fixed on his face, how now and then a
slight flush spread over it. She spoke little, and all at once rose and
left the room.
"'Anna Maria is quiet, and looks badly,' I remarked; 'the work is too
much for her.'
"He did not answer at once; then he said: 'She was always so still and
cold, Aunt Rosamond.'
"'No, no, Stuermer, she is in trouble, she is worried about Klaus.'
"'Of all things in the world, that is a needless anxiety,' he returned,
laughing. And evidently trying to get away from the subject, he asked:
'But where is Fraeulein Mattoni?'
"'Nearer to you than you think, Edwin.'
"'With the old witch, her duenna?' he asked, with that indifference
which involuntarily suggests the opposite quality.
"'Yes; the old woman is ill and Susanna is taking care of her. _Eh
bien_, you will come, of course, to our harvest festival? Anna Maria
intends to celebrate it very quietly, quite _entre nous_; but you must
come, Edwin.'
"'What?' he asked, absently.
"'For pity's sake, tell me where your thoughts are hiding?' I scolded,
irritably.
"He laughed, and kissed my hand. 'Pardon, Fraeulein Rosamond, I was still
thinking about Klaus.'
"'And the result, Edwin?'
"'Is that I have come to none; he is really incomprehensible to me.'
"'Why?'
"'Do allow me _not_ to say it,' he replied; 'but I _envy_ him.'
"'May I not also know what?'
"'Yes,' he said, rising, 'his cool temperament. How much needless
agitation, how many sleepless nights one to whom such calmness has been
given is spared!'
"'But Klaus is not cold; I do not know what you mean,' said I,
reproachfully; 'as little cold as Anna Maria, and--as you.'
"He sat down again, and without regarding my objection, continued: 'For
Heaven's sake, do tell me where they got this even temperament, this
indifference, this coolness. The father was an eccentric, energetic man,
warmly sensitive, even to passionateness--perhaps the mother was so?'
"'I assure you, Edwin,' I repeated, almost hurt, 'you know them both
very little yet when you speak thus. They are neither indifferent nor
cold-hearted; but both have, alas! inherited too much of the father's
warm feelings and eccentricity. Believe me,' I added with a sigh. I was
thinking of the scene in the Dambitz forge.
"Edwin Stuermer laughed. 'Well, well,' he said, 'I am far from
reproaching Klaus with it; it is only incomprehensible to me. I suppose
I seem odd to you?'
"'Oh, Stuermer, such a hot-head as you Klaus has never been, certainly,
and I know that you owe to your vivacity my brother's love, which
preferred you before his own son. You may be convinced that just that
passionate, changeable nature of my brother has made the children so
earnest, so deliberate.'
"'Klaus is the best, the noblest of men; he is my friend!' cried
Stuermer, with warmth. 'Do I say, then, that I reproach him? But he has
not learned to know life; he has never come from mere fidelity to duty
and deliberation, to call his a moment of inspiration which is able to
carry one quite out of himself; he has ever kept to the golden mean,
blameless; he has always done enough, but not too much. In short--in
short, such men are model men. But what life means, Aunt Rosamond, that
he does not know, and only _he_ could trust himself----'
"He broke off suddenly. 'I should like to know how I came to deliver
such a lecture to you,' he added, jokingly.
"It was almost dark in the room now. I could scarcely distinguish
Stuermer's profile. He twisted his beard rapidly and nervously.
"'You may say what you will, Stuermer, but cold my two children are not,'
I declared, and just at that moment Anna Maria entered.
"'A light will be brought directly,' she said, cheerfully, stepping over
to her chair. 'Pardon me, baron, for staying away so long; I was kept by
domestic duties, which occupy me more closely than when Klaus is at
home.'
"He made no reply; I only saw him bow. Anna Maria could have said
nothing more pedantic, I thought. Conversation would not flow, the light
did not come. Anna Maria was just on the point of ringing for it when
the bell in the church-tower began to ring in quick, broken strokes.
"'Fire!' cried Anna Maria, in alarm, hurrying to the window. Already
there was a commotion in the court-yard; Stuermer had also thrown open a
window. 'Where is the fire?' he called down.
"With beating heart I sat upright in bed. 'Where?' called Anna Maria,
'where is the fire, people?' Then the words were lost in the tumult.
"'In Dambitz,' at last came up the reply, amid all the tramping of
horses and noise of the people. '_Sacre Dieu!_' murmured Stuermer,
overturning a chair in the darkness; 'Dambitz!'
"'I will light a candle,' said Anna Maria, calmly; 'give me a moment and
I will go with you.' Below, the fire-engine was just rattling across the
court. The candles flared up under Anna Maria's hand.
"'Send me a wrap, aunt, please; I wish to go over on Susanna's account;
do not worry. I am ready, if you will take me with you in your
carriage,' she added to Stuermer; and again a red glow spread over her
face.
"'The carriage is ready, if you please, Fraeulein.' He was already
hurrying out of the room.
"'For God's sake, Anna Maria, bring back Susanna to me!' I cried. And
then I lay alone for hours. Brockelmann came up once: 'The whole sky is
red,' she informed me; 'it must be a big fire.' The little bell rang
unremittingly its monotonous alarm, and before my eyes stood the burning
houses, and I fancied Anna Maria beside Stuermer in the carriage, driving
rapidly along the lonely highway, and Susanna in danger. And my thoughts
flew to Klaus: 'Hold your hands over this girl. I will thank you for it
all my life!' 'My God, protect her!' I prayed in my anxiety.
"And hour after hour passed, the bell became silent, after long pauses,
and Anna Maria did not come. Brockelmann said the fire-light had
disappeared. I heard the carriages and people returning home; then the
court was quiet. And then Brockelmann came in again: 'It broke out in
the second house from the forge, the lads say, and the forge is
half-burned, too.' Oh, Heaven, and Anna Maria does not come!
"The old woman sat down by my bed. 'She does not think of herself,' she
complained; 'she will run into the burning house if it is possible. Ah,
if the master were only here!' Good Brockelmann, she knew better than
Stuermer how to judge Anna Maria.
"'Fraeulein,' she whispered, already following another train of thought,
'do you know--but you must not take it amiss--the baron comes so often
now, and as I saw them both drive out of the yard to-day, then--I keep
thinking she will marry him yet.'
"'Oh, how can you talk such nonsense?" said I, chiding these words in
vexation.
"'Yet, I say, the next thing will be a wedding in the house!' declared
the old woman. 'The great myrtle down-stairs is full of buds, and I also
found a bridal rose in the garden. And last New Year's eve I listened at
the door and heard the young master just saying: "Invite to the
wedding!" And that will all come true. And then--but you must not act as
if you knew it--I have had Anna Maria in my arms from the day she was
born, and know her as no one else does, and I know how she cried over
the note that the baron wrote her at the time when he went far away into
the world, and, Fraeulein, she always has it with her! Oh, I see so much
that I am not intended to see; but she cannot dissemble, Anna Maria.'
"Ah! what the old woman was saying was of no importance to me; only news
of Susanna; everything else later! 'My God, Susanna,' I murmured, 'if
anything has happened to her!' And unable to stay quietly in bed any
longer, I bade Brockelmann help me dress. At last a carriage rolled in
at the gate and stopped before the house. I sat up in bed, and kept my
eyes on the door. Susanna _must_ come! Brockelmann had hurried
down-stairs; I heard Anna Maria's voice on the stairs, and her
footsteps, and then she came in.
"'For God's sake, where is Susanna?' I cried to her.
"'With her old nurse, who has been made really ill from fright,' she
said quietly, and sank exhausted into the chair by my bed.
"'But, Anna Maria,' I wailed, 'the forge is burned down!'
"'They are at the castle,' she replied, gently. 'Stuermer has given a
shelter to all who were burned out.'
"'In the castle?' At the first moment the thought was quieting to me,
but then my heart grew heavy. 'Oh, but that is impossible! How could you
let Susanna accept the hospitality of an unmarried man? It is wrong of
you; you are usually so observant of forms. You _ought_ to have brought
her with you, and the old woman too!' I had spoken impetuously, in my
anxiety. Anna Maria gave me a strange look.
"'Isa is so ill she was in no condition to make the journey hither,' she
replied. 'But Susanna lies across her bed with torn hair and face bathed
with tears; she is nearer to her than all of us, and at such a moment,
aunt, one does not think of--etiquette.' I first noticed now how pale
and exhausted Anna Maria looked. Her fair hair had fallen down, and one
golden tress falling over the white forehead lay on her plain dark-green
dress; her eyes were cast down and her lips quivered slightly.
"'Poor child!' I cried, seizing her hands. 'It has been too much, and
here am I reproving you!'
"She let her hand remain in mine, but did not look up. 'I am quite
well,' she replied; 'but it is painful--to behold human misery and not
be able to help. It was fearful, aunt! And it has cost one human
life--nearly two.' Her voice was strangely lifeless as she said this.
'An old man,' she continued, 'in the act of saving his cow from the
burning stable, was buried beneath the falling building. Stuermer carried
out his grand-daughter, who was trying to help him, unhurt--but it was
at the very last moment--a falling beam injured his arm.'
"She had spoken in snatches, as if it were hard for her to breathe. And
now the peculiar sobbing sound came from her breast; I knew that so
well, for even as a child she had thus suppressed a burst of tears. I
grasped her hands more firmly; she was feverishly hot, and her bosom
heaved violently.
"'The splendid, warm-hearted man! Just the same to-day as he ever was!'
said I, gently. 'God be praised for having protected him!'
"Then we sat silent for a long time. The candles in front of the mirror
had burned low, and flickering they struggled for existence; and the
clock on the console ticked restlessly. I longed to beg the girl beside
me: 'Anna Maria, confide in me; it is not yet too late! See, I know now
that you love Stuermer--since to-day I am sure of it. Anna Maria, it is
not yet too late!' But how could I do it? She had never given me the
slightest right, never allowed me to share in what moved her heart. Oh,
that she would come of her own accord, then, and speak, that she might
know how much easier it is for two to bear a burden.
"I pressed her hand, beseechingly. 'Anna Maria, my dear child!' I
whispered. Then she roused herself as out of a confused dream, and
pushed the hair from her forehead.
"'Susanna?' she asked; 'Susanna got off with a fright. I led her over to
the castle myself, and Stuermer's old servant carried Isa; they are safe.
As soon as the old woman can be moved I shall have her brought here, of
course; to-day it was impossible. The excitement might be bad for
Susanna, too, for such a passionate outburst of grief I never dreamed
of. She loves the old creature more than I ever mistrusted, and her cry:
"Isa, Isa, if you die I have no one else in the world!" was repeated
till she broke down from exhaustion.'
"I listened as if stunned. 'Anna Maria,' I said, 'I must go over
to-morrow.'
"She nodded. 'If it is possible--for I should be glad to avoid it."
"'It must be possible, Anna Maria. Go and rest, we are both tired; sleep
well.'
"Wall, there I lay, and no sleep came to my eyes. Klaus and Susanna,
Anna Maria and Stuermer, revolved in wildest confusion in my brain. I
started up out of my dozing, for I thought I heard Susanna's voice:
'Isa, Isa, if you die I have no one else in the world!' And I dreamed
that I cried in anger to her: 'Ungrateful one, have you not more than a
thousand others--have you not the heart of the best and truest of men?'
And I awoke again with a cry, for I had seen Stuermer hurry into the
burning house, and seen it fall on him; and Anna Maria stood by, pale
and calm, with disordered locks of fair hair over her white forehead;
her eyes looked fixedly and gloomily on that ruin, but she could neither
weep nor speak."